The Statement Of Randolph Dobson

A necromantic comedy

the following is not suggested for christians or other close-minded folks. contains humor that refers to the mentally challenged in an unfavorable way. although this is not meant to be serious and doesn't reflect the actual opinions of anyone, it may offend those that may be sensitive to that subject matter. consider yourself warned. continuing is done at your own risk. this is a work in progress (theoretically). it is based loosely on the book of mormon (a semi-new testament of christ)... just kidding.

The following dialogue begins at about 3 minutes into the mp3. The first 3 minutes are an explanation. Please listen to that portion before reading on. this is a basic script that goes along with the audio. while the audio differs from this page, it is essentially the same.

"Hi, bob, how are things? this is my Mongoloid son Randolph Dobson. he's a pathetic lump of shit with the mentality of a 3 year old... but, but but, i know what you're thinking...doctors say there's hope. while he is worthless in every capacity while alive, the doctors say that his liver is in great shape.... so..... i've been drinking a lot lately"

"what a horrible thing to say" says bob

"no don't worry about it, IT can barely understand simple english.... and won't be deciphering this shit any time soon.. i mean, just look at IT."

"for god sakes he's your son, jim" says bob

"not for long..."

"how can you possibly talk that way about him?" asks bob

"well, i won't have to much longer.. he's got one lumpy Mongoloid foot in the grave as it is.. i'm just trying to encourage the process. . encourage his passing into 'a better place'. the sorta place that accepts lumpy mudballs that bring terror and destruction upon all that is good and wholesome, like this walking disaster of biblical proportions that is Randolph."

"It can't be that bad." insists bob

"oh, its hell. take it from me, bob. i'm the bastard's father." says jim

"shame on you."

"yeah.. i shoulda pulled out when i had the chance. there was always a glimmer in deloris' eye that made me think she would birth many children that weren't right in the head. i've stayed outta her as much as possible since this wasted piece of carbon entered our lives. i don't want a whole litter of these worthless creatures scurrying about my legs while i'm eating... begging for scraps... pretending to be human. i don't think i could even finish my meal without throwing up. i didn't want a pet, bob, i wanted a son. if i was interested in housing a drooling slobbering pile of crap, i would've at least weighed the option of getting a dog. a dog can be trained not to shit in the bathtub, bob. in fact i believe its one of those built in instinct things they have. whereas the unholy beast twitchin' at my feet has no scruples whatsoever. couldn't shake your hand if his life depended on it.. he could smear feces all over your leg, if that would tickle your fancy.. well, would it bob?"

"this conversation sickens me.."

"well, one upside is that i've found a few ways to cash in on his disability. the government has funding for stuff like this. which make sense. he's more like a science project than a human being. the government sees him as a 'special needs' case. I especially need to find a dumpster big enough for the son of a bitch. every time i dump him in the vast desert wastelands of nevada, he seems to crawl his greasy ass home just in time to piss me off."

"i didnt even know you had a son"

"well, this ain't the sort of son you advertise, y'know.. its like:

WE CORDIALLY INVITE YOU TO THE VIEWING OF A RETARDED PIECE OF SHIT THAT GOD HAS SCORNFULLY ABANDONED UPON THE DOORSTEP OF DELORIS' WOMB IN ORDER TO WREAK HAVOC ON OUR LIVES, FOR SOME MYSTERIOUS REASON HE HAS YET TO REVEAL. WE'VE GIVEN BIRTH TO THE SON OF SATAN AND WISH FOR YOU TO SEE HIM IN ALL HIS MONGOLOID GLORY. DANCING UPON THE LAST NERVE OF A FRAIL BITTER MAN." - REGRETFULLY SIGNED 'THE BASTARD'S FATHER'

"no Bob, that's not high on my priorities. its somewhere beneath my never-ending quest to find somebody, anybody, who's willing to knock off the little fucker without getting all high and mighty, forcing their morals and values upon me, as if this son of a bitch hasn't already tested the will of my soul to the very crest of its capacity. its hard to find even a homeless vietnam vet who's up for the challenge of sniping off a target that only moves when he knows it will piss me off. he's a lot like those cheap remote controlled racecars. he can only turn left. a weekend at the gun club would give you sufficient briefing to off this monster from beyond the gates of hell, and make the world a safe place for normal proper children......

..... i mean, c'mon bob... dropping him down a well would simply destroy the water supply of this great region and perhaps doom civilization as we know it to a future filled with these snotty ever-fecalating motherfuckers. if only the government could provide a safe hazard-free way of disposing of these toxic pieces of genetic waste."

"well it was good seeing you jim" says bob.

END