The New Xmas

As I sit here by the fire, laptop topping my lap like a dollop of sour cream tops spaghetti, I can't help but look back and wonder to myself about everything I've done with the past year of my life. Reminiscing about all I've done to better the community puts a grin on my face like nothing else, except maybe sex.

So what have I done for my fellow man? In addition to my continuing work here on my blog, I also built a log cabin with my bare hands. This was around six o'clock last night or so. True, I only really built it for myself, and also it's less of a 'cabin' and more of a 'pile of tinder', but I think it counts as community service, especially since I was told in court I would no longer be allowed to live so close to the high school. Maybe now that I live under a heap of sticks on top of a mountain, those damn kids won't skateboard on my lawn.

As I stroke the beard I grew last night, and drink the cocoa I made out of owl pellets, I can't help but feel bad for everyone back in civilization, celebrating Christmas with their families. Sucks to be them, right? All warm, and loved, and getting presents. Presents my ass. What does Christmas truly represent, besides the birth date of our Lord and Saviour? Not much, except greed and mass consumerism. So instead of enjoying and/or playing with your toys this year kiddies, send them to me! I will do the honorable thing and burn them, and I will certainly not open them, or enjoy them, or decorate my cabin with them. No sir. That'd be gay.

In fact, lets abolish Christmas forever. I'm tired of waiting around for Jesus to show up and kill everyone. It's been two thousand years, people. Newsflash: he ain't coming. I do understand, however, that some of you were counting on him to come and smite your enemies. Have no fear; I will be more than happy to smite them in Jesus' stead.

Instead of celebrating Christmas, we will now celebrate a new holiday: New Christmas. I would have called it something cool, like MurderDay, or KillsMas, but it would be too expensive to reprint all those Hallmark cards. New Christmas will be exactly like Olde Christmasse, as we shall now refer to it, except with a few key differences.

1) NO SANTA. Sorry kids, but on New Christmas, there is no false idol worshipping, which Christianity seems to promote like there's no freakin' tomorrow. Rather, on New Christmas day, we get on our hands and knees and pray to an image of the one who died for our sins: Billy Mays. You see, Billy Mays truly was the son of God. Just look at that beard and tell me it ain't saintly. Anyhoo, Billy tried all he could to improve the lives of millions, by selling them tubes that cooked spaghetti really fast, and blankets with sleeves that make driving impossible. But he was killed in his prime, at the young age of 51. Some, like CNN News, say he died of a cocaine overdose. However, we at the church know he died for our sins. Cocaine just stopped his heart when it happened. Total coincidence.

2) NO PRESENTS. Rather than blowing all your money on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles for that unappreciative prick cousin of yours, there will be no presents whatsoever. Rather, we will all gather underneath the enormous statue of Billy Mays and draw a single name from a jar containing everyone's names, and whomever has their name drawn is stoned to death on the spot. Some might say I stole this from Shirley Jackson's The Lottery. I assure you that I thought of this idea all on my own. I just happened to be reading The Lottery when I did is all. Total coincidence.

3) 24-HOUR IRON CHEF MARATHON. There's no explanation for this. Iron Chef is just awesome.

4)NO PASSION PLAYS. Rather than force our children into a mockery of the life and death of Jesus Christ, we will now force our children to work on New Christmas day. Hey, the stores are all closed on Christmas; do you know how much money we're losing? And by abolishing Olde Christmasse, we're losing even more money in Holiday sales! This is to make up for that. Every boy and girl under the age of twelve will be forced to pitch in and work at the salt mines, mining salt and other such things. That should balance out the dip in the economy. Everyone knows salt sells like hot cakes.

That about does her. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to find a pheasant for my New Christmas feast. I don't know exactly what a pheasant is, but I assume shooting a BB gun into the brush outside my cabin will yield one. Merry New Christmas to all, and to all a good afternoon.

quickie: eight years later, and you're all still retarded

Eight years after the World Trade Center was attacked by terrorists and it still hasn't sunk in; some people just don't like the truth I guess.

