Friday, September 23, 2005

"Fight For Your Right," An Early Draft

You got to fight!/

For your right!/

To celebrate youth and flaunt your carefree attitude toward the world!/

Thursday, September 22, 2005

"OPP," An Early Draft

/You down with OPP?

/Yes! You are familiar with my personal preferences as they pertain to sexual encounters outside of a monogomous relationship!

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

The Bush Administration Has A Softball Team.

Alright, who we playing today? Brookings? Oh, Jesus. Unbelievable they’re still allowed in this league. I mean, are we the only team in this town that isn’t stocked with cheaters?

Who’s pitching? Probably that Reynolds asshole, right? Great. Another fucking POW war hero. Every time I step up to bat I’ll be worried he’ll mistake me for Victor Charlie and slit my throat. I’m telling you the guy is mentally unstable. Remind me to talk to the umpire about that.

Who’s umping anyway? Are you kidding me?! Schumacher?! I’m sorry, there’s no fucking way I’m gonna let him ump this game. What do you have Alzheimer’s, he fucked us all through last year’s playoffs! Every fucking call went to Treasury. Strike zone the size of your grandmother’s vagina. Fuck that. He’s not umping this game. Forget it.

You want a reason? I’ll give you a reason. Meghan’s Law, how’s that for a reason? What do I mean? I don’t mean anything. But let me ask you this: does it bother you that a convicted sex offender can hang around in a public park where mothers bring their children? Yes or no? Yes or no?

Wait a minute, who said he was a child molester? Did I say that? But did I use those words? No, no, did I use those words? That’s right, I didn’t. I simply asked a question.

Let me see the lineup.

This is all wrong. Totally ass backwards. No, shut up. If you knew what you were doing, I wouldn’t have to be here half a fuckin hour before the game starts every week, holding your hand and changing your diaper and making sure the umpire isn’t a mentally-unstable liberal pederast.

Did I say that? Did I say that?

Get your pen out, here’s the real lineup. You ready? Pritchard leads off. Then Miller, then Monkey Cock. Put Anal Wart fourth. Then me, then Taint, then Butt Munch, then Brownie, Pus Boy, Scooter and Dingleberry. Got it?

Scooter’s out? Since when? Well who do we got for a sub? Condi! Have you lost your fucking mind! Goddamnit, how did she even know we were looking for somebody? Was it you? I swear to Christ if I find out it was you, they’re gonna be playing croquet with your nuts down at Gitmo.

Well, of course she wants to be included. When does she not want to be included. Story of her fucking life. But you know what? She can’t play for shit, and this isn’t the University of Michigan. If I wanted cunts in the lineup, I’d call Lynne Cheney.

Do me a favor, call Bolton. Tell him Turd Blossom wants him to call Condi, have her meet him in New York. He can tell her it was my idea. In fact, have him tell her I’ll be there too. No, he doesn’t have to fucking go, don’t be an idiot.

In fact, ask him if he’s got a glove.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

FEMA Director Michael Brown Has A Wife

Is something wrong? You're goddamn right something is wrong. Oh no, don’t you dare pull that “I’ve got a job to do” shit with me now. Not after what I’ve been through these past two years. You know sometimes I think that’s why you took this job. “Uh-oh, Sheryl’s on a rampage. Thank God for that landslide in Ventura.”

Yes, thank you, I realize New Orleans is underwater. But you know what? I don’t care. Senators are calling for your head on national television? Big deal. I’m talking about what’s going on here, in this house, right under your nose. This week has been a Category 4 natural disaster for this family, Michael. And I, for one, am not satisfied with your response.

What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. Your son Frederick turned in a plagiarized microeconomics paper and was promptly expelled. When did I find this out? When I went in to meet with his guidance counselor this afternoon, by myself. You’ll be interested to know the counselor asked if Freddy’s father was aware of his disciplinary issues. I said no, but that shouldn’t be a surprise, since his father just announced on CNN that he was unaware of the thousands of refugees stranded at the New Orleans Convention Center.

What’s that? The President says you’re doing a good job? Well then, mission accomplished! A pat on the back from Joe Integrity himself. Wow, congratulations. Next stop, medal of freedom.

Oh, he appreciates you. Well isn’t that sweet. Maybe you ought to divorce me and marry him then. Kids, come inside! Meet the new first lady!

Hey, didn’t I hear someone leaked a memo saying you waited until the day of the storm to request help from Homeland Security? Any thoughts on where that came from? Nah, couldn’t be The White House. They never leak. Valerie Plame, who's that? Hey, by the way, Stevie Wonder called. He wants his eyesight back.

I have no idea what I’m talking about? Oh, you don’t want to have a conversation about qualifications right now, Mr. Arabian Horse Show Association. No you do not.

Yeah, well, when your parents turn on the TV and hear Scott McClennan say you’ve “decided to spend more time with your family,” you better hope no one is pointing a camera at me. Because they'll see me at the beach house, changing the fucking locks.