Monday, September 29, 2008

Snorting wood putty

Hi, this is a picture of me at the innernets I found.  I was at blizzcon which is a festival for nerds who dress up like not nerds but that makes it omg so much worst.

There are some girls there but they're paid to go.  Kinda like prostitutes but not paid as much plus no semen in the mouth, so in a way it's better.

In a way.

Anyway, here's my picture.

Wait, that's a picture of Jenna Jameson before she became omgwtf ugly.  I'd still have sex with her but it would be an anxious sex borne out of a duty to the past.  All of the undead sperms spilled in her honor on all of the discarded socks and bedspreads in all of the hotels of the world (the same ones you cover yourself in when you travel and I been there first).

Here is the picture of me, I had it framed in infamy on the nets.

Your dad and boyfriend came with me.  Your boyfriend looks rill good in pink.

One bad term I seen lately is torsion of the testicle.  That means that one or two of your nuts is all twisted and can't breath.  You get it from being married, so be careful.  I think I got it.  I'm not sure how you get it but I hear it's bad when you do.  Avoid it if you can.  (Marriage, that is).  (I know, too late).

Here's a picture of boys who play girls on the innernets.  They can be found on the WoW and also anywhere you find someone saying, "LOL, I'm totally a girl, look at my big titties and I have no body fat but I'm not so skinny as that ashley girl what pukes up dinners and such" and then they link you to some hot girl.  Anyway, here they are.

Here's a picture of Mccawleny Culkin with a young girl in purple panties.  I suspect she's at least 18, though.

Here's a picture of geeks out of costume:

Thank god I'm not a geek.  I'd probly sit around playing warcraft all day and start an online blog.

I bet priests get real happy when young ones die.  Like women with kids and such.  Young kids.  Anyone, really, because that's why they have jobs to send people off to heaven and such, but I bet they get so bored when the old ones die and they sit up there and he had such a good life, and the war he fought in and his grandkids, god he loved his grandkids and long good life and god the grandkids.

That must be stultifying.

I bet when the young ones die, they find a challenge and get to say new things, surrounded by family in their hour of need, carry on witht he help and support of the lord and the church, struggles in life, god's way, etc.

Plus I bet young funerals draw a bigger crowd and who doesn't want to be listened to.  When the olds die, who knows them but other dead old people?  There should be a service to hire pall bearers such that you paid 6 strong men to carry your corpse around and cry.

Plus what is it with Catholics standing and kneeling and sitting?  Pick a position and stick to it, man.  (That's what I yell out in sex whenever I have it (right, a phrase not oft uttered from my tongue)).

Anyway, happy Monday and such.  I hope you don't die, today.  Unless you're osama bin laden.

Oh, know what else?

I'm celebrating Ramadong.  It's like Ramadan, but my dong is out of my fly as much as possible.

Take that, b'laden.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

This is today

I done some innernet searching, looking for pictures of myself and I seen some things.  Some are inneresting, some are not (to you). 

Here's  picture of Melinda Gates that someone drew.  I'm not sure what to add more than it's a real picture that someone really drew.  Maybe at a retard convention for IT professionals who support retards with advanced technology.  Maybe not.

Here's a picture of your so-called boyfriend:

This is when we elope (I'm the strong one):

Here's a picture of your mom and dad (your bio dad, not the one you call dad) on the night you was conceived (your girly dad is on top):

This is bears:

This is the dark flow of the universe through the eyes of anime:

This is me taking a nap:

Not sure what these are, but I liked them: and I think the last one is about outsourcing wood but I'm not sure.

I will track you down and make you love me or it will be the death of you

I read this in the news, today:  Patches of matter in the universe seem to be moving at very high speeds and in a uniform direction that can't be explained by any of the known gravitational forces in the observable universe. Astronomers are calling the phenomenon "dark flow."

Apparently the universe is menstruating and not only menstruating but the flow is abnormal.

It's the universe
that has a dark, heavy flow
and we are tampons

Also this:  The 29-year-old former "American Idol" runner-up, multiplatinum recording artist and Broadway star credits his son, conceived by in-vitro fertilization with friend and producer Jaymes Foster, with making him realize that he could no longer hide his homosexuality from the world.

