Showing posts with label your mother. Show all posts
Showing posts with label your mother. Show all posts

Sunday, November 2, 2008

A SUNDAY SERENADE

In addition to spending most of the day hungover sitting in a pile of my own waste I've been watching the Sunday news shows and reading a lot of the newspapers: CNN, Fox News, MSNBC, NBC, The New York Times, the AP, the Wall Street Journal, even Conde Nast Traveller (I guess they cover politics now).  Of course, the big topic among all of them is the presidential campaign.  The promises, the plans, who's going to cut taxes, who's going to raise taxes, who's tough on terror, Iran's nuclear program, pre-conditions, voter fraud, voter disenfranchisement, vice presidential picks, the national debt, withdrawal plans, Saturday Night Live, one world order, your mother, my mother, blah, blah, blah...  It took me all day but I eventually found the one piece of video that sums it ALL up perfectly:

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PS - These guys are called Sons Of Butcher.  Check out some of their other videos after this one.  They'll rock your nut sack off! (In an 80's-glam rock kinda way)

Thursday, October 23, 2008

SKYNET IS COMING.

In the not too distant future we'll be lying in our grubby concrete underground bunkers, choking on our own BO from not having had running water for like 700 billion months; and will look back on this period of time and say this was when it all started.  It clicked into place for me today when I saw this article in which the US military is developing agile robots to track "uncooperative humans."  And if that doesn't make a little ass nugget plop into your frosty white fruit 'o the looms check out the video below, which shows the fucking robots that are going to have the 50-caliber rifles strapped to their backs telling you to comply.

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Yeah, I know.  That's some serious shit right there.  Now combine that story with this one which reports US troops being deployed in US cities for "crowd control" as of October 1st.  Two plus two equals the end is extremely fucking nigh.  And that's bad news for us cowards.  Plus, I don't want to live in an underground bunker and smell my own BO... or other peoples' nasty foot odor.  And don't even get me started on the fart issue.  Let's face it - a robot revolution would suck balls, big time.  No digital cable or internet or coffee or dental floss.  Nah.  Nope.  I'm out.  Do not want.  I wonder if those maniac robot dogs could be taught to heel and fetch?  I think I've got some fucking Snausages around here somewhere.  Stay strong.

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Tuesday, September 30, 2008

THE GREATIST FOOTBALL SPEECH IN THE HISTORY OF YOUR MOTHER!

Around this same time every year, when a bunch of monstrous dudes start chasing an oblong ball made from dead animal skin around 100 yards of turf like a bunch of fucking maniacs; I'll watch the greatest football speech ever made.  No, not Vince Lombardi.  It's a speech by Al Pacino in the movie Any Given Sunday, just before the big game.  It's just about the most goddam inspiring thing I've ever seen in the history of my awesome life - and that's counting the time I watched an armless stripper pick up $48 in $1's at the end of her set.  She, like Pacino, knew that life is a game of inches.  Watch.  Watch and grow awesome you fantastic bastards.

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PS - If this clip doesn't motivate you to do something - anything! - email me so I can find you and slap the shit out of you.


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