Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Way to Go, Bonaduce. Kick Ass.

Perhaps the funniest thing about these anti-American government wingnuts is that they’re so paranoid, full of shit, and unhinged they even mistrust people from their own ranks. For example, if you search google video for “Danny Bonaduce,” another version of this video comes up, created by some other crazed conspiracy rimjob, claiming:

John Conner is obnoxiously rude, and hinders the propagation of truth; I believe intentionally. He’s promoting mind controlling Christianity, promoting one of the worst 911 documentaries, and perpetuating the stereotypical image of a whack-job conspiracy theorist.

Riiiggghhhtt…. And you’re not adding to the problem by espousing even more far-fetched beliefs. (By the way, this guy’s website——has interesting topics such as “The Holohoax,” “Master List of Jewish Influence,” and “David Duke on the Holocaust Conference CNN.” Need I really explain why these people are screwballs?)

How do you fucktards get your ideas? I swear there’s a conspiracy nut somewhere in the country right now with his head in the microwave, his dick in a jar of chunky peanut better, and his greasy thumb jammed up his ass dreaming up the latest clusterfuck of an anti-Bush, anti-America, anti-Jew conspiracy theory. I hope these lunatics bleed to death trying to cut off their own fingerprints or have some sort of electrical accident involving a tinfoil condom and a light socket.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006


I saw the movie Rest Stop a few weeks ago. It was pretty cool and kind of weird, so I decided to hit up the ol' to see what other people were saying about it. Unsurprisingly, many people were rather flummoxed by the movie. At any rate, I did my good deed for the day and explained the possible meanings of the movie and some symbology hidden in the film to the folks on the imdb message boards. Hopefully this will help some of the confused. I would like to complain, however, that imdb censors profanity on their boards. What kind of bullshit juvenile nonsense is that?

Spoilers Ahead

So who was KZL?
By goodrem-delta

Of all the theories:

1. she was dreaming
2. it was the ranger
3. it was the mobile home old man that proclaimed the angel of death

who was it?

soo confused

what a random movie, im currently planning a horror movie night and this is definitly in the no pile. altho we might watch it drunk, that wud make a whole lotta sense to see it then lol


So who was KZL?
By morbid_misanthrope

In the DVD extras, there's a clip of the father of the religious freakshow burying the trucker, talking about taking that secret to the grave. There's also a scene where the trucker kills the religious family while they enjoy a picnic (the fucked up midget with the camera seems to be spared). Of course, there was also a scene of the twins jerking off in a dark room, so who knows what the hell any of this clusterfuck of a movie is supposed to mean. Here are a few possibilities:

1.) KZL 303 was the trucker's license plate number because KILL666 was already taken by Glen Benton from Deicide.

2.) The identity of the trucker is none other than Azazel, the fallen angel of iniquity, over-aggressive driving, and plot holes (which, interestingly, he can drive his truck through).

3.) Everyone in the entire movie was really just dead and fucking around the whole time--even the cameraman was dead, as were the director, writer, three producers, and the key grip guy who kept making "grip my dick" jokes during production.

4.) The whiskey the girl was drinking in the ranger station was 31% pee.

5.) O.J. Simpson says he totally had nothing to do with the killing, but he has a few suggestions for the trucker.

6.) The whole point of the movie was to make Christians from the South look bad by exaggerating stereotypes. The director felt it was a little too obviously a jab at religious types, so he added the trucker, the girl, her boyfriend, and Joey Lawrence. He also deleted a scene where the family whips each other with handfuls of rattlesnakes while Mel Gibson's "Passion of the Christ" plays from a projector.

Anyway, I'm no expert, but I believe I was drunk enough while watching this movie to catch all the hints the director left to reveal the terrible truths in the film. If none of those explanations work for you, feel free to consider the whole movie one long advertisement for Southwest Airlines. "Southwest Airlines: If you would have flown with us, that crazy bastard in the yellow truck wouldn't have stuck a drill in your leg and cut your tongue out."

Friday, December 08, 2006

A Statement from One of the Followers of the Religion of Peace


Dec. 8, 2006 — ABC News has learned a Chicago-area man has been charged with plotting a terrorist attack at a Rockford mall during the holiday shopping season.

Derrick Shareef, of Rockford, Ill was arrested Wednesday by the Joint Terrorism Task Force when he met an undercover agent to trade hand grenades and a 9-millimeter handgun for a set of stereo speakers.

Shareef is accused of planning to use firearms and explosives to attack the CherryVale shopping mall in Rockford. The alleged plan was to target the 130-store mall on the Friday before Christmas.

In September, Shareef became acquainted with a confidential witness who was cooperating with the FBI and confided to him that he wanted to commit acts of violent jihad against civilians.

On December 2, Shareef and the confidential source made video tapes of their last wills and testament.

On the video, Shareef again mentions jihad and says, "This is a warning to those who disbelieve, that we are here for you and I am ready to give my life."

