“Well, the reason for that is quite obvious to me at least,” quipped Republican U.S. presidential candidate Ron Paul,76.

Oh, and why is that?

“That’s because he is Steve Martin.”

Surprisingly, Paul is not alone.

A MyGoodies/InfoSandwich poll carried out in elevators and Mr. Donuts coffee restaurants found that 99.9% of classic rock fans and their spouses support the conspiracy theory that Roth could have been replaced by Martin, in what has to be the most embarrassing attempt at a classic rock comeback since Guns N’ Roses’ 2008 crap attack, Chinese Democracy.

The supporting evidence is provocative, to say the least.

“I mean, first, you’ve got his face – that’s Steve Martin’s face he (Roth) has on right there (in the Tattoo video), ejaculated Professor Rant Foaming, 58. “And then, in the video – all that mugging for the camera – all that goofy dancing – tell me that isn’t Steve Martin,” he went on.

No one under forty knows who Steve Martin is.

No one under fifty knows who David Lee Roth is.

Few people ever really get to know themselves.

Most of you saw that coming.

Hello?

Is Van Halen any good with Steve Martin singing?

“Uh, no, they are not any good with Steve Martin singing,” chimed Jazz Man, 60. “Well, I mean, for you they might be good – you who have lowered your expectations so much that you believe in nothing.”

Woah, woah, woah. Hold on a second, honey.

“Tell me you’re prepared to give Van Halen with Steve Martin a fair chance.”

I’m not even convinced it’s Steve Martin.

“You’re- oh, I should have seen this coming. You don’t even believe the conspiracy, because you think it’s too simple. You’d rather believe in a conspiracy of a conspiracy”

I just remember Steve Martin being funnier than that.

“Didn’t you hear the jokes Roth – Martin – was telling at the show they did in New York?”

Yeah, I don’t think Steve Martin would’ve touched that with a – I don’t think he would have touched that kind of material.

“You think that was more…more like a Kramer kind of – more like some stand up Kramer would have done.”

Thankfully, no. But, come to think of it, did you ever notice Kramer looks a lot like Sammy Hagar?

Am I right?

“Hurrah,” ejaculated Fern La Barge, 31, a data entry specialist at Price Waterhouse Coopers massive ceramic Helsinki Tower. “What a great sex tape!” she went on.

Nietzsche, who died a long time ago, has gone viral with his latest sex tape, Deep Thinker. If he wasn’t dead, he’d be poised for a comeback.

“Yeh-yeh-yeh-yeh-yeh, that’s right. That’s it exactly,” agreed a large British man, who was standing beside me, shoving me aggressively.

I don’t like soccer.

“Football.”

Christ.

Nietzsche, was boring to some, but he gave a little hope to me, growing up, always shorter than everybody else. Staring at their legs (I’m referring to myself – meself? – not Nietzsche). Back then we didn’t have sex tapes, we just had sex slides. Those were a little boring.

Moving along, Nietzsche’s new sex tape has the great philosopher making it with a total of 7,709 people.

Most of them are OK-looking.

The tape is 5 years long.

If you fast forward it, you can wipe 2 years off your busy schedule.

Some spoilsports say the guy in the sweatpants isn’t Nietzsche.

“It…would be physically impossible to be Nietzsche,” smirked Helsinki Philosophy prof Rant Foaming, 54.

Oh, and why so, Joe?

“‘Why so?’ A little thing named death, would be why so, I’d gather.”

It looks a lot like Nietzsche. In the sweatpants.

“Uh huh. Right – it looks a lot like him. Yeah.”

You’re not agreeing?

“No, I’m not agreeing. I think people are getting ripped off if they buy this sex tape.”

Well, what other sex tape should they buy, then?

“I don’t think they should buy any sex tape. I think they should just stay at home.”

They are at home. That’s why they need the sex tape.

“I’m not in favor of spicing up one’s home life with – with a sex tape.”

Hmm.

“It’s inexcusable.”

Well…anyway – it’s streaming online.

” ”

Have you heard David Hume is coming out with a line of massage oils?

“Don’t. Don’t tempt me.”

What?

“Don’t – I’ll strike your face.”

Let me…just get my helmet on. There.

“Massage oils.”

