And now, your host for the evening … Jimmmmm Byrrrrrrrrne!

Well, well, wellllll … So, we’ve all come here today to celebrate the life and times of Paul Feuer. Some may wonder why exactly we are doing this, and that is completely understandable. It’s not like Paul has contributed anything to this world, besides single-handedly keeping the Nair and Friendship Bracelet businesses on their feet, so why would we want to honor a half-Jew like this guy?

Because we love him. And basically because I read his last article (the one that is currently up), and saw his cry for help at the end. “Waaah, waaah, no one e-mails me about my articles … somebody lovvvve me.”

Pathetic.

You want to know why nobody e-mails you about your articles? Well, in all honesty it’s because they’re all busy e-mailing Ian Valentine to tell him he’s a “bald asshole” who degrades women.

And yes, Ian Valentine is here today folks. Mr. Big Shot. Mr. Hook-Up Man. You want to hear a hook-up story? One time I had a threesome with his Mom and sister Iana. Yeah, that was pretty hot. I mean, they were nothing compared to Russell’s sweet momma Gilbert, but really, who is? That woman has skills in the bed and in the kitchen too. I should know, she baked me some chocolate chip cookies after I piledrived her all night long.

Boomshakalaka!

No, but really … We’re here to honor Paul Feuer today, and that’s what I should be doing. When I first met this kid back in freshman year of college, I knew he was a special guy. I’d never seen a unibrow like the one this kid had. This was Guinness Book of World Records type shit. In retrospect, now I realize why Paul had terrible taste in women for so long. He probably couldn’t see out of the top half of his eyes with all the fur up there. Motherfucker could only see tits … and that was all he cared about.

Yes, The Undertaker and Tits, the two things that made Paul’s world spin ‘round and ‘round. Sort of explains those pictures he drew of the Undertaker with tits … you make me SICK, Paul Feuer.

Alright, well our first guest today is one of my best friends. Hopefully he will be my Stepson soon. Come on up here Russell Gilbert!

(Russell Gilbert takes the stage)

Man, I remember the first time I ever met Paul. We were at a strip club in Canada and I got my first taste of what this kid was like. He spent all night following this fat stripper around. We started calling him HH, which stands for Hog Hunter. He seriously stayed on stage when she was dancing for 25 minutes straight and kept putting dollars in his mouth. Shit was disgusting.

After that night I knew that there was something very “special” about that kid. Turned out about two years later I was living in the basement with his ass. Believe me, the real fruity colors came out real quick.

I never had a computer when I lived at Highgate so I always used Paul’s. Well one time I went to use his computer and it was dusty as fuck, so I whipped it off. No big deal right? Wrong! Apparently his dumb ass was seeing how dusty his monitor could get. Why? Well it’s Paul.

It would seem that after something like that I would kind of expect crazy things from this kid. He still manages to surprise me though. You guys know that stupid joke of, “hey look there’s gullible written on the wall,” well Paul falls for it every time. He’s the stupidest smart kid I know.

This past summer we were all grilling up some food on a hot sunny, well all of us except Jim Byrne because he was too busy using the Foreman grill on the shitter. Anyways, as I’m working the grill Paul says, “Russ, can you just let the burgers sit there and cook or do you have to flip them?” Sounds like someone’s been using the Foreman grill too long.

I swear everything out of this kid’s mouth is guaranteed to be hysterical. A group of us were playing Trivial Pursuit one day and it was Paul’s turn. It was a geography question and by the sounds of it, it didn’t seem to be Paul’s strong subject. You have to bear with me because after he said all of this I was too busy laughing to remember how it all started.

He starts out saying, “Where’s Minnesota? It’s in Michigan right?” We obviously started laughing at him. He replies, “No it’s in Iowa. Oh wait, it’s in Ohio.” He sounded so sure about Minnesota being in Ohio it was awesome. We laughed at him harder then the time Ian Valentine pissed his pants on the bus in 8th grade.

You guys know when you go on vacation in some hot ass place it’s good to get a base tan first. Well Paul’s cheap ass doesn’t feel like spending $20 so he figured he’d stay at home and do it. Outside you might ask? Nope. I walked into our dining room one day to see the most amazing this I’ve ever seen. Paul was sprawled out on the carpet in his bathing suit. I’m like what the fuck are you doing! The window was open and yes, he was tanning inside!

Well I saved the best for last. Now I swore I wouldn’t tell anyone about this but seeing how we’re doing a roast of Paul might as well. He told me this about a month ago so it’s still fresh on my mind.

