All Hail Tiger Woods

Dave Atsals

Tiger (the name says it all) Woods has been beat up, beat off, ridiculed, and fairly accused of doing what most men can only dream of.  To that end I say, All Hail the Tiger!  I know many are saying that these are despicable acts he committed that have caused much damage, but, in reality, everyone will be just fine (trust fund me on this). 

I know Mindy Laywton is still screaming his name.  She’s lucky, for it seems he took her on pro-bono.  (Remember Sesame Street?  Which one of these is not the other?).   After all, a drunken Tiger is not a bad catch for a waitress at a pancake house.   Better than I ever got…where’s my pancakes you toothless whore! (hat tip: Shappy).  Elin Nordegren, his soon ex-to-be, will end up loaded (and not in the drunk pancake house boinking kind of way).  His children Charlie and Sam may be impacted by this in the future, but, hey, at least they have normal names unlike most superstar kids.  Most of the child star phenomenon can be linked to poor name choices.  I’m talking to you Moon Unit.  Besides, neither of them has been hung over balconies, pricked by needles to establish paternity, and both will have a college fund on a NASA budget level. 

Tiger seems to be mirroring the life of his idol, Michael Jordan…perhaps taking the phrase I want to be like Mike just a little too seriously.  Jordan was also the king in his sport when he ran into gambling and infidelity problems.  Like Mike, Tiger is now taking an indefinite leave from his sport.  Some of Tiger’s sponsors may be hurt, claiming cost damages of 5-12 billion dollars.  Personally any company that has 5-12 billion to spend on Tiger commercials can handle the hit.  Besides, past sponsors like Nike, Gillette, and Gatorade will easily be replaced with new ones such as Trojan, Cialis, and Maaco.  Rumor has it, Elin is already working out a deal with Spalding to market a new driver called, The Smasher, with the campaign, so many car windows, so little time.

Take a look at some of the reported mistresses: our four waitresses, two from the adult film industry, two models and one cougar.  This tells me Tiger is not stuck on himself and does not discriminate based upon age, wealth, weight, or even looks.  In fact, it seems as though he is just basically horny and wanted.

These escapades are not surprising to me. The life of a superstar, much like a Daily Discord contributor, is not like the life of your average American nobody (AAN).  But let’s face it, everyone can’t handle temptation like a Catholic priest (maybe not the best example, but you get my drift).  Many pro athletes have a girlfriend in every city they visit.  Wilt Chamberlain, the first sport star to hit a million (and we are not talking dollars), had hundreds of women in every city.  These women are not victims.  This is what they wanted.  Just ask Ben Rothlisberger. 

But one question still haunts me:  how did a guy with the name Wilt successfully bed so many women?

This does lead back to the steroid question in golf.  The PGA has no drug testing policy in place, often sighting the fact that most competitors are fat and out of shape (obviously not steroid users).  Besides, if they tested for narcotics, pot, and alcohol, John Daily would be permanently barred from the tour.  Even Happy Gilmore may be forced out of the major tournaments.  They also believe theirs is a gentleman’s sport where they call their own fouls and trust their member’s integrity.  Tiger, after all, is a member of the firmest standing, thanks in part to the untested purple pill.  These escapades make me wonder, could he be using steroids?  After all, his gentleman image is now down the tubes and his new body-builder-like physic was not gotten at pancake houses while boozing.

To all of this I say, All hail the Tiger.  I imagine the new Cialis, “I Want to be like Tiger” campaign is already in the works.  It’s simple chemistry: 1 Tiger + one Cougar + two purple pills = one member in very firm standing.  And girls…do you have a little Tiger in you?

I need to shave, put on a skirt, and head out to obtain a minimum wage job at the local all night flap jack joint and wait for the call of the wild.

Silly Hat Day Goes Unnoticed at Afghani Parliament

Silly Hat Day Goes Unnoticed at Afghani Parliament

Kabul, Afghanistan—Members of the Afghani government are becoming increasingly frustrated with the recent string of President Hamid Karzai’s poorly conceived morale-boosting events.