Creamy coconut. Intangible…tangerine.

“Mllllllarrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhh!!!!!!!”

Oh yeah? Oh yeah? Come on!

“Blarrrrrrgghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

Big man, huh? Big man, huh?!?

“Vlarrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhh!!!

Oh, shit. Hey!

“Vooooooooooooooooossssssshhhhhh!!!!!

Arrhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

“Scnifffengarrrrrrtellllll!!!!!”

Oahhhhhhhrhhhhhrhhhhhh!!

“Vrrrrrrssstttttthhhhhh!!!

Stop it! Stop it!

“Mllllaaaraararrrrrrrr!!!!”

* Dear BT readers, the remaining intended portion of this article by Daemon Mailer about Neitzsche’s new sex tape is currently unavailable at this time. Please check back and see if it is later when the fight has ended – The Brutal Times

For lefties, the right hand is “the Stranger”.

Yes, for years folks over forty thought Billy Joel was “The Stranger.”

And maybe he was, in a way, in whatever way that might mean.

As you know, according to classic rock legend, it was Toto, who coined Joel’s nickname ‘The Stranger’ after they exchanged backstage caresses of steel one night in Bangkok.

But they were also wrong (the folks over forty).

Dead wrong.

Thus, verily, for most of this millenium of taxpayer-funded research, crammed crusty cardboard boxes were carted out of cavernous cubes of prestigious Caribbean think tank MyGoodies-cardboard boxes crammed to the brim with shock-rocking research, proving lefties get their party started with their right hands.

Let me try that again.

“I just get tired of the left hand 99% of the time,” ejaculated Occupy Wall Street anarchist Giles Richardson, 40, a lefty. “Using ‘The Stranger’ just jazzes it up,” he went on.

Let me be clear – you’re talking about… when you think about me, you touch yourself?

“When I think about me.”

Right. Sure. But is this too much for folks to know? Will they melt down under the infoload?

Folks can never know enough, says Internet pioneer Daemon Mailer, when contacted by The Brutal Times at home in his log cabin.

Full disclosure: Daemon Mailer is an unpaid employee at The Brutal Times.

Fuller disclosure: We didn’t feel like interviewing anybody else for this interview, cos, like, it was raining outside.

Too much disclosure: it wasn’t raining outside.

“Folks – shoppers – can never know enough,” Mr Mailer quipped, drawing lazily on his pipe, while fondling his Davy Crockett hat.

Zat gonna help ‘em make more informed choices and so on?

“Er, no.”

Yeah, but shoppers still have the right to click off any time they want.

“C’mon.”

OK, but “The Stranger” is trending right now?

“It’s trending right up the proverbial trending wazoo. Justin Beiber’s using ‘The Stranger’, Hugo Chavez, The Queen Mum…”

The Queen Mum’s a lefty?

“She’s left-handed, yes. She plays a left-handed Fender, just like Kurt Cobain.”

Let me get this straight.

“By all means.”

When you say “lefties,” you mean people who-

“Yeh-yeh-yeh-yeh-yeh. That’s it exactly.”

But…Billy Joel’s not left-handed.

“He’s not?”

No.

“My bad.”

Are you left-handed?

“I’m both-handed.”

So, then-

“So, then, yes, I know, ‘Is it a little boring for me, or is it, y’know, too much mystery?, quote unquote’. I’ve heard all the jokes, thank you.”

All of them?

“All the jokes, yes.”

Then how old are you? You must have lived a long time to hear all the-

“I see where you’re going, but I’m gifted and pick up quick, y’know?”

Oh, sure. Well. Anything else to tack on?

“I dunno…you explain to readers why they call it ‘The Stranger’, n’ all?”

Uh…I’d have to scroll up and check.

“Right. And no one scrolls down this far, so if you’ve missed it, then it probably doesn’t matter at this point.”

Well…some Russian spambot might scroll down this far.

“Well, kudos to you, kid, for caring what the Russian spambot reads – go on.”

Well, I, we – DJ Salinger and I, who also contributed to this article, but really only at the start now – with that classic rock reference-”

“About the Billy Joel.”

Yes – about the Billy Joel – and the Toto – we would just say that, y’know, we’re all adults here, online, and uh, it’s when, uh, one man, uh, loves hisself very much and, uh, he goes about uh, y’know, demonstrating that love, uh, with uh, another hand…then he’s normally used to.”

