Friday, September 16, 2011


Joe McGinniss’ new book slams Sarah Palin, alleging she once used cocaine and had extramarital affairs. Several of the book’s most explosive claims are all over the gossip sites recently. I was able to acquire an advance copy of the book by stealing it, and boy, let me tell you, there’s some nasty stuff in there. Some of the scandals include:

1. Sarah did cocaine for over a decade, often combining it with other drugs.
2. Sarah has had numerous extramarital affairs, with both men and women.
3. There are sex tapes. As in, more than one.
4. Sarah still does marijuana, often along with her daughter Bristol.
5. Sarah embezzled money while she was governor.
6. An enemy of the Palins, allegedly shot by accident while hunting, was really murdered in cold blood by Sarah.
7. Trig is not her child.
8. Bristol is not Todd’s child.
9. Todd Palin has also had affairs, mostly with other men while working on the oil fields.
10. Sarah beats Todd on a regular basis.
11. Sarah was diagnosed as a sociopath as a child, but her parents covered it up.
12. Sarah can’t read.
13. All of the Palin’s children are deformed in some way, due to Todd’s work in the oil industry.
14. When she was president of the PTA at her kid’s school, Sarah embezzled over $100.
15. Sarah beat up Joe McGinnis when he tried to ask her questions.
16. Sarah Palin planned 9/11 in concert with Bin Laden, Cheney, and a shadowy cartel of oil barons.
17. In order to ensure her ascent to power, Sarah has made pacts with several demonic entities, including Azazel, Beelzebub, and Cthulu.
18. If elected president, Sarah plans to usher in the “thousand days of fire” as foretold in the Al-Aqqasa Prophecies.
19. When you see Sarah Palin on TV, she sees you too.
20. Sarah no longer eats human food. Instead she ingests several human souls a day.
21. Sarah’s retinue includes several Succubi and Incubi (her harem), a greater demon (security) and a short man named Bob (media consultant).
22. Sarah Palin’s vagina has teeth. She sharpens them.
23. Sarah Palin paints her toenails in a color called “human entrails”.
24. Sarah is a 21st level acolyte in the priesthood of Ithaqua, the Elder God of Freezing Your Ass Off. Worship of Ithaqua is widespread among Alaskans, Canadians, and Russians. Notably, the Scandinavians do not worship Ithaqua, as they are too consumed by bloodlust to feel the cold.
25. Sarah Palin had sex with Chuck Norris.
26. Sara Palin has “immune to cold” as an innate ability.
27. Sarah Palin can cast “annoy liberals” three times per day at will.
28. Sarah Palin gets +4 to hit and damage with firearms, and has preferred enemy (liberal media).
29. Sarah Palin can cast “Summon Elder Hero: John McCain” once per day.

I have just learned that these facts are NOT from the new book about Sarah Palin. They are instead from another new book by Joe McGinniss, entitled “Bullshit as a Sales Strategy: How to tell lies that everyone knows are lies, but they believe them anyway because they conform to their preconceived ideas.” Wow. It’s almost as if McGinniss knows that he can just say any old thing in his book, and a certain target audience will believe it, regardless of sourcing, fact-checking, etc……as long as it slams Sarah Palin, these idiots will buy it, read it, and mindlessly repeat every half-baked smear job as if it were god’s own truth. I look forward to seeing this book quoted in many, many internet comment threads and shitty blog posts, along with the mandatory assertion that “you’re stupid if you don’t believe this”. Honestly, McGinniss should have just made up random shit and marketed it as a comedy. Hell, maybe I’ll do it. You’ve heard of Chuck Norris Facts? Get ready for Sarah Palin Facts, baby!

