Happy Halloween, douchebags

I dig Halloween, but it's only been in the past few years that I started to feel the love. Patrick Jihad has always been big into Christmas. He likes the carols and the sentiment and the whole mistletoe thing -- who invented that little gimmick, I have no idea, but what a fucking brainstorm that was -- grab strange hot chicks and make out with them under a plant? Hellfuckin'yeah!  But I take the mistletoe a step further and start groping all the women I get under the mistletoe. I'm very selective, of course -- no trolls -- but make no mistake, I go for volume. I start right after Thanksgiving, and if I haven't molested 30 or 40 sets of titties by Christmas, the shame is mine. And it's really a public service, when you think about it. I've detected no fewer than four lumps over the years -- none malignant, thank God. Two of those lumps I actually discovered while performing oral groposcomies, a very detailed and intimate procedure I reserve for "Ladies of Quality."  Patrick Jihad has always been a giver.

But now I am into Halloween because I've been involved with a haunted house in my neighborhood. It's pretty cool. I dress up as the Grim Reaper, hook up an amplifier and hide a microphone in my cloak and the GR's voice BOOMS out over the crowd! I work the guillotine. I am the man. Nobody fucks with death -- well, mostly nobody -- I had to declare motherfucking Jihad on some smart-ass 14 year old  fuck face who started talking shit to the Grim Reaper last year. I was like What the Fuck? Who fucking squares off on the motherfucking Grim Reaper handing out candy? You don't say shit to the Grim Reaper except "Thanks for the Twizzlers." But this little piece of redneck trash starts telling the Grim Reaper "You ain't shit!" "You ain't scary, motherfucker!"

And that's when Patrick Jihad came out and made the Reaper back the fuck up for a minute. I told that little fucking cocksucker to shut the fuck up, take his motherfucking Twizzlers and get the fuck out of the Haunted house or else I'd find out where he lived, come over there in the middle of the night, beat his boney ass with a bike chain while he slept, skull fuck his trailer-trash crack whore of a mom until she had an imprint of my dick on her tonsils then beat her with the bike chain too. I was screaming into the microphone, so it's loud as shit and this little retard is standing there like Rain Man listening to it with his mouth hanging open.

He left his Twizzlers, the little pussy. The next kid in line, a short kid with a limp like Tiny Tim hobbled up and got it. I was still pissed so I told him to take another Twizzler or else I'd cripple up his other fucking leg. He grabbed the second piece of candy and hobbled away like a bitch. Then I calmly became the Reaper again.

From then on, shit was right. Nobody talked smack and I got to be the Reaper the rest of the night. It hurt me to declare Jihad an that kid, I have to be honest. But take your goddamn Twizzler for Halloween and shut the fuck up.

Cupcakes and Finger Fucking ... I dare you to not read this.

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A long time coming

I don't know, it's just that sometimes it seems like I have nothing to say, or at the very least, little motivation to say it. Lately, my life is a series of dental appointments.

That'll be $5 batrillion, please. If you want it numb it's gonna cost you.

  I didn't know dentistry was so closely related to proctology, but, sure enough, my dentist had two hands in my mouth and his accountant with a calculator and a clipboard jammed up my ass just this very morning. It was a BIG clipboard. Fuck coffee, if you want  to wake up fast, shove a small Jew named Cohen up your pooper. That's motivation! 

  I am unclear if the bean counter found what he was looking for, but I doubt insurance is gonna cover the cost of taking him out of my butthole. You can bet your left nut that's coming out of pocket.

 As for Dr. Mengele -- that's not really him in the picture, that's Bea Arthur from some movie in the '20s transposed over a picture of Bill Bixby from the "Incredible Hulk,"  I believe. Apparently somebody got handy with PhotoShop.

 But the picture is a solid representation of what the dental appointment was like earlier today. Me in the chair, mouth jammed open, and Bea Arthur with a fucking half-nelson on my melon to keep me from moving.  

  I thought for sure I was gonna get numbed up before hand, and even said as much, but Bea called me a pussy and told me to shut up or she would get the BIG pliers, and screw all that, I thought, so I took it like a bad motherfucker -- like Samuel Jackson in "Pulp Fiction," except I'm not black, unless I'm naked.

  But then the bitch hit a nerve and stayed on it like a Great Dane fucking a hot Shiba Inu. Bea drilled it, man. She found the sweet spot and lit it up, sparks flying, smoke coming up like fucking  Dachau. I'm sure I passed out several times from the pain -- which Bea said was totally normal -- but I made it through to write this today.

  So, the moral of this story is, obviously, get a good butt doctor and have him work on your teeth from the inside because dentists are some sadistic motherfuckers, and that's real, just ask Bea Arthur.

Heading down the ocean

That's what Marylanders call going to the beach. Well, that's what they call going to Ocean City, Maryland, anyway. Which is what I, Mrs. Jihad, little JiJi and her infidel friend will be doing later this morning. Nothing major, mind you, just a drive down, a day eating Thrashers fries on the boardwalk, spending too many dinars on arcade games and cotton candy. Fun stuff, ya know.

Sarah Palin for President

Regardless of how stupid Sarah Palin is -- and she is Dog the Bounty Hunter stupid -- her track record as an opportunist is nothing short of astounding, and that has to be acknowledged. I can call her a fraud and a red neck -- both of which she most certainly is -- but the truth is Sarah Palin looks out for number one like nobody I've ever seen in my life. And the country has John McCain to thank for unleashing her on America.

Sarah Palin is trailer trash. Sarah Palin is red neck. Sarah Palin is shallow. Sarah Palin is everything that is wrong with the Republican Party today. Sarah Palin is a transparent publicity whore who has stumbled into a position of leadership in this country that few people with any real sense whatsoever feel she understands. And how did she do that? Desperation and opportunity.

