I've been reading through some of my previous posts and I realized that I haven't written anything recently about crackheads. This is slightly worse than alarming to me since I relied heavily on the unintentional comedy provided by these monuments to human achievement to carry my first few posts on this little thing I like to call a weblog. Well, no longer will I neglect the three-toothed bum that lives next to the Scrub-A-Dub or the woman with no eyebrows who calls 23rd St. her home. I am not responsible for the stupid shit that follows. May god have mercy on my soul.
I present:
Ode to a Crackhead
Crackheads abound, with them streets are filled
Minus a couple, for crack they were killed
Pleasant and friendly, they're always polite
Except when they're cracked out and roaming at night
Looking for quarters, or small animals to be eaten
Only some white rocks their deal could sweeten
But Lou's not around, that worthless crack slinger
He's banging his third wife, a low-rent lounge singer
And the only dealer around at this ridiculous hour
Cuts his shit with Drano, Ajax and flour
What must a man do to find him some rocks
Must he resort to slobbing on cocks
On the gay side of town to feed his desire
To put crack in a pipe and to touch it with fire
To fry up his brain as smoke curls in his mouth
Oh Shit! Muthafucka! He knows some dude on South
Where the street intersects at an awkward degree
Bitch, he gettin' his rocks, but shit they ain't free
Looks like another bag paid for on his knees
Don't look for a moral because there ain't one
Just another dumb crackhead whose mission is done
Worthy of the Pulitzer? I think yes.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Thursday, July 27, 2006
How to be a Bigot
Ever wonder how you, too, can be a bigoted asshole? Well, wonder no longer. Here is the answer:
In order to be a bigot, or at least prove to the world that you are a bigot, you must first live next door to a certain ruggedly handsome guy with a seldom read weblog.
After you accomplish this task you have to buy beer. Lots of beer.
Sit down on your balcony with the aforementioned soon-to-be-famous writer and proceed to drink lots of the beer.
Talk casually about anything that comes to mind.
Realize that your ruggedly handsome neighbor is vastly smarter than you can ever hope to be.
Become jealous, but remember that you are too stupid to recognize this jealousy.
Try to impress your benevolent and intellectually superior neighbor by using big words incorrectly and out of context. Smile nervously as he laughs at you for being an idiot.
Continue talking.
Realize that your neighbor is so well-versed in the ways of the world that he can talk at will about nearly any subject.
Begin talking about sports.
Claim that the runner on 3rd should have tagged up with 2 outs.
Get laughed at. Again.
Suddenly realize that you are all drunk.
Start yelling things from the balcony to the people passing by below.
Watch as ruggedly handsome neighbor leaves to go to the bar.
Continue to watch as he and his friends (some of whom happen to be women, which undoubtedly makes you jealous) get into a cab.
Scream at the top of your lungs to the cab driver (who is Indian) "Yeah! Get the fuck out of here you fuckin' foreigner! Fuck you!"
How to cure yourself of your bigotry:
Get raped by a donkey.
Fucking bigots.
In order to be a bigot, or at least prove to the world that you are a bigot, you must first live next door to a certain ruggedly handsome guy with a seldom read weblog.
After you accomplish this task you have to buy beer. Lots of beer.
Sit down on your balcony with the aforementioned soon-to-be-famous writer and proceed to drink lots of the beer.
Talk casually about anything that comes to mind.
Realize that your ruggedly handsome neighbor is vastly smarter than you can ever hope to be.
Become jealous, but remember that you are too stupid to recognize this jealousy.
Try to impress your benevolent and intellectually superior neighbor by using big words incorrectly and out of context. Smile nervously as he laughs at you for being an idiot.
Continue talking.
Realize that your neighbor is so well-versed in the ways of the world that he can talk at will about nearly any subject.
Begin talking about sports.
Claim that the runner on 3rd should have tagged up with 2 outs.
Get laughed at. Again.
Suddenly realize that you are all drunk.
Start yelling things from the balcony to the people passing by below.
Watch as ruggedly handsome neighbor leaves to go to the bar.
