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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Saturday, July 21, 2007

In My First Act As President



Dear America,

In my first act as President, I'm going to kill 19 kittens and 47 bunnies. And one water buffalo with dingleberries on its ass. Just shoot them with my hand cannon. Argggh!! That should make those liberals squirm like the dogs they are. I am the President of the World and you can't stop me, you liberal terrorists. I'm going to simulcast the killings on TV and then loop it over and over until that idiot takes over as President again when he's finished with his bi-decade Katie Couric. But just before he takes over, I'm going to sign an Executive Order requiring that this kitten-and-bunny-cide occurs at least twice year, on both my birthdays. Yes, I have two birthdays. And they come whenever I want. Because I'm Dick Cheney and you're not, you little bitches!

You ever see a bunny die up close? I have. Every week I see it when I kill them on my birthday. That's right, I have a birthday every week. Every day is Dick Cheney day! I just had a birthday five minutes ago, and as President, I'm going to make it a national holiday. Every day of the year will be Dick Cheney Day where you can torture inmates, keep things secret from the American public, and headbutt 5 year olds. I'm President right now and I can do what I want, which includes eating bran muffins in bed. I need the fiber.

Now all of you bow to me. Bow to my bald skull and palsey-shaped mouth! I grimace in your general direction. I am Dick Cheney and I'm celebrating my 90th birthday in the last 10 minutes. And I'm going to kill a bunny right now. Watch it die!!! Oh, and if you get a chance, can you win the Iraq war for me? Thanks.


Love and Cuddles,
Dick Cheney


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Original Jennifer Love Hewitt petition


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Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Air Bud Challenges Michael Vick To A Fight



Hey Michael,

So you like fighting dogs, eh? Yeah, it makes you feel tough. You feel like a real man, dontcha. We know you're a big pussy on the football field and can't win the big game, but as long as you hang or electrocute a dog, you're a tough guy. Well not in my book. You're just a cocksucking punkass pathetic excuse for a football player. I challenge you to a fight, in the parking lot or on the gridiron. I'll take you either way cuz I'm a tough son of a bitch. Yeah, she was a bitch. They all are. And I'm a badass wide receiver. Bad enough to embarrass your ass. You like hurting dogs? Well I'll like hurting you. Cuz you're a big pussy, and if there's one thing I destroy...it's pussies.

Don't try to run away. Sure, you may be fast, but I'm Air Bud...I can outrun anyone. Maybe you'd know that if you didn't spend so much time killing dogs for fun. You make my blood boil, and that's a dangerous thing because my blood is jet fuel and I'm ready to explode. I can't wait to see you sitting there in court in your finest suit, your tail hanging between your legs. Wait, you don't have a tail because you're not a dog. You kill dogs. Well guess what? I'm a dog, and I'm here to kick your human ass.

See this helmet on me? It's not there for my protection; it's there for yours. I don't know what that means, but it sounds menacing and that's what I'm here to do. Menace you. And bite you. And then I'll lead my team to the Super Bowl. Because I'm Air Bud: Golden Receiver and I don't take shit from nobody...especially not a dog killer. Asshole. Fear me.


Menacingly,
Air Bud




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Original Jennifer Love Hewitt petition


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Saturday, July 14, 2007

You Know I'm E-mailing You From The Crapper



Hey Bill,

Did you get that meeting request I sent you? I sent it from the crapper. Oh, and that e-mail I sent you the other day about the budget deadline? Totally from the bathroom. I was ripping out a big one when I was writing about next month's forecast. That's what I love about my blackberry. I can poop and e-mail at the same time. It's great, I know. Technology allows me to combine two of my favorite things into one combined activity. I call it: shit-mailing. It's a logical name, don't you think? And I'm doing it right now.

Pretty much all my e-mails come from the crapper. And nobody is the wiser! I don't have to lug a laptop in like George from accounting. He's going to get caught one day soon. Oh, and Lenny from Accounts Payable? He brings in his PC and then runs the ethernet cable in from his desk. I know he's going to get caught one of these days. But me? I'm happy to secretly type away at my blackberry while I grunt out a loaf. All I need is a lamb casserole to eat and I'd be in heaven.

You'd be surprised how many e-mails I've sent while doing the deed. Hundreds of thousands. I have fingers like lightening and can send out at least 30 e-mails per "session." And I'm not talking about short little e-mails either. Every e-mail is at least 400-500 words. No joke. I'm that good. But that shouldn't surprise you as I've always been the best e-mailer this side of the Mississippi. Sometimes you see smoke coming out of the blackberry. Or maybe it's from my ass. Either way, it's cool.

Okay, I gotta go now. I have a meeting with Chuck in Marketing in about five minutes. That and my ass is getting numb. See you later today at the strategy roundtable.

