~
Every time you see him, Mormon Jesus is so hype.
He's dope on the floor and he's magic on the mic.
(This one goes out to AVA, Tyco, Heavy Beavy, and Air Samp)
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
What's Better?
~
What's better than Whiplash the Monkey riding his trustysteed dog around the ring?
Whiplash the Monkey riding his trustysteed dog around town delivering delicious tacos to unsuspecting people!
You're welcome.
~
What's better than Whiplash the Monkey riding his trusty
Whiplash the Monkey riding his trusty
You're welcome.
~
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
God I Hate People So Much
~
Kwame Kilpatrick, if you can recall, is the former Mayor of Detroit. He did all sorts of illegal shit while in control of the city, including banging his chief of staff while married. He abused city funds, fired good cops to cover up his shady dealings, cost the dying city millions of much needed dollars, and acted like a complete jackass when he was caught and ultimately thrown in jail.
Well, as we all know from watching the news, sports, or out our front window, people who suck almost to a tee never stop sucking. And Kwame, recently released from jail, has jumped right back on the bandwagon.
An article from the Detroit News and Free Press website states that Kilpatrick's lawyers have sent a so-called Demand Letter to Skytel, which is apparently a precursor to a person seeking damages in an eventual lawsuit. This Demand Letter, um, demanded that Skytel pay Kilpatrick 100 MILLION DOLLARS for releasing the text messages which ultimately helped uncover the fact that Kwame Kilpatrick is a thug douchebag who cheated the system, his wife, and the city of Detroit out of millions of dollars and what little positive reputation it might have been clinging to.
It's nice to see people who truly understand how to take responsibility for their actions. Never mind that he's a felon, that he cheated on his wife, that he fired good people to cover up his criminal activity, that he may have allegedly had a hand in a stripper's killing, that he assaulted a police officer, and on and on and on.
Why shouldn't he sue for a hundred million dollars? He was clearly wronged. I mean, if Skytel never releases the text messages nobody could have ever proved he was an adulterer, felon, or douchebag.
He was wronged! He's a victim!!!
Honestly, Kwame. Not that you're reading this. But if you are. Would you please just fuck off and go try and be a decent human being for a while? Show a little humility and a little effort to repair what you damaged instead of blaming everyone else and going the way of the lawsuit.
Or just get in a bus accident. I'm good either way.
Parlour Magazine (Where the picture above is from) had put up a great time-line a while back. Here's a snippet and the link to the full thing. It's impressive, you should really click through and read the whole deal. Also, remember while you're reading this that he now feels he deserves 100 million dollars from Skytel because it led to all of this biting him in the ass like it should have.
2002
- Kwame is elected mayor of Detroit to much acclaim and fanfare (we admit it, we loved him).
- After being elected mayor of Detroit, Kwame allegedly throws a party, with strippers, at his state-owned official residence, the Manoogian Mansion. According to former members of his Executive Protection Unit (EPU), his wife Carlita comes home to find Kwame with the strippers and attacks one of the girls.
- Kilpatrick is found out to have charged over $210,000 in credit card bills. What was he buying? Spa massages, Moët, etc. He ended up paying the city back $9,000.
~
Kwame Kilpatrick, if you can recall, is the former Mayor of Detroit. He did all sorts of illegal shit while in control of the city, including banging his chief of staff while married. He abused city funds, fired good cops to cover up his shady dealings, cost the dying city millions of much needed dollars, and acted like a complete jackass when he was caught and ultimately thrown in jail.
Well, as we all know from watching the news, sports, or out our front window, people who suck almost to a tee never stop sucking. And Kwame, recently released from jail, has jumped right back on the bandwagon.
An article from the Detroit News and Free Press website states that Kilpatrick's lawyers have sent a so-called Demand Letter to Skytel, which is apparently a precursor to a person seeking damages in an eventual lawsuit. This Demand Letter, um, demanded that Skytel pay Kilpatrick 100 MILLION DOLLARS for releasing the text messages which ultimately helped uncover the fact that Kwame Kilpatrick is a thug douchebag who cheated the system, his wife, and the city of Detroit out of millions of dollars and what little positive reputation it might have been clinging to.
