The Last Will and Testiment of Minigan Douglas Blackwood

Listen, folks. I’m not going to be around forever. I know; this really sucks for you. But this is something that you will just have to accept. But to help you get through, I decided to let everyone know what they will be getting from my will when I die. Now, I don’t expect to die for some time, so I decided write my will in advance because I don’t want to deal with it later. And I don’t ever have any intention of editing this, so I’ll be making assumptions about my future. Good luck to you all.
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The Last Will and Testiment of Minigan Douglas Blackwood
I, Lord Minigan Douglas Blackwood Esq., Doctor of Awesome, being of sound mind and body (“Sound Mind” being a relative phrase here), do bequeath the my worldly possessions to the following:
To my current wife, I am giving you the greatest gift I can give anyone: an eternity with me. You are to be euthanized, stuffed, and placed in my tomb. I have already picked out a taxidermist and the position you will forever be posed. You will be butt naked and posed like a roaring bear. And if for some crazy reason you don’t want to be stuffed and placed in my tomb, I have advised my butler, Geoffrey, to hit you with a tranquilizer dart. Get her now Geoffrey.
To Geoffrey I give you your reparations for the years of loyal service. Since you worked for me for the past thirty years without pay, the total should come to twelve hundred dollars. This will not be adjusted for inflation. Also, as my last gift to you, I shall return your family to you. Now that I am gone, I do not need leverage to keep you working for me. I thank you for all of your hard work and also for not poisoning me over all these years. (Note: If Geoffrey was responsible for my death in any way, I want his family killed by either suffocation with hot tar or heavy metal poisoning.

That’s close, but not exactly what I was talking about.

To my ex-wives Sheila, Bethany, Yau Kim, and Francesca, I leave each of you a house and a camera crew for your own reality TV program. Please note that I said one house and one camera crew. You will be sharing the house, and the show will be about you four living together and trying to get over the fact that I dumped your asses for one another. The house you will be living in is my mansion off the cost of Barcelona, Spain. You know, the one where I proposed to each one of you. You will also aquire the area around the house: the mile of beach, the golf course that I had built as part of my, “building golf courses” phase, and the small town there all the servants work. Also, I will have a wax replica of my current wife placed in each bedroom. I know how much you ladies loved her (spitting at someone is a term of endearment, right?), so I hope that this makes up for the fact that you’ll never see her again after today. If grief over comes you and you try to get rid of the statues, You’ll be thrown in the cobra pit that will be installed on site. I have signed a contract with VH1 (I tried Bravo, but none of my gay friends wanted to be secondary characters on a reality TV show), and have given them $500,000 for a 5 year run. You cannot back out of this, because you agreed to this when you signed the divorce papers (I snuck the clause in there at the last second), and if you back out, then you get taxidermied and stuffed into my tomb as well. But do not think that you will not get paid for being on the show! Everything will be paid for, from your food, to the utilities, to the topless wait staff, and you will receive $10,000 per episode. I don’t know if that’s good or not; I just pulled a number out of my ass. After the 5 years are up, and if you were entertaining enough to warrant a sixth season, it will be your choice to decide if you want to continue the show. If you, out of spite, try to force the show off the air, I have given permission to VH1 to find horrible things to do to you four in order to keep things interesting. The friendly folks at VH1 are pretty fucked up, so you might want to keep things interesting (They’re planning a sprinkler system that sprays out tarantulas).
To my Children: Journey, Salamander, Gatorade, Chlamydia, and Ω I leave you half of my remaining monetary estate, the Blackwood Estate (or as you know it, the mansion you grew up in), as well as any of the profits that come from my book sales. There is, however, a catch. You will be locked in the house and you will have to fight to the death. The winner will be named as my primary benefactor. Also, all of the illegitimate children I had over the years (upwards of 50) will also be locked in the house with you. Only one can be crowned the winner, and he/ she will be the smartest, bravest, and strongest of them all. This may sound familiar to you, and that’s because that is essentially the premise of The Hunger Games novels, which I made you read and watch the movies because I totally played Finnick Odair in the movies. Yes, I did rip off The Hunger Games for this, but it only seems fair seeing as though that was how I became rich and famous in the first place. If you were a clever child and discovered my secret passage ways around the estate, then you have a severe advantage over everyone else, but be warned: If you try to leave the estate through the escape passage, you will be shot dead. No child of mine will be a cheater. Also, you will not be allowed to use outside weapons. The only kind of killing device you will be permitted to use will be the ones you find around the estate. Luckily for one of you, the trident that I used in the movie will still be in the house, so who ever reaches it first will be able to use it. And be careful! I also have set up booby traps. I wish each of you good luck, and I hope that you use this notice to prepare yourselves for the oncoming battle and not to run and hide, because that will spell you imminent and painful demise.
To my dearest friend James T. Kohlberg, I would like to apologize for not actually knowing what your middle name is, so I just guessed with the T. I like to think that it stands for Tiberius. Anyway, I want to thank you for coming out of your shack in the woods to be at my funeral and will reading. If I were alive, I’d hug you. Anyway, to you I give every single one of my expansive weapon collection. Everything from the aforementioned trident, to my lightning sword, to the machete you gave me, to my zombie club. However, you cannot have any of these until after all of my children have fought to the death. Once the winner has been named, the weapons will be collected and given to you. Please note that I would give you a significant portion of my monetary estate, however, due to your recent voluntary exile from society, that money would be useless to you. Instead, I am giving you a 200 acre patch of wilderness that will be entirely yours to hunt, fish, trap as you see fit. This will be a fenced in area, and no one will be permitted access. If, by chance, a person does break into your woods, then you can decide the punishment for said trespasser. That means that if you want to make said woman/ man/ child your wife, you are well within your rights to do so. You’re welcome.
I would like my third home: my castle in Germany, to be a museum dedicated to me. All of my important artifacts (or replicas of some, like my trident) will be housed there. As for the rest of my houses and belongings, it may be divided amongst my family and friends. I would like $10,000 to be saved from my estate, along with what belongings of mine that nobody claims. Of the $10,000, half of it should be spent on food. Then all of it should be placed in a large pile in some lower class neighborhood and set on fire. I want this done so that the poor hilariously try to salvage some of the burning things that they so desperately need. That should teach them a lesson about messing with the rich.
And that is my Last Will and testament. I don’t know how these end, so I’ll end it with a song lyric that seems fitting:

“Everybody stops and they staring at me
I got passion in my pants and I ain’t afraid to show it, show it, show it, show it

I’m sexy and I know it”-LMFAO

True poets

Peace (for me)

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THIS MUST BE EXCITING BECAUSE IT’S IN ALL CAPS!!!!!!

I am merely writing this so that WordPress believes that I have posted a for realz blog post this month. Suck on that WordPress- You don’t know me!

Anyway, if you were at all upset that I have not posted anything in the past month, I apologize. But, since I think it’s safe to assume that you don’t give a goddamn about my blog, then all I have to say is Fuck you. For for all 2 of you who do give a damn, I have been temporarily out of ideas for blogs as well as spending my time writing novels, therefore this blog has taken a backseat. I WILL, however, have more to come.

