Wednesday, November 23, 2011
A Little Turkey
As your humble narrator prepares to enjoy the holiday in which America pretends we shared peacefully with Native Americans, I read a little Howard Zinn
For boobies. For the lack of Gator updates since he bought Bulgaria in 2008 or so. And for HoHos.
Who do not get a link.
Because HoHos are beyond linkage. They are beyond intertextuality, a pure Other without parallel. And chocolatey.
That fuccen Wee Mon gets all the babes.
Could’ve lived without that photo of Gator.
Must begin cocktail hour early today.
More like Gaytor. Damn, well at least we know he’s a power bottom now. *shudder*
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Seems to me lil’ douches need to douche it up a lil’ bit. Still lame but at least its on a smaller scale.
Fuck Gator!
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Nancy Dreuche got a hat!
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Do you really make money on that Amazon link?
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Fry me a fucking turkey Stackhouse!
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I’,m totally drunk. Doobie time.
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I wonder if the little fuccer runs around telling all the bleeths that their hair smells terrific?
I don’t like dwarfs.
Gator is saying ” Myyy precious…”
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I’m off to the frozen tundra of Massachusetts to visit the family and welcome the return of my “Bahstahn ackzent”. It’s impossible to hang with those people and not end up talking like them.
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I give thanks that I’m not a hippie sharing needles and piss bushes with the mostly misguided OWS-types in New York City . They need a leader, a Bizaro World anti-Michelle Bachman , let’s say Rachel Maddow , then we’ll have to heed their message. Only then will they have any credibility
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A give thanks that I’m not shovelling snow as snow sucks, in no uncertain terms, donkey anus
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I give thanks that when I booked my flight, I got to pick my own seats on line and have an aisle seat near the bathroom although I spend 90% of the time standing to avoid crushing back spasms
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I give thanks to the manufacturers of Vicodin, Oxy, Crown Royal and Soma for above mentioned back spasms . Oh and Midol works, too, thanks for many reasons to those chaps
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I give thanks that we’ll never have to see it when Reverend Chad and Nancy Dreuche finally hook up
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I give thanks for dreamy non-Bleeths such as Rachel Bilson , Gina Carano and Patti Anne Browne
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Find more videos like this on The Activity Pit
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….. they are all on my “Celebrity OK To Fuck If GIven The Chance List” approved by my old lady. Oddly, we both have Heidi Klum on our lists. What’s that about?
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Lastly, I give thanks for Al Gore’s little internet web thing-y mabob invention. It’s how I make a living, it’s where I play when nobody’s at the playground and it’s where I spend every waking hour.
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Time to fly , then eat until I pop the fuccen buttons off my britches. Happy Thanksgiving. Give yer granny all the attention she deserves, ya assholes
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About time you post a little person. No. They are not exempt!
BTW, is it time to replace Gail O’Grady on my “Celebrity OK To Fuck If GIven The Chance List”?.
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She’s holding up okay, right? Right? Am I right here?
A little turkey with a hat on.
I didn’t know Andrew Dice Clay was still around!
I agree with Tall Guy, but I insist on calling them midgets. Fuc ’em, I’m of above normal height.
WTF is that apparition in the background over his left shoulder?
So I’m not feeling creative, so I’ll just steal something funny. FUCKERS.
