Friday, November 18, 2005
Some Fire fighters Are Heroes, But Most Are Cowards
Boston's rich tradition, history and culture are reflected in its great monuments and memorials. The statue of Paul Revere in the North End reminds us all of the great sacrifices Bostonians made in the struggle for freedom, the statue of Sam Adams stands at the front of Fanueil Hall marking the very birthplace of America, and the Civil War memorial proudly displays a time when we thought that it would be beneficial to let our blacks roam the streets freely. Who knew? So where exactly in the rich cultural fabric of the City of Boston does a memorial to dead fire fighters fit in? It doesn’t. And we should all be ashamed that our tax money has been wasted on this project.
Fire Fighters: Typically Lazy, Occasionally Heroic
Don’t get me wrong; I think that some fire fighters are heroes. These are blue-collar, uneducated losers who have the same lack of dignity or reason to live as a plumber, janitor or electrician, yet... to continue reading my thoughts on this subject, visit my campaign headquarters at www.BostonMike.com - do it immediately or else.
I'd like to thank this week's www.BostonMike.com sponsor, The Pakistani Earthquake Relief Fund. I charged them 2% less than my typical weekly sponsors and spent the money saved by tipping my cab driver. I think he was Pakistani, but I'm not sure. He smelled third world. If you'd like to be a sponsor of www.BostonMike.com please cause a natural disaster that destroys a large part of the globe and I'll have my people get in touch with you. Thanks again to this week's sponsor. DUCK! RUN FOR COVER! Pakistan - feel the excitement!<>
Friday, November 11, 2005
Boston Mike Concedes the 2006 Race To Filthy Italian Retard, Announces Campaign for 2010
Mike is being medicated at the moment and could not post his thoughts on his journal. As his campaign manager, I am posting the transcript of the concession speech he gave earlier this evening. Barbara is expected to make a full recovery, and she appreciates your thoughts and prayers. For the record, she has not filed a restraining order because she is a coward.
Transcript of Boston Mike’s concession speech:
11/8/05 07:58pm Westin Hotel Ballroom, Boston, MA
* * * begin tape * * *
Fellow friends, family, minorities strategically-placed near the cameras, gathered Jews and sodomites of the media, and most importantly, my fellow citizens of Boston... EVERYONE SHUT UP AND STOP CLAPPING, I’M TRYING TO GIVE A [expletive] SPEECH HERE. God dammit.
Well, it looks like those Jews that run the election bureau have struck again.
I recently placed a phone call to Mayor Menino to congratulate him, get a few racial slurs out my system, and to have him remind his wife that...
To read the rest of the speech, please visit www.BostonMike.com
Friday, November 04, 2005
Sometimes, I Even Hate White People
America is a diverse nation, and this wonderful attribute is the source of both our greatest national pride, and also most crime. America is a nation that moves fast. We like our meals to go, our cars with V8s, and our traffic reports on the 3’s. Combine our love for all things fast and efficient with our nation’s diversity and you can see why stereotypes are such a necessity.
However, there is a problem with stereotypes. Some of the worst, most detestable people on the planet are white. For instance, while yes, there is much to admire about Adolf Hitler’s work ethic and organizational skills, the fact remains that he also made some poor decisions. The same goes for other white people like Charles Manson, Jeff McVeigh, Josef Stalin and Bill Clinton. Just because somebody appears to be white on the outside does not mean that they act that with purity and decency on the inside.
Giving all white people a free pass is just as racist as saying all blacks are... to read the rest of my thoughts, visit www.BostonMike.com
I'd like to thank this week's www.BostonMike.com sponsor - the United States Olympic Diving Team. Diving! It's not just for muff anymore. Catch the fever, not the crabs. If you'd like to be a weekly sponsor of www.BostonMike.com do something to impress Jody Foster, I'm sure it'll impress me as well. The US Olympic Diving Team - more than just faggots jumping into a pool.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Rosa “Rib-Eye” Parks, Immobile Black whom Immobilized Mobile, Dead at 92
America Loses A Pioneer in Race Relations
The nation is mourning the loss of a great African-American hero, and I join my fellow countrymen in thoughtful reflection and prayer at the loss of this great role model for all of America. Yes my fellow citizens, Nipsy Russell was a true American hero, making whitey laugh with his wacky antics and contorted facial expressions. The size of his smile, framed by the bulbous hilarity of his field-hand lips, stretched like a bridge from black America to white America – a gulf spanned by the cheerful comedy that pumped from his cold black heart. You shall be missed, Nipsy, rest well my friend. Rest well.
In other news, that fat-ankled punk, Rosa “Rib-Eye” Parks also kicked the bucket. Probably of a gangland shooting or heroin overdose, who knows and who cares? My fellow citizens, there’s a reason why Nipsy Russell is throwing dominos in heaven right now and ole’ Rib-Eye Parks is dancing the naked Charleston with Hitler in Satan’s juke joint of hell. Do you think that when St. Peter sent her to hell, he allowed her to sit in the front seat of the bus that took her there? Because that would be rich.
Controversial? Yes. Shall I elaborate? I shall. Please check my campaign headquarters at www.BostonMike.com to read the rest of the journal entry.
I'd like to thank this week's www.BostonMike.com sponsor: Pinewood Estates Assisted Living Facility. Make your next home your last home. To learn more about sponsoring www.BostonMike.com send me a swab of your DNA and an essay of at least 1,000 words or less describing why you should be allowed to sponsor this site. Thanks again to this week's sponsor. Pinehills, come die with us.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Announcing My New Campaign HQ - A Jewy Pothole on the Information Superhighway
This is why I hired some Jew graduate student to create an online campaign headquarters for my candidacy. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you www.BostonMike.com - enter often, pass it around to all your friends like the dirty little whore it is, and be sure to wash the shame and/or semen off your hands when you're done.
On my online headquarters (www.BostonMike.com) you can sign my guest book, read my opinions on everything from abortion, evolution, to the difference between Rosa Parks and OJ Simpson (OJ never admitted he was a criminal). You can learn about my life, my hopes and dreams, my fears, my quirks (there's nothing "vestigial" about that tail), and the things that keep me up late night, furiously masturbating while eating fistfuls of pills and writing angry letters to newspapers that don't necessarily exist.
Visit often, tell a friend, tell your family, share the site with your pastor or at reading clubs. The site makes a great learning tool for children to learn the ins and outs of politics - however, it is not recommended for white children under 7.
Thank you to everyone who has supported me, my family is overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support we have received throughout the campaign. Just remember, if you dare to cross me in any way on my righteous path to power, you shall be cast down with the sodomites and die a meager peasant's death in the fiery pits of what you can only hope is hell. Thank you so much for your vote, Boston! Only together can we make a difference by enabling me to make the difference alone.
I would like to take the time to thank my web master, Some Jew From Seattle, for creating www.BostonMike.com a site that I hope you immediately bookmark. Which reminds me, last night I had to "bookmark" my daughter with my Oxford dictionary when I caught her listening to rap music. I wondered if this is what great Bostonian patriot Ben Franklin meant when he said "beware the power of the written word" as my daughter suffered the wrath of five pounds of written words raining down on her head and neck area. Why does beating my daughter with a dictionary get me so hard?
Anyway, sorry for the digression, someday I will share my views on parenting with everyone, but for now we are celebrating the launch of the world's greatest political web site ever. Thank you again for your vote, Boston. It's time we had a better tomorrow, today.
I would like to thank this week's www.BostonMike.com sponsor, Planned Parenthood. If you would like to be a weekly sponsor of the site, please meet me behind the dumpster on Essex Street in Chinatown at 3am on Tuesday and show me what you've got. Planned Parenthood - it's not just baby murder, it's baby murder and disposal.
Friday, October 14, 2005
The Pearly Gates or the Silver-backed Apes: Where Did Mankind Come From?
Yet, when you watch political shows on Foxnews or CNN, it seems like the tone and the atmosphere is neither civil nor sophisticated, and what should be thoughtful commentary on society inevitably turns into the TV version of apes stomping around, hurling verbal waste at each other, and acting like savage wild animals or worse - rappers.
Let’s take today’s hot-button issue: evolution vs. intelligent design. Many believe that mankind descended from apes and many others believe that we were put on earth in the image of God. Who’s right and who’s wrong?
Did Mankind Descend From Apes?
