Wednesday, March 31, 2010
It just doesn't get old, does it, scrolling through pages of Tea Party protest photos full of signs scribbled in a red-hot grammar-killing rage? No, it doesn't. So here's a new repository for you east coast elites to snicker at all uppity-like.
Teabonics is American values. Time for Texas to writing another textbooks!
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
At long last, Ricky Martin is gay. I've been waiting for this day to come. It seems like just yesterday that Ricky was straight and singing duets with Madonna on his first American album or teaming up with Christian Aguilera. We all wanted him to be a big ole Mo, but what could we do? He obviously liked the ladies.
I remember buying La Vida Loca at my local Raleigh record store back in the terrible 1990s and staring in the face the judgmental hipster prick who rang me up, giving him a "yes, I am doing this, asshole" expression because, as impeccable as my taste in music usually is, I CAN NOT say no to a hot Puerto Rican guy wearing a tight sweater and singing at me. I just can't. (I also bought his previous album Vuelve, which is just as terrible/awesome, though less loca.)
Now that Ricky Martin is gay, he can do stuff like this
freely without having to worry about the townspeople whispering about how gay he seems. Because the townspeople now know. No more whispering!
In conclusion, mor bch pcs, pls, Rck.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Folks, if you're anything like me, you never made it to Rome all those years ago when you were traveling around Europe because your friend's wallet was stolen in Florence and she ended up having to fly back to Prague, leaving you to go it alone with your enormous backpack full of diabetes supplies. You'd heard all the terrible stories about robberies and attacks against tourists in Rome and were sure paranoid about having your insulin and syringes pilfered and resold on the streets of Vatican City and being left to rely on the kindness of strangers and an array of johns for your insulin supply and blood glucose test strips.
So you didn't end up going to Rome and instead forced yourself on some folks you met at the hotel and went with them to Pisa, hmph. Not. A good. Decision. (For the scrapbooks.) So you never got to see Michelangelo's famous
But now, thanks to modern technology and other junk science, you can visit the Chapel without even having to stop m-bating. Go to this site and git yerself some old time religion.
Sarah Palin is straight up sending mixed messages to her sheeple in the Tea Party: they should keeping standing but, in fact, they should probably shut up for the good of the movement. But what are they supposed to do while they're standing up? Protests are LONG! And should Sarah Palin also stand up but shut up?
We are all Sarah Palin today.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Folks, these two Texans are not only obvious patriots, they are also deeply in love. The silver fox on the left is Rep. Randy Neugebauer, the hero who, for the sake of the country and freedom fries, yelled "baby killer" at Bart Stupak the other day in Congress. The hot momma on the right is his supportive wife Dana (known in Texas circles as Rapid-Eye-Movement McGee). In the wake of the kerfuffle over his announcement of Bart Stupak's new nickname, Neugebauer cut a campaign ad requesting money so he can continue to call people baby killers and whatnot, in Congress, on the taxpayers' dime, in Jesus' name.
In the ad he appears with lovable, twitchy Dana, and I'd like to officially endorse her for her husband's congressional seat and/or President right now. This is a woman who knows how to appear in a campaign ad. She's dynamic! Impassioned! Awake! Her husband should obviously never be let out of the house again unchaperoned, but her? Let her serve openly. Elect this woman and her beady eyes and cotton mouth. Freedom demands that she serve our great nation in some sort of official capacity. ALSO SHE NEEDS MORE COCAINE.
Now, some of the stills in the below campaign video I've made for Mrs. Dana might make you think that Lady Neugebauer has dead eyes. YOU WOULD BE WRONG. Her eyes are alive like danger. She's sending coded messages with those things, messages that will be intercepted by all liberty-loving Americans in Sarah Palin's Alaska.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Bad news, Lost fans: it is becoming increasingly obvious that the writers of this show will never ever be able to resolve all of the mysteries they've presented us with. Sure, they've (kind of?) explained the smoke monster, but what about the other monster, the one with real teeth, who killed and ate the pilot in the, er, pilot? Have they explained that? (Maybe. I have no idea.)