From Shareef’s affidavit (from

7. A few minutes after SHAREEF and the CS discussed shaving their body hair and meditating, SHAREEF stated: “I’m ready, man, these kafirs [a term translated as “infidel”] don’t give a damn about us, niggers don’t care what happens to the Umma [an Arabic word meaning community or nation that is commonly used to mean the collective nation of Islamic states], about sisters getting raped, about brothers losing their (UI). They don’t care, man. All they care about is (UI)… I probably would have eventually ended up just stabbing the shit out of some Jews or something. Just stabbing them niggers with a steak knife. Dude, I ain’t gonna lie. Because during that war with Hezbolla, man, I had already started to look at synagogues out here in the DeKalb area and everything. I was looking at synagogues, I was doing mapquest…. One of them was down the block from the masjid [mosque], I knew they do their thing on Saturdays, right. I was like, I’m gonna lay low out here, I’m gonna camp out overnight, be out there on Friday night after jumma [Friday prayer] or Saturday morning about 12:00 or 1:00 o’clock. I be there. And as soon as I see them fools going in the building, I had planned on trying to grab one, depending on how it was, niggers trying to run in the building all at once and open up shop, I was just going to go over there and shank one or two of them.” A few minutes later, SHAREEF stated: “They definitely gonna know that this shit ain’t over and they not as safe as they thought.”

Wow. Somebody get this guy a Nobel Peace Prize.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Just for the Halibut

I just saw a commercial for Britney Spears perfume. Because of the recent underoo-free pictures of Britney, I have decided not to make any obvious jokes about the perfume or what it might smell like … I’ll just suggest that retailers stock it in the seafood section.

Monday, December 04, 2006

Sweet Mental Powers

I’ve posited previously that my life would be vastly more enjoyable if I had the power to make people’s hearts explode with crazy mind powers. To that I would like to add that it would be pretty sweet if I could make people catch on fire with thought. And while I’m at it, I’d give myself the power to give people cancer shaped like ninja stars. Why the fuck not? Presumably, if I possessed one supernatural power, many others would also be possible. At any rate, I wish I had those powers. It’d be like “Damn. The liquor store is full of illegal aliens cashing their checks; it’ll take, like, twenty minutes to buy my whiskey. I don’t want to wait that long to get drunk. Oh, wait a minute, I can move to the front of line because everyone else in the store is on fire.” Or when I’m renting a movie and some peon is blocking the fucking aisle—yammering into her cell phone and staring into space like a wild turkey drowning in the rain—I wouldn’t have to punch her. Instead, I would tap her on the shoulder and say, “Ma’am, you need to get yourself to a hospital because you now have brain cancer shaped like a ninja star. So, please, get the fuck out of my way.” Every day would be like Christmas morning.

I can think of at least eighty-three times I would have used those badass powers today. While waiting in line to buy alcohol, this smelly old lady was in line behind me. Well, not so much behind me as practically on me. She was so close behind me I felt like I was visiting Barney Frank’s house. As you might imagine, I was displeased. So, politely, I said, “Shit, lady, do you really think you’re going to get to the register any faster with your finger up my ass?” She didn’t say anything or back up at all. She just kept scowling at me and breathing old lady pill breath on me. I thought that perhaps she didn’t hear me, but I know the lady at the register did, because after I said it she made a face like she threw up a little or something. There I stood, getting breathed on by the Grim Reaper’s 5:30 appointment, imagining how sweet it would be if I could make her heart explode like an overstuffed haggis in the microwave.

At that point, I began to wonder why it was taking so goddamned long to get to the register. It turns out the old lady in front of me was fucking around, holding up the line. I don’t know exactly what she was doing, but there were two employees ringing her up. I guess she was using coupons from the store’s newspaper inserts—she had a pile of them and was tearing out one coupon from each. Being the asshole that I am, I have to assume she was using the same cat food coupon from each insert because she’s poor and has to eat discount Frisky Feast (it’s a well-known fact that 93% of old people are forced to eat cat food because they blew all of their money on telemarketing scams). One, I don’t care; two, she’s still holding up the line with this bullshit and writing a check for seven dollars and thirty-two cents. You can bet I was wishing for some old lady flambĂ©.

Just so you don’t think all of my anger is directed at old ladies, there was this little kid I saw that deserved some cancer. This little shit was one of about twelve of Pedro and Maria’s brood of illegal refugee children, probably all of them from some South American country I’ve never heard of, ruled by a small-prick dictator who has people shot for catching malaria. This future criminal, certainly no older than three, purposely knocked over a big display in the video rental store. While the one employee present at the time cleaned up the mess, that little shit stole a bunch of candy and walked out of the store. (I wonder if he’s related to those fuckers who keep stealing my trashcans.) His mother caught him a few minutes later and tried to make him apologize, but he didn’t. Maybe he hadn’t learned to talk yet or, more likely, he didn’t speak any English. At first, I was thinking immolation or cancer, but then I decided drop-kicking the kid into traffic would be more hilarious.

With my amazing powers, I would also dispatch Britney Spears. I may never have met her, but I’m sick of hearing about her worn-out twazzer. Honestly, if I gave two shits about Britney’s pooter, I’d pay K-Fed the two dollars he charges to smell his fingers. I’m serious—he’s standing on the median at a busy intersection near my house; he has a cardboard sign and everything. “Smell my Brit-Rich Fingers. Two Bucks.” He may not be a good rapper, but he’s a great entrepreneur. Anyway, Spears, Hilton, Lohan, Federline: flaming, ninja star-shaped cancer for all of them. The same goes for Madonna. I’ll take care of Gwyneth Paltrow while I’m at it. We’ll call it a twofer.

And this is just the tip of the asshole iceberg. I’d get rid of so many people, commies like Lenin and Stalin would look like failures. At least I’d have a good reason for killing everyone: they pissed me off. If I ever do develop these powers, I’m sure you’ll see it on the news … unless, of course, you pissed me off.