Hide...from the world?

No, no, my friend.

The world knew.

The world certainly knew.  We (speaking for the world (but not the muslims because they're crazy and will cut your gay throat) (also will some Catholics but not the priests, thank god)) were worried it was you want didn't know you was gay.

We knew all along.

Now you may start legitimates with the Clay Gayken or the Gay Aiken, but please no Gay Gayken, that's too much.

Plus, know what else?  He's a born again xian.  I seen that in the magazines articles.  And he's worried about that he'll be judged from the in veetros.

It's a good thing the born agains never have problems with the gays, otherwise he'd be in a heap of trouble.

Shit, can you believe it's already tomorrow?

Monday, September 22, 2008

Hadron, not Hardon. Remember it.

On 9/11 the CERN hadron superconductor had a break down that put it out of commission for months.  Maybe 2 months and that's why the world hasn't ended. 

I think that we can look at the date 9/11 and safely assume that the spirits of the freedom fighters from the 9/11 towers of freedom intervened on our behaves (we of the United States of America and the rest of the world can thank us that our spirits are also fighting for your safety, yes even Canada).

I believe the Holy Ghost rallied the undead spirits of the dead to derail the little particles as they zoomed along.  The Holy Ghost has power over all of the dead, that's why he's called the Holy Ghost.  Especially if they die in service to our country--that's extra holy.

Plus, why do doctors always come see you at 5 AM in the very morning every day after a surgery and you're in the hospital?  "How you feeling?" 

"It's five in the morning, how do you think I'm feeling.  Like shit.  Come back at noon."


It's not rocket science?

Only those aggressively successful people feel good at 5 AM and really, fuck them.  Let the passive lazy people get some wins every once in awhile?  Come by later and if I'm awake (and don't wake me if I'm not) then I'll tell you how I'm feeling.

After all, doctors, I am paying you.  You don't pay me.  Maybe if you gave me some free blood or something I wouldn't mind so much.


K, back.

This just happened, I was getting in the bath and it was a hot bath as I prefer and I was going to wash everyone's AIDS off of me when i noticed there was a big, fat spider sitting on the edge and it was surely contemplating suicide.

I took the spider aside and I said, no, no, you have so much to live for, all the egg sack babies and plus you're good at killing mosquitoes, my priest tells me that about you little guys and probably lots of other things... scaring kids, and well, lots of things.

And I could see I was reaching him because the little guy was backing away from the edge and I could see a sense of pride in his gait and that's when I squished him.

To kill something that lacks hope and purpose is one of the smallest acts of a small mind.

Like mine.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Sara Palin has bad dnas (retard babies)

I want to go back in time and kill Michael Palin before he's born or before he becomes newsworthy.  He's really fucking up my search to find nudes of Sarah Palin on the googles.  Every time I see some skin it's his skin and he's treking around the world like I could give a shit.  Maybe if he stayed around America and Omaha I'd watch that show but I don't want to see no brit going around the fucking Middle East eating falafals.  If I want to see that I'll read the fucking bible.  (I have it memorized at least the good parts (the new testes)).

Cause really, fuck the old testes.  That's just dead jew stories.

Also, what the hell with clamato?  What is it?  I mean I understand it's clam juice in tomatoes, but dear god, why?  Did we just have so much clam juice laying around?  Even so, who said, "this is a good idea, we take the clam juice...clam juice?  where does that even come from?  juicy clams?...we take the clam juice and we pour it in the tomatoes and we sell it as a nifty combo of clam juice and tomato juice."

They they all nodded their heads.

Plus it just tastes like tomato juice.  Or maybe V8.  I don't taste no clam juice.  At all.  Plus I bet clam juice tastes like shit.  I'll bet a million on that one.

Can you imagine a beer bong but with clam juice?

I can too.

I'll bet the room would smell of clams and vomit.

I'll bet the chicks would flock to a clam juice bong party.  Especially the real skinny ones who no matter how little they eat can't feel good about how skinny they are.  And the goth chicks with pierced nips and a hunger for self-destruction.