Continue to watch as he and his friends (some of whom happen to be women, which undoubtedly makes you jealous) get into a cab.
Scream at the top of your lungs to the cab driver (who is Indian) "Yeah! Get the fuck out of here you fuckin' foreigner! Fuck you!"
How to cure yourself of your bigotry:
Get raped by a donkey.
Fucking bigots.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
A Day in the Life
7:15 - Wake up. Hit snooze. Fall back asleep.
7:37 - Wake up again because alarm has been going off for 7 minutes. Smash alarm clock with fist. Fucking clock.
7:46 - Shower. Marvel at the size of my penis. Almost slip in the shower. Perform miraculous and acrobatic aerial maneuver to save my ass.
8:01 - Drink first of nineteen cups of coffee.
8:03 - Drink second of nineteen cups of coffee.
8:07 - Put on pants.
8:09 - Put on shirt.
8:10 - Rebutton shirt because first attempt was a failure.
8:20 - Start wishing I didn't have to go to work. Begin thinking of excuses for being four hours late.
8:35 - Leave for work.
8:39 - Get cut off for the first time. Give finger. Yell obscenities.
8:55 - Arrive at work. Stare at hot intern from my office.
9:35 - Still haven't done anything productive.
10:19 - Look at first case file. Auto claim. Boring. Nap time.
11:37 - Wake up from nap. Time for lunch.
12:01 - Return to my apartment. Have first of six beers. Proceed to drink the other five.
12:58 - Decide to return to work. I got shit to do.
1:27 - Return to work. Sit in my office. Decide not to do anything.
2:00 - Boss walks in the office. Asks about the service of a subpoena - the one thing I've actually done this week. Yes!! Tell him it's all taken care of and that the other intern is a lazy piece of shit. Receive hearty congratulations.
2:31 - Decide that my time here is done. I've put in a good day's work. Time to start drinking.
2:49 - Return to apartment. Start on the tequila.
3:31 - Passed out drunk.
5:43 - Friends stop by. It's time to go to the bar.
6:12 - Finish my fourth Vodka and Tonic. Alcohol is my friend.
6:28 - Hit on hot girl at the bar. She doesn't slap me or turn the other way. I'm in.
6:31 - Tell her fellatio is a precursor to receiving shiny things from me. Get slapped.
6:32 - Jager bombs. Lots of them.
7:00 - Leave the bar. After being asked. By the owner. Who is holding a gun. And pointing it at me.
7:20 - Arrive at the next bar. Immediately order tequila shots.
7:32 - I am a fucking wasteland. Time to pull my shit together.
7:34 - Order Vodka and Red Bull. I immediately perk up. My fate is sealed.
8:00 - Start telling girls that I am rich.
8:03 - I am surrounded by girls who think I'm rich.
8:05 - Call them all gold-digging whores.
8:06 - I am no longer surrounded by hot girls.
9:02 - Go to new bar.
9:07 - Consume half of what would have been my 17th drink of the day. Other half migrates down the front of my shirt.
9:35 - The fat chick saddled up to the bar is looking really good right now.
9:37 - Ask friends if the fat girl is really as fat as she seems.
9:38 - Friends tell me to go for it.
9:39 - Tell friends to fuck themselves for trying to make me hit on fat girl.
11:00 - 2:12 - (Scene missing)
2:17 - Wake up at apartment with no pants, half eaten Taco Bell on the table, and a girl passed out in my bed.
2:18 - Smile.
2:20 - Wake her up and make her night better.
3:12 - Fall asleep exhausted and drunk.
7:15 - Wake up and kick girl out. Start day anew.
7:37 - Wake up again because alarm has been going off for 7 minutes. Smash alarm clock with fist. Fucking clock.
7:46 - Shower. Marvel at the size of my penis. Almost slip in the shower. Perform miraculous and acrobatic aerial maneuver to save my ass.
8:01 - Drink first of nineteen cups of coffee.
8:03 - Drink second of nineteen cups of coffee.
8:07 - Put on pants.
8:09 - Put on shirt.
8:10 - Rebutton shirt because first attempt was a failure.
