Lardbarn and Bloatwife pose for the camera with the white trash shithead on the right and John Tesh on the left.
First off, let me say that the US Government doesn't know jack shit about treating us senior war veterans properly. Yeah yeah yeah, I know I just might've mentioned something about that in the past, but I don't give a shit and if you've got some problem with me repeating crap, let's see you try to complain about it when you're removing a 50-pound bag of rusty ball bearings from your mouth, you flailing puke volcano. I served this country during the World of Wars I, the World of Wars II, the Vietnam War, the Korean War, the War Against Terror, the War Against Inflation, and the Battle of Big Gulp, so I think I've earned my right to point out how much I think the government is going down the shitter. Can you believe that the United States of America is supposed to be a "civilized nation," yet they don't give veterans like me the day off for Columbo Day? What kind of cockshit is this fuckery? I've given so much crap to this country that I know I deserve at least one day off to celebrate Colon Day or whatever it was yesterday. But no, the goddamn government won't give me Monday off because they got a gigantic stick up their collective asses and want to squeeze every penny out of my grizzled ass. Now some of you might be saying, "wah, but Cliff, you don't have a job! Why are you bitching about not getting the day off if you're unemployed?" Let me answer that for you right now: it's the principle of the whole thing. Our country was founded on principles, like the principle to conform peaceably and the freedom between church and steak, so if you stop believing in principles then you might as well move to Russia you godless communist prick. Also I hate abacuses because those beads just look stupid and I want to break them all.
Since I didn't get the damn day off yesterday, I decided to head down and buy some shoes at the Buster Brown shoe store on the corner of 18th and Murphy Lane. Now you're not going to believe what shit happened next: I go there and I'm pushing this shopping cart I push around on Mondays and call "The Chuck Cart" because I ram it into the Coke machine outside the Ace Hardware store over and over until it starts giving me free sodas. I don't remember why I call it "The Chuck Cart" though. Anyway I'm pushing the Chuck Cart down the street and I get into the parking lot outside the Buster Brown store and I look up and guess what I see? They put a goddamn K-Mart where the Buster Brown store was! What kind of shit is this shit? I mean, just yesterday it was a goddamn shoe store and now it's full of snot-haired little puking bastards buying Teen Rage Mutant Turtle dolls and crap. I hate this bait and switch shit, that's what the phone company always tries to pull on me by calling me up at night and saying crap about how if I switch over to their service then they'll give me a wheelbarrow full of burritos or something stupid, so I switch over and the only shit I get is a phone which some Mexican hog named Rosco uses to call me every 15 minutes asking for some fat fucker named Pilar. Hey Rosco, why don't you cross the border and meet Pilar yourself if you're so goddamn infatuated with that dumb broad? I'm sure she'll cook you a nice meal and then lay some alien eggs inside your skull while you sleep. Make sure to bring correct change.
Rick Berringer stores squirrels in his stomach for Winter.
So I was talking about the K-Mart, I was going to walk right in there and start throttling the manager by his throat like the time I caught the lizard trying to steal my cantaloupe, but the store is closed because it's 4:00 AM. I start getting really pissed off at that point and I begin shoving the Chuck Cart into the glass window, but the shit won't break because it's some of that crazy Jap glass which is unbreakable unless you use those high tech burglar tools like they used in that one movie with Robert DeNiro and that other guy who always plays a stupid retard in all his movies, Edward Morton or whatever. I tried to make my own burglary tools one night, so I taped a big fucking rock to a hammer and used it to break into the Patterson's basement so I could steal all their wine and packing boxes. But these windows wouldn't break for shit, even if I would've used the ol' hammerock. I fell asleep in the Chuck Cart and woke up the next morning and some shithead had pushed me into the empty field next to the Radio Shack! What kind of bullshit is that? I bust into the K-Mart and shout "I want to speak to your manager right now!!! Also who pushed me into the alley behind the Radio Shack?" as loud as I can at the cardboard cutout of some NASCAR driver, and a few minutes later some gutterbrained sumpchest comes waddling up to me and asking me to keep my voice down because it's a family store and full of families. I shout right back at him, "you're goddamn right this is a family store, now get me a family sized bottle of whisky and I promise not to break a picture frame over your wife's head, you sack of shit!" Of course I was lying; I'd break a picture frame over his wife's head no matter what he did.