“You’ve lost me.”

You got the Billy Joel part?

“Yes, I got the Billy Joel part.”

He’s ‘The Stranger’.

“He’s ‘The Stranger’.”

Yes. Always was. Always will be.

“I see. That’s highly amusing. And you think your readers-”

We cannot say what we think. This isn’t Facebook.

“And they’ll never scroll down this far.”

Never. In a million, billion million years.

Am I right?!?

Let me try that again.

It’s the morning people who are the 1% of the population, and the night people – the swingers and the groovers – who are the 99%.

You see where I’m goin’, don’t you?

“Yeh-yeh-yeh-yeh-yeh, that’s it exactly. So, when, you’re bein’ all apologetic – because you think you’re living your life in error – that because of your decision to sleep in ’til 7am – to not rise early and seize the worm of commerce and competition with one’s fellow man – in fact, Jack, you are living in harmony with your fellow man – men – 99% who are still asleep, and many, many of whom will continue sleeping far past the time when you wake up,” ejaculated sleepologist Ray Goolens, Sunday.

So, most people aren’t morning people.

“You catch on quick, Rick.”

And so it’s the least people – the minority – which is, are morning people.

“I think we’ve already said as much.”

And so the majority – the 99% – are good and are doing things that are right and good and just, simply because they are part of the group that is doing the thing the most.

“Would you mind if I go and get a sandwich?”

Hold on, Ron – so, it’s the 1% that are bad, and – correct me if I’m wrong here – should be corrected by the majority – for their own good, so to speak.

“You’re thinking of writing something on a placard, now – I can see that.”

What?

“You’re – nothing – look, how about that sandwich?”

I don’t like morning people.

“Oh, Jesus.”

I’ve never said that to anyone before.

“Oh, God.”

I feel…wickedly liberated.

“Mmm. Goody.”

The table’s are turned now, aren’t they?

“Look, ah, I want…cripes – I’m sure it’s here that some of your readers are going to want me to step up and correct you, mate, but since I haven’t got a good sandwich in me yet, I just really can’t be asked.”

Wot?

“I can’t be – I’m not going to do it.”

Here, I’d been thinking I was wrong – for so long, Jong. But now I see that I was right. And it’s good to know that I’m not alone, either. I can’t thank you enough.

“Fantastic. Glad to be of help. Great intellectual exchange we’ve had here.”

What time did you get up this morning?

“What?”

What time did you wake up?

“Well…er…there’s a difference, ah, you know…”

Yes/no question – what time?

“It is not – I don’t really see how that’s of any…”

Very sneaky. Very sneaky, indeed.

“Look, if you had allowed me to finish-”

If I had allowed you to finish, we never would have arrived at this truth, here. Yes, precisely. I think anyone could see why you’d want that to have happened. Thankfully – it hasn’t.

“What?”

You – are a morning person.

“I am not.”

It’s written all over your face.

“Ridiculous.”

Your freshly-ironed shirt…your blowdried hair…everything about you says, “I’ve been up since 6am.”

“Preposterous – I was out dancing ’til 6am, yes, all right, there you have it – but I assure you, I am not one of them. I’m not here to judge you or to look down on you. After this interview I’m going home to open a beer and crash on the couch.”

I’d like to believe you. I’d like to believe you very much.

“Look at this hair, here – see? This isn’t my hair. This is the hair of some Sheila who was leaning all over me last night at the club.”

What?

“It’s the hair of some – woman – from, from dancing…staying up all night – not waking up early – there’s a difference.”

I’m not sure I follow you, but there certainly is a difference – we can definitely agree on that.

“Look…what is it that you want?”

I..

“Oh!”

What?

“Oh! You don’t know what you want! Of course – how could I have forgotten?”

What?

“Now you’ve – my God, I’m hungry – now you’ve come to the point, surprise, surprise, where you think you’ve found a new idea, in that you’ve found some kind of scapegoat for all you worries – that you can’t find a job, that your girlfriend won’t fuck you, that you’re having trouble even saving up for that miso ramen you want to eat for dinner – when all of a sudden, when someone actually looks at you and says, alright, fine, let’s look at it your way, now what are we gonna do, you have no plan or thoughts on the matter whatsoever.”

