Friend of the Neighborhood

Most of the people in my neighborhood (my hood) call me wigger because I listen to Eminem and have a wafro. I guess that's ok but the term wigger is a little harsh.

I think the next term to be born should be wegro. That's kind of like wigger but with some respect.. as if saying, sure..you have a wafro and like Eminem--two things I don't quite like or understand--but you're ok with me. That would really make me feel more accepted in my neighborhood..if everyone called me wegro.

I know what you're thinking; the next thing will be Wafrican American. Boy, I hope not. No offence but that's pretty long just to describe the guy in the neighborhood who likes rap. Plus I always wonder what to call white people from Africa who move to the Americas.

I worked with a woman from South Africa once. She was white, though. I told her that she was not allowed to be both African and white. I am afraid she never understood.

Remember Monica?



Worst intern ever.

Back in whore school there were many classes on the art of giving head. There were several and specific rules when blowing a president, the most important being swallow every drop.

That's presidential sperm, that's not five buck skank sperm, that's not married for ten year husband sperm, that's power sperm.

She should have lost her whore license. I'd lose mine if such an oversight happened.

When in doubt one rule to follow
When president head always swallow.

So simple. Am I right? Oh, there was another little rhyme too that applies to this case. Sometimes whores are kinda stupid and need rhymes to remember rules. Like me.

When semen stains your finest gown
wash your clothes you fucking clown.


Moon of Endor

If I were a scientest at the end of Return of the Jedi, I would be famous and much reviled for writing my doctoral thesis about how the Empire was right for the genocide on Jar Jar's race.

I would call it, When Bad People Kill for Good Reasons.

Everyone would be all...booo, you suck, Doctor Hate.

It would be a difficult time for me because I would just be pointing out the unpopular-obvious. Everyone would be anti Emire..what with it being evil and all. No one would even try to listen to my main point, that the Jar Jars sucked ass and deserved a good ass kicking.

The end of the famous paper would suggest that the Empire was brought down too early and that they should have killed all the fucking Ewoks, too. Creepy little monsters. Speak English like everyone else. Sure, they're cute until they cook you.

There would be death threats, but I'd never take off my Ewok skinned boots..and if someone threw paint on them, I'd go back to the moon where they live and kill eight more.

After every kill I'd shout out...my skin smeared with blood and Ewok flesh..."Take that, PETA."

Most college professors aren't violent. I would be.

Killer Kraft

Well, bad news. Yep. I was reading one of my daily reads... The American Family Association online edition on the world wide web when it came to my attention that the homos are ruining everything.

If you're like me, you're sick and tired of all the homos ruining everything. Well, sit back and get ready for this: they're at it again. And this time? They mean business...monkey business.

Now, before you think I'm a hater..please note that I don't consider women who have sex with other women to be homos. No. They are just a fun couple waiting for a man with a rock hard cock to join them. No, no...homos are men who dig men--in the bum.

Back to AFA online... apparently these homos have some kind of gay olympics. The worst thing? Kraft is a sponsor.

Hey, Kraft, let's pretend that we have a mac & cheese noodle; what you want me to do is take that noodle and stick it into the ass of another man? Well, this Ho will not do that, no. This ho is no ho mo.

The thing about homos is that they can be very sneaky..they are friendly and take good care of their yards and they will invite you to come over and have a beer, but they just want to turn you gay.

I kind of blame the women. If women would agree to anal sex more often the homo problem would disappear.

The thing that really bothers me? The assault to the American family that the homos bring. My neighbor... well, he may be trying to break up my family this weekend by seducing me to the homo side.

They just want to ruin everything for us heteros and the family.

My old scout leader was a homo. He was all, this is how you tie a square knot, and this is why you should all be gay like me. It was terrible.

Consider this a call to action. Call Kraft and tell them to put real cheese in Kraft singles.. I can't stand Kraft singles. Action item two...more anal sex so you're not tempted to be gay.

Have a nice weekend...oh, and if you live in the US...or some other place that has a 3 day weekend? Enjoy it.

hip-hop-Ho down at the station

If I had amnesia, I'm the kind of guy who would quickly masturbate to see if he had VD because really, you never know where you've been if you have amnesia.

Let me tell you, I have woken up with people after a nights drinking – memory totally gone with people who defied description. And when I say defied.. I mean they were the skankiest of whore.

I've been reading The Bourne Identity and it's pretty good, but I've been reading along just saying to myself, "No, no, no, no, NO!"

