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.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
Cupcakes and Finger Fucking ... I dare you to not read this.
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Monday, July 18, 2011
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.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
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.
Friday, May 27, 2011
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!?!?!?
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!?!?!?
Sunday, May 22, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, May 20, 2011
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.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Famous movie quotes that never were ...
"I'm going to make him an offer he can't refuse." -- Don Vito Corleone, The Godfather
"Hold him still while I do jumping jacks on his balls." -- Patrick Jihad
"Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore." -- Dorothy Gale, Wizard of Oz
"Toto, there are some ugly fucking midgets all up in here." -- Patrick Jihad
"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." -- Rhett Butler, Gone with the Wind
"Frankly, my dear, you smell like santorum." -- Patrick Jihad
"Go ahead, make my day" -- Harry Callahan, Dirty Harry
What, are you gonna fuck with Dirty Harry? -- Patrick Jihad
"All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up." -- Norma Desmond, Sunset Boulevard
"All right, Mr. DeVille, my, that's a big car you have..." -- Patrick Jihad
"May the Force be with you." -- Han Solo, Star Wars
"What the fuck, Carrie? Are those cinnamon rolls stuck to your head?" -- Patrick Jihad
"What we've got here is (a) failure to communicate." -- Captain Strother Martin, Cool Hand Luke
"Luke, I am gonna beat you like a rabid black cat." -- Patrick Jihad
"I love the smell of napalm in the morning!" -- Lt. Col. Bill Kilgore, Apocalypse Now
" I love the smell of crack whores in the morning." -- Patrick Jihad
"E.T. phone home." -- E.T., E.T.
"ET, why is your head so lumpy? -- Patrick Jihad
"If you build it, he will come." -- Shoeless Joe Jackson, Field of Dreams
"If you build it, you must be Chinese." -- Patrick Jihad
"Hold him still while I do jumping jacks on his balls." -- Patrick Jihad
"Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore." -- Dorothy Gale, Wizard of Oz
"Toto, there are some ugly fucking midgets all up in here." -- Patrick Jihad
"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." -- Rhett Butler, Gone with the Wind
"Frankly, my dear, you smell like santorum." -- Patrick Jihad
"Go ahead, make my day" -- Harry Callahan, Dirty Harry
What, are you gonna fuck with Dirty Harry? -- Patrick Jihad
"All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up." -- Norma Desmond, Sunset Boulevard
"All right, Mr. DeVille, my, that's a big car you have..." -- Patrick Jihad
"May the Force be with you." -- Han Solo, Star Wars
"What the fuck, Carrie? Are those cinnamon rolls stuck to your head?" -- Patrick Jihad
"What we've got here is (a) failure to communicate." -- Captain Strother Martin, Cool Hand Luke
"Luke, I am gonna beat you like a rabid black cat." -- Patrick Jihad
"I love the smell of napalm in the morning!" -- Lt. Col. Bill Kilgore, Apocalypse Now
" I love the smell of crack whores in the morning." -- Patrick Jihad
"E.T. phone home." -- E.T., E.T.
"ET, why is your head so lumpy? -- Patrick Jihad
"If you build it, he will come." -- Shoeless Joe Jackson, Field of Dreams
"If you build it, you must be Chinese." -- Patrick Jihad
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Bad Vajayjay
Dear Gabby: When my ex-boyfriend and I called it off, he was very heavyset. (He was 5’10” and 250 lbs.) He was slimmer when we met, and then his life became stressful. (His cat died, his mom got cancer, and his niece was molested by her stepfather.) I wanted him to lose some weight for health reasons, but he wouldn’t. His eating habits were grossing me out. He went to McDonald’s almost every day and ordered three Big Macs. So we broke up eight months ago because of all the arguments.
