Jihahads!

If I ever opened up a comedy club in the Middle East, that's what I would call it: Jihahads.

There's a car dealership in Columbus, Ohio after my own heart. Apparently they're advertising "Fatwa Friday" when they'll declare a "jihad on the US auto market."

I don't see why people are so upset about this. From what I remember, there have been much more insensitive advertising campaigns.

There was the "Your Mother Is a Cunt, So Buy That Cunt the Douche She Deserves This Christmas" Holiday advertising campaign by Summer's Eve. I don't even know why they would advertise douche as a Christmas gift, let alone one that a child would buy his or her mother. But, I don't know much about the advertising world.

Then there was the car company in the 1960s who was cashing in on the Civil Rights movement with this: "Tired of sitting in the back, darkies? With our Honda motorcycles, you'll always sit up front. Free fire hose-repellant umbrella with every purchase."

But, I think the worst advertising in recent history has to have taken place in the early 1940s. Though, I have to give them credit for creativity. There was a German bagel company which sold bagels like fortune cookies. Inside each one was a note you were supposed to save and read at the end of your meal. Once unrolled, it read, "These bagels were baked with loving care in the same General Electric oven as your grandfather. Our secret ingredient? Real Jew tears."

Finally! Proof I'm the Smartest Man Alive!

Just now on Jeopardy I was able to give the correct question when none of the contestants could.

The clue: Appropriately, this word comes from the Greek words meaning "sharp" & "dull."

How do you not know the answer to that if you have any knowledge of words? These are people that know names like Marc Chagall, Peepee the Sophisticated Turd Burglar and Alex Trebek, yet they don't know this?

If you don't know the correct question, you're never allowed to read this blog again.

For those of you who are defying my commands to leave, it's "What is an oxymoron?" I answered it without hesitating like somebody just asked me if I'd ever want to see Rosie O'Donnell's bacon-wrapped vagina (YES!).

By the way, have you tried Red Lobster's Rosie O'Donnell bacon-wrapped vagina? It's to dyke for. Get it? I'm a bigot.

Sexy Blasphemy!

This is the kind of stuff I think about before I fall asleep. As I was lying in bed last night, I couldn't get this idea out of my mind.

A man and a woman are about to have sex for the first time. The man decides to try to use his way with words to keep the woman in the mood.

"Hey, baby. Why don't you take off them panties?"

She does.

"Damn, girl. You have the pussy of an angel."

Yeah. So, the last words to go through my mind last night were, "Damn, girl. You have the pussy of an angel." Needless to say, I had a dream I was fucking Natalee Holloway.

K-Fed Goes Number Two All Over New Son!

Second verse, same as the first. Not quite taking a page out of George Foreman's naming book, but similarly, Kevin Federline and Britney Spears have given their new son the same initials as their previous son, Sean Preston Federline. Immediately after naming their new son Sutton Pierce Federline, K-Fed had this to say:

I gave 'em both da initials SPF because they gonna be needing all that protection from the lyrics I be spitting that are hot like fire.

He was so proud of coming up with that that nobody had the heart to tell him that his reasoning was faulty. One reporter did start to say something about how fire doesn't really give off ultra-violet rays, but Mr. Fed responded with this:

Ultra-violet? My lyrics is mad ultra-violet. I be talking about killing fools left and right with the gat strapped to my inner thigh, son!

I don't know why he carries his gun in the same spot as a hooker from the Old West, but I'm sure it's "like crazy intimidatin' and shit. Popozao!"I could say a million things about the above video, but, honestly, does anything need to be said?

Who's the Big Birthday Boy?

Apparently not me.

This past Thursday was my birthday. Normally on my birthday I don't post anything about it because I don't want to appear to be pandering for the obligatory, "Happy birthday, faggot!" posts. But, this was no normal birthday.

You, being not me and having normal friendships and relationships, would assume that, when you tell somebody that you hate something, they would refrain from subjecting you to said object of hate. However, since I am a terrible person, people feel that, on my birthday, I should have to bask in all that I hate and be made miserable.

I've mentioned before here about a couple of my biggest pet peeves. I hate when I see a girl driving a car that is over-the-top girly--especially when they have that stupid license plate frame that reads, "I'm the Princess, that's why," or "Daddy's Little Princess," or, as I wrote before, "DVDA Princess." Whatever. I just hate the whole princess thing and find it obnoxious, fake and trying too hard.