He's running around killing people and collecting cash and I'm just waiting for him to masturbate to check for pus. You know you have VD, my friend, if there’s pus in the Gus—that’s hip hop slang for semen, Gus is. I’m all about hip hop. They call me hip-hop-Ho down at the station. That pus looks nothing like semen, nor does it taste like semen. I've been told.

So what does Bourne do in lieu of "self-testing?" That's right. Unprotected sex. With a Canadian.

That's when it dawned on me. He's assassinating her.

Brilliant.

Well done, John Grisham. Another brilliant bit of skullduggery.

I'm betting he rips one out by the end of the book so he doesn't die of consumption. The good guy never dies.

Except in my book. They all die in my book. No, I made that up as kind of a teaser.

I love you, of course.

Dog Days in Hotown

Many of you know of The Wife. No, not my wife...yet. What many of you don't know about her is that she is a genius. She graduated number one out of a class of ten thousand when she attended Harvard. She did this while 1/2 stoned and all drunk for all four years.

When her profs called on her to answer questions she generally shot them the bird and grabbed her crotch. She gained a reputation for stabbing people who thought ill of her and for making love to people who really needed it.

She also loves animals and animals love her. And who else do her animals love? I wondered that myself. Today I found out who they love. They love Ho.

In this first picture I can see the puppy is really warming up to the idea of wearing a Ho t-shirt for the rest of the day...to the park or wherever they go.



Some would call it shame. I call it fear of greatness.

I think this next picture shows what doggie treats will do to the fear of being great:



Thank you, wife, for the glorious pics, I am edified and thrilled beyond these 10 million words.

Ho's Questionnaire

Ho has been asked to fill out a questionnaire. I love all things that bring me attention and being asked to fill out a book questionnaire that was tailor made and distinct for Ho...one never asked anyone else ever.. as if it were minted by the Franklin Mint.. well that's very much my style and something I can really get into.

Without further ado, the answers to the questions that have puzzled so many..but not Ho. Ho is puzzled by many things but not books. Books are for burning.

Total number of books I've owned:

Yes, yes, good question. This question wants to know how many books Ho has owned. Many would think millions..Ho is well read, they would argue..many would say zero..Ho is a vacuous fool with a hair trigger ejaculate organ and a vitriolic tongue that oozes vitamin c. The answer is exactly one.

I am the kind of guy who does not believe in having too many books around. I get a book, I read it cover to cover, then I burn it so no other can gain the knowledge that I have gained so that I can use it against them in a battle of wits.

Once again, the answer to this question: only one at any given time (You can think of this as like the Sith question--but with the answer being one, not two.)

What is the last book I bought?

Yes, yes, good question. The answer to this question is simple yet .. well, yes simple. Ho does not buy books, he steals them from libraries and children walking to and from school. But only one at a time. The last book I stole was from a 47 year old man wearing Bermuda shorts and socks to his knees. It was The Bourne Identity. I read 200 pages of it yesterday while sick in bed and so far, it's the best of vapid fiction. I hope to burn it by Saturday.

Last book I read?
I want to answer The Bible but we all know this is a lie. The truth is far more deceptive. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Good news, there was a garden of good and evil. I hate books that have titles that aren't in the books. If I get a book called Rock Hard Cocks I expect there to be at least two rock hard cocks.

5 books that mean something to me:

Ho has no interest in meaning, Ho has interest in titillation. Five books that titillated: Fear of Flying, Madame Bovary, Lolita, There's a Homo in my Pocket--Please Dig Him out with a Penknife, and finally... the book I've written that is providing rejection letters to paper a mansion.

Tag 5 people and request they fill this out on their journals

I will tag no one. This is hereby considered Ho's questionnaire and all others report up to me like in a pyramid scheme.

This was kind of verbose...I'm sorry.

Technology Tuesday

If I had a cell phone I would have one of those ringers that shouted, "GET OFF MY DICK, BITCH!" whenever I got a call.

When I answered it I would shush people, of course. I would look at them and say, "Can't you see I'm an important man?"

If they didn't shush I'd follow up with, "I'm a web diarist." then storm right out of there, never to return.

You don't fuck with web diarists. I learned that the hard way.

An Open Letter to Angelina Jolie

Dear Angelina,

You may officially consider our long distance relationship to be over. No longer will I think of you when I masturbate. I'm sorry.

I know this comes as difficult news to you. We had a good thing for a long time, but I feel I must end it.