But for now

peace

Also, Thundercock says “hello.”

Awesomesquad Assemble! 4: Mark of the Oil Beast

Before I get started, I would like to let Chris Thorn know that he does not need to waste those precious few moments he has left in his sad, decrepit life by reading my blog. Chris, since I am giving you the option to go, I do not want to hear any shit from you about me wasting your life.  I hope you enjoy the time I am giving back to you and can only expect that you will use that time to facebook stalk me. Also, I would check my grammar, but fuck you.

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The hallway was dark, quiet, and deserted. On one end, a group of leaders of the terrorist organization known as” Murderhorn,” gathered together. They pointed their AK-47s into the black, shooting at whatever movement they hallucinate. One of the men was attempting to pick the lock and break into the room closest to them. On the other end of the hallway, around the corner, a group of badasses armed to the teeth with custom weaponry was planning their next move. A black-haired man wearing guy liner, a pair of tight fitting jeans, and a leather vest was standing up against the wall next to a woman in full body armor. She has more firepower on her than a fireworks shop owner with a score to settle. The terrorists broke through the doors and rushed in, closing the doors behind them. The terrorists left behind a group of five heavily armed thugs to buy some time.

Our two mysterious figures concealed in the dark looked to the opposing wall, where two of their team members are also concealed. The man in the front, wearing a white cloak and a camelback hydration system(product placement), turned to the man behind him and said, “Everett, you blind them, and I will run up and fuck their shit up.” he then continued to the rest of the team, “Once I have them distracted, you three will run up and engage them. They will show no mercy, so don’t expect or give any.”

He crouched down and quickly, but silently moved forward. When he was almost within sight of the group guarding the door, a small cube flew through the air, over the head of the cloaked man, and towards the thugs. They watched as the cube fell into the middle of them and exploded into a flash of blinding white light. The men stumbled around for a second or two before regaining the use of their eyes. When they did, the man in the white cloak was standing perfectly still in the center of the circle the bad guys had formed. The armed thugs pointed their fully automatic guns at the cloaked individual  and began to fire.

The cloaked man grabbed the barrel of one of the man’s guns, pulled it past him, and then grabbed onto the gun holder’s shoulder and firing hand from behind. The other thugs shot at the cloaked man, but the bullets merely hit their comrade. The cloaked man, used his human shield’s gun to shoot at the other thugs, taking out one of them. The other three members of the cloaked man’s team came forward and quickly dispatched of the remaining guards using their own style of combat. The woman using Tai Kwon Do, the man in the leather vest using magic(not the really gay magic, only the slightly gay kind), and Everett using wrist mounted flame throwers.

“OK,” Everett said with a breath of relief, “Now to get through the door.”

The man in the cloak looked to the woman and asked, “Would you mind doing the honor, Lady Caggiano?”

“Certainly,” Lady Caggiano stated as she walked up to the door. She landed one solid kick on the door knob, and the door exploded like something out of a Michael Bay movie, fire and all. The team ran through the gaping hole where the door used to be to see one terrorist, a woman in a black catsuit and wire rimmed glasses, standing guard at the door on the opposite end of the room, ready to kick some ass.

Sarah Palin?

The leader of the group took a sip from his camelback hydration system (product placement), and ran at the  woman. The woman instinctively shot at him. The bullets, although making their mark, only slowed the progress of the man in the cloak slightly. By the time he reached her, she had shot her last bullet, and was frantically attempting to reload. One swift roundhouse kick from the cloaked man knocked the gun from her hand, out of her reach and unloaded. She was basically fucked at this point.

She did a backflip or two to get away from the cloaked man, and then set herself in a defensive position (which is not a sexual position, but more of a fighting one). All the while, making those weird noises that one usually associates with a white person doing karate.

The man in the cloak strode towards her and said, “I am not afraid to hit a woman.” He then produced his pole arm that for some reason was unnoticeable until just then, and buried its blade in her stomach.

She looked at him as if he had just insulted her and said, “But I can see Russia from my house!”

The cloaked man replied, “I don’t care,” and forced the woman off of his pole arm with his foot. She fell to a crumpled and very dead heap on the floor.

His teammates walked up from behind him, Lady Caggiano glaring at him.

“What,” he asked.

“You’re not afraid to hit a woman?” Lady Caggiano snapped.

“Holyshit, that was actually Sarah Palin!” The man in the leather vest exclaimed, staring at the dead woman on the floor.

“ But I didn’t hit her,” the cloaked man pointed out, “I penetrated her with my justice stick.”

“No, seriously guys, this is actually Sarah Palin. Thunder, you killed her!” The man in the leather vest continued.

Lady Caggiano replied hotly, “First of all, I really think it is a bad idea to make domestic abuse jokes to the people who we know control the media. And secondly, that sounded so dirty.”

“Ok, you two, calm down,” Everett stated, “We need to get through these doors and apprehend these terrorists.”

“Am I the only one who finds it weird that there was just a joke, not even 400 words ago that pointed out her resemblance to Sarah Palin, and it actually turns out to be Sarah Palin? What the fuck?” the man asked.

“Shut up, Criss,” Thunder snapped, “You’re breaking the fourth wall again. I don’t care if you are magic, stop doing that, it creeps us all out. Oh, and what did I fucking say about that hair? Put your Goddamn fedora back on.”

Seriously, you look like an asshole.

Criss Angel silently obeyed, and the group moved closed in on the door. On the other side, they heard the frantic whisperings of the remaining terrorists.

“C’mon,” Thunder commanded, “We need to defeat these douchebags and save their hostage so that we can get back to base and get wasted!” Thunder then raised his fist to the air, and called out, “KAPLAH!!!”

“KAPLAH!!!” the other team members called out in unison.

They all stepped away from the door and Everett raised his fist at the door. There was the sound of a faint click, and a grappling hook shot from the reel on the back of his hand and embedded itself in the double doors. With a slight jerk back from Everett, the doors were ripped from their frame and flew over the teams heads. The door was followed by a hail of gunfire. The grappling hook released its grip from the door and Everett and the rest of the team took cover.

Thunder looked over to Criss. “You got this?” he asked in a whisper.

Criss simply nodded, sat quietly with his eyes closed for a second, and then moved to the door way. He raised both of his arms, and started walking forward. The bullets aggressively flew at him, but every single one that hit him passed through without leaving so much as a bruise. With a flick of the wrist, the bullets’ trajectories shifted, and now orbited Criss.  After moving a few feet closer to the shooters, he let both of his hands drop, and the bullet-satellites launched themselves at their former masters. The men dropped to the ground as lead-filled heaps of death. Criss turned to face his teammates, put a smirk on his face, and flicked them the devil horns.

“Oh, thank God you have arrived Awesomesquad!” a voice cried from the corner. A voice, which the entire group was disappointed to realize that belonged to a man and not an attractive brunette named Olivia Wilde. A blond man sporting a flesh colored beard and some soiled, expensive looking clothes came crawling out of a dark corner in a similar fashion to Gollum’s way of walking.