“I wore my biggest and my silliest turban on silly hat day,” said a disgusted Hassan Rahimi.  “Granted, it’s not much bigger or sillier than any of my other turbans, but I thought there would at least be prizes or something.”

“Karzai completely ignored my suggestion that we have a lottery and then stone to death whoever picks the lucky ticket,” said another Hassan Rahimi.  “The man ignores the classics!”

“His casual burkha day really sucked,” added Abdul Haq of Kandahar. “And don’t even get me started on dunk a Mullah Monday.”

“Mistakes have been made,” admitted President Karzai.  “I didn’t think I had to specify no IEDs during the lunchroom obstacle course, but live and burn.”

The politically embattled president went on to say, “My country still needs something that will unite the Afghani people behind a common cause, like maybe a good pie fight.  If anyone has any ideas, please email me…preferably before Wednesday, which is kiss a camel hump day. I’m really worried about that.”

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Dear Ghetto Shaman,

During your last sweat lodge retreat Sex Sauna Sunday, you told the survivors that you never forget a face, because you have the memory of a hippopotamus.  Didn’t you mean the memory of an elephant?

Stephanie

Mechanicsburg, PA

Dear Stephanie,

Whatever… But anyway, glad you made it, kid.  You are a true warrior.  Now don’t forget my workshop next Thursday: Discover Your Gifts and Abilities at the Expense of Others.

The Ghetto Shaman

Reid Walks on the Wild Side, Steps in Shit

Pierce Winslow

Harry Reid really stepped in it now, but into what did he step? A pile of Republican bullshit, by the looks of it. Senator Reid was quoted in some expose-esque work as saying that America was ready for a “light-skinned” African-American president with “no Negro dialect, unless he wanted to have one.” Soooo, where did he call Obama anything racist? Is Obama not African American? Is he not light-skinned? Does he not have Negro Dialect only when he wants one? I’m not saying this is the best choice of words, mind you, but calling for Reid’s resignation? Please… Can’t we throw him out of office on his own merits?

Apparently now you can’t call someone what they are even using semi-politically correct phrasing. What would happen if someone called him a Muslim? Oh, never mind…

It seems to me that Reid wasn’t attempting to make any statement about Obama at all. Senator Reid was evaluating the mood of the American voter – accurately I might add. The American Voter is ready for {the 27 eight by ten color glossy pictures with circles and arrows…}. Yes, Obama fits the description, and hence the American people are ready for him. Where is the degradation here? America was ready for a light-skinned African-American president with no Negro dialect, unless he wanted to have one. There I said it too, gonna fire me for it? Well, you can’t, because I’m the CEO. So get back to work, bitches!

And if he had said that America was not ready for a dark-skinned African American with a thick Negro dialect, he probably would have been right then too. Do you really think that some boy from the hood, fluent in ebonics, would have lasted through a single debate? I can see it now…

Mr Gibson: Mr. Obama, how would you resurrect the starving economy?

Mr. Obama: Yo Homey, looky heya. We gotsa get mo niggas grindin’ time ‘n’ stackin’ cheese, y’know wha om sayin’?. Too many brothas is keepin’ it real, y’know? Dasa jackin’ me up ma bizzle.

Mr. Gibson: How would you resolve the war on terror?

Mr. Obama: We gotsa grit on these Al Quaeda motha fuckas. Bump dat Iraqi bull-turkey jive, bitch. Bust a cap on Bin Ladin’s ass, ya know? Really ball up that mutha fucka. We gotsa be bumpin’ uglies in Afghanistan, White Bread.

Somehow I don’t think that a performance like that would have had quite the same outcome. Now I suppose everyone out there is going to start calling me a racist. Saying these things does not make me a racist; it makes me a realist. Can you really see Miss Polly Purebread from Morman, UT going into the voting booth and flipping the lever for Snoop Dog? Me neither, racist.

The Republicans could really have used someone with the kind of insight shown by Senator Reid back in ‘08. Who was the dumb mother fucker that said “America is ready for a hot MILF that can’t express a coherent thought and thinks that Saddam Hussein is responsible for 9/11”? Now there’s a guy that should have lost his job. Oh, right… And if they nominate that bitch from Moosefucker, AK next election someone needs to lose more than his job.