Darwin’s theory on evolution is riddled with scientific inconsistencies that have never been reconciled. These were recently brought into the national spotlight by the bombshell book, Darwin’s Black Box. I hastily picked up my copy hoping to read about Darwin’s love of African vagina, but as I sat there nude, clutching my manhood while lasciviously turning pages, it turned out the book is about a very different “black box” – one in his famed evolution theory. Without boring you with the scientific specifics, let’s just say that the book puts more holes in Darwin’s theory than the BTK killer put in his nubile victims.
So Did Mankind Descend From God?
Likewise, the intelligent design theory is riddled with flaws of its own – for instance, if God created us in his own image, how does that account for people like Pauley Shore, Star Jones, and that retarded guy with the thing on his face who hangs out down by the clinic? How the fuck does he eat with that thing? Yuck. Let’s hope these people weren’t created in “god’s image” or we’re all praying to one seriously messed-up freak.
Singing in the Garden of Eden or Swinging in the Jungles of Africa?
As you can see, both theories on the origin of mankind have their flaws. Maybe it’s the middle child in me, or maybe it’s just all that Indian food I ate for lunch angrily worming it’s way through my body and fogging my brain with its spicy emissions, but I happen to believe America is ready to compromise on this angry topic.
I have consulted clergy, scrutinized biology texts and done some field research at local basketball courts and even thrown a few rocks down at the Franklin Park Zoo, and believe that I have come up with a theory that appeases both sides of this heated debate: I believe that decent, moral, upstanding, glorious white people were placed here on this earth in the image of God himself, and that blacks descended from apes. There, we’re both right. It’s time to shake hands, America. There's enough pie for everyone.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Cindy Sheehan's Son - American Hero, But Also A Real Son-Of-A-Bitch
First the nation was transfixed by the swollen eyes of Aruba-hating Beth Holloway Twitty, a scrumptious southern belle of a woman whose naughty little loins sprung an even naughtier little daughter. As the nation was falling in love with this sobbing pot of sex, Cindy Sheehan burst onto the stage, stomped her ample frame over to the microphone, tore open her shirt and screamed “I got something to say! I am sad too!” And for the first time in recent memory, two grieving mothers were battling it out on the national stage for network news airtime, fighting desperately for our attention. Who will win this battle for network ratings? I say throw them both in a cage, douse them with baby oil, and sell the thing on pay-per-view.
The Hero Son
Cindy Sheehan’s son, Casey Sheehan, was an American hero who was killed in Iraq serving this great country and changing the course of world history as he protected the fledgling embers of freedom, liberty and democracy in a corner of the world that eschews basic human rights with the same zeal that they eschew basic human hygiene. While patrolling the streets, attempting to give Iraqis dignities such as freedom of speech and women’s rights – rights that even the detestable Puerto Ricans have - Casey was murdered by a savage animal terrorist.
The Dirty Daughter
Meanwhile, over in Aruba, Beth Halloway Twitty’s daughter was enjoying some liberty and freedom herself, mostly by having island people lick jell-o shots off her belly. Giggling and drunk, Natalie laid herself down on an Aruban bar and allowed hormone-charged boys to pepper her nubile belly with their hot breath and greedy tongues. These boys devoured shot after shot on this quivering 18-year old beauty with the vigor and alarm of a pack of retards mauling a birthday cake. Down Bobby! Down! Get your hands out of the frosting, you mongoloid freak! And you’re saying bad things happened to her afterwards? Shocking.
Cindy Sheehan Dishonors The Honor of Her Son
Back in the good old US of A, Cindy Sheehan decided that the best way she could memorialize the heroism of her son was to smear her feces all over the curtains, urinate on the American flag, and demand a private meeting with the President to discuss the merits of surrendering to the terrorists in the name of her murdered son. Wow. She must have really hated her son to be that happy that he was dead. While most of America burst out laughing at the grief-stricken rantings of this sad, traitorous brute, inevitably, the lunatic fringe of our nation actually started to rally around her.
They had “Cindy Sheehan, Grieving Mother” business cards made up for her, a book deal, an appearance on Oprah, and a line of casual clothing at K-Mart all set up before the rest of us could even stop laughing at her ridiculous actions. In a few weeks, Cindy went on to become the lead spokeswoman on behalf of all the terrorists in Iraq. I’m sure that the hunks of her son’s shrapnel-ridden body that were collected and buried are now rolling in their grave.
Beth Halloway Twitty Honors the Dishonor of Her Daughter
Around the same time as Cindy was making a mockery of her dead son, Beth Halloway Twitty was doing the rounds on prime time TV and showing off both her ample grief and ample charm. Man, I’d twitty all over this one. And what moxie! She is willing to be the public face of her whoring, partying, minx of a daughter, because she knows that by using her supple breasts and winning smile, the media will continue to give her the spotlight she craves, and this will pressure the Aruban officials to solve the case. For this, I applaud her. I’m kind of embarrassed for her, but I applaud her nonetheless.
In Summary - The Hot Woman: Right, The Ugly One: Wrong
Am I the only one who finds it ironic that Cindy Sheehan has a son to be proud of, and all she does is go around dishonoring him? And Twitty has a daughter whoring it up like Tara Reid on a cock-starved coke-binge, and all she does is remind everybody on a daily basis that she was the vagina that hatched this girl into the world? What the hell is going on here? Did I die and wake up in Candyland?
We can only imagine the way a mother feels when she loses a child, so I am certainly not trying to make light of a grieving mother’s plight. Hey, that rhymes! Haha, that’s great… but seriously, I would just like to point out that when your son dies a hero, you should try to honor him as such. And if your daughter dies shamefully, you should pretend that she was hit by a car, or maybe that you never had a daughter in the first place.
The Jews and sodomites that run the mainstream media will soon grow tired of grieving mothers and will find a new group of sweethearts for America to rally around. I’m hoping it’ll be cripples. But until then we can expect these two fiery ladies to duke it out on the newscasts, jockey for position in the nation’s hearts, and continue to act in such an embarrassing manner that their children are probably glad they’re dead.
Monday, September 19, 2005
What The Supreme Court Needs Now Is Another White Male Justice
John Roberts, Casual Male
America has been wracked with bad news lately, from the destruction brought on by Hurricane Katrina, to the bombshell news that Courtney Love is back on the heroine, to the death of TV’s “Gilligan”. So the nation heaved a collective sigh of relief when John Roberts coasted to an easy confirmation as the US Supreme Court justice.
Our fearless, beloved leader, George W. Bush, has done the nation a great service by nominating ivory-skinned John Roberts to lead the court. How white is John Roberts? This is a guy with such a bad sense of rhythm that he gets confused at baseball stadiums trying to stomp and clap along to “We Will Rock You”. He likes his jazz soft, his women dowdy, and his blacks safely walking on the other side of the street. He’ll make a fine Chief Justice.
A Second Vacancy
White Male John Roberts’ confirmation is a great victory for America, but there is a second vacancy on the bench that needs to be addressed. The Supreme Court should be a respectful forum for spirited debate where the Constitution is upheld with fierce intensity. This is why I can’t believe so many special interest groups are clamoring for George Bush to nominate a woman, a black – or worse – a Hispanic. My fellow citizens, this is the US Supreme Court, not a UPN sit-com.
Now don’t get me wrong – I am a man of all people, and I don’t care if you’re yellow, pink, black, or brown. It’s just that there is a court for these types of people too, but it’s not the Supreme Court – it’s the food court. I’ll have a Snapple. Uno Snapple, Por Favor. Uno. A Snapple... Hello? Snapple. Uno... Can I speak to a manager? Man-a-ger?
This is why I am imploring our dearly beloved Bush to nominate another white male. Have you thought about the lunacy of nominating one of the miscellaneous “others” to the nation’s highest court? I have.
How About a Hispanic?
America’s Hispanics, or “beaners” as I lovingly call them, have made great progress since they first swam the Rio Grande to the Golden Shores of America. But I don’t need them deciding the legal precedents for things such as eminent domain and civil rights. These people have a hard enough time deciding between pinto and black beans. Is there really a difference? It’s all going to be smothered in salsa and cheese anyway.
How About A Black?
In 1990, George H.W. Bush nominated Justice Thomas to the Supreme Court. While Americans were relieved and amused to see a black on a bench who wasn’t asking for spare change, it turned out Justice Thomas was nothing more than a blunt-headed, sex-crazed womanizer. My friends, you can take the black out of hip-hop, but you can’t take the hip-hop out of the black. Why do you really think Sandra Day O’Connor retired? Perhaps it’s because sex-crazed Clarence pounded at her quivering slabs of crotch-veal with his “African Gavel of Justice” for hours on end in the back seat of his Cadillac Coupe DeVille - rending her once-taut vagina into a cavernous, meat-draped fissure. Wouldn’t you retire too? The 17th Street Canal in New Orleans ruptured under less pressure.