8:20 - Start wishing I didn't have to go to work. Begin thinking of excuses for being four hours late.
8:35 - Leave for work.
8:39 - Get cut off for the first time. Give finger. Yell obscenities.
8:55 - Arrive at work. Stare at hot intern from my office.
9:35 - Still haven't done anything productive.
10:19 - Look at first case file. Auto claim. Boring. Nap time.
11:37 - Wake up from nap. Time for lunch.
12:01 - Return to my apartment. Have first of six beers. Proceed to drink the other five.
12:58 - Decide to return to work. I got shit to do.
1:27 - Return to work. Sit in my office. Decide not to do anything.
2:00 - Boss walks in the office. Asks about the service of a subpoena - the one thing I've actually done this week. Yes!! Tell him it's all taken care of and that the other intern is a lazy piece of shit. Receive hearty congratulations.
2:31 - Decide that my time here is done. I've put in a good day's work. Time to start drinking.
2:49 - Return to apartment. Start on the tequila.
3:31 - Passed out drunk.
5:43 - Friends stop by. It's time to go to the bar.
6:12 - Finish my fourth Vodka and Tonic. Alcohol is my friend.
6:28 - Hit on hot girl at the bar. She doesn't slap me or turn the other way. I'm in.
6:31 - Tell her fellatio is a precursor to receiving shiny things from me. Get slapped.
6:32 - Jager bombs. Lots of them.
7:00 - Leave the bar. After being asked. By the owner. Who is holding a gun. And pointing it at me.
7:20 - Arrive at the next bar. Immediately order tequila shots.
7:32 - I am a fucking wasteland. Time to pull my shit together.
7:34 - Order Vodka and Red Bull. I immediately perk up. My fate is sealed.
8:00 - Start telling girls that I am rich.
8:03 - I am surrounded by girls who think I'm rich.
8:05 - Call them all gold-digging whores.
8:06 - I am no longer surrounded by hot girls.
9:02 - Go to new bar.
9:07 - Consume half of what would have been my 17th drink of the day. Other half migrates down the front of my shirt.
9:35 - The fat chick saddled up to the bar is looking really good right now.
9:37 - Ask friends if the fat girl is really as fat as she seems.
9:38 - Friends tell me to go for it.
9:39 - Tell friends to fuck themselves for trying to make me hit on fat girl.
11:00 - 2:12 - (Scene missing)
2:17 - Wake up at apartment with no pants, half eaten Taco Bell on the table, and a girl passed out in my bed.
2:18 - Smile.
2:20 - Wake her up and make her night better.
3:12 - Fall asleep exhausted and drunk.
7:15 - Wake up and kick girl out. Start day anew.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
A Very Important Question
Introspective interrogation, in the vast majority of cases, can only result in better self understanding which often leads to personal betterment. I often sit down and think about where I stand in respect to certain issues and questions pertaining to me, and in doing so I was led to a very natural question that is pertinent to many people. How many 8 year olds could I fight at one time?
There are a few stipulations that must be addressed. The 8 year olds are all about the same in terms of strength and stamina and each will continue fighting me until dead or incapacitated. No pansy-ass 2nd graders allowed, each kid keeps on coming. There are no weapons involved and each side, the 8 year olds and myself, has one day to train. Here is an objective analysis of what would result if (god-willing) this ever happens:
I am a pretty big guy (6'5", 195lbs), but I am by no means anyone who could double as a NYC bouncer or a UFC fighter. Having said that, after all is said and done I believe I could take 54 eight year olds. Here is the breakdown:
The first line of 8 year olds would surely charge at me. They would jump on me and immediately try to overwhelm me. This, of course, will not work. I will simply single each out and deliver quick and calculated jabs to each individual face I see. You see, these stupid fucking 8 year olds will concern themselves with taking me out in one shot whereas I will incapacitate as many as possible, leaving them on the floor writhing in pain and unable to return immediately to the fight. Doing this will allow me to return later to the ones that I don't immediately kill and take them out as well.
