Insights into the history and character of Jerri Blank

Many of these insights were gleaned from the "Ask Jerri"
section of the Comedy Central SWC pages.

= Tony's favorites

Click here to see a timeline of the
"Life and Good Times of Jerri Blank"

Responding to a question about a bartender's prediction of a dark future: If you're talking about One Eyed Mel over at the Pit of Sorrow, then he's probably referring to the kneecap drilling I promised him and his patrons when he testified against me back in Louisiana. Thanks for the reminder.

When asked who her inspirational role models have been?: For inspiration and guidance, I usually turned to the surrogate street families that helped me through my awkward teens and twenties and thirties. Thereís Madame Tanya and the girls at Tanyaís Tropical Bodywork Boutique, behind the condemned Exxon station in Fayetteville, North Carolina, and Linus, a trick of mine from Miami who had my name branded onto his back and has always been sort of a father figure to me.

On her own "special sauce": Itís funny Ė here I am getting letters from people begging me to have sex in front of them, and the last people I had sex in front of (two plainclothes cops at the public playground) wonít let me hear the end of it. But letís talk about you, Rebecca. You sound lonely. And freaky. Iíll bet you could make my Furby foamier than a rabid dogís whiskers. Why donít you come down to the boarded-up taco stand on Elm Street tomorrow night? Iím there most school nights, serving up Jerri-style tacos to all comers. The sauce is my own special recipe. Itís extra spicy, and watch out! Itíll burn your tongue. Iíve talked to the doctor about it and he says that if I wash more often and take my pills, the sauce should cool down. Until then, Becky, Iím gonna make you feel the burn!

When asked about her tattoos: As I write this Iím admiring my favorite tattoo in the mirror Ė a bare-breasted Latina with fire in her eyes, riding an angry cottonmouth snake into tall grass. Itís a copper and ballpoint deal I got in the joint to commemorate a very sweet, mutually rewarding relationship I had with Inez, a frequently bare-breasted Puerto Rican arsonist with a thing for snakes. Oh, Inez. Can you feel my heart ache for you? I know you Internet perverts are dying to know exactly where my angry snake is squirming. Well there are some secrets a lady never shares Ė but Iíll give you a hint. Letís just say that the "tall grass" the snakeís making a break for ainít part of the tattoo.

When asked how to go about putting together a wardrobe like hers (besides shopping at the Comfort Zone): As for my wardrobe, Iíll let you in on a secret Ė churches are a fashion goldmine, especially around the wintertime. You find all kinds of great clothes just sitting there in cardboard boxes by the door. Securityís lax, too Ė when I see a sexy little fringed tube top I like, or a vintage acid-washed blouse, I use the old five-finger discount and strut right through the door. Those church people are pussies Ė they wonít even try to stop you. But just in case, I recommend waving a knife around a bit before you take anything.

When asked if she and Principal Blackman have ever gotten it on: You see me having steamy, sweat-drenched, stand-up sex with a bald, 6í5" black man in the girlsí showers, and right away you assume that Iím with Principal Blackman. Apparently youíve forgotten about Mo, the Kenyan gas station attendant who hangs around the school parking lot. Thatís right, Mo! Now how do you feel? Just leave your letters of apology outside my locker.

When asked if she's a hermaphrodite: I don't have a penis, and my vagina at this point is covered by a thick layer of scar tissue. It's kind of like cauliflower ears for wrestlers. Just too much wear and tear over the years. Especially from my Donkey show in Tijuana. Boy did that Ramon know how to wrassle! Anyway, that operation is a waste of money. You can buy enough vibrators and french ticklers to do twice the work of some sewn on, makeshift wang job. I hoped you guys would know I was smarter than that. F@!k the plastic surgeons!    (Jerri later explained her discovery that with donkeys, as it is with men, the way to their hearts is through their stomachs. She enticed Ramon into her nether regions with strategically placed carrots.)

In response to a reader's concern over occasional green fecal matter: Dear Dochamique, I know that itís better than red or black. If I were you Iíd try planting it and see what grows. One time I planted a multi-colored stinky of mine, and got a Japanese maple. Nature is a wonderful thing isnít it?

About her piercing: My man Nico installed what I call "the liberty bell" onto my clitoris back in the summer of '73. Did a damn good job too.

On her special skills and talents: I can make a condom out of saran wrap and butter, I can hot wire a car with my hands cuffed, and I can perform a trachaeotomy with a broken piece of glass and some peroxide.

In response to a woman who wants a friend to admit to himself that he's gay: Dear Fag Hag in Waiting,
The solution to your problem is simple. It's called an orgy. Just make sure you pack the orgy area with an even amount of men and women. Then just set up a video camera and let nature take it's course. Later bring the tape over to your friend's place and show him the results. If he's gay I betcha it'll be crystal clear on the video. Hey, you can't argue with hard evidence, baby.

On Love: I've been in love more times than I care to remember, and most of the times I couldn't remember if I tried. When that damn lovey feeling comes over me my reactions are always different. Back in '84 I fell in love with my pimp, Santos, and began scratching violently. In 1990 I fell in love with a horse after a short but life changing video shoot for a independent production company. I felt that no man could ever hope to offer me what that horse gave me that day so I felt sad. Sad at the thought that a woman like me and a horse like him would never make it in this closed minded world. Then came my greatest love Penelope, my cell mate during the final 3 years of my sentence for drug running and prostitution. There I realized that true love is being someone's bitch. As her bitch, Penelope would always get me my cigarettes, spot me in the weight room, and stick a shiv in any con who even looked at me sideways. I felt complete security while at the same time feeling trapped, but I chalked that up as a reaction to being locked in a cage for 10 years.

On Orlando (the pan-faced chimp) and other Filipinos: Having sex with a Filipino violates every law nature has set for us to obey. I love Orlando, he's my best friend, but he is an unfortunate descendant of an inferior race of monkey like savages, governed by corrupt leaders with small feet.

When asked what the letters on her knuckles spell: H-A-R-D  L-U-C-K

In response to a fan who wanted advice on how to seduce his English teacher, she offered a favorite poem:

I put my hand in your pants.
Thatís a sentence
with a little period at the end
Hole is a noun
Thrust a verb
Might you have an adjective to lend

Go to Comedy Central's Strangers With Candy page