The Lesson of the Boston Bombings

Click to enlarge. Blowback, Moronican style.

They hate us for our freedoms! Durr.

Black People Are Turning White

Beyonce is turning into a White person.

When I first saw that pic, I thought, “Who is that cute White chick?” Then I thought, “Is she even White or what?” So I Googled her. I was stunned to find that this is the famous Beyonce, a supposedly “Black” singer. Is she a mulatto? Brazilianization may be upon us sooner than we think.

And why the stupid expression? She looks like someone just stuck a carrot up her butt.

American Culture in a Nutshell

This is it. This is the end. Obviously the Apocalypse is at end. And what’s become of White people anyway? Why are they all turning into Black people now? I thought they were separate races.

Don’t Make Fun of Women

Hey! Don’t make fun of women. It’s not nice and it hurts their poor little feelings, which are very sensitive you know. Besides, there’s nothing to make fun of anyway as women are perfect. How do I know? The feminists told me so. LOL!

American Culture?

I didn’t know we had a culture.

This is a Shitty Website

Repost from the old site.

The Poop Report.

One of the all-time great websites about you know what. Shit, poop, crap, call it what you will – if you have a question about Number 2, there is probably an answer here somewhere.

One of my favorite threads is “anal leakage”. Of all the problems that could afflict a poor soul.

They sell books, they sell t-shirts, they sell everything. They even have a newsletter. Check out the names of the most active users.

Other than the obvious scatological humor, the forums are filled with folks with all sorts of anxieties about their shit. I asked a nurse friend of mine once if I were abnormal with my shit worries. She said, “Everyone is obsessed with their shit.”

And maybe it’s not a bad idea, hey. From hemorrhoids to polyps to diverticulosis to constipation to diarrhea to IBS, all sorts of stuff can and does go wrong down there. Be lucky if you are still going on schedule and without problems.

We shouldn’t be afraid of scatological discussion. Most folks think it is off-topic forever, but really, it’s something most of us do just about every day. It’s not a disgusting, horrible, awful, unmentionable thing we do regularly; it’s a very important part of our lives.

Shit isn’t as harmful as you think, your own, that is. You can probably even ingest tiny or microscopic amounts of your own shit, and most of us probably do from time to time. Most people probably don’t believe this, but it’s probably impossible to catch any disease this way. That is because any disease that is in your shit is already in your body (in your intestines that is) and thus you cannot catch a disease that you already have.

Once again, if you eat your own shit in large enough amounts, you might vomit because it’s so disgusting, but I don’t think you could catch any disease.

The big problem with shit is not your own shit but other peoples’ shit. One public health specialist was asked what was the greatest public health achievement of modern times was, and he said, “Getting the shit out of the water.” And so it was, the sewage was cleansed from the well, and lo and behold, the people got so much better when they weren’t drinking that shitty tasting water anymore.

That’s why we wash our hands after we shit. And do it well, hopefully, as I am a maniac about it, having OCD and all never hurts. They fear our shit and we fear their shit, so it’s like opposing shit armies, except truces are made when the armies camp together on the battlefield for about six months, after which they decide to give up this shitty war and go back to the base and listen for the sirens again.

That’s what other people’s shit is all about: it’s dangerous. Hell with your own shit, that’s for others to worry about, not you! Who fears their own shit? No educated man does, that’s who. In lots of countries they never got around to getting the shit out of the water, and so they are grotesquely unhealthy, like the Afghans these days living to be 38 or so, drinking that shitty war and dodging exploding humans and all that.

So be on the lookout for other people’s shit. It’s all about, and it’s dangerous and it’s our problem, not even theirs. Everybody is immune to their own shit, but everybody’s shit is potentially at war with everyone else’s shit. It’s a Shit War to the finish dammit. A war of all shit against all shit.

So shit is like a toxic waste rocket you can shoot at your opposing humans, or any humans that might get in your way, since your army of shit doesn’t care who it attacks or when or who. They’re always ready to fight, kind of like Iraqis.

