What My Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech Might Sound Like

    Friends, physics nerds, medicine geeks, chemistry dorks and hangers on, I’d like to begin by saying (sarcastically) “Thanks a lot.” (make jacking-off motion with hand.)
    I make my money by telling stories, stories of ducks, and deli aisles, and guys with funny names like Dick Harden. (Pause for long applause.) Today, I’ll tell a different story, a story about a young man who was regularly referred to  by his college advisor as “a stupid dumbass”; a man whose middle school girlfriend left him for Ron Pilson; a man who spent eight months of his adult life trying to dig to China before city workers came and told me to stop, but not after I broke through every one of their precious pipelines and cable wires.
    Well, I’d just like to say to all of you, to my college advisor, to Ron Pilson, to Julie, my middle school girlfriend and you city workers: suck it. (Raise arms in triumph. Wait for applause to subside.) I always knew that I was better than all of you--and actually, I routinely told you that I was better than you--but today, I have a trophy to prove it. (Hold up trophy. Flex muscles.)
    “Oh,” they said, “You could never win a prize with a book about a girl named Julie and a guy named Ron Pilson being pelted by rocks for 400 pages.” “You can’t win a prize with a book titled, ‘Love In the Time of Rock Peltings,’ with the subtitle of, ‘Suck It Ron and Julie,’ but alas, here I am today, triumphant, pleasant-smelling and smarter than the dickens. (Flex. Grab crotch defiantly.)
    I’d like to say that the other nominees were just as deserving of this prize, but I can’t. Because I haven’t read any of their work and probably never will. I much prefer television and low-rent pornography. Anyway, I guess if they were just as deserving they’d be standing up here. Ha! (Pause for applause, laughter.)
    A lot of you may be wondering what’s next for this old genius. Well, I can tell you right now that it’s not writing another book. That was hard. No, I’ll probably use Mr. Nobel’s money to purchase a fleet of jet skis, a house boat and enough Old Crow to get an army of bull moose schnockered.
    I’ll finish by saying thank you, and you’re welcome, and if any pretty Swedish women want a mustache ride from a brilliant genius, I’m in room 318.
    Laters nerds.
    Crisp out.
    (Throw microphone on ground, walk off with arms raised in triumph.)