Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Wilford Brimley Sounds Off



Dear America and Sometimes God Damn Canada,

God damnit. God damnit. God damnit. I'm spittin' mad and there ain't enough Quaker Oats oatmeal in the world to calm me down. This whole God damn world is going to hell, and nobody's doing shit to stop it. Every day at 3:47 PM I sit down to take a big ole Wilford on the terlit, bringing in my newspaper of course, and sure enough I read a new God damn article about Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, or Paris motherfucking Hilton. Enough already. Get a job you God damn hippies. If there's one thing this ole codger hates it's good for nothing tramps that go cavorting and gallivanting around town wearing who-knows-what and doing who-knows-who. It pisses me off real bad, and I ain't a guy to lose his temper a lot. Okay, that's a God damn lie. I lose my temper when a British person says "shhedule" or when a VCR blinks 12:00 or even when a cat sneezes. Hell, I've lost my temper so many times, I ain't remembered what's it like to be in a good mood. But my God damn point is that I hate these young little slunks (that's my word for drunk sluts), and hope to all things holy that they check their blood sugar and go off to Siberia to live with them Commie bastards.

Now, I wouldn't go and wish The Diabetes on them as that's not right to wish on anyone, but I'd definitely wish Herpes on them. Then again, they probably already have it and a whole host of other God damn sexually transmitted diseases. I can assure you that they don't have The Wilford, which is a particularly nasty virus that you can only get from ridin' my pissed off old balls. I picked up that one in Nam. Not the war, mind you, but on a vacation I took last year with the God damn Hawaiian Tropic Girls. Now there are some wholesome God damn American women. Britney and Lindsay and that jailbird slunk Paris should take a lesson from them. My wife took many lessons from them and she's the best God damn wife an oatmeal eating diabetic could ask for. She don't talk nonsense, she earns a healthy living, she likes my mustache, and she lets me put my Wilford stick in her Wilford hole whenever I God damn want, which is once every third Wednesday.

If there's one thing I don't understand, it's why America's so God damn obsessed with these harlots and hussies. If it were up to me, and it should be, none of those so-called news networks would ever run a story about them. But they do and we're left to suffer. Well, that makes me madder than a rabid raccoon with a taste for flesh. Instead of running stories on these glorified artificial vaginas, the news should be running Liberty Medical commercials that advise people to check their blood sugar, and check it often. Or they should run stories about that war going on in that place in the other part of the world. Or they should update me on John Stamos's new fling. Those are real stories that real God damn Americans want to know about. We don't like those God damn stories about Britney and Lindsay and Paris. Trust me, I'm Wilford Brimley. I have The Diabetes and I know what's news.

So I command all of you Americans and God damn Canadians who are reading this to write your Congressman. Tell him you're pissed off about the news coverage and want to see something different or you'll storm the statehouse and rip him a new Wilford. You can tell em' Wilford Brimley sent ya', although I'm sure he'll know.

Pissed Off,
Wilford Brimley

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Original Jennifer Love Hewitt petition


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2 Comments:

Blogger The Cajun Boy said...

wilfred is a curmudgeonly old coot and a breathe of stale air. glad to see he's not dead.

11:38 PM  
Blogger 1 peanut said...

The wilfred posts are hilarious. Keep them coming.

9:44 AM  

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