“Holy shit,” Criss cried out, “Is that Spencer Pratt?!?!”

what a douche

“Yea, I’m fucking Spencer Pratt,” the hostage snapped, “Who the fuck would I be, not the most important person on the face of the planet? Get with the game, retard.”

Lady Caggiano, whose mothering instinct suddenly kicked in, rushed over to the crawling douche-bag and asked, “Omigosh, are you OK?”

“Yea I’m fine,” Spencer replied, “They slapped me around and made me wear a dress, but other than that I’m ok”. “I am hungry though,” he continued, “Does anybody have anything to eat?” He looked at Lady Caggiano again, closer this time, and followed her form from her legs to her chest and back down again. “You got a nice set of legs on you, baby,” he added in what he thought was a seductive voice, “I wouldn’t mind chewing on them. PPPPPUUUUUURRRRRRRR!”

The look of caring melted from Lady Caggiano’s face, and she replied flatly, “Chew on this.” She raised her revolver, whom she calls “Ole Shooty Killy” and drove a bullet into Spencer’s brain. He drops back to the ground like the dead log that his personality has reflected for his entire life. “What?” She said as she looked to the rest of the group. That was not the feminist in me that did that, it was the part of me that hates Spencer Pratt, which is actually all of me.”

Thunder replied, “Hey, if we would have had the chance to kill him, we would have, so don’t sweat it.” He turned to the entire group as he continued, “See, this is why we had that catchy one-liner seminar. Good work, Lady Caggiano. Very catchy indeed.”

“Thank You, Thunder,I am pretty awesome, aren’t I?” Lady Caggiano replied. “But I think we should look around and see what these members of Murderhorn had with them,” she then suggested.

Thunder nodded, “Good idea, see if they have any cash on them. I like it.” The three men started to rummage through the pockets of the disceased, a flicker of greed in their eyes.”

“That’s not what I meant by seeing what they had with them,”  Lady Caggiano said in a mildly disgusted voice, “but since you guys seem so intent on stealing from the dead, I CALL DIBS ON SPENCER PRATT’S WALLET!!!”

This call was met by groans from the three men, but  groans quickly died and the four continued on. However, the groans resumed when Lady Caggiano pulled out $500 from the douchebag’s wallet. After several minutes, and collecting at least a thousand dollars worth of spoils, the group as a whole turned to a lone briefcase near one of the leader’s bodies. Thunder opened it, and its contents spilled to the floor. The papers, which all seemed to be important terroristy documents, shared a particular symbol on the top right corner of every page. Our group of heroes gasped unanimously, for they instantly recognized the symbol and the company it belonged to. They stared at the yellow and green symbol in amazement until the bottom of the briefcase, which Thunder was still holding, fell out, and revealed a digital clock counting down towards zero. 1:00, :59, :58…

The feeling that some serious shit was about to hit the fan dropped into Thunder’s stomach as he realized what it was. “BOMB! RUUUNNNNN!!!!”

The four teammates left the suitcase bomb and the crucial documents on the floor as the dashed out of the room and back through the other room and hallway. Thunder, who was bringing up the rear, grabbed one lone document with the symbol on it, lifted his wrist to right in front of his face, and commanded, “Jesse, get the Awesomeplane! started, and bring it around front. This place is going to blow!” :45, :44, :43…

A voice on the other end replied, “Ok, we will be waiting for you.”

The group picked up their pace, and lept over the dead bodies of all of the thugs they killed. As Thunder lept over one body, its hand reached up and attached itself to his ankle, bringing the leader crashing to the earth with an “AAARRRGGGGHHHH!”:22, :21…

His teammates stopped to help him, but Thunder cried, “Just go!”

With a slight hesitation,the group once again ran for their lives towards the exit. The man who was by all accounts not dead, climbed on top of Thunder, pinning Thunder’s hands against the floor,  pulled out his Baretta and aimed it at our hero’s head. “Prepare to die, you bloody wanker.” The man said in a British accent (duh). :15, :14…

Just as the man was about to pull the trigger, Thunder was able to free one of his hands as grabbed a hold of the gun and moved it away from his skull. Thunder pushed the British terrorist off of his person, and was back on his feat in a flash. The terrorist ran at the cloaked man while shooting like a deranged lunatic. Thunder then whipped out his Justice Stick again (all dick jokes aside, where the fuck does he hide that thing?) and stabbed the man in the heart. “Fuck you, your taxes, and your tea, you goddamn Brit,” Thunder growled as he twisted The Justice stick and pushed again, forcing the blade out of the man’s back. He then made a jerking motion  back to remove the pole arm from the once-thought-to-be-dead-but-now-actually-dead man  and once again sprinted to the exit.:05, :04…

Meanwhile, Everett, Criss, and Lady Caggiano climbed aboard the Awesomeplane! out of breath, and worried of what has become of their cloaked leader. Everett, climbed into the cockpit and called, “Minigan is still in there, we can’t leave yet!”

“I’ll give him as much time as I can, but that place is about to blow, and we have to be airborne when that happens, or else we are going to sink with the rest of this island!”

Meanwhile, back inside the building, thunder was racing towards the exit. He quickly turned the corner and saw the open door. He ran at the door, faster than even he thought was possible, while all noises were drowned out by the rushing of his blood to his brain. :02, :01, :00. He did, however, hear the explosion. Thunder sprinted harder. He feared to look back, but it didn’t matter; the the light of fireball rushing down the hallway was enough of an indication of what was behind him. He burst through the door to see the Awesomeplane! about to leave his ass behind. “What the Fuck?!?!” he cried out, still running at it.

Suddenly, the door to the aircraft opened, and his team members beckoned him in. [picture this next bit occurring in slow motion for maximum effect] Pumping his legs with all he’s got, Thunder launched himself off the edge of the concrete platform just at the said platform exploded. The shockwave from the explosion pushed Thunder enough so that he flew straight into the cabin of the Awesomeplane!. [end slow motion]

“Blamo!” Lady Caggiano exclaimed as she helped Thunder to his feet.

“It’s good to see you make it out of there  in one piece, Minigan,” Emily Kohlberg, the team psychologist, affirmed happily, “the party would have sucked tonight if we would have had to make it a vigil.”

“I’m glad to hear I didn’t ruin the party,” Thunder said jokingly, “It’s just too bad that Jimmy was so busy spending time with his girlfriend that he couldn’t join this team and be a part of this awesomeness.”

“Good work team,” a familiar voice eminated from the onboard TV.

“Thank’s Spottswoode,” Thunder said, “Sadly, we could not save the hostage.

“Who was it?” Emily asked.

Ashley replied, “Spencer Pratt.”

“Oh,” Spottswoode interjected, “So you killed him. That’s fine; I would have done the same.”

“We kind of figured that the world would be better off without him,” Thunder stated,”We did, however, learn something new about who funds Murderhorn while we were in there.” Thunder showed Emily and The camera feeding to Spottswoode the symbol on the upper right hand corner of the document he retrieved.