Allow me to clarify the word Truth for the uninitiated. Truth is something that can be backed up by science or logic. It has to be rooted in either one or both of those in order to be Truth. Without science or logic, what you have are Lies. That is exactly what you'll find at 9/11 Truth, as well as on the Loose Change video series.

I'll focus on science first, and I promise to stay brief. Steel loses half of its strength at 648 degrees celsius. Jet fuel burns at 825 degrees celsius. So, in summation, yes, jet fuel can melt steel, because 825 is a bigger number than 648. Do you see how that works, you hippie liberal twat? Can't believe everything you see on YouTube.

Next, logic. Why in fuck would President George W. Bush, an American citizen, attempt to kill hundreds of thousands of his own people? For the hell of it? I know what you're thinking: "BUT DARSH GEORG EBUSH WAS A STOOPID PREZDENT LULZ". Shut the fuck up you fat sack of excrement. I'm not going to start a brand new argument about the merits of President Bush, because this is a quickie, so I'm trying to adhere to that standard. Regardless of wether or not George Bush was a bad president, I doubt genocide of the American people was on his agenda. I know every pothead with a hacky-sack and a Ziggy Marley album is going to chase me down because 'Bush was a murderer, man'. Whatever. This isn't about the war in Iraq, you putz. The fact of the matter is there is simply no incentive for ex-President Bush to kill hundreds of thousands of his own people. Think with your brain, if you haven't smoked it away yet.

Finally, I'd like to address post-9/11 youth. Grow up. No one cares about your stupid petitions to end suffering in Darfur, or Ghana, or wherever. People suffer. Nations go to war. IT HAPPENS. I'm not saying I support genocide in Rwanda or whatever, but signing a piece of fucking paper won't do jack. You want to help? Go to Africa and fight the good fight, chief. Signing a petition that would have to go through months if not years of bureaucratic legislation in order to become a bill that no politician with half a brain would touch for fear of losing his job HELPS NO ONE. Why don't you try to get pot legalized while you're at it? And stop bragging about your stupid marches and protests on FaceBook. I'm sick of hearing about it. A few weeks ago, a friend of mine named 'Greek Chick' said she saw some guy shop lift some Tide from Walgreens or something, and some skinny jean'd prick named 'Kick Naroutsos' put up a whole goddamn paragraph saying how he 'supports people stealing from fascist monopolies that have ruined this nation'. Wow, thanks for finally legalizing theft, Detective Dipshit! We were all waiting on a high school dropout like yourself to support legal burglary, and now that you do, I'm sure President Obama will personally introduce a bill to congress that legalizes rape and murder as well! Congratulations, asswipe, you've brought shame to an entire generation.

My Fantasy Novel

Kids, I'm sorry to bring this up around Xmas, but I am piss poor. That hundred inch plasma screen TV I bought for my bathroom completely wiped me out, so I'm making some sacrifices around the home. For one, no more toilet paper. From now on, I'll just call one of you, my loyal followers, on the work number I forced you at gunpoint to give, and you'll drive to my house and wipe my ass with your shirt. Or pants, I'm not picky.

I do, however, have a plan to make some extra green, which I will hopefully spend on a hundred inch plasma screen for my walk-through humidor. I'm writing a book, cleverly titled My Fantasy Novel, to cash in on the wave of fantasy novels that have overtaken the youth of America. Y'see, white kids are a little stupid; they'll buy anything that has vampires, teenage girls, and iPods in it. That being clear, I'm going to join the race with my own fantasy novel! Here's the rundown.