Initial death toll - 12
Soon, though, the second wave of these little bastards will be upon me. I will undoubtedly be tired from the first wave that I valiantly fought off, but, like the superhero I am, I will never ignore my duty to destroy the lives of young children. In response to this next wave I will immediately grab the first kid that comes at me and use him as a battering ram to break the line of little devils coming at me. By separating them I will be able to quickly pick out single targets and deliver jabs to the face, knocking those kids unconscious and allowing me to come back to them later. After eliminating enough single targets I will undoubtedly be able to take out the rest of the group that hasn't been turned into cream-of-child soup.
Secondary death toll - 14 +12 = 26
Don't let anyone tell you differently, 8 year olds are not nearly as dumb as they seem (they can't possibly be). After seeing their counterparts dismantled by my iron fist they will formulate a plan to take me out on all sides. Of course, 8 year olds are not as smart as they are given credit for, either, and again I will fight off the attack. These little shitheads keep coming. At about this time I will summon, from deep within the depths of my soul, a second (or possibly third, I can't remember) source of energy to take down the evil empire of 8 year olds. I will unleash a primal scream the likes of which will cause each child to start crying for his or her mother. Then I will start beating indiscriminately. I will deliver blow upon blow until the little geniuses figure out what is happening. By this time, though, there will not be enough of them left to mount a significant offensive and I soon will have vanquished the oncoming horde.
Tertiary death toll - 16 + 26 = 42
After the third wave of snot nosed hole-in-the-condom-mistakes is dispatched by the likes of your truly I will surely be in the twilight of my defense. Valiantly I will prop myself up against a wall and wait for the next wave of kids to come at me. I will surely take out the first group of kids but, as even the greatest fighters understand, I will soon have nothing left to give and will be taken down. Worry not, though, for I will live on in the memories of all the people I have saved by unselfishly taking out these dangerous children. In the distant future, I will surely be remembered as a great liberator and people will recount the tale of my final battle while women weep as my final breath is described.
Final death toll - 12 + 42 + 1 = 55
After my objective and unbiased analysis I have determined that I could take out 54 eight year olds before succumbing to their grabby little hands and ultimately sacrificing myself for the good of humanity. In fact, I'm a whole lot like Jesus. You know, if Jesus killed kids. Which he certainly did.
This all leads to another question, though. Where do I get 54 eight year old kids to beat down? The orphanage? The dog pound? Can I buy them on the black market? Fuck it, I'll just steal them from their parents while they sleep. Damn, I am such a good problem solver. Hahaha, and I'm better than Jesus. He'd only take out 40. Loser.
There are a few stipulations that must be addressed. The 8 year olds are all about the same in terms of strength and stamina and each will continue fighting me until dead or incapacitated. No pansy-ass 2nd graders allowed, each kid keeps on coming. There are no weapons involved and each side, the 8 year olds and myself, has one day to train. Here is an objective analysis of what would result if (god-willing) this ever happens:
I am a pretty big guy (6'5", 195lbs), but I am by no means anyone who could double as a NYC bouncer or a UFC fighter. Having said that, after all is said and done I believe I could take 54 eight year olds. Here is the breakdown:
The first line of 8 year olds would surely charge at me. They would jump on me and immediately try to overwhelm me. This, of course, will not work. I will simply single each out and deliver quick and calculated jabs to each individual face I see. You see, these stupid fucking 8 year olds will concern themselves with taking me out in one shot whereas I will incapacitate as many as possible, leaving them on the floor writhing in pain and unable to return immediately to the fight. Doing this will allow me to return later to the ones that I don't immediately kill and take them out as well.
Initial death toll - 12
Soon, though, the second wave of these little bastards will be upon me. I will undoubtedly be tired from the first wave that I valiantly fought off, but, like the superhero I am, I will never ignore my duty to destroy the lives of young children. In response to this next wave I will immediately grab the first kid that comes at me and use him as a battering ram to break the line of little devils coming at me. By separating them I will be able to quickly pick out single targets and deliver jabs to the face, knocking those kids unconscious and allowing me to come back to them later. After eliminating enough single targets I will undoubtedly be able to take out the rest of the group that hasn't been turned into cream-of-child soup.
