Super-Villain Style

Originally Posted at LTMFK

I was talking politics with some dudes during lunch. I reiterated some dumb shit I wrote here recently, about how I thought the Palestinians should get back some of that “stolen” land. The Jew in the group immediately called me an anti-Semite, like most Jews do. And we went on ripping on each other’s cultures and shit. I talked about his Yarmulke-wearing, matzah ball-eating relatives. He talked about my corn bread, collar green, fried chicken-eating ancestors.

By the way, chicken is good. I don’t give a fuck. I love chicken. My black, big lipped, rap music loving ass loves him some chicken. I ain’t for the watermelon. But I can eat me some chicken. Now if that makes me a Sambo, shuck and jiving ass Negro, then that’s just what I am. I don’t give a fuck.

Anyway. Getting back to the crap. The shit ended with him walking away from the group like the little beyotch he is. And, of course, like most racists, I felt greatly superior for standing up to the Jew. The thing is, I initially took the argument pretty lightly. I honestly didn’t feel like it was that big of a deal. But certain shit that he said kept coming back on me over and over again. I just couldn’t let shit go.

It hit me that the little bastard had subtly called me a liar several times. He hinted that I was nothing more than some Ghetto trash, when he kept comparing my family to a group of squirrels, or tree rats as some people call them. And he made disparaging remarks about my appearance, focusing on my slight beer belly (I love you, navels). He topped it off by saying that I was an underachieving son of a beyotch.

And the truth is, I’ve said filthier shit about my family and myself. But hearing this shit from him, for some reason, seemed to really piss me the fuck off. Who the fuck did this white boy think he was? I could have beat the shit out of him with both hands tied behind my back. I’ve stomped the shit out of people who’ve said worser to me. And I let this little pussy ass prick get away with murder. I took that shit with a smile on my fuckin’ face like some fuckin’ retard. Sickening!

Beyotch had the nerve to get mad because I couldn’t give a shit about Israel, piece of dirt filled dookey hell. Fuck Israel. Fuck the land. Fuck the people. Fuck the muthafuckin religion. Now, does that shit make me a racist? If it does, then I don’t give a fuck. I’m a racist.

There. I said it. I’m a fuckin’ racist. I can’t stand white people. There. You happy. And that’s just too fuckin’ bad for the Jews in the group. Because, as we all know, a Jew ain’t nothing but a white dude that other white dudes hate. That’s what Jew means. Look that shit up in the dictionary. I ain’t lying.

Dude thinks he gets a pass because he’s Jewish. A Jew could give a shit about a black man. Talking that dumb shit like we’re in the same boat. There ain’t no same boat. I don’t give a fuck who you are, black, Jew, Latino, woman, Asian. It don’t matter. We’re all persecuted. But we all ain’t in the same boat.

It’s like that shit with those racist stamps down in Mexico. Up north, we’re supposed to be all brothers, but down south, those devils still do shit in black face. To them, we all ain’t the same. I turned on Univision, or Telemundo, one of those Spanish stations. And guess what I saw: some dude, dark skinned and all, with facial features like a fuckin’ monkey. Saw another show with some dude in black face acting “nigger” like. And this shit was broadcast in America.

Ask them black Mexicans, those black Puerto Ricans, those black Cubans. Those dudes’ll tell you. No matter where you go. No matter who you think you’re affiliated with. In the end, a nigger is always a nigger. If you happen to do some dumb shit and become a black Jew, in the end, you’ll always be a Nigger Jew. Black Israelites know what the fuck I’m talking about.

So, I don’t give a fuck. I got the right to speak the truth. There ain’t no unity. There ain’t no us. There’s them. And then there’s us. And that’s just how I like it. Straight, no chaser. Stop the bullshit. There ain’t no America. Whether you’re in the country, down south, up north, out west, downtown or uptown, suburb or city, project or townhouse, no matter where you live, hold this shit to be self-evident:

When the dust settles, in the end, there’s only them and us.

What’s worser than a black man moving in your neighborhood? A poor black man moving in your neighborhood.

You white devils that come across my site need to write that one down. You’re definitely gonna need that one at that next whitey get together you have.