“Oh my God,” Spottswoode uttered, “We have a serious situation on our hands if that company is funding Murderhorn, but lets worry about that after the party.”

The entire group agreed, and proceeded on their way back to their base, making jokes about Jimmy Kohlberg all the while.

Well, see if I let you into my superhero club now, Jimmy. Fucking dick.

Outside the window, the Island that housed the Murderhorn organization sank down to the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, probably causing more damage to the already beaten ecosystem.

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If you have not read the first three Awesomesquad blogs, you can find them: right here, over here, and way over there.

Anyway, as with my other Awesomesquad Assemble! posts, I am going to update you on our progress. First off, I would like to say that I contacted many of the people that I want in my group, but I do not know personally. Only one had replied, but his reply was a “yes” so fuck yea! The problem is that he is a public figure (kinda), so we needed to figure out how to get him completely out of the public eye. Sadly, the only possible way to do this was to ruin his name.  Seeing that this was the only option, and he was surprisingly into this whole “superhero team” idea, he agreed to go through with it. I had him cheat on his wife, get caught, and let the media have a field day. Now, you may be saying to yourself that that is counterproductive if I want him to be out of the public eye, but I disagree. I call this tactic the “John Gosslin Ditch.” What it does is makes the person who does it despicable in the eyes of the public. For a while, the couple will be featured on the cover of every shitty gossip magazine in every grocery store, but eventually the media will only focus on the victim (aka the spouse) and the person who committed it will fall into obscurity, only to be brought up in passing. So far, my man has done an excellent job at employing the John Gosslin Ditch. I would like to applaud Jesse James in his determination, and in his desire to not break Sandra Bullock’s heart by being tortured and murdered, but instead by committing adultery. Kudos to you, good sir; your ancestors would be proud.

Pictured- American Hero

Secondly, I have acquired our headquarters! Seeing as though this blog is public, It would be unwise of me to tell you the location or post a picture of it, but then again, I did just specifically state that Jesse James is in my group, so fuck it.

Tada!

There is an industrial complex near my house, and one of them is sitting there, empty and ready to be sold. Once I figure out who is going to be the rich person who funds everything, I will have him acquire it. Then, we can get under way constructing the super secret tunnel that runs from our base to my house. That will make things convenient for me if no one else. It also adds the theme of trying to protect the ones you love, but you bring them closer to the danger. If you don’t know what I am talking about, it is the reason Peter Parker bitches out of getting in MJ’s pants at the end of the first Spiderman movie

I have begun work on creating the symbol for the group. I have an idea in mind, but I still need to draw it up first. Next time I update, I hope to have some of the choices up for some type of voting process. Yay Democracy!

Next item of business: new members. I actually only have one new member this time and he is going to be my genetic engineer. I work with the man at the WS, so not only do I know that he is smart, I also know that he is a good writer and a fairly decent worker. The person I am talking about is (of course) Sean McCormick! (Sorry Bill and Terry)

He even comes with his own costume and laser gun!

Sean is unfortunately focusing his work on seaweed or some strange shit, so if he would alter our genes,  we would look something like this:

Dudes, I think that weed was bad. I'm totally tripping balls.

-which I still have not decided whether this would be a good or a bad thing. Anyway, he would need to go through some extensive training before he would be allowed to modify anyone in Awesomesquad, but I think that our heightened reflexes/ heat vision would be well worth the wait. And with Danica McKellar looking at his equations, we can be sure that his math will be done correctly. See, there IS a good reason to have a math genius on the team.

I would love to see her lowest common denominator.

I have also decided on who is going to be the boxing instructer! After careful deliberation, and after weighing the pros and the cons of each candidate, I have decided that the title goes to…

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I forget what I was talking about. Fuck. Oh yea, that’s right, the fighting coach. Yea, the person who has that spot is Damien Walters. If that name sounds familiar to you, it is because you have probably read my Awesomesquad blogs before. He is also my gymnastics instructor. If you are wondering why I would let a gymnast also teach me how to fight, you are sane. I would have never chosen him as my fight coach if it wasn’t for this picture:

That is Mr. Walters in the Kickass costume. He was a stuntman in it. But not only was he the stuntman, he was also the assistant fight coordinator for the movie. That’s badass, and it makes him worthy of the second position. I also chose him because neither my brother nor the owner of my gym has mentioned the Awesomesquad blog posts to me other than when my brother accepted the challenge. And I am pretty sure that he has forgotten all about it since then. So yea, fuck those guys. Besides, one less team member means one less paycheck and one less person that could be shot/ killed/ captured/ tortured/ go rogue. A more elite team is probably in our best interest.

So as it stands, here who is in my team so far:

Me- Leader

Ashley Caggiano- Second in Command

Damien Walters- Gymnastics/ boxing trainer

Everett Bradford- Weapons tech

Criss Angel- Magician

Derren Brown- Mind hacker

DMZ-computer hacker

Jesse James- Vehicle builder

Emily Kohlberg- Psychologist

Sean McCormick- Genetic Biologist

Danica McKellar- Math Nerd

This asian dude- Ninja/ covert ops

That’s 11 people so far, but I still need the medic and the rich person to fund everything, so I still cannot complete this group and make sure everything is up and running yet. This disturbs me because our Rouges gallery is growing with every blog post. Our latest villain is the most diabolical yet. He rose to power of a major corporation specifically to make that company bring about the end of days. His soul purpose is to destroy America. He also wants Al Gore to feel the pain of unfathomable sadness, but Hell, we all want that now and again.

The man I speak of gets his power from the tears of environmentalists and from the blood of manatees. Currently, he resides in his volcano lair off the cost of Haiti, where his earthquake machine undoubtedly caused the devastation in that country earlier this year. He enjoys destroying the environment, raising the price of oil, and going on boat rides. The man I am talking about is Tony Hayward of BP.

The son of a bitch

As of this moment, he looks like your normal, everyday, British prick. But with his current power, and his minions who work for the U.S. Government (Texas Representative Joe Barton is still sucking Hayward’s dick), Hayward is quite possibly unstoppable. I have calculated that if his power continues to go unchecked, he could morph into a monster the likes of which have never been seen. Here is my estimate of what he is going to look like this time next year if no one stops him:

God help us

That shoddy photo-shopping is accurate; he will become a sentient mud-beast with shape shifting abilities. He must be brought down. This also means that the symbol on the upper right hand corner of the papers in the briefcase was… Oh my God

For now, I am calling all of the members who have already accepted my offer to join Awesomesquad to actually assemble so that we can defeat this monster. We even have Cracked.com behind us on this one. That basically gives us the go ahead to do something.

Give peace a chance, but only after you have exhausted all of the ways you can fight a war.

