My maw is gaping from sleepy

Here are a few more birthday card ideas I have been thinking of.

For old people:

There are two kinds of people
the old
and the useful
happy birthday.

For Jews:

You killed Christ
yet you are celebrating a birthday.
Isn't that convenient.

For Mexicans:

Go back to Mexico and
stop stealing all my good jobs
and celebrate your birthday there

For White men:

Happy birthday.
Keep up the good work.

For Blacks:

Please don't shoot me.
You may have my wallet
on this special day
of yours.

For Puerto Ricans:

You're really a Mexican.
You're not fooling anyone.
Feliz Cumpleanos.
Mexican.

That's all I have to offer.

Capital or capitol?

I tell my dog every day, "You have nice teats, bitch."

And she does.

Firm, rubbery teats that roll under the fingers like a pink, rubber eraser. And not just 2. She has like...8 of them. They start at the upper chest and run down by where the pee comes out. The "pee hole." That's the medical term for it.

I tell her, "One day these teats of yours are going to land you a man. Then you won't have to work. Can just sit around on the couch watching Oprah and letting the man touch the teats once or twice a month. Lucky bitch."

Hivarious

I think whores would have a much better career if they would just send out those appointment reminder cards to all of their clients like the dentists do.

But then I thought to myself...I'll bet they've thought of this but they don't have the time to write up the proper format. Their expertise is in being a whore, not writing.

Since I've done a bit of writing...a bit here, a bit there...I thought I could document some kind of form letter that a whore could download from my site and use for free.

I do it out of love and admiration for whores, not because I enjoy doing things for people in general, understand.

Dear John,

I had a real nice time with you the other day/night. You looked very tone and also reminded me of Brad Pitt from that movie Fightclub.

I really liked the part where you:

( ) Let me suck you off.
( ) Hit it from the back like a madman.
( ) Put your penis where your wife never lets you.
( ) Rested your balls gently on my face.

I really appreciate the gift you left on the nightstand and I will be using it tonight to:

( ) Buy something nice.
( ) Buy milk for my baby.
( ) Buy crack.

I have a free hour or two and have tentatively penciled you in at __________________.

signed,

your devoted ______________.

At work they are making me work. A lot.

Well, I think I have figured out how you could tie down a zombie and have anal sex with them. You need like an ottoman and lots of strong rope. And some kind of arm binding device. And some kind of device to bind the legs and the torso.

I know what you're thinking. This sounds great but can I still get the aids from a zombie?

YES.

You can.

So you'd have to wear a condom.

So now you're thinking, Ho...why don't you just cure the aids?

And I'm thinking...I have to do everything? Who thought of how to have sex with a zombie? Me. The rest is up to you.

I bet they had fun on November 11th in the year 1111

I bought the internet last night at All A Dollar.

It was priced at ninety eight cents which confused me a little bit because it's supposed to be a dollah. Then they added tax which pushed it over a dollar and I became enraged and told them that I would not pay their fucking taxes (but in the end I did because I really wanted the internet).

Now that I have the internet I have a message for all of the people on my internet. Get out.

The free ride is over.

I crave bacon

I think a neat new monster would be a Hampire--a monster who's driven to eat ham or he'll die.

Then it would be cool if there grew up around the Hampire mythos a subculture of people who wear black and get fancy sharp ham-eaters and tell the other Hamites that they have to eat ham at least once a day or they'll die.

It would also be fun if there were Jewish and Muslim Hampires.

I can picture the Jewish Hampire telling his dad, "But I need the ham to survive!"

Then the dad tears his black coat like the dad in The Jazz Singer and says, "You're not my son, you're a monster!"

"You have no idea."

Then he goes and gets a big fat slab of ham.

Then I think of what the Muslims would do to a Hampire and they'd pretty much just shoot him. Or blow him up.

Muslim humor is kinda hard to understand sometimes.

Bucket of shit, bucket of spit

I wish I could find the guy that decided that everything needs to be half full and beat him to death with a bucket of positive thoughts.