Paul came home from work one day and he had this weird look on his face. He’s like Russ if I tell you this you have to “pinky swear” not to tell anyone. Ok.

He says to me, “Have you ever dropped a big fart and some just squirts out?” I tried so hard not to laugh and responded with, “no why?” He proceeds to tell me how he farted about halfway through his work shift and some shit actually came out. He said he tried to clean his boxers off in the bathroom but he couldn’t get rid of the smell. Customers were all sniffing with the look of disgust near him. Motherfucker sharted!

I’m really glad I met Paul because now I have all of these stories to tell strangers on the drunk bus. Plus an added bonus is that Paul loves to let me beat him at everything. What a true friend this Paul Feuer guy is. Thanks Paul for everything man, I owe ya!

Jim Byrne takes back the Mic

Well, I told you tonight would be full of surprises, and here is the first one of the night Mr. Feuer. We dug through your past, and decided to invite one of your “most special friends” to come up and roast you tonight. And by “most special friend,” I meant the one that had that anus that you liked to slip your penis into.

Ladies and gentleman, please welcome Paul’s favorite pet cat out of the 17 he owns … Bingy!

Bingy the Cat takes the stage

Holy shit Pauly, I never thought it would come to this, you sick fucker. Here we are today, roasting your ass. Ha! Who would have thought this would ever be possible back in the old days when you rocked that vile red mullet and people thought you were a fucking girl!

This fucking guy!

Man, I don’t think any of you know Paul like I do. Like Jim said before, we had a “special” relationship. HA HA! You sick fucker, you!

Wow … this guy … hahahah … this fucking guy. (Breaks down and starts crying)

OH FUCK! PAUL FEUER IS TERRIBLE … A TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE MAN! When he was still in middle school, he was a horny little fucker! He would come home from school … come up to me all nice, like he was going to pet my ass … and then he would grab me and FUCKING FUCK THE SHIT OUT OF ME. LITERALLY … HE IS A SICK MAN!

OH GOD, IT WAS HORRIBLE! HE WOULD PLACE ME ON HIS COCK AND SPIN ME AROUND LIKE IT WAS FUCKING POTTERY CLASS!

DID I MENTION THIS WAS ALL ANAL SEX?!?

Now, MY ANUS DOES NOT WORK PROPERLY! I CANNOT CONTROL MY … MY … MY BOWEL MOVEMENTS! IT IS HORRIBLE! I am CONSTANTLY SHITTING ALL OVER THE HOUSE …

AND THE NIGHTMARES … oh god … THE NIGHTMA …

(Binky’s Mic is cut)

(Cut back to Jim Byrne)

Well … wasn’t that awkward!

Our next guest probably saved Paul’s life … we always tease the man about his past flames and infatuations, but he really found a winner with this next guest. And lucky for all of us friends of Paul’s, we don’t have to tiptoe around when talking about her looks.

I remember some of Paul’s old girlfriends, and it was always like … “Yeah, Paul, she’s real hot!” And then behind his back we would joke about how Stevie Wonder could pick out better looking girls. Get it? Stevie Wonder is BLIND! Some of the girls that Paul would pick out were so awful that they would make my penis shrivel up and crawl back inside my body. And I wasn’t the one tapping those asses!

Seriously, between frumpy and pasty, hairy nipples, moon-faced, and just plain fugly, you picked some real bowsers. But hey man, you were always good for jumping on the grenade. Actually, you fucking loved it. You dated, ogled and molested the grenades … God bless your soul, you truly are a saint.

And then there is Jen. Did you just wake up one day, push your eyebrow up, and realize how wrong you had been living your life? When you started dating her, it must have been like a revelation … and all of us we’re so fortunate. Finally Paul picked a winner … and she has massive boobs to top it off! Paul must really feel like he hit the jackpot, and thank god for that … ladies and gentlemen, welcome Paul’s girlfriend Jen!

(Jen takes the stage)

First off babe I am so happy to see that you wore sleeves tonight. This boy loves his basketball jerseys, which is fine, but I remember the first time he met my parents we went out to a nice dinner and Paul wore a jersey. I couldn’t tell if my mom was intently listening to Paul or staring at his hypnotic, fire-red armpit hair.

And anyone who knows Paul knows that the things that come out of his mouth sometimes are questionable. I recall one evening somebody asked where I worked. Unfortunately for me I work at Bob Evans. When the person heard I worked at Bob Evans they quickly sang the slogan, “Bob Evans down on the farm.” To which Paul quickly snapped, “No, it’s on Niagara Falls Boulevard!!” Sometimes I wonder if I am dating Paul or Corky from Life Goes On.