It's nice to see people who truly understand how to take responsibility for their actions. Never mind that he's a felon, that he cheated on his wife, that he fired good people to cover up his criminal activity, that he may have allegedly had a hand in a stripper's killing, that he assaulted a police officer, and on and on and on.
Why shouldn't he sue for a hundred million dollars? He was clearly wronged. I mean, if Skytel never releases the text messages nobody could have ever proved he was an adulterer, felon, or douchebag.
He was wronged! He's a victim!!!
Honestly, Kwame. Not that you're reading this. But if you are. Would you please just fuck off and go try and be a decent human being for a while? Show a little humility and a little effort to repair what you damaged instead of blaming everyone else and going the way of the lawsuit.
Or just get in a bus accident. I'm good either way.
Parlour Magazine (Where the picture above is from) had put up a great time-line a while back. Here's a snippet and the link to the full thing. It's impressive, you should really click through and read the whole deal. Also, remember while you're reading this that he now feels he deserves 100 million dollars from Skytel because it led to all of this biting him in the ass like it should have.
2002
- Kwame is elected mayor of Detroit to much acclaim and fanfare (we admit it, we loved him).
- After being elected mayor of Detroit, Kwame allegedly throws a party, with strippers, at his state-owned official residence, the Manoogian Mansion. According to former members of his Executive Protection Unit (EPU), his wife Carlita comes home to find Kwame with the strippers and attacks one of the girls.
- Kilpatrick is found out to have charged over $210,000 in credit card bills. What was he buying? Spa massages, Moët, etc. He ended up paying the city back $9,000.
~
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Doing Things
~
I won't lie to you, dear reader.
(Often, at least)
But this proud black man couldn't be happier as he scrambles like Michael Vick to line up a place to live, work for his girlfriend Qwa'cinda, (Who maybe he'll just call Q) a resolution to Q not currently owning a vehicle, and a way to stop himself from dropping F-Bombs when he plays basketball with the mormons.
And no, blogger, I'm not going to go all the way back up there to capitalize the word mormon. If you want to do it so badly you just go ahead and make the adjustment automatically. In fact, if you're so smart why aren't you already doing it? Doesn't it pain you to see me not capitalize so many deserving words? I'm a serial non-capitalizing muthafucka, muthafucka!
Maybe I do it on purpose, blogger. Huh? Have you thought about that? (Put that in your pipe, and smoke it mister!) Doesn't feel good when someone tells you how to do things, does it? Make suggestions constantly?
Since we're on the subject of suggestions, maybe you could load a goddamn picture into the post where I want it and not automatically up at the top of each post. Listen, monkey. When I want you to dance, you dance. I can't be cutting and pasting pictures of Nicholas Cage's bird hair all goddamn day long, you know. (Hat tip: Film Drunk)
So, with that out of the way I think I can move along.
It's time I do something nice for everyone. Why? Because I'm trying to offset Karma so I don't have retarded babies some day. You've read my blog for a while now. You're an accomplice. Maybe you should do something nice for someone too. You can never be too sure.
The other day I held a door for a really slow old lady. I mean, this bitch was slooooow. I understand if you're pulling an oxygen tank around you probably have emphysema. I get it. But the thing is on wheels for crying out loud! There's virtually no resistance to it. Just hold on and move your ass through the door, it's cold out!
OK, so maybe I just ruined that good deed. But there was also the fat smelly guy who delivered the food for me yesterday and got a larger than normal tip. I'm sure he'll just go spend it on food, the fat fuck, but that was nice, right?
Damn. I think I see a zero sum pattern forming.
Well, let me tell you a story about why I'm giving you this gift below today. I was trying to get Q to move here and it went sort of like this...
C'mon baby, just move here.
Come here now!
Baby, come here.
Come.
Here.
Come, baby.
Come, baby. Come.
(Turns out these guys still perform. As little as four months ago these guys were performing this and their other hit Zeunga Zang live. FOR PEOPLE!)
I hope Q enjoys it here. I plan on taking her each night to this soundtrack. I'll have her get herself ready in the bedroom and I'll wait in the hall during the initial buildup, possibly doing pushups and situps to tighten things up and get a little glisten going. Then, and my timing will have to be perfect with this, but I'll open the door dressed as a Viking Warrior...