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“I PICK THE GOD DAMN terror of the fucking gods out of my nose! Pardon my language. But YEEEEEHAW, let the sons of God and man bear witness! Even in the belly of the Thunderbird I’ve been casting out the False Prophets; I’m busting a gut and blowing my O-ring, and ripe to throw a loaf! For I speak only the fucking Truth, and never in my days have I spoken other than! For my every utterance is a lie, including this very one you hear! I say, `Fuck’em if they can’t take a joke!’ By God, `Anything for a laugh’, I say. I am the last remaining Homo Correctus, I am the god damn Man of the Future! I’ll drive a mile so as not to walk a foot; I am a human being of the first god damn water! Yes, I’m the javalina humping junkie that jumped the Men from Mars! I drank the Devil under seven tables, I am too intense to die, I’m insured for acts o’ God and Satan! I was shanghaied by bodiless fiends and alien jews from a corporate galaxy, and got away with their hubcaps! I cannot be tracked on radar! I wear nothing uniform, I wear no god damn uniform! Yes baby, I’m 23 feet tall and have 13 rows o’ teats; I was suckled by a triceratops, I gave the Anti-Virgin a high-protien tonsil wash! I’m a bacteriological weapon, I armed and loaded! I’m a fission reactor, I fart plutonium, power plants are fueled by the sweat from my brow; when they plug me in, the lights go out in Hong Kong! I weigh 666 pounds in zero gravity, come and get me! I’ve sired retarded space bastards across the Cosmos, I cook and eat my dead; YAH-HOOOO, I’m the Unshaven Thorn Tree of the Atlantis Zoo! I pay no taxes! The Devil’s hands are my ideal playground! I hold the Seven-Bladed Windbreaker; the wheels that turn are behind me; I think backwards! I do it for fun! My imagination is a fucking cancer and I’ll pork it before it porks me! The say a godzillion is the highest number there is. Well by God! I count to a godzillion and one! Yes, I’m the purple flower of Hell County, give me wide berth; when I drop my drawers, Mother Nature swoons! I use a python for a prophylactic; I’m thicker, harder and meaner than the Alaskan Pipeline, and carry more spew! I’ll freeze your seed before it hits the bathroom tile! YEE! YEEE! I kidnapped the future and ransomed it for the past, I made Time wait up for me to bleed my lizard! My infernal breath wilts the Tree of Life, I left my spoor on the Rock of Ages, who’ll tear flesh with me, who’ll spill their juice? Who’ll gouge with me, whose candle will I fart out? Whoop! I’m ready! So step aside, all you butt-lipped, neurotic, insecure bespectacled slabs o’ wimp meat! I’m a Crime Fighting Master Criminal, I am Not Insane! I’m a screamer and a laugher, I make a spectacle of myself, I am a sight! My physical type cannot be classified by science, my `familiar’ is a pterodactyl, I feed it dipshits! I communicate without wires or strings! I am a Thuggee, I am feared in the Tongs, I have the Evil Eye, I carry the Mojo Bag; I swam the Bermuda Triangle and didn’t get wet! I circumcize dinosaurs with my teeth and make ’em leave a tip; I change tires with my tongue and my tool! Every night I hock up a lunger and extinguish the Sun! I’m the bigfooted devil of Level 14, who’ll try to blow me down? I’ve packed the brownies of the gods, I leak the Plague from my nether parts, opiates are the mass of my religion, I take drugs! Yes, I’m a rip-snorter, I cram coca leaves right into my arm-veins before they’re picked off the tree! Space monsters cringe at my tread! I wipe the Pyramides off my shoes before I enter my house. I’m fuel-injected, I’ll live forever and remember it afterwords! I’m immune! I’m radioactive! Come on and give me cancer, I’ll spit up the tumor and butter my bread with the juice! I’m supernatural, I bend crowbars with my meat ax and a thought! My droppings bore through the earth and erupt volcanoes in China! Yes, I can drink more wine and stay soberer than all the heathen Hindoos in Asia! YEEE HAW! Gut Blowout! I am a Moray Eel, I am a Komodo Dragon, I am the Killer Whale bereft of its pup! I have a triple backbone, I was sired by the Wolf Man, give me all your Slack! I told Jesus I wouldn’t go to church and He shook my hand! I have my own personal saviors, I change ’em every hour, I don’t give a fuck if there’s life after death, I want to know if there’s even any fucking Slack after death! I am a god damn visionary, I see the future and the past in comic books and wine bottles; I eat black holes for breakfast! I bend my genes and whittle my DNA with the sheer force of my mighty will! I steer my own god damn evolution! I ran ’em out of Heaven and sold it to Hell for a profit! I’m enlightened, I achieved `Nirvana’ and took it home with me. Yip, yip, YEEEEEEE! I’m so ugly the Speed of Light can’t slow me down and Gravity won’t tug at my cuffs! When the Rapture comes, I’ll make ’em wait! They’ll never clean my cage! Now give me some more of…”
(Tape runs out.)
@blah, that’s a jackalope. And happy T-Day Vin. With any luck I will never have to witness a RevChad/ND coupling either. Im thankful for borders and the fact he’s not allow
@blah, that’s a jackalope. And happy T-Day Vin. With any luck I will never have to witness a RevChad/ND coupling either. Im thankful for borders and the fact he’s not allowed in America’s head.
Double post for your displeasure, sorry.
Well, you fuccen hatters, I hope you all have a terrific Thanksgiving Day! Whether you watch some football, down some Wild Turkey, skip it altogether, have a great day!
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And if you need some help cooking your turkey, avoid Stackhouse like the plague (as you would for any other reason) and hire a sexy pin-up girl.