Now you want to talk about real political incorrectness? This is how my staff wanted to cover the story…

Harry Reid Sets the Record Straight
Harry Reid Sets the Record Straight..."Sorry, I meant nigger."
"Sorry, I meant nigger."

…now that’s degradation. I don’t know what to do with these guys. They’re out of control. Luckily, I won’t stand for such things as head of the moral beacon that is the Daily Discord.

Gallagher’s Autobiography Melonoma Moments Hammered by Critics

Gallagher’s Autobiography Melonoma Moments Hammered by Critics

After unsuccessfully suing the band Smashing Pumpkins for plagiarism, comedian Leo Gallagher has now set his sights on some much-needed book revenue.  Apparently in 1974, Gallagher tried to liven-up his act by hitting a member of his audience with a large sledge hammer.  This did not have the desired effect.  After his release from a West Hollywood jail, Gallagher felt more determined than ever to smash something with something else and earn his place in comedic history.  After his parole ended, Gallagher destroyed his apartment amidst a dark period known as his ‘pre-melonic phase’.  Inspired before a show in Anaheim, he decided to hit an uncooked turkey with a large medieval mace. Few people enjoyed the act, however, and one couple from Pasadena contracted salmonella.  Despite these setbacks, Gallagher knew he was onto something (besides antibiotics).

“Then one day it just hit me,” said Gallagher, “…like a sledgehammer to a watermelon.”  History was made that day and then splattered across a great many a venue.

Law enforcement officials have indefinitely suspended all of Gallagher’s book signings since last week’s ‘incident’ when an Oceanside man mistakenly dressed as a melon for the event. The fan died outside of a San Diego Barnes & Noble due to severe head trauma. 

The Crotch Bomber Kid

Alex Bone

How dare Al-Qaeda! What despicable levels won’t these pricks stoop to, to take a young impressionable kid from Nigeria and send him to Detroit? The Monsters! Talk about Out of Africa… Luckily, the terrorist’s attempt at ruining the holidays turned into one of the best Christmas presents for America, ever.  They gave us the gift of comedy.  The whole event left more than a few people scratching their heads, or was it their crotches?

Who exactly is this big-eyed, close-mouthed twerp that many are now calling the Crotch Bomber Kid (CBK)? How desperate is Al-Qaeda getting when the best they can muster is to con some fruit of the loom to assail us with his dysfunctional Underoos?  Talk about “Weapons of Ass Destruction”. What are they going to send at us next year, orphans using anthrax as talcum powder, or an army of Tiny Tims with exploding crutches?  Have a holy jolly jihad.

It seems quite obvious that the CBK is more than a little slow upstairs, not to mention a little crispy downstairs. What sort of message do they expect this will convey? And you thought we looked incompetent?  How are they going to spin this one?  Well, don’t worry fellow martyrs; he’ll still get 72 Virgin Airways frequent flier miles in the afterlife. Great PR move. I can see it now: “Are you an idiot?  Are you easily impressionable?  Are you stupid enough to believe in Al-Qeada’s cause? You too can join Jerry’s Jihadists today!”

Most likely, they expected him to go up in flames with his hot pants, leaving the world ignorant as to the real CBK. But, luckily for some rough and tumble passengers, that plan is as history as the Qaeda Kid’s sex drive.

Yet another upside of this whole Great Balls Of Fire event is this: the conservatives over at Homeland Security and the anti-child porn lobbyists, two groups usually on the same side, are now at each other’s throats over the idea of airports X-raying through our clothing. But screening even children might be a good idea, since terrorists are now touring grade schools with large boxes of candy for their recruitment campaigns.

As for the Crotch Bomber Kid, the supervisors over at Guantanamo Bay are already busy at work constructing a new Special Ed wing. And, in a rare fit of insight, they are preparing to get a jump on Al-Qaeda by drawing up plans for a children’s wing, a dementia wing, and a smart primate wing (SPW). That’ll add a few more jobs to Obama’s stimulus package.