But seriously Paul has great taste. Paul loves all the classics like, Avril Lavigne’s “I'm with You” and JoJo’s “Get out”. And Paul’s impeccable taste does not stop at music, oh no, Paul knows a great movie when he sees one White Chicks is undoubtedly in the top five of the best movies ever made. Ok, so Paul has terrible taste in music and movies and it is pretty sad that his biggest goal in life is to be Avril’s Sk8ter boy.

Still Paul, it might be hard to be Avril’s dream guy if you never shower. I swear if Paul takes a shower two days in a row he expects me to be proud of him. You shouldn’t need a reason to shower Paul, most human beings actually like to be clean.

And then there is Saved by the Bell, who doesn’t love Saved by the Bell? But when you are being courted by a guy it can be a little disturbing to see that he not only has seen every single episode but he feels the need to talk to you in detail about every single episode. I mean I know a lot of stupid facts too but trying to impress a girl by talking to her about where Screech hid his lucky beret and what was the name of the store that Kelly worked at over Christmas break really isn’t the most “pimp” approach.

And speaking of pimp, remember Paul’s last car? He was always such a gentleman opening the door for me, oh wait, he had to because the passenger door didn’t have a handle on the outside.

He loved that car.

A Merkur Scorpio, probably one of the rarest cars around … and shittiest too. Half the time I was scared I was going to fall right through the floor of the car. And that car was great in winter. It didn’t defrost on the inside, so Paul literally would scrape his car on the inside and use napkins to make little holes so he could see to drive.

Yep, my baby sure was taking me around in nothing but luxury. I remember our first Valentine’s Day together, Paul missed the parking lot for the restaurant we wanted to go to so he pulled in the next one to turn around. It was snowing that night but there was hardly any in the parking lot and the Scorpio gets stuck. We were completely blocking anyone who was trying to leave or come in the parking lot. Finally some guy helps push us out, I think the guy was in shock that a car could actually get stuck in that little amount of snow.

Doesn’t Paul have great hair? I mean look at how he styles it. You know why it’s so amazing looking? Because Paul uses Murphey’s Hair Wax. Never heard of if before? Well maybe that’s because it is made for black people. I hate to be the one to tell you this sweetie but you are not black, you are very much white.

But seriously you know I love you; jerseys, black people hair wax, bad taste in music, mild retardness and all. And while I have the floor just let me say Paul, I think it is time you retire those khaki shorts you have with the big whole in the crotch. THANK YOU!

(Enter Jim Byrne again)

Awwwwwww, wasn’t that sweet?

Our next guest comes to us live via satellite to tell us one of his many stories from his journeys with Paul Feuer. Unlike the half-breed that is Paul, this man is a real, bonafide, 100 percent Jew! … please welcome the one, the only, FISHMAN!

(Cut to Big Screen, Fishman’s face on Screen)

I remember it was the start of Winter Break during my junior year of college, and Paul was going to drive me home. The trip from Buffalo to Long Island is a long one – about 8 hours if you take the New York State Thruway, which we were. I knew it was going to be an interesting trip because Paul drives a piece of shit car, which someone already probably talked about. It’s a Scorpio Merkur, or Merkur Scorpio…I don’t really care. The car is simply a piece of shit. Now this story happened when Paul was driving the Scorpio for only a few months. That means the engine was still decent and most of its components were working. Do you know how he bought that car? Paul brought $1000 to a mechanic and went, “What’s the cheapest car you’re selling?”

“That one is $1500,” said the mechanic, pointing to the Scorpio.

“I have $1000.”

“Done.”

The major problem with the Scorpio (at the time) was the car radio. It didn’t turn on unless Paul smacked it a bunch of times with this small plastic rod that used to be a part of his car. When we finally departed his house at 3 p.m. (meaning we wouldn’t get to Long Island until LATE), the radio naturally didn’t turn on. I’d been in Paul’s car before and usually the radio always worked after smacking it about ten times. Not this time. Paul kept whacking it and it refused to turn on. As we approached the turn on the highway that would lead us to the NYS Thruway, the radio turned on.

“Thank God,” I said. “I was worried it would be silent the whole trip.” The car then hit a bump and the radio turned off again. Paul began hitting the radio again. It tired him out, so he handed me the plastic rod and I began bashing the radio. It did not turn on. I was hitting the stupid thing for an hour and it wouldn’t fucking work. I gave up. We were now stuck in the Scorpio for 8 hours with no radio. Just silence.

It wasn’t bad at first. It was still light out so we felt like there was still life around us. Paul and I soon went to a rest stop to eat. I was looking at a map of New York inside. Paul pointed up north and said, “So Buffalo is over here…”

“What?” I responded. “We’re nowhere close to there. We won’t even drive near there.”

