Hmm, nothing like a fresh Dawkin's Doughnut

Judie Brown, president of the American Life League, is calling out Krispy Kreme doughnuts for supporting the pro-choice movement.  It’s a sad day in this country’s history when we blindly line up like Jews in a 1940 Warsaw ghetto to eat a pastry without realizing each and every delicious bite is dripping with the tears of unwanted fetuses.  It should have been obvious to us all when we saw the advertisement in the window stating “Free doughnut of choice to every customer on inauguration day.”  We only saw free, none of us realized the wicked word choice was hidden right before our eyes.  It think it’s time to take a stand as a free nation and do a google search to find some other guilty parties in this fight for Judie’s control of our nation’s vaginas.

Webster’s dictionary is a blasphemous book that defines choice as, “a person or thing chosen.”  We must rid the shelves of this gateway book so that our children never learn they have such broad options in life.  The fewer options they are presented with, the fewer mistakes they will make.

Healthy Choice frozen food should be pulled from every supermarket shelf.  As if using “choice” in their product names wasn’t bad enough now they’re implying that all these choices we’re dedicating our lives to fight against are healthy.  It is not a healthy choice to get mouth raped by a vegetarian lasagna.

Choice magazine describes itself as, “the magazine for professional coaching.”  Coaches are either facing against us at the front lines of the sexual education classrooms or their backs are turned to us as they give a Basketball Diaries tongue lashing with a ring finger in some innocent 13 year old’s rectum.  We cannot support a magazine for people whose only choice in life is to teach kids how to have sex, or show them.

Choice Hotels should be run completely out of business.  Their room rates are so low they’re actually competing with rental space in medical office parks.  It’s cheaper in many areas for doctors to run their entire practice out of a hotel room that smells of semen and regret.  That puts doctor’s offices too close to the interstate and if we don’t stop it now by the end of the year you’ll be able to get a burger, a tank full of gas, and an abortion on the same exit and still make it in time for Freaknik

Adoption Choice, Inc. is forcing their staff to find customers willing to raise the world’s unwanted children of drug addicts, prostitutes, and nuns.  Without actually letting this heathen spawn into our homes the name of this organization is our only clue to their real agenda which is to force the new parents to raise these children thinking they were a choice, and one day they will have to make one of their own.  It is important now more than ever that we force our lawmakers to make this a country where children are sold, not adopted, so they can be raised with the understanding that they have no choices only orders.  The orders of the great Judie Brown.  

Judie is standing up for our rights.  Our rights to take away the rights of those who don’t deserve them.  

Judie Brown needs to be punched in the twat.  My only hope is when it happens the future president of her American Life League is on it’s way out and that the blow to it’s lil soft spot kills whatever part of the brain erupts such ignorant thought.

I accidentally cropped out the flies

The young man in the picture is my new project.  To protect his anonymity, we’ll call him Hepbee because he probably has it.  The great thing about lil’ Hepbee is he was born in just the right place at just the right time.  If you’ve ever read anything by Malcolm Gladwell you know these things will shape the rest of your life.  That’s where I come in.  Thanks to Sally Struthers, I’m able to feed this young man for $0.25 a day.  Thanks to the One Laptop per Child program, he’s able to earn that quarter.  

As the bible will tell you if you give a man a fish you feed him for a day, but if you give him laptop and a bowl of wheat he can find the best time and place to fish in Costa Rica, book you a discount flight and tour guide, and even email the cab service that will pick you up at the airport.  If we’ve learned anything these past couple years it’s that this economic crisis is not national, it’s global.  By picking an assistant with a solar powered laptop that lives close to the equator, I get a 12 hour work day with no carbon footprint.  

I think we can all agree that I’m a shining example of the change that’s needed in this world.  I hope more of you can follow my lead.

Apparently the Luxor felt Carrot Top’s act was getting a bit stale.  Here’s a video of his stage crew testing one of his new props.  We can only hope this one fails like all the rest.

It's as if the sign can predict the future

This train track runs thru the middle of the small town I live in.  There are five places to cross the tracks within a 1/2 mile and two of them are impossible with a truck and a trailer.  The town is littered with signs informing drivers of this issue yet at least once a week I get to look at a scene exactly like the one above I photographed this morning.  There are however a few things the picture doesn’t show you:

1.  The man in orange is attempting to jack up a fully loaded 53′ trailer and rest it on a wooden pallet.  

2.  On the other side of the truck is a train waiting very impatiently.

3.  This has been going on for 3 hours.

4.  In 15 more minutes, there will be two trains waiting… only the next one is coming the opposite direction.

5.  Someone in the crowd watching this fiasco is blaming it on Obama.

This is the problem with living in a free country.  If the same scenario took place in China the truck driver would have pulled that trailer thru an elementary school to keep from disobeying those signs.  I think we can all learn something from this.  Instructions on signs must be followed.