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Yeah, I know posted this before, but it seems fitting again. Maybe because she’s sexy…..
I’m thankful that my daughter is only 6 years old now. Maybe, due to Darwinism, most of the plague will wipe itself out in the coming years. Case in point, the wife and I were leaving Dillards this afternoon when I spotted a herpster bagling and his OWS wannabe bros in his ’84 Olds Cutlass Ciera that must have once been his Granma’s before she went into the home. Anyway, this turd burgler gets out of the driver’s seat, proceeds to the trunk to get to his “bodyspray,” then sprays enough to kill mosquitos in a 2 block radius. We were never closer than 20 feet to him but could still feel the burning in our lungs: the gentle aroma of toluene, rubbing alcohol, and jasmine flavored with manure. They drive on into the afternoon with the undeniable stench of failure following like Pigpen’s little cloud
Thanks for the Gator link, asshole. There goes my second drawstring sphincter. Those things ain’t cheap neither.
But in the spirit of the holidays, I give you “The Duck, badger, and llama with four ears”
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The duck is a special creature who spends all their time in water or air. Contrary to popular belief, this is not cool but the proverbial “butt-cool” does apply at some point. When this phrase does apply, try saying it aloud to see how many people are staring intently at you to sincere sanity.
“What the hell,” said the duck, who had just got out of the water and into the warm frigid air. The sky was a beautiful greed plaid and the trees were maroon plaid, all is badger.
The badger, who upon hearing his name decided to be obnoxious and scare the duck screamed “boo” in the most frightening, unbadgerlike voice. It still sounded pretty badger like, but that’s beside the point (or is it on top of the point, I can never remember.).
The duck upon hearing the ferocious noise of the ferocious badger, decided to be scared and said “oh, oh i am so frightened at this badger being un-badger-like, ooh, ooh, Mister badger, please don’t hurt me.”
Obviously, the badger had never learned about sarcasm, so he was left pondering the duck and his (or her) statement. The duck did not sound frightened, nor did his bodily posture reveal any aspect of being frightened, so the badger was puzzled. Jigsaw puzzled, that is.
While the badger was in mental and physical disarray, the duck made off with all the corner pieces.
The llama slept peacefully under a starry patch work sky. The duck (at that time a mythical creature) crept upon the peaceful, unadorned llama as it snored like a fat man with apnea.
The duck did not like fat men with apnea, so it slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly, (“really slow-like” says the redneck) creeped up and slipped the corners of the badger into all four ears of the llama. And to answer your question, yes the llama had four ears. Earl, lord of ears, llamas, ducks, badgers, other holy animals, and above (or below) all, the mighty Blasphuphmites, gave the llama 4 ears.
(The Wheel of Fortune crowd oohs and ahs)
With the ears of the four corners of badgers (four ears, four corners, get it?) the llama saw lands far away and very close (“but he saw the closer ones more better,” injected the redneck once again.)
The llama got un-heartsick (he didn’t really like it, so he wasn’t “heartsick”) for his home land of Med. Off in the horizon was the land of Yes, and on the opposite horizon was the land of No. Not unjustifiably he was torn between the two horizons (get it? caught, horizon? kind of funny, huh?).
“this is the dawning of the age of Aquarius, age of Aquaaaaaariiiiiuuuuuussss” (there’s a really long, drawn out silence while the llama is singing.)
Altogether now “OKAAAAAY.” (Say it slowly so the llama gets the full effect of the sanity questioning).
“The Singing llama” (sequal of “The Duck, badger and llama with four ears”)
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The llama, now nicknamed the singing llama because of an embarassing incident involving “Age of Aquarius,” marbles, matches, morgues, Melville, and various other things beginning with the letter “M,” decided to travel to the land of Shapar. He didn’t know where Shapar was, but he went there because of Confusion about “Yes” and “No,” and he certainly didn’t want to go to Med. Of Course, he could see Shapar because of the badger corners in his ears, but he was confused because the malicious, mythological, (more “M”s) Duck had screwed up when he (or she; we have to be politically correct or the thought police will hear, and they can be bitchy.) had put the corners in the llama’s ears.
As the llama was confused he decided to yes. Phil took his family out on a lovely day. While pouring alcoholic beverages, he gave his wife and three mutant dysfunctional Kids about a teaspoon each and chugged the rest of the bottle. Later his wife wipped him with a bandicoot.
