June 7, 2010

• A sure sign that God hates your guts

  Are you gay? Does lightning keep hitting you? Okay, then keep reading.

  I was thinking the other day, but I smelled the scent of burning cerebellum, so I stopped. However, in that short time exploring the wonderful world of sentience, I realized something important: don't do heroin. I also learned that two is better one. Also, two is scarier than one. Let me explain! Sit back down! Don't you click out of my page, douchebag!

  If someone is going to shoot you, then they are holding a gun, usually with their hand. That's scary, because being shot is often detrimental to having a pleasant day. But if they have two guns, that's doubly as scary. If they're holding three guns, then not only are they talented, but they're also triple the scariness of a one-gun holding gun-holder.

  This same principle applies to knives.

  And grenades.

  If your boyfriend sleeps with that skank Samantha Mason, then that's okay, because he promised that he was drunk and would never do it again. However, if it happens twice, then you know he's full of CRAP! If it happens a third time, then that's when you know he's a certified man-slut and it's time to cut him off, before calling him two hours later crying and drunk telling him that you both can make it work.

  Now, what if God keeps doing something over and over, huh, Lousiana? You know what I'm talking about. Girls come to your cities every year to show the excess fat on their chests that are used to feed infants in exchange for a string covered with shiny plastic spheres, and for that, you are all damned. First, you had Hurricane Katrina, then Hurricane Rita, then Bobby Jindal was elected for your governor, and then you had an oil spill off your coast. Are you going to keep pissing God off by playing the Devil's music? (Jazz) It doesn't take an idiot or a multinational multimedia sensationalist propaganda giant to put those things together to indicate that you're a bunch of sinners.

  Did you realize that the radar signature of the precipitation in Hurricane Katrina vaguely resembled a fetus during one of it's frames? I didn't either until the Colombia Christians for Life pointed that out to me, and I nodded, smiled a little to myself and said quietly "You know what? You crazy douches are right!" That's because Lousiana aborts babies. According to my calculations, Lousiana witch doctors abort approximately 5,000 innocent babies per second. Those are all precious little babies who will never get to grow up to eat turkey bacon, watch pornography, throw rocks at cats, invent the cure for stupidity, avoid child support payments, etc. That makes me really sad inside to even think about it. It makes me so sad that I want to just throw up, but instead of regular vomit, I would throw up pure tears.
  
  OKAY, This next paragraph is going to contain some very disturbing language, so if you're easily offended, then just skip to the pink text to get the potential mental images out of your mind before they even have a chance to get into your head like a mindworm burrowing into your brain.

  Gay people. There a lot of them. Do they deserve to go to Hell for an eternity? You betcha. If you stick it in the wrong hole, then you're going be set on fire FOREVER. Not 1,000 years. Not 8,000,000 years. Not even 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 years. No, it's going to be FOREVER. However, gay people keep sticking it in the wrong hole, and in particular, the hole where the poop comes out. Does that make sense? I would never let anyone near my anus, because I can barely fit my finger in there, so I can't imagine a penis being in there, even if I was on crystal meth. No way. If I ever got a tattoo, it would read "exit only" and it would point to my butt. I would also have it in French, Spanish, Russian, Swahili and Lithuanian, so guys from foreign countries would know, because sometimes when you're backpacking through Europe and end up in an orgy, there can be a language barrier. They just know you're American and say "I want to do the sex to you." and you're like "Uh! NO!?" but they don't understand, or at least, they were pretending like they didn't. And then when you're kidnapped by human sex slave smugglers, the clients don't understand when you're screaming at them in English, and they end up beating you with their shoe and then yelling at your pimp in Turkish about how their prostitutes are unruly and kill the mood. Wow, that was dirty. I should tell a unicorn story to balance this out.

  Little Princess Unicorn Magic Castle Fairy Adventure
  
  Once upon a time, in a magical castle in the clouds where there were rainbows everyday, there lived Little Princess Unicorn. She was very nice, and invited her fairy friends over for tea parties, and bake them cookies. One day, a magical pumpkin appeared outside the cloud castle. "Oh dear!" Little Princess Unicorn exclaimed. "Whatever could this be?" So she took it to her fairy friends, who told her that it was magic pumpkin, and that if she made it into a delicious pie, she could get one wish. Little Princess Unicorn was delighted, and decided to bake a delicious pumpkin pie, and make her wish. When she made the pie, though, she didn't know what to wish for. So that night, she looked up at a magical shooting star and said "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, whatever shall I wish for?" and just then, her prayer was answered because a super-wise owl landed at her window and said "Do not worry, child. I am the very wise owl." Little Princess Unicorn was so happy and asked "What should I wish for with my magic pumpkin?" The wise owl thought for a bit, and then replied, "You should wish for what is in your heart!" and then he flew away. So Little Princess Unicorn went to the magical pumpkin pie and ate every last bite. Then  she said quietly, "I wish to be a fairy princess!" and her wish was granted. She turned into a little fairy princess and married a fairy prince and lived happily ever after.

  Alright, back to my post.

  Okay, this giant pool of oil is obviously symbolic for the amount of gay lube that Lousiana is using. It's there to let everyone know that New Orleans is a bad place where people can't keep their pants on like Lil' Wayne. Because his pants are too big. And they fall off. And he's from New Orleans.

  Actually, okay, post over! It's done! I think I've made my point.

  • 6:39 pm
  • 104 Comments