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 9^th 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 .

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.

Coupon Code:  FreakSafari

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Carlos Mencia wrote a screenplay about an interracial marriage.  Ohhhhh this is going to be so zany because cultural clashes are always funny and stuff!  It revolves around the parents of an engaged couple to plan the wedding…who ultimately must put aside their differences and realize that their children are truly in love.

Because I rule, I got a copy of his script.  Here’s a few excerpts:

Really good, huh?  I’d post more, but then I realized he just copied “My Big Fat Greek Wedding’s,” script and just added a lot more eses, pacos, tacos, and quieros.

I’m adding a new function on Freak Safari called “Freak of the Day.” If I learned one thing about this place, it’s that we have a decent ability to find the most warped shit on the internet…it would be nice to have a catalogue of that stuff, hence me creating this part of the site.

It will get updated every day by one of the many writers we have doing it. You can post there without registering. Depending on how efficient we are, we might do multiple updates per day. Check back daily and see.

First up:

No shit (or maybe yes shit?): MOM INJECTS TODDLER WITH HIS OWN FECES

My letter worked!

So, as a thank you to Fair to Midland, I have used all my powers (and slaves) to create this very snazzy picture of the band literally saving the world.  I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for your music and kicking ass:

Business as usual it seems...

 For the full resolution picture, click the following link (it’s huge.):

http://freaksafari.com/wp-content/uploads/fairtomidland_complete.jpg

Fair to Midland is a band.  No wait.  Fair to Midland is an aural essence that makes the universe good.  If the world were to end in 2012 like the Mayans predict, Fair to Midland would be the group of people to stop that.  And by people I mean the lions that form Voltron because I bet they have robotic lions stashed away somewhere.  Basically what I’m saying is that Fair to Midland is more important than what you think is important.  Oh your kid has diabetes?  Your baby was born without a face?  Not important.  Besides, if your kid grew up having any kind of taste, his face would be rocked off by this band anyway.  Your poor genetics just saved them the trouble.

The crux of this problem is that I haven’t heard any new music from them in a long time.  I have listened to Fables From a Mayfly, Inter.Funda.Stifle, Carbon Copy Silver Lining, Drawn and Quartered, and even some site that has really old stuff by them, thousands of times.  It’s not enough.  I’m addicted, and I’m taking it upon myself to write this very non-psychotic letter to them, asking for them to give me new music soon before I go absolutely crazy and need some kind of musical methadone.

My liege(s),

Your music is the best thing that has ever touched a human’s sense of sound.  Every time I hear your music, I feel like I was touched by Jesus.  Appropriately touched.  Not pedo-touched like the Catholic Jesus who lures children to his van with girl scout cookies and Smarties.

I am writing to ask beg you for new music soon.  I am going through a musical withdrawal, and I hate feeling like a heroin-addict.  It makes me feel really dirty, and also lame because if I have to go through some kind of program, I’m going to feel like an asshole saying “I’m addicted to Fair to Midland” while some guy without teeth talks about his problems with meth.  All I’m asking is that you don’t make me do that. 

I don’t want to talk to meth heads!

Another thing, I noticed you all have never been to the east coast, specifically New Jersey.  Now, while I firmly believe you all have the power to combat intergalactic space/time travel, you may have forgotten all about the east coast.  So I’m drawing you a map of where it is in conjunction to where you are:

I hope this helps.

If the reason you haven’t been to New Jersey is because of the media’s portrayal of it, that’s not a problem.  I am a strong man and will fight off any of those oily guidos who try to talk to or infect you.  If they even look at you wrong, I will cut off their back hair (which is the source of any Italian’s strength.)  If you are afraid of some kind of lung disease, I will get you gas masks.  I will even buy them in Pennsylvania so they weren’t touched by any of New Jersey’s tainted atoms.  I hear that Darroh likes to pee in water bottles.  Well, I will get you bigger and better water bottles to pee in!

I will construct bubbles or plastic cages…like the ones they give to the pope if you’re afraid of any kind of mugging, beating, shooting, and/or raping by the East Coast’s seedy underbelly.  If you need whores, but don’t want an STD from a New Jersey whore, I will import whores from anywhere you wish.  (Please let me know in advance on this, because I bet I can get like a group discount or something.)

Please.  I am not dying or anything…but if it comes down to it, I will lie in a room of radon and asbestos so I develop cancer so the Make A Wish Foundation comes knocking on your door and gets you to play for me.

I hope this letter finds you well, and thank you for saving our universe.

Sincerely,
Swimfan
…errrr IamRob

There.  Not psychotic at all.  Now we play the waiting game.

I know that reality isn’t this country’s forte, but one thing should be noted:

People in the Special Olympics do suck at sports and events.  If they didn’t, they could participate in the regular Olympics.

I couldn't find a picture of a retarded kid...so I used a picture of Thom Yorke and his wonky eye instead.

It isn’t rocket science.  That extra chromosome does makes you suck at sports.  Hell, I don’t have Downs Syndrome or anything and my highest score in bowling is an 88.  I’m so bad at bowling that I’ve managed to get a gutter ball with bumpers.  Twice.  I have no problem comparing my bowling skills to a disabled person’s.  I’m probably actually worse than they are.  It’s an honor to be linked in with them sometimes because I know how much I suck at bowling.  So why is it such a big deal to be lumped in with a different group of people? 

I see all of these pro-special education organizations bitching about how wonderful those kids are.  I was watching this one guy saying how “amazing” they all are.  I don’t really understand what makes them more amazing or special than me.  There’s a double standard when it comes to the treatment of people.  On one hand, they should be treated like regular people, and on the other, they get praised when they can draw a circle without 90 degree angles by the same people who bitch about how they aren’t being treated equally.  Pick one and go with it; you can’t have both.

Want to know why I’m really annoyed?  It’s because I SHOULD be considered retarded.  When I was in kindergarten, they wanted to hold me back because I didn’t draw fingers on people, despite the fact that I could read.  Yet if some kid with DS drew the same picture, he’d get free Chicken McNuggets and a really cool crown made out of cardboard.  What the hell?  If you’ve read my sex guide, you’d know I suck at drawing.  But if I did that in school and had some weird disease, I’d be getting cupcakes for it.  Bull.  Shit.  Give ME the cardboard hat.  I can do everything they can do just as well, and sometimes better.

So to all you jerks who are bitching about Obama saying that he bowls as well as the people in the Special Olympics, fuck off.  I bowl way worse than those kids do, and I’m not even considered retarded.  I bowl worse than the kids in the Special Olympics.  Does that make me offensive or a bad person?  No.  It makes me a really shitty bowler and laughably pathetic.