The story is about an up-and-coming pornstar named Darsh, who is also a serial killer/highschool quarterback. One night, during a particularly hot blood-orgy, Darsh is bitten by a vampire named Count Fagula. Fagula, however, is not a cool vampire, like Blade. He's one of the gay ones, who doesn't shave ad has hair like a duck's ass. Fagula falls in love with Darsh, but Darsh, being so fucking awesome I'm at half-mast as I write this, doesn't like vampires. Darsh is a member of the Human Supremacist Movement, a group of humans who believe that vampires, werewolves, ghosts, zombies, robots, and any sort of halvesie out there can all suck a giant hard one. So Darsh and his sexy co-murderer, Chesty Laroux, set out to kill Fagula and every scenester vampire at school, as well as every scenester who isn't a vampire, and every vampire who isn't a scenester. After a particularly brutal gunfight, which actually caused me to vomit while writing due to incredible gore amounts, Fagula is murdered, and his corpse is fed to an army of horny sodomites. Watching Fagula's dead butthole being plowed by sodomite after sodomite, Darsh then bone-storms Chesty Laroux and every woman within a two mile radius, makes those really good Pizza Rolls you can get at Hannaford's, then passes out on his Mom's couch.

This book is a surefire win. It has everything; tits, murder... everything! Look for it in your local bookstore, in the aisle dedicated to books that are so great that not buying eight copies is a federal crime. Get yours today!

What I Want For Christmas

Kids, it's that time of year again; the time whence we celebrate commercialism, the American dollar, and the price of love. Once per year, we gather underneath trees stolen from Sweden and/or made by child laborers in plastic sweatshops along the coast of Vietnam, put shiny little balls on fish hooks under the branches, and sing songs of a superhero/zombie Jew born in Iraq. Of course, I'm talking about the magic of Christmas! Hope you've been saving up, because I want a shit-load of expensive gifts and services this year, so get ready to gift me and service me, in that order. Here's my Xmas list for the holiday of 2009.

1) A HANDSHAKE FROM BARACK OBAMA. This is a big one. If I am given this, I promise I will take the Vote Hezbollah sticker off the back of my Camry. Anyhoo, if President Obama agrees to shake my hand and maybe let me rub his stomach for good luck, then I can die happy. Of course, what Obama won't know is that I'll put a tracking device under his cuff links during his trademark terrorist fist-jab. That way, I and my cohorts, Glen Beck and some guy named Biden (he apparently has no first name, and quotes Nietzsche waaaaaaay too much), can keep tabs on the so-called Mr. President. Then, when he goes to the bathroom, we'll spring our trap, and throw a nylon net at him! Whilst Obama struggles with the mighty nylon, my friends and I rush in, pull his pants down, and take a picture of the President's notorious baby-penis! That'll teach him to be black and the President at the same time.

2)DINNER WITH A HOMELESS MAN. Last week I fell asleep watching an old re-run of Comic Relief, and if it taught me nothing else (it didn't), it's that homelessness is funny! I can't wait to hear all sorts f jokes my homeless compadre has to tell me. Like, why did the hobo cross the road? To take a shit in a coffee can! Ha... well, it will sound a lot funnier coming out of Whoopi Goldberg.

3)TED DANSON'S SKELETON. Okay, I know Ted Danson is still alive, but honestly, what is he doing with his life? I mean, after Cheers, what then? Becker? Suck my balls, Becker! No one likes Ted Danson. In fact, I'm pretty sure Ted Danson doesn't like ted Danson. If Ted Danson is willing to either A)kill himself, or B)be killed by my followers, I would like the skeleton. Why? I have a great idea for a sitcom called Ted Danson's Skeleton. In it, a poor fat black kid is adopted by rich white people. Also, the rich white people own Ted Danson's skeleton, which of course the consult for advice on their day-to-day problems. I've talked to Rupert Murdoch, and if I manage to get Ted Danson's skeleton, he'll put it on ABC Family.

4)A HANDSHAKE FROM SARAH PALIN. Same as Obama, but I'd steal her underwear instead. Hello, eBay.

5)JESUS. I want Jesus for Christmas. I mean, I don't want like the whole Rapture thing to happen just yet, but i would like to see a cosmic Hebrew deadite to come and tell people that the world won't end in 2012. Or that it will, either one would be pretty tits.

Well my children, that's the long and the short of it. Also, if you could ask Jesus to bring Eazy-E back from the dead when he comes. I'd really like to hear good rapping again before the world ends in 2012. Thanks guys. And like I tell you every Xmas, if I'm not appeased at least once a year, I'll kill all of you (just kidding, not the women-folk). Kisses.