Johhn McCain was so desperate to make a splash in a presidential race everybody -- and I mean EVERYBODY -- knew was lost when the race began that he thought bringing in a true Beltway outsider was the only way he could have any chance at all to even be remembered for running. Enter Sarah Palin, who, to her credit, didn't see this as McCain thought she would. McCain undoubtedly reasoned Palin would be so flattered, so happy just to be on a national stage with such a big-name politician she would take the crumb he offered and fall in line like a good soldier. But Palin saw a way out of Alaska. She saw much more than a brief moment in the limelight. This was opportunity not only knocking on Sarah Palin's door, but damn near busting it down; and as the ultimate opportunist, Palin was compelled to open the door and let it in. She had and has no respect for McCain. She views him as he is -- a doddering old man with a washed out record of political capitulation, willing to butt fuck his mom if it will get him another six years in the Senate -- and left him in the dust even before the last election was over. Adios, loser.


Which brings us to the remaining field of prospective Republican presidential hopefuls. Some of the best include:

Mitt Romney -- Let me say one word. Mormon. I might as well be saying Scientologist. Romney? As if.
Rick Santorum --  Still waiting for his first pubic hair to come in. Google his last name. Puhleeeease.
Michelle Bachmann -- Bat shit fucking crazy. Not many people know she was once a Democrat. She was also once sane. Great ass. I'd fuck her if I could muzzle her.
Donald Trump -- I can't even believe I had to include him. That I did speaks to the shambles that is the Republican Party.
Lindsey Graham -- Gay as a day is long, not that there is anything wrong with that, except in politics. He might as well be convicted of molesting puppies, not that there is anything wrong with that, either; I mean, who hasn't?
Jeb Bush -- Rigghhhht.Wha ...? Seriously?  SERIOUSLY?????
Donald Trump's toupee -- This is a long shot, but if the toupee does well in the primary, it might be able to carry the momentum to the nomination, and then, who knows!?!?!?

THE END OF THE WORLD WAS YESTERDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You are reading this in Heaven --or HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQAVJAaSHAk&feature=fvst

Ignore the 30 seconds of YT bullshit, the payoff is the crazy bastard who says he won't be here tomorrow -- which is today, Sunday, May 22. Of course, Harold Camping, is indeed still among us as I write this, unless the douchetard had the good grace to either die of embarrassment or commit hari kari.

But then I got to thinking, wouldn't it be pretty cool if 200 million people just started taking off for the heavens? One minute you're ordering a beef burrito from Taco Bell -- just a little guac, mild on the salsa -- and like POOF! the only white chick in the place -- the one behind the counter -- starts rising into the air, THROUGH the ventilation and the roof and into the sky, flipping you off on the way up to Heaven screaming Peace Out, MOTHERFUCKER!!!!! I am going to live with Jesus Christ in the Kingdom of motherfucking Heaven, eating beef burritos all day long and swimming in vats of guacamole!!! SUCK IT, BIIIIATCHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And I am still in line behind some fat, greasy trailer trash whore with BO that punches like Chuck Norris waiting for my burrito. I would be so pissed off. But who do you complain to? The manager is watching her lame-ass employee -- who couldn't make it to work on time if she had a police escort -- fly through the motherfucking clouds to meet Jesus. The manager ain't doing shit but falling to her knees and crossing herself like she thinks one of the Four Horsemen is coming through the door.

And I am still waiting. I know for sure now my burrito is gonna be delayed, but I've already paid, you know? I mean, it ain't like I'm leaving without my food. I am $5.52 into this bitch and money is tight nowadays. Fuck that.

So now, the retarded counter girl is soaring past my cell phone tower and I can't get the crazy fucking Haitians in the 400-degree kitchen to put my burrito together. They don't speak English and I can't speak Illegal Immigrant. I can see that floating bitch out the drive-trough window and she ain't slowin' down at all. By now I am near a seizure because I know there is no way in hell I'm gonna be eating in the next 10 minutes because few things move slower than a contrite Haitian in a Taco Bell -- everybody knows that.

Finally, my order comes up -- Nachos Grande, a chicken chaluppa and medium soda. By now it's been 25 minutes since I ordered and the Rapture is full-on. I mean, people are floating everywhere, like in the motherfucking Matrix. People are getting all Raptured out their car windows and stuff -- I mean, it ain't like Jesus is gonna wait for you to park the car, ya know?

So you got car wrecks and airliners falling out of the sky; first because people are all Rapturing through the engines and stuff and also because some of the pilots are Raptured right out the fucking planes. But it's cool, ya know, because God's got this. The planes that are falling out of the sky are only gonna land on houses full of people who aren't gonna be Raptured, right? I mean, wouldn't it just suck if an airliner plowed through a church full of people getting ready for take-off? God wouldn't let that happen. He only wants to hurt the ones who aren't gonna be all Raptured, right?

But I'm just kidding anyway, you know? Just playing a game of "what if." No Rapture happened yesterday and none happened today. However, through some kind of miracle, I was able to mow the yard, trim the rose bush in the front yard AND kick my kid's ass in Wii bowling, so there was definitely something mystical in the air, just not the end of the world Harold Camping predicted.

Now it's up to the Mayans. You know, the whole 2012 thing they had working before they got erased from theplanet 1,500 years ago or so?You would think they would have seen that one coming.

Yeah, 2012! That ought to be good times. Maybe Harold Camping should check into it.

This is some funny shit right here. Chimps in general are hilarious, and notoriously big drinkers. If you ever get the chance to throw down with a chimp, I suggest you take it. But never party with marsupials. They can't hold their liquor and always want to "jump into your pouch," if you know what I mean. That's gay. And by gay I mean fucked up, not faggy. Unless it's a dude chimp, in which case it would then be faggy AND gay.