SHUT THE FUCK UP!
I've been seeing it a lot lately, now that the new administration has taken root in American society. In the face of the trainwreck that was the Bush administration, the Democrats have done all they can to make President Flav look really f-in' B.A. However, their strategy overlooks some key elements:
1) necessary experience
Maybe if Obama were a more experienced politician, he would have the foresight to run a background check on his cabinet members before he announces them, rather than simply pick a name from the yellow pages randomly and hoping for the best.
Whenever I bring this note up during political discussions with the Dems at my school, they can't stop running their drool-soaked, gap toothed mouths. They say things like, 'background checks are an invasion of privacy'. That's like saying spellchecking your homework is morally incorrect, or that checking the criminal background of a potential employee is illegal. I run background checks on potential relations all the time, and I like to think I lead a better life because of it. Sidebar: Sadie, if you really wanted me to take you to Longhorns, maybe a little heads-up about how you used to be a guy would've been in order.
The Dems at my school also lack any semblance of social grace. They parade around the school with their chins held high, as if to say, 'my helmet is shinier than yours', or, 'everyone thinks my wheelchair is totally BA.MF., homes'. Not true. Like midgets, Democrats were only cool in the seventies. I'm sorry, that statement was misleading, as it was never cool to be a midget.
This, however, is not to say the Reps at my school are any more intelligent. They are the type of Rep who protests not with Obama's poor admin choices, nor do they poo-poo the dump trucks full of money that he drives to the edge of the Sarlacc pit outside of AIG headquarters daily. These are the people who hate Obama because he is black/islam/Al-Qaeda. These are the people who watch Jim Cramer and laugh rather than cry (if you don't know who Jim Cramer is, have you just not been watching the Daily Show lately?).
I seek to champion a third party. We shall call ourselves the Viking Party, and our symbol will by a giant middle finger. Our platform is this:
1) ABORTIONS= MANDATORY
2)WORLD PEACE THROUGH SUPERIOR FIREPOWER
3)AN END TO WORLD HUNGER BY OUTSOURCING MACDONALD'S FRANCHISE TO AFRICA
4)AN END TO NATIONWIDE OBESITY BY OUTSOURCING MACDONALD'S TO AFRICA
5)A NEW ECONOMIC GOLDEN AGE BROUGHT ON BY THE OUTSOURCING OF MACDONALD'S TO AFRICA.
Here's the deal, boyee. First off the bat, Abortions. Not only will they be mandatory, but we shan't pay for them. We meaning the government. You will pay form them with a nice, sizable tax-hike. This tax-hike will focus mainly on whatever race of people currently tops my list of most annoying. First up: whites. You bastards think you're sooo cool with your swimming pools, and your... your sheds next to the swimming pools. But I pee blood in there once and suddenly I'm the neighborhood pariah. Maybe if you crackers weren't such asswipes, I'd waive your taxation, but until your attitude changes, fucking forget it.
Second, peace shall be achieved through superior firepower, and firepower will be achieved by Chuck Norris' guerrilla strike tactics on the WMD storage facilities in Al Qaeda's secret base, a dark desolate wasteland called, Egypt'. Think about it: pyramids that have remained untouched by scientists for decades, scientists who have died months after their expeditions... it doesn't add up. Unless of course you realize that Osama has a time machine! We haven't heard from him in a while, mostly because he has travelled back in time and hidden himself in Cuba. His new identity: Fidel Castro.
Finally, outsourcing MacDonald's to Africa will do wonders for our nation as a whole, especially now that my idea for a fast food restaurant (see... I dunno, February? Sometime around then) has been picked up by Arby's, the best fast food restaurant that no one eats at. Remember, if you're eating our food, you probably think it's Roy Rogers.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Almost Got Killed... Almost!
Just so you don't here it from anyone else, I was almost killed today. Here's the lowdown, G:
I was driving on the highway to the grocery store where I work, and decided to pop a piece of 'Forever Fruit' Stride into my mouth. A few seconds later, the flavor went out (this shit ranks right up there with Fruit Stripe and Black Jack on the list of terrible gum products), so I unrolled my window and spat it onto the road. When I looked back on the road, some jackoff was about to get an ass-full of my front end! I swerved to save the poor 'tard, only to find myself headed for the guardrail... sideways. Things looked grim, to say the least.
Like a well-trained Star Fleet captain, I braced for impact while simultaneously praying to the Dark Lord that he would protect his humble servant. I also made a mental note to pray to more gods; diversify yo bonds, nigga.