How About a Woman?
I know what you’re thinking, “A Woman?! On the Supreme Court?! They can’t even parallel-park a car!” True, but you would be surprised to learn that there is a radical feminist element in our society that believes a woman would make a suitable justice. Are we really prepared to throw another woman into Clarence Thomas’s den of iniquity? I think it’s best to leave him be. He already has Justice Ginsberg’s rusty old spigots to bat around when his urges boil over, so there is no need to throw more fuel on this fire.
How About A Gay?
Nice try, McGreevey. We all know how the gays think they are people, but the Supreme Court Justices are supposed to be thoughtful, pious arbiters of the national interest, not semen-drenched cock ballerinas. This is reflected in the simple, black robes they wear while on the bench. Imagine how distracting it would be for lawyers arguing before the court if one of the Justices showed up in a be-dazzled, sequin-ensconced robe, looking like Elton John at a Hollywood Fund-raising Fagathon For Autistic Children With AIDS who are Orphans. It’s not crushed felt, it’s Ultra-Suede!!! I'm sure it is. Just keep it in your pants, Margaret.
How About A Cripple?
I only included this subject to highlight how ridiculous it is to even consider any of the miscellaneous “others” to the Supreme Court. How about a cancer patient? How about a retard? How about a kitten? How about an Asian?! While you and I are laughing at the whimsical thought of a possible crippled Justice Helmet-Head getting his robe’s tassels caught in the spokes of his wheelchair, causing the whole thing to capsize as he lets out a piercing, dolphin-like wail that echoes throughout the marble halls of the court; there are other people out there who are not laughing. These people want to see the Supreme Court look more like Jabba the Hut’s Cantina in Star Wars than the esteemed chambers of law and order that our very white forefathers imagined it would be.
How About Some Sanity?
My fellow citizens, in Justices Ginsberg and Thomas, we already have a woman and a minority on the Supreme Court. Do we really need another woman? Do we really need another minority? Before you answer, let me ask you this: since when do two wrongs make a right?
Friday, September 09, 2005
They Showed Us Their Tits - Now It's Time For Us to Show New Orleans Our Hearts
As I was walking the dry, above-sea-level streets of Boston today, I came across several people who approached me and said, "Boston Mike, what are you doing to help the hurricane victims?" and many people came up to me and asked "What can we as Bostonions do to show our compassion?" and still more asked, "isn't it illegal to walk around a children's playground without pants on?" My fellow citizens, I don't claim to have all the answers, but I do know that each and every one of us can do our own little part to help end the suffering in New Orleans and the other parts of "Upper Mexico" that are hurting. Here are a few things we can do together:
Give Blood: I have contacted the local Red Cross and the woman on the phone assured me that black people have the same DNA as us white people, and that our blood can actually be used to help them. Who knew? I have already installed maple-syrup-collection catch bins under the crotches of all my female staffers.
Adopt a Pet: Other than the elderly, cripples, children, and the retarded; animals are perhaps Katrina’s most vulnerable victims. If we don’t do something about these cats and dogs that are roaming the empty streets, then the Chinese food restaurants surely will.
Adopt a Black: Much to the chagrin of NASCAR Nation, slavery was abolished many years ago. However, by legally adopting a black teenager, you can finally fulfill your dream of having your own personal black field hand. I’ll call mine Jethro. The autumn is upon us and those leaves aren’t going to rake themselves!
Send Old Sleeping Bags: The area is in dire need of sleeping bags - they ran out of body bags days ago. I never thought back when I bought my son his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sleeping bag that it would someday be used as a burial shroud for a nursing home floatee, but the Lord works in mysterious ways. And I really don't think Ole' Mable cares what she's wrapped in when the tractor dumps her and her bingo buddies into the mass grave. This is no time for vanity.
Assemble Care Packages: If you join up with a church or civic group, assemble the basic necessities that these people need to get by in a convenient box. But remember, these are toothless poor people, so instead of sending toothpaste, send liquor. And don’t send bars of soap, it’ll just confuse them and they’ll wind up eating it. I recommend putting together a care package of a small flask of rotgut whisky, cigarettes (blacks love menthol), assorted jerky products, and a little poster of an adorable kitty hanging from a branch with the message “Hang in there, fella!” If that doesn’t cheer them up, then they are heartless bastards who don't deserve cheering up.
Take Political Action: Hmm… maybe having a black mayor and woman governor didn’t pan out so well? In the future, let’s stick with white male politicians. How are you supposed to be a leader when you’re covered with barbeque sauce or too busy in the lady’s room peeling away the sweaty remnants of your monthly shame?
Donate Clothing: Remember that hitch-hiking drifter that you killed and stuffed in your basement crawl space? The next time you go downstairs to masturbate over his corpse, remove his clothes and donate them to the disaster relief fund. In addition to helping hurricane victims, it’s also a great way to dispose of evidence.
Stop With the Blame Game: We need to rebuild and unite as one nation - all this useless sniping will get us no where, and will probably scare away the relief helicoptors. If Ted Kennedy couldn't help one drowning victim, how can he expect Bush to help 750,000?
Plan Ahead: If you are an urban planner or have any future plans to create a new city someplace, you should give serious consideration to building it above sea level.
And Finally, Vote For Me: Hurricane Katrina is more than just a killer storm - it is also a major inconvenience. And Americans hate to be inconvenienced. Here in Boston, your best bet to keep your family safe is to vote for a politician who isn't scared to order "shoot to kill" edicts at the very first drop of rain. After donating your extra money to my campaign, by all means, feel free to donate whatever pocket change you have left to the hurricane victims. Maybe they can use it to buy some delicious gum.
Vote for Mike, and stay dry, Boston!
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
New Orleans: A City of Squalor, Filth, Looting, Destruction, Death and Disease. And Then Along Comes Hurricane Katrina
America Rejoices as New Orleans Finally Gets a Good Power-Washing
I think all Americans can agree that if any American city could use a bath, it’s New Orleans. I have been to New Orleans on several occasions, and still can’t figure out why the city always smells like a giant, wet, raw vagina that has been stewing all day on a vinyl bus seat in the hot, humid summer air. But it does. It smells just like that.
I still can’t figure out why the thick, syrupy coating of dried up urine has never been power-washed off the sides of the buildings, or why the unending filth is considered part of the city’s whimsical tradition and “charm”. This is an American city that is almost as disgusting and filthy as the slums of Calcutta, or even worse – Paris.
Thankfully, Hurricane Katrina has come to wash the entire city down, and let its residents begin fresh. Once everything is hosed off, repaired and painted, the city can begin its new life as a modern, clean city that all of America can be proud of. Maybe we can even buy them some trash cans and hire some people to show them how to use them.
The Dark Lining of this Silver Cloud
However, not everything about Hurricane Katrina is good news. This is also a story tinged with a certain element of tragedy, so it's not all win-win. Let me explain, one hand, yes, America gets to finally clean up a massive sewage system and embarrassment of a city, but on the other hand, gas prices are going to be impacted greatly by this event across America. This is the real tragedy. Simply because we Bostonians live in a clean city, that was ingenuously built above sea level, it does not mean that this event will not impact our lives and our wallets. If we don’t gas up our cars and trucks, the terrorists have won. And if we do gas them up, then the Hurricane has won. Aha! Perhaps this “win-win” situation is actually “lose-lose”? I hate hurricanes.
What Boston Can Learn From This Tragedy
In all situations, you live and you learn and this is no different. Holland, a neat little country of faggots, losers and hippies located in Northern Europe, is mostly built below sea level, but it is protected by large hydraulic dams that can be lowered or raised as threats emerge. If this system had been in place in New Orleans instead of earthen berms and fixed levees, the streets of New Orleans would be free and clear today, and police would be able to maintain law and order.
But we have learned an important lesson: if as a city you can’t contain nature, you might as well at least contain your minorities. This is why I am proposing the City of Boston should build large hydraulic dams to surround the crime-ridden and poor neighborhoods of our city, so that in the event of a major force of nature like this, these walls can be put up to keep the looting to their own designated neighborhoods.
Nobody wants to see packs of roving savages ransacking swank Newbury Street boutiques, but if they want to break into their own neighborhood “Crazy Chicken”, or steal jewelry from “’Da Bead Store” then by all means, I’ll hand them the ax. What is it about black-on-black violence that makes me so hard?
