I Finally Got Around To Avenging My Father's Death At The Hands Of Pirates

I had racked up some serious air-miles on my credit card and was looking for a way to use them when it dawned on me that I had unfinished business with Malakan Pirtates down in Indonesia. They had killed my father. Now it was payback time.I got a sweet deal on Cathay Pacific and Sunday night I made the 15 hour flight to Jakharta. Durring a half-hour layover in Hawaii, I sat next to Kevin Federline at an airport bar and stole his American Express card. Once I got to Jakharta I rented a Vespa and drove south east towards the coast. Along the way I stopped off at my friend, Veeng's home. I'd only known Veeng from the Aha message boards but he's a great guy. He owns a chain of Indonesian icecream parlors and is also a well known international arms dealer. Veeng set me up with a G-36 assualt riffle, free as a loaner but I insisted on paying for the RPG with 20 extra rounds (hey, Federline was payin'). Veeng asked me if I needed any help but I told him that this was something I needed to do alone. So Veeng handed me his HK USSOCOM .45 with silencer as a good luck charm. I thanked him and slipped my yellow Vespa in gear and putted off to my destiny.

An hour later I pulled up above the "Fishing Village" that this band of Malakan pirates called home. It's the rainy season in Indonesia and the ground was too muddy to use the kickstand, so I leaned it up against an out fo the way tree and then made my way down the hill. The heavy rain masked my aproach and as I neared the first hut I saw a Malakan raider-boat pull up onto the beach and six armed me jump from the boat. They were laughing and yelling, they must have come back from a successful raid and I could feel the hatred burn inside me. I unholstered my .45 and enetered the first hut, it was empty except for straw mats and a few pots. I came back out and slowly worked around the edge of the hut and then stopped and leaned to my right to get a view of the beach. Two of the pirates were walking towards the hut, their AK-47s slung over their shoulders as they laughed and joked with eachother. I slipped back inside of the hut and slipped my safetly off. The two pirates never saw me. Two down, fifty more to go (maybe more, maybe less. I'd forgotten to eat anything since I left Los Angeles and I was starting to get loopy).I left the hut and saw that the rest of the pirates had gone to join a large group in a big open long building that must have been like a dining hall. It was a tall structure I assume designed to work with the tide as many coastal indigs build their huts on pilings. There were a lot of them. I scanned with my binoculars and didn't see any children, this must be a professional pirate outfit because many Indonesian pirates live with their families, not these guys. So I began to plan my attack when I noticed that below the wooden floor of the dining hall hut they had stored around 30, fifty gallon drums of fuel. These clowns obviously didn't play many video games, this was ging to be easy. I unslung my RPG launcher and loaded a projectile onto the tube, I then counted to three and then stepped out, aimed and squeezed the trigger. The round was low and actually skipped off of the sand before it slammed into the cans of fuel and detonated. The only thing more satisfying than the ten-story fireball was the screaming of the three pirates that had been blown clear of the hut and lay burning on the sand. I unslung my G-36 and put them out of their misery.I guess I'd nailed them all because there was nobody else around. I sank all of the boats with my remainig RPG rounds and then made my way back up the hill to my Vespa.

The whole operation took maybe 2 hours and most of that was walking down and back. I drove back to Veengs and returned the G-36 and the HK.45. He'd started a bar-b-q and we dined on stake and told stories for the rest of the evening. I then drove back to Jakharta and turned in my Vespa and caught an early flight, I used Federline's AMEX to upgrade to first class. I slept all the way back to Los Angeles. As I drove the 400 miles back to Carmel it was only then I remembered on important thing....

My father had died from Diabetes, not Malakan pirates.Man, what was I thinking? My bad.

[Note: I did not actually kill any pirates. At least as far as anybody knows]

I'm Sorry I'm Fat.

I'm sorry I'm fat.

I really am, I'm sorry that my fat offends you and you don't want to hire me or be seen with me.
I'm sorry that I wrecked my back. I'm sorry that I had been a body-builder and didn't realize that because I'd wrecked my back that I should have stopped eating like one. I thought I would be okay and that I would bounce back from my injury, but I didn't and I got fat. I'm sorry I'm fat.