I also have moaned here about another of the things that bothers me to no end: animals dressed up in clothing. I just don't understand this phenomenon. Animals have been around for longer than humans and they've never needed a wedding dress, a trenchcoat with pocketwatch, or a flapper costume. Yet, once humans domesticate them, they feel the need to humiliate it and dress it up as a pirate. If you want to dress up as a pirate, that's fine (and awesome), but don't hot glue an eye patch on your dog and make it look like an idiot against its will so you can be entertained.

I give you this background because my coworkers felt it necessary to do this to my desk at work (click the picture to see it full size).Pink streamers, a pink boa, pictures of animals dressed in clothing taped on to everything.

A closer look.On my monitor, that's a picture of John Wayne Gacy with a long alliterative sentence. I mentioned to them that I hate alliteration at one point, too. I was kidding about that, but they ran with it.

The crowning achievement, so to speak, and I feel the quintessential item that best reflects what I hate about the whole Princess thing is this.They taped a crown that says "Birthday Princess" on the top of my monitor.

I get to work earlier than the people who decorated my desk, but I must project an air of rage on a daily basis because, being a good sport, I left all this stuff up. They, however, felt that there was a 75% chance that I would tear it all down as soon as I saw it.

So, all day I sat at my desk surrounded by this stuff. Also, there's nothing about the decoration that specifically says birthday in giant writing to somebody just casually walking by, it's just a whole lot of pink and streamers. I work with a lot of people and I don't know many of them, so there's a good chance that a lot of them thought that it was my coming out party.

Also, I sit in a fairly high traffic area and the work that I do for this large Internet search company (Why am I being vague? You can actually see the name of the company in one of the pictures) sometimes requires me to work with all sorts of porn. There's never a worse time to have a greasy dildo on your computer screen than when your desk is decorated like mine.

To give you an example of the kinds of things I have to deal with, in the picture of the Birthday Princess crown above, I noticed this after the fact, but it's Jesus karma that it happened to be there. I blurred out most of the screen to help keep my work confidential blah blah, but you can clearly see the phrase "granny sex toys."

Welcome to my world.

Congratulations, Britney Spears!

You've managed to give birth to two separate children before I've had one birthday. You know why? Because you've got a vagina made out of class.

They haven't announced the newborn boy's name yet, but may I suggest Wyatt Tre Ash Spears?

I Love Robot News!

Google news, as some of you may know, is a site that aggregates all of the most popular news stories and sorts them in order of importance by how many stories there are about each topic. Well, since it's run by robots and no human is actually in charge of them, sometimes there are mistakes that work out for all of us.

This is one of those.
Granted, I did not click through to read the article, so this could be a perfectly legit pairing of image and story. But, more than likely, it's a mistake. Therefore, in order to help google save face, I'll write the corresponding story.

Bin Laden Trail 'Stone Cold'

Chicago, Illinois

It was a battle for the ages. Two teams, one ball, more than eight hours of basketball.

It began just like any other night. It was the homecoming basketball game for the students of Chicago 'Stone Cold' Steve Austin high as they battled the newly-minted Dekalb Osama Bin Laden. Their name is singular, like the Miami Heat or the Orlando Magic, but they represent a group.

One team, the 'Stone Cold,' dressed in jean shorts and jerseys with skulls on them, who dribbled with only their middle fingers while appearing heavily intoxicated looked to be the underdogs going into the contest. However, nobody knew just how far the Bin Laden--who recently changed their team mascot from the Kadaffi in order to keep up with changing times--would take their new image.

Well, folks, this reporter has an answer. Too far.

Dressed from head to toe in robes, turbans and as much beard as a team filled with 16-year-olds could possibly manage to grow, the Bin Laden hit the floor at 5:30 pm for the contest. The assault rifles and bandoliers each boy chose to wear, however, would prove to be too cumbersome.

The opening tip was about as unorthodox as things get. As soon as the ball was thrown into the air, the center and power forward of the 'Stone Cold' kicked the center of the Bin Laden in the stomach and just before they could pull him to the ground for their devastating finishing move, two paper airplanes loaded with dynamite sailed in from the stands and exploded on the two 'Stone Cold' player's faces.