I slammed into the guardrail sideways, did a nice horizontal 360, and landed in a tree. Yes! My only wish was that someone would've been in the car with me so that I could high five them.
Minutes later, during my police interview, I couldn't stop thinking about the people whom I had made enemies out of. Who would want to kill me? Was anyone jealous of my great success? I then reminded myself not to ask such stupid questions; of course everyone was jealous of my huge balls. But who would go to such extreme lengths to rid the world of my lovely scrote? Just as the cop was beginning to talk about 'liability', and 'court dates', it hit me: Stride! Those bitches tried to gank me!
Nice try, Stride, but I came out on top. For once, the white man lucks out! I wrote a note on my hand to sue those hook-nosed bastards the moment I got a lawyer. Once my credit rating and/or the US economy gets back on its feet, you gum-slinging Jews are going down, and your quick-drying, flavorless chewable cement will finally be taken off the shelves. Maybe then Skittles Gum will get the respect it deserves.
I was driving on the highway to the grocery store where I work, and decided to pop a piece of 'Forever Fruit' Stride into my mouth. A few seconds later, the flavor went out (this shit ranks right up there with Fruit Stripe and Black Jack on the list of terrible gum products), so I unrolled my window and spat it onto the road. When I looked back on the road, some jackoff was about to get an ass-full of my front end! I swerved to save the poor 'tard, only to find myself headed for the guardrail... sideways. Things looked grim, to say the least.
Like a well-trained Star Fleet captain, I braced for impact while simultaneously praying to the Dark Lord that he would protect his humble servant. I also made a mental note to pray to more gods; diversify yo bonds, nigga.
I slammed into the guardrail sideways, did a nice horizontal 360, and landed in a tree. Yes! My only wish was that someone would've been in the car with me so that I could high five them.
Minutes later, during my police interview, I couldn't stop thinking about the people whom I had made enemies out of. Who would want to kill me? Was anyone jealous of my great success? I then reminded myself not to ask such stupid questions; of course everyone was jealous of my huge balls. But who would go to such extreme lengths to rid the world of my lovely scrote? Just as the cop was beginning to talk about 'liability', and 'court dates', it hit me: Stride! Those bitches tried to gank me!
Nice try, Stride, but I came out on top. For once, the white man lucks out! I wrote a note on my hand to sue those hook-nosed bastards the moment I got a lawyer. Once my credit rating and/or the US economy gets back on its feet, you gum-slinging Jews are going down, and your quick-drying, flavorless chewable cement will finally be taken off the shelves. Maybe then Skittles Gum will get the respect it deserves.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
The History of St. Patrick's Day
Once a year, as spring begins to slowly drag itself up from the icy depths of winter's clammy crevice, our Irish (Scottish?) neighbors take it upon themselves to entertain us with drunken antics and 'parades'... Isn't it adorable? They have no idea parades are for homos.
This day is called Saint Patrick's Day in America, but in Ireland, or Scotland, or Greenland or wherever the hell intoxicated Gaelics come from, it's called Tuesday. Saint Patrick was the invention of Nathan P. Whicklebottom, who needed a red-head dancing fellow to sell beer at gay pride parades. He invented the Saint to try and sell beer while saving souls. For some strange reason, the gay people he targeted wanted nothing to do with the Christian Church, and so, Mr. Whicklebottom went home to his potato-riddled ghetto and got sauced. As was the norm for a Tuesday night, he and his Gaelic neighbors all got shitfaced and started beating their wives. When they ran out of women to whale on, they turned their fists upon each other (not really; they never ran out of women).
Soon, the police were called, and the boys in blue stormed into the projects and asked who started the fight. Nathan, still in his Saint Patrick costume, stood before the cops and said, "Fuck you, Laddie, this be Saint Patrick's Day!" Saint Patrick was quickly beaten to death by the police, and thus was the first hate crime born.
The next day, the hung-over residents of the ghetto woke up, drank a fifth of vodka, and then went back to bed. At around six that night, they woke back up, and saw that their beloved Saint Patrick, whom they'd worshipped for long as they could remember, was dead. A mob, or 'drinkin' posse', was quickly formed, and a riot ensued. Several liquor stores were knocked over, but the police were not involved. Thus, was modern peace-keeping invented; if you see a ghetto and a liquor store, you won't see any police. This riot began to form a strange, all-white, all-male mambo line, which ran in and out of various ghettos. Everyone who saw it noticed how much it looked like a gay pride parade, but since everyone in the parade was drunk and had a baseball bat, nothing was said of it.
