Category Archives: Jokes

Whatever Happened To That Kid On Made . . .?

A long time back I talked about how a kid at my school named Colin Colt was on MTV’s MADE to become a rapper and now I rap battled him to get on TV. For those of you who didn’t get to see the show, I had probably a 20 second cameo in which I busted the ill rhymes and made Colin my bitch. There was luckily someone recording it in the crowd so you guys can get an unedited version of the battle:

Colin went first:

The kid who screamed “MADE” in the beginning was my friend Joe, who was determined to make the videos obsolete with outbursts of profanity. Colin’s hit line “at least I don’t go to parties, get drunk and hook up with guys” is based off a massive school-wide rumor that I went to a party, got drunk, and got a hand job from a gay kid. This of course, is not true, but my friends and I still joke about it and, of course, I still get shit for it. Colin’s second big hit (“. . . go around dancing, while checking around for dateline’s Chris Hanson”) is because before I had a girlfriend I was notorious for hitting on younger girls. Not because I thought they were hot, but because most of the girls in my grade looked like if you touched them they’d be sticky. However, Colin slumped towards the end, studdering some oddly brokeback line: “that would put me on top of you.”

I retaliated:

My lines are self-explanatory, I just made fun of Colin and how goofy he is. On the aired TV show they only showed the last ten seconds, only since it had to be edited it went like this:

“Colin I know I diss you and that’s just ‘cause I’m the meanest
‘Cause in the dirty game of rap you’re definitely the cleanest
So overall, I hope there’s no real beef between us
And if there is then *beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep*”

At first I thought my 15 minutes of fame had passed with the show. When I got hired at work, I had to rap battle a few kids there, and of course I was asked on the streets to bust a few freestyles. I complied with all these requests, but mainly just to boost my ever-growing ego. One things that struck me as freaky was when one guy was pulling out of a parking lot, slowed down his car, and said “Hey aren’t you that kid from MADE?” I couldn’t help but feel like a star. For a while, I was a superstar. A Z-List celebrity, but a celebrity nonetheless.

And then I thought it was over. Aside from having a good story to tell and being the life of my family reunions (“Grandma! I beat this kid in a rap battle by telling him to suck my fucking penis!”) I thought my eminence was over. And then I got the call.

It was my last day of finals at AHS, and I went up to the room where my girlfriend was taking her test. When I got there, the teacher, who I rarely talk to, called me aside and said she needed to talk to me in private. We went out in the hall and closed the door and she half-whispered:

“The principal got a call from a producer at Nickelodeon who saw you on MTV. She said that she’s looking for kids to be on a TV show and when she saw you she thought you looked the part. The principal is waiting for you in his office with the lady’s phone number and all that.”

I went down to the office, got the phone number, and called the lady. When I mentioned that my name was Alex she didn’t remember me, saying that she saw me as “Boony” and assumed that was my real name. We talked for a while and she said that she was told to look for—and I quote—“A Justin Timberlake look-alike.” To this I laughed in her face, saying that I look more like JT’s dog than him. Let’s compare:

The lady asked me to send her a few pictures along with a resume about my abilities. Talent-wise, I have nothing. I can play two and a half songs on the piano, I can juggle, and I can say the alphabet backwards. Unfortunately, the show I’m auditioning for isn’t about a dyslexic piano playing juggler, it’s about a boy band. I sent her the pictures, and she called me and asked me to come out to New York for an audition the next day. Feeling rushed and unorganized, I immediately found a replacement for work, told everyone I saw, and went to bed early. And by “went to bed early” I mean stayed up all night predicting my future career.

The show she was doing was apparently about a boy band—hence me needing to be able to sing, act, and dance. Unfortunately, I can only sing in the shower and dance whenever we’re acting goofy during a techno song. As for acting, I think the extent of my performing arts talent is displayed whenever I need to stay home “sick” from school. My character on the show, whose name was “Donovan”, was the lead singer of the band and was described as having “enough music and dance stuffed in his soul that he could carry the group on stage by himself.” This is ironic, because if I got the part, I would most certainly be the retarded member of the band who just flails around and acts retarded (also known as Lance Bass).