Secondary death toll - 14 +12 = 26
Don't let anyone tell you differently, 8 year olds are not nearly as dumb as they seem (they can't possibly be). After seeing their counterparts dismantled by my iron fist they will formulate a plan to take me out on all sides. Of course, 8 year olds are not as smart as they are given credit for, either, and again I will fight off the attack. These little shitheads keep coming. At about this time I will summon, from deep within the depths of my soul, a second (or possibly third, I can't remember) source of energy to take down the evil empire of 8 year olds. I will unleash a primal scream the likes of which will cause each child to start crying for his or her mother. Then I will start beating indiscriminately. I will deliver blow upon blow until the little geniuses figure out what is happening. By this time, though, there will not be enough of them left to mount a significant offensive and I soon will have vanquished the oncoming horde.
Tertiary death toll - 16 + 26 = 42
After the third wave of snot nosed hole-in-the-condom-mistakes is dispatched by the likes of your truly I will surely be in the twilight of my defense. Valiantly I will prop myself up against a wall and wait for the next wave of kids to come at me. I will surely take out the first group of kids but, as even the greatest fighters understand, I will soon have nothing left to give and will be taken down. Worry not, though, for I will live on in the memories of all the people I have saved by unselfishly taking out these dangerous children. In the distant future, I will surely be remembered as a great liberator and people will recount the tale of my final battle while women weep as my final breath is described.
Final death toll - 12 + 42 + 1 = 55
After my objective and unbiased analysis I have determined that I could take out 54 eight year olds before succumbing to their grabby little hands and ultimately sacrificing myself for the good of humanity. In fact, I'm a whole lot like Jesus. You know, if Jesus killed kids. Which he certainly did.
This all leads to another question, though. Where do I get 54 eight year old kids to beat down? The orphanage? The dog pound? Can I buy them on the black market? Fuck it, I'll just steal them from their parents while they sleep. Damn, I am such a good problem solver. Hahaha, and I'm better than Jesus. He'd only take out 40. Loser.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
4th Grade Throwdown
This will probably be the most childish thing I ever write. This post will be very simple. I'm going to target certain newsworthy people and make fun of them mercilessly. Everything I write here is the truth. I'm going to cut loose like I'm in the 4th grade again.
Terry Schiavo - Hi Terry! How's it going? What did you say? Ohhh, right. Sorry. How's the feeding tube working out? It's not? How come? Ohhh, right, the whole dead thing. I forgot. Well hey, if it makes you feel any better, my friends and I now refer to comatose drunkeness as being "Schiavo'd," so your name will always live on, kind of like you did for a decade before, you know, dying and shit.
That was bad.
Gay Marriage Opponents - You are all scared little cum rags who cling to "tradition" even in the face of overwhelming logic. I guess we can't all be intelligent, reasonable people, though huh? I'm not gay. I'm never going to be gay. Fuck, I haven't even seen Brokeback Mountain, but I can see through all of the "reasons" against gay marriage. Slippery slope you say? I say I'm going to hit you with my 9 iron. And then I'm going to get a huge male stripper to sodomize you. You think I'm kidding? Hahaha, we'll see.
The Homeless Guy Outside of My Apartment - You smell like something that was deep fried at George Webb's. There are lots of homeless people in the world, but for some reason you have been pissing me off more than the others. Why is that? Is it because you begin every morning by saying "Hey man, you . . . you . . . you don't know me and I've never met you before but my car ran out of gas. . ."? Yes. It most certainly and unequivically is. You have met me and I hate you. You don't have a car. You don't even own a bar of soap. Go away from me you piece of shit. And if you ever again comment on the girl I take home, I will simply end your life. No joke.
Sigfried or Roy, whichever was nearly eaten by a tiger - Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. (Deep breath) Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Oh shit. Wow. I'm sorry. Goddamn, that must have hurt. I mean, a tiger tried to eat your head. There is no way anyone who has never almost been devoured by a tiger can't find this funny. Also, that last sentence did make perfect grammatical sense. Hilarious. I'll bet he tasted like shit, though. That's probably why the tiger didn't just swallow him whole. Stupid Roy. Or Sigfried. Fuck them, they're both stupid. Who plays with tigers? I'll tell you who. Dumbass magicians who deserve to be eaten.