God I miss my youth.

Might as well make pussy juice tomato juice.  Plamato.  It'd still taste like V8 but maybe you'd have pubes in it.  Like they'd get stuck in your teefs and when you smiled all your friends would know that you've been drinking Plamato and beer because the last time you had your face that close to real pubes was maybe six years ago when you were richer and drinking less.

I wish I was a heroin addict instead of all the booze.  People would say, "there, there, leave him be, can't you see he has a rig in his arm and a drug problem?"

Now they just say, get up and go to work.

They don't even care that I have a hangover and that I'm going for a world records in consecutive hangovers and I appear to be winning that record but there's still a lot of work left to do.

Also, I'd like to plum my toilet with hot water and I don't mean just pure hot but warm water but I'm not good with tools.

I think of the poops coming out and splosh and I get kind of sad.  I bet it's a bit of a shock going from a nice warm body and then into the cold sploch of the stool.  I would hate that.

The poops do such a good service you should let them ease out and let them get used to the new environment gradually.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Lifting weights on Friday is for suckers

So we live another day.

I suppose that's good news.

Good enough.

I would have told everyone we was all still alive yesterday but I got drunk and called in sick.  I didn't want to waste my sick days on oblivion nor the doomsday.

Joke was on me, my friends.

I suppose that's good news.

I was reading that the CERN had done just some tests and that they was rill gonna go hard at another test later down the road.  Like tomorrow or next week.

Apparently they went with the counterclockwise smashing and that at some later date?

That's right.

Clockwise smashing.

If you think about it, that's moving from talking to a left handed retard about particle physics to talking to a right handed pinch hitter about spit balls.

Bit step up in the leagues, my friends.  Big step up.

I think the not ending of the world put me in a mood.  Or it's this weather.  It feels like the middle of August.  It's steamy and sultry and there isn't anyone even around to have sex with.  It's like a sex murder mystery movie without the sex or the murder or the mystery.  Like a real boring sex murder mystery.  I'm not even sure if I should turn on the air or the heat.  It's not hot enough to have the air but it's so humid.  I could turn the heat on but I'm sure that would kill me.  A bad mixture of humidity and excess heat with a dubious lack of sex and murder.

Happy nine eleven.

How many years do you have to put the flag and half staff after this sort of thing?  Do they still do it for pearl harbor?  Will there ever be a day in the future where the flag never goes full on head steam because of terrible tragedies?

I hate the flag at half staff, I always wonder and worry.

What has happened that makes us do this half staff thing?

I'll be the al queidas sit around and say this quite often, "Remember back when we blew up those building?"

"LOL.  That was fun."


"Real fun."

"I know."

"We should do that again."

"I know."

Then they clean the cave or whatever it is they do.

Maybe pray.  They pray a lot.  Nine times a day, I hear.

Maybe CERN isn't doing anything.  Maybe they got a finance to do 3 years of digging a hole in the dirt with fancy circuits and wires.  Maybe they bought everything and installed the circuits and dug the holes and then took the rest of the money and spent it on scientific bjs and pop tarts and snack cakes.

It's what I'd do.

Then they tell everyone, "We smashed some adams, today.  Counterclockwise.  Went real good.  I think the big bang is just about right.  A few more tests and we might find the left hand of Jesus down there in that big hole."

"Tomorrow we're gonna reverse the polarity.  I don't think it will blow up the world but science can't prove that to 100%.  We could do this shit for ten years."

CERN is a French word.  Not sure what it means but it's in the news.

Plus that cripple scientist says it won't cause the doomsday.

But if I was a cripple since 22 I'd say that too.  Nothing to worry about here.  All the while I'm praying for doomsday because I have a robot voice and I have to beg for sex in a awful robot voice.

He has a hundred dollar bet.  Well it's probly pounds.  But I call them dollars because fuck England.

Know what else?

What's blue ray?  And why do I give a shit about it.  Will it make my dick harder?  No, it will not.

Fuck blue ray.

