Grey’s Anatomy licks my sack. I’ve never actually watched a second of this show and I still know it licks sack. Whoever Grey is, if that is a character in the show, must have pubes all over her tongue from bathing James Westfall and Dr. Kenneth Noisewater as her job. Yeah, that’s right, that was an Anchorman reference. You won’t find any trite, emo drivel coming from Brian Fantana. That’s because Brian Fantana is a real man. He knows how to survive a vicious cock fight.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse than Sex and the City, Grey’s Anatomy basically steals their format (which I’m pretty sure was stolen from Doogie Howser M.D. in the first place) and recasts the same dialogue in a hospital. Man, what I wouldn’t give for Doogie Howser back on the air. Neil Patrick Harris is pretty much magical. Anyway, let’s take a look at some of the meaningless quotes which might as well be from an episode of Sex and the City:

“A couple of hundred years ago, Benjamin Franklin shared with the world the secret of his success. Never leave that till tomorrow, he said, which you can do today. This is the man who discovered electricity. You think more people would listen to what he had to say. I don’t know why we put things off, but if I had to guess, I’d have to say it has a lot to do with fear. Fear of failure, fear of rejection, sometimes the fear is just of making a decision, because what if you’re wrong? What if you’re making a mistake you can’t undo? The early bird catches the worm. A stitch in time saves nine. He who hesitates is lost. We can’t pretend we hadn’t been told. We’ve all heard the proverbs, heard the philosophers, heard our grandparents warning us about wasted time, heard the damn poets urging us to seize the day. Still sometimes we have to see for ourselves. We have to make our own mistakes. We have to learn our own lessons. We have to sweep today’s possibility under tomorrow’s rug until we can’t anymore. Until we finally understand for ourselves what Benjamin Franklin really meant. That knowing is better than wondering, that waking is better than sleeping, and even the biggest failure, even the worst, beat the hell out of never trying.”

Benjamin Franklin was also an alcoholic. Maybe we should also pickle our livers with Yuengling too. Fuck off. I’ve got an even better idea, let’s all fly kites in lightning storms and see who survives! Even the biggest failure beats the hell out of never trying? Sorry, but I think the world would be a much better place if Hitler never tried. What’s with all this negativity concerning procrastination anyway? You know what I just did for the last ten minutes? I counted the number of goose bumps on my nuts. Do me a favor and take your blanket statements and broad generalizations and stick them up your alcoholic, Hitler loving ass you Nazi sympathizer bitch.

“You know how when you were a little kid and you believed in fairy tales, that fantasy of what your life would be, white dress, prince charming who would carry you away to a castle on a hill. You would lie in bed at night and close your eyes and you had complete and utter faith. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Prince Charming, they were so close you could taste them, but eventually you grow up, one day you open your eyes and the fairy tale disappears. Most people turn to the things and people they can trust. But the thing is its hard to let go of that fairy tale entirely cause almost everyone has that smallest bit of hope, of faith, that one day they will open their eyes and it will come true.”

Oh yeah, and also those fairy tales where trolls ate talking goats, ogres made people’s bones into bread, Jesus rose from the dead, and four ugly bitches living in New York City got cock every episode. I don’t know about you, but I stopped believing in dragons some time in elementary school. Let it go already emo pussy. Maybe, just maybe, this ridiculous idea of prince charming is why you’re always going to be a frigid bitch and no one will ever meet your expectations. You’re going to die alone in your bathroom with a bottle of cheap chardonnay in your hand. Why put off liver failure till tomorrow when you can start drowning your sorrows today. Drink up whore.

“At the end of the day faith is a funny thing. It turns up when you don’t really expect it. It’s like one day you realize that the fairy tale may be slightly different than you dreamed. The castle, well, it may not be a castle. And it’s not so important happy ever after, just that it’s happy right now. See once in a while, once in a blue moon, people will surprise you, and once in a while people may even take your breath away.”

Again with the fairy tales. It’s your own fault that your castle always has its drawbridge open and the black night shows up every other night with five bucks for a quick jousting. Also, I have no interest in hearing your sordid tales of breath play. Do us all a favor next time and tell the dominant not to let go until you stop kicking.

“Maybe we’re not supposed to be happy. Maybe gratitude has nothing to do with joy. Maybe being grateful means recognizing what you have for what it is. Appreciating small victories. Admiring the struggle it takes simply to be human. Maybe we’re thankful for the familiar things we know. And maybe we’re thankful for the things we’ll never know. At the end of the day, the fact that we have the courage to still be standing is reason enough to celebrate.”

Sounds like a whole shitload of loser talk to me. Maybe I should bend over and let life fuck me in the ass too. I’ll probably feel better about it if I tell myself that I’m lucky to be alive and God loves me. Then I could bake cookies, color in rainbows, and choke back my tears as I watch your shitty TV show. Human beings are evolved hominids and nothing more. We have an inherited instinct to stay alive so we don’t need your whiney contemplation on the struggle to appreciate life. Or did you skip evolution in Biology class… DOCTOR.

“I’ve heard that it’s possible to grow up - I’ve just never met anyone who’s actually done it. Without parents to defy, we break the rules we make for ourselves. We throw tantrums when things don’t go our way, we whisper secrets with our best friends in the dark, we look for comfort where we can find it, and we hope - against all logic, against all experience. Like children, we never give up hope…”

There’s something to be said about a glass half full. About knowing when to say when. I think it’s a floating line. A barometer of need and desire. It’s entirely up to the individual. And depends on what’s being poured. Sometimes all we want is a taste. Other times there’s no such thing as enough, the glass is bottomless. And all we want, is more.”

Jesus Christ almighty, I get it. You don’t know when to say when. You’re glass is always half full because you drank the rest of the fuckin bottle. Keep on dreaming of that bottomless glass though. Maybe one day it will come true and you can sail off in your fantasy ship to magical Happyland on a see of whiskey. By the way, a woman’s barometer of need and desire is called the nipple. When you need and desire, it gets hard.

I’m done with this show. I haven’t even seen a second of it and these quotes already make me so angry I could kick a fluffy little bunny rabbit. Into a microwave.

If there is one movie about planes causing death and destruction worth seeing it sure as hell isn’t World Trade Center. Let’s run down some of the most obvious reasons not to see the movie. First of all there aren’t even any snakes on those planes. If I pay 10 bucks to get into a movie about planes there better be some mothafuckin snakes on some mothafuckin planes. Apparently in WTC the part of the snakes has been recast for a bunch of Arabs. I have no idea where the director was trying to go with this one, but Arabs aren’t serpentine in the least. They are warm blooded and their venom sacks are puny. I don’t know about you, but a set of fangs at crotch level scares me a lot more than some retard swinging a box cutter. I’ll bet you affirmative action is to blame for this debauchery. Bunch of Hollywood liberal pussies were heartbroken for the poor Arab actors. Apparently it’s no longer the best serpent for the job here in America. Next thing you know we’ll all be reading the Quran in school and buying designer explosive belts.

Instead of Sam Jackson we get Nick Cage. Not exactly an even trade off. To make matters worse Cage’s moustache makes him look like the biggest bukkake target in the universe. Seriously, log on to the website and look at one of the pictures. I guarantee you’ll be hit with the unrelenting urge to blast the screen with a quart of man yogurt. They couldn’t have made Cage’s character look more homosexual if they had him blowing a sailor while watching Project Runway. Cage, who is normally a good actor, has really dropped the ball on this one. With so many obvious deficiencies in this movie I highly doubt the American public will turn out in large numbers.

Anyone who goes to see this movie is a retard. We all saw September 11th happen right before our eyes. You and I watched the towers fall about 800 billion times. We’ve been bombarded with an undulation of books, newscasts, and posters about our hero’s: the NYPD and NYFD. Do you really need a movie to tell you how to feel about September 11th? Do we need more patriotic browbeating to cowtow us into accepting the path our country has taken post 911? Look at what blind nationalism has led us to in the years after 911. I for one would not see this steaming pile of feces if you paid me. I don’t need a movie to tell me that cops and firemen, especially the ones that take bribes, beat and torture innocent suspects, and shoot little black kids holding cell phones, are all heroes. I don’t need a movie to feel emotional about a terrorist attack that I lived through. I can remember just fine what that morning was like thank you. I don’t need another reason for people who don’t use their brains to stick flags on everything that doesn’t move and call everyone else in the country a traitor. I don’t need movie to tell me that September 11th was the worst thing that ever happened in human history. Three thousand plus died on September 11th. How many more thousands of innocent Iraqi civilians died when we were “liberating” them right into the next world and “instilling democracy”, which is now, of course, flourishing. How many millions of innocent Iraqi civilians starved to death because of the genocidal sanctions we put on them? And you wonder why the Iraqis don’t like us!

But what am I saying. A great movie about September 11th should simply tug at people’s heartstrings by presenting them with an emotional, feel good story about heroism. The lessoned to be learned from September 11th is that we should all feel good, not question why the Arab world hates us so much (they hate us because they are all fanatics and most likely insane to not want our completely benevolent and just way of life spreading into their country like a cancer), and squirt a few tears into your twelve dollar jumbo sized popcorn (you fat fuck).

