Thursday, December 18, 2008
“Santa smells like Daddy when he’s mean.”
“Do you think we ruined Christmas for Charlie?”
“Yeah, but it was totally worth it. Fucking hilarious.”
“Tommy, inside this glove down here, I have five magical little elves dancing around, and inside this one, I have chloroform. That’s right, breathe it in…”
“Okay, first, you’ve got me sitting next to a Hanukkah present. Second, this dog just isn’t turning me on at all. Not even a little.”
If you get molested by Santa, does it make your life easier or harder when you find out it was really your dad all along?
How do you get a little girl to let you fuck her in the mouth?
Fuck her in the ear first.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
“While celebrating Christmas in these trying economic times, we should keep in mind what the season is really about: wearing clothes made out of gold.”
In a statement today, the Pope said the struggling worldwide economy would help return Christmas to its natural “simplicity.” After all, the story of an unwed, 13 year-old virgin getting knocked up by an omnipotent, supernatural God, and then giving birth to the world’s Savior in a barn, surrounded my Angels, donkeys, and wise-men who followed a star for thousands of miles, truly is simple, if nothing else.
Monday, December 15, 2008
“…and I am proud to announce, thanks to America's help, the nation of Iraq is free from casual violence…”
"Oh shit! I squirted in the back and front!"
“Let’s see… milk, eggs, pick up the dry cleaning, give douchie here a ride to the airport.”
In the Islamic world, the bottom of a shoe is considered ritualistically unclean and highly offensive. That may sound weird, but I can understand it. Everyday, on the way to my office in Hollywood, I step in hobo piss, vomit, crushed crack pipes and dirty needles, soiled condoms, human shit, and discarded tranny weaves. Some days I step in dog shit just to clean off my shoes. And that’s here in the greatest nation on Earth; God only knows what’s on the ground in a war-torn country. Seems like you’d want to hold that shoe from the inside.
I know burning our flag is a sign if disrespect and protest, but what about burning factory second, Chinese-made, 99 cent store overstocked 4th of July tablecloths that never even made it into America before going to some third world warehouse? Is that really that upsetting?
“Oh that Marmaduke! He is a filthy aberration against Allah, but he is such a cut-up! I laugh out loud.”
Wow, Bush invaded Iraq, hung their leader, laid waist to their infrastructure, economy, and society, and provoked a domestic civil war—all while arresting, torturing, and killing locals, and the best these guys can do is draw a fu-Manchu mustache on him?
Friday, December 12, 2008
This week, Senator Jim Demint from South Carolina claimed America would riot if the automakers got bailed out. He was wrong about bailout, but right about the riots—even though he was talking out his ill-informed ass.
Friday morning, after the auto bailout fell apart in the Senate, the heads of the big three get miffed, and climb back in their cars and drive back to Detroit. Pissed that they didn’t get their money, and even more pissed they have to drive all the way back home in a Buick, they begin to drive erratically like assholes.
The head of GM runs over a kid crossing the street. At first it looks like an accident, until he goes back for the kid’s brother and runs him over too.
Soon the caravan full of failed businessmen goes from just killing kids to ordering all of their executives into trucks and SUV’s to run over union members and anyone who looks like they voted.
But the union members fight back. Since they built the trucks, they know their weak spots: everywhere.
America goes nuts and begins to riot, joining Greece, Germany, Sweden, Spain, Denmark France, and Russia in worldwide anarchy. It’s like every city across the globe won and lost the World Cup and Superbowl.
In addition to being pissed off at the automakers, people are fed up with unemployment, under-employment, impossible mortgages, medical bills, credit card debt, and everything sucking on TV, so they choose the only logical option: light that shit on fire!
By Saturday morning, massive looting spreads across the country, but just the essentials: a BMX bike, a pellet gun, and a headband—no shirt.
Saturday night at 11:12 PM EST, they all get excited and jump at once, but it knocks the Earth off our orbit and we get hurled into the sun, killing us all.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
“In that past 8 years, my Whitehouse has reduced illegal drug use. Take that statement as literally as you like.”
“For instance, inside this Sharpie pen, I have 18 crushed up Xanexes, 7 Klonopin, and 4 Oxycontin. Laura or the girls have a prescription for most of ‘em. And in my pocket I have another Sharpie pen that’s just for sniffin’. All totally legal.”
“Deep breathes. Deep breathes.”