Prayers For the Victims
Perhaps as many as 1,000 Americans have been killed in this tragedy, a number far greater than the 200,000 Asians killed in the December tsunami (when you factor in into account the human-to-Asian conversion rate for human worth). A major difference here is that these victims are predominantly Christian. So while it was kitsch, fanciful and somewhat amusing to “pray” for the heathen stick-throwers who were affected by the tsunami, this time around prayer can be an important and cathartic action. And if you’re Jewish, by all means, send money.
I know what you’re thinking “Who cares? Weren’t most of the victims black?” Well, that is a horrible think to think and you should be ashamed of yourself for even allowing that thought to cross your mind - even just for a fleeting moment. The only thing uglier than racism is ignorance, and the only thing uglier than ignorance is Oprah Winfrey’s hairy asshole, spread open while it noisily consumes house-flies.
A New New Orleans
My fellow Bostonians, soon the waters will recede, the roads will be rebuilt and the city will be srubbed with bleach. Then New Orleans can get back to what it is known for: drunken college slobs slurping down $1.99 Hurricanes, while slobbering all over bayou-dwelling mud-hookers while barely coherently screaming “show me your tits!” as they adorn these C-section scarred, white trash sluts with plastic strings of beads in exchange for a glimpse of the leathery fried eggs that hang from their weather-worn chests.
I think it was John Melloncamp who summed it up best "Aw, ain't that America!" Well it ain't not, John, it ain't not.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
To Deal With the Social Security Crisis, We Must First Deal With the Elderly
Touching the Third Rail of Politics
Social Security is considered the “third rail” in politics because nobody wants to touch it for fear of getting burned. I think my loyal supporters realize that I am not your average politician, and not surprisingly, I happen to enjoy the way burn victims look – all featureless and aerodynamic. Who needs to rent The Island of Dr. Moreau when you can watch a pink, hairless burn victim tearfully tell teenagers gathered in an auditorium the negative aspects of drunk driving?
My point is that just as today’s politicians are too cowardly to look a burn victim in the eye, they are also unable to address the Social Security problem. They apologize for the circumstances, they say that it’s a horrible thing, they murmur their condolences, but they keep their eyes down at their feet the whole time. I am the one candidate for mayor that is not afraid to look the burn victim in the eye and tell him that he is scaring the children and needs to go home.
The Golden Years? Or just the Golden Shower Years?
If only today’s politicians were as brave, we wouldn’t be faced with this problem. Republicans and Democrats alike are wrong to think they can fix minor problems in a flawed system.
My fellow citizens, sometimes in politics, two warring ideals create so much anxiety and animosity that a little something I call “realism” is lost in the shuffle. Let’s face it; the real problem here is that advances in medicine and health are causing the elderly to live too long.
Those jews over in Hollywood have tried to glamorize the elderly with sinister shows such as The Golden Girls, but we know that the only thing “golden” about the elderly are the sheets on their urine-stained beds. There is nothing good about the elderly and as they live longer, America is plagued with more of the problems they create.
A Final Solution
I know what you’re thinking; “let’s just kill the elderly.” A loving, decent, sophisticated society does not go around killing its innocent citizens. Not without first proving guilt.
This is why I am proposing all people who reach 75 years old will have to write an essay at every birthday titled, “Why I Should Be Allowed to Live Another Year.” This will be a forum for the sharp and spry senior citizen to justify why he or she should continue to leach funds from the national government. Everybody ages differently, and this system gives officials a prudent and measurable means of determining when a person has hit their personal expiration date.
If the person cannot give a justifiable reason (such as they are president of their country club, or have accumulated significant wealth and can pay their own medical bills) then that person will be sent to a new version of the “retirement home.” These retirement homes will not be drab and dreary prisons where the sickly wait to die like they are today. No, these new “retirement” homes will be festive, bright places, like a Chuck 'E Cheese for the elderly, only when Grandma is thrown in the “ball tank” – you can bet she won’t be coming back out.
A Brighter Future
It is never easy to let go of those you care for, and I’m sure many Americans will be distraught to learn that their loved ones have to go. As a sensitive politician, and a family man, I feel your pain. For it was just a few months ago when I had to put our family's dog to sleep. She was very sick and barely could muster the strength to wag her tail, much less play around in the yard and do the other things that we expect dogs to do. It’s a sad day when you wake up from a two-day drunk covered in peanut butter, and you realize that there is nobody there to lick it off you except for your fat, ungrateful wife.
Rather than harp on the sadness of losing a loved one, instead think of the wonderful world we will live in when the elderly no longer plague us with their poor driving habits, cantankerous attitudes, and the constant, constant trickle of urine. Massive surplus funds from Social Security can be used to pave our streets, educate our young, feed our poor, and even disguise the aforementioned burn victims. But there will be no money for our burn victims until a politician with the guts and the wherewithal stands up to them and tells them in no uncertain terms to get in the “ball tank” where they belong. My fellow citizens, I would be honored if you allowed me to be that politician.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Everyone has enemies. It is one of life’s great truisms, along with “the sun always rises” and “blacks can’t swim”. When I speak to you today about “enemies” I’m not talking about the international enemies of terrorism and violence that we all know of, instead I’m talking about the enemies that we encounter every single day when we turn on the TV or open a newspaper. I am talking about enemies to the American way of life – people whose mere existence make everyday life a little more irritating and a little less enjoyable for us all.
I am the only candidate for Mayor who has proposed an “Enemies List” because I am the only candidate for Mayor with a bold vision of the future and a moral compass that points strongly and erectly at all times (unless I am thinking about baseball). America’s enemies are many, for now I offer a small sampling:
It is hard to say what is a worse plague on planet earth: the rubber bracelet craze Armstrong created with Nike, or the AIDS virus. At least people infected with the rubber-band bracelet plague are identifiable and can be easily targeted and neutralized.
As for his Tour De France victories, all I can say is perhaps if his competitors weren't busy lugging TWO testicles around France on their bicycles, Lance wouldn’t have such an advantage. On the other hand, at least the other competitors are real men and not surgically reduced to half-man status. His offensive public posturing about “conquering” cancer and being brave and courageous is Madison Avenue spin in its most sinister form. He had a little lump on his teste. It was removed in day surgery. To give this man the adulation of a hero casts a shadow over the thousands of people who die of cancer every year. Are they not courageous enough to defeat their cancer? Are they cowards? Of course not, just like this one-testicalled heathen is no hero. I’m glad his genitals are mutilated.
The list of his evils continues: he also dumped his wife and kids when he got famous to shack up with Eric Clapton's discarded cum-rag, Cheryl Crow – one of Hollywood’s most ignorant celebrities. Even worse than the plague of yellow bracelets, his exploitation of cancer, and his abhorrent personal behavior, the mere fact that this man has popularized the Tour De France, France, and the French people makes him an enemy to America.
Where exactly do you start with Queen Gravy Pig of the Blacks? I guess a good place is to mention the publicity stunt where she "gave away" a free car to everyone in the audience of her show. She never mentioned that these cars were donated by the automaker as a publicity stunt, she paid $0.00 for the cars that she “gave away” and stuck each of her guests with a $3,200 tax bill for “giving” them a car that she didn’t “have” in the first place. Most of her guests had to refuse the “free car” based on the tax burden.
She's also an enemy to America for allowing diminutive manboy and semen-soaked circle jerk whore Tom Cruise get away with his ridiculous antics as the "actor" "acted" like he was in love with a human woman. While the rest of the nation watched in horror and disbelief, Oprah stewed in the drapes of her cellulite husk and cheered him on, perpetuating the charade.
For allowing a forum for radical groups to prophesize whatever their lunatic ideas, trying to destroy the US cattle industry, ruining the publishing industry with her decrees on which books her minions should read, and just being a fat black lump on our nation’s airwaves, Oprah is an American enemy.
Plus, you can just tell that when Giant Oprah sits on the toilet to churn out another steamy Harpo Production, the bitch don't wipe.
Let’s just start by saying this dog of a whore had the gall to complain about the charmed life her husband provided her. This woman was welcomed into royalty and given the life most little girls dream of. She was showered with wealth, adulation of her peers, respect from the world, and all the riches and possessions she could ever imagine. All she was asked in return was to shut her fucking mouth and not cheat on her husband. She failed on both accounts. This disingenuous, selfish animal decided that she didn’t feel loved enough and went and banged her horse-trainer. Real classy. She blamed an unloving environment on her pill addiction, bulimia, and philandering behavior.
Why is she an enemy to America? Because she’s an enemy to Britain, and Britain has stood beside the US to face down evil people like Sadam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden, so we can stand beside Britain to face down Evil Diana. As a decent, sophisticated American, I hate all things French, but I’d like to thank the French construction workers who build such thick concrete tunnel walls.