The referee, however, did not call a foul as this has never happened in sports, so play continued three on five until the first timeout.

That's when things really got confusing.

After the first four minutes leading up to that timeout, the 'Stone Cold,' still reeling from the paper airplane incident with their center and power forward, the two seven foot tall boys affectionately known to fellow students as "The Twin Towers," refused to play against the Bin Laden any longer.

Instead, the 'Stone Cold,' in an unprecented move, feeling that their 9-8 score was good enough, ran out of their gym and into a local elementary school gym where they found one mustachioed, beret-wearing boy bullying other students, holding the basketball away from them, acting like he would give it to them, then saying, "Psyche," and so on. Real Bush League stuff, man. Completely bogus.

Now this was a job the coach of the 'Stone Cold' felt like they could handle. The team hit the floor and dominated the bully. It was only a matter of time until these students would be playing basketball by themselves in peace. Or so they thought.

Keep in mind, back at the 'Stone Cold' gym, the game hadn't been called because, as the 'Stone Cold' left the gym, the Bin Laden disappeared as well. Some people think they went under the bleachers, while others felt they could be in the locker room or hiding beneath the snack bar counter by the Jujubes. A ref and a few fans were still there just sort of milling around wondering if the 'Stone Cold' were going to come back to finish the game or what.

Now, with the bully removed, the 'Stone Cold' felt it would be easy to leave and let the rest of the students continue their game. As they went to leave, however, the newly freed students shouted back in anger and started to throw rocks (which is weird that they were able to get their hands on some since this was inside a gym, but whatever) at the 'Stone Cold' and their coach. See, what the 'Stone Cold' didn't realize was that, when the bully left, he took the only basketball they had. Without a basketball, they didn't know what to do.

At the deadline of this writing, the 'Stone Cold' are still trying to teach the previously-bullied students how to play basketball since, as they came to learn, they had never actually even played basketball before; they'd always just sort of complained about the guy who had it.

That leads us to the title of this article, "Bin Laden Trail 'Stone Cold.'" See, technically, they do. They're down 9-8, but, the longer it takes for the game to start in that gym again, the more it's this reporter's opinion that they'll never get back to the game they were there for in the first place.

To: Katie Couric's Lazy Ass!

As you may know, Katie Couric has recently started to anchor the CBS Evening News. By the way, since she's a woman, I don't think she should receive the title of anchor. How about dinghy or arm floaties? She arm floaties the CBS Evening News.

Well with her first act as the new arm floaty, she has asked you, the audience (I seriously doubt I share any demographics with evening news) to come up with a way for her to sign off from the news.

You know how Walter Cronkite would say, "And that's the way it is"? Well, she wants something like that but less jowly.

With this in mind, I have decided to lend my brilliant writing mind to her cause.

• May the reaper take you in your sleep.
• Goodnight and bite my vagenis.
• So, we done here? Good. I gots to get my freak on.
• I give tonight's news two titties up.
• Have you forgotten yet that you've seen the inside of my asshole on national television, America?
• Do you really think I'm a whore now, Daddy?
• Hugs, kisses and handjobs.
• I hope you all don't get Hep C tonight.
• So suck it, Matt Lauer!
• Peace out, my niggas. (She stresses the "as" part of niggas very hard so they know she's using slang and not being racist--though, off camera, she is very racist. She owns ten slaves and has named them all "Al Roker" one through ten)

Those are just a few ideas. It's hard to think of overtly sexist or racist comments to use since I've just unleashed them on my black girlfriend whom I just beat the shit out of. (Not ending this sentence in a preposition is impossible: whom I just beat out of the shit? Granted, we normally race knee-deep in shit on Fridays to the Coldstone Creamery down the street, but not today.)

Oh, Me So Suri!

Vanity Fair, the magazine that I've never read, but I assume by its name that it's about people dressed in corsets and knickers discussing their most recent bloodletting, will finally have the pictures nobody has been waiting for: Suri Cruise and two complete strangers.As you can see by the photo, she has Katie's eyes and L. Ron Hubbard's soul. The reason Tom is holding her in his jacket like so is because she's covering up the writing on his shirt, "I'm not gay, but the balls slapping against my taint are." That shirt is counterproductive to the image he is trying to maintain--just a startlingly poor choice for a photo shoot.