Friday, September 9, 2011

The Dating Game

In an attempt to meet more women, I decided to visit an online dating website. Since I fail at life, I decided to get some people to come with me. The format was odd: the site was set up like the old gameshow "the dating game". The bachelorette would ask her suitors a question, which they had to answer in a cool or interesting way. Or something. I didn't really understand it, since I suck with people. Also, this is in no way a complete rip off of an old article.
Bachelor #1: An evil cat, brimming with homicidal rage, who can somehow talk.
Bachelor #2: A major crime boss, who pretends to be a mild-mannered housewife in New England. Currently extra pissed off due to hurricane Irene.
Bachelor #3: A fat, balding, smelly loser with a raging case of Asperger’s and a freakishly large penis.

Q: Tell me how you kiss.
Cat: I don't have lips.
Shannon: Kiss? the electric company out here can KISS MY ASS! A WEEK AND STILL NO POWER?!? WHAT THE FUCK!
Me: um.......using lots of teeth?

Q: If you were a car, what kind would you be?
Cat: Whichever kind kills things.
Shannon: An amphibious car, because THIS PLACE IS STILL FUCKING FLOODED GODDAMMIT!
Me: A garbage truck. I'm full of things people don't need and would rather not have to deal with.... and I spill them everywhere I go.

Q: I spell relief M A S S A G E. How do you spell relief?
Cat: T H E   N E I G H B O R ' S   D O G    D I E D
Shannon: F U C K I N G     E L E C T R I C I T Y
Me: R E L I E F....are you stupid or something?

Q: How did you get over your last broken heart?
Cat: My heart cannot be broken, because there is nothing inside it but the mad inhuman lust to kill.
Shannon: I told the FBI he was a Russian spy. Haven't heard from him since.
Me: ........Oh, crap. I meant to say C O M F Y   C H A I R. Can I change my answer?

Q: Describe your best body part.
Cat: Claws and teeth, baby.
Shannon: I've got to say Dimitri's ears are the jewel of my collection.
Me: My colon. It's the strongest muscle in my body.

Q: What's the first thing you think about in the morning?
Cat: Annoying my human.
Shannon: Lately? Assassinating the CEO of the local power company.
Me: The cat's tail, because it's usually shoved up my nose at dawn.
Cat: lol.

Q: If you had a sound effect, what would it be?
Cat: The wailing of countless damned souls being consumed by the Elder Gods.
Shannon: ....that's pretty good, I'll go with that.
Me: A twelve-second long, 80 decibel fart.

Q: What's your favorite animal?
Cat: Cats, of course.
Shannon: .........(looks at Cat thoughtfully) Cats.
Me: Dogs. AAARGH OW OW OW DAMN! OK! OK! Stop clawing me! It's cats! Cats!

Friday, September 2, 2011

Special Guest Blogger: Muammar Khaddafi

I give thanks to Lucas, the wonderful, wonderful person who has allowed me to use his blog to debunk the misinformation and lies spread by the evil crusader pigs about me. I, Muammar Qaddafi, Supreme Dictator and Ruler for Life of Libya, Keeper of the Holy Bowel Movement, Lord of the Harem of Frighteningly Tall Women, General of the Completely Non-Shitty Armies of Allah, declare that Libya will be victorious against the traitorous rebel dogs. My forces won a mighty victory against them only yesterday, in which three rebels were badly injured by accidentally shooting each other. Ha! This shows the rebel forces’ lack of discipline! My men NEVER shoot each other, primarily because they are out of ammunition. But, still, my men’s discipline is superior! Yesterday, the rebels declared that they had captured the capitol of Libya. Fools! The capitol of Libya is where I say it is! The capital of Libya is hereby Om-Ei-Queefed, a small oasis in the Sahara desert. They will never find it, let alone take it! Soon my elite corps of camel-mounted fanatics will encircle and destroy the enemy! Speaking of the enemy, the Americans, British, and French continue to huddle offshore, refusing to enter Libya except for airstrikes! Cowards! What kind of “man” waits outside his enemies’ range while obliterating his foe with precision airpower? A coward, I say! They are afraid to attack because they know that I, Gaddafi, will soon take the field personally! I will don my battle uniform (made of embroidered silk, very classy) and ride to victory! I am now ready to field questions from the audience.
Q: Is it true that you are sexually obsessed with Condileezza Rice, former secretary of state of the US?
A: Yes! Any virile man would be obsessed as well! By Allah, look at her booty! There is no firmer, tighter ass among any nation’s senior leadership! Except perhaps the Ukraine or Sweden. Next question!
Q: Have you heard reports that one of your daughters has defected to the rebels?
A: Vile lies! None of my daughters would betray me, except perhaps Ahhayia, but I executed her last year. Lies!
Q: Sir, you forces are in retreat, your military is disintegrating, and you are losing control of your nation. Shouldn’t you admit defeat?
A: We are only retreating to lull the enemy into a false sense of security. We will fall back, wait, and then… POUNCE! Just like the desert cat! And like the desert cat, we will feast on our enemies entrails before urinating on their remains and raping their donkeys!
Q: Rebel forces say they have you surrounded –
A: (interrupting) There are no rebels in Libya! Next question.
Q: Are you, by any chance, in Om-Ei-Queefed right now?
A: Yes…….why?
Q: (speaks into watch, pauses)….No reason. (sits down)
[transmission terminated]

