DO I STAND TESTICLED ALONE AMONGST A SEA OF THE VAGINA'ED?

Whats the matter boizos, nothing to say about the quality of our nation's greatest state, New Jerusalem? I thought I was dealing with men here, not puss pusses. Fell free to fight back whenever your balls descend.

Long Island and Southern Maryland need to be renamed

The current names for both locales are innacurate and unreflective of each's respective position as the worst of all United States' destinations. A proposed list of suitable replacements:

For the region formerly called Southern Maryland
Redneck City
The Stone Age with NASCAR
Gateway to Ignorance
Port Filthy STD Soaked Jean Skirts

For the land mass formerly known as Long Island
Dago Isle
Speghetti Slurping Greasball Wop Assholeshore
The Poorman's Corsica
The Land of A Thousand Down-Ups

For consideration for either worthless piece of topsoil
The Fart Fuck Factory
Shithead Paradise
A Place for Faggots
Not Unlike the Inside of My Ass Yes That's Right the Inside

this is a cut and pasted email i received from a co-worker today

We had a shopper complain about the hip-hop music being played b/c she has kids with her, mentioning some touching song.....I think she was talking about the Black eyed Peas song,"My hump."

Stupidest Song of the Year Award

Presented by Dr. David Thorpe from Something Awful

Ordinarily, this category would be nigh unto impossible to judge. One could argue it a hundred ways: does the song with the stupidest lyrics win, or the song with the stupidest musical content? Shall I give it to the song enjoyed by the stupidest people, or to the song written by the stupidest person? And anyway, “stupid” is subjective, so one person’s opinion of stupidity may be another person’s idea of biting satire. So, for all these reasons, I would never dare attempt a “Stupidest Song” category. Ordinarily.

You can go ahead and throw all that shit out the window this year, because the Black Eyed Peas have crafted what is without a doubt the dumbest, most obnoxious song ever to disgrace the airwaves. Previously, we knew the Black Eyed Peas as a formerly socially-conscious rap outfit which mutated into an ignominious, money-hungry cross-cultural minstrel show that shucked and jived its way into the mainstream with its retarded songs about getting retarded. Little did we know how retarded the Peas were capable of getting: “My Humps” is a profoundly retarded product from what has become a terminally retarded band.

The track concerns the humps of Fergie, their garish backup singer. For all the bragging she does about the loveliness of her lady-lumps, she still looks like a washed-up former porn star who took one too many massive insertions into her annals of history (eew, don’t get any ideas, I’m just saying she looks old). Over the course of what seems like about fifteen minutes, Fergie and her reprehensible sellout cohorts expound the virtues of her leathery lizard-flesh to such a maddening degree that the listener will vow never to look at another woman again.

I won’t bother reprinting any sample lyrics here. If you’ve heard the song, you don’t need reminding, and if you haven’t heard it, you wouldn’t believe that I wasn’t making them up. If you did manage to suspend your disbelief, you’d quickly come to the conclusion that the song must be a joke. In fact, while the song certainly isn’t serious, it’s far from a joke. It’s the worst kind of false-humor; it’s a jokey song written by people with no concept of irony and intended for consumption both by people who will take it at face value and by people who will smirk at it. It’s like one of those terrible bargain-bin straight-to-video horror flicks about a killer urinal: it can never be the “cult classic” that the cynical halfwit filmmakers intend it to be because it’s in on its own joke. Something can’t be “so-bad-it’s-good” if it tries really hard to be “so-bad-it’s-good.” Instead, it’s merely false, artless, pathetic, and loved by idiots.

Here’s a little science experiment: go park your car next to the transmitter tower of your local pop radio station. If “My Humps” isn’t already being played, wait about fifteen minutes. When “My Humps” comes on, look at the tower. You’ll notice that the transmitter will be emitting comical green “stink lines.” I swear to god, it’s true.

Runner-up: Nothing else can compete, although, in a better world, “Hollaback Girl” would be the stupidest song imaginable.

Also Known as 25 People No One Gives a Shit About

Apparently this year is the 25th Anniversary of the NCAA Women's Basketball Tournament. If you were unaware of this, congratulations, you're completely normal and in the same boat as the vast majority of people in this country. Honestly, who cares about this crap? If it were not for the WNBA being propped up by David Stern, and ESPN constantly felating its coverage of this crap, we would not have to deal with this plague. So go ahead and click the link if you want, but driving nails into forehead might be more enoyable. Besides, it takes well-deserved coverage away from S.T. Murder.
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncw/news/story?id=2285656

Thing Not to Do In Arlington When You're Red

1) Get there at 2:30am because you whacked off while watching Memoirs of a Geisha with your mom.

2) Pass out 4:00pm the first day you are there, before one of the only two people who actaully want to see you is not back from work.