Another mystery it is becoming increasingly clear that the creators of this excellent series will never clear up is what Richard, the Island God of Eyeliner, looks like without his shirt on. It pains me to type those words, because I know that each and every one of us diehard fans have been waiting for answers to this one. Still, it appears that such is the case. Last night's episode was a Richard-palooza—the entire hour was his and his alone—and still there was not a nipple, no furry stomach, no bulging unbridled man-muscle in sight. There was one scene where his shirt was unbuttoned to the
So I am now having to take matters into my own hands. If the folks at Lost headquarters are not going to provide us with the closure we need on this most pressing of issues, I will do my best to do my duty to do it for them. I've just completed some extensive journalistic research and am happy to report I've found some answers that, though they may not be 100% true, are probably true enough. We will NOT be cockteased anymore. If the health care bill can pass, Richard can take his goddamned shirt off. See below for the Internet's hottest-ever online gallery.
Monday, March 22, 2010
In case you haven't seen this yet, here is a new online resource for great context-free one-liners to use at your next cocktail party, courtesy of Bea Arthur. Hopefully this site is a work in progress because I didn't see my favorite one ("We have Maalox and estrogen.")
Friday, March 19, 2010
Good God, I had to go all the way to MySpace to get this dang video. My Space, people. Who goes there?!
Anyway, the spring warmth has infected me with a thrilling and probably ill-advised optimism about my newly repaired bike, my cat, and the health care bill. This starry-eyed euphoria will come crashing down this weekend, surely, but in the mean time, let's just enjoy this infectious pop tune by the nice Santigold lady.
There is, I guess, more sex to be had with these ladies, the stars of the forthcoming girls-night-out spectacle of sadness Worn Out Vaginas and the City 2: The Sag. But where is Samantha? The answer is, her muff fell off as she was getting out of her limo so she had to go have it ironed back on. Cynthia Nixon witnessed this unfortunate episode, which is why she is physically unable to smile.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
What is he waiting for?! It's flying over Malaysia right now, but it could surely reach our shores in a week or two.
There's no time to waste!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Finally, Japan! Jesus, what took so long? This "Dog Wash Machine" at Tokyo's Pet World Joyful Honda should have been available in the 80s, for Quiche Lorraine.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Alexander Hamilton, the Secretary of the Treasury under George Washington, believed in a strong national government and was the main proponent of a national bank--the Bank of the United States--that would have a major role in regulating and promoting economic growth.
Know what else is funny about this congenitally dumb woman's sign? Alexander Hamilton also said this:
Why has government been instituted at all? Because the passions of man will not conform to the dictates of reason and justice without constraint.
And also this:
Men often oppose a thing merely because they have had no agency in planning it, or because it may have been planned by those whom they dislike.
In conclusion, George Washington, America's first tyrant, was soft on terror, Thomas Jefferson invented socialism, and Phyllis Schlafly was our most important Founding Father. Read all about it in Texas's new history textbooks.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Folks, it turns out that one of the privileges/drawbacks of serving in America's Congress is that you get to/have to shower with White House Chief of Staff/Executive Silver Stallion Rahm Emanuel in the Congressional gym. This makes total sense. As you know, Congress is the location of America's daily metaphorical dick-measuring contest, in which whoever proves that they have the largest one (extra points for thickness) gets to push through their agenda. But really, just like in the best gay pornos, the showers is where the work really gets done.
Now, Emanuel's job is to ensure that the president's agenda gets implemented, so naturally he must spend a lot of time in the congressional showers laying out the reasons that representatives should get on board. This means that poor Rahm has to see a lot of things that other human Americans are mercifully spared--that is, naked, saggy representatives. It also means that naked representatives are allowed to see something that, alas, we other human Americans are denied--that is, Rahm Emanuel's superhuman cock and pendulous, low-swinging balls—the Genitalia of Hot 'n Luscious Liberty.