“Isn’t that where Buffalo is?”

“No!”

“Oh man! I always thought Buffalo was over there! Aren’t we near Canada?”

“Yeah, but where you’re pointing is near Montreal. We’re near Niagara Falls and Toronto. There’s not even a Great Lake where you’re pointing! Why do you think Buffalo is in Erie County?”

“I don’t know. I just always thought it was there.” Ah, Paul.

Anyway, we left the rest stop and hit the road with the Scorpio once more. The sun was setting now. Once we made it past Syracuse, it was totally dark out. The long stretch to Albany is incredibly boring during the day, so you can imagine what it’s like in pitch black night with no radio to keep you company. Paul and I kept our sanity by singing the theme song to “Hey Dude!” and “Full House,” but it began to wear thin the 46th time around. We sat there, silent. As I leaned my head against the window, I stared at the stars while sadly and slowly banging the radio with the plastic rod again. It did not turn on. Our only break during this painful stretch was stopping in the small town of Clinton (outside of Utica) to have dinner with Todd Grimes.

Paul wasn’t holding up so well. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t holding up at all. He was sleeping. When we got to Albany, Paul was asleep at the wheel! I kept waking him up, but he couldn’t stay awake. He was forced to pull into another rest stop. It was about 8:30 now. Paul instantly fell asleep the moment he pulled into a parking space. How the fuck could he fall asleep? I once drove from Buffalo to Long Island after sleeping only 2 hours the previous night! Anyway, I went into the rest stop, played Ms. Pac-Man for 15 minutes, bought a small bottle of Wild Cherry Pepsi, and went back out to Paul. I woke him up and told him to drink the Pepsi for a caffeine boost. He did and we were once again on our way.

When we were about 30 minutes away from the Tappan Zee Bridge, we again stopped at a rest stop to double check our directions. As we pulled out, the radio suddenly turned on! We only had about an hour left of our trip! Even more amazing, it was Paul’s favorite song: Jenny from the Block! I hated that song to no end, but man, did it sound sweet after 7 1/2 hours of silence.

Paul and I safely made it home, obviously.

(Cut back to Jim Byrne)

You know Paul, I’ve know you for a long time now, and I have to say, I love you man … you are just plain “classic.” And you know I don’t use that word often … I save it only for the finest of occasions.

One of my favorite eras of Feuer had to be the “Yellow Bathing Suit” era. No joke, this guy would wear a YELLOW BATHING SUIT out to the bars. It blows my mind to this day. I am not kidding one bit, and I really don’t think I have to come up with a joke to go a long with this. Just think of your usual underage college bar, and then a kid standing there wearing a YELLOW BATHING SUIT and a basketball jersey.

Who am I to poke fun though? The kid always got more ass than me. Then again, I don’t like sticking my dick in girls that look like Jabba the Hutt, so maybe I do have the advantage after all.

Our next guest, perhaps the most special of them all, was the leading woman in Paul’s life until Miss Jen came along. Please welcome, Paul’s Mom, Mrs. Feuer.

(Paul’s Mom takes the stage)

Hey “Pumpkin Pauly” it’s me Mommy!

I can’t believe you have so many good friends who want to throw a BBQ roast for you! The kid with the big smile, what’s his name, Jimmy? He’s so nice. He should think about cutting his hair though. It makes him look like Transvestite.

I was going to tell you this sooner but everything just seemed to be going so fast. I was talking online the other day, you know under my screen name “blueigirl,” when this random person wrote me. He said he was your friend.

Anyways, to make a long story short I had sexual relations with your friend. I’m sorry Pumpkin but he was just so charming. Then when I saw him in that Rasheed Wallace throwback blazers jersey I just had to have him. Rassle21, man I start to quiver every time I hear that. I got pipes to clean too ya know.

Now that we’re all clear with that I just have one more thing to say before Rassle21 comes over. This is going to come to a shock for you but just calm down it’ll be okay. Sit down first Pumpkin.

Remember when you were born and I said, “Not all boys have one?” Well we were lying to you. All boys have penises and you weren’t born with one. I’ve raised you all of these years as a boy and it’s my entire fault. I just couldn’t handle another little girl getting bloodstains on the carpet. Your real name was supposed to be “Patty Mayonnaise Fever.”

I love you Pumpkin Pauly more than anything in the World. Please forgive Mommy.

(Back to Jim Byrne)

Wow, this explains a lot … I always wondered about this picture of Paul … now we know he is actually a transvestite! You learn something new everyday.