Well, here’s the sad part. He’s thinner now (about 175 lbs. of muscle) and has a new girlfriend, who’s a total witch. And he’s hotter than he used to be. I really would like him back because he’s hot and slim. How can I step on his witchy new girlfriend so I can get him back? — Douchebag
Dear Douchebag: If you made a play for him, he might figure out it was all about the physical aspects, which is none too flattering. As for the witch, I would not move to dislodge her. My only suggestion would be to let him know that you find yourself missing him and see if he responds. Or doesn’t. — Gabby
Dear Douchebag: Likely, your boyfriend -- who was slimmer when you met -- gained significant weight because he realized you are a nagging fucking psycho who's only interested in getting your polluted vagina stuffed with any kind of meat product you can find. He ordered three Big Macs because he was fucking hungry after constantly barfing like a strung-out bulimic from looking at your atrocious grossness every night. By all means, throw your skanky, scab-ridden skeleton at him one more time! What have you got to lose? After all, it ain't like self-respect is something you hold dear, you fucking crack whore. And when he says, "thanks, no," try to not weep openly. You don't want your STD-laden tears to wash away any of the crusty skankiness you have worked so hard to acquire. You stupid douche.
Well, here’s the sad part. He’s thinner now (about 175 lbs. of muscle) and has a new girlfriend, who’s a total witch. And he’s hotter than he used to be. I really would like him back because he’s hot and slim. How can I step on his witchy new girlfriend so I can get him back? — Douchebag
Dear Douchebag: If you made a play for him, he might figure out it was all about the physical aspects, which is none too flattering. As for the witch, I would not move to dislodge her. My only suggestion would be to let him know that you find yourself missing him and see if he responds. Or doesn’t. — Gabby
What Vajayjay would have told her:
 |
| This is Douchebag, the crack whore. |
Dear Douchebag: Likely, your boyfriend -- who was slimmer when you met -- gained significant weight because he realized you are a nagging fucking psycho who's only interested in getting your polluted vagina stuffed with any kind of meat product you can find. He ordered three Big Macs because he was fucking hungry after constantly barfing like a strung-out bulimic from looking at your atrocious grossness every night. By all means, throw your skanky, scab-ridden skeleton at him one more time! What have you got to lose? After all, it ain't like self-respect is something you hold dear, you fucking crack whore. And when he says, "thanks, no," try to not weep openly. You don't want your STD-laden tears to wash away any of the crusty skankiness you have worked so hard to acquire. You stupid douche.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Yard work
Sucks
more than cankers.
more than a sweaty nut sack.
more than an ugly stripper
more than stale beer
more than cold pizza
more than chicks with hairy nipples
more than last call
more than shitty money shots
more than red lights
more than Adam Sandler
But yard work still doesn't suck:
as much as rectal drainage
as much as women's gymnastics
as much as cold vajayjay
as much as cats
as much as the Baltimore Orioles
as much as riding the Blue Line in the same car as a homeless man with beer farts
as much as sleeping on the wet spot.
as much as going down on a fat girl.
as much as people who don't know they're stupid.
as much as Pauley Shore
more than cankers.
more than a sweaty nut sack.
more than an ugly stripper
more than stale beer
more than cold pizza
more than chicks with hairy nipples
more than last call
more than shitty money shots
more than red lights
more than Adam Sandler
But yard work still doesn't suck:
as much as rectal drainage
as much as women's gymnastics
as much as cold vajayjay
as much as cats
as much as the Baltimore Orioles
as much as riding the Blue Line in the same car as a homeless man with beer farts
as much as sleeping on the wet spot.
as much as going down on a fat girl.
as much as people who don't know they're stupid.
as much as Pauley Shore
Thursday, April 28, 2011
A royal pain in my balls
Jesus H. Christ, for the love of all that is not retarded in this world, can we please, PRETTY PLEASE shut the fuck up about the latest royal wedding? I swear to Bob Barker's spotless colon that if I hear one more fucking word about leg-o-mutton sleeves or how Queen Elizabeth thinks Kate Middleton is the best thing since Tivo I am gonna go postal all over Buckingham Palace, starting with the Queen Mum -- who I will dig up, shoot in the skull, punch in her fucking bony cervix and then leave out for circling paparazzi to pepper with relentless questions about her drastic weight loss while she remains very quiet about it.
Who the hell really even cares about this bullshit, except for women and over the top fags who see this not as a celebration of love but as a reason to get fucked up and have unprotected sex in loos from Scotland Yard to Stonehenge and back again? Having never been to London OR Stonehenge, I don't know how many loos that is, but I bet it's a whole fucking bunch -- at least five. Brits are notorious for not going to the toilet a lot, part of the reason so many of them are full of shit. It's true. Look it up.
