Rock
McDonald here. But I’m not here today to bring you the Story
Behind The Story. I am here today to honor a man. A man who I consider
close to my heart. A man who helped forge my career. A man named DEEB.
So in tribute to
Deeb, I, Rock McDonald, give you Deeb's Top Ten Greatest Messageboard
Posts of all time. Here we go:
10.
"Scenes from "Attack of the Clones" looked like dailies
from T.V. acting. Bad... sooo bad. How fricking terrible is Natalie
Portman? I've seen more emotion from a rock. New kid certainly knows
how to whine, "I don't think Obi Won is whehhh whehhhh...”
Fett looked
sweet, but then so was Maul.
Deeb"
9.
"BIRTH CONTROL!
For the
love of Deeb! Use it! All of you! Even you married folk who may want
to start a brood... DON'T!
BIRTH CONTROL!
You may as well check into a Turkish prison, where the Warden in 21
inches tall, and haunts you every second of every minute of every hour
with his Crying & Screaming & Doody! BIRTH CONTROL!
My God, in "Three Men and A Baby", the song was "Goodnight
SweetHeart".... HA! B.S.! The theme for any baby is the "Imperial
March" from Star Wars... they take over.... BIRTH CONTROL!
SCream and Cry and ya don't know why... stop thinking about "Why?"...
it's a newborn baby... Thats...Just...What... They... DO! Semen is evil
stuff... don't even kid about it gett'in near a girls privvies... Are
you FUCKING CRAZY?
10:30-Gave
baby back!
DEEB
Deeb Loves you all! "
8.
"A monkey for you
Your swollen sausage fingers
Don't squeeze him too tight
Running, jogging, through the woods,
Picking up Badgers and fondling their goods,
They're strong little creatures but not tough enough,
Cuzz I touch their scroties, when I'm in the buff.
GOOMA
(Get Out Of My Ass)"
7.
"Damn you! DAAAAAAAMMMMMMMM YOOOOUUUUUUU! Bruce Jenner would have
your Genitalia for such rampant funning with Deeb's Dislexia... though
it is fictional... and basically the same miner mistakes that everyone
tends to make...it is that whole breats thing. Is there such a thing
as "Breats"? Could one be gently held and suckle from one?
Or even perhaps try to push two breats together and make one breat?
Ahh, the wonders of an imagination, and Caffiene."
6.
"Dear sir,
Deeb was amused.
Then... you helped Deeb, as Deeb once again found his rage. Deeb would
love to strike you with a mallet then drive a rusty nail through your
tiny testies. Deeb would chortle with feminine glee as he sucked out
your eyes and proceeded to piss in the sockets, Deeb will rent a car...
run you over... then cut your guts out and tie them to the bumper and
drive on until you unravel like a fucking bloody, fecal and bile covered
Y0-YO of what was once a poor example of life... MOTHERFUCKERMOTHERFUCKERMOTHERFUCKER
MOTHERFUCKERMOTHERFUCKERMOTHERFUCKERMOTHERFUCKER...
I WAS BABYSITTING AND COULDN'T GO OUT YOU DIRTY FUCKER OF PILES OF SHIT
ASSWIPE-LICKING DOUCHE BAG DIE DIE DIE DIE.....
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
------AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH"
5.
"Jedi - follow the true master. Deeb. Deeb is true to the force.
Supplements
Alllll for Deeeeb. Alllllll for Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeb. Deeb requires
these supplements in order to maintain the shorn ape-like form you see
before you. The Deeb requires a perfect combination of complex proteins,
mega vitamins, lyophilized long chain amino –acids, and stucco.
Deeb simply requires enough Weider products to choke a small brontosaurus…
that’s all. Stay back… its Deeb’s!"
4.
"Odd, I don't remember wearing this pair of pants when I slipped
into a deep coma 5 years ago? Who is Deeb, and why is my drawer filled
with big funny colored pills...
Pete"
3.
"Mujahadeeb has landed
Your security
is weak.