Lots of diseases you can catch from other people’s shit, like Hepatitis A, parasites, cholera, salmonella, shigella and ameobiasis, crytosporidium and other fine foods. Gay men get a lot of these, because they are always eating shit, so to speak. I figure gay men have been eating it in society for long enough, so they don’t have to eat shit anymore, but I guess they are masochist leatherboys.

The reason you get sick when you go to Mexico and drink the water or suck on a lime is because you start drinking too much other people’s shit. Mexicans don’t mind for the most part, as Mexican shit doesn’t bother most Mexicans. It’s not really a taco de chivo con todo, but hey, it’s edible and unavoidable, and and if you have to eat a turd or even drink a turd tea, you may as well enjoy the experience.

And get a life lesson as it is, since most of us are going to be eating shit for the rest of our lives in one way or another for the rest of our lives. So we may as well lie back and enjoy it and try to engage damage control, so we don’t have to eat too much shit, and we can sort of enjoy life more or less, or at least fake it good enough to pass.

The shit, the shit, nothing but the shit. Apocalypse Now, Poop Later. 2001, A Shit Odyssey. Full Metal Shitjacket. Life’s a turd, and then you flush. 51% nice girl, 49% turd, so don’t flush me. Shit now or forever hold your sphincter. Shit, fart or get out of the bathroom.

Ok, I’m done. I’m scatologicalized out for the time being. That’s all the shitty jokes for one day, and anyway, the day itself was kind of a shitty joke itself in more ways than one, like lots of days, or maybe even every day if you are not stoned or drunk enough to notice?

There’s shitty jokes everywhere. Every time you turn around you hear another one. Life is kind of one big shitty joke after another, but at least half the jokes are lame enough so you can laugh about them for being so stupid.

The stupid, shitty jokes of life. Since I was really depressed, I made a shitty poem out of it.

The shitty years.
The long and oh so shitty years.
The sadness of the shitty years.

Now actually that was kind of beautiful, and it was then that I realized that I was a poet and I didn’t even know it but I hadn’t yet blown it, since there were always those Poetry Review contests, which anyone can win since they are sized down to the crowd at your local supermarket.

My poems would be great if I was a poet, but since they are so much better than everyone else’s, everyone would probably hate them, or else two or three women who are weird literary groupies about as screwed up as the poet nuts they love, might fall in love with me as “the greatest writer that ever lived.”

Which I agree with in principle, as most accomplished scribes are, since that is the only reason we even write anyway, we all think we are the greatest writers that ever lived, otherwise why waste time scribbling?

I had a university lit professor once who thought I was the next Thomas Pynchon. He’d hardly ever seen anything like this, this fiction I was writing. I kept on writing the novel, and got to about page 213, but it was turning into this totally insane and sick William Burroughs type novel, and it just got uglier and uglier with the following year or two, kind our like our mugs over time.

There are a few scribblings of fiction here and there, and I have brilliant friends who read and say, “Wow, this is like James Joyce or William Shakespeare,” but of course they are clearly deluded, and I think it pretty much sucks probably. Or else it’s the greatest thing ever written, almost kinda maybe sort of a little bit.

Since women do love writers, after all, even though most writers are pretty crazy.

Smart women can love writers, but not so women not so smart. They hear the guy’s a writer and start laughing. Anyway, most of them read menus and checkbooks and birthday cards, but otherwise they regard books like you do a kid’s object in the middle of the floor.

Definitely one of the web’s greatest websites if you’ve got copro-obsessive qualities, as most of us do. The Poop Report FTW!

Those Latin Lovers

Repost from the old site.

Frequency of orgasm by nation (!)

More polls like this!

Who wins? You had to ask? Italians! Rudolf Valentino, Sophia Loren, Robert DeNiro, Isabella Rossellini, Leonardo DiCarpio.

Runners-up? Those nasty Slav fascists in Serbia, Montenegro and Macedonia. Something about that hot-blooded Mediterranean race?