Think of all the good that came from this nearly tragic event…  Our intelligence agencies are finally going to start working together *snicker*.  All the great jokes banding about the media. And, hey, as an exhibitionist, I can’t wait to try out one of those new airport scanners.  I think I’m going to get a one-way ticket to DC with a wad of cash, no luggage, and one of those trench coats.  But do you think a false mustache is over the top?  Be honest.

The Libranos

The Libranos

Senator Nelson (NE) released this stunning conversation on the eve of the healthcare vote.  Our technical crew worked diligently to bring you the transcript version of this important audio:

Senator Nelson: “Mr. Rezko, Rahm, David…to what do I owe the honor?”

Tony Rezko: “Hayadooin Senator.  We need to come to some sort of understanding on the Healthcare bill. I’m of the impression that youse may be a ‘no’ vote.”

Senator Nelson: “Well guys, there are problems with—”

Tony Rezko: “Bennie, Bennie, It’s of da highest import dat youse vote ‘yes’ on dis here bill.”

Senator Nelson: “Bu-bu-but guys, I really got problems with—”

Tony Rezko: “Listen, if ya don’t go the way we needs ya ta go, youse got real problems.  I know youse guys got dis here Air Force base, uh wutisit, Offortt Sumtin? Now it sure would be a shame if sumtin wuz ta happin to dis here Base, wouldn’t it?”    

Senator Nelson: “What could happen to an Air Force Base?”

(inaudible)

Senator Nelson: “You wouldn’t…”

Tony Rezko: “Just tink of da ten tousand poor Nebraskans widout a job. Dat would be a terrible ting.”

Senator Nelson: “You’d put the safety of the country at risk and put thousands of people out of work?”

Tony Rezko: “Safety of the country?  You tink we care about dat?  Two words, Bennie Boy, Janet Napolatano.  But enough talk. Rahm, David…bend some Geneva Conventions around this guy’s neck.”

(Sound of water running. Garble, garble, cough, sputter. Inaudible.)

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Dear Ghetto Shaman,

I have recently read Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now and I am having a hard time staying in the ever present now.  My chattering mind and my battling ego seem to always be working against me.  Any suggestions on how to improve my meditation skills?

Tara

Eugene, OR

Dear Tara,

You should dump Tolle. I am a greater bridge to all non-dual states, or a Tolle bridge, if you will.  Try my own antithesis to his mindfulness banter: Anti-Zen Living in the Then: Harnessing the Power of Anxiety.  You too can worry your way to Nirvana with my 47 session CD Angst Kit (AK47).  Just the price tag alone will start you on your way to accessing the many higher-states of distress. 

As seen on Jitter and Pacebook.

The Ghetto Shaman

The Great Crank Hunter

The Crank

As for those Gitmo specials, some say we should bring them here and try them in civilian courts. Riiiiiighttt… Eric Holder’s announcement the 911 masterminds were coming to NY ranks up there as one of the most boneheaded moves of the decade (and that’s saying something). We could put them in a cell next to the crotch bomber, eh?  Others say, let ’em rot in Gitmo. But they will “rot” at a per-person cost to us greater than NASAs next ten attempts to blow up the friggin moon. Why should we pay for them to live in relative comfort, as compared to the damn sand holes they came from? Still others say, let a Military Tribunal take care of them. They had six years to do that and, so far, nada.  So I have better idea.  Two words…Hunting Reserves.

Now hear me out on this…because I think we are all missing the boat, as it were. Texas has a lot of land, and they have a lot of guns, and they happen to have a surplus of people on that land, who like to shoot those guns.  Let us also say that the state of Texas probably doesn’t harbor any deep-seeded affection for enemy combatants.  I say let the government buy up some ten-thousand acres of prime Texas hill country, release their asses, and tell them if they aren’t killed in 48 hours, they can go home.

