no handouts for tricksters and liars

i love evil in all its forms. i would like to introduce to you shirley nagel, who doesn’t hand out halloween candy to obama supporters or their children. i love her. she knows you have to take a strong hand with tomorrow’s youth, and they must learn, a vote against mccain is a vote against peanut m&ms. god bless you shirley!

watch the 2 minute news story here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jbkBE0lWeYU

ps: keep a careful eye out for an angry parent who dressed up as rosie o’donnell!

thank you for being a friend

Halloween Costume 2008: The Golden Girls. Best Costume Ever.....

some people think its funny, but its usually wet and runny

i like sharing, and i am going to share some of the virtues of crohn’s disease which takes away my dignity. since my surgery in april, i have been enjoying my remission, including chowing down on past forbidden foods such as salad, cashews, shredded wheat cereal and whole grain breads. by mid august, my body started to reject my new diet, and reminded me that a cut with the knife will not temper its insatiable lust of internal organ self-destruction.

how did my body decide to speak? through nail biting, asshole clenching, raging diarrhea. at first i brushed it off as too much fiber or too much vodka the night before, but when it started waking me up at night i began to suspect crohn’s involvement. then it began to wake me up multiple times at night, with great urgency forcing me to knock things down on route to the bathroom (its hard rushing with a sleepy head and complete darkness but worth not soiling yourself).

and sometimes, while deeply asleep, my body wakes me up to late and i begin to shit myself. just a little, but enough to force me to wash my underwear out at 3 in the morning and frequent enough for me to stuff tissues in my underwear as to not have to wash more underwear out every night.

btw - how does the body know when you are getting closer to a toilet and amp up the need to go even stronger. by the time i unlock the door and run to the toilet, my intestines begin to churn harder and my impulse to crap becomes stronger. the closer i get to the toilet, the stronger the urge – until its impossible for me to grab reading material no less unbutton my pants.

my constant diarrhea and toxic gas has pushed chris to the brink, sitting me down to discuss how I need to go to the doctor. let me tell you, nothing is more humbling than your live-in partner telling you to see a doctor because as he puts it “your farts are worse than when you had blood farts.”

fun crohn’s vocabulary:

blood fart (n.): noxious gas that escapes my body by

first going through my intestinal tract which his full of

stale rotten blood from bleeding sores.

nothing smells worse – nothing. not nyc garbage trucks on an august afternoon, not filled diaper pails, nor sulfur pools. blood farts are at the top of the disgusting odor chart.

one positive side effect is my ass must be in top physically shape – or at least my asshole. there have been so many times that I have to cletch my asshole tightly closed, as not to have an accident during a meeting, walking home, or ironing for that matter, my bunghole must be ready for some type of olympic game. special olympics that is.

as you can plainly see, i needed help and something had to be done. i made an appointment with my guru, dr. silvera, and i am back on humira. thankfully, they have “improved” on the technology and now give you a pen to stick yourself (rather than a needle), which controls the speech in which the medicine is delivered – which is horrifyingly slow. it makes me scream out loud, which is unnerving for anyone in the apartment and i would guess my neighbors, but this is the price you pay not to be on the brink of shitting yourself all day and night.

aren't you glad i share?

autism leads to the new michael phelps

from cnn:

walter marino shouted to his 12-year-old son, christopher, as he drifted farther away in the Atlantic Ocean.

"to infinity," the father yelled.

"and beyond," christopher replied.

an autistic boy who spent 12 hours stranded in the atlantic ocean enjoyed himself during his ordeal, his father told cnn. walter marino said his son doesn't fear death because of his disease and therefore remained calm. walter marino, who was swept out to sea with his son, said he took comfort in christopher's calmness, fostering his own survival. "it was a big entertainment roller coaster for him, that's what got me through it -- because he wasn't freaking out," marino said.

as mr. marino stated, his son doesn't fear death. once mr. marino found the neighborhood boys beating christopher with sticks chanting "rain man, rain man." this was also a proud moment for mr. marino, as christopher didn't show any fear then either. in fact, christopher hardly ever shows any kind of emotion. he just moans and rolled his eyes back in his head. Mr. marino usually can tell when christopher is enjoying something, as his moan becomes more severe - just like the day at the beach when his father lead his fearless son into the ocean and quickly became separated from him. christopher was moaning pretty loud, and mr. marino read this as pleasure, as he is surely correct. kids with autism can not get enough of repetitious activities like treading water or tying and untying shoelaces.

to infinity christopher! said mr. marino.

and beyond (gurgle, moan) says christopher in return, while his eyes roll back in his head.

an beyond, young christopher, and beyond......

sister anna louise

my friend just reminded me of our childhood piano instructor, sister anna louise. i went to a catholic school which still had some nuns teaching children. my mother and aunts would always tell horror stories of nuns beating them with rulers and in general, physically abusing them until they could recite their multiplication tables without using their dirty sinful fingers.