On the phone, the lady told me I had to read a script and sing a song. Immediately, the song I thought of was Afternoon Delight as sung by Will Ferrell in “Anchorman”. But the lady made it clear that the producers were expecting a Backstreet Boys or N Sync song, limiting my options. Luckily, I still own the Backstreet Boy’s “Millennium” album on cassette, so selecting a song wouldn’t be so difficult. The only challenging part about singing a Backstreet Boys song became the fact that I’m painfully tone-deaf. Regardless, I selected I Want It That Way and started practicing.

Now normally, when an actor prepares for a roll, they do intensive research. Tom Cruise spent months learning Japanese to star in “The Last Samurai” and Christian Bale lost over 60 pounds to make a lasting performance in “The Machinist”. I, on the other hand, had less than 24 hours to practice for my audition, so my preparation consisted of me gelling my hair.

I went with my friend Adam to Nickelodeon Studios in New York City, taking a five hour bus trip there. When I got to New York, I could sense the smell of opportunity, hope, and gonorrhea. I decided that if I ever lived in New York, I would most certainly get stabbed to death. My friend, however, was a natural in the big city, pushing through crowds and aggressively cutting off traffic. I personally think New York City is disgusting. I think everything smells like a garbage truck drove by, and everyone seems like they just ate shit. When I wasn’t maneuvering around shoulders, I was trying to dodge traffic. I later found out that in the Big Apple, most traffic lights are optional. So is courtesy.

My interview with the Nickelodeon was the most disappointing thing ever. I went into the studio, signed in, and sat on a bench for five minutes. I was then called into the studio, asked to read the script, and sing the song. I honestly wish they could have showed people how horrible I sang, because it would have made William Hung look like Michael Bolton. Total, my time in front of the camera look less than two minutes. I’ve seen cows get slaughtered slower than that. Disappointed, my friend and I took a bus back home, spending a total of $100 each in the whole day.

Was it worth it? Yes. If I hadn’t taken the opportunity I would have been kicking myself for letting such a big chance go by me. But I now know that I can’t sing, act, or dance, so when the next opportunity arises I’ll be able to better predict the outcome. I guess I’ll just have to stick to being the best rapper in the school. Nickelodeon, I have no problem with you, and I hope there’s no beef between us.

And if there is then *beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep*

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Violence In Sports

Today’s topic of discussion is very serious to me: sports violence. Sports were once an activity revolving around recreation and fun, but have slowly evolved into excuses for aggression. Take, for example, England. No country is more patriotic or prouder than England. The nationalism in that country could overpower any other, and the brotherhood amongst its citizens is stronger than anyone else’s. Which is why you wouldn’t be surprised to find out that during the Euro Cup, the English soccer team’s supportive fans celebrate their team’s victory by joining together, sharing laughs, and—in some festive cases—lighting cars on fire.

You can’t blame the English though. Their sense of nationalism is fueled by more than heart and love of the game. Their pride is powered by something powerful. It rushes through their veins, causing a momentary high in which their inner devotion can no longer be withheld. The English’s pride is energized by one thing: beer. When filled with this alcoholic pride, soccer no longer becomes a sport. It becomes a social even in which you and your friends sing songs, celebrate life achievements, and viciously riot in the street.

Without beer, sports would be exactly what they were meant to be: entertaining. Let’s look, for instance, at America’s favorite pastime of baseball. When baseball grew in the 1920’s it was very amusing. Families would go to the ballpark dressed in their most formal outfits—as if they were going to church—to see legendary heroes build their careers. Baseball was a game of numbers, and nothing else.

It was later that baseball was combine with America’s other favorite pastime: aggressive drinking. Fans no longer went to games for entertainment, but instead used it as a place to socially drink. Fights would erupt against opposing fans—and even fellow teammates—and most fans wouldn’t even watch the game. Ball parks have inevitably tried to resolve the problem by charging 7 dollars a beer, but determined fans will not be defeated. And if you don’t believe that beer has infected baseball, just look at this comparison:

What Fans Wore In The 1920’s

What Fans Wear Now

My interest in the subject arose when I had a personal experience with sports violence. I was at my girlfriend’s field hockey game, and things were getting rough.

Field hockey, for those of you who don’t know, was invented in the 1960’s during the women’s rights movements as a “replacement sport.” Replacement sports arose when women demanded “equal rights” and men needed to stop their persistent bitching and quickly invent sports for them. First, they tried to make women’s leagues from men’s sports, they that failed miserably, as shown by A League Of Their Own. So instead, they invented replacement sports; activities competitive enough to qualify as sports, but easy enough that girls can still play them on their period.