Nicole Brown Simpson
I hesitate to beat on a dead horse, just as I hesitate to liken an animal like Nicole Brown Simpson to a beautiful and majestic creature like a horse. The fact is, this woman caused our nation a great deal of pain and suffering when she allowed herself to get killed by OJ.
Usually when some black murders a junkie whore it gets little media coverage at all, and that’s how Americans like it. Sure, OJ probably shouldn’t have slashed her throat, but why aren’t people focusing on the evil and sordid life Nicole lived up until OJ’s knife made her into a human PEZ dispenser? This is a white trash woman who was given the riches and wealth that most can only dream for. She squandered it on drugs. Her life spiraled out of control. She married a black. OJ had to actually physically beat and restrain her at times as she raged in drug-induced fits.
Some would say OJ’s only crime was loving his wife too much, others would say double-homicide, but I’m not here to argue semantics. I’m here to call Nicole Brown Simpson out as one of America’s enemies. The OJ verdict divided America into two groups – those against murder (whites) and those for it (blacks). For introducing the world to Kato Kaelin, Judge Ito, Marsha Clark, Johnnie Cochran, Mark Furhman, and Ronald Goldman’s Dad’s mustache, Nicole Brown Simpson is an enemy of America.
I am a politician, not a historian, so I must apologize that I don’t know Amber’s last name. What I can deduce however was that Amber was a very bad little girl who wandered off away from home, took candy from strangers, or talked to people she shouldn’t be talking to. For her stupidity, this great nation is now plagued with Amber Alerts.
When I die, I hope they name a bridge or mountain range after me, not a nationwide alert to remind people of how stupid I am. I watch the newscast for news – not to be aggravated with reports that another child has gone missing. Call me old-fashioned, but there’s a reason I kept my children in the basement until they turned 12. Not only is this Amber character an enemy to America, so are her parents for not properly leashing and shackling her inside where she would be safe.
Michael J. Fox
Family Ties was a wonderful television show that defined the late 1980s. Importantly, the Keaton family provided the angelic yin to the dangerous black yang of the Cosby family. Diminutive Canadian Michael J. Fox stole the show as preppy yupster Alex P. Keaton. Fox went on to star in the Back to the Future movies and then drifted off to oblivion, turning up on another sit-com but never breaking through to superstardom.
I don’t mind tiny little Canadians when they are entertaining me on screen or TV, but it was around this time that God punished this man with Parkinson’s Disease. This tiny little Canadian should have gone into hiding at one of his several homes and shaken himself to death quietly and out of sight of the public. Instead, this tiny little twitching Canadian imp decides that he is going to parade his hideous affliction in front of the American public. He decides to shake, rattle, and roll himself down to Washington DC – our capital, not his – and tell our politicians, to spend our tax money on treatments for his disease. Back of the bus, Rosa! Just because you were once famous ten years ago does not mean that your disease warrants more or less attention than other diseases. Still, this tiny little twitching Canadian imp implores our Congress to step up funding on radical, unproven stem cell research that “could” “maybe” “who knows, someday” cure all life’s problems from Parkinson’s Disease to bad breath to girls who don’t put out on the first date.
Your disease sucks. Sorry you have it. But for using your supposed star-power to lobby my politicians to spend more money on radical treatments for your own personal benefit, you are enemy to all those who are sick and dying of other treatments.
My apologies that we won’t murder American babies to siphon out their precious stem cells, however I have nothing at all against murdering Canadian babies for the same reason. So why not shut up, go back into hiding where people like you belong, and knock up your wife? I’m sure she could get used to sex with a human vibrator such as yourself, and you’ll be able to reap the rewards nine months later in a healthy flesh-sack of stem cells that some of us still refer to as a “baby”.
The Unseen Enemies
My fellow citizens, the people I have mentioned above are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to indecent behavior in America today. Evil people are everywhere, and you can’t pick them out based solely on race, gender or religion (except for Muslims who are all evil and all look alike). The best way to defeat our enemies is to identify them, draw them out into the harsh light of justice, and then punch them in the stomach. The list of enemies is a long one, and it is up to decent, sophisticated citizens like you and I to turn our useless hatred into useful hate crimes. Thank you for your vote.
Friday, June 03, 2005
Other Cultures and People Are Wrong
I believe the children are our future. We must teach them well and let them lead the way. Show them all the beauty they possess inside, or jail them. I only wish the Boston school committee would share in my enthusiasm for teaching the youth of today instead of wasting tax-payer money on teaching “multiculturalism” in our schools.
So-called “Rainbow Day” is an example of this disgusting practice. On Rainbow Day, the administration parades in guest speakers from all walks of life to enlighten the children on the joys of not fitting into decent human society. Let me speak bluntly here: other people and cultures are wrong, and people who are different than us are nothing more than mouth-breathing, knuckle-dragging savages.
A Parade of Losers
The first speaker they trotted into the auditorium was from Africa. Yes, that Africa. The one from the news. Worse, the students were not given any protective HazMat suits when they encountered her, and she was allowed to breathe freely the air that our children were breathing. Exhaling a myriad of contagion with each gasp, this creature dared to tell our children that she lived an acceptable, if simple, form of human life. Well, there’s nothing accceptable or simple about smearing your AIDS-infested feces on your face while you dance ritualistically to the moon. Perhaps this darkened creature should have espoused the virtues of eating sand for breakfast, flies for lunch and your own children for dinner. Check please.
The next speaker was from Greece. We all know Greeks are just Jews without money, but this man had the nerve to say Greeks invented democracy, the arts, history and philosophy. Apparently, they didn’t have time to invent “the bath”. It’s pretty bad when Italians are considered a step up when it comes to hygiene.
When this pizza-flipping beast was finished creaming our children’s pants with tzatziki sauce, the horror only continued. The next speaker came from Brazil. He was going to speak about life in South America, but surely his ulterior motive was to brutally rape the angelic pink flesh off the bones of our daughters. To Brazilians, having sex is a common greeting. It is not unusual in Brazil for people to engage in sex acts on the street, at the beach, or in line for the bank. Abortions are administered at drive-through booths and the man who performs the abortion typically ends the procedure by having sex with the patient’s newly-scoured genitals. To the liberal school committee, a man who lives in this country should be welcomed into our schools and allowed to prowl the halls without a police escort!
As any caring parent would, that evening I pulled out my forceps and magnifying glass and gave my daughter’s vagina a healthy examination. While I found no evidence of Brazilian-inflicted abrasions or other foul play, I made a mental note to have my wife talk to her about proper court maintenance.
The final speaker of the day was a lesbian. I think we can all agree that a little lesbian activity - if properly choreographed and filmed- is healthy for the adult population. However, the brand of lesbianism this brutish woman was advocating is neither taped nor for the privacy of an adult viewing audience.
She was in our schools, talking to our children, and championing a lesbianism that is far from the socially acceptable “cherries-and-cream girls spanking each other while giggling and kissing” lesbianism. This woman wore no make-up, spoke bluntly, and was not dressed as a nurse, librarian or cheerleader. Let me be clear in my political position concerning lesbianism – unless it is filmed and sold for profit, it is a detestable, sordid and completely disgusting way of life that has no business being taught in our schools.
A New Rainbow Day
When I am elected Mayor, Rainbow Day will change. I do not fear other cultures or people - fear comes from ignorance of other cultures – I don’t fear them, I simply pity them. If we were to do away with cultural initiatives in our schools, our children would grow up fearing minorities and that’s the last thing we should wish for. It is important for the Boston School Committee to keep Rainbow Day, but use it to expose our children to the fallacies and horrors of other cultures.
For instance, the African woman would begin to prattle on about the “rich culture” of Africans, and mid-way into her self-righteous speech, the students would each be given a rock to hurl at her. What better way to expose the kids to rich African rituals than to have them participate in the rich African ritual of stoning a woman to death?
Furthemore, in mid-sentence, the Greek man would be shot clear across the auditorium stage with a fire hose and the cheerleaders who run the annual car wash would run out and mop him down.
The sex-crazed Brazilian would be enticed into chasing the sopping cheerleaders from the stage where animal control units would tranquilize him, bag him, tag him, and have the school nurse castrate him.
The lesbian would then be hauled on stage and surrounded by the giddy and soaking-wet cheerleaders, along with two-dozen pillows. If a pillow fight does not commence in five minutes, police would jail the lesbian.