I just…

“Oh, `I just…I just..`- `I just` what?”

I just want to…sleep a little longer.

“Right. Classic. The old “I just want to sleep a little longer – I don’t want to hurt anybody” defense.
You think all your talk of the 99% and 1% hasn’t hurt anybody? Do you think anyone gets what they want? Rhetorical question – obviously, you do.”

Just to sleep…’til 7am.

“Not going to cut it, mate. Up at 5, 6 – all right, I’m with you. I want to see you up there, on the train, on the bus, your face pressed to the steamy glass just like all of your fellow man. I don’t care if you’ve had time for a breakfast or not. I tell you, when I hear a tummy rumble, that’s the first sign of a hard worker, if you ask me.”

I -

“Make Sense?”

“Clearly, that guy – doesn’t get that to tease us like that, only giving us part of his perspective makes him the laughingstock of the Internet,” Tweeted tween Jann Hatocasket,12.

Hatocasket posted pictures of herself composing the Tweet on her Facebook wall and texted friends, family and media about the experience for hours afterwords.

“To post something on Facebook and then not accompany that with a Tweet or two, gives your friends and followers blue balls,” U.S. Presidential candidate Mitt Romney tweeted and posted and texted and etced.

Billions agreed everywhere, calling for Cahootenghastob to be crucified.

“I want justice. If I can’t get justice, I want revenge, and if I can’t get that then I just want some entertainment,” ejaculated Sarah Robinison, 26, a part-time office worker at Haldeman’s Karaoke. “I’d like to see him (Cahootenghastob) get death by electric eel,” she went on.

In San Francisco, only 50% of offenders are given death by electric eel.

They let the others back into the community.

But that’s kind of a secret, so don’t tell anyone.

“We as a society decide the seriousness of crimes and their punishments by like, trends and so on,” chimed Judge Roy Mental, 78, when contacted by The Brutal Times. “So, your boy there – whatsisname – Castengoob? They’re gonna grill him over the coals. Now is definitely not the time to be making offense over social networking tools – what with Steve Jobs gone and all.”

Make sense?

“There’s this place, on the body – I had to look it up in an encyclopedia,” ejaculated Mintner Rowe, 56, a man dressed in an inexpensive dark brown suit. “That’s where Gingrich applied the cocoa body oil,” he went on.

Gingrich’s campaign spokesperson Baron Shack, 23, confirmed Newt will be randomly poking, caressing, stroking and goosing conservatives whenever he gets the chance.

“If you’re not up for it, I’d suggest standing a few steps back from the candidate,” Shack advised. “If you’re sitting next to him on a bus or a plane, you could move one seat over,” he went on.

What if I’m stuck next to him on a crowded elevator?

“You could crouch down.”

Is Mr. Gingrich also planning to reach out to liberals?

“No, he doesn’t like the cut of their jib.”

How ’bout those guys who dress like they’re in Gap ads?

Unnamed sources within the Gingrich camp say the issue has divided advisors, with some insisting anyone who dresses smartly and spends a lot on their jeans is a de facto conservative, and others, perhaps predictably, saying, no-no-no-no, but wait, hold on a minute here, bro’, my nephew Chas wears those Julian Assange jeans and he’s down their at that Occupy Wall Street thingy, and therefore, we’ll just never, ever know who’s on our side or not.

“Yes, there is this division within Gingrich’s campaign – over how to even deal with the whole idea of what is a conservative, really,” ejaculated Lauren Jauet, 46, who is writing a book about conservatives, `What Is the Whole Idea of What is a Conservative, Really?`.

OK, so whut kinda ideas people be talkin’ ’bout?

“Well, for example, they been talkin’ ’bout that, y’know, even this whole debate over trying to define something, y’know, is this in and of itself, just wasting more time?”

Huh.

“Yeah, and like, why not just send Newt out there touching – sorry – reaching out – to everyone first, and then later go back and count up the number of conservatives he actually touched – reached out to.”

What?

“They’re saying it’s hard to figure out who’s conservative and who’s not.”

Maybe they should just have Newt touch everybody first and figure that out later.