Friday, August 26, 2011

Tips for Hurricane Preparedness

Since hurricane Irene is going to hit the Northeast, I thought I'd share some of my expertise as a longtime Florida native and hurricane survivor. No need to thank me.

1. Familiarize yourself with the Saffir-Simpson wind scale, summarized here:
    Category 1: wind, rain, lightning, hail, tornadoes, power outages
    Category 2: tsunamis, cats and dogs living together, mass hysteria
    Category 3: Al-qaeda wishes they could do this much damage
    Category 4: Wrath of God
    Category 5: Apocalypse
2. In the aftermath of a major hurricane, there is frequently a breakdown in law and order. New Yorkers will likely not notice any changes. Other new englanders should arm themselves. guys are into gun control, aren't you? In that case, just give all your worldly possessions and/or anal virginity to the first person who asks.

3. If you are stranded in a disaster area, don't panic. FEMA will come to the rescue just like they did in New Orleans after Katrina.

4. If you are evacuating before the storm arrives, make sure to bid farewell to your home, as you will never see it again.

5. If you live in a low-lying coastal area and are refusing to evacuate, you are about to win a Darwin award. Please leave your address with the national guard so that they can recover your remains.

6. It is advisable to have emergency supplies ready if you are not evacuating. Suggested supplies include several pounds of beef jerky; bottled water; first aid kit consisting of a bottle of aspirin, a piece of gauze, and a rusty razor blade; portable gas powered generator (fuel not included); assortment of knives, axes, or spears to facilitate defense from marauding bands of cannibals; complete set of encyclopedias in order to restart civilization. 

7. Before the hurricane strikes, secure your home from wind damage by parking the aircraft carrier USS George Bush (CVN 77) in front of your home. The carrier's bulk will shield your property from flying debris, and it's nuclear reactors will be useful in case the power goes out.

8. Stay tuned to local news broadcasts to determine how frightened you should be.

9. Many celebrities will mention how upset they are about your plight. Do not badger them by asking for more concrete assistance such as food, water, or shelter. They don't actually ca-- er, I mean they have prior commitments which prevent them from leaving their homes at this time.

10. During a major storm, the Internet will likely not be accessible. Make sure you read any important, life-saving tweets before the storm hits.