They say it’s everyman’s American dream to own a home. I heard that living in a home you owned was the worst investment a man could make. Recently I was turned down for a house. Apparently, I’m too broke and in debt to be able to own one right now, if ever. It was really a townhouse, two apartments, a large basement, big backyard. I was trying to do one of those new fangled adult things, move my girl in with me, along with my mother and grandmother, who would both live on the first floor. I felt like a piece of shit when I was denied. I know my girl was disappointed.

My big shot cousin owns several homes, plus a couple of apartment buildings. He rotates that shit, selling them off on the regular. He keeps one or two of them to manage himself. He once told me that he had an unspoken rule never to let anyone under 30 in one of his places. He said that young people fuck shit up, that they never leave the apartment how they got it. Although I doubt if anyone of any age leaves a place exactly how they got it, I must admit, if I owned a place, a probably wouldn’t let anyone my age or younger in either. Because I know me and I know my friends, and indeed, we do fuck shit up. With that knowledge, if I owned my own apartment building, I probably would discriminate against mostly everybody, no matter whatever the age, sex or creed, whatever the fuck that is.

I definitely couldn’t let any women in. Women have a tendency to have kids. They also tend to have shitty ass boyfriends who’re just like me and treat places like shit. You never know what you’re gonna get when you let a woman in. I was about to write a box of a woman, ...when you open up a box of a woman, but I figured that wouldn’t make any sense to most of you. Box, vagina, get it. Fuck it.

Anyway, a woman could be the perfect tenant in the beginnning, even with kids. But then shit eventually gets fucked up. The kids grow up and become gangbangers, or they bring their fucked up friends over, running up and down the stairs, hanging out in front of your shit, keeping up a lot of noise and shit. Or she starts dating some shady ass dude, or her crackhead mother or brother moves in. And the next thing you know, your shit is falling apart.

See. Women are nurturers. That’s why they’re the center of the American family, the center of American life in general. And because of this, women tend to attract to themselves filthy ass family members and fucked up friends. It’s just a part of who they are. They wanna take care of the people they love. And they don’t like to see them suffer.

Take my mother. She hasn’t had to deal with my ass for over the past couple of years. But when she hits 60, and I’m in my 40s and I’m fucked up because I’ve lost my job, or because I still have a shitty ass job, and my woman done kicked me out for the last time, and I’ve finally hit rock bottom, I know I’ll eventually end up living in that small ass backroom in whatever place she’s staying at during that time. That shit’s predestined. And there ain’t shit neither one of us can do about it. Except, maybe she can refuse to tell me where she’s living at the time. In fact, I think that may be for the best, at least for her.

The point I’m getting at is that no matter how cool, or how clean, or how peaceful the woman is, in the end, her shitty ass relatives and associates will completely fuck you over. And that’s why you need to discriminate against every single woman of any age, race or creed. Yeah, even the freaky lesbian chick. Trust me. Dyke beyotches’ll fuck up a place in a minute. They’re just like fucked up boyfriends when it comes to keeping that pussy.

Now I’m not just against the women. I believe in discriminating against others, too. Take men. Never let a group of more than two dudes move in together, even if the majority of them are gay. And stay away from single old guys, especially the ones between 40 and 60 who don’t appear to have a girlfriend. If a dude is past 40 and he’s still single, and he’s never been married, too. I’m telling you, most likely he likes to rape the babies. Now he could be gay also, and that might be a good thing. But the chances of getting a gay dude versus the chances of getting a baby rapist are just too damn close that I just wouldn’t chance that shit.

I’d also have to discriminate against the Mexicans. I respect Mexicans. I love the fact that when one of them gets a place to lay his head, everybody gets a place to lay his head. If only we had more of that shit in the black community, people and family members helping each other out. But, come on. You rent your place to a nice sweet Mexican family with a cute little boy named Juan. And the next thing you know you got Mexicans hanging all over your place, coming outta the woodwork like roaches. Now as a building owner, we can’t be having that shit. The mothafuckin’ Mexicans have got to go.

So the Mexicans aren’t left lonely, I’d also have to say goodbye to any Middle Easterners. This includes, Arabs, Muslims of any race, and India people. If they got one of those Arab type names like Ali or Muhammed or Elijah, they ass don’t get in. We don’t need any suspected terrorists living in our place.