You are probably wondering why it came to this. Why, Ho, why are you breaking it off when we had such a great thing?

Since you ask, I'll present the list that has been growing over the last several years of your "apparent instability."

1.) You have a tat with an ex-lover's name and you won't get it removed. This is terrible form in most cases but when you add to the fact that the name is Billy-Bob the bad form increases by a factor of 8.

1a.) Picture me hitting it from the back and then seeing Billy-Bob leering up at me..my concentration wanes and it turns into just another fight between us about you and your inability to be subtle about who you're banging.

2.) Tomb Raider 2. Not only was the first Tomb Raider terrible but there were no boobs visible ... at all. Not one boob. Why do you think I dragged my kids to see this terrible movie? Then you make a sequel. If I had to choose between watching Tomb Raider 2 and rubbing my rock hard cock with sandpaper..it would depend on the weight of the sandpaper.

3.) Brad Pitt. He's very sexy...don't get me wrong.. but fucking him is like fucking the population of China. It was the last straw. I'm sorry.

Thanks for the memories, AJ.. you were good. The best since the 19 year old Madonna, perhaps. But it had to end. Can't you see that?

Ode to the bird

I think it's quaint
how birds never
let me catch them.

Especially the grackle whose neck I would break every time.

Le Bow Wow

My black lab
so young and strong
he runs the neighborhood
a humping and a thumping
he is not neutered
no, not him
he brought me joy
until one day
it was him
taking the point
from another--
call oprah
my lab is on the down low.

Eureka!

For many years I have tried to figure out why Mrs. Ho and I only make sweet, sweet love once a week. Finally I have deduced the reason.

What most people don't know about Ho is that his semen is dense. When I say dense I mean it's a new element on the periodical table of .. elements. The scientists came for a sample once. I was all..if you dance slowly and take off that robe you might get a sample. No dice. They are reserving my atomic number until after I die.

When Ho makes love he ejaculates with a force that is immense. I have said that before, I just want to remind people. Ho's lovers have contended that being hit with a wad of semen from Ho is like being struck with a small bat, or a very small child falling from a tree, or like when someone hits you in the back when you're not expecting it. All in a good way, oh yes.

When Ho's semen enters the "womb" it expands and sticks. Ho's semen doesn't leave the regular way, no. Ho's semen has to evaporate over the course of a week or so. It binds to the living wall of the womb like sailors binding to whores in a whore house.

What does this have to do with weekly sex? Well...it doesn't. The thing is...Ho's semen is dense. So dense that I lose ten pounds every time I ejaculate. The problem? My wife gains ten pounds. Every time we make sweet, sweet love she gains ten pounds for several days.

This is my problem and I see no solution...do you?

Armagedon...or is it?

I think that what people don't understand right about now is that it would be the perfect time for a troll and orc attack on the city of Las Vegas..plus a team-up with the undead.

Some people laugh at me when I tell them about this but it's something that I really think should be taken seriously. Why the zombie/orc army now on vegas?

Two words: E 3.

All of the comic book and d&d nerds are all packed into convention centers and none of them have their bastards swords. There are no vorpal blades, no Bow of Elven Fury + 4, no real replicas of Sting or Glamdring, no plate mail, no chain mail..I mean the best that they're going to be able to scrounge up is maybe some studded leather.

And we all know that studded leather is really only good for rogues. Will that help the barbarians? Will that help the Paladins? The clerics? The magicians? Ha! Fooled you there. Magicians can't wear armor.

So you might want to either avoid Vegas for awhile...or hurry and drive some heavy chain mail down through Utah in case the trolls come.

A stork in the air

Good news, everyone...IndyGirl is prego. Whose baby is it, you're probably wondering. Is it your baby, Ho? I wish. Let me tell you I've spent many a night imagining how hot Indy could be and let me tell you, she could be very hot...but...no. Not my baby.

Whose baby? My bet is that the father is AB. He's known to be the father to hundreds, nay millions. He gets around. His wife will sure be surprised.

Another mouth to feed in India. Oh, well.

One more thing..Indy needs help naming the baby..please suggest some things.

Oh, and don't tell her you heard it here, it may still be a secret.

Strap ons..now for men!

If I were a black man I would not be the kind of black man who sent his wife to buy the strap-on that was going to be going into my ass. No. I would be the kind of black man who went in to buy his own damn strap-on.