To make a long story short, this little college graduate smarmy asshole starts trying to bullshit me and claims that the K-Mart has been there for 18 years and the Buster Brown shoe story closed in the late 70's. You know what? That's a goddamn dirty lie that he made up to try and discredit a respected veteran like me. I went through too much shit to take crap from some ass wearing a brown tie and pants the color of my last bowel movement. One time during the Vietnam War I was ordered to guard an ammo dump outside of the banana plantation my goddamn lazy CO was using to screw lice-infested natives. So I'm sitting there and spraying gasoline on trees when suddenly I hear this rustling in the bushes. I think it's a fucking monkey or some shit so I start spraying gasoline on it and calling it a "motherfucker" as fast as I could. Some Asian shithead gets up and starts yelling in commie talk to all his friends, who are next to him and camouflaged so I can't seem them. I start thinking, "hey, maybe these are the assholes who I'm supposed to protect this ammo dump from!" and then I think "maybe these foreigners are the assholes who we're fighting in this war!" because I never saw who we were fighting because I forgot my glasses before I was shipped overseas. I told the beefnecked slophog behind the desk that I can't see shit without my glasses, but he kept saying "GET ON THE GODDAMN PLANE, YABLONSKI" and so I said "fine, I'll get on this fucking plane, but if any of you bloated dicksharks try to court martial me just because I drink heavily and love friendly fire, you better know that I don't got no problem with using your larynx as a whip which I'll swing at my TV to change the channels when a commercial for some stupid bathsoap comes on." Where was I? Oh yeah, the Asians are standing around and I'm sitting there with my M1 in one hand and the gasoline hose in the other hand, but luckily I had an incendiary grenade in my other hand, and I threw that fucker and hit the deck. I black out and the next thing I know, I'm in an office somewhere and this paper-pushing jerkoff is telling me my CO was killed by an incendiary grenade the last night. I start laughing and the fucker asks me why I was laughing and I said "because I always hated that fucker" and then I asked him where my gasoline hose was and he said it was burned in the fire, and that made me stop laughing because it was a really good hose and I'd pay a lot of money for a replacement like that. They don't make gas hoses like they used to, and if you don't believe me, then try going to the local gas station and stealing one of their hoses. You'll see what I mean.
Eddie Kinningston tries to signal traffic from his livingroom. Good luck you fat fuck.
Before I finish this story, I gotta ask you pathetic computer nerds out there if you can use your computer screens to find out what kind of disease I got. I started getting sick about a week ago, and at first I thought I was just hung over, but I don't remember getting blisters on my forehead from drinking. About a week ago I went to steal this really nice car I saw in the junkyard and while I was walking across the dump, I see this can labeled "ASTRONAUT FOOD" and so I say, "hey alright, now I can eat the same shit that those exploding cretins in space eat" and I dig into the can. Let me give you some advice: don't eat shit you find in a junkyard at 2:00 AM. It was dark and I couldn't see anything, but I came back the next morning and found out that it wasn't astronaut food I ate, it was a bunch of wet confetti that had been sitting in the dump for at least a month. And it wasn't a can labeled "ASTRONAUT FOOD" I thought I was eating from, it was a dead wolf's carcass. So if you're thinking of eating some shit you found in the junk yard, bring a flashlight or at least wait until daytime. Anyway, the day after I ate it, I began sweating all the time, even when I was sleeping. One day I woke up and tried to open my eyes, but instead of the eyelids opening up, my socks flew off and my television turned on. Then, the next day, I started seeing all these black lines on my tongue, even when I wasn't looking at it. Also I don't hate that stupid broad Katie Couric as much as I once did. So if any of you eggheads can help me out with this shit, I promise I won't use your head as a speedbump next time I take a shortcut through your house. And don't tell me to take any more Tylenol or get more vitamin chalk in my diet because if I won't change for my parole officer, what the hell makes you think I'll change for some computer screen nerd like you? On second thought, don't bother contacting me because I don't want you to ever speak to me.