Softball evolved from baseball, but in order to make it easier two things were eliminated:

1. The overhand pitch
2. The entertainment

Similarly, field hockey came from men’s ice hockey, but made it easier for girls by taking it off the slippery ice, making it basic so that girls only have to use one side of the stick, elimination checking, and getting rid of that nasty “intensity” that takes place in most real sports.

Watching my girlfriend play field hockey was almost as exciting as eating glue. A bunch of girls were just running around aimlessly and every time an offensive attack started to develop the whistle would blow and the play would stop. Luckily, things got exciting when one girl on the other team started getting into a girl on our team’s face. The two began pushing one another and yelling in each other’s face. I couldn’t hear the argument, but I assume it went like any other sport trash-talk:

Girl 1: Your shorts don’t match your shoes!

Girl 2: Oh yeah, well your socks don’t match your stick!

Girl 1: Take that! (Shoves Girl 2)

Girls 2: Everyone thinks you wear too much makeup!!

Girl 1: YOU BITCH!

This vicious trash-talk continued throughout the game until we won 12-3. That’s another thing about “replacement sports,” they’re normally so boring to watch because one team completely dominates the other. Rarely will you see a women’s sport that is so close that you get interested; the two exceptions being the 1998 Women’s Soccer Finals and the Rock Of Love 2 reunion. (In Case You Missed It)

After the game, our team gathered to celebrate the win and later went out to our cars. It was then we found out that our car windows were smashed. Two windows, actually. One van window had been completely decimated, while another car had a rock thrown through it. Horrified by what had just happened to her van, a girl on our team expressed dreadful concern towards the accident. “They had better not have taken my Hollister clothes!” she yelled, jumping into the car and grabbing a shopping bag. The clothes were still there (Thank GOD!) but one girl did get her purse stolen and my girlfriend’s dad had his briefcase taken. I lost all the homework I had worked so tediously to complete and was unable to hand it in.

In that single incident, field hockey gained my respect. It was no longer a replacement sport, but an aggressive activity that resulted in window smashing and grand-theft-purse. I am personally signing up for a field hockey team so that I can partake in the action. But first, I think I need a drink.

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Trench Warfare, And Other Badass Methods Of Fighting

In history class I’m learning about the first World War. The whole idea is pretty cool, especially how every country got involved and created a World-Wide Battle Royale. My history class is boring, so I’m hoping to summarize the war for you the way a comedy writer would: by discarding all rational facts and substituting them with bullshit.

I don’t really care about how the war started, why the war stared, or how it all ended. I’ve already taken notes on those things, and I’ve already taken the test; safely allowing me to forget that information forever. There are only two things about WWI that amuse me:

1. America saved the Allies asses at the end
2. Trench warfare was badass

If you’ve never heard of it, trench warfare is the coolest version of fighting since the Revolutionary War. Soldiers of each side would dig ditches in open areas across from another country, and spend days trying to drive the enemy out of their trench. But they wouldn’t just stand there with their thumb up their asses waiting for their opponents to move (with the exception of the French, who did everything with their thumb up their asses until 1965); they would alternate charger of one another’s trench. In these attacks, the soldiers would be running across open planes, called no man’s land. They decided to call it no man’s land because it sounded more appealing than STAY THE FUCK OFF OF THAT PIECE OF LAND. While sprinting across no man’s land, a soldier would have to dodge bullets and avoid bomb shells.

Just imagine it: you’re rushing across an open plain, the sound of bombshells echoing in your ears. Suddenly, an explosion next to you rips off your partner’s legs; his screams are silenced by the overpowering sound of machine gun fire. Another explosion sends shrapnel whizzing by your face and you feel a piercing pain in your gut as the metal tears through your skin like wet paper. You collapse to the ground; your lungs filling with blood and you’re slowing losing consciousness. Blackness creeps up from behind you and the last thing you see are your allies jumping over your body to continue the charge. No one is even helping you, and as you lay there dieing you can only think one thing: This is so bad ass.

Let’s face it, over the years war fighting has grown less and less cool. It all started with the Revolutionary War, in which men would stand in parallel lines, face each other, and—after closing their eyes and praying to God—fire a shot. Back then, your survival depended on one thing: luck. When all the smoke cleared, you would open your eyes, check your body for lethal wounds, and then go home and buy a lottery ticket. The reason the United States even won the war was because we pussied out and hid behind walls and trees.