I'm sorry I don't have time to cook healthier food. When I hurt my back I lost my job and I racked up a lot of debt. When you have no money you find that food that's bad for you is cheaper than food that's good for you is. Not all of it, but most of it. I payed off my debts, but because I'm fat I still offend people. I'm sorry. I could have made more money but I stayed at my job because I believed my boss when he told me that I would someday be rewarded, so at the age of 35 , I was making $9.50 an hour, even though I would have been paid $25 an hour anywhere else. My reward was a damaged back and a pink slip. I'm sorry I trusted my boss, I will never make that mistake again. I don't trust anybody any more.

I'm sorry I didn't become an alcoholic or a drug addict instead of being fat. People feel sorry for those people, they make excuses for the behavior of those people. They talk about broken families, hard times, lost jobs and pain and say that the alcoholic and the drug addict must be excused for their problems. I used food instead of drugs or booze but people hate me. They don't make excuses for me because I offend them. I wonder why? Unlike alcoholics, I can drive safely. Unlike drug addicts, I've never stolen anything to fence for a cheeseburger. Unlike either one, I've never hurt other people yet I'm the one who offends most people.

Some day I will be thin again. I will be invisible. I plan to return the cruelty I've been shown these last few years by my fellow man. I'm not going to run around with a chainsaw or a high powered rifle, I'm simply going to show the same understanding an compassion I've received.

Then you'll be sorry.

CNN Manages To Over-Hype A Story Yet Again.

Have you ever seen a small dog dry-hump someone’s leg? He knows it’s not another dog, he just can’t control himself. You usually have to pop him a couple of time on the nose with a rolled up newspaper to get him to knock it off (some dogs will do this even after they’ve been fixed too). Anyway, today a small plane crashed into an upscale apartment building in Manhattan and CNN’s coverage reminded me of a little dog drying-humping a leg. Wolf Blitzer and the various CNN anchors and correspondents all had that same black look on their face that the dog does as he grinds away; that look that says “I know this isn’t the real thing, I just can’t stop myself”.

These stories have become so predictable in the way that coverage develops that it’s almost a comedy. For instance, once it was certain that the plane belonged to a New York Yankees pitcher and the make and model of the aircraft was determined, they spent almost 20 minutes on the fact that this aircraft was equipped with a parachute, even pulling video off of the internet showing the plane over the desert deploying the chute. The thing is that the parachute was never a factor in this crash beyond Lidle’s decision to buy it in the first place. Other than a one line mention for background, the chute should never have rated the valuable airtime that it did. Then they brought out that aviation analysts who then speculate on the cause of the crash; giving long, detailed theory of what lead the plane to crash, then as more information came in they would have to re-evaluate their whole scenario. I’m writing this at 3:23pm Pacific time, I fully expect to see a computer simulation by the 6:00pm flagship news shows.

Meanwhile on FOX and MSNBC, they had moved on to other news stories. This crash wasn’t an act of terror and those newsrooms deserve credit for pragmatism and common sense. Instead of spending all of that airtime dealing with a regional accident, they got on with the job of bringing us the news of the day.

Way to go Fox News and MSNBC!

I Exacted Revenge for 9/11 By Sleeping With Ashley Simpson

I Took Revenge for 9/11 by Sleeping With Ashley Simpson*

In the days and months after the events of 9/11/2001, I was lost, confused and angry like most Americans were. I needed to strike back, the Army wouldn’t take me and after checking various maps it turns out you cannot drive to Afghanistan from California, thus I was shit out of luck. I needed to even the score, to do something to get back at Al Qaeda and the enemies of freedom. I first tried conserving gasoline by driving less and keeping my engine tuned up, I even bought an energy-efficient dryer and bought florescent light bulbs. While I saved about $150 a month on energy bills, I wasn’t sure how that translated into financial loss for the Saudi oil families who contribute to the Madras’s that spew anti-western hate. After doing some math it turned out that my act of defiance added up to a gross loss of .000012 cents to the evil-doers. So I then switched to watching movies and listening to music made by Jews (except Barbara Streisand), I figured that if Jews continued to be popular in the west it would be a total burn on bin Laden and his toadies. I even masturbated to pictures of Torri Spelling and Jamie Lynn Siglar. While I’m sure this kept them awake at night in their caves I couldn’t be completely sure if it was me or the constant bombing by the Air Force. No, I needed to do something that would make a statement, something that would say “I’m proud to be an American” and “Fuck you, bin Laden!” all at the same time. I spent hours locked in the shed, I mean Isolation Tank behind my house, meditating on this most profound of actions. Then one night I was awaked by the neighbor’s cat, which was in heat and caterwauling, I would sleep with Ashley Simpson.