It's a sad truth of our democracy that you have to be elected by the people in order to see such massive instruments of change in action, but we can sate our curiosity with images like the above one of Rahm and now-disgraced Representative Eric Massa taken by Eric Cantor and uploaded to his flickr account. This was shot right before Rahm famously started digging his index finger into Eric Massa's chest and yelling at him about being a dumbass. What most people don't know is that the finger-pointing incident was just a prelude to the Dickslapping Opera of Death Rahm went on to visit upon a crouched and hysterical Massa, who bathroom attendants say enjoyed every last minute of it.
Massa has now resigned from Congress to embark on a new career as a Tickle Party Planner.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Folks, when I ultimately win my Oscar (for the screen adaptation of Precious 2: I Was Born in November, Bitchez, based on the Novel Pull This by Tim), please remind me not to make an obnoxious quip at the very beginning of my acceptance speech about how I’ve already won two of these for some other dumb bullshit that I did and am starting to feel greedy. Also, please advise me not to dress up like the dictionary definition of a Douchebag A-hole. Jeez, this woman.
We can only hope that at some point in the evening, Gabourey Sidibe administered a good, sound beating backstage or at the Vanity Fair Oscar Party or in Elton John’s cock 'n balls-shaped pool or wherever. If there is indeed a God to thank for my (eventual) Oscar, Mo'Nique joined in.
To get the nasty stink of this awful woman's hat out of your nostrils, have a look down here at my new girlfriend Gabourey Sidibe being introduced alongside all the other best actor/actress nominees at the beginning of the broadcast. Girl uses her 4 seconds to do some good in the world.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Ok, I know one of my last Jukebox posts was also Goldfrapp, but that was only a teaser for this one, so stop complaining. Alison G don't disappoint in this gay-ass video. She's all salty 'n sultry in tattered clothes driving a big rig through the desert. The big rig is also a rocket is also a ginormous cock, yay! There's also a voodoo doll and a cripple, both nods to the book of Revelation.
This video will create more gayboys worldwide than "Lucky Star" ever did.
Friday, March 5, 2010
At long last, there's an article on a Washington insider I want to read about that's not Trig Palin! The Washington Post's Ezra Klein is a 24-year-old policy powerhouse who appears all the f*ck over cable news as an analyst and, more importantly, is my secret boyfriend.
Li'l Ezra first popped up on my radar back in 2007 when he challenged Michelle Malkin, Dippy Right-Wing Outrage Barbie, to a debate on the SCHIP children's health care program when he was at the American Prospect. Malkin, if you don't know her, is the perpetrator of many crimes against taste/wonderful gems of political comedy, like this terrible thing and this holiday-themed grotesquery. (Warning: these are things you can never un-see. If your eyes do not stop making a crackling sound after a few minutes, splash them with a cool handful of this.) Malkin hates the SCHIP program so much and thinks we should instead spend that money on interning more Japanese people.
I wanted this battle to happen so bad. I wanted to come home, turn on my computer, strip down, slather myself with baby oil, get the plate of Twinkies out of the fridge, and watch the f*ck out of that debate on Bloggingheads.tv or whatever. Sadly, Malkin declined the invitation for fear that her face would appear like a smooshed aphid next to Our Ezra and His Immaculate Visage. (She needn't have worried. Her face looks like that no matter who she's sitting next to.)
The world lost a lot that day. Thankfully, Ezra is there to soothe our troubled souls every day on his blog, where he types sexytime posts all day long in his 2xist underwear and athletic socks.
I've yet to receive Ezra's response to my invitation to him to debate his nerdy jewy hotness, in boxer briefs, with guitars and a boombox, at the Beacon Theater, on a chase lounge. (I've just now issued this invitation.) I'll keep you guys posted.
Monday, March 1, 2010
This poor kid. He just wants to sell some balloons so he can buy some candy. And who decides to make an appearance? Pennywise the Clown, eater of children.
Jesus. Life in Pakistan is hard enough without some subterranean shape shifter whose favorite costume is some Ringling Bros. one-piece he picked up in 1918 shows up and starts spouting a bunch of gibberish like "everything floats down here" or some bullshit.
I'm just gonna say it. Pennywise is a terrorist.
When is Obama gonna kill him with a drone?