Skipping the Civil War—I skip the civil war because until black people realize that millions of white men fought for African American rights and that they’re not actually, technically, legally, repressed anymore, there is no real point in recognizing the war—our next major battle is World War One. As I discussed before, these people would openly stampede across bare fields to their opponents in an attempt to drive their enemy back. Not only that, but the chemical mustard gas was used then. Mustard gas was invented by the Germans and was dropped by planes over enemy trenches. If soldiers didn’t put their gas masks on quick enough, the gas would get in their throat and leave an awful mustardy taste in their mouth. There were however, some ways to avoid and even counter the threat of mustard gas, the first one being to constantly carry around gas masks, and the other being—for some of the poorer countries—to carry around hot dogs. For historical reference, and also to give you, the reader, a clearer idea of how heroic trench warfare truly, was, here are a few people who fought in WWI:

The next major war was World War II. I haven’t covered it in history yet but here’s what I know about it:

1. It involved the Germans and some guy named Hitler
2. A bunch of people died
3. Jewish people didn’t win
4. America—once again—saved the Allies asses at the end

All I remember from about WWII was me sitting in history class with the infamous D-Young and trying to stay awake through Schindler’s List. What I do recall about WWII is that most of the fighting—or the cool parts, at least—happened with planes. These fighter planes were capable of twisting, turning, barrel-rolling, and, best of all, plummeting to the ground in a crumbled mass of flame.

The planes that were used in WWII were much different than the military planes we have today. Today, our planes can travel at 1,317 mph, fire heat-seeking missiles that can fire over 400 yards, have machine guns that can fire over 100 rounds a second, possess top of the line GPA navigation systems and communication lines, and have ejection seats in case of emergency. Pussies. The planes used in WWII had nothing but a propeller and a gun. Some didn’t even have wings! Pilots would have to peer out into the distance and look for a blurry dot that could potentially be the enemy. Finally, when two pilots located one another, they would hastily prepare for battle, ready their machine guns, buckle their seat beat, and then land to refuel. By the time most dogfighters found their enemy, a treaty was signed and the war was over. The Japanese were especially good at quickly locating their enemies because they had far superior equipment like, for example, binoculars.

The final war I’m going to cover is the War on Terror that has been going on for the past 7 years or so. This war certainly isn’t as major as the other ones because after 7 years America has only had about four casualties, but I feel it covers today’s military tactics. As a nation, America is proud to boast about its unprecedented military and special forces that rule over this world. We have machinery so advanced and weapons so powerful that any nation who dares challenge us will be blasted back to the Stone Age. For a quick synopsis, let’s look over some of today’s military weapons:


Knights Armament M4 MWS—Fires 900 rounds a minute with a 500 meter effective range. Has rapid fire and also a burst setting, and comes with components including various scopes, flashlights, target designators and grenade launcher.


Colt M4 Carbine—Already 10 years old, this rifle isn’t even used anymore despite the fact that is can fire 1,000 rounds a minute (166 a second)and has an accurate range of 600 meters. It only weights 7.5 pounds when fully loaded.


Barrett M107—This sniper’s rifle is going to soon be adopted by the U.S. military. It has a range of 2,000 meters, and is designed to take down some armored targets. The military has plans to further reduce the gun’s noise and flash upon firing, which seems pointless because no one will be able to see it from 2,000 meters away.

With technology so advanced like this, soldiers are able to escape danger altogether, and most wars are resolved without that much blood-shed. The lack of bravery and manliness now involved in combat is not only leading to our country being ridiculed for our pathetic divisions, but also preventing us from creating any amazing war movies of the past. Movies like Behind Enemy Lines and Saving Private Ryan brought the reality of harsh war-styles into the nation’s eyes. With today’s technology, we can’t produce war movies because it would mainly consist of grown men sitting around in the desert praying for some action, and no one wants to make a movie like that. Oh wait.

With today’s pussy “life-saving” technology opening up army enrollments to anyone who can sign a contract, here are the people who could fight in today’s military:

As much as I hate to say it, the manliest fighting style has to go to the Muslims. Even though they epitomize terror and fear, you have to give these guys props. They strap bombs on themselves, run into buildings, and just explode. There’s no pussy-footing around with “helmets” and “body armor,” they just do it. And if you think I’m racist for calling all Muslim’s suicide bombers, take this quick quiz:

Who is most likely to be a suicide bomber:

a) Muslim
b) Librarian
c) Child
d) Dog

Answer: All of them!!

