Jackie
“The Joke Man”
Martling’s
Disgustingly
Dirty Joke Book
Foreword by
Howard Stern
A FIRESIDE BOOK
PUBLISHED BY SIMON & SCHUSTER
NEW YORK LONDON TORONTO SYDNEY
FIRESIDE
Rockefeller Center
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Copyright © 1997 by Off Hour Rockers, Inc.
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction
in whole or in part in any form.
First Fireside Edition 1998
FIRESIDE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.
Designed by Bonni Leon
Manufactured in the United States of America
10
The Library of Congress has cataloged the Simon & Schuster edition as follows:
Martling, Jackie.
[Disgustingly dirty joke book]
Jackie “the Joke Man” Martling’s disgustingly dirty
joke book / foreword by Howard Stern.
p. cm.
1. Sex—Humor. I.Title.
PN6231.S54M36 1997
818′5402—dc21 97-29288
CIP
ISBN 0-684-84677-2
eISBN-13: 978-1-439-13691-1
ISBN-13: 978-0-6848-5533-2
ISBN 0-684-85533-X (Pbk)
All photos are from the author’s personal collection unless otherwise indicated.
p. 119 (top): photo by Janice Belson Photography
p. 132 (bottom left): photo by Larry Busacca
pp. 2 (upper and bottom left), 34 (bottom left), 35 (top), 97 (top),
179 (second from bottom): photos by Cashman Photo Enterprises of Nevada
pp. 6, 20, 108, 120, 142, 154 (all second row from top, right-hand side);
also pp. 38, 73, 88, 103, 129 (bottom), 173, 219: photo by Gary Lazar
pp. 10 (bottom left), 164 (middle right): photos by Kevin Mazur
p. 70 (middle right): photo by Nickie Melillo
pp. 141 (upper left), 209 (bottom): photo by Brian Smale
p. 224 (bottom right): photo by Michael Somoroff
This book is dedicated to my lovely and talented wife,
Nancy Sirianni, who has had these jokes coming at her a
million different ways since 1974, still manages to laugh at
them, and has not physically abused me yet. I love you, and
I hope we’re still married by the time someone reads this.
also …
A big hunk of warm must go out to my dear
departed chum, Jake LeGrange, the Dutch salad man at
Piping Rock Country Club where I was head busboy.
For four years, I told him jokes nonstop, and he was
absolutely unamused. It forced me to laugh at the jokes
myself and develop the lunatic giggle that
people know me by today.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank my manager, Rory Rosegarten, for everything he keeps promising to do for me. I of course am indebted to Howard Stern for writing the foreword to this literary abomination, and for making me what I am today, a guy who writes joke books to pay his mortgage. And I lovingly thank my wife, Nancy Sirianni (ten years!), for all her unwavering support for as long as I can remember.
I especially want to thank my parents, John and Dot, for the special combination of what they did and didn’t do that made me the kind of guy who not only remembers every filthy joke, story, idea, rhyme, or saying he ever heard in his entire life, but has an unbridled obsession to share them with every human being he can, whether he’s telling them at the bar or launching them into Cyberspace. And much love to my sister Katie Dunn, who somehow endured the entire process and came through relatively unscathed. Lots of big hugs to Eileen Sidor, the Off Hour Rockers Inc. office manager/marriage counselor … please don’t ever tell anyone what I’m really like. And yes, you too, Johnny Collis.
I love Chris Bates for teaching me guitar in ninth grade so we could get laid and sneak into show business. Love to Bob Burford and Vinnie DiNapoli just for being my pals. I appreciate Robin Quivers, Fred Norris, Gary Dell’ Abate, Stuttering John Melendez, and Scott Salem, from the world’s greatest radio show, for listening to my crap since 1983, and I must aim a big wad of appreciation at K-Rock and CBS Radio and The E! Channel for that steady paycheck. And wet smooches to Penthouse magazine for featuring my monthly “Joke Page” among nude babes since 1990.
I want to thank my editor, Irish Todd, and my book designer, Bonni Leon. They both drew short straws and got to work on my project. And Cherise Grant, my paperback editor, who was recently tossed this hot potato. A flipped bird must be aimed at my cover photographer, Brian Smale, who took such perverse delight in sticking real bars of soap into my mouth for two hours. I would thank my lawyers, Larry Shire and Mark Steverson, but I’m afraid I’d be billed for the time it would take them to read this fucking acknowledgment. Many thanks to Nerdland’s Barry Jay and Lynn Harold for seeing to it that I occasionally had a functioning computer. I’d thank my limo driver if I had one.
Last but not least, thanks to anyone who ever went to any of my live shows, called (516) 922-WINE for free dirty jokes, bought some of our JokeLand products, loaded my Joke Button CD-ROM, or visited www.jokeland.com. I hope you enjoy the jokes … it’s taken well over forty wild, soggy, and silly years to accumulate them.
Contents
Foreword by Howard Stern
More Nerve Than Talent
A Safe Distance from Genius
Hoof Hearted? Ice Melted.
Use Your Finger!