My friends and how they worship me: Jimmy

Well, I should be writing a paper for my contemporary poetry class, or reading for my rhetorical grammar class, but fuck that noise. I’ll just talk to you guys. So, how have you been? That’s good. I did see the game. Two words: Amazing amazing. Yea I know that was just one word written twice. Don’t question it. No, it’s not that big of a deal. Who is really going to care? Everyone else is laughing, why can’t you. Ok, Ok we’ll talk about this when we get home. I said we’ll talk about this when we get home. Why must you insist upon making a scene in front of my friends. This is why we are never invited to any parties. [I grab a beer.] Because, I need to drink when I’m around you, because you are intolerable. I’m sorry- that was harsh and I didn’t mean it. No, don’t cry, I’m sorry. It’s just the beer and you nagging me about writing a word twice pushed me over the edge. Oh great, people are starting to stare. DON’T TELL PEOPLE THAT I THINK YOU’RE FAT! [turning to everyone else] I don’t think (your name) is fat. I never said anything like that; I just said that (s)he is intolerable. [turning back to you] Great, now I’m the bad guy! Well, since I’m the bad guy you can walk the fuck home.

[I get up and storm out of where ever the fuck we are (internet?) I drunkenly put my key in the ignition. The tires of my car screech like a banshee on the rag as I peel away from the curb. I’m flying down the interstate, listening to one of my CDs I made with the most depressing songs on my iPod. The song Stan by Eminem comes on. In true ironic (keep the word ironic in there if you don’t know what ironic means, if you do, use the term “coincidental” instead) fashon, I lose control of my car and go through the guard rails of an overpass. The sound of crushing metal and my screams are all I can hear as my car lands upside down. I stop screaming once I realize I’m not dead. I let out a short laugh as I unbuckle my seatbelt. “It’s gonna take more than that for god to kill me,” I say. The car then explodes into a fireball large enough to catch trees twenty feet away on fire (my car runs on napalm). After a few seconds after the blast, I climb out of the mangled chunk of scrap metal that once used to be my car, raise my middle finger to the midnight sky, and head the rest of the way home on foot.]

fuck you, sky

-Wow, what does it say about me if that is the imaginary relationship I think up?

Anywhat-the-fuck-ever, for my blog this week, I would like to talk to you kind folk about Jimmy “Jew Killer” Kohlberg.

Now Many of you (Lady Caggiano) maybe wondering why Jibbles got to be the focus of an entire blog before you, and you would be right to question it, but it’s my blog so fuck you. I’m writing about Jimmy. I actually feel that I have not done Jimmy proper justice in my blogs. I have mentioned him in one- maybe two of my blogs now, but he and I have a much stronger relationship than what I made it seem. It is on par with Ashley’s and my relationship, except I mention her in just about every one of my blogs.

Here are some of the facts you should know about Mr. Kohlberg:

  1. He is a man
  2. He is white, but he’s black on the inside
  3. He is my coworker at Geagle
  4. He is one of my best friends
  5. He works out- probably more than I do
  6. He is straight
  7. He will remind you that he is straight any time he complements you
  8. He likes-nay- loves the sauce, and has tried just about every type of booze that is out there
  9. He was born on May 20th, which coincidentally enough, is the same day my best friend from PA was born, except one year later.
  10. He loves my motivational posters and is the main force behind why I still make them
  11. He is a genuinely good person, also a pervert, but a good person none the less
  12. He would make a great English major if he only liked to write
  13. He somehow manipulated me into going out of my way to make sure he reads these blogs.

Jimmy, simply put, is awesome, and not just because he probably describes me to other people as a god of some sort. He is one of those friends I can regularly count on. He is usually the person I go to when I need relationship advice, and he gives me that much needed “please tell me I’m funny” attention that I ask for constantly.

One of the best things about being friends with Jimmy, however, is the conversations we tend to have on facebook or via text message. Here is one of the more recent ones. It is not our funniest, but we did a good job of covering all the topics that we usually hit during one of our conversations.

Doug 11:18pm

do you work tomorrow?

Jibbles 11:19pm

no sir

you?

Doug 11:20pm

yea 2:00 to 10:30

Jibbles 11:20pm

damn son

Doug 11:20pm

nah

i’m cool with it

Jibbles 11:21pm

i gotchya. you like brand new?

Doug 11:22pm

i do, I’ve actually been meaning to listen to the cd again, but smashley made me copies of the killers albums I don’t have so I’ve been listening to them

did you pass through Sam’s Town

Jibbles 11:22pm

yessir. good stuff. it made me kinda rekindle my enjoyment of em

Doug 11:23pm

it is a good cd

Jibbles 11:24pm

hell yea

Doug 11:25pm

i really like hot fuss too

i had no clue that they wrote the song with the lyrics “I got sold but I’m not a soldier”

Doug 11:27pm

i think i may add more motivational posters soon

Jibbles 11:29pm

do it. i love those.

Doug 11:29pm

ok. I will.

Jibbles 11:30pm

dude, im kinda drunk

youre a good dude. youre a good friend too

Doug 11:31pm

so are you

Jibbles 11:31pm

thanks dude 🙂 no homo

Doug 11:31pm

ditto

Jibbles 11:32pm

lol youre fine dude no worries

Doug 11:32pm

ha ha right back at you

Jibbles 11:36pm

so how are the chicas in your life bruhh

Doug 11:36pm

DOA

ha ha

no they are not interested

how’s the gf?

Jibbles 11:38pm

lol

shes good. youll get some awesome chick. you deserve it

Doug 11:39pm

hell yea I do!

there is this girl at the place i go tanning at she is very cute, and friendly

i am not sure if she’s interested though

also, i kind of forgot about this because i was very drunk at the time, but some of the girls i was at that party with want to fix me up with girls they know

Jibbles 11:41pm

dude. youre shredded. every chick thats friendly with you is prolly wanting your weiner.

no homo

youre like… fuckin he-man

Doug 11:41pm

not He-man

Jibbles 11:41pm

dude

Doug 11:41pm

close, but not exactly

Jibbles 11:41pm

you even have the haIR

Doug 11:41pm

ha ha, yea i do

Jibbles 11:44pm

dude

the whiskey.

its a trip to the moon

Doug 11:45pm

no, that’s just the roofies

Jibbles 11:47pm

hahahahahahahahahahahahaha

i literally lol’d

Doug 11:48pm

i’ve been getting people to do that a lot lately

whoda thunk I’d be funny

Jibbles 11:52pm

haha dude youre a writer. who do you think writes for comics? writers.

Doug 11:52pm

good point

Jibbles 11:53pm

i just reread what i sent. am i retarded? maybe. lol

Doug 11:55pm

no it was a good point

obvious maybe

but also funny

because you are tipsy

Jibbles 11:55pm

oh. im tipsed to the mesopotamian (sp) valley.

Doug 11:56pm

that doesn’t make any sense

Jibbles 11:57pm

its in iraq

between the tigris and euphrates rivers

Doug 11:57pm

i know that

Jibbles 11:57pm

lol ok well it means im halfway around the world with whiskey

Doug 11:58pm

oh, ok. i did not catch that part

Jibbles 11:59pm

lol i never mentioned it. my bad if its like tryin to follow a story bein told by someone with downs.

