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Thursday, August 25, 2005
All this Pat Robertson and assassination talk got me thinking.
"In 1972 a crack prayer team was sent to prison by a military court for a sin they didn't commit. These men promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire the 700 club."
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14 comments:
The character of Murdoch was modeled after a ventriloquist dummy I made out of wax and a dead indians lower intestine.
That's a true motherfucking story.
Now stop frontin' and give me some GODDAMN CREDIT.
And get the Goddamn taps off the phone.
I swear to God, I'm coming over there right now, Jiggs Casey.
Do you fucking hear me?
Now I'm fucking lost. What state are you in again?
Goddamn this whiskey.
And Goddamn you.
Why was I coming over there again?
I get off on these things and forget my purpose.
Did you punch my dad in the face, push him down a flight of stairs, then pee on him?
Because if that's why we're fighting, then just get the fuck ready because as soon as I figured out what state I'm in and what state you're in, your ass is going down.
Wait -- which site is this one?
Are you that Carl Spackler dude or the girl?
OK, sorry. I just passed out.
But I've had a Mountain Dew and a bunch of crank now.
What were we fighting about?
I'm sorry.
Seriously ... let me touch your ass.
Let's just forget the whole thing.
OK, OK, OK. Wait. Which one of you dumb motherfuckers punched me in the face?
You chipped my Goddamn tooth, you asshole.
Seriously ... I don't know what's goiing on here. yeah, sure ... maybe I took some pills earlier tonight, but I don't think that give you the right to take advantage of me like that.
Did you slip me a fuckng Rohypnol? Booty? What the fuck is going on here.
Who the fuck is tapping my phone?
What do you think, you're playing with children here?
OK, now I'm locked out of my house ... and it's fucking raining.
This fucking Atkins diet is starting to get to me.
I've had three heart attacks in the past three years.
Not really.
Seriously, I eat what the fuck I want.
Who's got my money?
I had some things when I came over here tonight, but now I don't.
Who are all these people commenting here?
Do you guys hate Pat Robertson or something?
Do you hate America?
What are you? Communists? Terrorists? French? Negores?
Why do you hate black people?
Why do you hate me?
I'm not black, by the way. I'm just very dark skinned and tan.
Wait, wait.
What's that smell?
Is someone baking cookies in here?
Tasty? Are those chcolate chips?
OK.
Wait.
I'm not syaing I took a bunch of opiates. But if I did, would I be welcome here?
I have diarrhea.
I think.
Can you shit out of your mouth? because I think that's what's going on here.
No, no, no. It's not that I'm lost. I just can't find MY blog.
I had it with me when I came in here.
But now I don't.
Seriously, I'm not accusing. I'm not judging. And I'm not blaming.
But come on. A whole fucking blog? Missing? Just like that?
Someone tell me what's going on here.
Please?
Who turned out the lights? It's so dark.
So cold.
I'm a little scared.
Who the fuck are all these guys with all the blacked out faces? They're starting to freak me out.
Man, I can't believe how busy your blog is tonight.
Sseriously, how do you get all this traffic?
Everyone just calm down. He does this every once in a while. It's nothing to worry about. Once he gets his medicine he'll be fine. He'll go to sleep, and then we can get back to punching him in the face, tapping his phone and feeding him cookies spiked with mouth laxatives.
With respect to the amount of traffic we get on here, it's just a bunch of douchebags. There I said it.
Bless you, friends of McDougal. Bless you.
yo, jiggs -- check your e-mail.
I've sent you an offer you can't refuse.
douchebags?
thats the last time i let you have a hot lunch with me.
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