My dream for our children is a simple one: be proud of you are, unless you are different in some way. Then be ashamed only of the things that make you different and work hard to hide your differences from others.
Thank you for you vote, let’s work together to keep multiculturalism out of our schools and keep it where it belongs: in the food court at the mall.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Crimes Against "Jew-manity"
Fifty (or so) Years Later, How the Holocaust Continues to Stain Humanity and Downtown Boston.
We read about the slaughter of Africans, Asians and other miscellaneous “peoples” all the time. In fact, If you watch the news regularly enough the newscasts start to blend into each other… a house-bound fatty was rescued by a talk show host, a drunk crashed his car, a black stole something, a jew is suing somebody, and some ethnic group in a third world nation was wiped off the face of planet earth. Sad, really.
Yet the killing of hundreds (maybe even thousands) of Jews during the Holocaust was not committed by dark-skinned savages on some dusty corner of the earth - it was committed by white people. Stunningly white people. Some of the whitest people on the planet. Ones with blond hair, blue eyes, and cardigan sweaters! The people that brought us the pretzel and the Z4 roadster! These people committed heinous crimes against humanity with the angelic complexion of Christ himself.
I think this is why so many people don’t believe the Holocaust happened. Germans today are known for being gay little engineering nerds – not sinister savages. So people ask, “how could the Holocaust be possible?”
The Holocaust’s Stark Legacy
As a candidate for Mayor in need of financial support, I want to make perfectly clear to all those deep-pocketed Jewish activists out there, that I unequivocally believe the Holocaust occurred, and that it has left an indelible stain on all of humanity. But perhaps the worst thing to come out of the Holocaust is the stark, steel-and-glass Holocaust Memorial misplaced in the middle of one of Boston's most historic blocks.
Wasn't there a barren, wind-swept plaza out of the view of all the tourists that would have been a better site for such a modernistic sculpture? And couldn't they have jazzed it up a little? It's so harsh and austere, where's all the overwhelming gold-trim and brash, “in-your-face” colors that define Jewish artistic taste?
The Boston Holocaust Memorial is a disaster. It is eight, two-story glass tombstones that you walk through with numbers etched into the glass - millions and millions of tiny little numbers. Each number must represent the amount of money that Jews have, but I'm not really sure. Instead of a tourist attraction with a food court, perhaps a donkey ride, and those adorable little posters where the head is cut out so you can have your child photographed to look like a body-builder or a surfer, all we have something that just looks so.... sad.
In my extensive research on Holocaust Memorials (google image search: “Holocaust Memorial”) and was struck by the fact that most Holocaust memorials are just so dreary! They are cold, austere, drab…hardly traits we want in tourist attractions. How are we supposed to forget the horrible acts of the Holocaust and get on with our lives if these monuments serve as such chilling, daily reminders?
The City Parks Commission that provides funding and staging for these memorials should pep them up a little so people will pay to see them. Perhaps Todd Oldham could design one, and Paul Allen can fund it. It would be nice to have something reminiscent of Seattle's Experience Music Project. Then they could launch an ad campaign featuring Sarah Jessica Parker and Bono, and then the memorial would make some money - and that's what being Jewish is all about.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Biting The Tube That Feeds You
Love, Freedom, Mortality and the Tube of Life
The hearts and minds of America have been captured by a lovable rapscallion, a woman clinging to life with the tenacity of a barnacle, and the wit of an infant. What is it about Terri “T-Bone” Shiavo that has captured our imaginations and set our nation’s loins aflame? Is it her twinkling eyes, or perhaps her belly button that devours liquefied hospital fodder via a plastic tube? Perhaps it is her pretty mouth, always askew, as if she is mocking her handlers and nurses with the whimsical joy of a child. Whatever it is about this woman, it’s time for America to band together as one, and stop the ideological fighting over her fate. We are one nation, and we should solve our problems as one nation.
Half of America wants T-Bone’s feeding tube removed, the other half wants it to stay attached. America, it’s time to compromise. I propose that we leave the feeding attached to Terri Shiavo, and just connect the other end of the tube to her asshole. It's a yummy compromise. Hakuna matata, circle of life. What goes in must come out. Think about it. I haven’t.
How an Immobile Vegetable Touched Me
I don’t like bringing up my personal life in a political realm, but this is a story that touched my heart quite personally. My family was thrust into a similar situation many years ago when I was just 16.
It was my grandfather who found himself in a similar situation as T-Bone, and my family had to make the decisions that you never want to consider, let alone act on. My grandfather hadn't so much as blinked in so long... and looking at him, just laying there, motionless, his eyes shut, his mouth open, frozen in a grisly, saliva-stained grin... well… there comes a point where you have to make a decision as a family. Since I was his favorite grandson and his namesake, and because my mother and father were too overcome with emotion to act, it was I who was charged with the hardest task of my life. We all said our goodbyes, and as just a pink-faced teenager, crying my eyes out, I had to personally remove the plug myself. Turns out he was just napping and all I did was unplug his alarm clock. He was late to his Bingo game that night. It was just awful. I still feel terrible about it. I should really call him.
A good thing to come of this debate is that Americans are now talking about living wills. Some people watching this media circus have let it be known that they’d wish to die in dignity if they were ever to lapse into that state.
I personally have alerted my family that if I ever go into a vegetative state for more than 10 minutes that I would like feeding tubes inserted in my nostrils, ears, and mouth, and I would like my eyes plucked out and replaced with more feeding tubes. I would not like to die in dignity... I would like to die in hilarity - being pumped to the gills with liquefied hospital food and explosively squirting diarrhea like a play-dough crank factory gone haywire.
A Raison in the Floridian Sun
It now seems inevitable that over the few days, T-Bone will pass away. Surprisingly, I’m doing OK with this news. Many people fret over Terri’s agonizing final days, laying on a hospital bed, a once plump grape drying out like a raisin, a once tart plum turning into a prune, a once succulent sirloin dried into jerky… she may just be a leathery bag of bone and gut after her body digests itself, but dammit, she is America’s leathery bag of bone and gut and I salute her.
My fellow citizens, the next time you sit down with your family for supper, think of Ole' T-Bone and blend your dinner into a fine soupy paste, raise a glass of blended sludge, and make one final toast to America’s sweetheart.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Standing Firm: My Wishes For the Year of the Cock
The majestic Chinese people have rung in their New Year, raising their tiny, impish hands to celebrate the fact that they are the world’s largest enslaved people. What you and I would rightfully call “2005” is known to these fork-and-knife-eschewing people as “the year of the cock”. Hey, they may have devil slits for eyes, but at least they have a sense of humor! In honor of the Chinese New Year, I have compiled my wishes to make the city we live in a stronger place for our values, our children and our future:
• I wish the Pope would hurry up and fucking die. No offense to Johnny P himself, but I'm getting sick of hearing about his frailty and wretchedness.
• I wish people would start referring to that sodomite Halle Berry as "half-white" instead of "half-black".
• I wish that Extreme Makeover Home Edition has an April Fool's Day episode where they send a poor, disgusting family on vacation to fix up their home, and when the family returns, it's the same exact house, but it's painted green and filled with angry bees.
• I also wish Liz Phair would suck my dick or at least answer my requests with a definitive "yes" or "no" instead of the complicated legalese that I keep receiving from her lawyers.
• I wish the military's "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy also covered the victims of sexual assault, and was extended from the military to society in general.
• I wish there was secret video footage of that freckled black, Condileeza Rice, eating a watermelon while wearing nothing but dung-stained overalls and singing "I been working on 'da raaaaaailroad, aaaaaaaaaaaall ‘de live long day!" Mmmmmmmmphf. What is it about that Monchichi look-alike that steams my hams?
• I wish these police who murdered a 21-year old, female Red Sox fan would instead turn their hatred and weaponry onto 21-year old female Yankee fans.
• I wish blacks would smile more and stab less.
• I wish abortion doctors and Catholic priests would drop the angry rhetoric and realize that they are more similar than they may think because they are both involved with killing children. Abortionists do it by killing the child’s body through brutal scalpel slashings, and Catholic priests do it by killing the child’s soul through repeated, forced sodomy. I think that the two group’s similarities are often lost in the rancor of the debate, and in the end it is the true victims who suffer most: those of us who have to watch the news to get to the weather report. I don’t care what happened in the “rectory” Bobby, and frankly, I don’t think that’s an appropriate word for a 12 year old to use.
• I wish it were legal to hunt midgets. With their recent proliferation in society, I feel a hunting period of just a few months out of the year would do wonders to thin their population, prevent the spread of communicable diseases, and lead to safer roadways - especially in rural areas where they tend to nest and feed.
