The Early February Thing

I hope everyone had a good April Fool's Day. I pulled one hell of a prank on my sister. I don't want to get into details, but suffice it to say, she can never bear children.

In case any of you missed it, March was a big month for cancer. First it was announced that presidential candidate John Edwards' wife had a recurrence of breast cancer. Then, only a few days later, it was reported that White House press secretary Tony Snow's cancer had returned and spread to his liver and other parts of his body. So I'd just like to say congratulations to cancer. Continued success in the months to come.

Before I move on, I'd just like to remind everyone that Easter is coming up on Sunday. I know it was recently proven that Jesus never actually existed, but let's celebrate for old times' sake. Happy hunting, kids!

It's Howdy Doody Time...


New Shirts

You've been not praying and not praying, and your unprayers have finally been answered. Our latest batch of shirts has arrived.

This group contains a shirt that deals with oral sex and several other shirts which deal with far less important things. Anyway, don't let me ruin the surprise for you. You can view these shirts with your very own eyes via the magic of the internet.

All of our new shirts are here:


Cause food is for pussies.

CNN recently reported that hobo killings are on the rise among teenagers. For entertainment, teens are savagely beating homeless men and leaving them for dead. What an appalling waste of human life. A travesty. Don't get me wrong, the homeless should be killed, but let's not waste good hobo. Do you have any idea how much a bum's kidney goes for on Craigslist? They don't grow on trees, you know. (Unless you live in Courtney Love's drug-addled head, where I hear that kind of shit happens).

No no no no, this ain't no Planet of no ApesListen, we've all killed our fair share of transients. A homeless guy once asked me for change - well, he didn't actually ask, but he might have - so I shot him. In situations like that, you sometimes have to act preemptively. But I never would have dreamed of leaving him to rot. Instead, I carved him up, made some quick cash, got a few kick-ass Halloween decorations out of the deal, and ate like a king for weeks. My message to the kids is simply this: Waste not, want not, you little fuckers.

How do we account for the recent surge in senseless hobo killings? I blame television. Not because programming is too violent. To the contrary, it's not nearly violent enough. If kids had something good and bloody to watch on TV, do you think they'd need to kill hobos for fun? Today's teens may be bloodthirsty butchers, but who can blame them? There's nothing good on TV anymore. One more season of American Idol, and I might have to kill just to feel alive.

With that said, I'd like to share an anecdote that might put a human face on this issue.

I recently observed a homeless man combing his hair in the reflection of a shop window. For ten minutes, he carefully preened himself, taking great pride in his appearance. I finally said to him, "Your pants are soaked with urine, stained with what appears to be chocolate, and you smell like a sweaty nutsack. Does it really matter at this point if a hair or two is out of place?" It was a touching moment, to say the least, and I think we both took something from it.

Stunt Bums For JesusAfter that, we got to talking about our life experiences. He told me about his tour in Vietnam, how his entire platoon was slaughtered before his eyes. "Do you know what it's like to watch helplessly as your best friends die?" he asked. His eyes filled with tears. I put a hand on his shoulder. "I think I do," I said. "I think I do." Then I told him about the time I played paintball with some buddies, and how we got totally ambushed by a bunch of fourth-graders. Sucked big time.

Before we parted ways, I looked my new friend in the eye, shook his hand, and thanked him. I thanked him for teaching me that just because hobos shit and piss themselves without shame, that doesn't make them any less human. That doesn't mean they don't have feelings and friends who love them. That doesn't mean their lives are any less sacred than yours or mine. With that in mind, I said goodbye and smoked the fucker.

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