Saint Patrick's day quickly became an annual custom, as did wearing green clothes so that you blended in with the colors of the shrubs outside of the liquor stores you were robbing. Now, every March, we line up and laugh at these potato-eating, beer-swilling, wife-beating, condom-tossing gingers as they march up one side of the red light district and down the other. Of course, anyone who isn't Irish is quickly cast aside and pinched repeatedly so that he might learn his lesson. The lesson learned? If you're not Irish, and don't know anything about Saint Patrick, maybe you shouldn't go to every Irish Pub in town and start ruining the party for everyone. Maybe you should just go find a Dave Matthews concert or a hacky-sack game and enjoy that. Or maybe you should go fuck yourself.
This day is called Saint Patrick's Day in America, but in Ireland, or Scotland, or Greenland or wherever the hell intoxicated Gaelics come from, it's called Tuesday. Saint Patrick was the invention of Nathan P. Whicklebottom, who needed a red-head dancing fellow to sell beer at gay pride parades. He invented the Saint to try and sell beer while saving souls. For some strange reason, the gay people he targeted wanted nothing to do with the Christian Church, and so, Mr. Whicklebottom went home to his potato-riddled ghetto and got sauced. As was the norm for a Tuesday night, he and his Gaelic neighbors all got shitfaced and started beating their wives. When they ran out of women to whale on, they turned their fists upon each other (not really; they never ran out of women).
Soon, the police were called, and the boys in blue stormed into the projects and asked who started the fight. Nathan, still in his Saint Patrick costume, stood before the cops and said, "Fuck you, Laddie, this be Saint Patrick's Day!" Saint Patrick was quickly beaten to death by the police, and thus was the first hate crime born.
The next day, the hung-over residents of the ghetto woke up, drank a fifth of vodka, and then went back to bed. At around six that night, they woke back up, and saw that their beloved Saint Patrick, whom they'd worshipped for long as they could remember, was dead. A mob, or 'drinkin' posse', was quickly formed, and a riot ensued. Several liquor stores were knocked over, but the police were not involved. Thus, was modern peace-keeping invented; if you see a ghetto and a liquor store, you won't see any police. This riot began to form a strange, all-white, all-male mambo line, which ran in and out of various ghettos. Everyone who saw it noticed how much it looked like a gay pride parade, but since everyone in the parade was drunk and had a baseball bat, nothing was said of it.
Saint Patrick's day quickly became an annual custom, as did wearing green clothes so that you blended in with the colors of the shrubs outside of the liquor stores you were robbing. Now, every March, we line up and laugh at these potato-eating, beer-swilling, wife-beating, condom-tossing gingers as they march up one side of the red light district and down the other. Of course, anyone who isn't Irish is quickly cast aside and pinched repeatedly so that he might learn his lesson. The lesson learned? If you're not Irish, and don't know anything about Saint Patrick, maybe you shouldn't go to every Irish Pub in town and start ruining the party for everyone. Maybe you should just go find a Dave Matthews concert or a hacky-sack game and enjoy that. Or maybe you should go fuck yourself.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Congratulations, Me!
People always ask me: why do I always have to hate on people? Why can't I love? The truth is, I can. In fact, I just spent the last week creating a special award for great achievers. I call it 'the Great Achiever' award, or the Grachee. Grachees are awards meant for people who have really gone above and beyond to make their voices heard and tell everyone around them to eat shit and die. I'd like to take this time to announce the first ever Grachee award winners:
In Mathematics: Me
In Social Science: Me
In Adult Entertainment: Me
In Music: Me
In World Diplomacy: Me
In All-Around Greatness: Bill Nie
The contributions these men have made to the world cannot be underwritten. Recently, our country has entered a new dark age. Al-Qaeda, the omnipresent threat of SARS, black presidents... I could go on for days. But these men, these Great Achievers, stand tall as beacons of light, guiding us to a safe harbor. They set an example for all people the world over. And here's why.