11. During the storm, pray. Promising to become a member of the clergy if you live is especially effective.

12. VERY IMPORTANT: do not attempt to contact President Obama for assistance. You may disturb his golf game.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Attack of the Shannons

I walked up Shannon’s driveway, expecting the worst. Her call was terse (as she usually is), saying only that she had a problem, and to bring the cat. That was a bad sign.
I looked down at my faithful companion, calmly pacing along beside me. “Any idea what this is about?” I asked.
“None at all,” He replied, in his usual bass rumble. He may have been an ordinary-looking grey housecat, but he sounded like an angry 6’ 7” prison inmate. Only more violent.
I nodded to the guards flanking Shannon’s front door, who ignored me. However, they saluted my cat, and said, “Welcome back, sir.”
“Your courtesy is appreciated. Stand at ease.” He replied, looking smug.
As the guards ushered us in, I asked, “Why aren’t you guys that nice to me?”
One of them smirked. The other said, “You haven’t killed nearly as many people as he has.” The cat purred briefly.
As we walked into Shannon’s living room, the cat and I got the first of several surprises. First of all, a young black Labrador came bounding over, barking.  He may be a nearly unstoppable furry ball of claws and hate, but my cat was still a cat, and he reacted just as you’d expect: by puffing up and hissing furiously. By the way, the hiss translated as “PREPARE TO DIE, vile hellspawn!”
Shannon came running over. “No, no, Cash! Bad dog! Kitty, don’t kill him!”
The dog backed off, confused. “New friend doesn’t want to play?”
I asked Shannon, “How can he talk?”
“Shut up! If you don’t say anything maybe your readers won’t notice. Cash, this is Kitty. Do what he says and don’t play with him, ok?”
“Yes, mommy.” His voice sounded like a 10 year old kid. He was a really cute dog, and looked cheerful and happy. The cat looked at him with disgust.
“Kitty, take the dog upstairs and play nice with him. Lucas and I have something to talk about.” Shannon was in full I-am-the-boss-so-don’t-fuck-with-me mode.
The cat grumbled, but did as she said. The dog followed, looking cheerful. Shannon said, grumpily, “Follow me.”
We walked into the next room, where I got another surprise. Standing, Sitting, Leaning casually against the wall, what have you; the room was full of pretty blonde women. I grinned happily. Now this was more like it!
Shannon shattered my happy illusions by saying, “Lucas, meet…..Shannon.” a wide sweep of her arm indicated the entire room.
I stopped smiling. “Uh?” I asked.
“They’re all named Shannon. And they’re all pissed at you for putting them in you blog without permission. Well, not that one over there—“ she pointed to an extra-pretty Shannon, sitting on the couch, surrounded by what appeared to be an entourage. “—that one likes publicity. She just wanted to meet you.”
I stood there, utterly at a loss. “Well what do they want me to do about it?”
Shannon said, “Stop using them in your blog.”
I’ve never pretended to be good with people. For me, a good week involves never leaving the house and not speaking to another living creature besides my cat. But I had to deal with this as best I could. I thought for a moment about what to say. This was clearly a complicated issue. Taking all possible points of view into account, I faced the roomful of Shannons and said, “No. Fuck off.”
I can only recall bits and pieces of the riot which followed. Everything was a blur of blonde hair, high heels, and VERY shapely legs. Fortunately, the Shannon who invited me and who actually knew me thought it was hilarious. Even more fortunately, she was a mob boss with a large personal security contingent. After she finished laughing she rescued me from the herd.
Shannon the mob boss (hereafter referred to as Shannon Alpha) and the other Shannon (hereafter referred to as Shannon India) were much more reasonable. Shannon India, as the name suggests, was a HUGE celebrity in India. Singing, Dancing, speaking Hindi, acting in rape scenes, she did it all. All she wanted was a disclaimer from me to make it clear to her fans she wasn’t involved in this blog. I therefore and forthwith present the disclaimer below.