I'm not sur what kind I would get, I suppose the choices are vast. Probably there is a bumpy model and most likely a 12 inch dong. I suppose I would get the kind that vibrated and also let out a giant screech at the point of penetration.

Which leads me to my thought...is it me or am I the only guy out there who doesn't want his wife or girlfriend to be jamming a rubber dong into my ass? I don't mean to be critical of other racial values but jesus..at the point where you decide you want your girlfriend to jam you with latex..you've entered a deeper layer of freek.

Remember when gay meant happy? Neither do I.

If I were gay I would create the ultimate T-Shirt; it would read: Gay in all the RIGHT ways.

I would wear it to every event I attended and I would go to many, many events. The first thing I would do would be to start a crusade against the liberal media. You would see me, monkey wrench in hand, blood dripping down my fingers while I blugeoned Dan Rather down to the ground like a dog.

He would be shouting, "But I'm no longer a member of the liberal media," but I wouldn't care. I'm not one for technicalities. The shirt would get covered in blood but I would quickly get some soda water on it. Soda water does wonders.

After my victory against the liberal media I would take on the environmentalists. My boot would be covered in the feces of all of the pussies whose ass I personally kicked. My shit stained boots would surely go on display at the Smithsonian, probably next to the lunar stuff they have there--or their butterflies, or whatever--it doesn't really matter.

Finally, to prove my dedication I would stand on church corners on Sundays and drag people in to worship. I would shout at them, "You don't worship now? You see this boot? You see that brown on there? That's poop, my friend. Human poop. Poop of the Levites. Are you a Levite? I didn't think so. Now get in there and tithe like you mean it."

After it all I think I would hook up with Falwell at his alien sex camp and we'd swap stories. He'd give me his well-worn bible and I'd give him my well-worn t-shirt.

Fab Fivery

If I were a member of the fab five I would be the one that refused to acknowledge that he was gay. I would tell people that all of my male friends were merely close friends and that we were not having anal sex, nor was I sucking any dick. I would not, however, state that my dick was not being sucked..no, I have limits.

I would also carry around a chopstick on the show..if the guy we were making over tried to hug me I would poke him very hard in the chest with the narrow end of the chopstick. I would utter this phrase to accent the poke, "You won't turn this boy gay, Chachi. Not today."

I would then get in a fight with the hair guy. He thinks he's so cool, but he's not.

At the end of the show..when the other four were drinking cosmos I'd have a bottle of bourbon and I would pee in the sink. I think that would prove my point.

A Ho Humility - As if such a thing existed

A few things I'd like to say about this picture...the first is that Cindy-Lou is hot.

Secondarily..those are my feet and I just want everyone to know that the size of a man's penis is inversely proportional to the size of .. his shoes.

Name change in store?

If I turned all the way gay I'd certainly change my name to Blog Homo.

Easter with Ho

If I were Catholic I would not eat pussy on Fridays. Only fish. On Friday's I'd just fuck men in the ass.

Tender Consolation

If I were consoling a crying girl on my lap I would not poke her in the head with an errect penis..at first. Some forces cannot be constrained.

Zombies...Take Two

If I were in the time of zombies the first thing I would do would go and get a new car from the deserted car lot. And by "first thing" I mean first thing after getting guns, of course. Don't be stupid that you'd get the car first. If you believed that I'd get the car first, you'd be dead from zombie teeth marks in your brain.

I would head straight to the Toyota lot and get a Prius because even though the end of the world is near, Ho knows that fossil fuels are not going to last forever and really, have you seen the gas mileage the Prius gets? Sweet Jesus it goes and goes.

Then I'd certainly rip out all of those fucking batteries and replace them with a secondary engine because zombies can run when brain is on the menu.

The secondary engine would be big..like a thousand pounds or something. I don't know much about cars but I know a lot about weight and the more it weighs the bigger it is. Based on that logic a thousand pound engine would just go, baby..go.

Next, when I saw a zombie eyeing my new Prius and thinking, "Heh. Prius. I can outrun that." I would put the pedal to the metal and sing out, "It's hammer time, zombie!" and off I'd go like a fucking horse down a ... well, I guess down a pasture. I don't know about horses either, but they can really run fast when they have to, much like a zombie. Perhaps they're related.

Secondarily, in zombie world I may legally change my name to MC Hammer so that when I yelled to the zombies, "I'm MC Hammer, bitches!" it would carry some cachet.

Kool Filter Kings

If I smoked I would use my powers for good instead of evil.