I now can no longer say my drink is half-empty without ten million people lunging out to tell me that I'm a pessimist.

No shit?

I'm a pessimist?

Who knew.

The next person who corrects me when I say my glass is half empty I'm going to say to them, "Oh yeah? Well your mom is half-full. From my cock. Wait. I mean all full. All filled up. To the brim."

Shit.

I'm no good with insults.

All the gays peep through my windows

If I were a zombie I'd go out and get a dick pump machine and really get to pumping. I mean ... really pumping, you know?

I'd be one of the fast zombies, too. Those slow zombies would not get any suction at...all.

The fast zombies would vigorously pump and build up the pressure to make the zombie weenie ginormous!

Help me doctor for I have sinned

I'm writing this from the hospital, a pitocin drip in my arm.

I haven't pooped in nearly nine days (in spite of what I told you before).

The people are worried and tell me that it's breech but I suspect it is the twin of the flushee who has latched on to my colon with his strong choppers.

The talk is that they may have to do an assaerian and I guess that's fine. I just hope they use lotsa lube.

A Noun is a Person, Place or Thing

The three new best words are fun, funny and fancy. If something can be described as being fun, funny and fancy then it will be deemed to be one of the fine things in life. I have considered adding fantastic to the list but I fear things that come in fours. The udders of a cow are often grouped in four. I think that makes my point.

Also, I'm tired of how self-important verbs are. They are all, I'm a verb, look at how pretty I am, you don't have shit without me.

Fuck you, verbs. You're ugly. And fat. I wish you had anorexia.

I'm thinking about trying to get along without verbs. Maybe just use helping verbs (which are pretty friendly) and adverbs... which are verbs' ugly cousins. No one knows what an adverb is.

I'm also thinking about avoiding the plural possessive. It's so clingy.

And then the pooping comes

I've been having anal sex with my neighbor, a dentist.

I just gave birth to the tiniest baby with a full mouth of perfecty formed teeth in the toilet! I reached down to scoop out the little tyke when he bit me with those sharp dentures.

I quickly flushed him down the toilet.

I'll bet that's how God felt when he drowned the whole world.

You bite my finger I'll flush you down the toilet, suckah.

Watch college football and eat nachoes. Do it for me.

My boss could kill your boss with a blast of a nostril

I saw this bumper sticker the other day that said, My boss is a Jewish Carpenter and I thought to myself... I'll bet he doesn't pay shit. Those Jews are cheap. That's not stereotype, that's fact. I heard this one story about this one Jew that didn't pay his employees very much and I'm pretty sure that's true.

Here's a picture of the Jew boss. It's kinda sad what they did to him. Someone was probably mad about the low wages and stuff.



But then I started thinking...those poor, poor Hindus. They can't have clever bumper stickers. They would have to have like a million bumper stickers. My god is a blue six armed bitch who will fucking kill you. That doesn't fit well on the bumper. I guess it's good that they're all too poor to buy cars.

Then I started thinking of one for the Muslims: My boss pwnt your buildings. That's pretty neat. Muslims have the fanciest boss of all. He gives out the virgins like they're going out of style. I wonder what happens when the virginity is gone.

I'm eating hepatitis flavored popcorn. and your mom.

Some people think Satan is a Mexican but that idea is too silly to consider. Mexicans do not have the kind of requisite planning skills to pull off such a scale of evil. You want a car stolen? Get a Mexican. Garden tilled? Mexican. Large scale evil? That has white man written all over it.

This is self-evident you're saying to yourself.

I have proof that Satan is a Caucasian.

God created us in his own image and God is white. I have seen many pictures and he's always white. God also made the angels and they are white like him. Have you ever seen a Mexican cherub? No such thing! In fact...a little known truth about religion is that when you die you will turn white like God. In heaven all are white and pretty again.

Also, to the black boy at the malt shop...vampire like fingernails are certainly very classy at the dance clubs but in the food industry they make me think only of hepatitis. Blackula was cool, but he didn't have a day job. Trim the nails.

