Friday, January 30, 2009


Why do these Iraqi election posters looks like real estate ads for Glendale?

I can’t read his platform or slogans, but I’m voting for the cigarette.

I understand the need for security, but if there’s a guy from another country with a machine gun working at your polling place, it kind of invalidates the whole idea of a free and fair election.

“But if I can’t bring my gun into the booth, how am I supposed to mark my ballot?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, bro-- most of our elections are fake too.”

The Iraqi police have to be pissed that they got issued leftover French camo from WW II meant for Northern Germany.

But when you get issued blue camo, you have to wonder if you’re getting set up.

I’m no expert on firearms, but I bet it’s hard to shoot well with a strap stuck on your sight.

If you need concrete barriers and barbed wire coils to protect your polling place, something tells me a cardboard box is insufficient as the last means of protection for the ballots.

This is what I would call a partial victory for freedom.

This has to be an arranged photo-op, because if they went around to every person in an Iraqi hospital, they wouldn’t finish till June.

A military translator prepares for a dust storm in an Iraqi hospital.

Boy would they be pissed off if they new that they were supposed to burn that flag since it touched the ground.

On the ‘pro’ side, body armor stops most bullets, but on the ‘con’ side, the stripes make you a much easier target. 

“Eat it.” 

Thursday, January 29, 2009


"Hold on... almost got it... there! Wait, no, start again... hold on... hey Jack, what's that other drum stick for?"

Meg White is auctioning off her drum kit. The best part is, you know it’s in good shape, because she barely touches that shit. She hasn't been playing live shows recently, you know she doesn't practice, and when she does play, she only uses two the drums.

A portion of the proceeds will go to charity, and another portion will go to pain pills.


“Whoa, Billy, whoa! Cover your lips with your teeth like this…”

Cardinal Roger Mahony said he is “mystified” by the federal probe into his handling of molesty priests, but that’s not really saying much, considering his whole, life, career, and soul are built on the mystic.

After 500 children admit to being molested at your office, you shouldn’t say you are “puzzled” and “mystified” by the investigation. You should say, “Holy shit! 500 kids were molested! Someone should look into this, and in the mean time, let’s just cut a little hole in a honey dew melon and fuck it, or something.”

 And, kids, remember, no matter what your priest tells you, there are plenty of other ways to wipe the ashes off your forehead, Palm Sunday has nothing to do with partial fisting, and the stigmata never appears in your butthole—never. 

Tuesday, January 27, 2009


There aren't any photos of human octuplets on google image. That should tell you something.

A California woman gave birth to octuplets last night. The couple had been expecting seven babies, and was surprised when the eighth squirted out. Now, there are all sorts of grey areas surrounding drug-induced, mega-birth, pig litters, and it’s hard to definitively say how many kids are too many, but I think it’s safe to say, once you have lost track of how many people are growing inside your stomach, you’ve got a couple extra.

Some people get angry when a couple plays God and implants dozens of tadpoles inside a woman. But I think this kind of thing comes with it’s own punishment. I can’t even imagine the horrible screeching noise of 8 babies crying in unison as it reverberates and is amplified through that woman’s poor, cavernous vagina like a torn bass drum.

However, I do believe if God had intended us to have octuplets, he would have included the word in microsoft office’s spell-check.  


With two wars and the economic crisis, the defense department will have to make some cutbacks. We won’t be able to fight everyone and buy all the cool shit we want.”

“As of 3 PM yesterday, we’re over budget for the year…”

“and Raytheon cut off our line of credit. Something about no meeting minimum monthly payments for the past eight years.”

“But we’re all chipping in. Last week I broke my arm while I was in Afghanistan throwing bullets at the Taliban.”

“Yeah, I know, pretty badass."

Monday, January 26, 2009


I’m guessing that is probably the only monster trucks named after one of the children on Israel. 

Shortly after telling a radio interviewer, "this is our 16th year, and I wish I had a big piece of wood to knock on right now, but we have not had an incident besides a gal slipping in the aisle at another location," George Eisenhart Jr., promoter of the Motor Sports Monster Truck & Thrill Show, was crushed by a monster truck named “Samson.” This is the second monster truck related death in the past week in America. Perhaps hope will only carry our country so far.