Ah yes, back to the llama. It died in the desert of life and went to hell. Actually, no, the llama didn’t believe in hell, Christian epithets, ideas and theories are full of shit. So he didn’t die, he didn’t go to hell, and Diet Dr. Pepper really doesn’t taste more like regular Dr. Pepper. Hmph! False advertising is such a bitch.
Anyway, the llama continuing his journey after a long (drug induced?) hiatus, felt that the land of Shapar wasn’t worth going to in the first place. He built up a VW bus from nothing and traveled around to many scattered and trippy Grateful Dead concerts. He didn’t really like the Grateful Dead, but it was the only place that for the price of a ticket you could get stoned.
Not that all the llama thought about was getting stoned, on the contrary, he was bisexual, too. And like a duck, he (or she, it’s that damned PC) multiplied, divided, squared, rooted, and just in general got his brains fucked out. See? There are other things in life besides drugs, namely sex & math.
That brings us to Schools. Schools can actually be kind of cool (Whoa, I rhymed), of course coolness of public instruction depends on 3 things — 1. Coolness of administrations and teachers, 2. Number of Dickheads, and 3. Doug. Doug overrides all else. If Doug goes to your school, it has to be cool.
I have no idea who wrote that.
I for one will spend Thanksgiving engaging in the intellectual pursuits.
I want me some of that chin and juice…
GAY tor is right…..holy shit, he exists?
Gator looked like a diseased turkey.
@ Jacques, If it were a rabbi’s badger the duck would have been circumsised and eaten whole.
The First Thanksgiving
The Boat People decided to leave the oppression and slavery of European Totalitarianism where they were forced to live in dank, miserable hovels, watching Monty Python re-runs on 19” black and white televisions and spending their days in piss-drenched squalor. They braved the icy chill of the North Atlantic with it’s hurricane winds and sea serpents out of the basic human yearning to be free. Against all odds, they landed on and occupied Plymouth Rock for months in flea-ridden sleeping bags, smoking hardscrabble reefer and listening to Jeff Beck and Bob Dylan on pre-electronic iPods. When the hazy days of summer gave way to the autumnal chill of late November, they decided it was time for our the Pilgrims to show the heathens how to party
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The powerful costal savages had been living an idyllic existence eating organic vegetables, constructing canoes out of fifty-five gallon oil drums and brutalizing the weaker, Gandhi-leaning Hindu Indians with primitive stone weaponry and sharp, spiritual dogma which the used to lacerate their stomachs. They decorated their huts with the scalps and dried genitals of the vanquished foes and turned their women and small boys into sex-slaves.
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The celebration began, dead deer and diseased birds were piled high on picnic tables and the beer and Nyquil flowed freely from birch bark vessels hung high in the trees. Young lads and savages played Frisbee and touch football in woodland clearings while a Polka band played dance music deep into the moonlit night. Young, fat squaws were dragged giggling and kicking into the forest to be courted, cajoled and injected with semen and syphilis. A good time was had by all.
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That small Jamestown settlement soon became a great and prosperous nation, complete with a mighty industrial base, interstate highways, political scandals, bungee jumping, Coldplay, breast enlargement, vaginal mesh lawsuits and clinical depression.
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The Indians fared much better as they were pushed ever westward at the point of muskets and artillery shells, until finally coming to rest in Government reservations complete with house trailers and health clinics. There they made a living selling rubber tomahawks, plastic trinkets and tobacco products to fat, indifferent tourists in Chevrolets, and went on to find marginal employment in the glamorous, fast-paced world of the Casino Gambling Industry..
Everyone’s getting ready to cross the border for the American shopping nonsense tomorrow. For being Persona Non Grata in the U.S. at the present time, I am thankful.
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I am also thankful for, in consecutive order, the following:
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-Cheap liquor delivery services.
-The familiy’s successful weight-loss with the proven Kroeger Chili Diet. Fucking gluttonnous banshies
-Nancy Dreuche’s guest attendance today at the John Wayne Gacy’s Thankgiving Day Parade
-The return of full erections twice a week
-My wife’s salary
-The big bag of Purple Kush I bought
-Nickelback’s ballyhooed arrearance in Detroit today
-The T.V. I am replacing the one which I will be watching the football game on
-Axes
-Gasoline
-Burn pernit for my firepit in the Druid circle in the grove where the soiled remain of the T.V. will be sacraficed to Cee-Lo Greens colon polyps
-My Jesus-sized cock
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Lions
“Born in The USA” by Douche Springsteen should be cured right after Hermits post.
Rev Chad, that is a great order. I might put the bag of purple cush a little higher.
(cued).