Don’t Profile, MmmmKay?
May 29th, 2009
That’s right. Offending someone more likely to be a terrorist is worse than cleaning the cobwebs out of granny’s hoo haw in a strip search.
Chalk one up for the terrorists 
Archive
Archive for May, 2009
I’m Such an Idiot.
May 27th, 2009
I’m such an idiot. A complete dolt. If you were to cut my head off, I’d run around like a chicken, all jumping and flapping and excreting and whatever it is they do because they are so dumb.
I do one thing, one tiny little thing that takes a nosedive, and I spend the rest of my existence to date correcting it.
I had gotten tired of watching you petty little humans poke at animals with sharpened sticks and doing each other from behind without so much as a “hello, my name is..”. I decided to throw you ugly primates a bone and scatter around some primitive written words. Soon enough you picked up the art of writing, and your evolution took off from there.
I had to go and do it. I got drunk one night, really drunk. When you’re an immortal like me, life gets boring after a while and you find yourself lost in the drink night after night, just to take the edge off the agony of existence.
I wrote it. I went and wrote it, and that was my first mistake. It was just a collection of bullshit stories. I was so drunk that the stories didn’t even make coherent sense: It was just a bunch of rambling around one very angry and childish central character who threw fits all the time.
Well wouldn’t you know it, but I dropped the damned thing in the tavern. Somebody found it, shook my vomit off and well – BELIEVED the damned thing.
Next thing you know they start mutilating themselves, emulating one of the worst parts of my book! Do you know what you retarded hairless monkey’s started doing? You started cutting your damned foreskins off!
Holy fucking OUCH! That’s where most of your damned nerve endings are! You stupid retards.
It didn’t end there though. They started murdering people in the name of the main character in the book. They actually thought my bullshit was real. Can you believe that? It’s complete FICTION and they’re MURDERING people! Over absolutely nothing too I might add. Just utter madness.
A thousand years of bloody mayhem went by, and I soured in my own corpulence. It was then one drunken stormy night that I decided that I had to fix my mistake, and I wrote another book. This book was about the son of the main character in the old book. I made him not into an angry childish idiot, but a peace loving hippie good for nothing beatnik. I figured that the people would drop the old book in favour of this new one, simmer down a little and just get on with life and love already.
It wasn’t too long after I cursed myself for not knowing your imbecilic nature as of yet. You didn’t adopt the new book and take it to heart, oh no. A group of you broke off with the old and new book (while claiming the old one didn’t count any more), and some of you stayed with the old book, saying the new book was all lies and they would just sit tight and wait for the ‘real’ new book.
And there started my hundred year migraine.
The new book people flourished, spread, thrived, and converted people to believe in the new book by treat, convincing, conniving and threats. Soon they had an empire, but it wasn’t a peace loving beatnik hippie free love pot smoking empire. Oh no.
These people wanted blood.
I admit that while drunk I probably don’t write very well, but COME ON! How can ” You are all sinners” and “He who is without sin cast the first stone” NOT be any clearer? Yet not only did these people kill outsiders, they killed their own too, and for the silliest reasons imaginable.
And so I tried it yet again. Maybe a third book would set balance to the planet. I got smashed on tequila and wrote something akin to the first book, but way bloodier.
Don’t judge. Tequila does some mad things to a man. You’ve all been there. You’ve all woken up to a coyote ugly, and let me tell you this: A thousand years ago just about EVERY woman was a coyote ugly.
Anyways, I think a traveler from the east picked up this vomit soaked book and took it back with him. His people adopted it and their belief in it grew strong.
So what did the people with the middle book do? Went over en mass and started slaughtering the third book people! What the hell! I just don’t get it!
Then the middle book people discovered North American, and started burning innocent women for being something called “witches”. I don’t think I ever mentioned something called “witchcraft” in any of the books. I’ll have to borrow a copy and see for myself. Hey, it’s been a few thousand years and I’ve gone through enough alcohol to power a Linsay Lohan house party. I can’t be expected to remember every detail, ok?
And so it continued. I wrote a book and now a bunch of retards walk around with white shirts and black ties annoying people in their homes. I wrote another and now people won’t get blood transfusions for their sick children. I even had a go at science fiction but a cult grew around that too.