Deeb has
dropped the daisy cutter."
2.
"The Deeb is now riding the snake... and the Deeb will fucking
spell Belligerant any fucking way the Deeb so motherfucking chooses!
(levels, get it?... being belige..baliger...ya get it) The Deeb will
take the spelling od assorted things and they are always right. As soon
as this humming in the Deebs head goes away and the red glare on everything
subsides the deeb... the Deeb... I AM THE DEVIL! I AM THE DEVIL! Why
am I sweating?…These aren't my legs! Send me your children!
(Slips
into monotone): Preacher curls should be performed with one arm with
a dumbbell, as well as with two arms with a barbell or cambered bar.
A dumbbell allows you to supinate or hammer the movement, so you can
target specific areas of your biceps. A bar fixes your hands in a position
that keeps all of the stress in the belly of the biceps, so you cannot
rotate away from the burn as it develops.
Jedi Deeb
Welcome to "Canned Goods & Sausage Fingers"
I am truly at a
loss. What will I do without Deeb? What will I be without Deeb?
Who will share my fanatic following of wrestling? Who, aside from Deeb,
can truly appreciate the true importance of HHH to the WWF? (or the
fact that he is so ripped that he looks like a "condom stuffed
with walnuts", as Klove said.) No longer will there be any Mary
Maguire's with the obligatory cheers of "'da Bears", and nor
will there be any more youth to witness the danger that comes with feeding
Petey both Chinese food & Dew. Moa Deeb was always ready
to go to the Cronin on a moments notice to hoist a few pints, should
the call be sent out. Never again will I hear his sweet voice read from
his book of poems. (GOOMA!) His sexual prowess made Queens Ladies swoon
at the Irish Rover. No more will I paint the guise of Garth Maul / Darth
Brooks on his face. His competitive drive and skill will be missed on
the Volleyball, Football, Death Pool, and Wiffleball fields. But...
It is on ITHACAMAFIA.COM
that we will miss him MOST.
For on the messageboard,
Deeb did truly shine. He instantly made it his home, whether asked to
or not, and I dare say that we are all better for it. For Deeb was blessed
with a job where he had access to the internet for 8 consecutive hours
a day, 5 days a week, and only 14-28 minutes of work to do each day.
The rest of that time? It was all spent on the board. And it was time
well spent. No other person has had such an immediate impact on the
other posters of the board. From complete strangers going: "who
the hell is this Deeb guy?!?", to others screaming and peeing their
pants, to yet others screaming and cursing at the computer screen...
...Deeb did it
his way.
He got us to participate.
He made the board what it is. And while it sparked laughter, rants,
board fights, and yes--even a war--I for one, am better for it.
He made the messageboard safe for everyone else--by knowing that no
matter what you posted, there would always be something more shocking
that Deeb had done before you. And he probably wrote it in the third
person.
I already miss my
Petey. I miss our 'Schpeen Squeals' as we mocked a hot tub falling on
him. I miss him doing the face with the hands on each side of his head
that used to scare the shit out of O'Neill & I. I miss watching
the entrance of his wrestler in Smackdown! 2: Know Your Role as it somersaulted
down the entrance ramp. I miss the doodie smell in his car as we careen
down the BQE towards Prospect park.
Earlier this month,
when a number of us were drinking at a bar down in the village, I knew
it was Petey's time to move on. For as we sat there drinking at 3:15am,
in walked a 'little person'--who passed right by our table as they crossed
the bar to grab a seat. And as the wee one scooted up into a booth,
every one of us turned to look at Deeb. He just sat there staring into
his beer with the biggest smile on his face, shaking as he contained
his glee.
There was nothing
left for him to do here.
Godspeed, sweet
Deeb. May the lights of the Titantron guide your way, and may the Lord
bless you with an abundance of Internet Access in Chicago. Our home
will always be a place where you can rest your weary (& stylish)
cowboy boots. We love ya.
