Monday, November 3, 2008

A Message from Cindy McCain

A Vote For My Husband Is A Vote For Me Not Breaking Your F**king Neck

Normally, I don't get out front and center like this in the media, preferring instead to support my husband from the sidelines and let the pundits do the talking. But as Election Day draws ever nearer, I'd like to take this time to urge all of you to put "Country First" and cast your vote for my husband, John McCain! Because a vote for John McCain is not just a vote for experience, fortitude, and American values, it's also a vote for me, Cindy McCain, not tearing your ribcage open and spilling your steaming viscera into the street.

And that's something all Americans can agree on.

Let's take back Washington and make America great again! Barack Obama has never fought for this great country like John McCain has. That's a fact. So when you're in that election booth, ask yourself, do you want a president who believes in the strength of the American worker, or do you want me to rip off your limbs and use them to beat your skull to a bloody pile of skin and bone fragments? I think the choice is clear.

If you really think that a junior senator with no executive experience is the best person to lead us out of this economic crisis, then by all means vote for Obama. Just hope to God I never find out about it and, say, drive to your house in the dead of night, crawl through your bedroom window, and, in a calculated moment of seething rage, strangle you with my bare goddamn hands.

If you're really, really lucky, I'll just shoot you in the face.

Do you think Michelle Obama has the grace and assertiveness needed to be a good first lady? Do you think she has the poise and composure it takes? Consider this: Mrs. Obama might be younger and prettier than I am, but will she pull out your spine and howl like a hyena while drenched in the blood of your children? Because that's just the sort of sick shit I'm prepared to do if you don't vote for my husband. You hear that, you Obama- supporting swing-state fucks? I'll kill you. I'll fucking destroy you.

Oh, sure, I'm all smiles now. Got to give the cameras a happy face when they pull in for a close-up of me clapping at yet another campaign stop. But don't let my wide-eyed, vacant stare fool you—as God as my witness, I will shred your face into ribbons of tattered, flapping flesh with my bare fingernails if you even think about voting Democrat.

John McCain is the candidate America can trust, and if you so much as entertain the notion of voting for anyone else, you can trust that my war-hero husband isn't the only one in the family with the psychological resources to murder at will. I promise you, if you stand in the way of the leadership, integrity, and bold new vision John McCain is going to bring to the White House, the last thought that will go through your head before I tear it from your shoulders will be the fervent, desperate wish that you'd never been born.

Go ahead. Pull that lever for Obama. Try me. Do you think I am fucking kidding?!

Look at me. Look into my beady little eyes. See the way my delicate, birdlike head sits daintily on top of my poised, slender neck? Now imagine that head lunging in for the gruesome kill like the beak of a crazed, razor-taloned raptor intent on ripping open your jugular vein.

Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this? How many millions of dollars of my own money I've put up to help finance my husband's campaigns, only to see his character assassinated by members of his own party for decades? To see a shitbird like Karl Rove spread a rumor that John McCain had an illegitimate black baby and steal the South Carolina primary for Bush in 2000? To have the same party that condemned him as a "maverick" turn to him in desperation and champion the very qualities they once abhorred?

After all that, do you seriously think I'm going to stand idly by when the Democrats trot out a charismatic outsider-type of their own and blatantly steal my husband's outsider act just at the moment of victory?

I will bathe in your blood, Obama-supporting scum!

Now get out there and vote McCain-Palin on Nov. 4!

(from The Onion)

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Monday, October 20, 2008

Ask Special Guest Columnist Brad Pit

Dear Special Guest Columnist Brad Pitt,

When are you going to dump Angelina and marry me instead?

Larsima Herpamer*:

Dear LarsH:

I was just about to do that very thing when Angelina inflated her hypnotic lips, sadly, I'm under her spell. I've lost all free will. Otherwise, I'd be in your arms right now.

Sincerely (almost) yours:
Bradleyford Pittworthington**

*editor's note: Name changed to protect the "innocent." (snort)

**editor's other note: No wonder he shortened his name. Wanna bet the kids picked kicked his ass every day on the playground? Who's laughing now, bizatches!

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Ask Special Guest Columnist Mr. Rogers

Dear Special Guest Columnist Mr. Rogers:

I am having extreme difficulty changing my shoes. Having watched your program from a very early age, I am aware that after removing a shoe, one should toss it from hand to hand before proceeding, yet my hand-eye coordination is so bad that I inevitably toss a shoe in the fish tank, or worse hit myself in the face with it. Help!


"Shoe-Hit In The Face"

Dear S.H.I.T. Face:

I can completely understand your problem. When I first started in this business, I was landing shoes everywhere. After I inadvertently filled his moat with stray sneakers, King Friday XIII finally signed a make-believe death warrant, which I negotiated down to 120 hours of make-believe community service. A side note: In the neighborhood of make-believe, "community service" means getting drunk. Once King Friday XIII was soused, I was off the hook.