Having conquered an onslaught of opposing lacrosse players and bested three babes in bed our hero, Wickedman (patent pending), embarked on what he thought would be a relaxing, yet righteous, day of shopping. Wickedman needed new hiking boots to tread upon the face of injustice, a new bedspread to replace his old one (which had become a veritable protein shake), and a new cell phone to download that Crazy Frog ring tone from Mobizzo. Wickedman pulled up to his third favorite girlfriend’s villa in his brand new rocket car. As they sped down the highway and she polished his knob our hero thought “this is the life”. Little did he know his arch enemy was lying in wait for him, just a few miles down the road.

Several miles, and ten gallons of semen, later Wickedman drop kicked his girlfriend out of the car in front of a Target. “Get your stomach pumped” he yelled as he sped away. Moments later he had arrived at his destination and he pulled into the parking lot. “Zounds” he exclaimed, “an open spot and so close to the store!” He put on his blinker and began to turn when he realized that three young children were playing in the open spot. Wickedman resisted the overwhelming urge to run the little bastards down and waited. “Surely the parents will ask their children to move” he theorized. Instead of controlling their children the parents allowed them to continue running amok. Not only that, they did one better. They pulled another child out of the car and proceeded to change his diaper in the open spot. Wickedman’s mouth and neck began to pulsate erratically, his palms began to sweat profusely, and his proud, majestic cock began to flail about shattering the driver’s side window. “How is this possible” Wicked man queried, “they know my only weakness…stupidity!”

Wicked man quickly hit the turbo thrusters and his jet engine incinerated the family of evildoers. “Enjoy the skin grafts bitches” he cackled as he drove ten feet to the next available parking space. He had arrived at Verizon Wireless. “Surely at such a bastion of technology and immutable reason I’ll find solitude” our antagonized hero lamented. Wickedman sauntered over to customer service and made small chat with the semi-attractive woman at the customer service desk. (By semi-attractive I mean that she was probably attractive by your standards, but to our hero she looked like Yasir Arafat in a red blouse) Then, they got down to business.

Wickedman: Miss, I would like to transfer myself off my fathers plan and start my own plan. I have all of the paper work right here for you.

Customer Service Rep: Oh, I’m sorry. We can’t accept those from you unless you mail them in or your father is here to sign the forms.

W: Wait just a tic, if I mail these same forms in to you they are acceptable, but not in person?

CSR: You got it!

W: But they are the same exact forms. The only difference is that they are not in an envelope.

CSR: Exactly.

W: Can I put them in an envelope now and we can play make believe mail?

CSR: I’m sorry sir, we can’t do that. Company policy.

At that moment the shear stupidity hit Wickedman like a sock full of locks. He grasped his heart and collapsed to the floor. Wickedman foamed at the mouth writhing in agony as he desperately attempted to speak. “The…. stupidity….. overwhelming me… can’t fucking comprehend this logic… what the fuck… Who are you?”

The customer service rep guffawed uncontrollably. “Don’t you know who I am? You should. All those little political diatribes on your website finally caught up to you. There aught to be a limit to free speech you know.” Wickedman, now coughing blood onto the floor, sputtered “limits to… fucking stupid… free speech… how… are you…” The sales rep tore off her mask revealing an older gentleman with enormous ears. “Some call me Dubya, but now I go by another name. You can call me The Decider, and you will never escape my web of half-witted logic. Ahahahahahahaha…ever feel a cell phone sliding past your O-Ring?”

Will our hero overcome the incomprehensible stupidity of The Decider? Can you get an unlimited chirp plan for your ass? Is the internet really more like tubes than a dump truck?

All these questions and more will be answered in volume two. Don’t blow those loads just yet.

The buzz around the media today is that Islam is causing many Muslims to riot, burn embassies, KFC’s, effigies, and generally act like fuck sticks. But is that really the case? Let’s take a look see. There are Muslims in America but I’ve yet to hear a story about American Muslims burning anything down or protesting violently against the political cartoons that depict Muhammad as a terrorist. Muslims in this country are offended (which, if you remember, I have clearly labeled as a sign of mental disease), but it could be worse. At least they don’t think that the best way to counter cartoons that depict their religion as violent is to riot, loot, and murder people. What in the fuck? Seriously, how fucking stupid are these people over there? That’s like me countering accusations of pedophilia by rounding up little boys and fucking them. It just baffles me that these people are this nuts. On second thought, I want to thank you Middle East. Thank you for making America look like a better place every day. You make our Christian wacko assholes look tamer every single day. At least our spiritual leaders aren’t calling for the cartoonists to be beheaded or to have their drawing hand amputated. I can’t wait until our cars don’t run on oil anymore so we can let you tear each other apart until you find out who is the “holiest”. Bottom line is if we give up on the right to show these cartoons where does it stop? Do we then give up on the right to criticize religion?

STOP! Stop sending me fucking surveys on MySpace you motherfuckers. You know what; I probably asked for this when I signed up for that grotesque abomination known as MySpace.com, but for the love of god stop! I don’t understand how I can receive three new surveys a day. What is wrong with you women? (Yes, its all women that send them.) Last time I checked every single one of those surveys asks the same god damned questions. Have you ever been kissed? Have you had sex? Have you been in love? What’s your favorite food? The answers to these questions don’t change on a daily basis so why, in the name of God almighty, do you take one every day? I don’t see why anyone should take these things more than once every five years if they take them at all. Not to mention those questionnaires which purport to tell you things like “which Grey’s Anatomy Character are You?”, “Are you liberal or conservative?”, or “What personality type are you?” When you submit your answers a new webpage should pop up with “YOU ARE A GIANT CUNT” written in huge, bold letters. Grey’s Anatomy sucks, if you don’t know if you are liberal or conservative do some research, and chances are your personality sucks. Go fuck yourself.

How about the entire US congress and most of the population of the United States of America? I am honestly in shock when I say this, but president Bush could not be more right on the Dubai port deal which recently fell through. The only reason Congress wanted to step in and nix the deal was the fact that the United Arab Emirates is full of …gasp… Arabs! Never mind the fact that Dubai is probably the most Westernized place in all of the Middle East. I guess the best way to spread Western ideas in the Middle East is to bend over Westernized areas that want to do business with us and fuck them in the ass. Oh no, but some September 11th hijackers were FROM the United Arab Emirates. Holy fucking shit, they were actually from there. Holy jumping jihad Batman, they must all be terrorists over there. The United States people can certainly not be expected to trust any of those filthy camel jockeys. They are clearly all the same over there. Nevermind that many of the individuals with controlling shares in the company are Western. Guess what, if you want to counter the assholes burning KFC’s because of cartoons maybe we should support progressive Arab businesses who are on the path towards modernization. I can’t believe it, but when George W. said we made a big mistake and damaged our relationship with the Middle East he was right. Then W. ruined it by warning against US unilateralism, which he is the worst proponent of in recent history, but I’ll forgive him for that. George W., today you almost made me salute the flag with reverence. Then I realized the entire population of the US and our congress are a bunch of xenophobic half wits and I stopped being patriotic.

Oh well, fuck you all. Take this quiz.

In case you haven’t heard there is an awesome new band called the Dollhouse Factor. They just cut a demo and it should be literally rocking your face off some time soon. I thought I would help them by suggesting some possible album covers. Hopefully my artistic vision and the bands will sync up and create an unstoppable monster of rock and roll.

In case you haven’t noticed any time I put up a link it’s usually something disgusting and vile. Don’t click any of these links if you are at work, next to a nun, or have some semblance of a soul.

Album Cover 1

Album Cover 2

Album Cover 3

Album Cover 4

Album Cover 5

Album Cover 6

Album Cover 7

Album Cover 8

Album Cover 9

Album Cover 10

Album Cover 11

Album Cover 12

I don’t care who you are; Democrat, Republican, or someone with a fully functioning cerebral cortex. Dick Cheney mistaking an elderly man for quail and shooting him in the face is the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.

Well, that thing that happens every four years in the snow is back again. It’s the Winter Olympics! Don’t give a shit? Neither do I. Except for men’s hockey which kicks more ass than any other Olympic event period. The winter Olympics is generally filled with some of the weirdest, and least watchable, sporting events on television. That being said, television in general is more painful than your average flesh eating virus and the Olympics are probably the best thing on TV right now. You just have to know how to watch them like a real man. As a veritable archetype of masculinity I’m going to let you all in on some excellent ways to actually enjoy the winter Olympics.

Rule # 1: Deny everything. Your friends just caught you watching figure skating. This is always awkward. There are very few excuses you can use to get out of this one. The “I was just flipping through the channels” excuse just isn’t going to cut it here. Try this instead: “Yeah man, they just had a special on Michelle Kwan. Man, I’d like that slut to sit on my face!” Your friends probably won’t buy it, but at least you’ll escape the situation with some dignity. On a side note, Michelle Kwan is really fucking hot and I would pay her to sit on my face if she had a yeast infection.

Rule # 2: Make fun of everyone’s accents as much as possible. Sure they are not from the United States and are not native speakers of English. Sure you can’t speak any other languages. That doesn’t mean you should give those bastards a free pass. Make sure to point out all their speech deficiencies and imitate them as much as possible. America is the best country in the world and anyone who can’t speak fluent English should be ridiculed and sterilized.