So, with that stated, you might be asking yourself who would I let in. Well, I’d let old couples in. Not single old people, but old married people, thirty to forty plus year old married couples. Old single people tend to stink up the house and leave shit around and grow fungus and roaches in their places. That’s just a part of getting old, you can’t really take care of yourself anymore. But old people together work out just fine. I guess it’s because they’re not alone, they tend to upkeep shit better, and go outside, and go to the doctor, you know, generally take care of themselves and their shit better. Plus, they aren’t as crabby and mean. Everybody has a memory of some old chick throwing hot water down from her window because as a kid you were making too much noise.

So, there you have it, unless you’re old and married, you won’t be getting into my place. Of course, with the present divorce rates in America, there probably won’t be many of them as it is. So, I guess I won’t be having that many tenants. And eventually I’ll be forced to let in all the asshole who will completely tear my shit up. Unless, of course, I fill them up with people who are stereotypically seen as peaceful and docile-like, like the Asians. Yeah, old Asian couples. Can you say Chinatown?

You know something, boys and girls. Doc is sad. No. Doc is angry. No. Doc is sad and angry. Why? Because Doc don’t make nobody wet.

See. I’ve been all over these Internets (And who would have thunk there really were more than one Internets. Bush, you are a fuckin’ genius.) and Doc has seen some really strange shit. Everywhere I turn, beyotches are proclaiming their wetness in weblog, comment, and forum posts. And I’ve read that there’s this dude that gives beyotches orgasm through the fuckin’ telephone wires. I’ve also read how beyotches find that they have to rub themselves raw while reading other dude’s blog posts. And I’m wondering, how come Doc don’t make beyotches’ cootchies wet?

I’m a peaceful, smart brother with a good head on his shoulders. I speak honestly and forthright. I love the beyotches, and their cootchies. Why don’t I give chicks orgasms through these Internet wires? How come these freaky chicks don’t read my shit and get moist between the legs? Is it because I’m a misogynist pig, who has seemingly shown nothing but utter contempt for the female sex on his site? Is it because I use beyotch all the time? Is it because I come off like some hermit-like asshole who hates everything good and honest in the world.

By the way I heard that Rick Scheoder said that country music exemplifies everything good in American. I wonder why real white music exemplifies everything good about America, and really black music exemplifies everything filthy and dirty about our great nation? Why is that?

Anyway. I forgot where I was. Oh yeah. Beyotches wet pussy. I ask every woman who will ever come across this weblog to forgive me. Although I doubt many women will. I get a lot of hits for naked women, like Playboy models, and Patricia Heaton. I did find one weird link in my site stats. It was a google search for Scott Petersen naked. I literally did a spit take when I saw that shit. Esther Baxter, Amy Sue Cooper, even Patricia Heaton (By the way, she has a nice pair on her old ass. I’d do her.), but fuckin’ Scott Petersen. That search must have been made by one of those crazy groupie prison beyotches. You know, the ones they say be sending lettters to dudes behind bars, which is the same exact kind of admiration I’m looking forward.

But I can’t get that shit because I’m not clean and successful like a good Christian man should be. And I’m not dirty enough like a filthy ass gangbangin’ thug should be. See, beyotches, I’m normal. I’m an in-between man, meaning I’m always trying to get in between them thighs. Ha-Ha. Just kidding, beyotches.

Let me explain it further. I wish I was a better human being, but I’m not. I wish I was successful, but I’m not. What I am is a man who has never cheated on a woman, even though I thought about it. And I’ve never smacked a woman, though I’ve been close on occasion. Hell, in real life, I very seldom curse. I just do it under my breath a lot. And I very seldom ever call women, beyotches. Although I do use chick a lot.

In fact, I call my male friends beyotches more than I call women that shit. I literally walk in the room and say, What up, beyotches. And I normally get a What up, beyotch back, or I get a lazy fuck you. And we go about our shit. I wish I had a cleaner vocabulary, but my word count only reaches about 10,000 words, which is why I say fuck and shit a lot. It covers up for not knowing crap. Also, add crap to that list.

But that ignorance isn’t my fault. In true victimization mode, I’d rather blame the shitty school system. Fuck you, shitty school system. If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be banging a big bootied model chick right now. And I’d also like to blame, uh, rap music. Yeah, rap music. That shit’s been sullying my mind since I was a pre-teen. And I bet from listening to all that Too Short and Schooly D and Ice T and NWA, I’ve learned to use beyotch like it was the or but. Shit. If it wasn’t for rap music I’d probably be an upstanding, female loving Baptist. But because of it and rock music, I’m just straight up fucked.