Yours in Crap,
Matt


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Original Jennifer Love Hewitt petition


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Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Hey Tori, Can You Marry Me? And Then Take Your Top Off.



Hey Tori,

Nice cans. I can't believe you've become a minister. That's so hot. Ministers aren't supposed to have cans like yours. Take your top off. C'mon, do it for me. You're such a piece of ass. Even though you're horrifically ugly, I'm willing to look past your disfigured face. And I don't care about your weight. Just give me some naked minister action. I'll make Artie and Fred turn away if you want.

And while your top is off, you can marry me. Ever since I proposed I've been looking for some skanky minister chick to marry Beth and me. You can be that skanky minister chick. You know the FCC would have a field day if you married me while topless on the radio. C'mon, do it for ole Howie. If you don't, I'll make you listen to that stupid Simpsons Spider Pig commercial again. Yeah, I can see your top coming off now. That's so hot. A naked minister marrying me. If only you were hot.


Drooling...but also cringing at your face,
Howard Stern


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Original Jennifer Love Hewitt petition


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Monday, July 09, 2007

Hey, Pancake Tits! I'm Talking to You



Hey there Pancake Tits. Yeah, I'm talking to you. You think you're so hot, don't you. Sitting there with no bra on with your nips showin' through. I'm on to your little parlor games. You're not foolin' anyone, least of all me. Don't even try to look down at your free newspaper on the subway. I have a free newspaper too, but I'm not reading it. I'm staring at your pancake tits. Yeah, I am. Why don't you stare at my formal business pants-suit. Oh, it's not the same, is it? Not all of us can make such a bold statement as you can, Ms. Pancake Tits. Or is it Mrs. Pancake Tits? I don't want to insult a Mr. Pancake Tits if there is one in your life. I mean, why wouldn't there be, right? You have everything a young business executive needs. You've got style, flare, a free newspaper in the subway, and pancake tits. As a young, up-and-coming female executive, I'm jealous of you. That's right, I want to have your pancake tits. That way, I can stop wearing these constricting business suits and just show my PTs to the world. That's why I'm staring at you. It's pure jealousy.

I hate you. Okay, I said it. You and your pancake tits are taunting me. Don't deny it, Pancake Tits, because that's what you've been thinking about all along. That's why you wore what you wore. There's no other reason to wear a thin t-shirt with no bra in the subway on the way to work unless you want to taunt other women with your glorious pancake tits. Oh, I know your type. And that makes me hate you even more, Pancake Tits. I will destroy you one day. Be sure of that. I'm sure of it. Just as I'm sure that your pancake tits are horrible. You heard me. Deal with it.

Okay, it's my stop now on the subway. Keep reading. Don't even look up. Fine, be that way Pancake Tits. I'll get you one day. Oh, you'll see. I'll get you and your braless pancake tits. Just you wait. Fucking nip shower. Go to hell.


Love,
Young Female Business Executive



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Original Jennifer Love Hewitt petition


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Monday, July 02, 2007

Bush Commutes Libby's Sentence; Tank Johnson Next



Washington, DC (ABSP) - Associated BS Press

In a move praised by conservatives, decried by liberals, and smiled at by red-headed step-children, President Bush commuted the sentence of famed perjurer Scooter Libby. Calling the sentence "excessively largenated," the highly-rated President eliminated Libby's planned jail time. In a related move, the President also commuted the sentence of Bears defensive legend Tank "Another Drink Please" Johnson. The commuting of Libby's sentence was expected, but Johnson's came as a surprise, particularly because he didn't actually have a sentence. Bush dismissed the fact of Johnson's lack of a sentence as "liberal concoctionations invented to confusinate" him.

For the small percentage of Americans living in a cave, Libby was aide to Vice President Cheney who lied to a grand jury about his role in the outing of Valerie Plame and subsequently received a 2 1/2 year prison sentence. Although Bush defied the will of the courts, including the verdicts judges he and his father appointed, he felt that he had to do what was right. As evidenced by his decisions on Iraq, Katrina, and immigration, it's clear that Bush definitely knows the right choice when he sees it. And buoyed by an historically strong approval rating, it's clear the American people trust his judgement to do the right thing and will soundly support this decision.

Sources close to Tank indicate that he's thrilled that the President commuted his sentence, and he's really interested to learn who this "President guy" is. The Libby camp has yet to issue a public statement, but sources close to the former White House staffer indicate that Libby and his team are practicing their one-fingered salute to the liberal media.

No word yet from Vice President Cheney, but sources close to the "Veep" indicate that he plans to emerge from the 9th level of Hell to make a statement soon. Until then, he will continue to flay the souls of kittens, puppies, and ancestors of Maureen Dowd.



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Original Jennifer Love Hewitt petition


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