So now, here I sit in my newest disguise as a lowly water quality technician in probably the only relatively sane country left on this stinking planet. I sit here and write this inane blog, wondering if one day someone is going to collect these works and start worshiping poo.
Trust me, it won’t have been the strangest thing to happen.
China Introduces New Techniques for Birth Control
May 25th, 2009
Beijing, China – Birth control has long been a hot ticket item in overcrowded China. Steps such as rewards to parents for limiting to one child were tried, as well as single child legislation, but the populace has kept growing at an unparalleled pace.
However, that all may change with a new program introduced by Zhou Tang, leader of the official opposition party. Tang goes on to explain:
“I got the idea from an American television show I was watching. I’m not sure what it was called but it was a game show with some sort of reanimated geriatric mummy for a host and fat ugly contestants that seemed to be high on speed.
“At the end of every show, reanimated mummy reminds America to control the pet population by having their pets spayed or neutered. And I thought, that is a FANTASTIC idea.”
The program involves a select population of parents bringing their children in for a spaying or neutering. Tang explains the selection process:
“We’re in the testing phases right now. We go to the outlying poorer areas and canvas the parents and children with an intensive four question survey. We then select certain individuals for testing based on their level of intelligence, their looks, personal hygiene and whether or not they give us the willies. If they are an inferior model of Chinese superiority, we give them the snip.”
Tang goes on to tell us that the testing process hasn’t always been smooth.
“In the beginning, it was really easy. You’d just say, hey Ping! Get up on the table! He’d oblige, and thirty seconds later you’d have a boy that couldn’t possibly add to the overcrowding problem. But word spreads fast, and now you have to entice them up there with a handful of rice.”
Compliance issues aren’t the only problem however. Reports are coming in from all other part of China of localized copycat programs. The problem is that as education is limited in most parts of rural China, most health practitioners cannot differentiate between spaying and castration.
The results are disastrous. Without testicles to produce the much needed testosterone, boys take on the appearance of girls, and lose favor with their parents.
“These copy cat castrations are a horrible problem,” says Tang. “Parents lose honor without a son, and these now cast off eunuchs are everywhere. In alleyways, floating down the river, and even hanging out in beauty parlors offering free manicures”.
When asked when the new laws may come into effect, Tang concludes by saying:
“The new spaying and neutering birth control bill has much more testing to be done before it can be passed in congress. Testing is slow going and there is much more information to be gathered before the bill can be presented. We feel that testing on another 458 million children in the outlying poor areas will give us enough information to proceed.”
It’s Like Living With Your Idiot Cousin Effrum
May 22nd, 2009
What do you think when you hear the word Canadian? Super nice? Really friendly? Maple syrup, poutine, hockey and cops riding horses? Is that what you think, eh? You stupid American prick?
Let me tell you all a little sumptin sumptin. Canada is a socialist country. That’s right, socialist. Even our right wingers are bleeding pansies in comparison to the Republican party. We’re practically commies over here. No, not that Russian or Chinese “Our version of Marxism is like a good from far but far from good chick, not nice to see up close and has really bad breath.” It’s more like the “We’re helping people who don’t actually need help so much that pretty soon there’s only going to be one guy working and he’s going to have to pay three point five million percent income tax Marxism”.
Let me explain it another way.
Let’s say that got an education, landed a good job where you worked hard, and bought a nice house and a good working vehicle and filled your refrigerator with good food. Now let’s say that you had a father that you couldn’t say no to, because if he did he’d beat your ass and lock you in a room for the next ten years. Father has just told you that your idiot cousin Effrum is coming to stay with you, forever, and he’s never going to leave.
Now Effrum is living in your house. Everyday you go to work, work hard, and come home dog tired.
Effrum has spent the day eating cheesy poofs and watching soap Operas. Effrum has cranked the A/C to full, turned on every light in the house, and left the shower running just because he can.
He also took a dump in your kitchen sink and complained that you didn’t bring home more cheesy poofs.
You’ve asked Effrum to be more considerate but he bitch slapped you right across the face.
You tell your father all this and he bitch slaps you across the other side of your face, telling you that you’re an insensitive jerk and you’ll probably go to hell.
Your father then tells you that Effrum needs more spending money for “better food”. He kicks you in the nuts, steals $100.00 from your wallet and gives it to Effrum.
Effrum goes out and buys lottery tickets, smokes, beer, and a new video game.