although i didn’t go to catholic school during its rockin’ heyday like my mother did, we still had nuns or sisters who for lack of sanity or pleasure beat the shit out of us for no real reason. one such nun was sister anna louise – our half deaf (i kid you not – she had two hearing aids) music teacher. to earn a little extra green on the side (no doubt to pay for her sexy gray woolen skirts or quite possibly boxing lessons) she taught the privileged kids in my little home town piano. my sister and i were some of those lucky children.

sister anna louise was part of the sisters of st. joseph, whose motto (from their website) is “together, we live, pray, and work for a more just and peaceful world.” sister anna louise’s personal motto was “i must break you.” missing notes on the piano were cause for minor breakdowns for sister anna louise, usually accompanied by a quick slap on the hands or thug on the head. and god bless your little childhood soul if your “hands got lazy” and played with flat fingers or if you didn’t practice until your little 7 year old nails fall out or you held that note a little too long. staccato, staccato! she would screech and slap you on your ear (which by the way really hurts – she would use the open hand approach - much like pol pot). really, i think she taught piano to lend her the opportunity to abuse young children.

anyways, as a child who was just developing this large jar of emotional anger i carry around with me today (which does not lend me to losing weight), i hated her. i still fucking hate her. i don’t really believe in hell, but it comforts me that her willowed old corpse might burn their one day.

my mother use to cart her around town and take her to lunch (i guess she thought she was getting closer to god, and lord knows she needed to burn some bad karma off). i would always get updates from her, which i always responded that i didn’t care. when my mother passed, sr. anna louise came to my mother’s funeral and announced very loudly “she’s gotten much fatter – she was always so fat.” of course being almost completely deaf, she can’t hear herself, but everyone else did.

personally, i can’t believe she is still alive (and she is – my mother’s close friend has now pick up where my mother left off on updates regarding the sadistic cunt and i learned at kara’s wedding sr. anna louise is alive and kicking – most likely a toddler who hasn’t learn to sit up straight). it just goes to show, true hardcore evil doesn’t really die. true hardcore evil lives long enough to make others wipe their asses and change their diapers once again.

where's my transgendered hero?

in fun news from my hometown, a woman drove over 5 people, killing one outside a gay bar in rochester, new york. at about 2am the women (susan arena - anyone know her?) speed into a group of people only to be stopped by our tranny hero, karen ann bills.

karen ann comes to the rescue with her cane, i kid you not, and ax. she throws the ax into the windsheild of the man slaughtering driver and dares her not to move.

bravo karen ann! i especially like the interview she gives with her trusty teddy bear sitting besides her. every super hero needs their sidekick. again, my neighbors suck and only wish i had a karen ann living next to me, in case i ever need her services of an ax.

below is the link to the story (with video on right) of karen ann's proud moment. karen ann does not appear until the end, and it is worth the wait!

http://www.whec.com/article/stories/s541725.shtml?cat=566

how do you say ching chong chinaman in spanish?

it’s funny how overt racism can appear in main media. and i am being completely honest – i think it is hilarious in 2008 when let’s say the spanish olympic basketball team finds it acceptable to give themselves epicanthic folds for a publicity photo at the 2008 beijing olympics. to make it funnier – it includes pau gasol who is not only a star on the lakers but a unicef ambassador.

i find it outrageously funny when the star of mtv's the hills (honestly i don’t watch it, but i do watch the soup which gives me the blow by blow of reality television characters embarrassing themselves week after week) discuss on tyra banks if he were to adopt a child from africa he would call him “dunk,” as in dunk the ball in basketball.

how about adam sandler’s quest to make the most homophobic movie ever – as in i now pronounce you chuck and larry which has two “men” who have to kiss each other (ewwww!) to get health benefits. you know i could make out with a girl for health insurance without needing to wash my mouth out with scope immediately afterwards - hell i do it for 10 bucks. follow up that gem with don’t mess with the zohan, who is a post israeli army hair dresser and insert your own multiple gay jokes here.

finally, one of my favorites is a rochester cine-plex staple of senor nacho, a cartoon figure dressed in a sombrero, green, red and yellow poncho, handlebar mustache and white pants asking you to consider purchasing some gooey orange cheese nachos! andale, andale! arriba, arriba! who creates this? what artists draws this and thinks - oh my god, this is the perfect example of a mexican?

my grandfather used to call my toyota a rice burner. he also called brazilian nuts “nigger toes.” i use to think he was old and only the old are racists/homophobes. my mother uses to recall when “sugar babies” were called “nigger babies” and “einee minee miney moe, catch a nigger by its toe” was the original lyrics to the well known nursery rhythm. she pointed out that these were wrong, she was not as old as my grandfather. my grandfather is long dead, but luckily for humor sake, racism and homophobia are not. although bothered and hard to believe these things happen in this age, it only takes a moment until i laugh at their absurdity. just like the austrian who kept his daughter/mother of his children locked in the basement for a decade, it is the absurdity that makes it funny. strike that, austrians win = much funnier than the spanish ching chong chinaman faces. sorry spain, you must settle for the silver medal....