The Death of Tyranny

It is the policy of the United States to seek and support the growth of democratic movements and institutions in every nation and culture, with the ultimate goal of ending tyranny in the world.

Amen to that. That's from the President's inaugural address the other day. Let me just say this: It's about damn time. I tell you what, that tyranny shit has been going on way too long. I'm glad someone is finally gonna put a stop to it.

After thousands and thousands of years of human history that's been filled with brutal tyranny, someone finally had the balls to say they're going knock that crap out. Enough is enough. How much more can we endure? Let's kill tyranny. Kill it. Kill it dead. Fuck that shit. Tyranny sucks! I hate you, tyranny. Asshole.

Sick Time Cooking Shows

I was sick for a few days and I stayed at home and rested, healthing myself back to health. During this period, I rested upon the couch and watched many hours of television to pass the time when I was not napping or reading the classics of Western Civilization.

I found the cooking shows on a channel known as the "Food Network" to be somewhat intriguing. Well, I found this intriguing when Tom and Jerry wasn't playing on the "Cartoon Network." I noticed a pattern during these cooking shows, they all tend to end the same way. At the end of these cookery shows, the head cook would taste the food that was prepared during the course of the program and sometimes some guests or audience members would taste the food as well.

"Mmmmmm. That is soooo good. Ahhh, yes. Ohh wow! That is amazing," the cook would say while contorting their face orgasmically. "Oh, God! Yes! Yes, yes yes! Mmmmmmm. That is so good."

If there was a guest, they would shovel a spoonful into their mouth hole. "Oh yeah. Woooo! That is awesome! Holy [bleeeep]! That is amazing! Mmmm-mmmm-mmmm. That is the best thing I've ever tasted! Oh God, yes! Unnnggh! Whooo! Yes!"

Then maybe someone else would take a taste. "Ohhhh! Wow! Unbelievable! That is soooo amazing! Mmmmmm! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Oh, sweet Lord Jesus that tastes so good! Gawd! That is Heaven. I could die right now. I have tasted heaven."

Then this other shifty guy takes a taste. "Shit! This makes me horny. This makes me horny right now. Who wants to have sex? I will clear this counter top and have sex with whoever gives me the signal. I am serious. This is amazing. Ohhhh! I feel like a rabbit, just humping. Humping so fast and so hard. Like a bunny rabbit, or a squirrel, just goin' to town. Just humpin' like a little animal. You know what I mean? It's just BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM! No, actually, it's faster than that, it's BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM. Oh yeah! That's the way I like it. I like it quick and fast. How fast can you clap your hands? Okay, now clap faster. Now clap faster than that. That's what I'm talking about. Oh God, yes. That turns me on. Ohhhhh!"

"Excuse me?"

"Huh, what?"

"This is a cooking show?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, you have kinda diverged from the show and gone off into some kind of rodent hump thing."

"What? You gotta problem with that?"

"Well, yeah."

"Prude."

"Ok, well, we got this on tape, so we can edit this unfortunate bit out. Would anyone else from the audience like to sample the food? You'll get to be on T.V."

"I'll try it," says a little old lady.

"Okay, c'mon up ma'am."

The little old lady tastest the food. Her wrinkled face frowns a bit.

"Oh no, I'm sorry. That's just not right. No, you let something go sour. Ewww. That is awful. I can't eat that. That is terrible."

Mountain Climbing

Watching the television this morning, I stumbled across an exciting mountain climbing expedition on the National Geographic Channel. These gentlemen, excuse me, mountaineers from New Zealand were attempting to climb Makalu, the world's fifth highest mountain.

As I tuned it, the men were bravely climbing up the mountain and they were all connected by a rope (I assume it was a specialized mountain climbing rope). It was only like the second or third day, but one of the guys was already getting tired. His legs were giving out. He couldn't go any further. He had to stop. While the rest of the team waited for pussboy to unhook and take the walk of shame back down to the previous base camp, the Sherpa took a knee and smoked a cigarette!

It was great, these guys are all exhausted and barely able to keep moving, and the Sherpa was just hanging out taking a smoke break.