I herefore and forewith ipso facto solemly and with gusto swear that this blog is the sole creation of myself. Characters in this blog are totally not fictional and completely real. Events depicted in this blog are completely 100% factual and are in no way the product of a diseased mind hopped up on caffeine and horse steroids. Any resemblance to any persons, places, animals, events, deities, alternate dimensions, psychic visions, drug-induced hallucinations, or sexual fantasies is totally not on purpose and probably just a figment of your imagination. FURTHERMORE, this blog in no way represents the true plans and agenda of Microsoft Corporation, and any discussion of “world domination” or “summoning  the Elder Gods to earth to reign for a million years” is a fabrication and has absolutely no relevance to Microsoft’s actual plans, which involve the Elder Gods reigning for a BILLION years, not a million. AND EVEN FURTHERMORE AND STUFF, the character of “Shannon India” is not intended to represent the real-life film star Shannon Pumpersnatcher, currently residing at 101 E. Horndog Rd. , Los Angeles, CA 78654. Any suggestion that Shannon India is in fact Shannon Pumpersnatcher, whose phone number is (919)213-9066, is completely ridiculous. This blog has no connection to Shannon Pumpersnatcher, whose email is with password “sekrit”.

Sunday, August 14, 2011


For some reason, a lot of people have been emailing me asking for help lately. Maybe they think my cat’s a superhero or something, I dunno. At any rate, I finally gave in, and got together a panel of experts to give you the best advice possible.
Expert 1: An evil cat, brimming with homicidal rage, who can somehow talk.
Expert 2: A major crime boss, who pretends to be a mild-mannered housewife in New England.
Expert 3: A fat, balding, smelly loser with a raging case of Asperger’s and a freakishly large penis.

Q: I’m having trouble getting a job in this economy, and money is getting tight. My friends say I should go back to school, but I don’t want to take on any more debt. If I don’t find something soon I may have to move home with parents! What should I do? –Joe, 22, Atlanta
Cat: Jobs are for the weak. Real men live in the woods and eat anything too slow to escape.
Shannon: Deal Drugs. Somewhere other than my turf.
Me: Move home with your parents, succumb to major depression, lose all your money, get fat, and spend all your time reading 4chan and masturbating.

Q: I’m an aspiring republican presidential candidate. I need to find a way to stand out from the herd other than my policies or personality because I don’t have either. –Mitt, 56, Boston
Cat: One by one, challenge your opponents to single combat. Slay them all and eat their corpses while journalists watch. Just don’t try this with Sarah Palin.
Shannon: Propose the legalization of prostitution, gambling, drugs, guns, and shady loans.
Me: Have you considered a nice, sleazy sex scandal?

Q: A guy beat me up at school yesterday. My friends say I should get him back, but how? –David, 16, LA
Cat: Ambush him in a school hallway. After knocking him down, establish dominance by urinating on him. I advise marking the school and entire student body as your territory as well, to avoid future challenges.
Shannon: Kill his family.
Me: Tell him you’re gay and hot for him. He’ll never touch you again. Unless he’s gay too, in which case you are (literally) fucked.

Q: Help! My boyfriend cheated on me and I don’t know what to do! Should I dump him or forgive him? Hillary, 14, Ohio
Cat: Where is the problem here? This is normal behavior.
Shannon: Cut his balls off with a knife. Pickle them and put them in a jar on your desk.
Me: Obviously you’re not satisfying him in bed. Try dressing sluttier and new sexual techniques, such as anal, rimming, and pegging.

Q: A friend of mine told me that twilight sucks, but it totally doesn’t! Twilight is the best book ever! Tell him he’s wrong.  –Jenny, 16, FL
Cat: (vomits noisily)
Shannon: What’s your address, Jenny? I have a package for you.
Me: What’s your address, Jenny? You sound cute.

Q: I’m president of the United States. I’m dealing with a lot of problems right now, but none of them are my fault! I just keep getting yelled at, no matter what I do. How do I get the haters to shut up? –Barack, 58, DC
Cat: If you were a true leader, you would beat them into a bloody pulp and feast on their flesh. You disgust me.
Shannon: Cry me a river, bitch.
Me: Have you considered not sucking?