Effrum decides he doesn’t like the fact that you own the house, own the car, and after having worked your ass off for 15 years (while he’s done nothing but gotten progressively fatter and uglier) you finally bought that motorcycle you’ve always wanted. He and his ugly friends get up off their fat asses and protest all the nice houses uptown that people have worked hard for, messing up their lawns and stomping on their geraniums.
The fathers are called, but they do nothing, chastising you for not being sympathetic to the plight of Effrum and his disgusting smelly friends.
Finding out that there’s actually nothing physically wrong with Effrum, you ask him to maybe go out and find a job to help pay for the incredibly huge bills he’s creating at your expense. Effrum tells you to fuck off and takes another dump in the kitchen sink. Father bitch slaps you twice and asks you why you can’t be more understanding.
Later that week, Effrum stomps off downtown and has sex with fourteen different women. He didn’t wear a condom, and ten of the women get pregnant. They’re not quite sure it’s Effrum’s though, because they’d already had sex with at least nine other guys that week.
After the female Effrums squirt out the kid, Father thrashes you to within an inch of your life, takes $500 from your wallet, and rewards the female Effrums for being disgusting whores. He does the same for each kid the female Effrums squirt, only beating you just a bit harder and and taking just a bit more money each time.
So, who are the players?
I’m me. Yes, the average hard working Canadian slob, trying to make it on whatever is left over after the Federal and Provincial governments take 53% of your salary, you’re done paying 13% tax on everything you purchase, and the municipal government finishes taking their huge percentage for property tax.
Who’s Father? Why, father is your benevolent left winged socialist government, working hard for you!
And Effrum is the welfare slob. Did I mention that Effrum is the fourth generation welfare slob? Yes, we’ve already passed three full generations of full time welfare people, most of whom were physically able to work, but just didn’t want to.
And we said to them, “Don’t worry, you don’t’ have to work, because everybody else will just work harder for you.”
While Father is busy feeding the idiotic off your hard earned money, he’s also slipping a few billion into his pocket at the same time, all the while chastising you for being an insensitive jackass.
So Americans, and I’m talking to you: Who do you think is at fault here? Father, Effrum or myself?
And ask yourself this: Is a system that punishes you for contributing and rewards you for leeching ultimately sustainable in the long term?
Think about it, and watch Obama and his band of left wingers carefully. Maybe, just maybe, if you’re quick, lucky, and decisive, you can keep the good Mr. Obama might do, and weed out the left winged idiocy.
Maybe.
Romantic Bullcrap
May 20th, 2009
The smell of alcohol, sweat and shame hung heavy in the night air as I made my way through seas of young, vibrant gyrating bodies. The call had went out, understood by all despite the toxic inebriation that most youth possess on a Saturday night.
The sweet nectar of the barley gods touched my lips not for the first time that night, and as I drank from the glass goblet of the king, she caught my eye.
Skulking, dancing in and out of the shadows she approached me. Her lips, full and red, her breasts swollen and lustful, the haze of inebriation caused other swellings to go by the wayside.
I could think of nothing that I wanted more than to touch my lustful goddess, yet alas her beauty filled the entire backseat of the taxi and I could not help but adore her from the front seat, dazed by what was to come.
Our bodies intertwined in a lustful embrace, we made our way to the bedroom, hardly noticing the appliances falling, crashing around us in our haste to embody the sweet taste of young lust.
Draped over the dresser her clothing was, the folds and billows resembling the most beautiful silk in all of China.
I fell onto her, resting in the soft embrace, reveling in the beauty, every fold, ever dimple, every billow of her satiny body. I slowly made my way down her body, kissing here, nibbling there, stopping to inhale the pungent aroma of womanhood. I stopped, suggesting we move our passion to the shower.
The water cascaded around her body, creating a sheen akin to thousands of beautiful gleaming gemstones. She held the soap in her elegant, bulbous hand, bubbles cascading down her body and silhouetting her generous curves like a waterfall in a beautiful rain forest. Looking, lusting, hoping and praying, she bent over to pick up the soap so lovingly dropped, pausing only to look back at me with a glance of whimsy.
It was morning. The song of a dozen birds swayed me gently awake, the dance of the golden morning sun opened my bleary eyes. I saw my last call
Show me the love!
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