Anyways, the men bravely climbed to the next base camp where they shed their gear and set up their tents for the evening. While at camp, the men were debating whether or not to take oxygen. They had this special mountainman gadget that magically measures the oxygen content in the blood. They didn't want to take oxygen because they felt like it was cheating. Two of the men took some O2 anyways. The other two declined, one of which was, of course, the Sherpa.

Unfortunately, I had to go to work so I didn't get to see if they made it to the top. They showed a computer graphic that outlined the rest of their journey. They had to go up to this next spot, then camp, then head over to this other area, camp, then just up over this ridge to camp, and then they're just almost to the point where they can set up camp again and then head over to this other camping spot where they will make their ascent to the summit.

Splish Splash

I don't really know how it happened. I was just sitting at my desk at work drinking a cup of water, then suddenly the cup just slipped out of my hand and water dumped all over me. This wasn't just a little spill, mind you. No, I look like I just got back from a wet t-shirt contest. I was soaked. The bathrooms don't have those little hand dryers either. Then I started to get cold. I was cold and wet, and scared. I wonder if it'd be okay if I worked shirtless?

That's it, I'll take my shirt off and go down to the cafeteria and smear mayonaisse all over me so it looks like a white t-shirt. I'll make it a v-neck t-shirt, and I'll put pickle slices on my nipples. Naw, that's a stupid idea. Whoever heard of a mayonaisse t-shirt? That'll fool nobody. I'll just make a pancho out of a newspaper, that looks more professional.

Naturally, a co-worker stopped by my desk right after the spill.

"Did you wet yourself? You know we have bathrooms here. Hey everybody, Jefe wet himself!"

"Yeah, I wet myself. Instead of just peeing in my pants, I figured I'd just whip my thing out and pee all over my shirt, jackass," I muttered back sarcastically.

"Oooh, I didn't know you were into that golden shower stuff."

"What do you want?" I asked back.

"I was gonna see if you wanted to have a wet t-shirt contest, but it looks like you already did."

"Seriously, what do you want?"

"Maybe you could work shirtless. That would be so awesome."

"Ha ha. What do you want?" I asked again, annoyed.

"No, even better, take your shirt off and go down to the cafeteria and smear mayonaisse all your self to make a mayonaisse t-shirt. You could make it into a v-neck."

Another co-worker, over hearing the conversation piped in, "Yeah, and you could put pickle slices on your nipples."

"Ha ha ha ha," they both laughed.

A third co-worker, the boss of the second, added, "Fuck that, just make a pancho out of a newspaper!"

"Ha ha ha ha," all of them laughed.

The second co-worker added, "Yeah, that would look real professional!"

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

Slappy Returns (With ham!)!

Slappy McBappy with a ham in his hand, hands the handsome and heroic ham high up to the Highness of the Heuropidian Hillocks of Humanidor. The Highness, Hoonray, hands the hock to his hack helper.

"Gracias, merci, grazie, danke, I appreciate the ham. Really, I do, the ham recieves my appreciation. Really," said the Highness of the Heuropidian Hillocks of Humanidor just as he realized that his full name and title sounds ridiculous.

"I knew the ham would please you. I have contacts in the inside, you know," retorted the ever-so professionly dressed Slappy wearing an offcolor suit. Slappy continued, "So, ya got the stuff?"

"Blah, I already don't like you. You just look like trouble. You'll end up gettin' busted and sellin' my ass out."

"This sounds like crazy talk."

"You look like crazy crazy bad time crazy clown hour."

"Gawd. Reason number two hundred and thirty-four why Oklahoma sucks."

"Whatever, ya freakshow."

"Okay, let't cut the bee ess. You wanna make money, I got money. I gotta job, you do it, I pay you. Everybody's happy."

"Not so fast, Batman. How do I know you ain't gonna clown on me?"

"Do I look like a ..."

"You look like the last fucker I iced, nigga."

"Whoa, chill man. Chill."

"Didn't they tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"You better put your diaper on when I come to town."

"Is this a poo-poo reference?"

"Yes."

"Gawd."

"What?"

"It's just so goddamned predictable, I could shit more interesting tales."

"Whatever."

"Whatever."

"Yeah, whatever. This ham's gettin' cold"