Now that Obama has started his new job I think it’s time he answered the questions we all have:

1. Why didn’t the secret service shoot Jamie Foxx when he gave you the “what’s up playa” point Sunday night? You’re the first black president not the last nigga to roll up to da club.
2. Whose idea was it to put Herbie Hancock on stage with Sheryl Crow and Will I. Am? A jazz legend, a rock whore, and who?
3. Is Joaquin Phoenix’s rap career a matter of national security? He’s pissing on the grave of Johnny Cash… Again.
4. Why did Aretha look like a 600 pound wedding cake topper?

The people demand answers sir. These are not the changes we were looking for.

There is no caption that tops the stupid look in this picture

Now that you know about Shitzu the shit bucket, it’s time you met Sam.  Sam is an 8 year old Valley Bulldog.  Somewhere there are papers that say she’s an English Bulldog but she’s as English as Puerto Rican’s are black.  I don’t care what texture your hair is, deep down you still want a job (Sorry, I just watched Gran Torino).  I don’t really remember the reason behind getting Sam, mostly because those memories were replaced by those of a bulldog shitting thru the front of a cage.  At just 4 months Sam had the amazing ability to shit on 6’ of wall and not get a single drop on the floor.  It was as if she was able to strafe down the hall while vomiting out her asshole.  Aside from her fecal ability, Sam is also living proof that dogs can be retarded.  This is not a hack chance to use the word retarded, it’s just the only word that make sense.  Retarded children do not respond well to a lack of routine to the point that sometimes they are unable to adjust to even the simplest change.  If you put Sam’s food bowl behind her, she will starve to death.  They don’t realize their own strength even to the point of hurting themselves.  Sam once ran full speed into the side of a car that had been parked in the same place for 3 days.  IQ for retardation is less than 75.  Sam can’t count and lets other dogs piss in her mouth.

I’ve been around long enough where it’s probably time to tell the story of how my little family came to be.  Until one or more of them come to their senses, I live with my wife, two daughters, and three dogs.  Since every other living creature in my home is a female, according to my eloquently spoken step father I’m “the only swingin’ dick in the house.”  

So how does an asshole like myself amass a home filled with pussy?  The story can’t be told all at once.  I guess the easiest way to tell it is to start at the bottom and work my way up.

Kloe, is a 10 year old Cocker Spaniel/Shitzu breed we have named “crock -o- shit.”  I believe this breed name has a lot to do with her behavior over the years.  The dog was purchased, as most are, to ensure my access to the interior of a 19 year old girl’s panties.  It kind of worked, but to learn more about that you’ll have to wait until I get to the story about my wife.  After I bought the dog I left it to live at the apartment of the previously mentioned young lady because 1. I was living in a house with 3 other dogs (a Pug that was missing an eye, rib, and nipple, an epileptic Dalmatian, and a Great Dane with hip dysplasia and lactose intolerance) and 2. I hate fucking cocker spaniels.  Upon leaving the mutt at her residence, she assured me that she would be following my strict training instructions  enlisted upon every animal that I’m forced to share a roof with.  After a week of visits it was clear that either she was not following these rules, or she was re-staining her hardwood floors with piss.  At some point during the tense training negotiations, the young lady and I decided to combine households.  Now I’m living with two women, and 4 dogs.  Everything you expect to happen in this situation does.  I’ll save the part about the women for a later blog and let you know the surprising part that relates to this story is that with four dogs, the one running things is an eight pound handicapped pug.  Demon puppy didn’t seem to appreciate the distribution of power so she took matters into her own hands and destroyed the house.  