My plan will give us all a thrill (even better than the one going up and down Chris Mathew’s leg) all the while it’s paying down the deficit!  Just think of it.  Can you hear the guns, Fernando?  I can.  We will simply let guys like the Motor City Madman hisself, Ted Nugent, pay BIG bucks to hunt them down with either rifles or, for the true adventurist, bow & arrow style.  You can pretend you’re Legolas from the frigging Middle Earth for all I care (although, dressing up enemy combatants like Orcs will run you extra).  Heck, you can have any theme you want: Dick Tracy villains, Batman villains, liberal villains…whatever floats your boat. Or, just give’em all day-glow orange turbans hot-glued to their noggins, and let the hunt begin.

Think about the money you could bring in if it was all nationally televised! This could bring together the best aspects of American Idol and Nascar all rolled up into one Uhmuhricun, larger than life, experience…and, er, larger than death.  Also, we would have very realistic Taliban tracking (VRTT) for our military recruits.  Hey wait, there could be wagering in Vegas on who would last the longest.  Isn’t Vegas still hurting about now?  (no matter how many times Zano seems to frequent the place.) 

We could call it the Towel Race 2000 or something. This plan would be a boon for the somewhat forsaken Texan desert cities. There could be phone lines from all America letting us choose the artifact of bodily injury that would be used on, said ‘contestant.’  Let’s not forget sponsorships? I can see it now, some fat assed southern hunter wearing his best “Remington” and “Winchester” logo gear. Let’s get the populace involved in the judicial process and help boost the economy at the same time.  It will help the heartland keep their minds off reality. It worked for the Romans for nearly ten centuries, and it can work now.

I realize there is one hang up—some of these folks were admittedly picked up wrongly….hmmmm.  Maybe just implement some form of slightly less violent “Wack-A-Turban” for dat bunch.  We could still make some cash, is all I’m saying.

And, if some libertard group starts a PETA group, the People for the Ethical Treatment of Al-Qaeda—lookie here, boys, we have more, said ‘contestants.’

Just a Thought

The Crank

Hey, Bed, Bath & Beyond Bull Shit, Stick that Ergonomic Gravy-Separator Up Yer…

Mick Zano

Prior to this year’s Thanksgiving feast, my sister sent me out into the wilds of Phoenix to retrieve something called a gravy separator. She typically chooses a “special job” that matches my talents (aka: a job that even I can’t screw up).  There is long history here of bringing back the wrong cooking sherry, the wrong cranberry sauce, or the wrong homeless person that I met at the bar on the way over.  She obviously decided to throw care into the wind this year by sending me to a large kitchen store.  This was clearly above my pay grade. It was not some recent increase in confidence, mind you, for the ‘just pick up some ice’ fiasco was still fresh on her mind (ice also has a drug slang connotation).   

I thought “hey, I’m going to learn something today about the alchemical mysteries behind separating gravy from gravy fat.  Maybe they’ll even have a demonstration!”

I also thought to myself, five bucks and about fifteen minutes later, I’d be back talking turkey. 

I thought wrong…

Amidst my endless quest for this bizarre kitchen aid, I half expected Rod Serling to step out from behind the food processors and say something like, “A man on his way to Thanksgiving dinner is now on the menu in one of the darker corners of The Kitchen Zone.”  But, there was a no smoking policy, so they would have probably kicked him out.  Anyway, a half an hour of browsing and fifteen dollars later, I had this unholy thing in my handa contraption that allegedly separates gravy from gravy fat.  

Do you realize how many Breckenridge Oatmeal Stouts I could have picked up for fifteen bucks?  Next time, I get the beer and take my chances with the turkey fat.  I will also never get back that awful thirty-minutes wandering aimlessly around this store with utensils literally reaching to the top of their twenty-foot ceiling. 

“No, no, sir, I want the ladle to the right.  Six rows up.”  

“What do you mean, you have to get the forklift?  I want the ladle not the fork!”

I just wanted the cheapest gravy separator, but they only carried one type.  As I came to find out later, it’s the only gravy separator in the Valley of the Sun.  So you mean the only gravy separator in the greater Phoenix area is a fifteen dollar version, which just happens to be ergonomically correct?  It has a rubberized and user-friendly shaped-handle that aids the lifter, protecting their delicate wrists from the unnecessary wear and tear of the lifting process.  What!?!  Are you friggin kidding me?!  If you use a gravy separator enough times to need it to be ergonomically correct, carpal tunnel is the least of your problems! 

