POP A SMURF
BITCHES AIN'T SHIT BUT HOES AND TRICKS-GANDHI
GENERATION F'D
HOPELESS ROMANTIC SEEKS FILTHY WHORE
CAN'T WE JUST FUCK FOR ONCE? (Spoons)
ARE YOU TIGHTER THAN A 5TH GRADER?
WHY KILL THEM WITH KINDNESS WHEN YOU CAN USE AN AXE?
EVERY TIME YOU SEE A RAINBOW GOD IS HAVING GAY SEX
BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL (BLACK IS THE NAME OF MY HUGE WHITE COCK)
ALL I WANT IS PEACE IN THE MIDDLE EAST (AND A BLOWJOB)
YOUR LITTLE PRINCESS IS MY LITTLE WHORE
SLAVERY GETS SHIT DONE
DISNEY ON ICE
BLING-BLING
FUCKING CLASSY
THIS T-SHIRT IS 100% ORGANIC
NOT TONIGHT LADIES I'M JUST HERE TO GET DRUNK
I FUCKING LOVE TO CUDDLE
WHITE FLOUR
I SHOULD BE IN THE KITCHEN
IF YOU'RE HAPPY AND YOU KNOW IT SHOW ME YOUR TITS

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WORST.GANGBANG.EVER

I hope you all remembered to pay your taxes. On the off chance that you haven't, feel free to claim one of my kids as a dependent. Don't worry, it's not like the Waffle House dumpster can claim it.

Vermont legalized gay marriage last week. You know who's gonna get married now? Every single person in Vermont. Yeah, that doesn't really make sense, but what the fuck, it is Vermont.

A major earthquake recently devastated Italy, killing hundreds and leaving thousands more homeless. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the Mario Brothers, the Boyardees, the Corleones, pizza flippers, and those guys who play music while a little monkey gathers change.

Madonna's most recent attempt to adopt a child from Malawi was stopped when the child's biological father came forward to claim ownership. "Oh no," said Madonna. "Where will I ever find another poor black kid?"

The Hannah Montana movie hit theaters last weekend. On a related note, it was recently announced that every single movie critic in the world is an atheist.

Last week it was announced that Farrah Fawcett's cancer had spread to her liver. I could give a shit about her, but I am a little worried that this will inspire a bunch of hot chicks to shave their heads to retain that Farrah-Do. Also, I'm having a hell of a time adding a heart rate monitor and an I.V. tube to my poster.

Baseball season is underway. There are some interesting rule changes this year. For starters, all outfielders are allowed to carry crossbows to deal with unruly fans; successfully raping an umpire can overturn a call; and during the sixth inning of every game, three silverback gorillas will be released onto the field. Just kidding. It's still really boring.

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picture 1

Well, it's too late for me to half-ass my way through some list of Easter tips, but I still wanted to use this space to acknowledge the holiday that is so special to those of us who love to see peaceful men get tortured and killed. So instead of the usual list of arbitrary nonsense, I thought I'd share with you a detailed account of my Easter Sunday.*

*Note: For purposes of having a full length article, this will be made up, instead of the factual "Got drunk on Saturday night and slept through it."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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7:07 a.m.

I wake up early to bake the cherry pie I prepared the night before. Upon looking in the fridge I realize I ate three quarters of it raw while baked out of my mind. If that isn't bad enough, I look in my bed and realize Kiki is still passed out, possibly dead. I have my doorman wipe her down and dump her in an alley a couple miles away.

8:32 a.m.

All bakeries are closed, so I go to a convenience store and get the closest thing to cherry pie I can find. After grabbing a box of Little Debbie's Swiss Rolls and a bottle of cherry-flavored Pepto-Bismol I make my way to the counter. I notice the cashier is Middle Eastern. I shout "Terrorist go home!", shove over a rack of novelty shot glasses and run out without paying.

picture 110:02 a.m.

Arrive at what I believe to be my parents’ house. I knock on the door and a small white child without bruises answers. I quickly realize I'm at the wrong house. Remembering my biological father's advice of "Whitey need some bruises!", I punch the child repeatedly and leave in a hurry.

11:08 a.m.

Needing to relieve some tension, I lure a junkie into my car with false promises of meth. After sitting in my apartment for ten minutes, he slowly begins to realize no meth is coming. His lifestyle has left him strung out and jittery, so he is easy enough to subdue with my "Drifter Club." As I dance around the fireplace wearing his skin, I feel the stress of the day just melt away. I decide to give this Easter one more chance.

1:36 p.m.

I arrive at my parents' home too late to enjoy the traditional Easter brunch, but am just in time to help my nephews and nieces hunt for eggs. We are ten minutes into the hunt before I recall tying up my family in a barn and burning them alive several years earlier. More disconcerting than who these people are is why they would let a scantily clad black woman search for eggs with their children. Perhaps their cushy, suburban lifestyle has left them so numb to any emotion they don't even care.

picture 12:43 p.m.

After managing to stuff seventeen Easter eggs into my vagina, I improvise a little egg-dispensing show for the kids. I even inspire one little four-year-old girl to emulate the act. After she receives several vaginal stitches she is returned home. It's getting late, so we decide to wrap up the day's festivities. I ask if they would be kind enough to indulge me and participate in one of my old family traditions. They kindly oblige and we take turns stuffing Peeps into the asshole of the fattest person there.

7:19 p.m.

I arrive back at my place. While cleaning up bits of junkie I had forgotten about earlier, it dawns on me why this holiday is so special. Sure, the junk food, Spring time, and brightly colored decorations are great. As is knowing a Jew got whipped into a bloody pile of goo by a bunch of Romans. But what really makes this day great is family. I decide that next year, I'll pay the team of midgets I use as sled dogs to dress up and act like my old family. Then I remove a couple of Easter eggs I had forgotten about, masturbate twice, and go to bed. All in all, a pretty goddamn special Easter.


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