The monster truck promoter’s last words were, “tell my wife I lover her… love her… love her… and I’ll see her in heaven, someday… SOMEDAY… SOMEDAY!”

Wednesday, January 21, 2009


I have jury duty this week. I'm calling their bluff and acutally showing up. Your move, the man.

At least I can rest easily, knowing I have answered Obama's call to action by performing my civic duty, or maybe I'll get out of the whole thing since I posted this. We'll see.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009


Gotta be honest, he doesn’t look any gayer than most priests.

As full of pride and excitement as Denzel Washington is, you know it must piss him off that he’s too old to play Obama.

“Fuck Omar Epps.”

Sure, acting’s a noble craft and an art, but once you’ve starred in “Snakes on a Plane” you shouldn’t have anything to do with the president.

At least they won’t have to green screen this footage for Forest Gump II.

You know there aren’t many Indian celebrities when you have to call Kumar to speak at an inaugural event.

Jamie Foxx did an impression of Obama. It was pretty good, but the part where he had him shooting smack in the bathroom with the horn player seemed a bit excessive.

“Kung Fu Panda—no?!?”

Due to his heightened since of hearing, only Stevie Wonder could hear the cracking noise coming from Shakira’s aging arthritic hips, but it was very distracting

Bettye Levette is soul singer who never got her due in her day because she refused to cross over and sing white music. For decades she toiled in relative obscurity, lived with her mother, and sang in bars. After 30 years of fighting to do things her way, she recently made a comeback, recorded two great albums and was even nominated for a grammy. Finally after all the years of struggling, she’s on stage singing “A Change is Gonna Come” for the first African American president of America, and all of the sudden in the second verse, Jon Bon “Blaze of Glory” Jovi saunters on to stage and fucks up the whole moment.

"You're welcome!"

For Garth Brooks’ first song he played “American Pie,” then to try relate to the black crowd he covered “Shout.” Check out that chick in the choir laughing at him.

James Taylor looks like an old man in a bathrobe.

“Shower the people you love with love, hey, you kids get off my lawn!”

Tiger Woods—beta Obama.

The inauguration committee hired Josh Groban to reach across the aisle to closeted Republicans.

Sure, I’ll never be as cool as Bono, but Bono will never be six feet tall either. Not even close.

“Holy shit, is playing that god damned song again? I’m gonna go piss.”

“Little Pink Houses, foreclosed on you and me.”

Someday I hope to grow old with as little regard for dignity as Pete Seeger.

"Play Freebird!"

Even Lincoln looks surprised.

Friday, January 16, 2009


It all starts Friday morning when Bush starts to say his goodbyes.

“Goodbye Johnny. I think it’s only fair to warn you, I will ruin your life one more time before the day is done.”

“Goodbye Secretary of Education lady. Sorry I never met you until now.”

“Adios Vladimir. Eres un amigo muy bueno.”

“Well, I guess we shouldn’t say goodbye ‘till after you serve dinner… oh…really? Of Ghana? Huh.”

“Goodbye good Korean guy with a bouffant. This is the good one, right?”

“Here’s to controlling the masses. Take it sleazy, Popey.”

“Dmitry! You’re a fucking bastard, and I fuckin’ love you for it! You take care, buddy!”

“Goodbye Reptiloid. I’m sorry we had to sacrifice our free market principles, but I think in time, history will show that giving billions of dollars to CEOs of failing banks was the right thing to do.”

“Goodbye sweet friend. Thank you for 9/11. I’ll miss these moments the most.”

“Okay George, 8 years are up, and I held up my end of the deal—now will you destroy those bloody pictures?”

“Easy there Tony. Don’t go crazy and fuck a sheep again.”

“Bye Bye Silvio Berlusconi. You gotta come see us in Texas sometime. We’ll show you how to do Italian food right—we got never ending pasta, lots of breadsticks, Laura loves the salad. We got lots of hospitaliano.”

“Goodbye Kenny Chesney. I know you’re gay.”   

“All done. Your country now. Bye.”

“Man, this is really tirin’ me out.”

“Hey Ruth, can you send in some coffee. Hey Ruth… Ruth! Hmm, intercom’s busted. I’m pushing the button, but… oh holy fuckin’ shit balls!”

It’s 8:17 PM EST and President Bush has finally killed us all.