Then I studied this thing that I’m about to purchase for the low, low price of 12 Breckenridge Oatmeal Stouts over at the beer distributor (I’m really trying to put this in perspective for some of you folks).  OK…so I’m reading more about this thing.  The kitchen gods have peaked my curiosity.  It is simply a device that has a spout at the bottom, instead of the top, so the lighter fat will not come out until last.  It’s not stopping the fat from coming out, mind you, it’s just taking one year off the cardiac life of the last unlucky soul to use this thing. 

Sooooo, it’s really not separating anything.  Separating is this: girls in the west dorm and boys in the east dorm and there are vigilant nuns, teachers, or security guards between the two (usually armed to the teeth).  I managed anyway.

So the person going back for thirds, the person with the most fragile arteries, is the one being put at the most risk by this thing?  No batteries, no bells and no whistles? For fifteen-dollars a damn siren should go off when you reach a certain predetermined fat-to-gravy index.  But no, nothing…hey, but my wrists feel great!  

So I left Bed, Bath & Beyond Bull Shit and I returned to my holiday feast victorious.  My sister was impressed with my work and she hardly complained about the short, malodorous person I invited on the way over.  I toasted this new fangled gadget with my new found friend and chugged that gravy fat like a Valhalla Viking on ‘roids and, yes, I had picked up the extra beer anyway…just to show ‘em.  You see, beer cuts cholesterol better than any bottom-spouted, ergonomically correct, kitchen-aid bullshit thingy any day.

Happy Holidays!  Now, if you will excuse me, I’m having chest pains…

Napolitano Finds No Evidence of Her Own Competence

Napolitano Finds No Evidence of Her Own Competence

Washington, DC – Homeland Security Chief, Janet Napolitano, has unveiled her airline screening plan to have passengers tuck their shoes under one armpit while twirling their underwear on the alternate fingers.

“The frequently incontinent will not stand for this,” warned activist Dribbly McSkidmarck.

When asked about the recent intelligence failures, Napolitano said, “Look, we can’t stop every known terrorist who wants to bring explosives onto a plane.  But what we can do is continue to make everyone miserable who tries to board with bottled water.”

When reminded how the passengers on the Detroit flight actually used water to put out the fire, Napolitano said, “Sure, in this case, but usually water is highly unstable.”     

Rather than playing the blame game, Napolitano is calling for a full investigation into her own competence.

CIA Director Leon Panetta suggested, “Maybe it [her competence] just fell behind the couch.”

FBI Director Robert Mueller immediately countered, “Of course, we checked behind the couch, dipshit. I guess we ‘forgot’ to tell you guys.”

The House Intelligence Committee believes her competence may have snuck over the Mexican border while she was still governor of AZ.

Unhappy with any of the explanations, Napolitano said, “I am raising the national threat level to one of those other colors, until some idea of my relative competence can be ascertained.”

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Dear Ghetto Shaman,

I am wondering about the significance of a personal vision quest as it relates to the greater shamanic tradition.

Ralph

Sioux City, IA

Dear Ralph,

I think Vision Quest is that eyeglass place where you can get your prescription lenses back within an hour.

The Ghetto Shaman

John + Kate + 8 + Psychotic Bimbo – John – $230K – Show + Burglary = Who Gives a Flying Fuck?

John + Kate + 8 + Psychotic Bimbo - John - $230K – Show + Burglary = Who Gives a Flying Fuck?
Pierce Winslow

If you had any doubt that America is on the bullet-train to Shitville, just take a gander at this whole John & Kate calamity. Honestly, why are we still talking about this? Why were we in the first place? Why is it still splattered all over the news, and, in particular, all over my TV? Why the fuck do I have to write this article?