Rule # 3: Cheer for America and against the other guy. Make sure you proclaim loud and proud just how much you love America and American athletes. At the same time make sure you don’t give those foreign sons of bitches a free pass. Brush up on your racial slurs now when you have the chance. Sure, slurring the Italians, Germans, Canadians and Russians is easy enough, but what happens when one of our boys is racing a Latvian? Will you be ready to yell racial slurs at the television on demand? Not if you don’t study hard you won’t! Also, remember to use the standard format: “Go John Q. American kick the shit out of that ::insert racial slur here:: bastard!”

Rule # 4: Make sure to sound as manly as possible. Point out how “fruity” all these events are. For example, try to focus in on the tight outfits in events like the luge. Try this one: “I bet that outfit comes in handy when he’s picking up guys to have sex with.” It’s that simple. Also, every male figure skater is gay and if you fail accuse each and every skater of homosexuality your friends will start to suspect that you are gay as well. Be as loud as humanly possible and point obnoxiously at the television so everyone knows you’ve spotted yet another gay, male figure skater.

Rule # 5: Nothing is a sport. Curling? Not a sport. Figure skating? Nope. Skiing? Nuh uh. Make sure everyone in the room knows that you are the authority on what a sport is and not the Olympic Committee. A real man only labels something a sport if there is some sort of bludgeoning motion made towards another human being with a stick, bat, or human appendage.

Rule # 6: I could do that! Everyone in the room should recognize that if you trained a little harder you could be an Olympic athlete too. Especially emphasize how “sports” like curling take no skill and “My mother/wife/sister sweeps better than that.” It is important not to admit to actually doing any sweeping yourself. “Anyone can go down a big hill and go flying with skis on.” “Except for Tanya Harding I never saw anyone playing defense on figure skaters.” (Yes, Tanya Harding jokes are still in. If nobody laughs then it went over their heads.) And so on.

Rule # 7: Pot is not a performance enhancing drug. This subject has never been discussed before and you can probably come up with some pretty original jokes about athletes getting the munchies and being lazy rather than competing. Make sure to show your dedication to pot and discuss this topic every time a new event begins. It doesn’t hurt to proclaim “420 for life” or something equally original either.

Rule # 8: Every Olympics should be held in the U.S. Don’t let the host country rest on its laurels. It’s a proven fact that America is God’s chosen country and the rightful host of every single Olympics ever. Any deviation from this rule is evidence of international conspiracy and anti-Americanism abroad. It was probably the French/Muslims/Communists/Pacifists who got the Olympics moved to somewhere else.

Rule #9: Be racist. The Winter Olympics is almost completely dominated by white and Asian athletes. Every time you see an individual of African or Muslim decent make comments like “Oh no! One got past security!” or “Now they have Affirmative Action in sports too?” That is, of course, unless an American of color wins a medal. In which case they must be “one of the good ones.”

Rule #10: Drink up. Without alcohol not only will it be difficult to enjoy the games it will also be nearly impossible to execute the first 9 rules. A generous serving of alcohol will lower your standards of what is acceptable entertainment as well as freeing up your inhibitions. You’ll be able to simultaneously enjoy the games and make ridiculously manly comments with impunity. Without alcohol where would this country be anyway?

2005 was a dreadful year now let’s put it in the past

And hope that the coming annum will provide us contrast

Terrell Owens dominated the news

Which made me hear about Philly

I drowned my sorrows in a bottle of booze

And prayed that God would kill me

Paris Hilton was somehow famous

For shooting the worlds worst porn

Never before have I seen a sight so heinous

I’d rather watch a rhino being born

Hurricane Katrina ripped New Orleans a new one

People sat in the water waiting for FEMA

Bush assured that FEMA would git r done

While the looters gave the stranded a Cleveland Steama’

The White Sox won the World Series

But Baseball is boring and I don’t care

Intelligent design challenged Darwin’s theories

As Christians proved once again science is no match for prayer

2005 was the year of the blog

The World Series of Poker ceased to be cool

Iraq turned into a mire of a bog

We’ll just kill more of them for our fuel

We tortured our prisoners and defiled their Koran

Abu Ghraib was the trendy place to be

But now McCain has on torture placed a ban

For the prisoners this must have caused a jubilee

Hurricanes kept coming in the worst recorded season

But it’s certainly not due to global warming

War protestors are still accused of treason

Which has more hot air: a politician performing or a hurricane storming?

Deep Throat revealed himself to the world

Nobody really gave a shit

Tom Cruise jumped on Oprah’s couch and twirled

Scientology is for the mentally unfit

North Korea probably has nukes

Iran isn’t too far behind

Just watch Reggie Bush throw some jukes

To keep yourself from thinking about the annihilation of mankind

I had a threesome in 2005

Ok, it was in a dream

But for this goal I will continue to strive

Until two chicks share my cream

The Eagles losing the Superbowl was amazing

John Madden is finally gone

How long can I keep up this clever phrasing?

At least until the light of dawn

The Bind Torture Kill… Killer was caught

Redundancy? I think so

Schwarzenegger listened to the case that Tookie brought

And killed that bastard for being a ho

Bono was famous for doing charity

I think he’s found his true calling

Because this I can say with clarity

His music is truly appalling

So that’s pretty much it, the year in review

If you meet a chick with a nice ass, make sure to mount it

Show her how to be Quigley like you

And always remember, if there’s grass on the field… count it!

That’s right, Mr. Miyagi didn’t really die. Did you honestly think that any weapon or illness known to man could possibly do away with humanity’s greatest warrior? Sounds ridiculous when I phrase it that way, doesn’t it? People say Keith Richards is immortal, but compared to Mr. Miyagi he’ll last about as long as I do in bed. Mr. Miyagi laughs at animals like crocodiles that have only been around for about 200 million years. In fact, he created crocodiles one day when he swallowed a Stegosaurus and shit pieces of him out into a pond. Ever wonder why he was familiar with the infamous Crane Kick? Yup, he invented cranes too. One day he tied ten pterodactyls together to use as a toothpick. What was left after he was done flossing was the world’s first crane.

What actually happened to Mr. Miyagi you may ask. Well, a basic knowledge of world history and Norse mythology clearly points to Miyagi’s ascendance to Valhalla. Mr. Miyagi was obviously bored with besting the warriors of Earth and used his magical powers to transcend this world, bypass death, and go straight to Valhalla. He probably gave death an atomic wedgie, and maybe even a wet willie, as he was passing by on his way to Valhalla. The only hope for the human species is that Mr. Miyagi is content to wail on Odon and Thor rather than coming back to Earth and unleashing his wrath upon our cities and Sesame Places.

I can tell some of you are unfamiliar with the concept of Valhalla. First, let me say that I loathe your ignorance and hope your genitalia itch for a period of no shorter than 3 hours. Secondly, all your base are belong to Miyagi. Anywhom, Valhalla is where Norse heroes who have been slain in battle go after death to prepare for the final apocalyptic battle called Ragnarok. It probably took Mr. Miyagi at least half an hour before he soundly thrashed every soldier in Valhalla and got tired of vanquishing the spirits of men. And by half an hour I mean ten minutes to pulverize every last warrior spirit, fifteen minutes to cook an entire turkey with his breath, and five minutes to eat the turkey.

The next logical step for our very brave, and very deadly, protagonist would be to spar with the Norse gods themselves. First is Loki; the trickster God. Trickery, however, has no effect on a finely tuned killing machine like Mr. Miyagi. He would clearly see through Loki’s ruses and rip his heart out through his foot. (No, I don’t know how he does that either.) The leader and father of the Gods is Odin. Good old “Ody”, as all the hipsters call him, is a master of mental trickery and knowledge. Unfortunately for him, Mr. Miyagi was born with more knowledge than Jesus and Alex Trebek combined. Odin’s head would certainly explode if Miyagi chose to explain to him how people bought Nickelback albums… to listen to them! Thor is physically the mightiest of all the gods. He uses his magical hammer to bludgeon his opponents into unconsciousness and have dirty, Viking sex in their poopers. Mr. Miyagi fucking hates sodomy. Need I say more?

It doesn’t look like Mr. Miyagi will be returning to Earth any time soon. He still has a tag team handicap match against the Holy Trinity and an arm wrestling match against that crazy ass elephant with all the arms. The only thing we can do until Mr. Miyagi returns from Valhalla victorious is celebrate his numerous achievements here on Earth:

Mr. Miyagi once yelled at the color blue and frightened it so throughly that it split up into cyan, aquamarine, and royal blue.

Mr. Miyagi was paid for playing two roles in the Karate Kid. Ralph Machio is actually one of his pinky toes with clothes on.

Mr. Miyagi resurrected Freddy Mrecury’s moustache shortly after his death. That moustache now sits on Mr. Miyagi’s shoulder as his companion.

It rains when Mr. Miyagi addresses clouds in a stern manor and they cry.

Neil Armstrong didn’t land on the moon, Mr. Miyagi placed him there.

Mr. Miyagi actually cut his nose off to spite his face. It grew back.

Mr. Miyagi dries off after showering by jumping in the microwave.

Mr. Miyagi is the only thing holding up the Cumbre Viejo.

Mr. Miyagi has only had sexual intercourse once. He pulled out and blew his load into a wagon full of manure: thus was created both politicians and religion.

Sound was not invented until Mr. Miyagi wanted to hear his balls slapping against Cleopatra’s ass.

When Mr. Miyagi smokes pot he doesn’t get high. The pot gets sober.

When Mr. Miyagi goes swimming in a riptide the current not only takes him out, but it also pays the bill.