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Talking Cat 5: Kitty for Hire

I was reorganizing my pornography collection when I got the call.
I didn’t recognize the number on caller ID. Puzzled, I answered it. “Hello?”
The deep, James Earl Jones-like voice on the phone was unmistakable. “HUMAN!” Bellowed my cat. “I require transportation!”
For a moment, I simply stared at my computer screen in shock. I wasn’t seeing the image displayed there – in this case, a skillful fake of Will Smith nailing the president  while John McCain watched in the background. (I don’t usually go in for gay porn, but this was a collector’s item).  Instead, I was realizing that a) I hadn’t seen my cat for a week, b) that was why I felt so relaxed, c) he could use phones now, and d) where the hell was he?
“Cat,” I began cautiously, “where are you? And do I want to know what you’re doing there?”
He replied cheerfully, “I’m up at your friend Shannon’s! Remember her?”
“Ummm…..yes…..but I thought she was mad at us. You know, the dead bear and all.”
“Oh, that.” He meowed dismissively. “That was merely a smokescreen to fool the police. They have all her phones tapped. She emailed me last week at my website and said she had some work for me, so I caught the next bus up here. That reminds me, your buses are hives of filth and stupidity. I had to tear someone’s ears off for insisting that dogs are better than cats. You’ve never heard such whining.”
I thought, What the fuck?
I said, “What the fuck?”
He hissed over the phone. “Do not use filthy language with me, Human! Speak properly or not at all.”
I took a deep breath. “Ok. You have a website? What did Shannon want? Why did she need? And how can she talk to you?”
“Yes, it’s .  I care not how Shannon can speak with me, but it’s nice having someone more manly than you to talk to. She’s much more my type.”
“More manly! She’s a petite blonde! With two kids! How is that manly?”
He snickered. “It’s not the plumbing, it’s the attitude.”
“Little shit,” I snarled at him. “When you get back I’m having you neutered again.”
As I was (angrily) talking, I typed in the URL of kitty’s homepage. I was greeted by a video. Music began playing. “You spin me round round baby right round, like a record baby, round round round…”
I recoiled in horror. “Agh! My eyes!”
The cat laughed evilly. “Ha! FOOL! Never trust information a strange cat gives you over the phone!”
I hastily closed the window. “Cat, stop fucking with me and answer my questions. Why did Shannon want you to do something for her?”
He purred happily. That was a bad sign.
Over the next half hour, I managed to drag the details out of him. The least shocking detail was that apparently, good-natured, quiet Shannon who I knew from high school had embarked on a career in organized crime. She was currently involved in a small scale mob war against a rival organization.

Then things got weird.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me that the rival organization Shannon is at war with consists of escaped Russian circus animals?” I demanded incredulously.
And that was why Shannon wanted my kitty as a hit man. He was unmatched at murdering wild animals of any shape or size. It also explained why there was a large brown bear impersonating her last week.
I gave in. “All right, whatever. I don’t care. I don’t WANT to care. You and Shannon just do whatever and don’t tell me about it. I’ll be there to pick you up tomorrow.”
“Wait, human! I haven’t told you the best part!”
Very, very cautiously, I said, “………..what’s the best part?”
“My first kill was a mountain lion! I couldn’t eat it, Shannon insisted we had to make it look like an accident. So we ran over it with her car a few times. It made the papers and everything!”
I hung up.
The next day, I picked up my blood-drenched kitty from Shannon’s. She didn’t bother with keeping up appearances this time. The armed guards all over the place were a giveaway. Shannon herself looked fairly ordinary except for the .45 on her hip and the freaking sword slung over her back, the hilt sticking over her left shoulder so she could grab it. She was expressionlessly sipping coffee from a mug that said “I can only help one person a day. Today isn’t your day. Tomorrow isn’t looking so hot either”. She was standing in front of some guy kneeling on her driveway with his hands cuffed behind him, begging for his life. I decided this wasn't the best time to say hello.
As we drove away, I heard a single gunshot. The cat purred briefly. “I told you she was more manly than you."