President Bush - Hang in there buddy. Only two more years of fucking up the nation before it's all over and you can go back to Texas and rope goats, er, steers. I'm behind you all the way. You Can Do It!
The Husband of the Runaway Bride - GODDAMNIT WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM MAN?!?!?! SHE GAVE YOU THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY TO NOT GET MARRIED!!! CAN YOU NOT SEE HOW BADLY YOU FUCKED UP? HER EYES ARE TOO BIG AND YOUR COGNITIVE ABILITY IS TOO NONEXISTENT. ON BEHALF OF MEN EVERYWHERE I DEMAND YOU RETURN YOUR TESTICLES IMMEDIATELY AND BEGIN ESTROGEN TREATMENT. GODDAMNIT, SOMETHING THAT GREAT HAPPENS TO A MAN ONCE OR TWICE IN A LIFETIME. . .
The Guy in the Office that is Wearing Pink Pants - I swear to Christ he is wearing pink pants. How insanely stupid. Pink. Why?
The Crack Head that Broke into my Apartment Building - You were one door away from being in my apartment. Should you ever breach that door I will buy more crack than you have ever seen from the drug dealer on the corner and make you smoke it until you OD and die.
OPEC - Assholes. It cost me my third-born child to buy gas yesterday. Do you know why that is? Because I've already sold my other kids for beer and hooker money. Jesus Christ!! I shouldn't have to go throught the fucking hassle of producing more offspring just so I can sell them to fill up the tank. Enough is enough, and I'm looking right at you Bahrain. Yeah, you. Don't stare at your shoes, look at me like a man. Look at me!!
China - 1 billion Asians in the same place kind of scares me. Maybe it's just me.
America - 200 millions white people in the same place scares me just as much. But not as much as. . .
The South - Oh dear Christ. Why does your gun rack have a gun rack? I like to kill people indiscriminantly, too, but I usually just capture my victims and perform, solo, various pieces of Shakespearean drama until they are rendered unconscious. Then I feed them to Rosie O'Donnell. What can I say, she's not a picky eater. Unlike my second child, who is probably giving a shit fit to the Mexican couple I sold her to. I said she was a hard worker and was showing a keen interest in coal mining. I lied, though. She hates coal mining. The little piss ant wouldn't even fix my car. Worthless infants. What are they good for if they can't fix the transmission? I'll tell you. Nothing. Nothing at all.
Jesus - Oh la de da, "I'm the son of god. I do wonderful things and walk on water." Yeah, well I can drive stick and make really good sandwiches, so, in the grand scheme of things, I'm much more important.
There you go. I have covered a broad range of people and geographic regions of the world. Now, there is only one thing left to do. Get beer. I'd better start working on that fourth kid. I don't want to have to sell one of the neighbor's kids again. The last time I was arrested for kidnap I had to spend the entire weekend in jail and now I can't go within one hundred feet of them. Assholes, what do they expect me to do when I know a guy who can get $50k per kid? Not sell them? Highly unlikely.
Terry Schiavo - Hi Terry! How's it going? What did you say? Ohhh, right. Sorry. How's the feeding tube working out? It's not? How come? Ohhh, right, the whole dead thing. I forgot. Well hey, if it makes you feel any better, my friends and I now refer to comatose drunkeness as being "Schiavo'd," so your name will always live on, kind of like you did for a decade before, you know, dying and shit.
That was bad.
Gay Marriage Opponents - You are all scared little cum rags who cling to "tradition" even in the face of overwhelming logic. I guess we can't all be intelligent, reasonable people, though huh? I'm not gay. I'm never going to be gay. Fuck, I haven't even seen Brokeback Mountain, but I can see through all of the "reasons" against gay marriage. Slippery slope you say? I say I'm going to hit you with my 9 iron. And then I'm going to get a huge male stripper to sodomize you. You think I'm kidding? Hahaha, we'll see.