Mr. Miyagi doesn’t need to eat. He does it out of spite.

Mr. Miyagi is incapable of taking Scantron tests because he pops the bubbles.

Mr. Miyagi’s drink of choice: meat loaf.

I once shook hands with Mr. Miyagi. My spine is still crooked.

Mr. Miyagi is the only human being to ever chew a stick of gum until it disappeared.

Mr. Miyagi almost needed stitches once. Luckily he had a tube of superglue and a zipper instead.

Mr. Miyagi created Rock and Roll when he tied some string to President Millard Fillmore and shredded the Star Spangled Banner. He briefly considered ending Rock when he first heard Nirvana, but he decided to invent suicide instead. He allows Courtney Love to live until one of her crack babies eats its way through her womb and into her arm for a fix.

What the hell is going on with all this power strip deodorant nonsense? If the power stripe in your deodorant is so awesome why the hell is the entire stick not one big power stripe? There are only two possible conclusions: The power stripe actually does nothing except for making your deodorant look purty or the rest of the deodorant does nothing and the bastards who made it are cheap. I’m convinced that the white part of the deodorant is probably even edible, because it sure doesn’t prevent any kind of odor. Here’s a crazy idea, make a whole stick out of the power stripe so my pits don’t smell like Courtney Love’s crotch after two hours of sitting in moderate temperatures. I pay 5 bucks for your piece of shit deodorant; think you could make one that lasts me for a couple of hours shit for brains?

But wait, surely the commercial featuring TO and Jevon Kearse representing odor make this product more palatable. Actually, on second thought, even that commercial sucked. I’m not sure what’s worse, the annoying bitches representing the power stripe or the fact that the commercial is about ten fucking minutes long. We get the idea, the power stripe repels odor, now stop calling people over shitheads. I can sure see why this commercial has been on TV for about half a fucking year now. If this world had any justice the people who designed that commercial would have to run headlong into a firing squad. Remember those old commercials with Charles Barkley? Now that was the right way to sell deodorant. When it comes to protection one shouldn’t mess around.

That brings me to my final point: Barkley, TO, Kearse…. see a pattern here people? This is just another attempt of white America trying to keep the black man down by portraying him as sweaty and odorous. White people can no longer use big lips, watermelon, or fried chicken to stereotype African Americans so they’ve been subliminally controlling us to think that black men smell. Luckily for you guys I’m on top of the situation. I would like to use this opportunity to call for a general boycott of all Right Guard products until they acknowledge their past incidents of racism and rectify the situation in the future. Now African Americans are being ridiculed for their odor, but who knows what Right Guard may try next.

Remember people, next time you are in the deodorant aisle looking for a new stick don’t forget that Right Guard sells inferior products, with shitty commercials, and profits through racism.

1.) Hot chicks are overrated. Fat chicks can do everything they can do, but it’s easier to get one.

2.) Baseball is boring and there is absolutely no reason anyone should ever watch it.

3.) Women will keep fucking the same kind of guy even though all of their relationships end poorly.

4.) Being nice to a woman will only get you stuck in the “friend zone.”

5.) The “friend zone” is a place where women put guys who would be great for them so they can go out and sleep with a bunch of assholes.

6.) Good music doesn’t need lyrics. Go tell Bach that one of his symphonies needed lyrics and he’d kick you in the balls.

7.) Napoleon Dynamite sucked. Stop quoting it.

8.) There isn’t a single decent sitcom on TV except for Arrested Development. Good job TV execs, keep cramming the same repetitive, sterilized shit onto the air.

9.) Suicide should be immediately legalized and encouraged. The herd needs some thinning out before we get overrun with emo pussies.

10.) Beer is delicious and probably cures cancer too.

11.) Philadelphia is not the city of brotherly love; it’s the city of incest. Philadelphia comes from the Greek Philadelphus, a title commonly given to men who married their sisters.

12.) What’s happening in this country right now is a horrible natural disaster. It’s entirely too hot and humid for the end of September.

13.) The only men who wear earrings are pirates or homos… and I don’t see to many guys walking around with parrots on their shoulders.

14.) Country is the worst music ever created. I would rather listen to a bunch of Indian chicks wailing in that annoying, high voice that they all have then some redneck playing shitty guitar and singing about how “American” he is.

15.) 99% of women don’t get real tattoos. Getting a “tramp stamp” or “license plate” on your lower back doesn’t make you original or sexy.

16.) Guys with armband tattoos see above.

17.) Life is too short to drink cheap beer.

18.) New flavor doesn’t mean better tasting assholes. If something is delicious why does some douche bag have to go and make it “new” and “extreme?” Jack Daniels hasn’t changed its recipe for 7 generations. You’d think Doritos could leave theirs alone for a couple of years.

19.) It doesn’t matter how nice you are to the people around you if you turn a blind eye to what your government is doing. Helping some old lady across the street doesn’t make the terrorists hate us less.

20.) No man should ever shave his chest or legs. Leave that stuff to the weaker sex.

21.) Pearl Harbor was the worst historical movie in the history of historical movies. Worse than old British movies that called all Africans “fuzzy wuzzies.”

22.) You can justify killing anyone by saying they were threatening our freedoms, but I’ve yet to hear an intelligent explanation regarding exactly what freedoms are being threatened and why bombing Shitsuckistan is gonna make us safer.

23.) Baked potato chips are for pussies.

24.) Cowboy hats are awesome, but country still licks man-sack.

25.) Wearing tighty whities is pretty much as bad as slavery if not worse.

26.) Cheap tequila is like vomit flavored Tylenol. Sure, they both get the job done…

27.) Tigers are an endangered species having trouble finding food and we have thousands of free range Mexicans running around our borders every day. Why not kill two birds with one stone?

28.) The Japanese are the sickest sons of bitches on the planet. Honorable mention goes to Germany.

29.) Card decks should contain 52 aces of spades and nothing else. The winner is the one who is strong enough to take all the chips.

30.) Doyle Brunson can probably kick your ass.

31.) Women’s beach volleyball is the new national past time. (Just go with me on this one guys.)

32.) Umbrellas are henceforth renamed “pussy sticks.”

33.) New York style pizza is the only real pizza. Chicago style tries to make up for sub par cheese and sauce with toppings. Eat shit Chicago.

34.) Horses are the poor man’s donkey.

35.) Donkeys are the poor man’s llama.

36.) Llamas are fluffy and sensual.

37.) Cologne is not to be used as body wash.

38.) Car fresheners are not to be used as cologne.

39.) Altoids mints “curious” strength comes from blended babies.

40.) You could throw out everything ever written by Stephen King, John Grisham, and J.K. Rowling and there would be no detrimental effects to Western civilization.

41.) Unless it was done more than 50 years ago, don’t remake it.

42.) Now that I think on it, Pearl Harbor might actually be the worst movie ever made. I’ve seen gay porn that sucked fewer dicks.

43.) Mickey Mouse is a retarded alternative to Bugs Bunny. Same for Donald Duck compared to Daffy.

44.) Iron Maiden is the best band ever. Worst band ever goes to every band that sings about what it’s like to be a 15 years old.

45.) SUV’s are for tards. Enjoy the gas prices morons.

46.) Mel Brooks movies are pound for pound the funniest ever made. Honorable mention to Monty Python.

47.) Politicians should be respected about the same as mosquitoes. Probably less.

48.) The best line in any movie, ever, is “Get to the choppa!”

49.) Conan O’Brien will be the first president of Earth.

50.) My balls are bigger than yours.

This was one of the most difficult broadcasts Stephen A. Smith had ever attempted. The rumors and allegations swirled in his head as he tried to make sense of it all. Stephen A. curled his fist into a ball and hurled it down onto his desk reigning down blows on the morning’s edition of the New York Times. Wincing from the throbbing pain in his hand he looked up to the heavens and cursed God for thrusting such an odious burden upon him. “Damn you lord” he sputtered in between sobs “how can one man be expected to know this much. The people of the world need their sports, but I don’t know if I can give it to them. Why have you cursed me with this Sisyphean task? Why?” Stephen A. puckered his lips and spat towards the heavens in vain only to mist the beautifully sculpted face of Linda Cohn. “Stephen” she blurted out in surprise “you usually wait till later to give me the money shot. Which reminds me, I’ve still got the jungle fever you know?” “The people need their sports woman, leave me be.” retorted Stephen A. Quickly returning to his thoughts Stephen A. pondered the day’s important questions: is T.O. coming back to the Eagles? Why is Drew Rosenhaus the best agent ever? Which is a bigger sewer Philadelphia or a sewer? Should we actually discuss football being played……nah! In the back of his mind Stephen A. knew there was no time left. The broadcast hour was drawing nigh and there were asses that needed kicking.

He sat down in his chair and gritted his teeth ready to take on hell the moment the cameras went on. Mere seconds before the broadcast was scheduled to begin something broke the still of the room. An urgent newsflash superseded the show. Stephen A. watched the television intently to see what had happened that would draw attention from his show. His jaw dropped in horror as he saw a path of destruction and mangled bodies. Every imaginable perversion danced on the screen before Stephen A.: Houses torn in two, severed heads, sunken roads, same sex relations, and a great conflagration consuming whole apartment complexes. The camera panned to a lone survivor. It was small Asian man donning a pink Hello Kitty t-shirt. “What happened here?” asked the visibly disturbed news anchor. The man’s reply was ominous “It’s Godzirra run for your lives!”