I can see by the cover photo that they've decided to recreate the exact way that they stole this child from the hospital and out of the arms of her real mother in the first place.

I Hate Comics: Blowout!

I couldn't think of anything to write about since I can't bring myself to make fun of The Crocodile Hunter's death. So, as a tribute, I'll go old school in spades.

Modern Poetry Deconstruction!

Many people are familiar with so-called "classic" poetry such as Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken, O Captain My Captain by Walt Whitman, and Horton Hears a Who by Dr. Seuss, but these are all works which have been deconstructed over and over by scholars throughout the world.

That is why I have taken it upon myself to usher in a new era of poetry analyzation. Kicking off the series will be what I consider the quintessential modern poem: Unpretty by TLC.T-Boz:
I wish I could tie you up in my shoes
Make you feel unpretty too

The first two lines of this song give you the essentials. You learn who she is talking to and what she wants to discuss. It is obvious, from the first two words, "I wish," that she is talking to a genie. So she has found a magic lamp and her first wish is to have the genie wear her shoes. At first the reader may be thinking, "But why would she waste it on making a genie wear her shoes?" Well, it's common knowledge that genies do not have legs, hence no feet; they are a constantly-hovering torso composed of smoke which flows from a lamp. This request is a catch-22 in the world of geniedom and more than likely would result in the genie becoming mortal and dying of old age immediately.

Only two lines in, and T-Boz slayed a genie already. Powerful stuff, people.

I was told I was beautiful
But what does that mean to you

This interrogative is meant as a rhetorical question. Ms. Boz does not want an answer from the dead genie body. She's being ironic because it's hard to believe anybody could find an old genie attractive (except for Barbara Eden's husband, am I RIGHT?)

Look into the mirror who's inside there
The one with the long hair
Same old me again today (yeah)

Who is inside a mirror? Well, obviously T-Boz has been hauled into the police station for questioning concerning the gruesome murder of an ancient wish granter and she's calling out the people who she knows are watching her from behind the glass. She's a clever girl. She's getting inside their head. She creeps them out even more when she specifies that she's talking about "the one with the long hair." It's like when psychic mediums say they're getting a message from "Joe" from the other side. You know a dead Joe, don't you? Spooky. The final line is her preparing to make an insanity plea. If you notice the use of parenthesis, you'll obviously realize that she is agreeing with herself--classic schizophrenia.

Chilli:
My outsides look cool
My insides are blue

She's letting you know who is saying this part. Her name is Chilli and she's describing symptoms one may have when they are, in fact, chilly.

Every time I think I'm through
It's because of you

A warlock is putting words into her brain via telepathy.

I've tried different ways
But it's all the same

I think she's saying, "Once you go black, you never go back." Admittedly, however, this part is over my head.

At the end of the day
I have myself to blame
I'm just trippin'

"I'm just trippin'." Do you feel that? The goosebumps? It's this scholar's opinion that that line is the modern "A thing of beauty is a joy forever." My man John Keats said that. John Keats! That's my man.

Chorus:
T-Boz & Chilli:
You can buy your hair if it won't grow

This is a risky move. In the middle of the song, they've decided to target the alopecia demographic. Risky, but I think it works. What say you, America?

You can fix your nose if he says so

This is obviously a call upon the old saying, "Don't cut off your nose to spite your face." They're updating by saying, "You know what? DO cut off your nose to spite your face, but only if he tells you to." Who is "he" in this case? Jesus.

You can buy all the make-up that Mac can make

This is a trick statement because everybody knows that Mac is actually a bearded old cobbler and he doesn't even manufacture make-up.

But if you can't look inside you

Yeah, idiot. Can't you look inside you? They're calling upon the reader or listener to disembowel him or herself in an act of defiance against X-ray specs and also those bullies at the beach who kick sand in your face in the back of comic books.

Find out who am I to
Be in the position to make me feel so damn unpretty

This is where the ladies bring it home. It's basically a reiteration of their mantra, "Once you go black, you never go back" with the addition of "The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice."