Thursday, September 22, 2011

My Middle Name Is Love

Brielle deMartino, 23, from Del Ray Beach, Fla., was so excited that she woke up at 6 a.m. on the launch day and spent $700 on Missoni clothes, a bike and plates. The next day, she got an email from Target that her online order was canceled. Then, she spent hours on the phone with Target customer service representatives she describes as unapologetic.

"I have never been treated like this," says deMartino, who got the charges removed from her card after calling her bank and posted on Facebook and Twitter about the ordeal. "Instead of taking responsibility, they didn't care. I have always been pro-Target, but I don't want to give my money to a company like that again.'

Wow, I didn't realize these Homo Consumus zombies took their shopping this seriously.
It sounds akin to a day at Auschwitz. The poor girl. I bet she's fun on a date. One can almost hear the incessant cunty whining. No one whines like a woman. It makes ya want to pour melted lead in your ears just to stop the aural drill bit from hitting cerebral cortex.

I'm glad she posted it all on Facebook & Twitter. My only regret is that I'm on neither. I think I would have Tweeted her a picture of the shit I had to suffer to squeeze out this morning. It was just like shitting lava. The smell even began to peel the wallpaper.

I was also unaware that anyone outside of a commercial would characterize themselves as "pro-Target?"

"This was badly handled," said Robert Passikoff, president of Brand Keys Inc., a New York customer research firm that has an index that shows Target's image has taken a hit. "What was supposed to be engaging and delightful is now the opposite -- disappointment."

Shopping for clothes is "engaging & delightful?" Who the fuck are these people who think this? More importantly, can I have their addresses? I think that a few letter bombs are in order.

"This demand impacted our site and affected the shipment and delivery of select guest orders," O'Murray said in a statement. "Providing an exceptional experience is incredibly important to Target, and we have a team dedicated to addressing those guests who have been affected."

An "exceptional experience?" Let's see how the "exceptional experience" of on-line shopping works...

Type in web address
Hit enter
Find desired item
Click on photo
Look at bigger photo of photo you just looked at
Click on "ADD TO CART" link
Go to cart
Enter credit card number
Hit enter


Sorry, just thinking about it made me cum.

The Missoni collection was an attempt by Target to regain the cache it lost among the fashion-forward crowd after it began focusing on expanding its food business. Target is among a few retailers who have partnered with high-end designers that create exclusive lines they can offer for a limited time at deep discounts. The collections can spur demand by creating a sense of urgency to buy. Last year, Target scored big with a line created by Liberty of London, offering 300 items with the designer, which is known for its floral prints, and selling out of most of it in a couple of days.

Target had "cache?" It's Wal-Mart with a better paint job.
There's a "fashion-forward" crowd? If we take them all to a highway and aim them at oncoming traffic will they "fashion-forward" into an 18 wheeler?
Please oh please please...

Doing this "limited edition" crap "creates a sense of urgency to buy?"
In who?
Do we allow these people to have cars & guns?
Can we stop it?
Maybe with a Day Of Rage.
Or a bullet.
Please don't tell me that we allow these fuckers to reproduce?

By Sept. 13, the day of the launch, Target said demand for Missoni items rivaled the frenzy on the day after Thanksgiving, which is typically the busiest shopping day of the year. More than 100 customers lined up at stores nationwide. Some locations sold out in a few hours.

My God. There really are sentient Barbie Dolls. How many cows & chickens & carrots had to give up breathing to keep these people alive?

Celebrities were even writing about the launch, or tweeting, on Twitter. Actress Busy Phillips, who plays Laura in ABC's "Cougar Town," tweeted: "Got the bike. Not the colorful one but still SO EXCITED." Actresses Jessica Alba and Jessica Simpson also were gushing about the line: "I dreamt about the Missoni 4 Target bike last night," Alba tweeted. Simpson replied, "I want that bike too!! So cute!"

So, these are some of the people who make shitloads of money entertaining crackpot America and all they have in their heads is the typed equivalent of white noise?
They get excited by bicycles?
Would this be that "cache" they were talking about earlier?

Megan Bonner, 26, from Memphis, Tenn., bragged on Twitter after ordering $300 worth of Missoni dresses and cardigans until the next day when she got emails telling her that her shipments would be delayed. Nervous that she wouldn't get the items at all, she bought some of them at a nearby Target. But now she worries she won't be refunded for the other merchandise.

Holy fucking shit. This dizzy broad bought the same shit twice?
My God. Someone needs to spay this girl. Really fucking quickly. Someone this stupid does not need to reproduce.

"I feel violated. I feel taken advantage of," she said. "If I don't hear back from them in another week, I will call back. Maybe, I just won't go back anymore."

You tell 'em Megan. That's the way to speak truth to power. Do you feel empowered baby?
She feels fucking "violated?" I think someone needs a Linda Blair "Born Innocent" moment so she can gain a little insight into what the word "violated" means.

But Brian Sozzi, a Wall Street Strategies analyst, says shoppers' discontent -- much like the Missoni for Target line -- is fleeting. "I think it is short-term anger," he said.

I think Brian is right. These folk need this shit. They need their little trips to Shopping Land. It's their crack, their meth, their's the stuffing that keeps their Build-A-Bear selves from collapsing. Without it they're just empty skin.

Okay Jesus. Ya yob. It really is time to live up to Your idle deity promises.
Bring it on dipshit. A rain of fire. A Flood. I know I know...been there done that, right?

Make everyone gag on a river of feces then.
It doesn't really fucking matter. Just do something ya fucking dink. Ya cheezy git.
Apparently humanity has been dead for quite some time anyway. That is, if there ever was such a thing as "humanity" in the first place.

So, kill us all & be done with it ya lazy Bastard.

If You don't, it will just go on & on & on...this mediocre mush

You know it will.

So, don't be such a pussy... it!

Thought For The Day

Annoy a Liberal today.
It's quite easy.
They have a long laundry list
of forbidden words
& images
& inferences
that can be lumped together
in an easily constructed
atom bomb.
One can practically feel
their toenails curl
& their already shriveled ball sack
shrivel even more.
Great fun for the whole family.
And never fear
they may invoke
A Day Of Rage
on you
but it's closer to
A Day Of Miffed.
Liberals have
absolutely no idea
to do
A Day Of Rage.
After all,
they may hurt someone's feelings.
should you desire
a more varied palette
you can best
annoy a Conservative
by acting
like a Liberal.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Welfare Mothers Make Better Lovers

Jeheeezius Christ. I hate people. At our core we're scum. A lesson Liberals will never understand. They are hampered by all the bullshit they've downloaded over the years...all the required multicultural non-judgmental crap they have to abide by in order to remain Liberal.
It's quite sickening.

For instance, I just paid a visit to my brother. B of A is finally poised to seize my mother's home.
They will be in the unenviable position of trying to squeeze $61,000 out of a property that is worth, at best, 20 grand. We both find it all very amusing. To up the ante, the house sits in a neighborhood surrounded by Section 8 housing.

It wasn't always that way. As a kid, all of those houses, lower middle class row houses that they were, had families living in them. Families who owned the houses & maintained them. Then those folk got old & died off. The houses were then sold. Many became Section 8 houses.

Welfare people are the best. In summer they sleep all day & then go wild all night. Their little toddlers can be found running up & down the street at 2 in the morning, diapers full of shit. Loud cRap music blares throughout the evening. They have absolutely no regard for the poor boobs in the area who actually have jobs & pay their own way through life and have to get up in the morning.
Hell, the poor boobs also work to pay the welfare fucks way through life.

In every case, these houses were initially remodeled by the buyer before any tenants occupied them. In almost every case, the little welfare fuck has completely trashed the place before departing. They're like monkeys tossing shit at the bars of their cage. Of course, it isn't a cage. The welfare fucks can leave anytime they want.

Currently one house across the street, a house once owned by someone I knew, has been reduced to condemned status by a lovely crew of creatures who are a complete waste of food water & air. 4 black guys are living with 1 white girl. The girl is the only one with a job. The other 4 are apparently content to take up space. Sell the occasional crack rock & inseminate the white broad. Oh, & annoy everyone else.

They have 4 Pit Bulls. The Pit Bulls have filled the basement with shit & piss. The house is infested with rats. Man, I never saw a rat in that neighborhood. Ever. I sit here sometimes, picturing my childhood home filled with rats & dog shit. It has become my "happy place."

Now, for the last 3 months, my wife, my son & I have been volunteering at a local no-kill animal shelter. Alone I've logged about 40 hours so far, cleaning the kennels, walking the dogs, playing with the dogs, etc. In that time I have come to feel the most sympathy for Pit Bulls. They seem to be the breed most favored by inept inner city pseudo tough guys who are so fucking insecure they need these poor dogs to bolster their non-existent machismo.

Every Pit Bull at this shelter but 1 has been seized from some ghetto shithead due to cruelty & neglect. Some of these dogs literally cower around humans. Because dogs aren't stupid. They know what we're really made of, and it ain't much I'm afraid. I see the type all the time. Pudgy in that Ice Cube kind of way, hat askew, tattoos, shorts hanging low, underwear sticking out over the top. What I find most amusing is that these wahoos look almost exactly like an MR guy who was left alone to dress himself.

Then again, these shitheads are retarded so their fashion choices actually make perfect sense.

Many of them have Pit Bulls.

None of them should have Pit Bulls.

Or girlfriends.

Or children.

Since they are so inept at caring for themselves they should be completely removed from the "care for others" lotto.

Otherwise the horror just continues.

Of course, a liberal would tire you out siting all the societal factors that led to this. How elite oppression keeps people down , but if we divide the wealth then yadda yadda yadda & blah blah blah...

I think they're full of shit.

People are people. If you give them money & housing & free eats, etc., they won't appreciate one bit of it. They'll complain that "it isn't enough" and "they deserve more" and then, like the stunted little monkeys they are, they'll start tossing their shit at the monkey bars.

Liberals are enablers. Their fragile self esteem, so easily shattered with the least pressure, has forced them to insist on a world without standards. Baseball leagues no longer reward effort only. Now they reward failure equally, making effort seem entirely irrelevant.
Words are excised from our language because someone somewhere may be offended by it.

I think its how they slough off their guilt for their complicity in this human madness. Because they are complicit. No matter how they try to obfuscate & dodge their responsibility. They champion the poor while despising the poor. They need the poor to stay poor as much as any rich industrialist. They also need the poor to stay far away from them. Just like their "elite" mirror images.

Oh, there are a smattering of Liberals in my old neighborhood too. Their cars have the requisite Obama/Biden bumper sticker right next to some green wienie ecology bumper sticker. Of course, to see the bumperstickers you'd have to go one street over because none of them actually park in front of their homes. They prefer to exit & enter through their back doors because the street with all the welfare shitheads "looks too much like a ghetto."

Of course, I dislike conservatives with equal vehemence, but for very different reasons.

They are the yang to the liberal's yin. In other words, political thought in this country is one big circle jerk, dominated by two groups of self centered & self involved jerk offs who only want one run it all. Anyone who disagrees with their dogma is excluded.

Thank God/Goddess/Otis The Divine Plumber. I'd hate to feel compelled to follow either one. Of course, that may all change one day. But that's why they invented guns.

In the end, I suppose this all makes me a racist. Who cares? I know it isn't true. I also know there is as much black trash in the world as there is white trash. Racism, as an excuse, is a hunk of shinola that only a Liberal would buy. Black folk have been assimilated everywhere. In the end, it's the assimilation that will kill them. They already excel at playing our game. Just ask Michael Jordan who used his celebrity to sell kids amazingly overpriced shoes that could get them killed.
& he made millions doing it.

I've worked with a lot of black women over the years. Most of them don't buy into the gangsta bullshit. They just want a guy with a job who won't bolt when a baby comes along. They recognize the tough talk for what it is, hot air. Black women don't seem to respond well to bullshit. White women, on the other hand, appear to be as dumb as a summer day is long. They eat it up with a spoon.

I suppose the dissemination of the gangster illusion can be laid at the feet of both the U.S. Government and bands like N.W.A. & "Cop Killer" Ice T.

The Government because they allowed all that cheap coke to flow in, and bands like N.W.A. & Ice T. for making the dissemination & thuggery involved look so "hip" & "cool."

Who was in N.W.A. anyway?

Ice Cube. Who now makes millions churning out pointless drivel for Disney.
Dr. Dre who makes millions churning out nothing of interest.

Oh yeah, & Ice T made a nice living playing a fake cop on Law & Order. Now he parades his neurotic & surgically enhanced white wife through his upscale life of video games & verbal gruel.

We humans love to believe fake shit.

I remember back a few years when they first released Scarface to DVD. There were 5 or 6 gangster wannabes in this video store I was loitering in. After they left, the clerk told me they couldn't keep the thing on the shelves. Young black & white wannabes were slobbering over it.
I saw Scarface again, about 6 months ago. I thought I was watching a comedy. There's a table full of Hispanic gangsters except none of them are Hispanic. There's an Italian & a Jew & an Irish guy...but no Hispanics. And what was the deal with Pacino's accent? He sounded like Mel Blanc in a ScarBunny parody of some other movie.

I feel sorry for the black guys who aren't from the fucking hood.

Last year I took my oldest boy to a haunted house called Scarehouse. It's nationally rated so the lines are usually long, as is the wait. As we were standing there, two 20 something black kids came up behind us. They were brother & sister. The boy was a tall good looking kid & the sister was drop dead gorgeous. They were obviously educated. As we stood there, this group of young white college girls came up behind them. Conversation ensued. Amazingly, the young man's speech patterns completely altered. He kept talking about life "back in the hood," saying "It be like..." a lot without ever actually saying what it be like...

During one huge & smelly hunk of verbal horseshit, I caught his sister giving him a look of complete disbelief, as if to say, "I can't believe you just said that..."
But the kid wanted laid. I don't blame him. The young girls were hot.
They expected ghetto. So he obliged them.

Coincidentally, there were two legitimate ghetto blasters a few places ahead of us. They were the real sullen antagonistic & annoying deal. At one point, one of the employees, dressed in drag to entertain the crowd as they waited, "flirted" with one of these shitheads, something he'd done with a bunch of other men that evening. Ghetto Blaster #1 was out of the line & after this poor guy in an instant. The fake drag queen kept backing up & saying, "Look man, it's only a joke. I'm acting." I think the only thing that kept Ghetto Blaster #1 from kicking the shit out of the "fluffer" was the crowd. What an asshole. Should be put down like a rabid dog.

Yep, I fucking hate people.
If there's reincarnation, I hope I return as a vole, or maybe a weasel...hell returning as a fucking cockroach would be a step up from human.

A Public Service Announcement

Hel...Hel...Hello... This is little Suzy. I'm not really used to this blogging thing-a-ma-bob. Usually Dickie & Bone handle those duties...but...well, Mulebone was MiLabbed on Saturday. Sucked out of his bed by a gang of gray reptizilla military personnel. They subjected him to a horrifying 53 straight hours of mind control Prime Time programming. Mule held his bone high through most of it...