And that’s why I need all you beyotches, I mean, women to show a brother some love. Because without it, I’d probably stay this way forever. And that’s a bad thing. And to do that, I need all the women’s cootchies to collectively get wet for me. I need to feed off that universal wetness, to suck up all that cootchieness deep within my heart.

Now, you might say that you could just send me a card, or a nice email, or leave a sweet comment on my blog. But see, that shit won’t work on a brother like me because I’m fucked up. A fucked up man can only understand fucked up things. I’ve been conditioned to see women’s love and worth through their cootchie, titties and ass.

It’s what every young man learns everyday when they watch Rap City or check out MTV Jams or watch BET Uncut. A woman don’t love a nigga unless she’s pushing that ass and titty in his face. And that’s how I’ve been conditioned. You don’t love me unless you’re willing to get naked for me. I know that shit ain’t right. And I wish there was a better way. But goddammit, there ain’t. And girls, I just don’t have that much time. Before long, like I stated before, I’ll be stuck this way.

And that’s why I need you all to get naked, preferably right now, and think long and hard about a brother, preferably me, and get yourselves juicin’ really good, preferably in the crotch area, like cry me a river type juicin’, a fuckin’ river runs through it type juicin’. Because, in the end, you’ll be doing it for America, for the entire human race, and possibly, for all life within the universe.

I’ve written about Terri Schiavo twice before, once actually halfway in a coherent state. And I’ve come to the conclusion that I didn’t do this woman justice. Seeing her mother about to break down really got to me. I really feel for her family. Pretty soon they will be without their daughter, a child they’ve fought to hold onto for over the past 13 years. It’s really heartbreaking. And what’s really sad is that they’ve never found a way to let her go, even now. They’re hoping for something that will never ever come.

I was watching Patricia Heaton on Entertainment Tonight, yesterday. You know how we all like that feeling when we learn that Brad Pitt and Heidi Klum think like we do. Anyway, Entertainment Tonight was trying to be newsworthy, having celebrities express their feelings about the case. And Patricia Heaton was talking about how she could never do that to one of her kids, pull the feeding tube and watch them die through starvation. And she started crying big time.

And I guess I could agree with her, which is why most of us probably wouldn’t want our parents to have that say over a situation like this. I mean, my mother probably would keep me alive forever if she could, my head floating in some Tupperware, chilling in the freezer, waiting for some miracle cure. And I guess that’s why I love her. She’d keep me alive no matter what. But I know if I ever married, my woman would make sure I died quickly. The only fear would be that she’d try to take me out before my time. I’d wake up one night with my woman trying to do a Kervorkian on a brother, a pillow over my face trying to “assist me” in “suicide.”

But I guess that’d be on me, like that Michael dude is on Terri. Sometimes we get screwed over the choices we make. But it ain’t nobody’s fault but our own. And nobody can fix it but us. And in Terri’s case, it’s beyond repair. She chose an asshole, and now that asshole has been given the responsibility of making the ultimate choice in her life. Some may think he shouldn’t be making that choice. But Terri made that decision long ago. She gave that dude that right long ago, and it’s on her. So, I guess I’m done rubbing it in.

In fact, I think I’m kind of tired of it all, just like my man Barry. I feel like my homeboy. I’m tired, too. I’m tired of all the children playing and laughing outside. I’m tired of the young lovers holding hands in the park. I’m tired of American Idol and telephone numbers. I’m tired of Christmas. Why ain’t the Pope dead, yet? Why Ain’ts I Be Gotten No Monay?

And I’m tired of Bernie Mac, who sounds more and more like Bill Cosby the more I see him. Word to Bernie, you used to be funny. Now you’re not. I think you should have pulled the plug on yourself when you couldn’t breathe. Then, at least we’d continue to remember you fondly. Unfortunately, you’re still alive, and you’re going to continue to embarrass yourself in old age. Too bad.

Damn. This shit has been hectic the past week. First Baretta, then my man, Scott Peterson, and now Lil Kim. And did I forget Martha. Did she get out this week or last? I’m fucked up with time. Just like I’ve been fucked up on this prison shit.

My man Scott gets death, but Baretta gets OFF? Bullshit. I figured they had more on Baretta than they did on my homeboy, Scott. Shit, Baretta was actually at the scene of the crime. And I think they had a fuckin murder weapon. And I think one time he admitted that he had killed the beyotch. But I could be mistaken. All I really know is that they didn’t have shit on Scott. But I guess it’s all a popularity contest.