...and just as K7 says it I'll "SLAM THE DOOR, BOOM!" as I enter the bedroom, simultaneously disrobing and leaping twelve feet into the bed in one fluid motion.
It's going to be magical.
And you're welcome.
I won't lie to you, dear reader.
(Often, at least)
But this proud black man couldn't be happier as he scrambles like Michael Vick to line up a place to live, work for his girlfriend Qwa'cinda, (Who maybe he'll just call Q) a resolution to Q not currently owning a vehicle, and a way to stop himself from dropping F-Bombs when he plays basketball with the mormons.
And no, blogger, I'm not going to go all the way back up there to capitalize the word mormon. If you want to do it so badly you just go ahead and make the adjustment automatically. In fact, if you're so smart why aren't you already doing it? Doesn't it pain you to see me not capitalize so many deserving words? I'm a serial non-capitalizing muthafucka, muthafucka!
Maybe I do it on purpose, blogger. Huh? Have you thought about that? (Put that in your pipe, and smoke it mister!) Doesn't feel good when someone tells you how to do things, does it? Make suggestions constantly?
Since we're on the subject of suggestions, maybe you could load a goddamn picture into the post where I want it and not automatically up at the top of each post. Listen, monkey. When I want you to dance, you dance. I can't be cutting and pasting pictures of Nicholas Cage's bird hair all goddamn day long, you know. (Hat tip: Film Drunk)
So, with that out of the way I think I can move along.
It's time I do something nice for everyone. Why? Because I'm trying to offset Karma so I don't have retarded babies some day. You've read my blog for a while now. You're an accomplice. Maybe you should do something nice for someone too. You can never be too sure.
The other day I held a door for a really slow old lady. I mean, this bitch was slooooow. I understand if you're pulling an oxygen tank around you probably have emphysema. I get it. But the thing is on wheels for crying out loud! There's virtually no resistance to it. Just hold on and move your ass through the door, it's cold out!
OK, so maybe I just ruined that good deed. But there was also the fat smelly guy who delivered the food for me yesterday and got a larger than normal tip. I'm sure he'll just go spend it on food, the fat fuck, but that was nice, right?
Damn. I think I see a zero sum pattern forming.
Well, let me tell you a story about why I'm giving you this gift below today. I was trying to get Q to move here and it went sort of like this...
C'mon baby, just move here.
Come here now!
Baby, come here.
Come.
Here.
Come, baby.
Come, baby. Come.
(Turns out these guys still perform. As little as four months ago these guys were performing this and their other hit Zeunga Zang live. FOR PEOPLE!)
I hope Q enjoys it here. I plan on taking her each night to this soundtrack. I'll have her get herself ready in the bedroom and I'll wait in the hall during the initial buildup, possibly doing pushups and situps to tighten things up and get a little glisten going. Then, and my timing will have to be perfect with this, but I'll open the door dressed as a Viking Warrior...
...and just as K7 says it I'll "SLAM THE DOOR, BOOM!" as I enter the bedroom, simultaneously disrobing and leaping twelve feet into the bed in one fluid motion.
It's going to be magical.
And you're welcome.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Catch Up
~
For those following along at home, if you had "Interracial" for Monday night then you win.
Hooray!
Moving along...
There have been some tremendous developments around these parts, completely trumping the previous high water mark from this post where I naturally asked this simple question of Nastia Liukin: Receding hairline or gigantic forehead?
This one picture has brought more traffic to my tiny slice of internet than any other in recent memory. For the record, I think it's just a gigantic forehead.
At any rate, I bitched and moaned, whined a little, and generally wet my knickers over the issue of getting my girlfriend to move from out of state to in with me. We weren't seeing eye to eye (Because chicks don't have eyes on their tits, am I right guys? Guys??) and I was getting frustrated as our economy tumbles and my chances of escaping my current work situation were working their way towards the chances of a five goal soccer match, which is to say almost nil.