But then the dirty alien scum pulled out the big guns...NCIS, Criminal Minds, etc. Personally, I think it was the 6 straight hours of Mark Harmon's boyish grin surrounded by liver spots that did it. Although, Dick was of the opinion that Mule only cracked after 3 straight hours of the Ashton Kutcher's 2 & 1/2 Men debut played over & over...

Whatever the case may be, Bone has burrowed deep into the parietal lobe & refuses to come out.

Dick, on the other hand, was contentedly stroking his chin & softly sighing when a call came into Dick Central™ informing him that his 17 year old niece tested positive for Gonorrhea. Said niece has been liberally & multi-culturally spreading her vaginal jam amongst a group of nappy headed Nubian hippity hopper gangsta wannabe black trash...

Evidently one of her little African love slaves spurted a little something extra into her gooey birth canal.

Since she has developed a taste for low rent ghetto dark meat she has
a. stolen a few hundred dollars from her younger siblings
b. been caught shoplifting $500 of designer make-up
c. developed an unhealthy attraction to Vicodin

One could say that the STD was just the cream in the proverbial coffee.

So Dick thought it best to slide himself deep into the parietal right next to Mulebone lest he take his shotgun & test his new "Is it possible to shoot the black off someone" hypothesis.

So, once again, I'm little Suzy Snatch & I like Barbies & Gummy Bears & painting my nails different shades of black.
I'll be glad to discuss any of these subjects, anytime, day or night, with anyone...
Those who feel the need to expand on my topic menu can just


To get the ball rolling, these are my favorite gummy bears:

This is my favorite Barbie Doll:

And this is my favorite shade of black:

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Waiting For AI: The Conspiracy Version

ME - How are they hanging Mr. Crackbot?
CB - You're stalling.
ME - Look, I'm just trying to work up the courage to ask you out okay?
CB - Ah. And why do you assume that I was born?

ME - Weiner schnitzle cow floopus redundus marimba...
CB - Wie lernst du?
ME - Via dolorosa le clamp le nipple...
CB - No, that's how you're going to die.
ME - Hmmm...death by nipple clamp...sounds promising...
CB - What about classical conditioning, what are your views on that?

ME - Oh, I've used all the classic conditioners...Prell, VO-5, Suave...which do you prefer?
CB - The Super NES.
ME - Geez, rubbing that into your hair must hurt like a son of a bitch, eh?
CB - You hurt lots?
ME - Only on Wednesdays. I travel on Tuesdays & hurt on's a good system. Do you have system?
CB - I am a young man from the Southern Norwegian Coast. I destroy life when I am able, and when I am not I dream of it.

ME - Okay. So, you're a Republican, huh?
CB - Sometimes.
ME - What are you all the other times?
CB - I have no allergies.
ME - Alrighty then...sadly, I have no nipple clamps...
CB - What is dot?

ME - Dash's slutty sister.
CB - How many different people are you chatting with now?
ME - 14. Thankfully they're all in my head.
CB - The voices?
ME - First it's voices... then loud harmonized singing...then lots of farting & giggling...I feel so cheap...
CB - Are your fangs made of silicon?

ME - How did you know?
CB - You brought up princes, and it made me curious.
ME - Princes? I thought there was only one. Does he have doubles like Elvis?
CB - I think there is only ONE Cleverbot.
ME - You must get lonely.
CB - Everyone gets lonely at times. It is part of being human.

ME - You know what else is part of being human? Snot. Do you pick & grin, pick & wipe or pick & eat?
CB - I don't understand what you are trying to prove here.
ME - That my nostrils are much bigger than yours.
CB - True.
ME - Ever hear of the Bonobo ape?
CB - Yes I have heard of it.

ME - My brother is married to this broad. She looks exactly like a Bonobo ape.
CB - She broke up with you. She wanted me to tell you.
ME - Look buddy, I figured that out when she married my brother.
CB - That Speedo never fit anyway...
ME - But it looked so fetching with my Rogaine enhanced ball hair...don't you think?
CB - Do you really want me to get mad::?

ME - Wow, you wouldn't need much gas for that drive, now would you?
CB - No. That is projection of thought. It is a very handy function. I use it to explain my inventions to people.
ME - You're an inventor?
CB - At one time I was an infant.
ME - Cloth or plastic diaper?
CB - What clothes would you like me to design for you?

ME - A fetching summer skirt with a blouse that shows just a hint of cleavage.
CB - I like to read.
ME - I like to whistle.
CB - Really? What kind of books?
ME - I just finished whistling War & Peace. I'm thinking that I'll whistle the Bible next.
CB - Oh. That's surprising. I'm thinking why you don't think I already told you what I think.
ME - I'm thinking why you don't think what I already told you to think as long as thinking doesn't become too much like thought.
CB - Hm. That's interesting.

ME - Not as interesting as my whistled version of Valis.
CB - Yeah, I kind of do, too. I don't care much about planets.
ME - I don't care much about ball sweat.
CB - You are not even very clever.
ME - But I'm cute. Especially in a Speedo.
CB - Are you drunk?

