Andy Rooney’s commentaries routinely raise a ton of eyebrows… but they’re usually only the ones on Andy himself.

My pal over at WorldNetDaily, Hollywood writer Burt Prelutsky, spends a few minutes bashing Andy Rooney. I always read Burt’s column. Anybody who wrote some episodes of M*A*S*H has my respect as a humor writer… especially one who still somehow managed to end up as a conservative.

Andy Rooney’s always fascinated me, especially when I was a kid in the 70′s. I remember watching his short segment each week, amazed that he was making so much more money doing that than I was raking leaves. Nowadays, I’m still fascinated that Rooney makes more money doing that than I do raking leaves.

Someday, and I mean soon, I fully expect Rooney to completely lose it. You can only talk about velcro and mailbox flags for so long before going on a freak-out. I’m predicting that Rooney’s final “A few minutes with…” segment will be something along these lines:
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“People seem to like to masturbate a lot. I do. I’m doing it right now. Why is that? Well, in this case, it’s because the woman operating the boom mic, Chloe, has a killer rack. I’d really like to touch them, but I probably won’t.”

“I’m an Atheist because I always hear that God made man in his own image. What a load of s*#t. Don’t get mad at me, just put yourself in my shoes. If you were looking in my bathroom mirror, would you really f$*#@#*g believe that God looks like this?”

“If God did make me in his own image, I feel bad for him, because his ass must itch an awful lot.”

“I schtupped Ed Bradley’s wife last night. Don’t tell anybody.”

“You know that stopwatch they always show between segments? The one that’s always going ‘tick tick tick tick’? I hear that in my head constantly–and I mean all the time. I killed a hitchhiker once because of that sound. It still didn’t make it go away. Tick tick tick tick…”

“Don’t you ever wish you could mate with another species of animal and have offspring? I bet some of the babies would be really interesting looking. I’d like to do it with a gazelle, but they can run about 70 miles per hour. Talk about playing hard to get. The last time I was on the Serengeti, I had trouble catching one on foot, so I got in my car and chased it down. It was scared at first. They sure do kick a lot. Why is that?”

“I’m going to start using more street lingo. Why? Because I’ve always wanted to bust caps on da man, and wonder aloud where all my ho’s are at. As a matter of fact, I’m changing the title of my segment to ‘A Few Minizels Wit Andy Razooney’… take that, CBS bee-otches!”

“Right now I’m sporting a trouser tent that an entire pack of Boy Scouts could camp under, including their fruity troop leader.”

“Does your old lady ever just lay there motionless while you’re putting the lumber to her? Does she keep her hands over her ears, yelling ‘la la la la…find you’re happy place’? Does she call out Mike Wallace’s name in the heat of passion? Mine does. Why is that?”
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Don’t laugh… it’s coming, and soon.

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