The Homeless Guy Outside of My Apartment - You smell like something that was deep fried at George Webb's. There are lots of homeless people in the world, but for some reason you have been pissing me off more than the others. Why is that? Is it because you begin every morning by saying "Hey man, you . . . you . . . you don't know me and I've never met you before but my car ran out of gas. . ."? Yes. It most certainly and unequivically is. You have met me and I hate you. You don't have a car. You don't even own a bar of soap. Go away from me you piece of shit. And if you ever again comment on the girl I take home, I will simply end your life. No joke.
Sigfried or Roy, whichever was nearly eaten by a tiger - Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. (Deep breath) Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Oh shit. Wow. I'm sorry. Goddamn, that must have hurt. I mean, a tiger tried to eat your head. There is no way anyone who has never almost been devoured by a tiger can't find this funny. Also, that last sentence did make perfect grammatical sense. Hilarious. I'll bet he tasted like shit, though. That's probably why the tiger didn't just swallow him whole. Stupid Roy. Or Sigfried. Fuck them, they're both stupid. Who plays with tigers? I'll tell you who. Dumbass magicians who deserve to be eaten.
President Bush - Hang in there buddy. Only two more years of fucking up the nation before it's all over and you can go back to Texas and rope goats, er, steers. I'm behind you all the way. You Can Do It!
The Husband of the Runaway Bride - GODDAMNIT WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM MAN?!?!?! SHE GAVE YOU THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY TO NOT GET MARRIED!!! CAN YOU NOT SEE HOW BADLY YOU FUCKED UP? HER EYES ARE TOO BIG AND YOUR COGNITIVE ABILITY IS TOO NONEXISTENT. ON BEHALF OF MEN EVERYWHERE I DEMAND YOU RETURN YOUR TESTICLES IMMEDIATELY AND BEGIN ESTROGEN TREATMENT. GODDAMNIT, SOMETHING THAT GREAT HAPPENS TO A MAN ONCE OR TWICE IN A LIFETIME. . .
The Guy in the Office that is Wearing Pink Pants - I swear to Christ he is wearing pink pants. How insanely stupid. Pink. Why?
The Crack Head that Broke into my Apartment Building - You were one door away from being in my apartment. Should you ever breach that door I will buy more crack than you have ever seen from the drug dealer on the corner and make you smoke it until you OD and die.
OPEC - Assholes. It cost me my third-born child to buy gas yesterday. Do you know why that is? Because I've already sold my other kids for beer and hooker money. Jesus Christ!! I shouldn't have to go throught the fucking hassle of producing more offspring just so I can sell them to fill up the tank. Enough is enough, and I'm looking right at you Bahrain. Yeah, you. Don't stare at your shoes, look at me like a man. Look at me!!
China - 1 billion Asians in the same place kind of scares me. Maybe it's just me.
America - 200 millions white people in the same place scares me just as much. But not as much as. . .
The South - Oh dear Christ. Why does your gun rack have a gun rack? I like to kill people indiscriminantly, too, but I usually just capture my victims and perform, solo, various pieces of Shakespearean drama until they are rendered unconscious. Then I feed them to Rosie O'Donnell. What can I say, she's not a picky eater. Unlike my second child, who is probably giving a shit fit to the Mexican couple I sold her to. I said she was a hard worker and was showing a keen interest in coal mining. I lied, though. She hates coal mining. The little piss ant wouldn't even fix my car. Worthless infants. What are they good for if they can't fix the transmission? I'll tell you. Nothing. Nothing at all.
Jesus - Oh la de da, "I'm the son of god. I do wonderful things and walk on water." Yeah, well I can drive stick and make really good sandwiches, so, in the grand scheme of things, I'm much more important.
There you go. I have covered a broad range of people and geographic regions of the world. Now, there is only one thing left to do. Get beer. I'd better start working on that fourth kid. I don't want to have to sell one of the neighbor's kids again. The last time I was arrested for kidnap I had to spend the entire weekend in jail and now I can't go within one hundred feet of them. Assholes, what do they expect me to do when I know a guy who can get $50k per kid? Not sell them? Highly unlikely.
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