This douche play-acts like he’s all right with me and on my Republican team, but me, I think he’s full uh shit. All for show, it is. “All show and no-go Gallo” is what we call him at our rallies. Kinda like this guy.
But, you do gotta hand it to the prick, he can work it like a pimp.
those crazy Asia’s is always doin crazy, no scratch that, downright weird and fucked out shit. (oh an bi the way, that j-chick is super fine.) cheg what they feel they have to do to enjoy dinna. gross weirdoes. but, i gotta hand it to em, if you’re gonna be all weird and fucked out, at least they do it with fake naked chicks. oh, and bi the way, wtf are they thinkin that they gotts to blurr up her fake pubes for?
this your olde boy Crampaw in tha hizzie. i’m going to start posting educations on here from now on, so listen up YOU SCREWHEADS. i have nothing but contempt for all of you all cause i feel y’all all garbage. Except any fit females between the ages of 18 and 56 who are willing and PHYSICALY ABLE to learn new things.
No fatties.
check ya later!
crampy
ps - cheg it, this fella shares my views. he is obviously a smart man like yous truly, CRAMPAW. SAY MY NAME!
Apparently, a lot of Brits hate, hate, hate this thing. Apparently, it’s also supposed to be a “2012,” but I couldn’t tell when I first saw it.
And apparently, these are what a lot of other people saw at first glance…
Ssshhh. You hear that? That’s the sound of punk rock’s rotting corpse being defiled by a generation of Hot Topic emo-abortions like this guy.
It’s 2007. The entire world has been put through the fucking wringer by the Yokel-In-Chief over the past seven years. And a lot of comedians have gotten plenty of mileage from making fun of him.
But really, George W. has made it too easy. Whether you’re on the left or the right, it’s hard to ignore the seeming 8-year-old child in the Oval office, especially when he utters thoughtless non sequiturs like:
“I am to be a competitive nation.”
“Families is where our nation finds hope, where wings take dream.”
“I’m the decider, and I decide what is best.”
I know, I know. Posting W’s retarded little manglings of the English language is as played out as saying Karl Rove looks like a human penis. We all know that if a penis decided to become a person, it would look like Karl. And we all know that when he gets excited (about tax cuts or sending more young Americans to their death or to become cripples), he secretes a mucus-like fluid from his cranium.
In the same vein (no pun intended), we all know that Emperor W is missing a brain. So, is it still worth the effort to make fun of him after all the late night wisecracks and Internet put-downs that have spilled forth since 2000?
Fuck it. We think so…
Well, spring has officially sprung. Trees are in bloom, pollen is everywhere, and National Public Radio is officially chaffing my ass.
Their spring pledge drive is in full motherfuckin’ effizzle, which means every 15 minutes, NPR treats its listeners to a lengthy guilt trip about donating money to them. Sometimes, it’s brought to you by Terri Gross. Sometimes, it’s Ira Glass. Occasionally, it’s a random celebrity like Robert freakin’ Plant. No joke. Mr. “Squeeze My Lemon” did a little spot yesterday about how much he loves rock ‘n roll, drugs and public radio.
One of my favorite tactics of theirs is the quasi-ransom threat. In effect, they say, “If you would just send us enough money to meet our goals, we could call this pledge drive off right now, and get back to our regular broadcast.” Bullshit!! I call bullshit on that. They enjoy their little “poor-us-we-have-no-money” game too much. We could give them all the gold in the world, and they’d still trot out Angela Lansbury or somebody like that to implore me to slap another donation on my already maxed-out credit card.
Oh wait. Is Angela Lansbury dead?? Because if she is, I would really feel guilty then.
Anywho, I’ll rant some more about NPR later. In the meantime, let’s rejoice in another waning cultural phenomenon: Lost. Does anyone still watch the show? WTF are the writers thinking? If anyone has insight into the latter, it’s the NYC homeboys in Olde English. Check out their version of a Lost writers meeting. I defy anyone to say their plot points are any less insane than the real ones.
Also, this is some fucked up shit having to do with meat and sex. I thought I’d share it with you beautiful people…
Seems that old derogatory word that refers to homosexual men and rhymes with “maggot” has been on everybody’s lips lately. And not just gently resting on everyone’s lips. It’s been pulsing and throbbing all over them like a big, hard… um… controversial word.
To be frank, yours truly has been admonished several times for attempting to use the other F-Bomb (as I like to put it) here on this blog. Apparently, it’s considered “hate speech.” Which gave me not a little pause when I was writing what was to be this morning’s blog entry. Here’s a rough draft:
Your attention please, straight people of the world!! Please, listen to my pre-written warning!! My speech, if you will!! Ahem…let’s see. OK. There are certain people out there that sometimes are derided for their sexuality. Sometimes they’re called horrible names. Sometimes, people even refer to them as “_______”. Can you believe that?! “_______!!” I absolutely hate that word!!! I do!! I hate, hate, hate “_______”!!