That’s the beauty of suicide bombing: it goes back to the old school approach of recruiting. In the Revolutionary War, the solders were farmers, sailors, butchers, bakers, and candlestick makers. You became a soldier if you

1) Owned a gun
2) Bought a gun
3) Asked for a gun

Today, army recruits need to endure physical, mental and emotional tests. They are knocked down and built back up to ensure their strength. And that’s just before they enlist. Muslims, however, require only that you have a body capable of being strapped with C4, and that you scream “Praise Allah” before exploding. On the Bad Ass Scale? I’d give it a 9.5.

I predict a time in which military technology becomes so advanced that we have no need for soldiers. World leaders will simply sit at a large table and solve international conflicts with games like Stratego, War, and Monopoly (“Uh-Oh Germany, you have to go directly to jail. Do not pass GO, do not collect 200 dollars.”). In a time like that, you can find me sitting peacefully on my couch with all the men who would normally be in the line of fire. We’ll be watching Schindler’s List and eating hot dogs.

Will someone please pass the mustard gas?

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My Response To All You PMSing Goths

At first I thought I was just going to be able to ignore all the pro-Goths that were completly against my Anti-Goth post. But it turns out that they’re managed to keep bugging me even though I don’t pay them interest, making them more annoying than an attention-deprived four-year-old. Well there you are Goths; your immaturity has triggered a response from me. And this response will trigger a response, and that response will trigger a response, and the cycle will continue for years and years and years until you guys die from slitting your wrists.

Let’s just get one thing straight from the beginning: I don’t care what you have to say. You people think that just because you bothered to take the time to read my rant about how much Goths suck, I’m going to take the time to read your replies about how “You don’t have to wear all black to be Goth” or how “Goths and Emos are two different things.”

I didn’t even read half of your comments because I knew they all included the following:

1. Telling me how ignorant I am for stereotyping one category of people.
2. Preaching that Goths are “misunderstood” and giving a real-life example to back up your bullshit comeback.
3. Identifying one tiny accusation I made, responding to it as though I had just slaughtered your entire family, and taking everything I said personally to the point where your keyboard was covered in tears.
4. You appearing more arrogant than me while trying to call me arrogant.

Okay, I get it. You don’t like people who make fun of Goths. But guess what, EVERYONE makes fun of Goths. It’s America’s pastime (apart from baseball, apple pie, and morbid obesity)! You need to deal with the fact that I’m being a spokesperson for these people who all hate you, and that it’s not just me. There are thousands of sites out there who slander Goths and remind you guys that your life revolves around nothing; do you bug the shit out of them too? Oh what’s that? I’m sorry I can’t hear you guys, you might want to take that dick out of your mouth.

I seem to have really struck a nerve with people when I discussed the subject of Goths cutting themselves. Why would I be so heartless and cruel as to conjure up such an unheard of and false accusation? Because—and I may be going out on a limb here—GOTHS ACTUALLY DO CUT THEMSELVES. The only thing funnier than people getting pissed at me for writing about the cutting topic is that their responses proved my point better than I could!

Duane– i only cut myself once, for the hell of it.

Loki– do i cut myself? did once, just out of curiosity

Eric– Maybe because its North Idaho, and we are all strange up here, but you seem to be in the belief that goths do “cutting.” Another half truth. Many goths I know dispise cutting ones-self.
Does this mean that the other “half” enjoy cutting themselves?

You guys don’t understand that all the Goths who yelled at me for wrongfully accusing them of cutting actually cut themselves. Loki herself claimed to have cut “out of curiosity,” which proved my first point that Goths do everything that other Goths do. Nobody cuts “out of curiosity.” That’s like saying you once shot up heroin out of curiosity, or that you once punched a baby out of curiosity. Everyone knows that you cut yourself because all your other Goth friends did it and you wanted to see what all the hype is about. Even though you guys claim to be “different” and “free-thinking,” you all do the same thing! There’s no way you can even argue with that!!!

What did surprise me was the nerve I struck with the English population. As we all know, the English are a fierce band of warriors who will not settle for defeat and will fight to the death. In history, they have been responsible for countless wars, millions of deaths, and—perhaps the most threatening of all—tea time.