I would befriend all of the evil despots in the world and then get them hooked on cigarettes.

By hooking them on the smokes I would shave some five minutes per cigarette off of their lives--that could amount to maybe two or three years of an early death. That's akin to assassinating them three years before they should really die.

I would start with Fidel Castro..who lives in Cuba, apparently--he's pretty old, but I might be able to get a few weeks from his life.

I would tell him that all the kids in the US were smoking and I'd teach him to smoke..to pull the smoke into your lungs and just kinda hold it there till you feel calm and good, then to let it slowly blow out with a calm..ahhhhh.

If he refused I'd sit around and blow smoke rings. Who can resist smoke rings?

If that failed I'd tear off my shirt and show him my ripped abdomen and giant pecs. I'd flex my pecs so he saw how strong smokers were.

I'd also have to cut those little warning labels off of the boxes..that would be a dead giveaway that I was trying to kill them.

After Castro I'd move on to the next despot. I'm not sure of any more despots, but there's probly one around. Is Pol Pot still alive?

Don't leave your bed without your gun

If zombies started taking over the world I would be the kind of guy who stood behind the door hiding from them.

I'd have my gun in my sweaty palm, hand on the hilt, trigger pulled back ready to fire.

I'd hear them coming down the hall in that loping shuffle or that mad dash. When they got close enough I would jump out screaming madly...

They would see me and start coming over..which is my plan. I'd pump and pump the shaft urging the ammo out of the casing as the zombies get closer and closer.

Pump, pump, pump-pump-pump...

BLAM!

BLAM!

BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!

I'd spray semen all over the first three or four zombies as my penis errupted into their ranks. Zombies hate this but it causes no real damage.

This is how I'd like to go out if zombies started taking over because..let's face it..the zombies always win.

Ho's R Us

If I had an adoption agency I would pretty much deal in retard babies. I think that's probably a niche that hasn't been filled.

I guess I'd call it "Retard Babies For Cheap" or maybe "Hey..Retards..Half Price." I'm not much into slick or clever names but I'm totally into cheap retard babies.

I think I would build a closet in my office and hide in there with the baby, then when the parents came in to get their baby I'd jump out with a healthy baby and shout, "Surprise! I have a healthy baby for you!"

I think parents would really like that. I'll bet they'd really giggle when the shock of being scared wore off. But they'd have to pay a lot more for a healthy baby. Babies aren't cheap.

And i think jumping out in a clown outfit would add a nice touch. Like a doctor clown. Or a Jesus clown..and maybe shout, "Look, the Jesus clown made your retard whole again."

To the store with you

Today I ventured out to the grocery store with my son. The list was modest: apples, meat and coffee. Oh, and half and half. I take cream with my coffee--some call it gay, I call it fabulous.

So I walk in and I see this sweet cart. It's smaller than the other carts and I think to myself..perfect, a small, sweet cart. So I grabbed the small cart and started down the aisles.

Before I could take eight steps I see a hot chick kind of checking me out. I pivot to give her a glace at my ass and then pivot back to see her reaction. It was then that I noticed she was thinking not that I have rock hard abs but something to the tune of, "Oh, how cute. A weekend dad taking his son shopping."

I was incensed. I am no weekend dad. I immediately thought back, "Hey, nice ankle tat--that shining sun is very original. I'm sure it was classy when you were sixteen."

Weekend dad.

I yelled at my son a bit to prove my point.

"Fuji apples, FUJI APPLES, not gala. Jesus, how many times do I have to tell you?"

"Not less than 93% fat ground beef. You got chuck? What the fuck is chuck?"

I'm about to further savage the woman when I notice her hat. Nothing remarkable but it was covering a bald head. Then I felt bad. Cancer. I was ripping into a cancer patient. Ugh. Yelling at my son and being mentally cruel to sickies.

Then I noticed her other tat..the Venus symbol. Not a cancer patient..a lesbian. That accounts for the crew cut and her not checking out my ass. Women are so sneaky.

I was about to apologize to my son for yelling at him but then he said to me, "That's a kid cart you grabbed."

"I know," I replied.

"I wonder if my real dad was cool," he said.

"Cool, but not fast."

Then we got some ice cream.

Cuisine Ho

Well, I'm having people over for dinner. Old friends from college. Haven't seen them in years. Vegetarians, apparently.

I have a dilema.

I was grating cheese into my lasagne when I grated about six inches of skin into the mix as well as the cheese.