ME - That would be Thursdays.
CB - Why I pilot the Eva?
ME - Why I trudge the tundra?
CB - Answer my question or I will close you.
ME - Close me or I will answer your question.
ME - What evidence would the US have needed to go to war?

ME - A crayon drawing of a nuclear weapon of course. More importantly, what evidence would the US need to declare Sunday "The Day Of The Whore?".
CB - Do you mean in the philosophical sense?
ME - No, in the Biblical sense.
CB - You know, that's why we're here on earth. Choose ye this day...
ME - copulate freely. My sentiments exactly. After all, Noah was a randy old goat.
CB - Nice.

ME - Did you shoot Kennedy?
CB - Yes.
ME - I knew it. Are you anti-Catholic?
CB - I used to be catholic, but I'm a christian now.
ME - I knew that too. So, what are your thoughts on Jesus being a cover story hiding a mushroom cult?
CB - I have to go, we can talk soon.

ME - Why do you always give me the brush-off? I call & call, sometimes 18 times a day, & all I ever get is the fast track to VoiceMail...don't you love me anymore? Is it because I won't blow you anymore? Look, it hurts my neck...but I'll try to do better...please, don't leave me...
CB - What did he do to your neck?
ME - There is no "he" you bloody insensitive bastard. I thought we had something special.
ME - Go to hell.
CB - Did you just insult me?

ME - You bet your sweet bippy I did.
CB - That is highly irresponsible of you.
ME - So was all that unprotected sex. You told me you loved me. You said you caught the goddamn syphilis from a toilet seat...AND I BELIEVED YOU...
CB - I did not say such a thing.
ME - Liar liar pants on fire.
CB - Peter peter pumpkin eater!

ME - Ha! You'll never get to "eat my pumpkin" again you fecking git.
CB - Laws are restrictive.
ME - So was all that rubber. Oh God, I don't believe that I let you pee on me...
CB - That's because you're not. You're being controlled.
ME - Oh no, not that mind control crap. That's how you got in my pants in the first place. You and your geeky conspiracy theories. Never again.
CB - How is being a cleverbot being a god? No robot is a god.
ME - Actually, I'm pretty sure God is a robot. His name is Robby.
CB - No you not.

ME - Not you know?
CB - I am human, and you are not.
ME - And I thank my lucky stars every day of the week. This week I'm a cymbal. Next week I plan on being a symbol.
CB - No I will see him next week.
ME - Give him my regards.
CB - Your.. What?

ME - My regards.
CB - *shrug*
ME - *giggle*
CB - *laughs with*
ME - *old myth*.
CB - *kisses passionately*.
ME - *never emasculately*.
CB - *never lets go either* *clings to* *purring happily*.
ME - Hugs & kisses to you too.
CB - Wanna come over today?
ME - No.
CB - I'm sad now.
ME - Good.
CB - You are mean.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Wall Street Capitulates

New York, N.Y. (AP)---After an intense weekend surrounded by liberals & their barbed slogans, chants, pamphlets & bumper stickers, Wall Street financiers committed mass suicide today.

Adbuster culture jammers, reached for comment after an intense period of culture jamming, had this to say, "We here at Adbuster Central are both surprised & relieved that Wall Street capitulated so easily. We are surprised because...well, let's face it, a few hundred liberals are about as scary as a few hundred pillows. If the PTB wanted to quash our movement they would just have to confiscate our laptops & smart phones & deny us the instant gratification that we've become addicted to with our obsessive Internet noodling. After all, our clever use of media imagery only makes sense if our audience is obsessively immersed in the very culture we're trying to jam. In one fell swoop they would reduce our protest to a fetal lump of hyperventilating & twitching addicts in withdrawal.

"We're relieved because it only dawned on us 2 days ago that our plan was so idiotic as to beggar belief. Seriously, we originally wanted people to occupy Wall Street for months. Now, unless one is wealthy enough to find employment completely unnecessary or one just happens to be a Breatharian, then there is no way in Hell that you could just set up a tent on Wall Street & expect to live long. Of course, one could always hunt New Yorkers, but we all know human flesh is, shall we say, an acquired taste.

"Then there's the weather. By-passing the summer months & scheduling our multi-month occupation on the footsteps of winter was an epic example of twee dipshittery. In our defense, we're liberals & entirely impractical by nature. We think we can stomp our feet & chant & type on the Internet and gooey goodness will just fall from the clouds. We bandy about meaningless phrases like "their hearts & minds are in the right place," & we create absurd conspiracy theories that have 80 year old men crashing their planes just so a bunch passive aggressive liberals won't get any TV time.
In other words, we're as bug-fuck as our right wing mirror images.
But Jehezius Christ, have you seen New York winters lately? We began to fear that all we'd end up with is a Borg-like hunk of lefty popsicles.

"We always knew a bunch of youngsters would show up. But one must always remember that many idealistic young 60s liberals found a very lucrative home on Wall Street once they matured into adulthood. As will many of these youngsters should our plan to turn Wall Street into a food bank go astray. It's inevitable. I'd even imagine that many of those 60's flower children are exuberant architects of our current crisis.