Our next guest is the world famous Ian Valentine. This guy is so damn good looking that they decided to use a look-alike of him to appear in a major Hollywood film.

That movie was The Neverending Story. The character, of course, was Falcore, the flying Dog.

Damn, I wish they would base a movie character on me! Without further ado, here is Ian Valentine!

(Ian takes the stage)

Paul Christopher Feuer. Well, I must admit, you are a great friend of mine. You’re a good person, nice guy, and always there for me.

But there’s one thing about you I love the most, your ability to make me laugh. And I don’t mean because of your lame ass jokes. I’m talking about all the retarded shit you do, that the average person would never, ever do.

The kinds of things that make the retards I took care of look like geniuses.

For some reason however, you finds these things normal and do them without batting an eye. Over the past five years, there have been so many of these occasions, and I feel that since you have made me laugh so much, and always seem to brighten my day, it is my duty to discuss with you these retarded actions and how they have made me laugh.

Starting small, I remember when we played basketball that, in between some of the classic 5-year-old swarm basketball you play, you went for a finger roll from the foul line. When you came up 9 feet short, well, lets just say the whole gym wasn’t laughing with you. That made my 0-6 season record all worthwhile, thanks, seriously.

And the Hair. I mean come on. Is this some joke your playing on yourself? You would think that after all these years of giving yourself fade haircuts that eventually you could do it. But no, week after week it looks like Helen Keller cut your hair. The fade is just not working. I’ll tell you what, next time I see you, I’m going to give you $10 for a real haircut.

As much as it makes me laugh, do us all a favor and cut it, I for one can’t look at that vasectomy of a haircut anymore. And the hair gel you use? What the hell is that all about? Friggin' Pomade, the same gel used for AFROS? Yes afros. Let me tell you Paul, you’re not making that busted haircut look any better with that kind of gel. That shit is greasy, nasty, and reminds me of an STD. Your ‘faded’ haircut + pomade = an abortion of a hairstyle.

Your eating habits have also always kept me entertained. These examples are endless. Lets see, there’s the time I caught you taking ½ a cheeseburger out of the garbage and eating it at Fudruckers, then there’s the time you made hamburger helper for breakfast at 7am. And who can forget the time you found pasta in the fridge that was two weeks old, and decided to just eat around the mold? Or my personal favorite, the time you ate a whole bowl of cereal just to find maggots in the bottom of the bowl. Who the hell does this kind of stuff with their food? Not any normal people that for sure. And you sure as hell aren’t normal, and that’s why you make me laugh.

And what’s the deal with your sex life? I mean one minute you are getting your nipple pierced, getting erotic pictures taken, and going to gay bars all with Dan “Friggin’” Smith, the most notorious gay man in the world, and the other you are getting head in a nun costume, “showing” Anna around UB, and getting paid for hooking up.

What’s the story? Are you swinging both ways? Is your ‘girlfriend’ really your girlfriend, or a cover up? Its an interesting quandary my friend, one that has left me entertained and wondering for years, not that there’s anything wrong with that.

And not that I mind big tits, but Paul, you are a little obsessed. You have no shame with big tits. Even if the girl is fat and nasty, as long as she has big tits, she’s fair game to you. Don’t think I forgot about that FAT stripper from Canada that you bought TWO lap dances from. Come on Paul, I know your morals are about as scarce as showers you take, but come on, we need to draw the line somewhere.

Speaking of your sex life, remember that time you confessed to me that you jerked off 6 times in 1 day, and beat (no pun intended) your old record of 5? And then you even told me you used to jerk off at your high school tennis court, and in the bathroom at Champs. And then I catch you dipping your balls in the BBQ chicken at Boston Market. Boy Paul, what a list of accomplishments. You are officially the loneliest and most desperate man I know.

Paul, you have always kept me entertained, and for that I thank you. This has helped me to consider you a great friend, such a great friend that I don’t want to keep any secrets between us. That being said, I have something you should know. The last time your sister came up, we had rough, sweaty sex, I mean I pedigreed the hell out of her. And there’s more, we have been dating ever since. I figured you wouldn’t mind since we are such good friends. You can wish us the best of luck after the Roast, thanks in advance buddy.

(Jim Byrne takes the stage)

Well, Paul, that pretty much wraps up our roast of you … I hope we didn’t hurt your feelings too badly. Remember, we only did this because we love you. So, until next time … “Take her easy.”

Oh yeah, and to answer your question from sophomore year, no, the Indians did not invent beer.

Questions or comments? E-mail us at ZubazFiles@yahoo.com