Webster's Dictionary
defines Deeb as….. well, it doesn't. There's no listing of "Deeb"
in Webster's or any other dictionary I looked through. So I began to
question his existence. Had I made it up? The midgets and sausage fingers
and baboon-squirting? If this was all a manifestation of my subconscious,
what kind of person am I? Baboon-squirting midgets? What the hell
is wrong with me!
Quickly I called
up my shrink, who informed me that Deeb is not made-up. Having grounded
myself, I returned to the website, where Deeb has and does exist. He
is very real. And his antics are a welcome addition to the messageboards.
Clearly he's influenced me in my recent film-focused fop rants. He's
the Pulp Fiction of the Mafia Message Board: whether we know it or not,
there's a little bit of Deeb in every post we make nowadays. Like Nirvana
redefined alternative music, so did Deeb redefine what it means to "post
on the board." It is no longer just to convey some information
to the masses: it can be more, or so very, very, very little.
Deeb, Chi-Town
will never be the same after your arrival. And New York can only hope
to achieve a sense of Post-Deeb "normalcy." A moment for Deeb….
* Gimp stands at
podium *
* A single tear runs down face *
How does one begin
to sum up so many years being neighbors with Deeb? Let's just say that
life in this quiet little borough will never be the same. Where will
the community turn now when they need a man to fight for our God given
right to proper deli meats? Where will the midgets of the world turn
when they need a leader? Where are those damn bastards that took Deeb's
l'il scoot-about (meaning his frightening mobile with the cowboy boot
and football in the back)?! And where will the Ithaca Mafia go when
they want to see Wrestlemania??? I tell ya where! CHI TOWN baby.
Deeb, I can only
hope that you bring as much light and sausage fingers to the people
of Illinois as you have to those of us in the Astoria commune. But know
that I will think of you always… As I stand in the checkout line
at Pathmark and marvel at the stupidity of the employees, as you have
taught me that 95% of the dumbest people in the world live here. Every
time I hear a baby cry at an 11PM showing of a gory movie at the UA
cinemas, I will call for you. And every time I listen to a breeze push
Queens trash across the street, I will hear your name on the wind…..
Deeeeeeeb…. Deeeeeeeeeb…. Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeebbbbb
*cough * cough *
Don't worry, sire.
The Astoria chapter of Midgets for a Better World will be in capable
hands. For we will all be watching over them as if they were borne of
your body and weaned off of your very supple teat.
No one can express
my feelings for Peter's passing than his own favorite lyricist:
Living
easy, lovin' free
Season ticket on a one-way ride
Asking nothing, leave him be
Taking everything in his stride
Don't need reason, don't need rhyme
Ain't nothing he would rather do
Going down, party time
His friends are gonna miss him too
He's on the highway to hell....
No
stop signs, speed limit
Nobody's gonna slow him down
Like a wheel, gonna spin it
Nobody's gonna mess him 'round
Hey Satan, payed his dues
Playing in a rocking band
Hey Momma, look at him
He's on his way to the promised land...
He's on the highway to hell (Don't stop him!)
I only hope that
Peter, like Bon Scott before him, has left his Mount Lofty Rangers behind....to
join his AC/DC.
May the preachings
of Mujahadeeb be as accepted there as they were here and
may there be midgets a plentiful to satisfy the cravings. And when you
come
home to visit, please bring the little woman as I'm sure we'd all like
to
meet her and when I say little woman, I don't me a wee person. Take
care.
What
Be Happenin', Ma Bruddah?
(March, 2002)
So you
got things that are hippity happening soon? Then slide yo' ass on over
to the Events
section, where you can post them and tell everyone else about them!
Then, we might just show up and give you some lovin'! I know
that Frants is havin' his Annual Oscar Jaunt at the end of the month,
and look for the return of Jedirish to our system, as well! Other
than that, don't go looking for any Mrs. Grundy gigs--for while their
logo design be sweet, the direction that the 'management' has
taken is definitelySOUR. (Ask Ducky for the low-down.)