Number 4? Nasty, evil Jewish Zionists from Israel! Ew, gross! Boo! Hiss! I always wondered where Jewish women got this reputation for being frigid. Not my experience. Wonder why they get off so much? Nothing like the terror of a Hamas or Hezbollah rocket landing on your head in the middle of the act to really get you into a rip-roaring mood for the petit mort?

Most frigid? Chinese, Indians and cold Finns. Finns are too depressed to get off, and it’s too damn cold to screw most of the time anyway, though I can’t think of a better way to warm up.

As far as the Chinese and Indians go, I guess that’s where centuries or millenia of ultra-misogyny gets you. They’re so terrified of their women’s sex drives, they’ve tuned them down to near-zero. Way to go, guys.

The bit about men faking orgasms is downright bizarre. As Woody Allen says, everyone of mine has been right on the money. When we don’t come, it’s painfully obvious to everyone. Women bitch about having to fake it, but at least they get to fake it.

Figures about lifetime never getting off for women seem low. I’ve heard it ranges up to 20-25% even in the US.

Cunnilingus Kills!

Here.

That is one Hell of a way to die. There you are on your back, halfway to Heaven already, and the next thing you know, you are dead.

It’s the #1 killer of women in the US.*Heart disease is second. Little known fact!

*Actually I lied. The #1 killer of women in the US is not blowing into vaginas. The #1 killer of women in the US is Ted Bundy!

Haha!

Caterpillar Man Jokes

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs floating in water? Bob.

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs flying over the fence at a baseball diamond? Homer.

What do you call a woman with one leg? Eileen.

What do you call her if she’s Asian? Irene.

What do you say to a hitchhiker with one leg? “Hop in!”

I heard there was a guy who had no arms and no legs. They called him “Caterpillar Man.” I believe he lived early in the last century in San Fransisco. Supposedly he rode around on a skateboard, lying flat on it to get around as he rode around on the sidewalks. They said he was really mean too, very nasty and ugly personality. I think you can find photos of him on Google Image search, but I am scared to go look for them right now.

For some reason that story makes me LOL hard.

National Guard Troops Shoot Dead Worshipper in New Orleans Church

Repost from the old site.

I know, I know, you are wondering about the headline. Doesn’t make sense, does it? Ah, but it does.

You see, things were so horrible along the Gulf Coast on September 7, 2005 in the aftermath Hurricane Katrina that even the gators feared for their lives. The water was horribly toxic, there were soldiers everywhere, and the humans the gators were eating were often so high in fat and BS that it was downright dangerous to eat them.

One gator named Wally (see photo above) decided he had had enough. He tried to escape Katrina by becoming a refugee and seeking shelter in a Catholic church. Yes, Wally was apparently Catholic.

Wally was lying in the ruined church, exhausted and praying to God for his mortal soul, when the homicidal National Guard burst in and shot poor Wally dead as he preyed, I mean prayed. See that the blood coming out of Wally’s mouth?

It’s from a murderous guardsman’s bullet. Rumors that Wally was accompanied by two of his animal friends named Magilla and Peter, could not be confirmed at press time.

This photo was shot by Marvi Lacar for an article in the German Stern Magazine on September 7, 2005 at the height of the madness. The photo was apparently taken in Gulfport, Mississippi, not in NOLA, although Google’s translation of the Stern page from German leaves a lot to be desired.

Some of you wonder why the heck you even come to this measly blog. Here is a good reason. This is the first blog to post a picture of an alligator in a city in the aftermath of Katrina.

Want some alligators eating people during Katrina stories, oh morbid ones? Try this news story here from a great post, After Katrina, It’s a Dog Eat Human World , on a newly discovered progressive blog called Tumerica. Want more gator stuff? Check out Steve Gilliard’s furious, vulgar but very well-written post on alligator MRE’s. Steve’s blog is really a delight.

Update: Majikthise linked to this piece via this bizarre piece on a python who blew up when it tried to eat a gator in the Everglades.