The camera cut back to Stephen A. At first he was he shocked and in awe, but a wave of boldness soon swept over his body. He stood up and proclaimed to the camera “Ahhhh hell no. No Godzilla ass mothafucka is gonna be stompin’ ‘round New York.” Reaching deftly into his pocket Stephen A. withdrew a silver medallion. He struck the medallion with one finger causing it to spin as he chanted and danced around the room. Suddenly he stopped and his body began to glow like spun gold. From his eyes shown brilliant light and from his mouth protruded a powerful fireball. “Yeah that’s right, yoga fire bitches” he snickered. Suddenly he began to grow at an alarming pace until he shattered the ESPN building and rose to almost 2000 feet above the ground. Far below on the ground the ESPN anchors struggled to clean themselves of the debris. “Oh shit” exclaimed Dan Patrick “he knocked Stewart Scott retarded. Rich Eisen quickly corrected Patrick reminding him that “Scott has always looked like that.”

Stephen A. quickly set his sights on Godzilla ran towards him ready for battle. Unfortunately Stephen A. was so enormous that he couldn’t help but cause collateral damage to the buildings around him. Collateral damage being the term that those who watched from a distance and had no relation to the casualties had the luxury of using. With a purposeful grimace and a terrible sound Stephen A. pulled the spitting high tension wires down. Helpless people on a subway train screamed bug-eyed as he looked in on them He picked up a bus and he threw it back down as he waded through the buildings toward the center of town. Then finally he came face to face with Godzilla. And by face to face I mean face to leg. Stephen A. had swelled to such a gigantic size that he easily stepped on Godzilla and ended the monsters reign of terror in New York City. With Godzilla vanquished the Lilliputian New Yorkers wondered what to make of the colossal sports anchor in the middle of their fair city. “What will you do know Stephen A.” cried every New Yorker in unison. Stephen A. laughed and responded “I’m gonna scoop up every motherfucker that supported the war in Iraq and send them over there to fight it themselves.”

Stephen A. was stayed true to his word and more. Morons who support unnecessary wars soon stopped as soon as they realized they would actually have to fight and not talk while others die because of their words, cats and dogs learned to work it out, and the price of gas dropped to $9 per gallon. But that, ladies and gentleman, is a tale for another day.

A couple of my make friends recently told me they enjoy what I like call “bed talk.” That is, they like to talk while they fuck. Let me clear this up for anyone who has a similar delinquent behavior: there is no need for the exchange of words during sex. The only appropriate phrases are “slap my ass”, “stick it in my ass”, and “eat this caramel out of my ass.” Other than those three phrases I can’t think of a single thing I want to hear during sex. If you’re going to tell me something before or after would be a good time for it. I don’t need women telling me they love me when I’ve got my sausage in their snatch. Save that for after I give you multiple orgasms damnit. This is why God invented ball gags motherfuckers. I’ll pretend that I’m listening to you and I care what you have to say after I spooge.

Chances are women are just going to talk about shopping for shoes or some other horrible money wasting pursuit anyway. Either that or they are going to try and talk dirty which is freakin hilarious. I think if one of my girlfriends ever tried to talk dirty to me in the sack I would crack up laughing and donkey punch her for being a chode. Trying to talk dirty is a ridiculous concept to begin with. It’s like you’re still trying to have phone sex but you’re actually getting the real stuff. I don’t jack off to porn when one of my girlfriends are over so don’t talk to me like we’re on the phone. Chances are what you’re going to say is going to be ridiculous anyway. Let’s take a look at some possible bed talk and the appropriate responses:

It’s so big—– Yeah, your mom thought so too. Wash my damn balls with your mouth whore.

Make me feel dirty—- Finally, I’ve had a giant crap brewing all day.

Fuck me harder—- Maybe if I do that I’ll fuck some honesty into you, you lying slut.

Can I suck your dick?—- No, but I can fuck your mouth.

Get the handcuffs and tie me up—- Let’s just use your back hair. It works just as well.

You’re my daddy—- Nope, you’ve met me before.

Let’s role-play—- Okay, I’ll be me and you’ll be a mime. Shut your cock holster.

Cum in my mouth—- No way, too many calories. Take a lap first pudgie.

There you have it. The next time someone assaults you with some ridiculous bed talk you’ll know exactly how to counter it. The next time your significant other springs some bed talk on you I recommend using some of these lines on them to see which ones best fit your personality.

Ron Jeremy

Here’s to you Ron Jeremy. Only a true porn star like you can turn 12 inches of penis and 45 pounds of beer gut into a successful multimillion dollar career. When you started your career you were ugly and hairy, but you persevered and rode your bloated cock all the way to the top… and now you’re ugly, hairy, and fat. Thankfully you haven’t let this stop you as you’re nailing women like a Roman on Jesus. Like St. George slaying the mythical dragon you bury your sword to the hilt in their poopchutes. You don’t care that your enormous hose is impacting their colons, enflaming their digestive tract, and plowing their esophagus as long as it makes a good movie. After abusing their anus the fun really begins because you have the balls to pull all 12 inches out of their ass and blow your load on their faces before the camera star wipes to you grinning smugly with your creepy mustache. So here’s to you Ron Jeremy. Hit her in the shitter. Slap her in the crapper. Rest your stomach on her tits as you fuck her in the mouth. You know I’ll be watching with my pants around my ankles.

Peter North

Here’s to you Peter North. Only a real man of penis could fire his load with the velocity of a North Korean running towards the last grain of rice. Only a real man of penis could catapult more man chowder than an Afghani could grow opium. It’s good to know that amongst a sea of mediocre porn I can always count on you to deliver a tsunami of semen every time. Like a glowing beacon in the dead of night, you give hope to white men across the globe that have the ability to shoot gallons of semen accurately from several yards away. Every time I pull out of my girlfriend and fail to reach her belly button with my spooge your videos remind me that one day I too might one day blast her in the eye with my man milk. I’m even willing to forgive you for doing gay porn because you give me so much hope and inspiration. Not that I’ve ever seen your gay stuff, but I’ve heard about it. Seriously though, that guy was cute. So here’s to you Peter North, at least you don’t pee on the women.

There is only one beer on the face of this earth that I can’t understand why anyone drinks it: Corona. I understand your various watered down beers like Coors Light, Miller light and so forth. They are relatively cheap and they do down easy. They’re ok for frat parties, funneling competitions, and washing the dishes. I understand your mid priced beers like Yuengling, Heineken, Honey Brown, and so forth. They have a more flavor than your standard light beer without the price of the higher ends stuff. Personally I think Heineken is disgusting, but I can see that some people might like that taste. I understand the higher end stuff like Sam Adams, Newcastle, Guinness and so forth. They are the tastiest beers and, in my opinion, worth the money. Somehow, however, Corona seems to be priced in this range.

Corona is by far the most overpriced beer in the world. It tastes like absolute shite. There is a reason no one drink Corona without a lime. There’s a reason Corona is so expensive and it’s not taste. Corona is priced high because it’s popular and you stupid bastards are willing to pay for it. It’s like paying an extra ten dollars for a white shirt that has the little Nike swoosh on it. The shirt is ugly, but you bought it anyway and now you look ugly with your trendy shirt on. Enjoy that shitty taste with your trendy Corona in your hand fuckstick. Seriously, who would pay 7 dollars for a beer that isn’t drinkable without putting fruit in it? I know you put lemon in wheat beers and such, but wheat beers don’t taste like urine without lemon in them. I’m actually convinced Corona is made by a bunch of small Mexican children who follow donkeys around waiting for them to take a piss. It’s the only real explanation. They probably throw in some hops and barley after and call it a beer.

The sad part is that there are other fine Mexican beers like Negro Modelo that hardly anyone buys because they don’t realize Corona came from a donkey with a urinary tract infection. For the same price as Corona you can get some delicious Newcastle Brown, Sam Adams, or….. are you ready for this…… actually try something new! There’s a world of delicious beers out there that not many people are buying because they are too busy buying boatloads of popular beer that has half the flavor of the smaller beer makers brews. But don’t listen to me. The best beers are the most popular ones. Just don’t blame me when you get Donkey AIDS and fleas in your mouth.

Paris Hilton is rumored to be pregnant with the child of some ass clown who is also named Paris. Well, the father is either him or one of the many men she’s fucked in the past month and has no recollection of. Not only does this child need to be aborted immediately but is should be rammed down Hilton’s throat till she dies sucking on her own placenta. Anyone who thinks that Paris Hilton can raise a child clearly hasn’t seen what she has done to Lindsay Lohan. Hilton took my fucking wet dream and turned her into another anorexic blonde. Lohan used to a beautiful red head with great curves and a gorgeous face. Now she looks and acts exactly like Paris “Skeletor” Hilton. I guess I can’t completely blame her though. It really is America’s fault. Every time you half wit inbred fucks turn on the TV or pick up a magazine because Paris Hilton is on you only encourage her. Wake the fuck up America. Not only is Paris Hilton not attractive or interesting in any way, she is the scum of the earth. Any man who actually got an erection from seeing Hilton naked on the internet should check into the nearest Catholic Church for defaggification. Not only is Hilton disgustingly skinny but she has a beak where her nose should be. I swear to god she looks more like a bird of prey then she does a human being. She should be perched on my shoulder looking out for rodents not on my television making me vomit. Oh yeah, and it’s also a safe bet that she has at least 3 STD’s.