Let’s be honest. No one is scared of the English. As proof, take a look at one of the semi-finalists in Britain’s Got Talent. Granted, this girl is 6 years old, so she had immediate cute points there, but I think she is proof that Britian is the least intimidating country on earth.

Did you see that?  The second most talented person in all of Britain brought tears to people’s eyes.  I have only four words: Watch The Fuck Out.  I was a big fan, however, of how one disgruntled reader asked me if a Goth had ever shot me in the “arse.” Another called me an ignorant American, and a third was surprised that there were even angry and violent people in America. All I know is that it fills a warm spot in my heart to be hated in a completely other country; no matter how fragile and weak that country is.

I’m sorry that I had to upset all you meaningless assholes with my “freedom of speech” and “comedy writing.” If you think about it, comedy mostly comes from someone making fun of something. Whether is be sports, traditions, companies or products, comedy is hard to find if you’re just talking normal. It’s when you guys are at the butt of all the jokes that you start bitching and whining. You may seem like the group ganging up on me here, but I know that there are a countless number of people who would like to choke some sense into you just as much as I would. And I know you guys are going to respond hastily to this post, pointing out things I said wrong and finding every tiny little way to boost your pathetic amount of self-esteem. Because I know that when all is through, you guys will be the ugly ones with scars up and down your arms and a black Slipknot sweatshirt on looking like absolute tools. Hell, I might even join you, but only out of curiosity.

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Give Me An L! Give Me An O! Give Me An S! Give Me An E! Give Me An R!!!

This is my halloween costume.  I dare you to do this next year.

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Re-Elect Bill Clinton In 2008

I don’t really enjoy talking about politics for a few reasons. First, no matter what you say, some right-wing, bombastic asshole always seems to know more than you and shuts down every idea you propose. Secondly, I feel that I’m too young to understand the complex concepts of the government, yet too old to effectively call George Bush a poopy-pants snot-head. I’m too young to vote, to be affected by taxes, and to even complain about gas prices. Personally I don’t think that anything George Bush has done has affected me directly, and I wonder how many kids my age really know why they hate him. Oh sure, he started a war over oil and has sacrificed the lives of thousands in order to live up to his father’s needs, but who told you that? Your parents? Your teachers? All the people who are telling you that George Bush is the devil are people who actually have a reason to hate him, and therefore think that everyone else should hate him.

A perfect example is the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees rivalry. In this situation George Bush is the Yankees, and the Yankees’ arch rivals, the Red Sox, are—respectively—the entire United States. For some, strange reason, the Yankees always beat the Red Sox and do everything the Sox don’t like, and because of this Boston has every right to hate the Yankees. Then along comes the Detroit Tigers—the youth of America. Detroit rarely ever sees the Yankees and their record is hardly affected by New York, so they have no real motives to despise them. But then the Red Sox talk to the Detroit Tigers and tell them how bad the Yankees have been towards them. Detroit then becomes Yankee Haters even though they shouldn’t be; they simply do it because they’re told to.

If that example didn’t clarify the America- Bush relations, the governmental issues are not for you. What I would like to know is why people specifically hate George Bush. Whenever I talk to this left-wing activist at me school about George Bush’s weaknesses, he talks and yells for hours and by the end I’m too confused to even consider myself an American. If anyone right now wants to tell me why Bush sucks, please do so in a short, simple list. As an example, I will provide the same list with reasons as to why I hate Zac Efron:

1. He’s made his career by being the biggest pussy on American television.
2. In an attempt to drift away from the Disney Channel, he acted in a real movie.
3. Unfortunately, that “real movie” was Hairspray, an even more womanly film than High School Musical.
4. Even though 70% of American girls would willingly sleep with him, he still on;y lets guys in his dressing room.
5. He’s a Grade-A fairy.

I don’t even think it’s possible for people to talk briefly about politics. They always babble on and on with one point leading to another. Some people believe this is why Lewis Black’s political stand up is so long and boring, while other’s believe it’s simply because he needs a hug.

But since George Bush is going to leave office in less than a year, we have no real reason to worry about him. He doesn’t have any sons, so we needn’t fret about a third Bush starting a war (“There are weapons of mass destruction in Canada!”) and Bush’s daughters are too busy getting drunk to run for office. Besides, our new candidates appear very promising.

Or do they?

I believe it was comedian Dave Chapelle who said:

“Even when I think about who I would vote for, I don’t even look at their political policies; I just look at their character.”

