Jesus and his Unwed Mothers

If there is one thing I hate more than children, it’s teen mothers. Mothers being a loose term. These overgrown toddlers and their active reproductive systems are killing America. Screw the terrorists, forget about global warming, pregnant fourteen year olds are doing the most damage to this country of entitled assholes and it’s all Jesus’ fault.  While some may disagree with the fact that Jesus would stand for such sluttery, they’re wrong.  Jesus is all about the whores.  Why do you think he has good Christian ladies passing out his business cards to hookers? He’s not trying to build up the congregation; he’s making sure he gets some dirty sluts knocking on the pearly gates. Even heavenly beings love a good blow job. However, I’ve gotten sidetracked, back to the knocked up kids and why Jesus is to blame.

      1.       Abortion IS the Answer: forget what those pro-life morons are shouting as you head into the abortion clinic with the paper bag over your head, abortion is the choice for you! It’s kinda funny when you think about; your 14 year old acne ridden face was covered with that same bag the night you conceived little bastard baby, and now you get to recycle that brown contraption to get rid of fucked up fetus number one. For some reason, church folks seem to think abortion is wrong, some even call it murder. However, abortion is not wrong, abortion is the answer. No fourteen year old on the planet is ready to be a mother. Be it a doctor with a vacuum, Delilah Dandypants with her metal hanger and panel van, or a kind stranger and shove down the stairs, it’s my mission to rid the world of these uterus squatters. Not every child is a miracle from Jesus… some are mistakes from Trojan. Besides, I know many people whose finest moment would have been a third trimester abortion…with a weak vacuum head sucker. Ahhh! The sound of skulls crushing is music to my ears; it makes my heart skip a beat. So, forget what the Jesus freaks say, head to the nearest clinic or dark alley and go back to living your ignorant teenage life, filled with Keystone Light, football games, and finger fucking under the bleachers.

 

      2.       Baby Killing Pills: Aka birth control. I think those grape juice drinking Catholics are still against birth control, and for that I would like to blame Jesus Christ and all his minions. However, my main issue is with parents and I find that religious parents are the WORST. Some idiotic middle aged bible thumpers have this stupid idea that putting their child on birth control means giving her permission to have sex. Let me tell you something, I don’t care if little Susanna is the picture of virtue in your eyes, she’s still fucking for lollipops at the movie theater on Friday night. Do yourself a favor, give the girl a magic pill, or shot, or patch. Pick one! Anything’s better than a freaking baby. Also, when she gives birth at the father/daughter purity dance, don’t judge her too harshly. It’s very difficult to pop out a baby in a public restroom, especially in heels.

      3.       The Immaculate Conception: Can I just say that Mary ruined it for everyone. No one else can use that line again, talk about selfish. However, it makes me wonder does J.C.’ s spunk have the baby making power?  Since he was the super special anti sex baby, it stands to reason that his little swimmers aren’t really swimming. Talk about a safe screw. I bet all the preteen angels are lining up to ride that mystical manmeat. Actually, it’s probably the thirty something angels. Kiddie angels don’t think about things like a guy shooting blanks or if he has the money to pay for an abortion. Believe it or not, the church frowns upon stealing money from the collection plate to pay for your illegitimate child’s new home in a Ziploc bag. Personally, I think it’s a great investment. Especially since good ol’ Mary gave you the idea and the pastor was the first guy that touched your special spot. 

  

    That Damn Jesus. Such a troublemaker! I think it's become very clear that we need to get rid of him. I recommend another cross and maybe some fire. It worked for the witches....

Tick Tock Taser: Your Days Are Numbered

I’ve always wanted a taser. Something powerful and zappy, overflowing with unfulfilled promise, just waiting to be placed in the hands of someone who understands its potential for pain, degradation, and above all else, humor. However, I am the type of person who should NEVER EVER be given such an enticing device…as evidenced by the contents of this list. My current “To Taser” list contains about 48 things, ranging from specific people, groups of people, animals, and even a few inanimate objects, but it’s mainly children and assholes. As of 3 am on Sunday morning, these are my top 5 taserworthy jerkanoodles.

 

             1.  Jesus:  Would it even work? What if the electricity coursing through his nonexistent body depleted him of his magical powers? If he was hanging on the cross, would the nails act as conductors and intensify his experience? Maybe he’d like it; Jizzy Christ, the kinkster. I wonder how different the bible would be if good ol’ JC felt the zap of the taser. I bet that whole “love thy neighbor” bullshit would be cut. Maybe some scripture about obeying the blonde girl with the buzzing toy would be added. Aaaaand we’re back to kinky.   