And the media has jumped right in. They are the ones yelling about how wonderful this is and how it unites the country in a harmonious love fest that will run the course of a fairy tale. Now, if by that they mean Kate Middleton will drink a potion that will ultimately kill her, I am all for it. Take two, my dear! But if they really think this is gonna be a love that defines a century, I have a London Bridge to sell them. I give this sham of a marriage 10 years tops before William decides his princely seed needs to be deposited in another fair maiden and calls Hugh Grant for a couple phone numbers of some quality leg. Fuck it. Make it five years. He's young and horny. Kate will be lucky if Wild Bill ain't leg humping the mote operator the night of the wedding.
Jesus, I can't wait for this bullshit to be over.
But you know the Japanese are loving this shit up. Fuck four melting nuclear reactors and a tsunami. With this royal wedding going on and the way the US press has bent over to take it in the anus for them, we don't hear a fucking peep about them.
Natural disasters are no match for royalty -- at least not in the United States.
Who the hell really even cares about this bullshit, except for women and over the top fags who see this not as a celebration of love but as a reason to get fucked up and have unprotected sex in loos from Scotland Yard to Stonehenge and back again? Having never been to London OR Stonehenge, I don't know how many loos that is, but I bet it's a whole fucking bunch -- at least five. Brits are notorious for not going to the toilet a lot, part of the reason so many of them are full of shit. It's true. Look it up.
And the media has jumped right in. They are the ones yelling about how wonderful this is and how it unites the country in a harmonious love fest that will run the course of a fairy tale. Now, if by that they mean Kate Middleton will drink a potion that will ultimately kill her, I am all for it. Take two, my dear! But if they really think this is gonna be a love that defines a century, I have a London Bridge to sell them. I give this sham of a marriage 10 years tops before William decides his princely seed needs to be deposited in another fair maiden and calls Hugh Grant for a couple phone numbers of some quality leg. Fuck it. Make it five years. He's young and horny. Kate will be lucky if Wild Bill ain't leg humping the mote operator the night of the wedding.
Jesus, I can't wait for this bullshit to be over.
But you know the Japanese are loving this shit up. Fuck four melting nuclear reactors and a tsunami. With this royal wedding going on and the way the US press has bent over to take it in the anus for them, we don't hear a fucking peep about them.
Natural disasters are no match for royalty -- at least not in the United States.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Taking back Gay
I'm taking back the word "Gay." I am rescuing this once-proud word from the stables of faggotry and bringing it out to the open again to take the place of the now maligned word "retarded." So, to be crystal clear here, Gay is the new Retarded.
So now, when somebody you know does something that's really retarded, you can say something like "Dude, seriously, that is really gay," and everybody will know you mean retarded, not homosexual. It's catching on pretty quickly, this new use for the word gay. All the coolest people are saying it.
What's happened to "retarded," you ask? It's being retired, like the word "nigger." You know how homeboys hanging around street corners call each other nigger this and nigger that and it's all good? Well, now mentally handicapped people can hang out on those same street corners and call each other retards and everybody will be cool with it. It won't be awkward at all. You can thank me later.
I can't wait for the first time I am at Ghetto Gas, filling up, buying a four-pack of the Bull and and a three-pack of Kools and some homey calls another a nigger at the counter. I will turn to them both and calmly say "gentlemen, please, such talk is totally gay." Fuck yeah!
Gay is the new retarded. Pass it on.
So now, when somebody you know does something that's really retarded, you can say something like "Dude, seriously, that is really gay," and everybody will know you mean retarded, not homosexual. It's catching on pretty quickly, this new use for the word gay. All the coolest people are saying it.
What's happened to "retarded," you ask? It's being retired, like the word "nigger." You know how homeboys hanging around street corners call each other nigger this and nigger that and it's all good? Well, now mentally handicapped people can hang out on those same street corners and call each other retards and everybody will be cool with it. It won't be awkward at all. You can thank me later.
I can't wait for the first time I am at Ghetto Gas, filling up, buying a four-pack of the Bull and and a three-pack of Kools and some homey calls another a nigger at the counter. I will turn to them both and calmly say "gentlemen, please, such talk is totally gay." Fuck yeah!
Gay is the new retarded. Pass it on.
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