Now, most does will chew up a couch cushion, a shoe, or maybe the leg of some furniture.  Amateurs.  This dog started a Red Dawn full assault on my life.  She warmed up with items around the house.  She ate the bottom of every door, she soaked every rug in urine, and just in case there was any question about who the culprit was, she would force me to follow her down the hall so I could watch her back up and piss on my pillow.  Next she took out my wallet.  Her first financial attack began with her swallowing an entire pair of panties whole.  The tickling lace caused a constant cough, much like parvo.  Since my roommates dogs hadn’t been vaccined properly, and they were too big for her to manage getting them to the vet, I had to pay the vet to come to the house and give $1500 worth of shots to every dog.  About a month before my wife gave birth to our first daughter, Kloe broke her back.  After spending four years with this dog my wife had become so attached to her that a death at this point could cause problems with the pregnancy.  I checked our saving and we had $3,000.  I told her if it cost a dollar more, we had to put the dog down.  The surgery ended up costing $2995.  Looking back, if we’d eaten a steak dinner the night before I could have saved myself a lot of stress over the last six years.

After the surgery the dog recovered fully and spent the next five years getting her way through a series of hateful acts including but not limited to:  shitting in my shoe, stealing my clothes, barking every 10 minutes after baby’s bedtime, eating bullets, eating money, hiding dead rats in my workshop.  Things went pretty much like this until all one day she just didn’t look good.  She would cough, weez, walk funny, fall down, etc.  The vet said make her comfortable, this is it.  My daughter had just turned five, and a new kid was on the way.  The wife and I decided since the daughter was going to loose a lot of attention with the new baby, it would be easier to do a proactive swap and get a new puppy before the old one kicked off.  So we bought a new dog and the simple act of bringing her home instilled a second wind in Kloe of miraculous proportions.  All symptoms immediately disappeared.  She also found the strength to let me know how much she appreciated our gift of a new dog and a new will to live.  She walked over and shit on my leg.  She was banished outside for a week.  45 seconds after she was let back in, she did it again.  The new puppy is now 100 lbs, the dog who should have been name Falcor refuses to die.

The book said it would fit. I burned the book too.

Step 1.  Remove and carefully pack all ornaments.

Step 2.  Wait 3 days.

Step 3.  Drink heavily, wait 2 more days.

Step 4.  Take tree apart and make 4 unsuccessful attempts to fit a bowling ball in a matchbox.

Step 5.  Take tree outside to “pack more effectively.”

Step 6.  Once out of site, burn tree.

Step 7.  Place remaining poles in outside trash.

The wife is not happy.  The husband has been drinking.

Why the long face? You can afford it.

I’m typically sympathetic of those that are considered different from the crowd.  I have no problem with different races or cultures as long as they’re not violent towards others for being different.  If you’re religious and don’t haze me for not believing what you do, I’ll hide your beer in my basement.  I’m all for giving gays all the rights the straights have.  After all, without gay women, we’d have no porn industry.  Without the porn industry, we’d still be choosing between VHS and BetaMax and sock factories would be dropping like flies in this economy.  I don’t even have a problem with the guy that got fucked by the horse in Enumclaw a few years back.  The horse seemed to prove his point and hopefully others learned that they grow those mini me stallions for a reason.

But even with my obvious caring nature, I’m finding that I have a serious problem with the transgender community.  Quite frankly, I think you’re all fucking nuts.  The way I’m looking at it thinking that you’re meant to be a different sex is no different than thinking you’re three different people or that your dog just asked you to kill all the hookers in the meat packing district (hide the Jim Jones biographies from that retriever).  This is by far not a religious statement otherwise at some point I’d be throwing the gays under the bus.  I’m a firm believer than sucking a cock is vastly different than removing one.  

So in order to disagree with this life theory, I guess I have to analyze possible reasons for it.  Maybe they think we won’t notice, and in that case they are motherfuckin mistaken.  I’ve walked down many a city street in more than one country and immediately known that a particular young “lady” knows a lot about men because she used to be one.  Maybe the sex life will get better.  That must be it because when I think great sex life the first thing that comes to mind is the complete and total lack of an orgasm.  If there were no orgasms in life the Flying J truckstops would have closed years ago.  Maybe they just need to wear different clothes.  I’m pretty sure neither sex needs surgery for that.  Women in men’s clothes is standard now and a few weeks ago I saw a rather muscular black male walking down a Philly street wearing high tops and a dress.  I assure you, none of us would have approached this gentleman to comment on any choices he’s made.

Now that I’ve actually thought about it more while typing this, I’m not angry at the TG’s and I’ll be treating them the same as everyone else I meet.  They will take the same verbal lashing (not tongue, not tongue, damn it I almost typed tongue) that one of my friends would if he told me he needed a vagina in his pants.  But in the end, I’d still buy ‘em a beer.