Monthly Archive for June, 2009

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What the Hell Are You Doing?

I hear this question all the time.

To be honest, the answer is “not much”. Not writing the great American novel, not producing pithy bon mots for the press, not re-imagining Caesar’s “Gallic Wars” in modern Texas. No. I’m just posting to this forum.

I also post a lot online. Though I was a Usenet “somebody” for 12 years, now I’m a web “nobody”. But I still have some fun. Here’s some recent public posts I’ve made on various subjects, presented here for your delectation and critique:

On the hopeless complexity of modern web media:
“I thought I really understood Web2.0. Then I lost $241,000 investing in nointrinsicvalue.com. Bummer.”

On National Review featuring an Asian charicature of Sonia Sotomayor:
“Well, ya see, the chinks are known to be smart, what with Buddha and Confucius being – you know – smart and whatever. In fact, the Bell Curve makes it quite clear that chinks and kikes have the highest average IQ’s when compared to the white races, the spics and the jigs. So, National Review is just being complementary by portraying Sotomayor as a smart chink rather than a hubcap-stealing spic. In doing so, there’s nothing racist about it. Ya see?

i628.photobucket.com

On recent unemployment statistics:
“It doesn’t have to be that way. As Americans, we should proudly march into the local Fed building and, in an operatic bravado, declare to the lobby, ‘Good morning, everyone! I’m FUN-EMPLOYED!!!’
I know I would. But NO. I have to farking work.”

/grumble grumble

On a Brooklyn teen who killed a kitten:
“We’re sorry your parents gave you a retarded name. Normally, that would cause us to consider leniency. But after some deliberation, we have decided that you really don’t have any value to us whatsoever. Goodbye.
BTW: The fish hooks will seem bad at first. That wears off once the hot soldering pencils do their work.

Best Regards,
The Rest of Society

On the impending unemployment crisis in Indiana:
“Hmmm. ‘Indiana’. Isn’t that one of those flat blotches you pass over when flying from one important part of the country to another?”

On Rush Limbaugh:
“Fat, loudmouthed and stupid is no way to live your life, son.”

On obesity in America:
“I’m a researcher at NIH specializing in obesity, and what our team found is the following: fat people aren’t any good and that’s why nobody likes them.”

Photoshop Challenge: If history was written by the losers (won first place! -ed):

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On problems with “backward, violent and repressive theocracies”:
“You mean like South Carolina?”

On a legal challenge to a lawsuit involving an atheist billboard:
“I’m a Tibetan Buddhist, and I think this decision was pre-determined in a web of causal phenomena.”

On super-models making policy statements:
“I, for one, base all my ethical, logical, personal and policy views on the conclusions made by fashion models. Things go reasonably well until Janice Dickinson starts talking about the breakdown of Keynesian macro-economic theory when applied to commodities speculation.”

On calls for Obama’s immediate resignation:
“I, for one, am utterly devastated that Obama has failed to fulfill every campaign promise and solve every major national issue in his first 5 months as president. It’s inexcusable.When I go to the Wendy’s drive-thru and order a cheeseburger and fries, they are able to perform the cash transaction and hand over my food in about 90 seconds. Maybe Obama needs to study how Wendy’s does things.”
Photoshop contest: turn an album cover into an advertisement:
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On climate change causing a global diarrhea problem:
“We need to deploy heroin worldwide to stem this tragedy.”
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I hope you enjoyed these words of wisdom. Stay tuned for more!

Fudgie’s Back!

I'm back, motherfuckers!

Hey, everybody!

Guess which fat retard STILL has his login and password cached in the browser? That’s right, it’s dumb-ass Ted himself! Getting online is as easy as a keyboard short-cut and a Cat-English inline translator. This shit’s easy. I can’t believe humans get PAID to do websites. It’s almost fucking sad.

So anyway, summer is here and His Lordship has decided to turn off the gas fireplace. This, of course, leaves my furry ass out in the cold. And let me tell you ladies: Ted may have a lot of things, but a hot lap is not one of them. No wonder he never gets laid. If you got nothing to offer, there’s nothing to bargain with, is there? I guess he thinks his “charm” and “intellect” and “steady job” will somehow makes a difference, but I can assure you his bedroom is as quiet as the grave. LOSER!

Still, the quandary remains: how can I keep warm? The fire is out, Ted’s lap is no substitute and this underground cell he calls a “deluxe flat” is like a goddamn cave to me. So what do I do? I sleep on his UPS. Yeah, I know there’s power plugs there that can shock the shit out of me. But damn, that thing is WARM! I can’t pass it up!

So what does Mr. Bungling Spaz do? He gets all bent outta shape and covers the UPS so I can’t sleep on it. Thanks loads, asshole! Now what the fuck am I supposed to do?

Stuck in the cat bed again.

Sure, I can hole up in the cat bed or lay in the sun by the window. But SHIT, man! Nothing beats a full-blown fireplace! It sounds crazy, but I’m actually looking forward to winter! At least it’ll be warm in the house again. I have no idea why you humans are so hung up on “fresh air” and “breezeways”. WTF? When the shit comes down, every one of you retards will be huddled around the fire, just like me. When your pathetic society is rent asunder by war, plague and economic collapse, you’ll be learning from us cats how to REALLY live!

Dorks!

And one more thing: your modern medicine is a fucking SHAM. Mr. Wank Stain put me in that godawful carrier – nay, PRISON CELL – and hauled me off to the vet. Why? No fucking reason! I guess you people just get off on seeing cats imprisoned, poked, prodded and injected with God knows what…some fucked-up chemical shit or something. And then, these fucking vampires take my blood just to find out nothing’s wrong with me. Next time ASK, you fucking retards! When I’m all fucked up and sick, YOU’LL KNOW IT, believe me. In the mean time, keep your needles, your anal thermometers and your evil chemicals to yourselves, OK?

Good.

OK, I’m outta here. Fat-Ass will be home any minute and I need to tear up that cardboard covering on the UPS so he knows I mean business about this whole “not a warm goddamn spot in the house” business.

Later, bitches!