Fuck CERN.

One good thing, though, is sausages.

Eat em.

Tuesday, September 09, 2008

Not shaving my balls, after alls

I think I just may have saved us all.  No need to kill ourselves while we wait for sudden death because I have come up with a formula that will thwart the doomsday device that CERN done.

Quick, someone get Spenser on the horn.  It's about time he done something to make up to what he done to us via Heidi Montag.

Have him get with CERN and tell them to put this in their formulaes:

e=mc^2^n where n is some quanta value of faith plus medicine plus magic, some secret constant which I will reveal here to you to be 8.

Oh, thank god I figured that out, I was getting downright morose.

Plus someone sent me the worst email ever.  Some kind of evil email.  Evail.  I wish I could forward it to you.

Maybe I'll shave my balls

Dear everybody who didn't send me anything for my birthday thank you for fucking that up so bad.

We went on without you but it sure would have been nice to have got some good things from you.

In a way I'm kind of glad you're going to die tomorrow in the black hole.

I'm not bitter but I just think you should treat your friends better and if it takes your death to teach you that lesson then I guess you kind of deserve it for being ugly and selfish.

I wasn't going to write anymore what with the end of the world so soon and all but then I figured, why not.  Might as well clog up the ether with a bit more flotsom before my body turns into a small cell of jelly goo.

I'll probly end up as one of the bigger goos because I'm a big fat pig.

People keep telling me that I've been looking pretty buff but I think they mean fat.  It kind of looks like the joker installed a bomb device in my stomach but he didn't.

I could probably help by drinking less but I'm an alcoholigst and it would really fuck up my career.  Not that it matters with the end of the world coming but it's good to see things through the end.

I'm a little afraid to die from black holes as we get near to it.

What worries me is waking up in the middle of the night and thinking, oh my god, what's all this sudden pressure on my chest?  Oh my god, CERN!  What have you done!

That must be a terrible moment.

I'd probly wake my wife up.

Honey, do you feel that terrible pressure on your face and chest?

No, it's not me.  This time.

It's CERN.  They're vikings from the past coming to the future to bring around Ragnaraok.  Ragn..aroki.  Ragnaagogoo.

Doesn't it hurt and feel terrible?  I'll say that to her.  Just that way.  If I can get the words out of my mouth unless it's like The Black Hole in Disney and we all just float to heaven with our robots and fancy music.  In that case I'll just pat her arm gently and tell her to go back to sleep.

But I bet it isn't like that.  I bet it's more like, omg pressure omg, can't breathe, damn you CERN and then death.

I'm a bit anxious about it.

Maybe I should just kill myself before it happens.

Get it out of the way.

I'll miss Brittney Spears.  The old Brit, not the new stable one who covers her vaj with proper pink panties.  Who cares about someone who does all the right things?  That's very boring.  Give me the drunken crotchless Brits any day.

Maybe I should update my living will.

Oh my god, all the unborn babies that will die!  Like one giant abortion.  Palin and Fallwell are gonna be so mad about that.  For a few seconds.  I bet that's their first thought.  The unborn children where life begins at conception and now this black hole!

Maybe I'll just drink and work on fan fiction.

Here's a query I wrote for work that doesn't work.  Please fix it.

select * from  dual where sysdate > sysdate -100;

I should shower and work out on the last day of life.

Monday, September 08, 2008

Enjoy this Monday, it's probly your last

My mortgage is due but I ain't payin it.

Not until after Wednesday comes and goes cause that's the day the world is supposed to end again.  I figure if I have to die, might as well go out with a positive value in my bank account and just a little bit in the overdraft protection account.

I don't want to go into heaven in my orange camaro in debt.

That would be a awkward thing to say to Peters.  About the debt.  And me in this new orange camaro.  How to justify that?

So I'll just let sleeping dogs like and if Peters asks why I'm behind on this month's I'll remind him about the free 15 day grace period before the 1.5 percent penalty kicks in. 

That should cover my bases.

On that score, anyway.

