Sunday, December 12, 2010

Operation: Anti-Claus

Target: Saint Nicholas

Alias: Santa Claus

Age: Unknown

Occupation: Mad Scientist

Charges against Santa:

1. Kidnapping and genetically manipulating of midg-uh--little people to have pointy ears and speak in cheery songs. Also known as "elving."

2. The enslavement of aforementioned mini-mutants.

3. Illegal gamma radiation exposure experiments on reindeer.

4. Unlicensed, unregistered aircraft operation.

5. Millions of counts of breaking & entering.

6. Mass bootlegging of toy brands & pirating intellectual property.

7. Unlawful factory operation, theft of natural resources and environmental pollution.

8. Illegal surveillance and invasion of privacy of billions of children.

Below map is an outline of engagement and elimination of target. 

Parachute down to Rudolph. Sever his nose to disorient reindeer.

Get to Santa with grappling hook. Snap his neck.

Tie toy bag to his leg. Push him out of sled into Arctic Ocean.

Guide reindeer back to The North Pole Military Base.

Sleigh will make sneaking pass the defenses easy.

Set explosives in the factory and elf cottages.

Free Mrs. Claus and deflower her.

Mission Accomplished.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Star Trek is Racist

You mean to tell me that you can travel ten times the speed of light, bend space, create sentient robots, a personal matrix, rearrange molecules to make food, destroy planets and completely defy the physics of the vacuum of space by hearing explosions and lasers in space, but the Black dude is blind? C'mon! I mean, is it just coincidence that in the future Kunta Kinte is disabled--you know, someone looked at differently? Just sayin...

Geordi LaForge. The BL_ _ _ Guy
And he never got laid. He couldn't even bang Whoopi Goldberg (of Captain Planet fame). And blindness is a prerequisite to bang her!

Whorf. The Former Thug Who Made It Outta Da Hood.
Black. Angry. Savage. Doesn't speak the same way he did while growing up. I see "stereotypecast" written all over this one. And he's a f@cking Uncle Tom sellout.

Data. Named After the Asian Kid from Goonies.
The robot. Uber smart. Yellow skin. Never smiles. How subtle. He was also built with an unnecessary penis, as he has used it. Robots with dicks? Sounds like a very Japanese thing to me. I'm just sayin'...

-------- Short Intermission ---------

Deanna Troi's fine ass single-handedly raised the stock value of lotion and tissue in the early 90s.

------- back to our regularly schedule program  --------

You'd think humans might be a bit more brown in the future. Apparently, humans will still believe in reproducing only with their own skin color. And you wonder why aliens don't come here. We're galactic trash. Racism in the supposedly most intelligent life form on the planet is the dumbest thing in the Cosmos.


I wonder why there aren't any gay people in the future or in any other alien race. But then again, it also seems that Jesus never showed up.
Just sayin...

Friday, October 22, 2010

The Pet Poop Police

Contrary to what would normally seem obvious, NYC sidewalks aren't made of concrete. They're made of centuries-worth of layers of a dog shit. New Yorkers let their canines crap anywhere.

Those days = Over.

Introducing a new agency in Homeland Security:

The Pet Poop Police.

Or more uncleverly known as PPP.
Do not call them the Poo-leese.

First we'll start a DNA registry of all dogs at:

The Department of Dog DNA.

For lack of options, also known as the DDD...yet another agency in Homeland Security.

Dog DNA will be collected at pet purchase or birth and saved in a supercomputer database at DDD headquarters.

Register your canine. Or be fined.

Whenever there's unpicked poop on pedestrian premises, the PPP agent takes a sample of the pungent poo and sends it to the DDD. The DDD traces the doo doo dung directly to the dog owner, and fines them the amount it'd cost to keep them in jail for a month...while keeping them in jail for a month. With their dog.

If you're caught in the act of non-poopscoopianism, your dog will be lightly sauteed in garlic butter and fed to the homeless.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Are You Self-Gay?

A really weird, possibly made-up discussion

Someone:  If you masturbate, then technically you're having sex with yourself.

Hunter:  True. I think.

Someone:  Well, that makes you gay. Or bisexual.

Hunter: I don't know exactly what it is that YOU think about while jerking off, but I ain't thinking about me.

Someone:  The guys in prison ain't thinking about the soap-dropper.

Hunter:  Yeah, but masturbation isn't exactly self-rape.

Someone:  Well, did yourself ask yourself if it was okay to do that to yourself?

Hunter:  Well, I didn't put up much of a fight. I'd say it was mutual consent.

Someone:  Well, what if you met yourself from a parallel dimension and you two had synchronized psychic brains? Would you jerk him off?

Hunter:  Maybe. That wouldn't make me gay. That'd make me a multi-dimensional traveler experimenting with the fabric of time and space. At that point, all rules of experimentation are off the table. Dude, if you had a f@cking multiple personality disorder, and one of them was a hot chick would you have a wet dream with her? I mean, hell, man...shut up.

Someone:  Well, would you suck your own c@ck?

Hunter:  What?! Dude. No. Conversation. Over.

Someone:  I mean, you drink your own saliva. That's like tongue kissing yourself. You're totally self-gay! You think you're pretty hot, don't ya, huh?

Hunter: If I called you a b!tch and smacked the sh!t out of you, would that be like hitting a woman?

Thursday, September 30, 2010

How to Save Your Little Girl From Hip Hop...

One day I heard this little girl rapping. Her mother was right there. Singing with her. A very trashy rap song.

Now do you want your little princess singing raunchy, misogynistic, whorish rap songs?

Have you ever caught her "droppin' it to da flo?" or "Droppin' it like it's hot?" and all those other disgusting dances better reserved for strip clubs? Well, that stripper is someone's daughter. Someone's mom. Maybe your mom. Maybe your daughter.

No. Not
your daughter.
Do you know why? Because you're going to prevent that from ever happening!

Buy your little boo boo bear the all-new "Electrified Stripper's Pole." And she'll drop to the flo' every time until she learns her lesson about crap music. She won't be singing' "Make it Rain" anytime soon–because water conducts electricity! Her subconscious mind will equate stripping and freaky dancing to pain and power outages.

Electrified Stripper's Pole for Girls (and young sons who you suspect will grow up to be gay or transgender because you mistakenly named them "Shannon" or "Ivory.")

"She'll drop...because it's hottttttttt!"

You can become a better, more attentive parent today for the "shockingly" low price of $19.99 + tax.