“Yeah…”

Isn’t Newt too old to be President?

“Well…”

He looks so old…

“Well, there are lots of people older than him…”

Like who? Santa?

“The Queen is older – and she still does a pretty good job.”

That’s right. And the Queen Mum is older, too.

“Right – and look at her go.”

Huh. Where can I vote for Newt Gingrich?

“Oh – ho, ho, ho. I don’t think you can. I mean, the election’s not even on yet. Plus, you live in Japan.”

That’s too bad. I just wanted this story to have a happy ending.

“I guess you can’t just tack one on.”

Why are you laughing?

But why, guy?

“Gaffes- give us more gaffes,” grinned sheepish Joe Thamblehorn, Thursday. “I love football, but I love seeing and hearing ESPN gaffes even more!” he ejaculated.

What kinda gaffes we talkin’ ’bout?

“Well, like the other day, me and my buddy Carl were down the pub watching the game? And like then on the TV they go and cut to like an aerial shot of like France instead of like a aerial shot of like Jacksonville, Florida, which is like where said game was taking place?”

And…this kinda gaffe made you all hot and bothered?

“It ruffled my feathers.”

And that’s a good thing?

“It involved me not only as a viewer, but as a person – in that it reactivated my critical thinking abilities.”

Unexpected! Whut other kinda gaffes you be liking?

“Oh, I dunno. I’ma be liking how about when one guy falls down or one o the commentaters says something racist?”

That’s pretty general, but I guess it’s what we’re left with.

“Sure-sure. Take what you can get, right?”

Well…no use staring into the horses’s mouth.

Am I right?

“Oh, dude, if you’re thinking for one minute of giving up your plush corner office and striking out as a nameless drifter…um, don’t,” chimed a nameless drifter, who refused to be named in this article, or, basically anywhere?

He/she/it is not alone.

“When I refused to sign the Hilton hotel register, they wouldn’t accept me as a guest,” another unnamed source said Sunday. “Basically, we live in a totalitarian state.”

Quite so, bro’. Quite so.

Is there stuff we can do about it?

“Nameless drifters have always and will always face discrimination,” said pert Canadian model, Undo, 58. “In the Sixties, I partied with tons of ND’s and it was sooo cool,” she went on.

Aren’t you a little too young for the Sixties?

“I’m 58.”

Exactly, so you would’ve been like..

“15, yes. I drank illegally, and shot narcotics in my veins.”

I think if you do the math, it’s not actually 15.”

“No, it’s 15.”

Yeah, I dunno. But anyway, that’s too young to have been doing any of that stuff.

“Oh, darling…”

What? Why are you laughing?

“When did you have your first drink of alcohol?

Me? Uh…well, I don’t see how it’s really relevant…

“So. You were never in with the in-crowd.”

Listen…

“And you tell yourself you weren’t missing out.”

Hey…

“You amuse me very much.”

Yeah.

“The Internet is populated with people like you – too boring to ever go out.”

OK, OK, point taken, let’s get back to nameless drifters.

“If you like them so much, why don’t you marry them?”

Maybe because…I don’t want to spend the rest of my life sitting round the breakfast table literally guessing the name of the person sitting across from me.

“But we can never know the interior lives of a stranger.”

Christ.

“I will introduce you to ten nameless drifters at a soiree tonight at 7. Take my dare – marry one of them, it doesn’t matter who, obviously.”

Obviously.

“Well…will you do it?”

Oh, all right.

Why are you laughing?

“I think one billion is a bit rich,” chimed child chimney sweep, Mick Benjamin, 11. “I guess some people think we got all the time in the world,” he went on.

Point taken.

For those who like their killer baby names on the go, look below fo’ mo’, Joe:

Top Ten Killer Baby names:

10. Henry
9. Chucky
8. Ted
7. Nancy
6. Adolf
5. Laverne
4. Michael
3. Jason
2. Damien
1. Killer

What’s in a name? Only the key to the tower of power to compete and get that dream home treat. Choose wisely and you too could be snuggling into slippers the size of Flipper’s flippers 20 years from now when young Killer takes the reins at the nation’s top tier investment bank.

Then who’ll it’ll be time to thank?

Santa?

Ha!

BJ at BT!

Prove me wrong.