The simple fact is that people love that ole’ crusty bastard, Baretta, and people hate Scott Peterson. Shit, his own fuckin’ adopted sister went Allred and sold his ass out for a book deal and money. The slimy beyotch. And that Bonnie chick just ain’t as cute as Lacey. Bonnie looked kind of worn out. I guess people expected that beyotch to be killed by someone eventually. It was just her time. Plus, like I said, people really hate my homey, Scott. They definitely didn’t have shit on him, except for the fact that he acted like a complete asshole after Lacey went missing. And you know what they say, if you don’t feel bad when your girl goes missing, you must’ve had something to do with her disappearance. Which is complete bullshit.

Several of my chicks have gone missing in the past. And I just celebrated and laughed. Doesn’t mean I killed them and buried their bodies out in the forest preserves, then moved their shit after I thought the heat was off and dumped their bodies in the lake. It doesn’t mean I killed each of them with rat poison by putting the shit in their hot chocolates and watching anxiously as they drank down my funky potion. Just because after they went missing, I hit the strip clubs and hooked up with my ole’ working girls. It don’t mean I did anything foul, now does it?

And Kim. Fuckers from her own crew, pissed off that she rich and they broke, sold her ass out, testifying against her. And then they have the nerve to shake their fuckin’ pigeon heads in shame and disbelief. Fuckin’ traitors. Only good shit to come out of this shit is that Kim might actually fulfill her lesbian fantasies, showering with chicks, walking around the prison all wet and naked, doing weird freaky shit with the other inmates.

I remember this film, I think it might be Caged Heat. It could be something else entirely. I can only recall this shit by three scenes: one scene is where some dude is sniffin’ coke off this beyotch’s titty and shit. Another one has this real hot black chick getting out the shower, and she’s wet, and she don’t give a fuck that she’s naked. So, she has this towel, petting her naughty parts dry and shit. And then she lays on the bed, and I think a serial killer like Jason pops up and starts killing her ass, so to speak. The third scene has the warden, dressed all sadistic and shit, with a whip in her fuckin’ hand. And she’s like fuckin’ the shit out of the female inmates, doing weird lesbian shit with them.

Come to think of it, from that description, that isn’t Caged Heat. I know I’ve seen Caged Heat. But I just don’t think what I just described is that film. Must be some other freaky prison flick. Anyway, I think Lil Kim better study that shit, whatever it is, just so she won’t get shanked or nothing. I wouldn’t want Lil Kim to get shanked. That would be awful.

Maybe she won’t have to serve that much time. Or maybe she’ll get off easy and do time in some country estate type shit like Miss Martha had to serve in. Then, she’d at least be able to do her regular country side walks, possibly get her a white chick, and finally find peace in her fuckin life. You know, like Martha. Not that I know that for a fact. I’m not looking to get sued or anything. But don’t tell me with them beyotches calling her Miss Martha, that she didn’t turn out somebody. Probably had beyotches tossing her salad for some, well, um, contra band fresh vegetables so she could make tossed salad.

Anyway. All I got to say is that I’m completely and utterly disappointed with our judicial system. It sickens me that popularity rules over actual evidence. Which means I’ll actually have to change up my shit on this weblog. I can’t be coming off like the asshole I am. I need to come across as more likeable. Which is why I’ve decided to finally express my feelings of love and respect to all my readers, the two of you. I love you. And I care for you all very deeply. In my eyes, all of you are beautiful.

Now I have to go and vomit.

All I gotta say is LET - THAT - BEYOTCH - GO!

Mothafuckas trying to fuck this woman over like that. Got her slobbin’ on herself and shit. Cause her mothafuckin’ eyes blinked. Shit, my old dog eyes used to blink, too. But we still put that beyotch down when she got fucked up. We kill fuckin’ horses for less.

All in the name of some dumb religious shit. Woman told her man that she didn’t want to live like that. The beyotch is gone. She gone! Let her ass go. Pull the fuckin’ tubes. All the fuckin’ courts say to let that shit go. But nope, fuckas wanna shell out million dollar checks and shit.