And that’s when my editor cut me off. I know, I know. Sounds like a “hate speech” if you’ve ever heard one before, right? Well, it seems my loose lips have put me in odd company. Because this dumb “______” hater…
…is now in trouble for also dropping the other F-Bomb. The only difference is, she called Democratic presidential hopeful and former U.S. senator, John Edwards, a “______.” Here’s the details.
Obviously, I would “hate” nothing more than being lumped in the same politically-correct doghouse as the Queen of All Things Cunty, Ann Coulter. So, to clear my good name, I hearby declare that I will never use the word “______” in this blog ever again, neither in jest or in seriousnessnessness.
Is “cunty” too hateful?
It’s been a while since I chimed in about my move to Atlanta from the wilds of NYC, so here’s my progress report…
First off, let’s me say how stoked I am to be living in a town where it’s socially acceptable to use the word “wudn’t” in everyday life. I can’t explain what it is, but if you spent your formative years getting called a commie by Reagan-brainwashed 80s youth because you were a Russian immigrant, you’d realize that getting a Wudn’t Pass is akin to attaining the American dream. ::Cue Neil Diamond’s “America”::
Folks have had a lot to say about my grits intolerance. Someone swore that I just hadn’t found the right grit for me, going on to explain the subtleties between cheese and shrimp grits. Another devotee explained that grits were like a bare canvas awaiting my embellishment. To all of them, I say: go eat some steamed broccoli and shut the fuck up. Props, as always, to the local biscuits: I’m in ur thighz, filling ur belliez.
Also, seems most of you agree that Atlanta is full of fuckin’ crazy unattentive, maniac drunk drivers who love their cell phones. Therefore, it is with heavy heart that I must admit that I’ll soon be joining their ranks. I finally got around to enrolling in driving lessons. No, not my first ones EVER… just the first ones since I got my driver’s license (first time out, bitches!) at 17. I look forward to sharing the road with this guy:
This is a real pic I took out of a friend’s car at a red light. WTF is up with this asshole riding a 4-wheeler down Ponce on a Thursday night? I’m supposed to keep myself alive, remember to use my turn signals AND look out for douchebags like him? At least he was wearing a helmet… and probably a wireless headset.
Ya know, we had this thing called a transit system in NY—Atlanta should look into it, because it seems the city planning committee sure loves treating this metropolis like a giant Sims game (how else do you explain Atlantic Station?), so why not build a little choo-choo to run through it? Until then, look out for the Sunday driver in oversized sunglasses with the “student” flair on a tan Ford.
That’s right. I’m dropping a Spin Doctors reference, so you know I’m serious. Seriously puzzled, that is, about all of the “Little Miss Sunshine” Oscar hype.
Yes, I laughed all the way through it. Yes, Oscar-nominee Alan Arkin deserves a prize of some sort—be it a statue or a gift certificate to Chipotle—for his role as the loveable and dirty ol’ grandfather. And yes, the young girl who strives to be “Little Miss Sunshine” is as cute or cuter than the one from that Blind Melon bee-girl video (Jesus, that’s two dated ’90s references; maybe I should start saying “Not!” again, too).
But, as a dear friend used to say, “Let’s not start blowing each other quite yet.” I mean, a Best Picture nomination?! Did the Academy actually watch the entire film?? Did they notice Steve Carell was cast in the most unfunny role of his career, as a gay and suicidal Proust scholar?? Or did the judges just enjoy feeling smart when they heard the name Proust?? Were they not annoyed by the emo shithead of a teenager son character who takes a vow of silence in honor of his literary hero, Nietzche?? Who does that?? And what family–no matter how wacky and dysfunctional–tolerates that kind of shit?? And that’s not to mention the film’s most heavy-handed role: Greg Kinnear as the family’s bumbling father who also happens to be a wanna-be motivational speaker. Man, what a square!! Doesn’t he know cool people hate all those stupid self-help aphorisms?? Sheesh.
And that’s only a quarter of the forced quirkiness in “Little Miss Sunshine.” Slate.com does a marvelous job highlighting all of the film’s ultimately forgivable flaws here: http://www.slate.com/id/2160371.
Look, people. I ain’t hatin’. When my older, more suburban sister asked me, “Didn’t you just love ‘Little Miss Sunshine?’” I smiled and said I did. I just didn’t have the heart to spark yet another red-state, blue-state arguement.
All I’m saying is that I don’t know if “Little Miss Sunshine” deserves the same award as “Annie Hall,” which happens to be the last comedy to have won an Oscar in 1977.
Which reminds me, did anybody see Woody Allen’s latest comedy, “Scoop??” No?? Nevermind.
Now, if anybody should win a prize this weekend, it should be this guy: http://www.superdeluxe.com/sd/artist/brad_neely. Just for being the Best Fake Man ever.
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