Doug 11:59pm

it’s cool

Today

Jibbles 12:01am

im kind of crass

im sorry

lol

Doug 12:02am

no

it was funny

Doug 12:07am

now i’m wondering what it would be like if someone with the Syndrome of a Down told me a story

Jibbles 12:07am

hahahahahahaha

well i just took a piss lol

Doug 12:08am

i am glad that i have that effect on you

no homo

Jibbles 12:08am

hahahahahaha

hahahaha

In ten years, when I have a severe God Complex, we can all look back and say “So, this is where it all started. Thanks a lot Jimmy. You Douchebag.”

But seriously, he fills the “Doug is awesome” quota before anyone else has a chance to. If you don’t believe me, look back up at the conversation. He calls me he-man. He-fucking-Man! (that sounded both gay and like bad English) My brother and sister have to work overtime on deflating my ego while I am friends with Jimmy.

this picture is 100% accurate

That conversation basically sums up most of the conversations between Jimmy and I.  They usually have the elements of Music, girls, how awesome I am, promises that jimmy is not gay, how drunk jimmy is, work at Geagle, and my motivational posters.

Speaking of motivational posters, Jimmy loves them so much that he likes it when I make fun of him via the posters. With that in mind, Here are the ones of Jimmy:

The Aughts: A Requiem

Wow, this has been an amazing (stifled laugh) ten years. Just thinking of all of the 6 good things that happened this past decade just gives me goose bumps: the advent of the smart phone, the advancement of “green” technology, the death of John Ritter just to name a few. Damn, these were all amazing events in recent history. The last one, for me at least, was a bittersweet event, mainly because that asshole still owes money. I want my $3.50, Dude from Three’s company. Your passing won’t stop me from kicking your decomposing ass!

I’ve got 10 simple rules for you to go to hell, Ritter.

Hell, even this year was amazing for me. I got to go to the inauguration of Obama, I got to spend a week in an alcohol and ecstasy fueled haze in New Orleans, and I didn’t lose any friends this year. Not to mention the fact that I am labeled “sexy” by just about everyone I know now. But that is the good thing about having friends with low standards of beauty; even me, someone who is average looking by TV’s standards can be attractive if all of their friends are blind.

I could go into detail about  every single little thing that happened this year, but fuck that noise. Besides I am splitting this blog into 2 different sections the first part is going to be the 10 great events ( that happened to me in 2009, the second will be the things that most affected me in the past decade.

Something tells me this won’t be my funniest blog.

A Side: A Cheap Cracked.com Rip off-10 best events (for me) of 2009

10. The Metallica Concert

Now, I’ve already have written a blog about this, so I will not go into too much detail, but I will be the first person to admit that this was definitely not the best concert I’ve ever seen. The Goddamn speakers blew out in the middle of the concert! Really, what the fuck? Also, I almost got a speeding ticket (I flashed the cop my leg to try to get out of it). Turns out, he only wanted to see if I was drunk, which I wasn’t. But all that aside, It was still a great experience. The concert and the events surrounding it were, as a whole, an experience I was not used to, and even if the night wasn’t perfect, I need those imperfect days, because perfection is boring. Sexy, yet boring.

pictured: a total bore

If the day was perfect, then my brother and I would have gotten home before 2:30, and wouldn’t have gone to class at 8:00 the next morning (yea, I went to class. I think that makes me a hardcore learner). Oh, and by the way, this beat out Obama’s Inauguration only because no one at the Metallica Concert was a 6 and a half foot tall black guy who pushed himself in front of me right before  the show started.

9. Starting this blog/ my journal

This made the list simply because it finally gave me  a way to rant to the world, even if no one is willing to listen. And, It also gives me a place to rant on the subjects that piss me off, or use the jokes I’ve been itching to use. My Journal on the other hand, lets me be serious (angsty), straightforward (bitchy), and reminds me that I am not a one dimensional character, and that I am something more than a clown (pussy).

8. The PA trip

This may not be the greatest trip made this year, but this was the closest I have been able to get my PA friends to meet my OH friends. Also, Ashley, Aaron, Erin, and I came up with new names for your danger zone: boobs are Hotsie-totsies, balls are shenanigans, dick is shindig or, bo-jengles (I am lord of the shindigs at OSU and I do not want that to be interpreted the wrong way), vagina is twitter, and I cannot remember what ass is, so let’s just name it scamper-stamp. I was also inside a building that looked eerily similar to Hogwarts: The Cathedral of Learning at the University of Pittsburgh.

7. Getting my Associates Degree

Really this is nothing more than a fancy way of telling me that I am half way done with college, and that real life is going to hit me  like I’m some wife that’s really asking for it. Still, I have a degree, and I could quit if I want to, but I won’t because I am not one to give up so easily. It will be a cold day in Hell before I leave OSU forever not clutching my bachelor’s.

6. Becoming a zombie

My alter ego Zeke the Zombie was formed this year. He has proven to many people at OSU-Newark that Zombies are friendly, gentle, undead souls, that want nothing more than for people to write in a never ending story. He also freaked a bunch of people out when he started eating a Caesar salad.

5. the zombie baby purchase

This was going to just be about my Halloween party, but then I realized that the greatest part of this year’s Halloween season was one single piece of décor: the Zombie baby. This year was really the year of the Zombie. Other than the zombie baby and Zeke, there was also: my first viewing of Zombie Strippers, me reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, and I obtained a Zombie Apocalypse readiness kit from a co worker. Out of all those, however, the zombie baby had the greatest impact on people. We worshipped it at the STD initiation party. It was the real host of my Halloween party. All my friends loved it, and most parents I know hated it. And, AND it has made a cameo in every facebook album I have added pictures to since then.

4. New Orleans

This was a magical place where I first tried USA approved absenthe, where I got to drink in the middle of the street while  standing (laying) only 10 feet away from a cop. I laughed as an incredibly flamboyant gay man made fun of the O-H-I-O chant, and something else that I am pretty sure the parties involved would rather have forgotten by everyone on the trip. Isn’t that right, Bobby? I also did a Hell of a lot of walking in 90+ degree weather, tried gator, crawfish, and gumbo, and I copped a feel of a lady mannequin in a porn store. Overall: it was a fun trip.

3. Turning 21

This was a magical time which I discovered that I gain amazing abilities when I am just a little drunk, and that a jagerbomb should never, NEVER, be made with anything other than redbull. The Monster jagerbomb I had was terrible. I also got hit on by my sister’s best friend, who is dating my brother’s friend, and I made a terrible (and a little angry) pass at a girl from Highschool. Sorry Mande, I was drunk, and you looked especially fine that night. Call me.

2. Benching 225

Yes, this beats New Orleans and turning 21. Both of those events had large amounts of alcohol involved, and if you know anything about me, it’s that alcohol and I are good friends. Do you know what else and I are even better friends? Punishing myself at the gym. I wanted to bench press 225 last year, but I started to work out on my own, and I was much more antisocial then than I am now, so I did bench press with dumb bells instead. Well, I started working out with new people on Mondays, and after several week of trying and failing (at one point I lost control and the bar came down on my throat. I was more pissed than anything, but that’s a whole other story), I finally got it. I wrote my name up on the chalk board and felt like a mother fucking beast while doing so. Next goal : 250-bench, 325-squat, and 330- deadlift.