So instead of getting the day off for Columbo Day, I had to work because you don't get shit for free in this hellhole town. I decided to finally install that shower I've been meaning to do since my old shower broke during a heated fistfight I had with it in 1986 after the wrong guy won "Press Your Luck" and pissed me the fuck off. I never built a shower before because I hate water and I hate pipes, and I have no reason to build one. However, there's this foxy broad who works at the Citgo gas station downtown and I've been trying to wow her with my manly charms the past few weeks. She's really stacked with tits the size of cattle. I don't know what her face looks like because who the fuck cares about that shit? I want a broad who will put out and won't get all pissy when I throw her out the window later that same night. You want to cuddle? How about you cuddle with the street curb, you sow. I've been following the lady from Citgo home every night and I'm starting to figure out what kind of men she likes. As far as I can tell, she will only screw men who look like her husband. That little crotchweasel is one of those 20-something year old white trash fuckwits who are growing "my first moustache" and have those stupid little curly hairs growing all over their moist doughy faces. He probably drives a dirtbag Trans-Am too. I'm trying to not come on too strong to this stupid dame, but it's really fucking hard to get the attention of broads these days, especially now that the legal definition of "consensual sex" is so goddamn vague.
I was going to go to the home supply store and buy some shit like pipes and water for my shower, but then I started thinking that I didn't need any of that shit because it's just a big scam that the junkfucks at Home Depot have been trying to brainwash us with so we'll spend money on crap we don't need like nails and glue and AIDS vaccines. You can build a shower out of shit laying around your own house, and I should know because one time I built a birdbath out a bucket and 17 rolls of duct tate, and that thing lasted for at least four days before the wind blew it over. I was sitting around in my wheelbarrow and I started thinking about what kind of shit I'd need to make a shower, and I wrote down this:
1) A TUBE (FOR WATER)
2) SOMETHING TO STAND ON
3) (can't read)
I think #3 said something like "bug hat" but I have no fucking clue what "bug hat" is or where I would buy one, so just forget about it. This shit is going on too long, so I'm just gonna tell you blubbering cretins about how to make a shower next time. Plus I'm sick of writing this shit on my Columbo Day when I should instead be relaxing and having the day off. I can't believe I killed hundreds of Japs, some during World War II, and the goddamn lazy sons of bitches in the White House won't give me the day off. It's bullshit, plain and simple folks.
A VOTE FOR ARNOLD WAS A VOTE FOR COMEDY
Ryan "OMGWTFBBQ" Adams coming attcha, quite happy to have the Terminator as my governor. As much as I joked about the "Comedy Gold" that would come from voting Arnold into office, I really thought he was the only viable solution to getting Grey Davis (and keeping Bustamante) the heck out of office. I'd have voted for McClintock if I had thought he might have stood a chance, but eh, so it goes. I do think Arnold will try and right things, so we'll see how it turns out. How much longer do you think it'll be before we see some "Don't blame me, I voted for Gary Colman" buttons start showing up?
Forum Goon WillBBC took quite a nice picture. Except for the zipper that was also photographed down in the bottom left corner:The Goons "fixed it." Kinda.Please remember to spay and neuter your cats and dogs!
Did Louis C.K. jerk off in front of two female comics? And why are these ladies squandering an opportunity to learn from a comedy legend?
Elliot said my breakup must have been due to the sweater curse, an unexplained phenomenon where anyone who gives their significant other a hand-knit sweater gets dumped. The only way to break the curse, Elliot said, was to destroy the sweater.
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.