And finally, I wish you would give me your support and money for my campaign to bring the Mayor’s office back to the people of Boston! The wealthy, white, clean, god-fearing people of Boston deserve better, and the miscellaneous “others” deserve moral caretakers who will block their crime-peddling ways and steer them towards the path of righteousness or prison – whichever is less costly to the taxpayers.
Thursday, December 23, 2004
The Bloodied, Kicking and Screaming Spirit of Christmas
The story begins when Fetus Jesus took those first miraculous kicks at the walls of the Blessed Virgin Mary’s womb, rupturing the umbilical membrane and spilling out the fluids of her holy love all over the floor. Clean-up, aisle 5! Feeling the contractions in her blessed poontang, she turned to her baby daddy, Joseph, and said “the time has come.”
Joseph nodded his head, and escorted his leaking beauty down the streets of Bethlehem knocking at every inn-keeper’s door. Being a Jew, it was in Joseph's nature to haggle with each of the inn-keepers to get a room at a fair rate. After about an hour of haggling with various inns, he thought he had a deal struck at one of them, but when Joseph pressed for free breakfast bar passes, the proprieter refused and called the deal off.
In a huff, Joseph began to walk towards the last inn in town, but fetus Jesus was knocking, hard, and the proverbial hinges on Mary's vaginal doors were about to be blown off. It was go time. Thinking quickly, Joseph and Mary settled into a nearby barn and in a bloody torrent of gore and miraculous holy love (but mostly gore) Mary gave birth to the Jesus, and in the first Christmas miracle, Joseph was able to save a few bucks on lodging.
The moral of the story is that while you may think your family is cheap, chances are your dad never made your mom shit you out in a frigging barn. The town's inn-keepers were more focused on their bottom lines than helping this desperate young couple in a time of need. A little Christian generosity would have come in handy, but before Jesus was born, there was no such thing as Christian generosity. Back then we were all heartless Jews - or worse.
Back in that time of darkness, everyone was out for themselves, and greed and sinfulness ruled the day- best illustrated in the shunning of a young pregnant girl. Ironically, the very person who would change all this hatefulness and darkness in the world was born into a dirty manger - a victim of the very world he would come to save.
So instead of getting drunk this Christmas and banging your boss’s 16-year-old daughter at the holiday party because you’re mad over both your year-end bonus and your wife’s recent gain of ten pounds, instead, try to think about the true meaning of Christmas; the spirit of giving of yourself, embracing those who are down and out, befriending a black or two for once in your goddammed racist life, hepling the needy and ultimately finding grace in the most unlikely places.
For the true spirit of Christmas isn't measured in how many gifts you collect, or how many lights you decorate your home with, or even how many God-less heathens you stone to death in the name of the Savior... the true spirit of Christmas can only be measured by the love in your heart. Merry Christmas to all, and may your wishes all come true and may your neighborhoods remain white and your property values high during the new year.
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
I think with all the commercialization of Thanksgiving it is important to take the time to re-tell the story of Thanksgiving from a historical perspective. Sure those Jews over at Hallmark don’t want you to hear the real story, but Thanksgiving shouldn’t just be about buying ceramic pilgrim sculptures, and tracing your hand to make crude turkey drawings. Thanksgiving is about the life-or-death struggle of a righteous people against an evil menace.
When the Pilgrims first landed on the rocky shores of Massachusetts, they had no idea that the beautiful land that was before them was swarming with diseased and flesh-hungry Indians. One by one, each of these Indian creatures were driven away from the land that they had under-developed, under-used and over-populated for so long, freeing this corner of the world from the murky shadow of unhindered savagery.
After a couple of years of struggle with the Pilgrims, the savage Indian menace had finally been eradicated. No match for the wits, sophistication, hygiene and heavenly blessedness of the Pilgrims, these red-faced ape-beasts were driven deeper into the dark forest, far, far away from the ivory-faced holiness of the blessed Pilgrims.
To celebrate the removal of the Indian menace, the Governor of Plymouth Plantations ordered a feast to be held at the end of the harvest season. At this feast, the pious and gloriously white Pilgrims gave thanks to God for bestowing upon them a bountiful harvest and a fresh start in the New World, free of the heathen Indians.
So as you settle in with loved ones this Thanksgiving, please make sure you take the time to thank the brave and hearty group of people whose strength and courage gave birth to this very nation.
Prior to the arrival of civilized white people, these vicious red-skinned savages had spent their days copulating in the wild like ancient Persian cave-dogs. Thankfully, it was the peace-loving Pilgrims who exterminated this hideous scourge of sub-humanity that had lived under the darkness of time for so long.
There is however a silver lining for the once-craven Indians. For even the ancient wild dogs of Persia have been tamed, their descendants rescued from the wild and domesticated into loving and cuddly family pets. Like these wild dogs, so too have the American Indians been domesticated thanks to good, old-fashioned Christian largesse, and a diet of steady beatings.
Today, the Indians are relegated to small fenced-in patches of the country where they are free to smoke their drugged peace-pipes, wear hollowed-out toads as shoes, and dance around like fire-engulfed apes in whimsical hopes of altering the atmosphere’s barometric pressure so that the sky might rain upon them. Haha! Keep dancing, I’m sure the rain will come! Animals. They have become quite an adorable little people. Government surplus cheese, whey and oat casings have slowly replaced their taste for human flesh, and their drink of choice today- no longer the blood of a white virgin- is good, old-fashioned American whiskey.
So this Thanksgiving all decent, upstanding Americans should give thanks to the Pilgrims for setting the stage for today’s America, yet it is truly the Indians who should give the most thanks.
For God, assisted by his white disciples, has taken pity on their soul-less lives and granted them free land, duty-free souvenir shops, a near monopoly on the moccasin business, gambling licenses, and an addiction to alcohol as strong and binding as their previous addiction to violence and destruction.
In the true spirit of Thanksgiving, don’t forget about the bravery of the Pilgrims, but give time to recognize the great progress Indians have made in transforming themselves from crazed, baby-raping, scalp-eaters into charming -albeit listless- members of our society. Happy Thanksgiving!
Friday, August 13, 2004
My Independant Values Will Not Be Colored By Party Lines.
I think Bostonians could unite around a candidate who believes that liberals can be right and wrong, and that conservatives can be right or wrong too. My goal is to set forth a roadmap that can navigate Bostonians through the windy, twisted roads that mark today's political landscape and lead us towards a better tomorrow. Join me - it's safe, I promise this path won't lead us into any of the neighborhoods you hear about on the news with the shootings and the drugs and the gigantic, fat, crying welfare mothers who swear their child was just an innocent bystander. Please, we know you're all guilty.
My views are neither Republican nor Democratic, so please don't try to define me with your political lingo. I consider myself fiscally conservative because I like to watch the poor starve, but I consider myself socially liberal because I like to throw rocks at retards. In life as in politics, there are two sides to every coin.
Abortion is a sticky subject. It's gamey. It's wet and it smells like soup. But we should discuss it as fellow Americans, not as enemies trying to snipe and hurt each other. I believe that abortion is the cold-blooded murder of a living, breathing human life, and yet I think it's cool and think women who have abortions are edgy and hip. Have you ever dated a girl who's had an abortion? Wildcats!
Restoring Fiscal Health
I believe that the wealthy should get tax cuts to help them spur the economy on via big-ticket purchases such as boats and face lifts for their wives. But the poor shouldn't be left out of government largesse either; the poor should get coupons to Applebees. Tuesday is rib night, so gather up your hordes of disgusting children and pack them in your 8-year old Corolla, Jose.
I also believe firmly that corporations should not be above the law - they should create the law. Who are we to argue with faceless conglomerates? Communists?
I do not believe that gay people should be allowed to get married, I believe they should be forced to get married. Let’s keep our city’s collection of fruit-shitters and pole-smokers off the streets, out of the darkened woods, and into the kitchen.
When it comes to education my views are simple - every child should have access to a fair education. The access should just be made harder on those who will just piss it away, impregnate the cheerleaders and listen to hip-hop. I suggest we ring troubled schools with high fences - fences so high that only those who truly want to learn will attempt to climb them.
In politics, values can be a funny thing because we all define values differently. My values happen to be the correct values, and with your support and your vote in 2006, we have an opportunity to force my values upon all Bostonians.
Republican or Democrat? I prefer to think of myself as an American!