1. Getting published

I feel that this picture takes on a weird meaning with my aunt wearing the santa hat.

Seriously, who did not expect this? Put your name in the comments so that I can find you and beat the retarded out of you with a frying pan. Writing is what I want to do the rest of my life. I like entertaining people, I like making people laugh, and I have an reservoir of creativity that is overflowing and gushing out of my fingertips. Getting published in this decade was one of the many goals that I set in place that I never really thought would happen. And unless Yvonne Strahovski knocks on my door within the next minute and lets me make sweet, sweet love to her down by the fire, it will be the only one that I actually accomplished. I even held my first book signing this year in honor of that book. Yea, it was with my family, but fuck you. How many Goddamn pieces of writing have you gotten published?

Note: do not reply to that last comment if you are: Ashley Caggiano, April Sears, Jon Holmes, Erin Tobin, Jarod Anderson, Terry Gomes, and anyone else I know who was published in Taproot.

Side B- Things of the decade that have shaped me

I would like to make the note that the year is when I was first effected by the thing, not when it was made, started, or born.

Place- Old School Gym- 2007-present

This one shaped me both physically and emotionally. Really, that is the only place left that I am not in my comfort zone 100% of the time, and I kind of need to keep it that way. It is a gym, if I am not experiencing some type of stress, I am not doing it right. I need that place. I get along pretty well with everyone, even my former best friend, and a lot of people that I thought I would not like when I was in high school. And then there is the one owner’s workout, The Insanity Workout as I have dubbed it. When you are doing said workout, two thoughts cross your mind regularly: “I’ve got to be fucking insane to be doing this,” and “What did I do to make me so mad at myself? Let me know so that I never do that again.” I would have gone with the second one as the name, but I could not boil it down to one word and it be accurate. That workout has taught me how to work through pain way better than just working out my normal way. It also built my endurance, and it has been the only work out that I have ever done that has made me throw up and/ or pass out when I got home.

Website- T-shirt hell-2003

I think this would have been the obvious choice. I have 4 weeks’ worth of their T-shirts for Christ’s sake. This website has singlehandedly desensitized me more than South Park, Family Guy, Drawn Together, or any late night programming on HBO could ever dream. Their balls to say whatever they want, whenever they want, and they don’t give a pig- fucking shit who they piss off. That is the most pure form of comedy on the planet, folks. Making fun of everything without discrimination. In a sick, ironic kind of way, they are probably the most tolerant people on the face of this planet, because they get to vent those frustrations out to the world in funny T-shirt form. Their philosophy is “If everyone is equal, then everyone should be made fun of equally, fuck them if they cannot take a joke,” and they made that my motto, even if only by threatening me with assrape.

Viral video- Greatest freakout ever- 2009

This one video has made me question myself and humanity more than any other video I have ever seen. Did I act like that when I was a teenager? Am I a perv for enjoying this? Is this what all teenagers are like? Do I really want kids after seeing this video? Am I as crazy as this kid? Is this what every person who plays WoW is like? Where did his parents buy that magical stripping blanket? Would I attempt to sodomize myself with a remote control if I got really pissed off? The answer to most of those questions is a solid NO. I cannot even begin to think of how pissed off I would be for me to attempt to stick something up my ass to get my point across. And, even if someone did get me that mad, I would probably just take the remote (or whatever) and beat them with it.

Book- Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone-2000

I had a hard time deciding on the movie, TV show, book, and song groups for this, mainly because I wanted to keep the said medium in this decade, but I had to go against that rule for the book. Harry Potter was the book that made me like reading and pushed me towards my love of writing. The Sorcerer’s Stone showed me what I could do with all the random daydreams I had. Hell, it showed me what magic really is; It’s not the wands, broomsticks, or mythical creatures- it’s that spark of passion that we all feel inside of us. It is love, it is instinct, it is that little voice inside you that keeps you from doing something that you know that you will regret, it is the thing that makes you learn from other’s mistakes, and the mistakes you have made. Magic is the soul, the spirit, the aura if you will. It is the fuel that keeps us going even when you feel like you just want to give up and die. That is magic. The sorcerer’s Stone taught me this. But I didn’t know this until I was old enough to understand it. Now that I have become a hardcore pussy on this topic, let’s continue.

Movie- Scary Movie- 2001, 2002

I don’t know if you know this, but I love parodies. I know, I know, that revelation must be shaking the foundations of the fundamental beliefs that you base reality on. Now, I know I had seen parodies before Scary Movie, and I never saw “Scream” or “I know What you Did Last Summer” before I saw Scary Movie. But all the same, I fell in love parodies. It is because this movie, not South Park, may I repeat- NOT SOUTH PARK, that I write so many parodies. I am actually not sure when I saw Scary Movie, so let’s just go with late 2001, early 2002.

Celebrity-Jon Stewart-2004

This was a fairly simple choice. He made me laugh at the news again. If you have read my blog about the news (if you haven’t, read it-NOW) you know how amazingly depressing the news is any more.  I hated the news, and then Jon said to me “we know that everything sucks, Let’s make fun of it.” And make fun of it he did.

TV show- Jackass/ Viva La Bam- 2004

These were the last shows on MTV that I watched before it went to Hell. Some would argue that it went to Hell long before that, and I would not argue against them. But, these shows displayed some brilliance deep within their stupidity.  A brilliance that I cannot explain, and it is not my place to explain. After these shows left, we got Tila Tequila and MTV morphed into a giant mound of butt pudding.

Song- Reach for the sky by Social Distortion- 2008

I am trying to live by what this song says- that by worrying about the future, and dwelling on the past makes you miserable in the present. And what if tomorrow doesn’t come? Then you have wasted your life looking at a future that was never going to come into fruition. I know that I will always be thinking about the future and what may or may not happen to me, but I want to learn how to live in the present. I want to reach for the sky cause tomorrow may never come.

Person that I know- My brother 2005-present

Sorry Ashley and Jimmy, but this had to go to my brother. He got me drinking at 16. He was the one to first show me T-shirt Hell, and he introduced me to Metallica, Social Distortion, Slayer, ACDC, and many others. Also, I am sure some of you have heard tales of going to parties with my brother. I have seen more with him than I have seen with most of my friends.  For the longest time I thought he was an asshole, and he is, but I have learned a lot from him. My only wish is that he gave me some of his game with girls. He’s a straight player. It’s ridiculus.