Unless you’ve been living with Bin Laden in an Afghan cave (or Pakistani cave, but that’s another story), you have been inundated with way too many details about the breakup of John & Kate Gosselin and the subsequent cancellation of their so-called reality show John & Kate Plus Eight. This was a show supposedly about how two parents deal with their newly arrived eight children, the product of fertility treatments gone awry. The only reality of the show is this: people watch this crap to see Kate berate and emasculate John on national television every week. No surprise that John got sick of the public humiliation, the getting stuck with the eight while Kate jets all over the country for speaking engagements and book signings, and being put on public display to further Kate’s career. It’s no surprise that there was some celebrity-seeking twit in the wings that would actually want to get in the middle of this disaster and that John would go for that shit. It’s also no surprise that since he bailed the show has been canceled because no one gives two shits about the Eight, it was always about the public humiliation.

The thing that gets me is why, since they are broken up, and their show was canceled, are we still hearing about this? Since the show was canceled these two sub moronic media whores are getting more face-time and publicity than ever before. And, why? Because Americans are crack-whores for this crap. I would rather join Zano for his next Hannitython than hear one more word about these numbskulls.

Kate, media whore #1, is a woman that takes lens-sucking to a whole new level. While touting the greatness of their “reality” show, she will fly all over the continent promoting herself as the end-all, be-all of American housewives. If she’s such a great housewife, how come she is never at home? Oh that’s right, those eight screaming kids. I think she forgot the first half of that word: house. And in doing so, she has also forgotten the second part: wife. I guess that leaves us with “end all, be-all of American *nothing*”. Now that’s something I can reach my brother. And I’m not even sure that she’s the worst of the three.

John, media whore #2. Here is a “man” that is so in need of an ego boost that he, on a weekly basis, will have his ego methodically dismantled on national television to get it. It seems to me that if you get a 10% boost from having your ego 90% shot to hell that’s a net loss of 80%, every week, you dumbass. Most people would run out after one week, but he just keeps coming back for more. On top of that, he will bitch about how whore #1 is using their children to further her career while he simultaneously eats the corn out of her shit in order to get her to take him back so they can continue their assault on American television audiences (and collect the ensuing paychecks, “for the children” of course). I want to see this guy in the ring with Colbert; or maybe a komodo dragon; swine flu? And if whore #1 is using their children for nefarious purposes, what is he doing? Oh that’s right, secretly withdrawing $230k from their bank account.

Psychotic Bimbo, whore #3. Who is this bitch anyway? What self-respecting human being would want to come anywhere near this shit-storm unless all they wanted was to become a part of it? Happily our hero dumped her, which should have gotten at least her out of our lives. But no, she has to break into his crib and slash his clothing and furniture, rip off some of his stuff, and leave a threatening note. Nothing says class like a “die mother fucker” note with a meat-cleaver sticking through it. And, of course, she’s saying she had nothing to do with it, that it is a publicity stunt on his part. News flash: all three of your lives are one huge publicity stunt. No matter which one of you did it, it was a publicity stunt. And, unfortunately, you all will profit from it I’m sure.

And if their lives aren’t all about publicity then why are all of their conversations through spokesmen with press releases? Do those people ever speak without a camera around? Of course, they do, to plot out the next nugget of stupidity to spew from their lives in order to keep everyone talking about them. Do they do this on NetMeeting or something?

So why do we, as a society, perpetuate this shit flow? People always talk about what an abomination gay marriage is; have you ever seen a greater abomination than this? Who are we kidding? Why do Americans feel the need to be voyeurs into these losers’ lives? Can you say “soap opera”? This ain’t “reality”. And I will smack the head of anyone that says “you can’t make this shit up”. Are you paying attention? This is all made up. Even the kids came from a test-tube. Did you see that Balloon Boy fiasco? At least someone is going to jail for that one.

And where are the Eight through all of this? Remember the Eight? This is a show about the Eight. But, like Alice’s Restaurant, it never was about the Eight, it was a commentary on war, this time the war on common decency. Can’t we just draft these fuckers and send them to Afghanistan (Pakistan?)? That oughtta smoke Bin Laden out of his hole.

PS, if you don’t think this is all a publicity stunt, do a Google image search on “John & Kate Plus 8”; I dare you.