Where was that million dollars when my boy got shot three years ago? The hospital let his ass go and he couldn’t eat right, feed his self, or wipe his own ass. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t walk. He couldn’t do shit, but take up space. His ass just laid in his old room in his mama’s house until he died two years later. And his mother went bankrupt and shit. Where was that muthafuckin’ million dollars then, you assholes?

White devil cracka muthafuckas always got shit up their white devil sleeves. Can’t trust’em. Black reverends know. You can believe in the same God and still not trust whitey. Why? Because whitey always got something up his sleeves. Probably the reason why I didn’t win the lottery last night. It’s a conspiracy. WHERE MY MUTHAFUCKIN MONEY!

It’s bullshit. BULLSHIT, I SAY!

Free that beyotch. LET THAT BEYOTCH GO!

That’s all I gotta say about that shit.

I feel a little depressed today. I’ve been this way for the last two days. Things just feel funny, like when you do what you’re told, what everybody tells you is the right thing to do, and things still go shitty, and everything falls apart anyway. I just feel empty. I honestly didn’t care for Kerry, but I sure do feel like shit that he lost, and I don’t see myself recovering anytime soon.

With that said, I don’t think the world has come to an end like some have noted. I don’t see myself going to Canada. That’s some dumb shit. I’m an American. And my way of thinking is a born and bred American way of thinking.

But I definitely feel alienated from the rest of America. I live in a blue state, and the rest of America doesn’t see things anywhere close to how my blue brothers see things. But I still feel good. I still make up over 50 million people strong, close to half of this country’s voting block. And I feel strong because of that. Sure, we’re concentrated as hell, but we make up one of the most educated, most riches, most progressive blocks in the American populace. And somehow, that makes me feel better.

Still, let me chime in on what Democrats should do next time to fulfill them liberal dreams.

I don’t think politics is about the message. It’s how you say that shit. And who’s saying that shit. That’s the only way my little mind can justify the re-election of Bush. I don’t hate the guy. And I like some of his ideas, like his SSI privatization initiative (Fuck The Old People). But you just can’t fuck up like he has for the past four years and get re-elected unless there’s something else, something weird, going on.

So here’s how I’d choose the next Democratic candidate for president, or at least who I wouldn’t choose for the next candidate for prez-o-dent:

No liberals. No weird conservatives either.

I think most people are moderate like me. I hate the idea of abortion, but I can’t see me supporting a government that would deny a woman choice when it comes to her body. I love guns. My ole’ man had a rifle. He used to wear a rifle bullet shell as a necklace. Guns were a part of my youth. But nobody needs a semi-automatic. Not even the police. And homosexuality. I’m a fuckin homophobe. I don’t completely get that shit. And marriage is a religious institution. Sorry. God may love you, but he don’t promote you. But I believe within secular, civil society, gays should have a right to legally bind themselves to each other with recognized civil unions.

I think the Democratic party needs someone who will express that view, although I wish some Republicans would be man enough to express that view as well. I know many Republicans who believe as I do, but they don’t vote that way.

Next. No women. This includes you Hillary, if you are one. Democrats can’t even get a straight man elected. Let’s not get too cute with this shit. No Clintonesque shit. Let’s keep it dick and balls for now.

No black people. Read last paragraph.

Come on, do you honestly think we’re that progressive enough to elect a brother. It ain’t happening. Sorry, my home skillet, Obama. Your ass ain’t getting elected. Shit, white people still have a problem electing Catholics and folks from above the Mason-Dixon, let alone KneeGrows.

Which leads to my next recommendation.

No Yankee bastards. Southerners ain’t votin’ for no Yankee, unless of course he gets him a ranch down south and acts country for a while, preferably for a decade or so.

A Democrat will get the water states, the liberal stronghold, whether he’s from up north or not. But when was the last guy elected, Democrat or Republican, who wasn’t tied to a Southern state. Reagan’s ranch is down there. The Bush’s have kept ties down there. Clinton was from down there. Carter too. So, what, Nixon? Ford? There hasn’t been a dude elected to the top office since the 70s who was stationed up north. You know why? Cause Rednecks don’t have no love for us Yankee bastards. It just ain’t happening.

Keep it simple.

To add, No gay sounding Southerners. That includes Edwards, if he intends on running again.

And no stiff moving people. Stiff moving people very seldom get elected. Even Bush’s stiff ass had to steal one from another stiff dude four years ago to get the top office.

So there you have it, my shitty ass recommendations.