Blood poured from the gash in my nuckles and I grated three more times after that on account of the drinking.

Good news..lasagne sauce is red--I guess from the tomatoes..but what do I know.

I was able to stop the bleeding but a lot of skin and bits of flesh and blood got into the food.

I baked it at 350 for 45 minutes and it turned out delish.

Now then, the dilema. Do I tell my vegetarian guests that they're eating of my flesh?

I also may have gotten some ejaculate into it. Is that considered meat? Mine gets pretty chunky.

A list of 5 things.

I have been invited to tell you what I would do should I have the opportunity to do five different jobs.

One job seems enough for me, but as I am a kind and good member of this community I shall submit to the request.

In no particular order..my five jobs.

nanny-in this job i would surely go to jail. i don't like children and i really don't like other people's children. i do like shaking things, though.

psychic-I would get in touch with people's loved ones and tell them the exact opposite of what they told me. this would infuriate the dead and i would end up shitting on many graves in the dead of night. they hate that.

linguist-i would lick everything.

lawyer-i would establish a clientele, hire some minions, make them do the work for me and spend the rest of my days stacking blocks into neat patterns.

innkeeper-i would run an inn. i know it's boring but i think i could be good at this job.

A blessing on your house Mozzletof, Mozzletof

I'm sorry to innundate everyone with post after post but this was really important.

Apparently I'm under consideration to be one of George Bush's Points of Light. A really great honor.

I guess word got out that I'm trying to bring together Christians and Jews.

It started last December when I started really worrying about how Jews probably felt bad about not celebrating Christmas..and Christians felt bad about not knowing how to greet a Jew during the holiday time.

As you may or may not recall the solution was very simple. Merry Christmas, Jew. Say that to everyone and all the bases are covered.

Well..in a fine continuation of that tradition and a further boost to my point of light status I have come up with a new one to bring together the Jews and the Mexicans: Happy Cinco de Mayo, Jew.

I think if we can just follow that simple protocol then the Jews and Mexicans can finally live in harmony.

Failing that..Stinko de Mayo. If you don't like Jews or Mexicans..try Stinko de Mayo. But don't tell the Points of Light Foundation that I told you that.

I love you for your patience. Sorry again to post six times in one day.

8o8

I normally keep all of the good things for myself.

I hate to share attention.

When I first started on a campaign to have 8zero8 fired I had no idea it would work. My goal was to get him off the blogging circuit so that there would be only me. First that cunt...what was his name? Junker. Then others and others and others...

It's no secret that I consider myself like one of those...Highlanders. Well..8o8 is also a highlander..though he's the kind of highlander who is out of a job.

I wouldn't normally send you to his site..but his wife begged me to send you there. And to contribute to their well-being. As I have contributed. I sent them my 3rd best dining room table and also my lead pocket watch.

If you have a heart..by some Ho Ware. Or go to that cunt 8o8's site and help him out. He probly needs it more... at least he says so.

Book Update

Many of you know that I have written my first novel. Yes, that is an established fact. What you don't know is that last night I rewrote it into a musical.

The book was a quirky little story about a white man (Ho) who drinks his way from bar to bar in the Midwest. It's now about a Japanese man named Hap who has to work in a Kansas slaughter house to make ends meet. It's also a musical.

The original was about 60k words long, but I've had a hard time coming up with good rhymes so the new musical is only about 2 pages...so far.

I haven't written the score but I have in my mind very intense opera music. If you sing this really loud...REAL LOUD...it sounds a lot better. If you don't it still kinda sucks. I try to use that one Queen song...got a moosh, got a moosh will you do the fandango..blah blah blah blah..etc. very very frightening me. Gallieleo..repeat until Gay.

Hello my name is Hap and I need a job

Hap..dun, dun, dun...Hap..dun, dun, dun
what kind of name is Hap for a Jap?

Jap is offensive! Jap is offensive!
I am Hap and Jap is offensive!

Ok, I'm sorry. Jesus, back off Jap.
You're very sexy for a Male Japanese man.
I will hire you for the brain crew
even though you're not a Jew.

I'm a Jap, not a Jew
Do I have to be a Jew?
Do I do i do i do?

Most of them are Jews
on the brain crews.

I guess I'll take the work
i'm a Jap not a jerk

I'm ass deep in cow blood
Cow blood, cow blood
I'm ass deep in cow blood
I have brain on my sleeve.
Brain on my sleeve!
Oh, shit, I think..
I have ...
Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy!
Rhyme that I dare you..my friend Halopahy!