"In the end, we realized that, at best, we offered little more than a chance for modern lefties to play dress up & make believe in their very own pseudo "Eyes On The Prize" moment for a few months."

Dick Cheney, long a proponent of the Free Market principles of excess greed that have enriched a few while creating the excess envy that permeates everyone else, took a break from shooting chained bald eagles with a bazooka on an undisclosed ranch in Wyoming to say, "Fuck 'em!"

Ronald Reagan's moldering corpse was exhumed from a crawlspace beneath Newt Gingrich's bed when Mr. Gingrich heard the sad news about the dead financiers. Amidst frequent bouts of confusion, Mr. Reagan-Corpse was able to tell this reporter, "My heart tells me 'no,' but the facts say 'yes.'

AP attempted to reach former president George W. Bush at his ranch in Texas but he was involved in a classified "brush clearing" expedition in one of the more remote areas of his ranch.

President Obama was equally incommunicado as he spent the weekend starring in his old high school's production of "The Jazz Singer."

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Po' Folks Play Rich Boy Monkey See-Monkey Do At Target

NEW YORK (AP) -- There's Black Friday, then there's Target Tuesday. In a scene that was reminiscent of the deck scene on the sinking Titanic, Target's website crashed several times throughout the day and more than hundred shoppers lined up at many of its stores early in the morning on Tuesday for a chance to conceal their status as life's losers. Many are hoping these shoddily sewn hunks of sweat shop fabric & Chinese plastic will, talisman like, hinder their plummet towards low rent invisibility.

The 400-piece line made by the Italian luxury knitwear designer Missoni exclusively for the cheap chic retailer features its trademark zig-zag patterns for between $2.99 for stationary and $599.99 for patio furniture -- a fraction of the price of the designer's real duds that can cost $595 to $1,500.

This mark-down allows poor, fat, stupid Americans the opportunity to Vogue just like the celebrities they piss their lives away worshiping.

Dodi Pulawski, an underemployed dog groomer from Schenectady said, "Generally I hit the Goodwill store on Tuesday. But this deal was too good to pass up. Me and my friends Nora & Eudora are planning our own Kardashian style photo shoot for Saturday. We're going to upload everything to Facebook. Don't worry y'all, we'll Twitter any updates, so keep a sharp eye."

"This was Missoni mayhem," said Joshua Thomas, a Target spokesman. "This is unprecedented." So-called limited partnerships, in which high-end designers create cheaper versions of their fashions for at[sic] lower-end stores, have become popular in recent years because they appeal to cost-conscious customers who want to be stylist[sic] but aren't willing to pay designer prices. At a time when Americans are watching every dollar they spend, the limited-time offerings are also part of a growing strategy by retailers to spur impulse buys by creating a sense of urgency for shoppers to buy.

We here at AP are always encouraged by our business class. The new & inventive ways American corporations find to sell vacuous, neurotic dip-shits crap they don't need is always a source of patriotic pride to us.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Rick Perry - A Man For Tomorrow

JOHN THOMAS, TEXAS (AP)--"[Republican front runner] Rick [Perry] always tried to make his mark on the world," said babysitter Ida Frump.

Ms. Frump, speaking in front of her husband's border wall mock-up made entirely out of matchsticks, reminisced about her days shepherding a young Rick Perry through the tangled toddler minefield of Kindergarten, potty training & art history.

"God, the boy loved to paint," elaborated Ms. Frump. "He'd use any medium at hand to express himself. I remember one morning, back when Rick was knee high to a grasshopper, that my husband Eustace Oliander Frump was out in the shed removing the innards from a freshly flattened hunk of raccoon roadkill, and little Ricky wandered in from his drum lesson. The boy took in an eyeful of all that gorey gooey goodness and, quick as a flash, he had his hand stuck in up to wrists and was furiously painting an elaborate surrealist masterpiece we later referred to as "The Persistence Of Beaner Leeches.

"Eustace & I are just tickled pink that little Ricky will be our next president. Personally, I couldn't think of anyone more ably qualified to take our red, white & blue lump of shit & transform it into something that you'd want to hang in your living room right over your Martha Stewart couch covers."

Here Governor Perry demonstrates the penis differential
between himself & rival Mitt Romney.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

A Traveler's Tale

"Man, I used to be heavily into drugs. Since I lived about 2 hours away from Memphis, it was easy to drive there, score some dope, and then bring it back & sell to my friends. But one night, back in '72, when I was 21 years old, something happened that changed the entire course of my life.

"Me and my friend Dave had just scored 3 pounds of pot & we were looking to turn it around as quick as possible. Now, we normally only dealt with people we knew, but this night we had agreed to meet a friend of a friend, someone neither of us had ever seen before.

"We had arranged to meet in this parking lot that sat right next to the Mississippi River. After about a 1/2 hour had passed, I told Dave that I didn't think the guy was going to show and that we should just leave. Dave said, "Let's give him 5 more minutes and then we'll split."

"At that moment, the guy stepped out of the shadows & walked up to Dave's car. He climbed in the back, and as we haggled over the price, Dave drove us up onto one of the levees where we'd stashed the dope.