Just imagine the life that this child will have. It’s a safe bet that the kid will be born addicted to cocaine. Luckily for the kid, Hilton’s titty milk probably has enough drugs in it to give the kid her fix. Unfortunately, it is still speculation whether or not Hilton has tits or if she had raisins surgically grafted onto her chest. The poor kid will be sucking dick for coke by the age of 2. The worst part is I have to hear my girlfriend talk about how she’s fat when she’s fucking beautiful. Wake the fuck up women, real men don‘t want women who disappear when they turn sideways. Paris Hilton and women that skinny in general, are fucking disgusting. Any man who is actually attracted to Paris Hilton should have his fucking head examined and his dick removed. The bottom line is Paris Hilton needs to die. I hope she gets beaten to death with an aborted fetus nunchuck. That is, her aborted fetus at one end of a chain and a cinder block at the other. I figure she can get hit with the fetus until she looses her mind and then finish her off with the cinderblock.

If there is one thing I have come to realize about Americans it’s that they would vote either Democrat or Republican even if both parties ran fascists dictators. For Christ’s sake, people actually thought that either Bush or Kerry were attractive choices! The American people had their choice between an invalid and someone with absolutely no convictions whatsoever and they still ignored the third party alternatives. I tend to assume that most Americans have their heads firmly implanted in their sphincters, but the election of 2004 was quite possibly the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. The fact that Bush and Kerry got any votes whatsoever has just convinced me that the American people need to be educated and introduced to the plethora of third party candidates offering viable alternatives to the traditional Republican/Liberal (retard/fudge packer) dichotomy that has prevailed in American politics.

The Pot Party

Some critics have alleged that the Pot Party is a single issue party that lacks a clear vision for American society other than the legalization of marijuana. This is simply untrue. The Pot Party has articulated a wide rang of policy goals including legalizing marijuana, making marijuana lawful, and insuring that marijuana is not illegal. Anyway you look at it the Pot Party leadership is much more intelligent than you average Democrap/Republicunt whose argument is “marijuana should be illegal even though it is no worse than alcohol in any way. It’s wrong because I say so.” Sorry, but I prefer to use logic not emotion when deciding if something should be legal or not. Don’t forget to give the Pot Party some props at the voting booth in 2008.

Strengths: Always wiling to pass

Weaknesses: Oh shit, I was supposed to go in to work today? My sperm count is how low?

Overall: 5/10

The CommyNazis

Wear a monocle? Hate capitalist pig dogs and everyone whose skin is a different color than yours? Does goose stepping stretch your glutes and leave you invigorated? The CommyNazi party might be the choice for you. This unusual party has combined the communist hatred of capitalism with Nazi self loathing and hatred for all races! The CommyNazi party is ideal for xenophobes and those who like to repress all forms of dissent (Republicans) as well as whiny little shits who complain about poverty and the distribution of wealth from their mansions (Democrats). Besides, you really want to be in with these guys when they seize power or you might slip and fall on a bullet.

Strengths: Insanity, thirst for blood, silly hats, oven and shower manufactures through the roof

Weaknesses: Self loathing, denial, chew with their mouths open

Overall: 7/10

The Monarchists

If ethnic cleansing and socialistic redistribution of wealth are too radical for you, but you still want a ruler with an iron fist the Monarchists are a good alternative to CommyNazi radicals. The Monarchists boast an impressive cult of personality focused on The King who apparently provides delicious meat burgers at value prices. The King plans on maintaining power through his all knowing and all seeing security apparatus. It’s almost like The King is watching you at all times. This is always appealing to voyeurs, peeping toms, and upskirt connoisseurs. The Monarchists plan to establish the kingship as a hereditary, lifelong position, but we can always kill off a king or two if need be. Tyranicide has half the guilt of killing a democratically elected leader but all of the taste.

Strengths: cult of personality, crowns rock balls, coercion shuts up all the stupid people

Weaknesses: toilet cams, scepters are real gay and so are princes

Overall: 9/10

Anarchists

Anarchists may be the biggest waste of genetic material ever. In fact, they are probably best described as the world’s only living abortions. The brilliant anarchist social vision includes whining, bitching, mohawks, moaning, shirts with the letter A on them, and no fucking clue about what to do if anarchy were actually to happen. Apparently the anarchists think if we get rid of political authorities life will somehow improve. Let’s get one thing straight, the only thing anarchy leads to is military dictatorships and punk music. I would be able to tolerate a brutal military junta, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to listen to any more punk music than is already popular.

Strengths: none

Weaknesses: punk blows, brain dead, mohawks are gay, punk really blows

Overall: -5/10

Hypocritical Party

The hypocrites are those unique characters who can criticize someone for doing one thing, turn around and do that exact thing, and think they are honest. The hypocritical party is actually more of a broad coalition of people who think jokes about other peoples race, sexual orientation, or religion are funny but get mad when you make a joke about whatever the fuck they are, people who tell you not to do drugs and then get caught popping painkillers, people who talk about loving their brother but lack a tolerant bone in their body, and so on and so forth.

Strengths: It’s completely impossible to convince them they are wrong

Weaknesses: See above

Overall: 3/10

That’s it for now, but there are many other interesting and exciting third parties out there. Don’t forget to keep you minds open, your beers cold, and dead hookers buried at least 6 feet under.

What if Jack and Jill stopped climbing that lame ass hill and went to Candyland? What if they met Plumpy, King Kandy, and 50 Cent? What if I rapped about it? What is the airspeed velocity of an unladened swallow? The answer to some of these questions can be found below.

(Jack)

That’s my favorite pose, down on my piece like the rest of them ho’s

Lick the stick while I’m slappin that fat

Swallow my cum when you startin to hum and I bust like a gat

Close the doors and drop to all fours

I’ll show you I care just put your ass in the air

I’ll be real smooth, this ain’t gonna hurt

But I ain’t gonna love you if you don’t make me squirt

(Jill)

You must be straight trippin boo

Thinkin I would roll with a cr*a like you

You must be actin tha fool

Thinkin you could work this with a itty bitty tool

You can’t get me off lookin like a little kiddy

I been cheatin on you, gettin my ass stuffed by fiddy

(50)

We gonna roll tonight Jill

Hope you took that pill cuz we don’t need a little fiddy making your booty ill

Bitches get knocked up best say they prayers

Bitches fucked up, take a trip down the stairs

Knock that kid right outta you bitch

I’m a playa ho, toss that kid in the dumpster cuz I know you ain’t gonna snitch

Hop in my Benz and we ain’t gonna stop

I’ll take you to the candy land and let you like the lollypop

(Plumpy)

Please girl, what are you doing with this bitch?

He ain’t no gangsta he’s a wanksta

You need a real pimp to tap that shit

I’ll put my big green self between your tits

Stick with me; we’ll be rollin in Benjamins

Sippin Henny and lightin blunts with Washingtons

(King Kandy)

Ni**a don’t front cuz you can’t touch this bling

I’m the king of bling wearin my diamond rings

Gucci linens, rims be spinnin, juice and gin’n, lyrically spinin

I see you grinnin, but don’t worry cuz we ain’t sinnin

Join the King Kandy Klub I’ll get you a sheet

Back that ass up till I skeet skeet skeet.

(Tupac)

Tupac can’t say anything because he’s fucking dead. He needs to stop putting out albums or I swear to God I’m going to dig up his corpse, put a stake through his heart, and cremate him. Maybe that will stop that undead son of a bitch.

::Everyone stops rapping and shoots each other::

FIN

It’s come to my attention that some nationalities out there seem to think that they are as good, or even better, than the Irish. As a scholar and prominent member of the intelligentsia I am determined to disprove this myth of equality and establish once and for all that the Irish are the greatest race in the world. I promise that I will leave no stone unturned as I search for the truth. I intend to examine several facets of the race conundrum from culture to culinary prowess and beyond. I believe that the facts will demonstrate that the Irish are not only the best people in the world, but they might even be gods among men.

One of the most important representations of a people’s culture is how they represent themselves through symbols and figures. Particularly important is the “mascot” which comes to represent the values that a people hold dear. Through the examination of these mascots we should be able to discern if any races are indeed equal to the awesomeness of the Irish.

Let’s start of by examining the Irish mascot: The Drunken Fighting Leprechaun. First of all note that this guy is ready to beat your ass and he’s probably had more than enough drinks to start a Donnybrook if you look at him cross eyed. Not only will he kick your ass, but he’s well dressed enough to score some chicks after he’s done walking all over your face. Just look at the tails of his jacket fly about. There’s nothing more attractive to women than novelty hats and a badass green jacket. Last but not least his goatee is long enough to look manly, but not too long to the point that the ladies won’t like it. It is just long enough to tickle a girl’s ass while he’s munching her box. I don’t see any way other nationalities will be able to compete with this little bastard, but we might as well give them a chance.

The German mascot Swastika Sam has some serious issues. First of all he’s a snake like character that somehow got all twisted up into a four pronged figure. There is no indication he’s ready to fight or even that he knows which way he is going. Worst of all, like most Germans, he can’t achieve or maintain an erection without being defecated on. He thoroughly enjoys a good brown shower to the face (or as he puts it “sheise in mine eyeza”) and that is more than enough to disqualify him and the entire German people as being respectable in any way.