So I say to myself, what the fuck is CERN, anyway?  And how have they been able to build a doomsday device without the world knowing it and where are they, anyway?  CERN sounds kinda like Europe, right?  Probably it's the Danes.  All that winter and what the fuck, let's blow up the world.  Why not?

And all this time we're looking for WMDs in Iraq?  Not that it wasn't a swell idea to invade Iraq, they had it coming for a long time, and we might as well see if we can get a 2 day war going with Iran and Russia and Kuwait (but not our good friend Pakistan who stand with us shoulder to shoulder against terror) since the world is ending anyway.

Might as well.

And all this time we're looking for WMDs in Iraq and the CERNs in Sweden are building a doomsday device.

Fucking NATO.

Mother fucking ... what's the name of the one in New York we hate so much that just takes our money and eats our crackers?

The United Nations.

Once again we see that those big country organizations are totally worthless.  Let's try and disband them in the next 2 days, if possible.

Well, not NATO, we may need them for the war with Russia we might as well have.

If you had asked me to list the top three ways in which I MIGHT die?  Death by black hole would not have made the short list.  Long list, sure.  Not top three.  Running from the cops was number two.

Now it doesn't matter.

What really makes me sad is that that hawt VP chick (the one with the retard baby) isn't gonna get into office.  I never wanted to fuck a Vice President of the US, before.  Well, other than Dan Quayle.  God I wanted to fuck him.  I wanted to stand face to face, totally naked, dong heads pressed firmly against one another like two proud football warriors ready for battle -- and then the hip thrusting rage and all the pounds dink to dick until one of us is concave and one of us is vexed and both bloody and sweet relief (at least I think that's how the gays do it) (the gays that don't want anal like me and all the Vice Presidents).

But I guess that's never going to happen.

Fucking NATO.

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

The hiv is fine; beware the aids

I seen a death tent at the cemetery just the other day and I was wondering at what point they decide to do the death tents.  Used to be when you died they just stood around and there you were dead and under the sun or in the cold and now they have the death tents and everyone jams into them and it's more civil.

Why can't I be a member in good standing on the death committees and the death business.  I wonder if there's a catalog.  I wonder what it's called.

Those undertakers are soberly taking the money and they talk about the humanity of the death tent.

I should be an undertaker.

I should make the death tents.

Should I die, don't you put me under a death tent and also give my body to science and when they send back my brain and skull cause who wants that then mount it on a naked mannequin (like from that movie) and tape some hair to the chest and strap a monkeys tail on my dong area and say, look, here lies a once proud man, now just head, chest hair and massive donkey dong.

I went to the DMV.

People are ugly at the DMV, that's fact.  (This includes the scab faced helpers (I'm sorry to say that but they did have the scab faces and that's a cold fact.))

I think the rich people hire the poor and ugly or just the ugly to go stand for them in DMV.

I seen some fellas who was young and in the wife beater shirts and hats and when the hats came off for pictures they had buzz or crewcuts and they was mostly unwashed.

Also was the old geezers and they stood there like they had somewhere to go but they didn't have nowhere to go.  You could see it in their eyes, the panic and despair.  There so early.  Standing in line avoiding eye contact of the Mexicans.  All the old ones.

And the big gals there, too.  Tanks and the bra strap showing with the fat rolling over the denim shorts and a tat on the breast, maybe it's the baby name or a cosmos or star system or seahorse or a snake.  Maybe it's a heart with an arrow, it's all the same right there on the boob and you can see it plain enough, or part of it and you have to wonder if she has Wild Ride in fancy cursive in the inner thigh to the gateway of delight.

Not that I look down on that, but maybe it could be in Latin or Greek, some kind of translation.  Maybe it could be an honest promise, too, not some dim translation from Latin to lies.

Maybe it's on the panties or just at the top of them and you see it and your Latin floods back.

But not at the DMV.

Furthermore, I have discovered the source of aging, it's music.  It pulls you along into death.

I was at Disneyland and they played classic rock and it was songs from when I was a teenager and it was then that I understood that death came wearing a Terry Bozio outfit.  Jelly bracelets and net shirts.

If I could cut that part of my brain I think I might get through.