Here are two thoughts about your problem:

First, dressing yourself properly takes practice. Wear a hockey mask, close the lid on your fish tank, board up the windows, lock your children in their bedrooms, and PRACTICE!

Second, when you're old and senile like I am your aim deteriorates drastically. But remember, for us big-time TV stars, there's always special effects. I haven't thrown a shoe in twenty years. In the mid 80's after I killed three cameramen with shoes to the noggin, jugular, and 'nads, my brilliant staff created a gadget we called "shoe on a string" to float the little sucker from one hand to the other. Now, thanks to the magic of green screen technology, I toss a little green beanbag and they turn it into a shoe!

So if you never master shoe-tossing, consider pursuing a television career where they'll take care of that for you.

Hope you have a snappy new day, neighbor! (snap, snap)

Aim high,
Mr. Rogers

An Apology

Apparently, in this election year, making fun of the Republican candidate is inappropriate. To all those who were offended by the previous post, I apologize. My intent was not to offend, but to entertain. As such, if you were offended, it sucks to be you. Go get your mommy to put a band-aid on your fragile underdeveloped sense of humor.


P.S. In an attempt to appease my wounded readership (if ANYONE is actually reading), my next guest columnist will be someone completely apolitical. Someone who wouldn't offend a fly...except perhaps with his shoe.

Ask Special Guest Columnist Sarah Palin

Dear Special Guest Columnist Sarah Palin:

I am a pregnant teenager who just ain't sure what to do. I'm not ready to be a mommy...or a mother...or a daddy for that matter. In fact, my lame-o boyfriend is such an dingleberry, I'm sure the baby is gonna come out with three heads and beer cans for hands. If the bees-tard bf wasn't so smooth in the sack, I'd toss him in the nearest snowbank. But mom seems to like him. What should I do about the baby? Should I tell my parents? Do you think they'll notice when I start showing? You've got to help me...what do I do?

Wazzap in Wasilla

Dear Wazzap Wazza Wannabe Wasilla Wallflower (or whatever the hell pseudo-name-thingy you're going by today, Bristol):

As a former mayor who shoots wolves from an airplane and can see Russia from my patio, I have all the answers to any possible question. I'm glad you came to me for straight talk. So I'm going to ignore your question and talk about Mars. Mars is a planet. It's red, therefore communist. And if the truth be known, it's right next to Chicago, where Barack Obama is from, and I'm not sayin' he's a commie, but he IS a liberal which is practically the same thing. So a vote for Obama is a vote for red commies who want to take away Joe Sixpack's great American way of life, dagnabbit. And another thing: As a lipsticky maverik outsider hockeymom pittbull, I just want you to know that I'm definitely in support of opposing the elite liberal regime where if they don't do that or the other.

Love and snarls,
S.P. for V.P.

P.S. Bristol, you know that if you want to have a heart to heart with your ol' ma, you have to make an appointment with my administrative secretary like everybody else. No more of this folksy fakishness writin' letters and what to your doing in the peace and prosperity of maverik and also.

Introducing "Ask Anyone...Ever"

A few days ago...the day before Lisa decided to begin her advice , to be exact...I had a brilliant idea. What if the people who wrote (or called in) to Ann Landers, Dear Abby, Marjorie Proops, or Dolly Parton (in that movie Straight Talk) could get real advice. Something from a regular a celebrity...who knows and understands their pain. Then I thought, what if all the voices in my head could get the same service. It was a stroke of brilliance! A blog where ANYBODY could ask advice of ANYBODY, living or dead. Ask Anyone Ever!

Then Lisa started her advice blog. Realizing great minds think alike, and knowing the mediocrity of my own mind, I felt compelled to ask Lisa what she was thinking. If, in fact, great minds DO think alike, and mine is merely mediocre, why am I thinking alike with a truly great mind? It occurs to me that the solution is that either this is a brilliant idea or Lisa's mentally slumming. Either way, not wanting to steal Lisa's thunder I offered to be a "guest columnist" on her blog and submitted a couple posts, channeling other great minds like Mr. Rodgers and Sarah Palin.

Lisa deemed both unsuitable for her (apparently) weak-stomached audience.

Well, boo on them. Boo on them all. So, given the fact that this advice is too important to be wasted on nobody (I mean, the idea wasn't "Nobody ask Anyone Ever") I feel compelled to Blog it myself. It is sincere wish that while I doubt anybody is actually reading anything, nobody will learn everything from anyone in this blog and everybody will...dammit, I'm confused.

Have fun. Ask questions...because if you don't, I will.