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Fuck the Yankees.  Fuck them in their stupid asses.  Fuck all you Yankees fans.  You make the world a far shittier place with your dreary miserable self-righteous selves plaguing this world like a fucking genital wart on an otherwise noble schoolgirl.

So I had this exchange today:

Him: “I wanna punch Phillies fans in the face”

Me:  “HAHAHA Your teams sucks.”

Him: “yeah we sucked last night”

Wait.  “We.”  Are you a part of the team now?  You, Gary, you overweight moron who can barely walk up a flight of steps without choking on your phlegm?  You sucked last night?  You were in the field last night pitching like a hydrocephalic retard with cerebral palsy?  Or were you the one who showed off his stuff by scoring the only point in the 9th inning?  That was you?  I think you had nothing to do with that.  I think you just ate a bunch of Snicker bars and buffalo wings.  I think you should go fuck yourself.

That’s the thing with all of these Yankees fans.  They take credit for shit they have nothing to do with.  You dressed like a 12 year old little leaguer in your 12×12 living room isn’t going to suddenly make the team play any better or worse.  All it does it make you look like a douchebag when you tell people about it.  That’s the true comedy here.  Yeah, you’re an annoying asshat totally deprived of the most basic aspects of self-reflection, the funny is in the fact that you can’t acknowledge it.

“I’m a Yankees fan. Part of the Yankee nation. Fans support the team. We’re all in it together.”

I swear on my life this was said to me.

What does that even mean?  Yankee nation?  Shut the fuck up.  Every Yankees fan talks like this; it’s as if they truly feel they’re a part of that overpaid shithole of a team.  I mean if this were some kind of elaborate joke, then that would be one thing.  But these idiots are 100% sincere.  They’re like these mindless drones who can’t think outside the collective thought.

So fuck Yankees fans.  Fuck them hard.  They’re all idiot mouth breathers who should be shot on sight.  IF you disagree with me, you’re wrong .

Popularity: 14%

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“Did you know that poison ivy and poison oak are part of the cashew family!?”

There’s only so much of this bullshit I can take.

Ever have a friend…  Wait, scratch that, nobody could be a friend to this kind of person.  Let me start over:

Ever know someone who interjects random bits of trivia into every conversation?  You could be talking from anything ranging from politics to the size of Lady Gaga’s penisgina, and they’ll throw some kind of random trivia into the equation to make them seem smart?  If you’re one of those people, rape yourself with a brick.  I want to have a conversation about Lady Gaga’s penisgina.  Will you please let me do this?  If your random stupid Snapple fun fact were interesting, we’d talk about it.  Until then, fuck off.

There’s this person I know who always has to have a say in a conversation that doesn’t involve him.  I use “him” loosely because he sort of resembles a pale pumpkin more than a person.

Everytime a person talks about something, this pale idiot would say something completely off topic in the loudest most obnoxious shrill of a voice ever.

“I disagree with some of the Obama’s healthcare reform policies.  I just think that…

“DID YOU KNOW THAT ANTIBACTERIAL SPRAY WON’T HAVE ANY EFFECT ON THE SWINE FLU BECAUSE IT’S A VIRUS!!?  THOSE PEOPLE WASHING THEIR HANDS ARE IDIOTS!!”

“…”

“…uh huh.”

I know this makes me sound like an old crotchety man, and in many ways I am.  But for fuck’s sake, can’t you at least tell when you’re not interesting?  Are you that void of the most basic aspects of self-reflection that you cannot even entertain the thought that you as a person are duller than an amputee’s arm nub?  You know what?  Cut your arm off.  THAT will make you interesting.  I will drop any conversation I’m in if you tell me the story about your arm nub.  That’s worth cutting into a conversation.  Not your stupid fun facts about dolphins.  Tell me the story about the time you nub fucked a 90 year old corpse pussy.  That will turn heads.  You explaining what sine and cosine are won’t.

Be interesting or shut the fuck up.  I’m already in a shitty conversation about Obama’s healthcare reform; I don’t need to know about your crazy happenings while you and your zany friends spent Friday playing Monopoly.

Popularity: 18%

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Just for today only, I’m knocking off 5 bucks on ALL shirts.

Coupon Code:  FreakSafari

www.shirtgenius.com

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By IamRob
Illustrations by Ken
When we first left off, as Ferguson was saying
With a big happy grin, “I found my boo crayin!”

A day in the life of Ferguson is unique.
Like a flower or snowflake, he can barely speak.
But it’s not in his voice where the lessons come through.
It’s through his own actions. Like Moses, times two.

One summer morning, Ferguson woke up with glee,
Again finding his bed sheets covered in pee.

“I make me breakfast!” He walks to the refrigerator
Hoping to find some cereal and kitty litter for later.
As he looks for his snack, the door slams shut,
Leaving poor Ferguson alone in a rut.

He goes into the magical refrigerator, a bit confused,
But determined to return home. Even bloody and bruised.
“I want to play a game,” is the next thing he hears.
“I wuv games. Jenga! Jenga! Jenga!”

“You must saw off your leg for freedom” the voice says with a sneer.
“Okay!” Ferguson saws without a shred of fear.
“Wait, it wasn’t supposed to be that easy!” Jigsaw angrily spasms.
“Jenga! Jenga! Jenga!” Ferguson says with enthusiasm.

He opens the door, and lo and behold,
He’s in the shower scene from Psycho.
“Noooo, me no want shower” he screams in a panic,
While Norman Bates cuts him all frantic.

He goes back to the refrigerator to escape the gloom,
And finds himself on the bridge in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

“WINDIANA HONES!” Ferguson screams with excitement, so much so he poos himself.

“Shortround, please push him off the bridge.”
“Okee Dokee Dokta Jones!”
As Ferguson descends to the river below,
He notices alligators watching the show.

“Owwwwwwwwwww!” The alligator bites off his hand.
He says, “That hurt, stupid owl,” as he walks onto land.
Back into the magical refrigerator he goes.
Where he’ll wind up, nobody knows!

“Yay, a wode!” As Ferguson appears,
He walks to a toll booth that’s coincidentally near.
And just like that, without a shred of tone,
Some gangsters mistook Ferguson for Sonny Corleone.

He crawls to the refrigerator, disappointedly humming,
Finding out that no game of Jenga is coming.

The next thing he hears is a voice from above.
It’s his mother. He’s home. He pees in his pants out of love.
And after all of this time, patiently waiting,
Lies a game of Jenga, ready for playing.

~fin~

Popularity: 53%

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Shirt Genius Launched!

June 1, 2009 | Comments |

One of the projects I’ve been working on launched today.  Here it is:

www.shirtgenius.com

Shirt Genius:  A site where you can buy clothes that cures AIDS, Cancer, and lopsided boobies.  Try it.

Post a good tagline in the comments and win a free shirt.

Popularity: 94%

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