The Polish “Mr. Potato Head” mascot looks rather debonair with his fancy hat, moustache, and interchangeable facial features. However, anyone who knows Poland knows that the only thing they have going for them is potatoes. And if an Irishman is telling you that your country has way too many potatoes than you know there is a serious problem, people. Find another gig besides potatoes, dumb Polack jokes, and getting conquered by the Germans. Then I might consider the Polish half as nifty as the Irish.

The French have perhaps the creepiest mascot of all time with the “Old Mime with Crotch Bulge.” This is just disgusting. Not only are mimes the creepiest motherfuckers on the face of the earth but France managed to choose one with a crotch bulge. Way to earn that reputation as the gayest country on earth France. How much wine do you actually have to drink before a creepy old clown who can’t talk actually sounds like a good idea???

The Americans national mascot seems to be an elderly gentleman name “Uncle Sam.” Uncle Sam’s defining traits are that he is constantly pointing his finger at you, he’s really old, and extremely creepy. I can only assume he is some sort of proponent of colonoscopies and wants to stick his finger up my ass. This is somehow less gay than the French mime, but still really unnerving. No dice America.

Let’s not forget the world’s major religions as distinct cultural groups. The Jews and Christians have apparently come up with a joint attack to dethrone the Irish as the greatest people alive with Hanukkah Harry and Santa. Apparently the dynamic duo of Harry and Santa give out presents to little boys and girls who have been molested by Catholic priests and robbed by Jewish media types to silence them. Real nice guys, shut those little kids up before they can talk. An Irishman would simply cut out the present giving and beat their little talkative asses silent.

Islam has an extremely powerful mascot known as the “blue mage.” The blue mage has the ability to conceal all of its human features and succumb to repressive religion 24 hours a day. They can also cast level 20 fireballs or lightning storm in a pinch. The blue mage cannot, however, escape the boundaries of good ole’ Islam.

Perhaps the second most impressive mascot is the Japanese “two animated chicks fucking” or “hentai.” At first glance hentai is awesome. It combines the essential characteristics of the male fantasy: 1.) You can draw women doing anything you want them to 2.) Gender ambiguity 3.) Tentacle rape 4.) All the chicks have huge boobs and neatly trimmed cooters. But when you actually think about it you realize that somewhere a bunch of Asian dudes are beating off to this and its not nearly as cool. Any mascot that makes me think of Mr. Miagi stroking it is not a good one. Nice try Japan.

The Mexicans are the final entry with their taco stuffing Chihuahua dog. This guy had some potential, but his writers were terrible. We get it, Yo Quiero Taco Bell. That got real old real quick. If they had come up with other ads like Yo Quiero Analingus or Yo Quiero Partial Birth Abortions than he might have had a chance at dethroning the drunken fighting Irishman, but that never happened.

It’s pretty clear to me (and I think I’ve convinced you too) that the Irish are better than you. Stay tuned for future updates on topics like alcohol variety, bombing the English, and badass accents.

You know the world is full of insecure, shallow women when their major source of inspiration of life advice is a TV show about four over the hill women. It’s completely fascinating how most women today take advice from Sarah Jessica Parker. A woman so beautiful that it takes three hours of work from the most expensive makeup crew a TV show can buy to make her look like she wasn’t beat in the face with an ugly stick. It really looks like Sarah Jessica Parker’s face caught on fire and someone put it out with a steel toed boot. She’s a 10 martini hook up at the very least. Flanking Parker is the elderly Kim Cattral who is somehow less attractive then Parker. The only thing Cattral has going for her is her character is easy and completely nondiscrimination. There should be a clause in Cattral’s contract forcing her to act with a bag over her head so I can at least pretend like she’s not a wildebeest. Cynthia Nixon apparently fills the role of the straight chick that looks straight up gay. Complete with short lesbianish hair and a face only a woman could love I’m not really sure what to think about Nixon. I guess I’d let her blow me, but I wouldn’t tell my friends about it. Rounding out the cast is Kristin Davis. Davis must have wandered onto the wrong set for auditions because she somehow wound up being the only attractive human being on this show. Why she hangs out with three hags is beyond me. I guess it makes her look that much better standing next to the other three.

I know what you’re saying “that’s pretty superficial to judge a show based on how attractive the main characters are. Ugly people need lovins too.” Let’s ignore the fact that the premise of the show is that these women can actually attract men, and I’ll humor you. Time to check out the substance of the show. The basic premise of the show is that Carrie (Parker) is an advice columnist trying to figure out her own sex life. With such brilliant advice as:

“I admit it’s tempting to wish for the perfect boss - the perfect parent - or the perfect outfit. But maybe the best any of us can do is not quit, play the hand we’ve been dealt, and accessorize what we’ve got.” Carrie

So you’re saying life isn’t perfect??!!!?? Hmmmm… where have I heard that before? Probably in every fucking TV show ever created. Way to be original by adding the word accessorize to make the quote appeal to women. Top notch writing.

“Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that’s just fabulous” Carrie

Holy crap, why not list some more types of relationships while you’re at it. This list isn’t nearly long enough for my taste. Please don’t forget that time you and that circus clown Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz….

“Can you get to your future if your past is present?” Carrie

Holy shit, thanks Stephen Hawking. That whole space time continuum thing sounds so simple when you explain it that way. Maybe if I run through a wormhole my past could be my present and I could regain the half hour I spent watching this god awful show.

“Maybe our mistakes are what make our fate. Without them, what would shape our lives? Perhaps if we never veered off course, we wouldn’t fall in love, or have babies, or be who we are. After all, seasons change. So do cities. People come into your life and people go. But it’s comforting to know the ones you love are always in your heart. And if you’re very lucky, a plane ride away.” Carrie

Thank you Miss Parker. You managed to take the very old (and very trite) statement that we learn from our mistakes and made it incredibly vapid. By the way, everywhere is only a plane ride away. You see, planes fly through the air. They can go pretty much anywhere.

“When it comes to relationships, maybe we’re all in glass houses, and shouldn’t throw stones. Because you can never really know. Some people are settling down, some are settling and some people refuse to settle for anything less. Than butterflies…” Carrie

As opposed to those other times when it’s a great idea for people in glass houses to throw stones. Miss Parker may be correct that some people don’t want to settle…. or maybe they are old and unattractive. One of those two.

“I’m telling you: the fat ass, the farting - it’s ridiculous. I am un-fuckable. And I have never been so horny in my entire life. ….” Miranda

At least this Miranda character seems to get it. They are all pretty much unfuckable and smelly.

This show is like someone gave a book of proverbs to a bunch of old skanks and told them to hump the entire city of New York. When they aren’t catching an STD they occasionally throw some tired old proverb about life at you. Personally, I don’t take my advice from TV shows and neither should you. Don’t watch Sex and the City.

The most recent addition to the list of retarded preppy fashion seems to be flipping the collar of your overly pretentious Abercrombie shirt up. The flipped collar is now so wide spread that it has officially joined the preppy hall of fame of metrosexual fashions alongside faded jeans, hats with pre-ripped rims, and a cock in the mouth. Preppy fashion confuses the shit out of me. Apparently the way to score pussy is to dress like a flaming homosexual and pay way too much money for a little A and an F sewed onto the shirt. Not only are Abercrombie shirts incredibly pretentious, overpriced, and generally ugly but you god damned preppies had to go and flip the collar. Before I tended to question the sexuality of preppies in general, but now I’m sure they love the cock. There are only two types of people who have the right to walk around with flipped collars: pirates and ninjas. And once the age old question of “who would win in a fight, a pirate or a ninja” is answered there will only be elite group of killing machines allowed to flip their collars. Not like a real pirate or ninja would ever sink to the low of flipping their shirt collar for attention, but nobody would say anything if they did. I would love to find the first guy who thought flipping his collar was cool and castrate him so he couldn’t spread whatever is wrong with him. Just because it’s popular doesn’t mean you don’t look like a douche. Pull your heads out of your anuses.

Even more mind boggling is how any woman could be attracted by this crap. What the hell is wrong with you sluts? You flock to pop culture and cling to it like a newborn on its mom’s teat. Here’s a newsflash: pop culture is completely devoid of any substance and so are the people who follow whatever is popular. These people have no identity of their own. They let popular trends pull them along until some new trend replaces an old one. If you want a cookie cutter man who’s just like every other guy out there go ahead and suck off every guy walking around with a flipped collar. You’ll end up with a mouthful of jizz from some dude who wore a flipped collar Abercrombie shirt just so he could fuck you. Congratulations. Enjoy the after taste. Looking for a guy that is going to treat you well and respect you unlike your past relationships when you were treated you like shit? Here’s a hint, don’t go for the guy who looks and acts like all the other scumbags you’ve been with. Maybe, just maybe, take a look around and notice who’s not paying out the ass for mass produced preppy fashion. Like me.