Strangers in My Mouth
Lipstick on My Dipstick
Nipple Hair
Douches Are Wild
My Turn in the Barrel
The Puckered Starfish
A Feather in My Crap
Name That Tuna
Hot Dogs and Donuts
Sgt. Pecker
Kiss the Pickle
What Did You Expect?
Foreword by
Howard Stern
Guess what? I won. No, not the lottery. I won the honor of writing the foreword to Jackie Martling’s joke book. I must have an angel watching over me. In addition to having an undersized manhood, and a nose the size of a watermelon, I got chosen to write a piece on Jackie “The Joke Man” Martling.
You would think that the man chosen to write the foreword would know something about the contents of this book, but I really don’t. Usually when you write a foreword they give you an advance copy and let you get familiar with the material. Jackie never gave me much information He just grabbed ahold of me after the radio show a few months ago and mumbled something about book deal, the biggest break of his life, and the foreword … would you write it? I don’t think he really wanted me to write this foreword, but the book company (Simon & Schuster) probably pressured him to somehow get me involved. It’s called hedging their bet. They figure if you don’t give a shit about Jackie, maybe you’ll give a damn about my stupid intro. What morons these guys in publishing are. Like you’re going to be stupid enough to buy this whole book just for a few measly pages from me. Any asshole with half a brain knows you can just stand in the bookstore and read my intro and then put the book back on the shelf. I read in the New York Post that Simon & Schuster paid Jackie five hundred thousand dollars for this book. If that is the case, they must be shitting in their collective pants and pressuring the bejesus out of Jackie to get me to write the stupid foreword. All I can tell you is that if Simon & Schus
ter paid him that much, then both Simon and his stupid partner Schuster should have their fucking heads examined. I’ve seen Jackie write joke books for pennies just so he could see his name on the cover of something. All I can say is Jackie sure saw these guys coming. Somebody better call the rape crisis center because I think Mr. Simon and Mr. Schuster just got bent over a chair and boned by an overweight wise guy. Personally, I refuse to believe that Jackie got anywhere close to that amount of money. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to sleep at night.
Anyway, my guess is that the book is mostly wacky riddles and limericks or something. Jackie’s whole life is wacky riddles and limericks. To tell you the truth, I don’t care what the book is because chances are I’ll be too busy to read it. Jackie has already written ten million joke books filled with riddles and limericks that I never read, and like all of Jackie’s sad business stories they never sold, or they sold and the book company went bankrupt and screwed him out of his money.
Most people would be complimented to be asked to write the foreword to a book, but me, I’m annoyed. First of all, I hate writing. I especially hate writing when I’m not getting paid. Second, I hate when Jackie asks me to do something, because I really don’t have the option of saying no. If I say no, he will pout and moan, and since he is my head writer he will probably take revenge on me and keep his best jokes to himself. Then his beautiful but annoying wife will fill Jackie’s head with negative thoughts about me. In a sense, there’s a gun to my head, so I just better do this and quit my bitching.
Usually when you write a foreword to someone’s book you are very close to that person and you are most likely his or her best friend. I am not Jackie’s best friend and I am certainly not close to him. In this case I am being given the honor of writing this foreword because I’m the most famous person that has met Jackie that is still willing to talk to him. Jackie knows Rodney Dangerfield, but Rodney no longer likes Jackie because Jackie owes Rodney two thousand dollars and refuses to pay back the loan. To call Jackie a welcher would be an understatement. As Jackie always says to me, “Hey, Rodney’s got plenty of dough. What’s he need with my lousy two grand?”
Jackie was friends with Eddie Murphy for ten minutes. Before Eddie Murphy got famous, he tried to befriend Jackie, but Jackie figured it was a good idea to blow off Eddie’s friendship because “where the hell is this black kid going anyway? He can’t do anything for me.” So, here I am, the biggest celebrity in Jackie’s life. My luck. I get to write the foreword when I could be outside by my pool on this beautiful June afternoon.
Now, don’t let me mislead you. I love the Joke Man and I wish him well. I mean it. He’s the funniest fucking guy and a hell of a lot of fun. We work together every day and have the best working relationship and chemistry a diss jockey and a joke man could ask for. The man can make me laugh, and he told me one of the sickest jokes I ever heard in my life. Jackie knows ten billion jokes. People tell me jokes all day and I can’t remember any of them except for one that Jackie told me. Here it is:
A child molester is walking down the street with a young child, heading for the woods. The little boy says, “I’m afraid. It’s dark, and I’m really scared.” The child molester gives the little boy a disgusted look and says, “How do you think I feel? I have to walk home alone.”
Now how can you not love a guy who tells you total garbage like that? Brilliant! Sick, but brilliant! Those words describe the Joke Man perfectly. Sick, brilliant. And, oh yes … charming. Jackie is charming. He’s done incredibly charming things. Like having sex with amputees, shitting out of car windows, and he even pissed in his mother’s face while he was trying to urinate in a beer bottle. Better yet, his grandmother caught him jerking off in the snow. I love that. The man has lived. The man has had life experience and I admire that. But that’s all I know about the legendary Joke Man, the big outrageous stories. I realize sitting here that I don’t know the small, intimate details of his life. Our relationship is so shallow that we never really communicate. I mean, every day I sit across from that lovable, wrinkled, weathered face that looks so much older than its forty-nine years, and I know so little about him. Does Jackie believe in God? Does Jackie read books? Does Jackie drink anything besides Bloody Marys? I mean, what the fuck is Jackie’s favorite TV show? And has Jackie ever stuck his penis inside a prostitute’s disease-ridden pussy? My God, I don’t know the answers. I just don’t know.