            2.  Girl Scouts or any other child organization that gathers outside the grocery store to sell you cookies/popcorn/arsenic laced baked goods. These little bitches and bastards really piss me off. For starters, who decided it was a good idea to sell food outside of a FOOD STORE? What sense does that make? You have cookies, so does the grocery store. Plus, I don’t have to pretend to care about the grocery store’s cookie badge. Here’s a marketing tip: sell your cookies outside of a gym, hospital cafeteria, or funeral home. Grieving people tend to find comfort in food. Also, why are these little fuckers so aggressive? Stop pouncing on people. All you do is make me want to say extremely mean things to you. My goal is to give you a complex so you grow up with a social defect and possibly an eating disorder. I think we can all agree that tasing your overzealous ass is the more humane choice. Down kiddie.

           3.  Cat Owners (And your feline companions): First, let me clarify. I DO NOT mean jungle cats ie: tigers, lions, cheetahs etc (totes adorbs!), I DO mean tabby cats, black cats, and all cats named Mr. Piddles. Honestly, I shouldn’t blame the cats, but I do. They’re pompous and predatory, the very worst kind of animal. I also don’t trust any pet that has to have its claws removed for your safety. No. Thank. You.  I didn’t think it was possible, but cat owners are worse than cats. Cat owners talk to their cats in little baby voices while the offending animal purrs back as if a real conversation is taking place. Cat people have furniture that is caked in cat hair and littered with little mouse brass bell toys. Oh! And somewhere in their house, there is a litter box. It’s filled with dried up cat shit. As if all of this wasn’t bad enough, cat owners always own at least one article of clothing with a picture of a cat on it. It’s as though they feel the need to advertise their poor pet choices and lack of social skills. If you ever see someone with a picture of a pussy on his shirt, run the other way. It’s either a douchebag or a cat owner; neither will end well for you. 

                    4.     All teenage boys with an affinity for skinny jeans. I’m not exactly sure when raiding your seven year old sister’s closet became an acceptable practice, but someone needs to put an end to this madness. Not only do your jeans appear to cut off circulation and inevitably force me to ponder your underwear situation which leaves me feeling like Mary Kay Letourneau without the teaching degree, BUT I want every one of you to know that there is not a single girl in the world interested in seeing the outline of your prepubescent penis. It’s just sad.

a.       Any grown man who deems it appropriate to wear skinny jeans. Stop it. I will tase you just to see you piss in your too tight denim. I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to remove urine soaked skinny jeans, but I will laugh SO hard as you hop around trying to take off your clichéd Converse before your rancid pee infects your precious shoes. Just so you know, the moment you are almost free of your pee pants, I will tase you again. This will make you fall down and break your fake geek hipster glasses, maybe chip a tooth. I will find this hysterical and tase you one more time for good measure. Thanks for participating.

b.      For those over 30 who rock skinny jeans AND Justin Bieber hair:  The taser is not enough. I recommend the electric chair. Don’t worry, that convicted murderer on death row has been waiting around for twelve years and is more than willing to give up his seat. Nice guy.

         5.   Michael J. Fox: It’s very simple; would he shake more or less?  Support your local Parkinson’s Foundation; those little twitchers need all the money their shaky hands can handle.

   Ahhh and to think this is just the beginning! More to come...
 

   NOTE: This list is updated frequently and could change at any time based on the author's current state of mind and general annoyance with the world.

A Non-Introduction

I hate introductions. Whether it was the first day of school obligatory “what’s your name and what did you do this summer” speech, the new job “I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes on my first day” handshake and smile, the first date “I hope you’re not a serial killer/stalker/codependent nail biter, but if you are you’re a cute one” awkwardness, or the this is my blog “does it really matter who I am” paragraph, I hate them all. 

Introductions require effort, not much effort, but more than I’m willing to give. In real life there’s the smile, the handshake, fist bump, hug, maybe even a crotch grab depending on the number of alcoholic beverages at the time of the meet ‘n’ greet. However, on the internet in Blogville it’s a little more complex. The first post should set the tone, tell people who you are, illustrate your ability to spell and utilize semi proper grammar, and maybe convey the general purpose of your blog. If you were to follow this formula, you would see that my blog is…….not so much a failure, more like an underachiever. 

However, in an effort to appease the masses (by masses I mean the six people silly enough to skim this) and because I have what several therapists have described as an ‘obsessive need to follow the rules,’ I will provide a numbered list that details all of the necessary information for the ‘who am I’ introductory blog post.

1.       The tone of my blog is simple, heartfelt, compassionate, uplifting and most of all, none of these things.

2.       Who am I? Look to the right, there’s a box entitled “About Me” lurking around. You’re welcome.

3.       I can’t spell. Spell check is the only reason this post isn’t littered with creatively constructed words. I also make up a lot of words, don’t know how to properly place commas, and spout off random phrases that don’t make much sense.

4.       This blog is my way of giving back to the world. It is my hope that everyone who reads my magical words will be forever changed and go on to lead productive, non-annoying lives. Lives filled with beautiful rainbows and captivating sun dances. Or it’s a method for me to unleash my madness. I’ll let you pick. Hey! Look at that! I’m interactive. Only on the internet. 

So. This is my blog or rather this is the non-introduction of my blog. The fun stuff comes later. Assuming there is fun stuff. I make no promises.