Event- my parent’s divorce- 2003

I tried to think of a different event that changed my life more. I mean I really tried to think of a happy one like : getting the rank of Eagle Scout, graduating high school, hitting puberty (this only happened last week, but it still counts as this decade), but no. Every major event in my life for these past 10 Goddamn years seems to revolve around that one fucking event. Why am I living in Ohio? My mom moved to Ohio and I was given a choice to go with her, or to stay with my dad. I still do not know why I moved but I did. Don’t get me wrong; if I could go back in time, I would make the same decision. Why do I have such a vile sense of humor at times? Because the day my parents told my siblings and I the news, I said to myself “Doug, your life at school sucks. It has always has sucked. Your home was the place that you could go to avoid at least some bullshit. Well, no more. But if my home is going to fall apart, I will be damned if my school life is going to suck too.” Then, I started to say sarcastic things when a classmate said something stupid. This made more people like me. Of course, then I decided to move and I sent all that work right to Hell. I was introduced to T-shirt Hell months after I was told, and I knew my parents were appalled by some of the things on that site, so I started visiting there religiously. Why am I attending OSU? Again the move. I would have probably gone to either Duquesne or Penn State if I stayed in PA. I got sucked into the buckeye mania after moving to Ohio, and my friends from high school were going there. Every event (other than getting Eagle, but it still made it difficult to finish- I had to drive to PA for both my Board of Review, and my ceremony.) had been effected by that.

so this is my last post of the year. I hope you enjoyed my rants, and I hope you will continue to visit my blog in the following decade.

and as a special gift to my readers, many of you whom have not seen a picture of me before 2004, I want to show you what i looked like in 2000, and what I look like now.

2000:

God, even I want to beat myself up.

2009:

C’mon, of course I went shirtless with this pic. Now, BOW TO MY EPIC ABS!!!

Thank you for reading.

The News Has Never Been So Sexy, or Disturbing.

Have you noticed how depressing the news is anymore? It doesn’t matter what news station you watch, because after five minutes of any station, you will have a sneaking suspicion that someone is trying to kill you. Also, have you noticed how incredibly hot the Anchor ladies are becoming? Seriously, some of these women need to pose for playboy, or at least Maxim. Shit, I would settle for a Tijuana bible of some of them.

Breaking News: I am pitching a tent!

But it makes sense, you need incredibly attractive women reading the news or ranting incoherently like all pundits, because, lets be honest- the world is not headed to Hell, it is sprinting there, knocking over little old ladies that get in its way. We need hot anchor ladies just because boobs make men smile, and we need something to make us feel better after watching anything on Fox News or MSNBC. This does cause some problems however. For instance, it starts arguments between my dick and my brain about what we are going to watch. My brain doesn’t like to watch the news, because the news makes my brain cry. My dick loves watching the news because the anchor ladies makes my dick cry in a good way. This would lead to many a evening where I would have a headache and be left feeling very frustrated (if you know what I mean.)

This went on for several days before my dick and brain decided that their silly arguing was not getting us anywhere. The three of us decided to search for other means of entertainment. We started with (much to the chagrin of my brain) sticking my dick in random objects. This lead to some comedic and oftentimes tragic consequences, and I am sure one of said consequences ended up on youtube somewhere.

Anyway, from there I discovered a little invention called the internet. It was amazing! All of the most beautiful women in the San Fernando Valley were all in this one place, getting fucked 24/7. I was going to attempt to break into the internet and see if I could get in on the action, but then I discovered the true face of the internet. S&M,  Simpson anime porn, and most evil video of all: 2 girls 1 cup. I had to take three showers after watching that video, and I still felt unclean. And then there was this thing (I swear, Cracked.com showed me this.)

when photoshop goes horribly, horribly wrong...

After that, I decided to quit arm wrestling the Cyclops, and went out to look for some sweet panooch myself. As it turns out, I am incredibly awkward, do not know how to flirt, and second guess myself when I think a girl likes me. Oh, how I wish those were jokes.

The point I am trying to make is that I used up all of my other resources for arousal; I only had three options left: becoming a peeping tom, gay porn (there’s got to be some chicks in it, right?), or the news. Deciding that the former two were more illegal and contained waaay too much sodomy than I care for, I decided to go back to the news. My brain developed a plan to deal with all that noise that those pretty on air personalities produce. That plan was called “Operation: Mute That Bitch.” I would turn onto the news station with the sexiest anchor ladies, and press the mute button. I would then imagine what these women were saying to me. I will give you a brief example of our conversations.

Jillian Hottits- Thank you for watching Minigan Blackwood, I missed you. I missed you so hard.

don't speak, just look pretty for the camera.

Me- I missed you too baby. What do you want to do tonight? What the Hell is he doing here?

Douchebag Scallywag- Sorry Minigan, but I will be jumping in between you two to sporadically kill your erection.

what a douche

Jillian- Your huge, throbbing, man erection

Douchebag- Yes, I will be deflating that. By the end of this program you should feel like your dick is bipolar.

Me- Get off the Screen, Douchebag!

Jillian- Sorry Minigan, but you know the rules. Anyway, did you bring the whippedcream?

Me- I sure did!

Jillian- Good, now squirt it on my big fake boobs.

Me- But you are just a TV screen, I can’t put on your che-

Jillian- JUST DO IT!!!

Me- OK, OK, just calm down. [sprays the whipped cream on the TV, over Jillian’s chest]

Jillian- Oooohhh baby, yea just like that. Now lick it off.

Me- oh, yeah! [starts licking] mmm… you taste so good. Do you like the way I lick you, baby?

Me- Baby?  [looks up] Oh, what the fuck!

Douchebag- This just in: Minigan Blackwood is licking whipped cream off of my suit, proving once again that he is my bitch.

Me- Fuck you

Douchebag- No sir, fuck you.

Me-Put Jillian back on, you slimy, cock gobbling excuse for human placenta!

Jillian- What did you call me?

Me- I didn’t call you anything, baby. Now, where were we?

Jillian-  I was just about to tell you what I want you to do to me.

Me- What do you want me to do to you?

Jillian- I want you to-

Douchebag- suck my old hairy balls

Me- NEVER!!!!

Douchebag- and then I want-

Jillian- you to gently kiss me all over my body. Start at the neck, and slowly work your way down to my navel. Then, before you head down south, I want you to lick my belly button while you –

Douchebag- fondle my big, floppy man boobs. Then you should-

Random black buy that stands in front of a map of the US- DIE MOTHERFUCKER!!!

the most terrifying weatherman ever

Me- Oh, shit no! the racist stereotype is back! Please don’t shoot me, For the love of Yaweh!!!

Stereotype- IT’S GONNA RAIN, BITCH!!

Me- Please, I’ll do anything! Just don’t kill me!

Stereotype- Fine get down on your knees.

Me- Ok, Ok. [begins to sob like a little girl]

Jillian- seeing you cry like that makes me so hot. Mmmm yea, sooo hot!

Me- Thank God you’re back! That racist and inaccurate stereotype was going to kill me.

Jillian-  It’s ok, baby. I’ll make-

Douchebag- You toss my salad, then I’ll-

Stereotype- MAKE IT RAIN, MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!

Me- fuck it, I’m done with this shit. [turns off the TV, wipes away the remaining whippedcream. goes into the bathroom, turns on the shower, climbs in, and curls into a ball and weeps uncontrollably]

I may go to Hell for this post.  Hope you enjoyed it!

Reese’s Peaces are nothing but feces

pictured: a pile of shit

Jimmy, you’re welcome.

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