Today being 11/11/11 seems to freaking people the fuck out. Normally I'm a bit of a numerology guy, but as right now I'm too fucking lazy, I will simply refer you to the Arthurian Lit Numerology Paper Disaster of '94.And 10/10/10:
One thing I've learned from Facebook: Everybody else is running marathons. Literally. Wtf?And 9/9/9:
Jack Kingston of GA:
In its day, czarist Russia had just 18 czars in 300 years. In just seven months, President Obama has nearly doubled that number.Hey, if it's the semblance of any connections to Russia they're worried about, why doesn't Obama just change the title from "czar" to, oh, I dunno..."puppy"?
"Dammit, we're gonna get rid of the Czar of Energy, and-"
"You mean the Puppy of Energy."
"Well, we need him out-"
"Whoa, whoa...WHOA!! You don't like PUPPIES??? What the fuck is wrong with you, are you even human?"
oooooh, better yet, use "Jesus"!!!! "Whoa, whoa...WHOA!! You mean our Jesus of Energy? You don't like JESUS???!!!!!!"
"Freedom" would work too. But let's start with "puppy"!!
Obama, it's still early enough to work this into your speech tonight!!!!!
And 8/8/8:
I see that since an election's coming up, David Duke's name has popped up again. Funny how that seems to happen.And 7/7/7:
But if you're David Duke, how much must it suck to be the FORMER leader of the KKK? Really, once you've been the Grand Wizard, there's no where to go is there? I would think it'd be hard to not think your best years of racism were already behind you - surely as the leader of the KKK, you've peaked. Funny, right - who woulda thought that even racism had a ceiling? How depressing.
"Mr. Duke I'm sorry, but you're way overqualified for this position."
"I'll do anything; I'll hand-make all the torches, I'll throw bricks through windows early in the morning and burn down barber shops late at night. Whatever needs to be done, I just wanna work."
"I'm sorry. Thanks for coming anyway."
"I'll do anything...I'll work for free!"
"Hey, THOSE were the days, right?"
Poor David. Hang in there, buddy!
I’ve just about had it with fucking Yahoo. I’m sorry, I mean Yahoo! For years now I’ve been doing a slow burn thanks to their fucking mail. Instead of a simple one click, it takes like 50 fucking windows to actually get to your mail. After filling in your name/password for the 90000th time in this life, you go to “My Mail.” After clicking, does it go to my mail? Of course not, now I get to look at another page and then have to click on “Check mail.” Cause I guess when I had clicked “My mail” before, I really wasn’t interested in actually seeing, you know...my mail. So now it’s another page, as if it’s fucking saying “seriously, you sure you wanna check your mail? I dunnooooo.........” For fuck’s sake, after popping in my name/password can I fucking get onto the first of my many, MANY emails that promise me a new mortgage while fucking teenage barn animals who enlarge my dick? Please? All these windows to get to my inbox; 3 fucking superfluous clicks to check my mail. Hell, with only two clicks I can have a Portugese teen show up at my place for a lil “fucky-fucky.” The two clicks being, of course, me un-handcuffing her from the radiator under my bed. Hey, FUCK peninsulas!!And 6/6/6...there was no posts on that day, but this one was a few days later. Don't like it, you can eattabagofdicks:
And now I’ve playing online Chess thru Yahoo and it’s the same shit. Click and start playing? Nah. Click “game.” Then “board game.” Then “chess.” Then “play now?” then “click here to continue!” then "boy, don't Asians have tiny dicks!" to “play now!” then it’s another 5 fucking clicks to find a fucking opponent not named shungholovespussy_1988. Fucking maddening.
A Walk With Xmastme as a Young Buck
My brother’s 4th birthday, I’m 2 ½ years old. This is the debut of one of my all-time moves: “Hey, look over there!” as my little mitts work their way to the big fat cake. Even at 4, my brother’s “smile” face is apparently the same as his “I’m gonna beat the fuck out of Xmastime” face. Interesting.
….as this little photo shoot has passed the 90-second mark I am now about to eat my plate. And I have no idea who the fuck these people are behind us, or how that little kid popped in since the first one was taken. Asshole.
This is where our gang would hang out, the stairs. We’d smoke Camels and make fun of Puerto Ricans passing by. Every once in a while I’d take my girl Marlo in the red jumper up to “the top of the stairs,” if you know what I mean. Then I’d come down and let the other fellas smell my arm. We were a tough gang. But then, you’d hafta be with those fucking outfits, even in 1974. Fore!
Here’s me on the kitchen counter. Apprently I’ve stumbled upon a jar that has a human brain in it. Nice. You people freakin out over something in this one? Maybe something in this photo that seems a bit familiar to you? Anything? …..you are correct, that is the very same jacket I wear to this day. Guess they made clothes tuffer in the 70s.
Ps – before you get too far into how cute I look in this one, you should know that inside the jacket is a Playboy my dad stole from Safeway and jammed in there. My first ever job: porn mule. Great.
Here’s my brother about to stab me in the chest because he hated how the breeze sailed through my golden, curly locks on a windy day. This was a game my mother would have us play, called “Go Stand in the Dirt Field in the Baking Heat with No Shoes on for 8 Hours Until Your Father and I Come Home from Work.” Ahhhhh….great times. Also, if you zoom in you can see my fly is open; must’ve been the early stages of me developing my “Elephant” skit (pull out pants pockets for the ears, let the mouse outta the house for the trunk, hilarity ensues.) I’m choking up!!!!
“Boy! Get that shirt off, this strange old man wants to take a picture with you boys!!! Smile!”
I have no idea who this person is. I hope it at least seemed normal at the time. Having a strange old man come over and be your kids’ “boyfriend”, I mean. Hmm.
“Alllllllright boys, party’s over….into the woods now. Camon, let’s go.”
Ah yes. Kindergarten!!!! Fresh-faced!! Whole world ahead of me!!!!
29 years later. Wow. Is this even human? Good lord. My belated apologies to Anna on the right for what Im sure was a less than spectacular lovemaking session that followed. Well, I'm assumed that's what we did afterwards. After being baked to a crisp in the broiling sun and pounding about 8 containers of Bud I'm usually "frisky." Ugh.
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