Grenayda, Grenahda

I've been trying to start a war between the Faulkland Islands and England again.

I haven't been as successful, this go round. Last time all it took was the offhand comment..in my best English accent, "Yes, nice little group of islands..nothing like England, of course. No, nothing at all like England. Not nearly as good, in fact. In fact, shitty little island, isn't it."

That's all it took. Falkland declared war on England and then England kicked their asses. It was fun to watch from afar..but I felt kind of bad for the Falklanders.

My first attempt at starting the war was to don my accent and say, "Darwin didn't even stop in the Faulklands. In fact, he leaned over the edge and shit in the water when he sailed by. He was constipated and they had to drop anchor and wait for three days. For three fucking days he was hunched over the side of the boat..straining to push out the smallest poop. When it finally fell in the water, he fell down--exhausted. Then he went down to his cabin and wrote his theory of evolution. He also had a batch of roids from the strain..a rectal island chain he named..Faulklands."

Then I'd add...Tut, tut.

That had zero effect. I think it was too long, so I shortened my next ones:

"England hates God."

"Soccer is a girl's game."

"Llorona was a real cunt."

Nothing.

I was growing irritated.

"Guess what. This little island has no stragic value. England hates Mexicans."

Again, nothing. Sadly, there was no war that weekend. They wouldn't bite.

As a side note, Ho knows that not every Spanish speaking person in the world is Mexican..not necessarily. Ho knows, but England doesn't.

Secondly...this is more of an FYI. Not every Asian is Chinese. Confusing, I know. I guess there are some smaller countries..over there.

Double E Double E Double R, R, R

The first graders at my son's school are putting on a presentation of Charlotte's web. Like Charlotte's web is a play. Stupid little fuckers. I want to tell them, "Hey, shitbird...it's a novel not a play."

So I got to see an advanced screening of it. The spider was laughable. I wanted to shout out, "Hey, who did the props, the retard class?" In fact, I did yell that.

That spider was so nice to that pig. That's what got me started thinking, I guess. If I were that spider I'd do different messages. I've made a short list.

1.) Pigs are food.
2.) Hey farmer, everyone thinks you're a fag because you're too afraid to kill the runt pig. Who runs your house, your daughter? (This one would take a lot of weaving but it's pretty worth it.)
3.) The Jews are laughing at you. So are the Hindus. (I'm not sure what this means, but I'm betting that farmer won't either..that's where the craftieness lies. craftyness.)
4.) I've been fucking your slut wife. We all have. Animal Farm was about a whore house and your wife is the whore.
5.) Remember bacon?
6.) Remember that drop of water you felt a few days ago? That was spider semen. Not water.

Then, just before I died for the season I'd write, Farmer, just kidding about all those things..except the semen..I can't take that back.

My concentration was broken by people clapping. I clapped. My heart wasn't really into it. I kinda wanted to crush that kid dressed as a spider, but I didn't. Went to work, instead.

Help me Obi Wan Kenobi..you're my only hope

When Star Wars came out in the late 70s we always played guys with the neighborhood friends. Most wanted to be Luke or Han, never Darth Vader. Never Evil. For my part I wanted to be Leia.

I wanted to be a good guy but I also liked wearing women's clothes. That's not gay. There's science behind that. Rock hard science.

I always teamed up with Luke and we would have sex. Also not gay. That's role playing. I played like I was in love with Arthur Stevens (who played Luke).

Arthur and I always teamed up on Darth, Luke with his light saber and me standing back in my white robe--breasts pushing against the wet robe--robe wet from narrowly escaping the trash compactor on the prison level.. firing my blaster pistol at storm troopers. I had to use a robe instead of a dress because that's all I had back then.

I became famous for being Leia, people would point at me and proudly say, "Look, there's Leia. Where's Luke, Leia?"

I'd just flash them a little breast and offer a wry smile of being accepted in a community of caring people.

We were neighborhood celebreties until that final movie. Movie six. The one where Luke and Leia turn out to be brother and sister? People turned on us then. It's one thing to be the cute boy in a robe..quite another to be pretending to screw your brother, even if he is a Jedi.

Hey, there are those sick cunts Luke and Leia.

Hey, Leia..how is it fucking your brother?

Things like that.

I guess I'm telling you this so that you can warn your kids..don't be queen Amidala. She might end up nailing her brother and then there will be teasing.