Seriously, I’m the perfect man. I don’t understand why more chicks don’t offer me fellatio as I’m walking down the street. It’s completely mind boggling. Sure, I have a girlfriend and all, but would it really hurt you women to offer once in awhile? Let’s go to the score board:

Balls the size of cantaloupes: Check

24 hour erection: Check

Hairy nipples: Check

Never flips collar up: Check

Clips toenails with teeth: Check

Can bench press the pope: Check

Willing to let your girlfriends join in: Double check

Jizz tastes like strawberries: Check

Willing to lick your ass after you’ve ran five miles: Check

Doesn’t pay $40 for a fucking t-shirt: Check

Made a kitten skin coat out of 100% retarded kittens: Check

Holy crap, I’m so fucking manly it’s ridiculous. Just look at that list. What woman in her right mind wouldn’t let me toss her salad while a half dozen of her friends took turns blowing me? It’s a cruel twist of fate that God made me so awesome, but didn’t give me enough flexibility to suck my own dick.

Our women are being eaten by sharks; keep them in the kitchen

Recently I stumbled upon an obscure but informative documentary entitled “Spring Break Shark Attack” on CBS. For those of you that missed it I feel it’s my civic duty as an American to disseminate information that may save the lives of our women. Unfortunately people no longer seem to care about the three big issues of war, the economy, and shark attacks. If apathy towards shark attacks doesn’t end soon those scaly water sucking bastards are going to keep feasting on our womenfolk until humanity consists of only dudes and were are forced to turn gay. The wars that would result over who gets to pitch and who has to catch are too horrible to imagine. Something has to be done and it needs to be done now to save our cunts. Luckily for you I saw “Spring Break Shark Attack” and I took a few notes here and there. As best as I can remember here are the main arguments of this insightful documentary.

The documentary starts by examining the strange phenomenon of the Spring Break. Apparently spring break is a time for women to wear skimpy bathing suits, get drunk and roofied, and take late night swims in the ocean. I know what you’re thinking, where do I sign up. That’s exactly what the sharks want you to think. Here’s the way it will go down: You’ll head down to a popular spring break location and some stupid cock tease will let you buy her drinks till she’s retarded. She’s still not going to sleep with you. She’ll probably just act like her conversation was worth the money. Let me tell you something, there is no woman on this earth whose conversation is interesting enough that you should have to pay for it. Pull your heads out of your asses guys and make the sluts buy their own god damned drinks…… Ummmmm….. Let’s get back on track. The documentary then follows the drunken young women into the ocean as they playfully remove their clothes and plunge into the ocean naked. Naked women jumping into the ocean is almost guaranteed to alert every shark within 800 miles because women still haven’t figured out how to stop menstruating. Within minutes the sharks will be on our women like an Iraqi on an infidel.

The trend is alarming indeed, every year more than 1 woman will be attacked by a shark (probably). According to the expert marine biologists of “Spring Break Shark Attack” there are only two solutions to the problem: put Roy Scheider in the ocean with a tennis ball, a shoe, and some compressed air or keep the women in the kitchen where they belong. According to the theory of territoriality sharks will only feed in an area as long as the food is plentiful. If we keep our women in the kitchen the shark’s food supply will quickly dry up as spring break hotspots will become overrun with a bunch of dudes and quickly lose their popularity. A woman has everything she needs in the kitchen anyway: a clock on the oven, food to prepare for her man, cucumbers to satisfy herself with when her man is not around, a refrigerator to keep her man’s beer cold, and, if applicable, the children who need tending to. I don’t see any reason that a woman should be allowed to leave the kitchen. There is only one Roy Scheider and the only other proven method of shark attack prevention is handcuffing the bitch to stove. Seriously women, if you don’t want to get eaten by sharks you should probably stay in the kitchen. I suppose you could leave the house every once in awhile, but only with a male escort to protect you from land sharks.

Here in the liberal Northeast most people seem to be incapable of understanding our more conservative brothers and sisters living in the South and Midwest. The debate over what exactly conservatives believe seems to revolve around one important axis: Are conservatives really mentally retarded and out of touch with reality or do they have a hidden agenda which has yet to be fully grasped by liberal think tanks? What could the red states (Jesus land) possibly gain by, for example, destroying our environment? Surely fetal alcohol syndrome can’t be blamed for ALL of conservative America’s mental deficiencies. When you think about it there really is no rational explanation for conservative environmental policy. One of my favorite arguments is “Let’s drill the shit out of Alaska. The oil we get there will only last a couple of months at the most, but it might lower gas prices by a nickel. Who cares if we have to rape one of the most beautiful places in the United States as long as I save a couple of bucks at the pump?” Don’t even get me started on Kyoto. I understand that Kyoto was a flawed plan, but the alternative plan suggested by conservatives seems to be “Let’s just walk out of Kyoto and tell the rest of the world to go fuck themselves. Instead of working to change Kyoto we should probably just pretend like there’s not a problem and ignore the overwhelming body of scientific evidence that states global warming is going to fuck the Earth in the ass if we don’t cut back our emissions.” I know, it doesn’t make any sense to me either. Or at least it didn’t until I discovered some shocking evidence.

I was recently able to sneak in to the White House and sneak a peak at some of George W. Bush’s confidential policy files. There was a combination lock on the door but it was easy to figure out the code. I knew Bush wouldn’t be intelligent enough to any 5 numbers that were not in sequence. I also knew that Bush would most likely fuck it up after the third number. So I entered the code: 1, 2, 3, 5, 6. The door swung open immediately. Inside Bush’s environmental policy dossier I found the following startling image: Apparently Bush was able to obtain a rare photograph of the beast known as Sasquatch (Yeti or Abominable Snowman if you prefer. However, I do hear that he prefers to be called Harry and people don’t like him because his feet are too big.) The picture was disturbing to say the least. The Sasquatch is X’ed out over and over with 666 across his forehead and “Kill” written near his feet. Questions began to swirl in my head. What was a picture of Sasquatch doing in Bush’s environmental policy files and why would Bush want to kill him?

I knew I was getting closer to an answer As I thumbed through the well worn pages of Bush’s secret files. If I could only figure out how the environment fit into this picture. I had almost given up hope when I noticed a file titled “U can’d hyde him fourevar.” Which, translated from retardanese into English, would be “You can’t hide him forever.” The file contained yet another ominous picture and the final piece of the puzzle: It all became clear once I saw this picture. Bush is using this picture as a warning to other trees. But why?

Bush and his conservative buddies aren’t deforesting the world and raping the environment for no reason. They are searching for Sasquatch. Since Sasquatch has been known to hide in forests Bush is systematically destroying the forests of the world to force Sasquatch into the open where he can be destroyed. (Apparently Bush thinks the trees can talk and is destroying any tree which won’t give him information on the Sasquatch’s whereabouts.) But what is the motive you may ask. The Sasquatch is the missing evolutionary link between man and earlier hominids. If Sasquatch were to be discovered by a rational human being that evil institution called science could prove evolution beyond a shadow of a doubt. This would cast even more doubt on the bible and the Christian faith would crumble leaving Bush and conservative America without their mental crutch. Bush is destroying our forests so he can cling to creationism. Either that, or he doesn’t give a crap about the environment. But I like to think my theory is the truth.

Yours truly,

The Wicked

The Last Day of the Wicked

It’s recently come to my attention that life is short and precious or some shit like that. Apparently we’re supposed to be living each day to the fullest and so on and so forth. I love people who go around telling you to live each day to the fullest. As if I woke up and decided I was going to live today half assed. Sometimes living to the fullest means sitting in my chair with a hand on my nuts and a cold beer in my hand, ok asshole? Fuck off. What people really mean when they say live life to the fullest is “Live your live to my standards of fullness.” These are the same people who will walk around and tell others that they are missing out on the “college experience” like there is some universal experience we should all be sharing in rather than going our own ways. If you’re even the least bit anti-social you must be missing out on this mystical journey through college. Let me clear something up for you, people are scum. The whole of humanity is a cluster fuck of degenerates and scumbags. I have actually found great success with the following philosophy: All human beings should be assumed to be scum until they prove otherwise. It’s much easier when you group everyone together and then pull out the few decent human beings you meet from the teaming human mass of refuse. Chances are the people who tell you that you are wasting your life were probably conceived when they were spooned off the bed sheet.

Another tenet of the “live life to the fullest” philosophy is the last day plan. As if we get to plan our last day on earth we’re all expected to lay out exactly what we would do if we had a single day left on this cum dumpster we call Earth. Most people say they would spend the time with their friends, family, cats, or whatever. Not me. My last day on Earth would go down in the history books as the single greatest day ever lived by any human being. Let’s take a look.

12AM: I wake up. I don’t shower, shave, change my clothes, or apply deodorant. I urinate in every possible room of the house. I then drop a deucer in the George Foreman grill turn it on and leave the house.

1AM: I take my car out and see how fast I can actually get it to go. I don’t leave my car until I have scored at least 200 points where running over: an elderly person= 20 points, a puppy=30 points, pregnant woman=40 points, and any children in a blind/deaf child zone=50 points.

4AM: I break the fire censors in one of the local dorms on floor 10 causing that floor and the nine below it to flood.

4:30 AM: Molest all the hot freshman sluts with wet t-shirts

5-7 AM: Watch the sun rise and put together the pieces of my sniper rifle. Only shoot squirrels and yell something about the Oregon Trail and not being able to carry enough meat.

7 AM: Collect squirrel pelts and sew squirrel skin codpiece.

8 AM: Impress all the ladies with squirrel head covering my dick. Ask ladies if they want to see where the squirrel has buried his nuts.

9 AM: Drive to mall. Trip old people going for their morning walks. Beat mall security guards with