In MATHEMATICS: I won for everything I've done for the world of practical mathematics. Specifically, I made it my bitch. Recently, I've been receiving a bit more hate mail than usual. In the past month, I've received one hate mail! That's more mail than I get in a year! Thusly, I've devised a computer program that blocks hate mail from getting off of the screen and into my self-conscious psyche without any mathematcial equations whatsoever. I tied a brick to a string and the string to a ruler, and taped the entire apparatus to the top of my monitor. I also taped the brick to the ceiling above my monitor, and tied some more string to the end of the piece of tape holding the brick in place. If someone hate mails me, all I do is yank the string. That releases the brick, which swings down and smashes the monitor, taking the hateful e-mail along with it. Suck on that, Physics.
In SOCIAL SCIENCES: I won for all I've done to alert the nation at large of it's ever-increasing idiot population. These idiots are noted for their pale white skin, foppish, oily hair, acne-scarred complexion, tight jeans, and taste for books about emo vampires committing statutory rape. Stop the madness, now NSA! Toss these bastards over the fence and make it Mexico's problem.
In ADULT ENTERTAINMENT: Have you seen that picture of me? Female spank fodder.
In MUSIC: I won for my valiant struggle to keep non-metal bands form getting deals with metal record companies. I also arranged several protests outside major music corporation headquarters. I didn't really care about 'musical injustice', or 'unpaid royalties'... I just wanted some jackasses to laugh at.
In WORLD DIPLOMACY: Let's face facts, gang: you guys suck. I have bar none the ugliest fanbase of all time. Look at yourself right now in the mirror. Greasy lips, fat head, sweaty mouth sucking in air like a dying fish. Thank god I'm the international ambassador here! I'm a poster boy for American living: young, thin, ethnic in a non-offensive way, and proud. I am America... not really. America is full of old, fat, Mexican draft dodgers who want fair wages for a fair day's work. Here's a thought: get a green card! Then you can enjoy the best parts of being an immigrant (intolerant crackers, denied care in hospitals) with the best parts of being an American (low-paying jobs).
In ALL-AROUND GREATNESS: Bill Nie the Science Guy. 'Nuff said, bitches.
In Mathematics: Me
In Social Science: Me
In Adult Entertainment: Me
In Music: Me
In World Diplomacy: Me
In All-Around Greatness: Bill Nie
The contributions these men have made to the world cannot be underwritten. Recently, our country has entered a new dark age. Al-Qaeda, the omnipresent threat of SARS, black presidents... I could go on for days. But these men, these Great Achievers, stand tall as beacons of light, guiding us to a safe harbor. They set an example for all people the world over. And here's why.
In MATHEMATICS: I won for everything I've done for the world of practical mathematics. Specifically, I made it my bitch. Recently, I've been receiving a bit more hate mail than usual. In the past month, I've received one hate mail! That's more mail than I get in a year! Thusly, I've devised a computer program that blocks hate mail from getting off of the screen and into my self-conscious psyche without any mathematcial equations whatsoever. I tied a brick to a string and the string to a ruler, and taped the entire apparatus to the top of my monitor. I also taped the brick to the ceiling above my monitor, and tied some more string to the end of the piece of tape holding the brick in place. If someone hate mails me, all I do is yank the string. That releases the brick, which swings down and smashes the monitor, taking the hateful e-mail along with it. Suck on that, Physics.
In SOCIAL SCIENCES: I won for all I've done to alert the nation at large of it's ever-increasing idiot population. These idiots are noted for their pale white skin, foppish, oily hair, acne-scarred complexion, tight jeans, and taste for books about emo vampires committing statutory rape. Stop the madness, now NSA! Toss these bastards over the fence and make it Mexico's problem.
In ADULT ENTERTAINMENT: Have you seen that picture of me? Female spank fodder.
In MUSIC: I won for my valiant struggle to keep non-metal bands form getting deals with metal record companies. I also arranged several protests outside major music corporation headquarters. I didn't really care about 'musical injustice', or 'unpaid royalties'... I just wanted some jackasses to laugh at.
In WORLD DIPLOMACY: Let's face facts, gang: you guys suck. I have bar none the ugliest fanbase of all time. Look at yourself right now in the mirror. Greasy lips, fat head, sweaty mouth sucking in air like a dying fish. Thank god I'm the international ambassador here! I'm a poster boy for American living: young, thin, ethnic in a non-offensive way, and proud. I am America... not really. America is full of old, fat, Mexican draft dodgers who want fair wages for a fair day's work. Here's a thought: get a green card! Then you can enjoy the best parts of being an immigrant (intolerant crackers, denied care in hospitals) with the best parts of being an American (low-paying jobs).
In ALL-AROUND GREATNESS: Bill Nie the Science Guy. 'Nuff said, bitches.
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