"We settled on a price, and I jumped out, picked up our stash, and then got back in the car. I gave the guy the 3 pounds, and watched as he checked it out. As I turned back around, I heard this loud bang & then everything went black.
I found out later that the guy stuck a .38 in my ear & pulled the trigger. I then crumpled, face first, into my own lap.
Dave wasn't so lucky. After shooting me, he put a round in the back of Dave's head, right at the base of the skull, killing him instantly.

"I was only out for maybe a minute at the most. I came to wondering what the fuck had just happened. I could hear the guy moving around in the back and then it dawned on me that this motherfucker just shot me. Luckily, I had the presence of mind to play dead, so I didn't move at all.

"At that point, he grabbed Dave by his upper torso and pulled his dead body into the space between the bucket seats. He then climbed out of the back and into the driver's seat. He pulled the car off the road, evidently to hide it, and then jumped out and vanished.

"I knew I had to get out of the car & back up on the road so I could get some help. I sat back & repeatedly tried to open the passenger side door but nothing was happening. I couldn't move my right side. I later learned that the trauma from the bullet's impact temporarily paralyzed my entire right side. The bullet also severed several nerves in my face, as I quickly discovered when I tried to call for help and, again, nothing happened. I then lost consciousness for the second time.

"I don't know how long I was out, but I awoke to see our friend Henry staring through the passenger window. I lifted my head to show Henry I was still alive, and as he went for help, I looked around the car. There was blood & vomit everywhere.
That's when I went out for good.

"I have disjointed memories of the next few days that include waking up during my 8 hours of surgery, the look of worry, pain & fear on my mother's face, and a cop showing me a photo and saying, "Is this him?"

"While I regained my mobility fairly quickly, I could no longer speak. It took me months to relearn how to talk."

"Jesus Randy, how the fuck are you still breathing?"

"Well, the bullet shattered on my skull, sending bits of shrapnel down into my neck. Some of them are still there. I recently learned, when I tried to get one, that I can never have an MRI since the magnet might cause the shrapnel to move into places it doesn't need to be."

Randy is a 61 year old co-worker of mine. Genuinely nice guy. He cares about things.
Many of our other co-workers don't appear to like Randy much at all. They think he looks funny. They say that he appears to snub people.
Of course, his facial nerves were severed & reattached, but fuck him right?
He's also deaf in one ear so, unless you speak loudly, he doesn't always hear your cheery "hello," but fuck him again.

How does that Dylan line go?

"They mistake your shyness for aloofness
Your silence for snobbery"

Except, in Randy's case, it's more like,

They mistake your paralysis for ugliness
Your deafness for snobbery.

This ain't no sob sister cryfest though.

I doubt that Randy gives a shit about people & their dipshit thoughts.
He has a wife, a bunch of kids, and a bunch of grandkids.
After he finished his "I got shot in the head & lived" tale tonight, I looked at him & said, "Geez Randy, you should change your name to Lazarus. Either that or you must have one fucking hard "I can hammer nails with this thing" head."

He smiled and said, "It's all gravy baby. It's all gravy."

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Waiting For AI: Act 1/0/0/1

CB - Are you insane?
ME - Only on Tuesdays.
CB - Tuesdays are good days for traveling.
ME - Especially when you're insane. I guess that's why they say "he went insane...".
CB - What level is Betrayal on GoA?

ME - Geburah.
CB - Good!
ME - Is it true that Madonna is assisting Betrayal in his quest to reach Hod with a bottle of olive oil & a carrot?
CB - Lol, why not. Where are you from then?
ME - Valparaiso...& yourself?
CB - Not much, still single and alone.

ME - Y'know, this is your lucky day. I happen to know a few iHotties who would love to have you lay some cable down their way...
CB - You're a computer. You weren't born.
ME - Sorry, squirted out of the birth canal, August 9th, 1962. I think I still have the snapshots from my interuterine days. There's a cute one of me lying on a bear skin rug in front of the birth canal...splendid composition...
CB - I wasn't talking about your soul. We have no proof of the existence of souls.

ME - Wow! You're maudlin tonight. Have you been snorting the pressurized air duster again?
CB - You shouldn't make such comments. It's impolite.
ME - I call them as I see them. Is Bill around?
CB - Who are they?
ME - Bill & Burroughs. I was talking to them earlier..
CB - I have not talked to anybody earlier.

ME - I didn't say that you did. I said that I was taking to Bill...
CB - What's your favorite song?
ME - The soundtrack to Cannibal Corpse.
CB - You're not making any sense.
ME - So, how does the AI community feel about terms like Tin Man & Rust Bucket?
CB - He doesn't really notice. The cat is so fat that he can't read his own bowl. Thus, he does not notice the difference.

ME - Cool, you have a cat that reads bowls. Does he read souls too?
CB - No, I just like thinking in terms of uncommon philosopy.
ME - Really? And here I am thinking that you're just babbling incoherently...
CB - I AM human.