And Dave is right. No one wants to elect a leader who kicks kittens and runs over old ladies. We want someone who is a relaxed and moral man who makes good decisions. He pointed out how George Bush did cocaine, Bill Clinton got oral sex in the oval office, and how Monica Lewinsky managed to become the most famous head-giver in the history of America. Since everyone seemed to love Dave Chapelle’s stand up, I have decided to use his character-analyzing system of choosing a president. And I will start with Hillary Clinton seeing as how she is trying to become the first woman president despite the fact that she’s more a man than Paul Bunyan.

There’s only one real reason not to vote for Hillary Clinton, and that’s because—like all women—she’s a power-hungry bitch. She is determined to get as far as she can without doing any real work, and if she does become president our society will forever be changed. Her husband, Bill Clinton, was a fantastic president who everyone loved (including Monica Lewinsky) and Hillary thinks that she can just ride on the back of his success to clinch the Presidency. In a 1998 interview, Hillary Clinton was reported saying, “I’m not going to have some reporters pawing through our papers. We are the president.”

What? No! You are not the President. You are the first lady, the woman married to the president. Does congress allow you to veto a law? No, they don’t. Are you able to summon the American military at any moment or pardon any committed felon? No. And if that isn’t proof enough, here is another quote Hillary said in a 2001 interview when asked if she wants to run for president:

“I have said that I’m not running and I’m having a great time being pres— being a first-term senator.”

Once again, a little slip of the tongue makes Hillary appear like a pompous witch who is hungry for supremacy.

When I discussed with my friend why we shouldn’t elect Hillary, his only response was “we can’t elect another Clinton.” Why is that supposed to mean? From what I’m told, Bill Clinton was an amazing President who healed relations with Northern Ireland and England, released the “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” policy, and ended his presidential career with a 65% approval rating, the highest end-of-term approval rating of any President since Eisenhower. Hell, he was so good that he managed to get a blowjob in the white house and keep his job. Has anyone else done that? No! So when someone claims that we “can’t elect another Clinton,” they’re basically saying that we shouldn’t select a public leader so skilled they could please a nation so much that adultery in his office becomes perfectly logical.

Now, generally, when a wife comes home to find her husband getting his pole waxed by his intern, the situation is violent, drawn out, and confusing, but most likely ends with the man standing out on the sidewalk in his underwear while his disgruntled wife throws his belongs out at him. But when Hillary discovered the “stain” that convicted her husband, she seemed unfazed. In fact, she was seen on the news smiling by her husband’s side. Is that natural? Should a woman be supporting the man who cheating on her? Of course not, so when people saw Hillary respecting her husband in interviews they thought it was unnatural and that she should have acted like any real woman by—at minimum—appearing topless on Jerry Springer.

When I asked my dad why Hillary didn’t divorce Bill Clinton for cheating on her, he said that she “favored her position over love.” AKA: She’s a power-hungry whore. And now what’s the bitch doing? She’s running for president. Why? Because she’s a good leader and is strong enough to change history? Because America trusts her to save us from the downward spiral the U.S. is in? No. Hillary Clinton is running for president off of her husband’s fame. To help you better understand how unfit Hillary is for president, I have developed a list of things she does and does not have:

Things Hillary Clinton Doesn’t Have That Are Necessary To Become President:

1. Good looks
2. An IQ above 30
3. A controversial issue sure to boost her ahead of the competition
4. A penis

Things Hillary Clinton Does Have That Are Necessary To Become President:

1. A kick ass husband

Bill Clinton is the man. That’s all there is to it. I don’t need to pull out statistics and quotes to prove to you that President Clinton was the tits of the crop. My main reason: Bill Clinton—the most powerful man in the world from 1993 to 2001—got a blowjob during work and got away with it. There are assistant managers at Walgreens that can’t even do that, let alone a man constantly surrounded by secret service. And I don’t care what you say, Bill Clinton is the man, and Hillary is just riding on his reputation.

So go ahead and watch the news. Watch the political debates and the latest polls. Listen to the political chatter they all say, and try to decide who will be the best liar to elect. And maybe Hillary’s face will pop up more as the election creeps closer. But if you want to see Hillary now, I suggest you flip over to Jerry Springer.

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ENVY

I usually don’t post up random stuff that I think is funny, but while surfing the net I saw possibly the funniest picture in the history of mankind.

 

 

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