Friday, August 06, 2004
Boston Should Be a City, Not a Benetton Commercial
When we are asked to recall the world’s most detestable minorities, the usual suspects immediately come to mind… the ferocious Negro, the craven Jew, the blood-thirsty Arab, the pie-faced Asian, the sex-addled Brazilian, the crass Italian, the stoopish Canadian, the sterile Finnish, the beady-eyed Slovak, the sodomous Greek, the alcoholic Irishman, the oily Hispanic, the greasy Portuguese, the constipated Englishman, the dog-eating Korean, the non-eating Kenyan, the fascist German, the heathen Phillipino, the wretched Indian, the arrogant Bermudian, the inconsequential Frenchman, and last but not least; the good, old-fashioned, American honkey.
Yes, even white people are the minority in the city of Boston (if you are to believe those Jews over at the census bureau, I certainly don’t). When it comes to race issues in America, I defer to the dearly beloved, and very bullet-ridden Martin Luther King. He taught us that all minorities are equally detestable, should be treated with equal scorn and contempt, and that it often takes two fire hoses to subdue a black if he's angry enough. Really, all this over a bus seat?
This is why I find white racists so despicable. If honkeys are a minority, then white racists are no more than the pot calling the kettle black. Or some other racial slur. In Boston, the thing that unites is that we are all minorities. Nobody wins, and we are all suspect.
Boston is a chunky, vomit-like mix of peoples, so how can we live in one city and be happy? Once these minorities swim to America, or smuggle themselves here in banana cartons, they undergo a long "Americanization" process. Over time and through generations of family they become stripped of their ham-fisted ways and only then can homogenize into decent American society.
I believe that we should help these people help themselves by speeding along this “Americanization” process by banning all despicable foreign music, customs, culture and language and force these people to enjoy American things. Sure, little Pepe may be mad when we take his castonettes away from him, but steer him to a drum set and he’ll be listening to Fleetwood Mac within weeks.
Proof of this can be found in the brown yet wholesome face of that sexy weathergirl on Channel 7. You may be shocked to learn that she’s a Mexican. But she's a Mexican who predicts the weather. It just goes to show you that in America, anything is possible, and we can all be embraced by our fellow Americans as long as we act American. Sorry, but nobody is going to believe your predictions about that Canadian storm system with a burrito in your hand, Ivelisa. Put down the burrito however, and doors shall open.
My fellow citizens, Boston is a big city, and we are accosted by dozens of different minority groups every day. I believe that we can unite as one American city, but we have to work together. I say we start with the Cambodians.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
Homomarriage: Why Fags and Clam Hags Should Have The Right To Nance Down The Aisle
I think that homosexual marriage is another issue where compromise would do both sides of the ideological debate some good. Sure, homosexuality is a detestable and sordid form of humanity, nobody can argue with that - but - if it weren't for gay people who would scold us when we wear black shoes with a brown belt? Who would shriek at unstylish things? Who would continue to prop up sales in the banana industry? Not the Mexicans, that's for sure.
Before we can debate whether two recreational colon-stretchers or two clit-nibbling females should get married, we must first define marriage itself.
Marriage is a legal contract that two people enter into when they look in the mirror one day and realize that they look old, will never regain their youthful looks, and decide to age gracefully with another human without fear of desertion. Remember, for most of America, "aging gracefully” means gaining lots and lots of weight.
Other than the whole “having sex in the park at night” thing, the most offensive thing that homos do is refuse to age gracefully. A straight 53-year-old man will be 20-30 pounds overweight, gets his balding hair cut at Supercuts for $8, and wears clothes that his wife got on sale at Sears. “They’re stain-guard honey, so feel free to drip as much gravy on them as you want.”
Contrast this with a 53-year-old homo; dressed in puma sneakers, a blazer-style leather jacket, highlights added to his Rogaine-thickened gray hair, artsy glasses adorning his goateed face… it’s just sad. Since society has not allowed this man to get married, society in turn has taken away his right to “age gracefully” – i.e. get fat and dumpy.
If we allow homos to marry, instead of making themselves bizarre spectacles of over-baked fashion, they can retire to the confines of their living room and enjoying the comforts of getting fat and gross with the same legal protection that allows straight couples to give up on their physical appearances.
What better way to eradicate these festive people from our darkened alleys and playgrounds than to give them the right to rot away at home on a sofa, eating cheese-doodles, gaining weight, and not giving a shit?
I am a very open-minded person, and I don’t have anything against homosexuals as long as I don’t have to actual see them. So what better way to make them disappear than to shackle them down with the legal bonds that keep married people from leaving their homes? Aha! Suddenly, the hunter has become the hunted, and the homo has become the fat slob with gravy stains on his pants.
My fellow citizens, it’s 2005 and while we may never see brown-eye-to-eye on this subject, let’s work together to find a compromise on this issue. We're going to have to, I’m pretty sure we can’t shoot them.
The Social Implications of Protecting Retards From What They Will Never Know
I recently attended a corporate event where the sponsor hired a comedian for entertainment. The comedian was given a list of topics to avoid since it was a corporate event, and “mental retardation/handicapped” was the first on the list of topics to aviod. Hypocrisy is the common denominator of all social stupidity and this was a case in point. Let me explain….
Imagine the scene at this comedy club; co-workers, clients and friends are having an enjoyable evening… drinks are being drunk, laughter is being laughed, secretaries are being fingered, and food is being eaten.
Then the “corporate-approved” comedian goes into his shtick about fat people at the buffet. It’s not funny, we’ve heard it a thousand times, and yet it’s considered safe, corporate humor.
Why is it socially-acceptable for the comic to mock fat people? Imagine the shame and hurt an overweight lady sitting at a table with her colleagues felt when the comic started ripping into the overweight. Imagine the uncomfortable glances around the table and the scornful looks at the bleu cheese patches adorning her ample jowls.
Even though she may be huge and gross, she came out to have some fun, eat a few dozen chicken wings, and to forget about the agony of her life… instead she is reminded of all her faults and failures in front of her friends and co-workers. And this is what we consider safe, corporate humor.
It’s not that I take offense to the comedian making fun of the obese,fat people are after all more detestable than nazis, but I do take offense to a notion that it is acceptable to mock certain groups of people and unacceptable to mock others.
Which brings us back to the retards. The retarded are the one group of people who should be mocked because they are the one group that won’t know they are being mocked. If mocking somebody is a crime, then mocking the retarded is a victimless crime.
There aren’t going to be any retarded people in the audience, they don’t go to comedy clubs, they don’t enjoy fun or revelry or have friends to drink with. They sit in gloomy, gray-walled clinics, bare their teeth at passerby and clap at music that doesn’t exist. Why not make fun of them? They’re the only safe group we can make fun of. Besides, they are safely caged behind thick walls where they can’t hurt us.
A woman once told me, “you know, they don’t like to be called ‘retards’ anymore.” Well of course they don’t! They prefer to be called things such as “Super Bobby” or “Princess Sally”. But that’s like saying that they don't like to play chess when they could be drinking out of the toilet instead.
My point is that comedy should not have boundaries and we should never pretend that it is acceptable to hurt certain groups of people and not others. As one human family, we should all hurt each other, all the time, always.
I'll never forget the first time I had came into contact with a retard. It was 3rd grade and they put one in the back of our class. He was just a twitching ball of shaggy hair poking out of his helmet and pads, but I'll never forget the advice I was given that day - they're just as scared of us as we are are of them.
If that doesn't make you think then nothing will.
On Abortion - Can Common Sense Rule an Idealogical Debate?
I think that an element of danger should be added - perhaps mandating that the scouring utensils be left unwashed (or unsharpened) at the clinic, or perhaps adding scary lighting and playing Halloween sound effects CD at the clinic where the act is performed. Also, let’s stop calling them “abortion clinics” and start calling them “termination chambers”.
But I believe that the act itself should be completely legal and should be fully protected by US law. I think it’s downright un-American to deny a woman the right to insert or remove whatever she thinks should be inserted or removed from her vargina – whether it’s an old telephone receiver or a human life. And if conservatives want to somehow make this into a religious battle then shame on them. Women should absolutely have the right to protect their bodies, and anything less would be a perversion of the US Constitution itself.
I also believe that photos and profiles of women who get abortions should be posted on-line with other sex offenders. This way, if one moves to your neighborhood, you can shower her with appropriate shame at neighborhood gatherings, you can mark her house in red paint, and scrawl the word “Sinner” on her minivan.
Seriously, is there any room for a little something called “common sense” in today’s political dialogue? It seems everybody wants to divide the country into two camps. Sorry mister, but the last time a country was divided into camps, hundreds (if not thousands) of Jews were killed in a little something we call the Holocaust.