Sure, I’ve visited his home and spent time with his sexy, horny wife, Nancy, but how well do I really know him? Walking through his abode and looking over his possessions didn’t really tell me all that much about the man. Sure, I thought it was peculiar and incredibly vain that Jackie had hundreds of pictures of himself hanging on the walls of his dilapidated house, and I must admit it was rather disturbing seeing the stack of books his wife had lying around with titles like How to Live with an Alcoholic. I mean, what does that tell you about a guy? What, he likes a few cocktails? So the guy has a drinking problem and his wife can’t deal with it. Jeez, that’s just superficial stuff.
It’s odd that I don’t know that much about Jackie. What kind of man am I that I don’t know squat about a guy who has written me some of my best material? I mean, sure I know that he has a horrible affliction on his feet called ten nail syndrome that left him with a yellowing, rotting fungus on his toenails that eventually led to all his nails being removed by a doctor that Jackie found in the Pennysaver, a free newspaper. Let’s face it, that story alone tells you something about a guy. But it’s just tip-of-the-iceberg stuff. Sure, I know a few stories about Jackie, like when he slept over some guy’s house and he used the dude’s toothbrush and thought that was perfectly fine, even though that toothbrush could have been covered in some kind of horrible infectious disease. He considered that normal behavior. You know what? You’ll have to excuse me for a second, because I think I have to go throw up.
All right, I’m better now. Look, aside from Jackie’s disgusting personal hygiene, I realized how little I knew about the Joke Man, and I decided to do a little research in an attempt to learn something about him. Here’s everything I know after hours of exhaustive detective work. I worked hard on getting to know Jackie, and I really dug deep to find out the whole story. Maybe it’s important to know something about Jackie, but most likely there is absolutely no good reason to know anything about Jackie. But I’ve got to write something.
So here goes … everything you want to know about Jackie.
John Coger (what’s a Coger?) Martling, Jr., was born in Mineola, Long Island, a suburb of New York City, on February 14, 1948. Valentine’s Day. He stands five feet seven and one-half inches tall and weighs 190 pounds. He comes from a long line of Republicans but is a registered Democrat, and he voted for both Clinton and Bush in previous elections. Jackie is a Methodist. Funny, but it never occurred to me that Jackie would be the slightest bit religious or hopeful of ever going to heaven after his history of screwing one-legged women and fat chicks only to dump them without explanation the next day. Jackie’s held lots of jobs. He’s worked as a caddie, a head busboy, a short-order cook, and a concrete form setter, and he managed a recording studio before starting a rock band and eventually becoming a stand-up comic.
His favorite films · My Favorite Year and The Godfather (I and II).
Favorite book · Slaughterhouse-Five. I know, that took me by surprise as well.
Favorite TV shows · The Larry Sanders Show and E.R.
Out of all the celebrities we’ve ever had on the show, Jackie was most excited to meet Mickey Mantle. He thinks Pat Cooper is the funniest guest, and was most moved by the live in-studio performances of James Taylor.
You would think that Jackie was a man of taste based on some of this information, but don’t be fooled. It’s Jackie’s favorite song that disturbs me most. The brilliance of Hendrix, Zeppelin, and the Beatles is all wasted on the Martling eardrums, because Jackie thinks that something called “The Dutchman,” written by some guy named Mike Smit
h and recorded by Steve Goodman, is the best song ever written. Now, that would probably explain why Jackie is a failed musician, and a song that he wrote, “The Pot Song,” went straight to the bottom of the charts. Jackie’s other song was a lot less frivolous. It was called “Cold Gold,” and it was about his love of beer. Pretty heavy stuff. Starting to get a fuller picture of the author of this book? It ain’t pretty, is it? It’s goddamned sad is what it is, I’ll tell you.
And who knew that Jackie had a nickname? Which of these would you guess is his?
Fuckface
Jewboy
The Chief
Well, if you said (C), the Chief, you’d be correct. The Chief? The Chief of what? Bayville, Long Island? Good grief.
Are you starting to know Jackie? Are you feeling closer to him? Or are you like me and you just realized that none of this information is useful or relevant?
Okay, so for those of you who are diehard fans of Jackie “the Joke Man,” I’ll quiz you some more.
Who in history would Jackie most like to meet?
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Lenny Bruce
Robert F. Kennedy
Percy Martling
Well, the pathetic answer is (D). Some loser named Percy Martling, whose only contribution to greatness was providing the sperm to produce Jackie’s father.
Try another one.
Jackie was arrested for which offense?
Insufficient money for a speeding ticket in 1965
Drunk and disorderly in 1967
Caught with stolen goods in 1969
Disgustingly Dirty Joke Book Page 1