I won’t go into the details of how exactly I pulled this off, only because I now want to try sleeping with Jessica Alba and Jessica Beal and my secret must remain unspoken. I met up with Ms. Simpson at a Howard Johnsons in Muncie, Indiana; and after a nice dinner at the Stucky’s and then finding a killer deal on a case of Mickey’s Big Mouth malt liquor at 7/11 , we went our room to make sweet love. In truth, it was more like a contact sport, Discovery Channel-Baboon type-sex where lips embraced secret places and stuff got poked and pulled in a way that said “God Bless America!” Ms. Simpson was Patriotic too; she told me (just before I did her for the fifth time) that she was also using me for revenge too. She didn’t say against whom, but I’m sure it was against bin Laden too.
A true, loyal American is she.

So, after 12 hours, I blew my last wad of manly essence on her back and rolled off and went to sleep. When I awoke, she was long gone; I was surprised she could still walk. I got out of bed and after checking to see if my nipples had stopped bleeding I hopped into the shower. I stood beneath the hot water, a man reborn in the light of nasty sex and freedom. I had shown them, those cave-dwelling Islamo-weenies, America was still here and still strong. As long as a sleazy dork like me could make rusty-monkey-love to a chick like Ashley Simpson, then the terrorists had lost. There’s your icy cold plate of revenge, Al Qaeda, EAT IT RAW! Not to be out done by Jessica Simpson’s little sister, a few months later Britney Spears not only let some skuzzy looser get to the pink, she went the next step and MARRIED HIM.

Damn it, with patriots like Britney and me, Al Qaeda should just quit right now.


* Author did not actually sleep with Ashley Simpson. However if anybody has Jessica Alba’s number he would be appreciative.

Conspiracy of the Month: Giant Killer Wombats

Dammit! The news is totally ignoring this. Right now, the continued exisitance of mankind is in question. See, a bunch of Giant Wombats escaped from a laboratory in China, where Chinese and south African scientists were breeding a race of Giant Wombats to use in mining operations. They got too big and just tore the doors off of their cages and then they killed the entire staff....developing a taste for human flesh.Now they're loose, and I think they're here.No, I haven't seen one, but I have evidence:Kielbasa prices are at an all time low. Although Wombats are said to be erborial, they're also fanatical Kielbasa eaters. This means that Wombats have stopped eating Kielbasa....what are they eating now? Hmmmmm?New housing sales are at an all time low and housing sales are dropping. Where are all of these people going? What happened to them? I'm pretty sure that if you check the records, right before these individual markets collapsed, a family of giant Wombats moved in. Nobody wanted to say anything because of political correctness, they didn't want to be accused of species-profiling. Now it's too late.Those failing housing markets are in Florida, where they also have all of those sinkholes. Those sinkholes are caused by the burroughing of the Giant Wombats, although I'm the only one who's put 2 and 2 together.Now a few people have tried to link the Giant Wombats to the attacks of 9/11, saying that they'd dug out the foundations of the World Trade Center and then hijacked those planes, and that the government knows this but doesn't want to panic the public about Giant Wombats let alone Giant Wombats that know how to fly airplanes. I don't believe this only because if Wombats had been behind the attacks they would have hit Chicago. This is because everybody knows the best Kielbasa can be found in Chicago. Besides, the Bee Gees have been trying to warn us with hidden messages in their music for the last decade, we just haven't noticed because who the fuck listens to the Bee Gees?