3) Try to impress people at the sushi place by pointing out that you know the difference between Koreans and Japanese, like anyone gives a flying, slanty-eyed fuck.

4) Take 20, I repeat T-W-E-N-T-Y, caffeine pills at one time.

5) Pull a huge wad of shit-smeared toilet paper out the crapper when the plunger is a foot away.

6) Not drink on New Year's Eve, leave the bar at 12:15am, and completely ignore a girl who totally wants your hogan, then use the excuse that she is not asian, when the real reason is your a pussy and in a union so you are used to having things given to you that you do not deserve and then bitching that it is not enough.

7) Steal your host's hot new Ford Focus, when he still asleep b/c he was a man and got into the black zone on NYE, and lose his cigarette lighter, thereby decreasing the Kelly Blue Book value by at least $5, or $4 more than your life is worth.

8) Challenge Nallsy-Pooh to a football knowledge contest.

CSI: Crunk Scene Investigators

Sorry for the miserable pun, but it's the best my miserable brain could think of after a week of self inflicted brutality. It's also in reference my ongoing invesitagtion of my recent extended trip to Blackoutsville this past weekend. The evidence in the file thus far:

- The weekend in question began around 10pm, Tuesday, December the 27th, when suspect was witnessed imbibing alcoholic beverages infront of an Xbox video game console. The weekend did not end until suspect emerged with one Mathers Oglevy from a Best Buy retail store the following Monday, January the 2nd.

- The suspect knew his weekend was over when he realized that buying such titles as American Pie presents Band Camp and The Party Animal at said retail outlet was neither funny nor worth the expense.

- Acrime scene evidence sweep yeilds few results, as suspect's dwelling was thuroughly scrubbed and cleaned by other co-residents in order to remove comtaminents and filth left by a large, smelly, red, land mammal known as the Vidosh that was holed up in the suspect's domicile for most of the weekened.

- The few pieces of evidence of signifigance are: 1 half full package of crushed cigerettes; 1 napkin with lipstick residue in the shape of 2 human lips; 1 wrinkled long sleeve t-shirt with several stains of human blood on the right sleeve; a mass of blond human facial hair.

- A physical examination of the suspect shed light on to each of the clues. Blackened lungs indicated habitual chain smoking throughout the weekend; the sensitivity of the loins indicated that despite circumstantial evidence, suspect acheived absolutely no sex; the lack of skin on the right palm various other 'falling over' wounds provided a simple explanation of the bloody shirt; the facial hair was a lab match proving it to be the discarded mustache of the now clean-shaven suspect.

- Finally, a breakthrough in the investigation occured when the suspect's bank statement was confiscated. From there, the following account of the alleged weekend could be reporduced:

Tuesday: Suspect had no the day off from work Wednesday and so got black out drunk and played Xbox all night
Wednesday: Suspect dominates a game of Trivial Persuit and chugs day beers near U Street in downtown DC. Later on he and a whole bunch of dudes drink night beers at Harry's near Metro Center. Suspect voms hard but soldiers on at the Clarendon Grill, this time with only one other dude. Stupid band who was once cool and took requests no longer does when suspect is pounding jack and cokes and yelling dumb 80's songs with only one other dude in a crowded bar, though the band once did when the bar was empty and the suspect had dudes AND chicks with him.
Thursday: Suspect is back at work but without managerial supervision, so meets a roomate for beers at lunch and buys New Years Eve tickets. Suspect then also stayed up till 3am but NOT binge drinking because he had to help some big stupid red animal who is an idioit and lazy locate his house from the highway.
Friday: Alone at work again, suspect once more drinks at lunch. He stops breifly to finish the rest of the work day but the big dumb visiting animal absolutley does not and is passed out like a lump of shit when the suspect returns home. Later, the big dumb animal shit wakes up and gets sushi and sake with the suspect and a penquinlike manchild. Later, several more dudes cram into the suspects tiny house and pretend like they are at the original Aqua Velva getting REALLY drunk and trashing the place. The big dumb asshole animal eats 10 caffine pills because it has the brain the size of a pea.
Saturday: Casual drinking precedes the suspect's trip to Vitlows for New Years, while the big moron creature feels sick and doesn't drink and then leaves the bar at 12:15am. Suspect is then deep into the heart of Blackoutsville where only the darkest recesses of the suspect's twisted soul know what happend. The suspect regained consciousness some time later when the penquinboy thrusted his two fingers under the suspect's nose and demand he smell them.
Sunday: Suspect took advantage of the Monday holiday by becoming intimate with his good friend Jager Miester.
Monday: Suspect tries to make himself feel better about his miserable exsistence by buying a basket full of DVDs.

Based on the evidence, we the jury reach a verdict that the suspect is GUILTY OF TOTAL FAGGOTRY and all hope he falls off a cliff. Case closed.