Thursday, May 29, 2008

Paper clips ate jelly beans

What day is it?

Mondays off really fuck me.  Fridays are the best day off because you're already hung over and such from Thursday.  At first I'm like, fuck yeah, free Monday.  Then all of a sudden it's Thursday but I'll be damned if it really isn't Wednesday in some alternate universe and for what?  Labor day?  Is that what it was?  I wish I knew.

Anyway, one thing I wanted to say was this:  I FUCKING NEW IT AND I TRIED TO TELL YOU AND YOU SIMPLY WOULD NOT LISTEN.

Read it and weep, mom and dad:

For anyone who doesn't have the innernet access I'll print here the headline which will confirm my years of protesting against keeping any monkey alive:   Monkeys control robots with their minds.


The threat is real.

The threat is here and the threat is real.

The threat is hairy and it will throw orange wedges at you.

The threat stinks of humidity and urine, even.

As if robots weren't bad enough because they are bullet proof and can crush a man, now we see monkeys control them (like I long suspected).

Don't say I didn't warn you when the future is a mess of monkey shits and robots.  Robots making monkey noises and gamboling around on the ground while the monkeys control the air via vines like in that Indiana Jones movie where the young Turk confusingly swings through the trees (spoiler alert en reverse).

Don't say it.

Do not say it.  That I didn't warn you.

Just don't.

Because I did.

Also, I don't get to the news much but I guess that old Kennedy has a brain tumor?

Haven't I been saying that all along?  For years, really.  I hate to say I told you so but I guess I did.  Sorry for rubbing it in your face but sometimes we all need a little humility lesson and today is your day.

Really, I guess all democrats have brain tumors.  That's what I've been saying because you just look at all of the Mexicans coming over the border into the loving arms of California democrats and you say to yourself, you keep that brain tumor, Mr. California liberal.

On a final note, the sands of medicority have settled to the bottom.  There's a Starbucks in Lincoln, NE and now we know that the sands are all in place.  Don't get me wrong, I like a good coffee as much as the next guy.  But really, when it's in Lincoln, NE...when a trend reaches Lincoln then there really is nowhere to go from there because you're firmly in the silt. 

Your feet are firmly in the silt.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

All of everything cannot but should be safely ignored

The Hardy Boys were misunderstood geniuses.  Both of them.

Can you please explain to me how a group of time traveling aliens with hyper magnetic skeletal systems, long distance telepathy and their very own interdimensional flying saucer could let a fucking Mexican pry off one of their heads and run to Peru?

Spoiler alert.

The new Indiana Jones movie?  Instead of seeing it you should go around and suck derelict cock in the park.  You'll have a better time and you'll leave with a better taste in your mouth.

Know what else?

I go to CNN the other day and there's this article about how some robot space ship is sending pictures back from space or Mars and I'm a nerd so I eagerly click the link and I run for my light saber collection just in case I have to fight evil and what do I see?

Black and white pictures of Mars.

It could be my grandparent's vacation pictures from Bryce Canyon.

We can send a fucking space probe to Mars and we can't send a fucking color camera?  Who is the rocket scientist who schemed that deal? 

Color camera?  Mars?  It's all red, who needs a color camera!  LOL!

The Hardy Boys were misunderstood geniuses.  The negro one.  Dark and impervious to time and light.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Remember when I was sober? Neither do I.

Did you hear that the gays can marry again?

God damn liberal California.

I'm furious.

Look at how red my face is.

It's red with swollen fury.  It's like an engorged cock what's just about to spray semen somewhere (anywhere) but instead of semen my mouth is about to spray spit asking, "What the fuck is this gay situation in California, Arnold Schwarzenegger, you fucking liberal-in-the -great-coat-of-republican armor?"

Who elected those judges, anyway?

Be sure that I didn't vote for the bastards.  I am red with the red blood of republican right.  That's how red my blood is.  Red, the color of truth.  Truth is red and backed by violence and that's how furious I am.  The fury of the question, now the gays can marry again?

That's how furious and I might die from apoplexy which is not how I was planning on going out?

Where is George Bush?

Where is the militia?

Where is those guys what patrol the border and kill the Mexicans and keep them from getting our jobs?  The patriots.  The heroes? 

Why cannot they all set up a march and set up a giant wall to wall in the gays in the Frisco.  And while they're at it, why not wall in all of the Frisco and trap all the gay lovers and blue left wingers.  Blue blood from what lacks the red hemoglobes of righteous truth.  That's how blue they are.

We're laughing at your pale blue, libs.

So then someone just sent me an instant message and I was all, did you hear about the gays and they was all, yes, and the dykes (he spelled it dike but I'm pretty sure he meant the dykes).  I was not told that both can be married but now I'm filled with almost two x the fury but I'm not so furious about the dykes.  Not so much as two times but more like 48%.

It's the men what really rub it in our faces.  Rub their gays in our noses.  Oh, it makes my nose itch to sneeze out their gay fumes, I'll tell you.

Let me ask you a rhetorical question.

If you seen a dog in the street trying to give it to a coke can, would you kick them apart?

You're damn right you'd kick them apart.  It ain't natural for a dog to lie with a coke can.  It'd cut his corkscrew dong, then the vet bills?  Jesus.

Let's ask another to really drive the point home.

What if you was at the zoo and a condor swooped down and started really going on a gorilla such as you couldn't get in the cage to kick them apart.  Then let's say the condor busts out a cig and blows the smoke right in your face and says, "Me and me mate is gonna wed and there's not a thing you can do about it because we are in California."

Is that natural?

Is it natural for a condor and a gorilla?

Or for a condor to smoke?

It leads to sin, you see.

It all leads to sin.

Dear the gays,

Please stop blowing smoke in our faces.


Ho and everyone who digs a bit of cock suckie but boy on girl unless it's experimental and only temporary.

But I did see The Police and they was good, but everyone except me looked like a walking corpses.  Police fans, your days are numbered.



Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Other people's vacations sure do piss me off

Ah, mother's day, come and gone.  The day you do everything your wife tells you ... just like every other fucking day in the year except that on this day you buy her presents before she tells you what you are to do.

I found a picture of your boyfriend, you two are such a cute couple.  Here he is.  I think he's looking for you somewhere.

Here's a picture of his scrotes.  I know I said I wouldn't publish them on the innernet but they're just so adorable and you and me are so one of mind I was sure you didn't care:

Here's a picture of a tree:

And here's one in New Zealand where the Hobbit lives:

This is feet:

This is a real web site: --  I tried to do some coloring here but the colors black, brown and Mexican were missing.  So I drew a picture of me in heaven during a show storm.

This is how we do science if you know how to do it right.  Do it wrong and science will poke your face off.

Do you ever get busy?

Boy, I am.

I wish you could outsource things that you sure don't like to do like when the telemarketer calls and I know you can say, "put me on your do-not-call list" but I always am "Oh, 25%?  That's quite a deal."  "Uh, huh, well, I didn't really need a subscription to Guns and Ammo but if you put it that way..."

I wish I could trade things that I'm comfortable with to people who are comfortable with other things.  I could poop in the woods for you and you could talk to all of my telemarketers and tell them to put me on their do-not-call list.

That seems a fair trade.

Actually, I don't like to poop in the woods, so maybe you could just take care of the telemarketers and we'll call it even.

That makes sense, I guess.

Tomorrow let's talk about politics.