Just remember I put this shit together while still being fucked up. When I come to grips with my situation maybe I’ll find this entry embarrassing.

Ohio. Ohio. Ohio.

It’s time to get fucked up.

Now shitty ass national anthem singing.

The mood has changed.

4 more Bush years.

The Republicans came out.

The youth still didn’t give a fuck.

Can’t trust these beyotches.

Vote or Die, Puffy.

Fuck you and MTV.

I think today will be the last time I’ll be talking about politics in a long time. Of course that’s a lie. But what I really mean is that it’s getting close to the time when I’ll stop talking politics for some time. Tomorrow I vote. And the day after I laugh hysterically from my guy winning, or I vent and think of new ways to fuck my system up with some good ole drugs, preferably the strong stuff. I honestly don’t know what to wish for: have my shithead candidate win, or get really fucked up. Hmmmm.

But while I’m pondering that, let me make one last case for my guy. And one last case against the other guy.

My guy’s good and your guy sucks.

Your guy sucks balls even though he hates faggots. My guy is cool. And your guy is a whore. He whored himself his entire adult life. Then he found Jesus. Make up your mind flip-flopper, crack head whore or Jesus freak? One minute your snorting the white shit. Next thing your going to church trying to get right. You can’t have it both ways, crackhead. Either crack or Jesus.

Yeah. I know that’s a hard choice. You give up the crack and you get dumber. You give up Jesus and you lose the presidency. Stay president and be dumb. Lose the election and stay on the crack. I wish I didn’t have to choose between those two. Plus, if you choose the crack, you lose that wife of yours. But we all know which is more important don’t we. Tell you what, someone finds a way to reunite Bush with his crack, I’ll find a way to get you a 5 dollar Target coupon. It’s Target, and you’ll be helping Bush in the process. Cause my homey is hurting inside, just like Courtney Love.

Taxes. I hear somebody wants to give me a tax break. You know what my sister did with her Earned Child Credit? She got an abortion with that tax break. And my flimsy uncle got his boyfriend an ass lift. And Bush says he’s against abortion and gay unions. Then why support a tax break that supports abortions, preferably partial birth abortions, and gays sodomizing each other on the shores of Hawaii. Bush isn’t for more family values and good Christian morals, he’s for less, and more abortions and gay anal sex. And he claims to want to be the president of the greatest half-assing Christian nation on Earth. Puh-leeeeeze!

And Bush says he’s against terrorism. Like I’m against lesbian porn. His father loves the Saudis. And aren’t the Saudis Muslim. And what did Bush do after 9/11. He goes to war against Saddam and frees the Iraqi Muslims from the tyrannical grips of Hussein. For a man who wants to kill the terrorist, who we all know are Muslims, he sure do want to free a great many of them, giving them rights like we have here in America. Does that sound like a man who hates the terrorist? I don’t think so. In fact, it sounds like ole Bush is a terrorist lover. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he won reelection that he wouldn’t outlaw English and make that jibba-jabba Islamic crap our national language.

I say do we honestly want a pro-partial birth abortion, pro-gay sex, pro crack, pro-crackhead, pro-Muslim terrorist, Islamic speaking Texan in office?

Do We?

I think you know the answer.

And that’s why I’m here to say with great horror that Super-Villain Style endorses that wooden son-of-a-beyotch John Kerry and his gay country friend, John Kerry, for President and Vice-President of the United States of America.

Of course this means that these dudes will surely lose. My endorsement is like Osama showing you love.

But still… Fuck It.

You can still vote and say fuck it at the same time. So go vote, then bitch later, and get fucked up whether your guy wins or loses.

To My Love, Osama:Just when I thought I wouldn’t see you again, you return. Now my life is turned upside down. And what did you expect. You thought I would just drop what I was doing and go back to you. Sorry sweetie, but it won’t be that easy. I won’t just return to being your little lap dog. I’ve grown since you were gone. I got a new job, a new house, a new car. I’ve been spending my time on others. And I think you know that. I’ve seen it in you before. You’re just jealous, jealous that I’ve moved on, jealous that I’ve done better without you. And you just can’t stand it. Well, tough luck. Because I’m not going back. I’m a changed person, and most of that change has been for the better. And I want it to stick. So, you can just go. Find yourself someone else to rule over, to control. Because you and me is over, honeychile!

– D.R.O.