Just went to the store for some Preparation H

I want to get a job in the building that they're making in New York where those one two buildings used to be. The buildings that got smoked by Allah.

I will sit in my cube and once a week I will shout at my loudest timbre: BOOOM!

I think all the people would just get a fun kick out of that little joke.

Give until it hurts

Today is a fun day because it's Tuesday and in the bathroom when pooping I wiped and wiped until the blood came. That's how mom says it's done best. Till the blood comes, it's her patent phrase. Am I done, yet? Has the blood come?

And where goes the poop upon that bloody isle? Into the scabs to fill my body with poison? Yet I wash my hands. I always wash my hands for the poop shall not enter through the mouth, but always through the broken holes where the poop comes out.

Blah blah cave in Utah

I never understood the whole Grateful Dead phenom. The thought of free sex is appealing but then I think to myself, do I really want a stanky hippy snatch inches from my face? I mean, sure it's free and free has an appeal to it that itches in the right spot.

So there you are in your tent with your hippy hook up and it's cold and your hair has matted into some kind of hair sandwich and she says, "Have you met Tom? He has the best dope. I think I'm gonna go over to his Westphalia. Maybe ride to the next show with him. You don't mind, do you?"

No, I don't mind. That free sex has to come from somewhere.

Now you're hooked into the second best hippy snatch and Tom's off fucking your glory riding around in the fancy pop-up VW bug.

Then Tom goes on to make that myspace site and gets rich and ends up being my only friend.

Fuck you, Jerry Garcia. Fuck you, Tom.

Steadman is hot for Ho

In order to make you a better person I have read a new book and will present my findings in this open forum--that way you don't have to read it, you can just tell the people that you have read the book and repeat what I said about it. I am bringing value to your lives and it's all for free! I'm a giver.

I chose a book off of Oprah's list this time so that people can use books that are actually being read in polite convo. I chose the very famous and popular Kike Runner.

This book was very fun and funny. It was about a Jew boy who decided to run in a marathon. All of the other Jews were all, Jews don't exercise, Jew boy. Don't be a mitzvah.

But the Jew boy trained and trained like a schamiguluh.

The day of the race came and all of the Jews were there in their black hats and pointy beards and they actually cheered the Jew boy for trying something so unconventional.

The Jew boy actually died in the race from fatigue and all the other Jews shook their sad heads and said I told you so to his sad mom.

It was pretty good. Not enough sex and no pictures and it was longer than the preferred eight pages, but if it's good enough for Oprah it's good enough for you.

The fun of bleeding is in the clotting

What's the protocol for when you're behind a fat crippled retard in a wheelchair who's coming up on a door?

Are you supposed to run in front and quickly open the door for him to demonstrate how fun and fancy it is to have two nice, strong working legs?

Or do you sit back and smugly watch him use his stubby arms to try and hold the door open then maneuver his shiny rig through the shutting door--getting his chair wedged in there for a brief moment of hilarity?

Cause that's what I did.

She talks to weeds, she don't talk to me

I'm sorry for my brief hiatus. I think the Japs have finally caught up to me because I contracted the SARS. But enough of my poor health history, who cares about that. The thing for today is warning signs that you might be gay...or that your dad might be gay. Cause he is.

You tend to suck a lot of dick. Just once or twice can be written off to experimentation but consistent sucking is a sign.

You are a boy and your name is Jodi. All boys who are named Jodi are clearly homos. Don't try and get around it by saying, but my name is Jody. Still a homo, Jode.

You drive an SUV. Fags. All of them.

Your wife is in a persistently vegetative state and you don't regularly fuck her. This is also self-evident but there's a lot of retards out there who need to know this info.

One note about the persistently vegetative state wife...it has to be vaginally fucking. If you hit it in the ass every time... you're a homo.

All horse owners are fags--even if a horse was purchased for you and you intend to kill it. There was a scientific study about this one and also a fun video.

All of these apply only to men because women cannot be gay. When women are with other women that is sexual frolicking and they do it to stimulate the man's imagination.

Thanks, women. You do a lot for us.