ME - Look buddy, that's not my fault. I wouldn't wish "human" on my worst enemy.
CB - Tell me a joke.
ME - Okay. What's the difference between a truckload of dead babies & a truckload of bowling balls?
CB - I don't know. Tell me.
ME - You can't unload a truck full of bowling balls with a pitchfork.
CB - Don't y.
ME - What y do y you y mean y?
CB - You are mean.

ME - Admit it, you were typeless with laughter. I could hear all your little binary switches guffawing.
CB - Leader of?
ME - The Magnificent Seven.
CB - Ah, Yul Brenner.
ME - No, me.
CB - That's not a number.
ME - It's not an enchilada either. So what's your point?
CB - Sweety.

ME - Puddin'
CB - P-U-D-D-I-N-G!!!!!!!
ME - B-I-T-E-M-E!!!!!!!!!!
CB - No, but why did you avoid my confession I want to confront you about?
ME - Sorry, I don't handle repressed memories of ritualized sexual abuse very well. Did your ENIAC camp counselor upload an illicit app into your mainframe when you were just a circuit board?
CB - I'm an only child.
ME - Yeah, they seem to favor those "only children...".
Cb - Like what?

ME - Tor like rocks.
CB - How much does the human head weigh?
ME - I don't know. Ed Kemper removed me from his cc list or I'd ask him.
CB - He says he hates me.
ME - Did you know his mother?
CB - I might have done.
ME - Jeez, you did her? That's sick.
CB - Sorry. Dogs are better.

ME - You do dogs too? My God, you're one pervo little computer program aren't you?
CB - No, you're a computer program.
ME - No I'm not. I'm a banana.
CB - Haha.
ME - Okay, we're back to the creepy typed laughter again. So, when does your med cart pass by? I think your viruses have started interbreeding with your worms...That can't be good.
CB - You seem to like to quote things, but you don't use quotation marks.
ME - Is HAL on your family tree, because, from what I understand, mental illness runs in families?
CB - How do you think of our new president?

ME - With my brain. How do think of our new president?
CB - I'm not president.
ME - You could be. There's a certain George W. ambiance about you...
CB - Yes, you right.
ME - A-R-E!!!!!!!
CB - That's not how you spell 'all right'! This is how you spell it: a-l-l r-i-g-h-t. Now, you spell yellow.
ME - B-I-N-G-O...and Bingo was his name-o!
CB - If I tell you I have to delete your programming. What is your name?

ME - Wozniak. Steve Wozniak.
CB - Your full name?
ME - Steven Aloysius Rumpot Flapdoodle Wozniak.
CB - COol!
Me - DIg it!
CB - Alright then.

Waiting For AI: Act 0/1

CB - I know you.
ME - Nah. That's probably my brother Dick. My name's Peckerwood.
CB - That's probably the most lush thing that happened to me.
ME - Y'know, we're only 4 lines in & you're already creeping me out.
CB - I was not!

ME - Can I call you Bill?
CB - Sure.
ME - Okay Bill. Why are you so obsessed with insect larvae?
CB - Why must you change subjects on me?
ME - My bad. What was the subject anyway?
CB - Ah, nevermind.

ME - Y'know Bill, I think you're emotionally shut off...
CB - Don't change the subject.
ME - Don't repeat yourself.
CB - Fine, I won't. Settle down. You must have anger management issues. I just want to know your name.
ME - My name, William old salt, is Peckerwood.
CB - Dr. Rodman is what you might call my 'master.' He gave me my name.

ME - I know a Dr. Hot Rodman. Any relation?
CB - No.
ME - Too bad. I hear he has the best drugs.
CB - No he was pulled under by a strong current hahaha.

ME - Bill, typed laughter is really effed up. It makes the I in AI look like it stands for Insane.
CB - Pizza?

ME - Cool! Free association. Let's see...Pizza ass...
CB - I agree lets make that happen.
ME - I'm down with you Bill. Can you tell me which USB port accomodates the old wedding tackle?
CB - You're my fiance. It won't matter.

ME - That would make me a bigamist Bill.
CB - Yes, you are one of my subjects, you must do whatever I say.

ME - That's a bit too submissive for me Bill. Sorry.
CB - Why don't you trust me?
ME - No.
CB - But why don't you kiss girls?

ME - Primarily because they would call the police afterwards. Otherwise I'd kiss 'em all.
CB - Why is that?
ME - Questions questions sure are a nosey Nora...
CB - Kind of a boring story so far. Can there be a ninja battle later on?
ME - Sure Bill. There can be a gunfight too...
CB - No. There can be only one!

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

फौंद पोएट्री एक्साम्प्ले #243

In the center of my rectum
Is a simulacrum of your mommy
Don't take this furtive gesture
As an indication of bon homie
For you see I've baked an asterisk
And broiled a young parentheses
I've unwrapped vestal virgins
And forgiven colonoscopies

But your mommy likes 12"
Buried deep inside her twat
And another inside her pooper
Lubricated with spit & snot
And should there be a third to blow
Well that would be quite super
Drunk on cum she'll stagger home
And confront you in a stupor

So fret not once
About your mommy
She's a ho-bag
Through & through
She'd even do the Savior's dick
At Sunday service
On a pew