Last Friday I found out I will need to move out of my current situation because my friends that I rent from are moving back earlier than expected. I sent out a text message to my girlfriend that read something like:
I have to move by the 26th. You should totally move in with me. I'll buy you that smush-faced puppy you want, make you breakfast in bed, and Tuesdays will become Naked Tuesdays!
So, in other words, serious but in trying not to make it seem like I was pressuring/annoying her I classed it up with Naked Tuesdays.
She and I sent texts back and forth with her telling me she'd be holding me to that puppy offer, and me joking a little more. Then, I sent what I thought would be a clever little text. I booked a ticket to go see her on the 20th of this month and in keeping with the theme of the previous texts I wrote:
Booked a ticket to come see you on the 20th. If you have your stuff packed we can grab a truck, pick up a smush-faced puppy (French Bulldog, probably) on the way home and be back by Naked Tuesday!
Then....nothing.
Didn't answer the phone, didn't return a text, nothing.
By Sunday night I was getting a little pissed off. Seeing your girlfriend only once a month is bad enough, but then having her avoid you on the phone is even worse. But then at 9pm Sunday the first of March, she called to tell me that she was ready to move here. We could do it the weekend I said I was coming, assuming I was serious about it in my text message.
Um, hells yeah I was!
Needless to say, I'm very excited. So excited in fact, that I had to tape my boner down all day yesterday lest it rear up from excitement and injure some poor passerby.
(Quick side note, don't use duct tape if trying this at home. You might want to go with something a little less gluey and powerful. Masking tape, maybe.)
This whole thing even got her to blog again!
Yes folks, things are beginning to shape up nicely around here. Now if only I could solve the other big problem I'm having. The one where I accidentally the fleshlight.
The whole thing.
~
For those following along at home, if you had "Interracial" for Monday night then you win.
Hooray!
Moving along...
There have been some tremendous developments around these parts, completely trumping the previous high water mark from this post where I naturally asked this simple question of Nastia Liukin: Receding hairline or gigantic forehead?
This one picture has brought more traffic to my tiny slice of internet than any other in recent memory. For the record, I think it's just a gigantic forehead.
At any rate, I bitched and moaned, whined a little, and generally wet my knickers over the issue of getting my girlfriend to move from out of state to in with me. We weren't seeing eye to eye (Because chicks don't have eyes on their tits, am I right guys? Guys??) and I was getting frustrated as our economy tumbles and my chances of escaping my current work situation were working their way towards the chances of a five goal soccer match, which is to say almost nil.
Last Friday I found out I will need to move out of my current situation because my friends that I rent from are moving back earlier than expected. I sent out a text message to my girlfriend that read something like:
I have to move by the 26th. You should totally move in with me. I'll buy you that smush-faced puppy you want, make you breakfast in bed, and Tuesdays will become Naked Tuesdays!
So, in other words, serious but in trying not to make it seem like I was pressuring/annoying her I classed it up with Naked Tuesdays.
She and I sent texts back and forth with her telling me she'd be holding me to that puppy offer, and me joking a little more. Then, I sent what I thought would be a clever little text. I booked a ticket to go see her on the 20th of this month and in keeping with the theme of the previous texts I wrote:
Booked a ticket to come see you on the 20th. If you have your stuff packed we can grab a truck, pick up a smush-faced puppy (French Bulldog, probably) on the way home and be back by Naked Tuesday!
Then....nothing.
Didn't answer the phone, didn't return a text, nothing.
By Sunday night I was getting a little pissed off. Seeing your girlfriend only once a month is bad enough, but then having her avoid you on the phone is even worse. But then at 9pm Sunday the first of March, she called to tell me that she was ready to move here. We could do it the weekend I said I was coming, assuming I was serious about it in my text message.
Um, hells yeah I was!
Needless to say, I'm very excited. So excited in fact, that I had to tape my boner down all day yesterday lest it rear up from excitement and injure some poor passerby.
(Quick side note, don't use duct tape if trying this at home. You might want to go with something a little less gluey and powerful. Masking tape, maybe.)
This whole thing even got her to blog again!
Yes folks, things are beginning to shape up nicely around here. Now if only I could solve the other big problem I'm having. The one where I accidentally the fleshlight.
The whole thing.
~
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