Tag Archives: politics

Daily Discussion with BQB – Roy Moore and Al Franken

I don’t like to get into politics on this blog.  I really don’t.  But it just seems like, Republicans have an alleged pervert (always have to say alleged for legal reasons) and Democrats have an alleged pervert.

Each side doesn’t want to throw their alleged pervert overboard and lose a vote in the Senate, but it feels like this is a rare opportunity for both sides to come together and say that they don’t tolerate alleged perversions in their ranks and kick both alleged perverts overboard.

Republicans throw out Moore, Democrats throw out Franken and neither side is worse off, both sides lost exactly one alleged pervert.  Seems like a rare opportunity here for the parties to show they don’t approve of alleged chicanery and end up no worse off than they were before if both sides kick out one person.

Discuss.

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Daily Discussion with BQB – Congress Has Paid $15 Million in Sexual Harassment Claims Over the Years

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here.  I heard something on the radio yesterday and I think it went virtually unnoticed because there was so much else going on in the news.

It was reported that over the past, how many years exactly escapes me, Congress has paid out $15 million in sexual harassment claims.  This appears to be bipartisan.  Republicans and Democrats alike have a hard time not being gropey gropey.

Sigh.  Look dudes.  You got out there, you made some fancy speeches, you convinced people in your district you were worth something, you’ve been selected for a powerful club few ever know…I don’t care how old are ugly or disgusting you may look, if you are not able to be like the rest of us and just find a woman who you share a mutually attraction with and politely chat her up, get her number and go out on some dates and slowly and surely convince her your worth doing the hibbitty dibbitty with, then you are not worthy of being a Congressman.

“I’d better grab that ass and hope she doesn’t say something because an unwanted ass grab is the best I can do,” does not speak well of you, your self-confidence and all around means you should step down.

Seriously.  I don’t care how disgusting you are.  Most of the non-Congressional world is able to obtain consensual sex, so if you can’t obtain consensual sex with the added bonus of being able to say, “Hey baby I’m a Congressman” then you suck.  You just really suck and should go stand in the corner and think about what you’ve done.

Oh and also there’s the obvious – women should be able to work for Congress without unwanted hands on their lady parts and 15 million – those are our tax dollars.  It seems obvious many of these dudes do this shit because they know Congress will bail them out. Perhaps there needs to be a law that if you pull out your junk in front of a staff member you have to pay the settlement out of your own money.  That will cause many zippers to zip up quickly, no doubt.

Discuss.

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A Brief History of the Second American Civil War

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It began in 2017 and lasted until 2030.  By the end of the gruesome conflict, over a hundred thousand protestors on various sides of the political spectrum and with little more to do than go out and hold signs about their individual causes while their poor oppressed parents footed the bill, would be dead.

Millions more Americans who just wanted to turn on the TV and not see outbreaks of tomfoolery would be severely annoyed.

What, you might ask, was the Second American Civil War over, you might ask?

It was over what to do with the monuments dedicated to the First American Civil War that ended approximately 160 years ago.  Yeah.  We know.  Stop shaking your head.

It all began with General Toke-It-All Jackson, the unemployed and unemployable pot fan/purple haired fifth level otherkin hipster leader of the Social Justice Brigade.  “As nothing as my witness, because the idea of a God is oppressive to atheists everywhere, I will never allow a statue of some old racist fuck sit in a park while no one gives a shit while his head gets pooped on by pigeons ever again!”

And so the Social Justice Brigade marched through the South, using their limited upper body strength to pull down one statue of a traitorous rebel racist fucker after another, rather than, you know, maybe just submit a proposal to the local city governments to ask that the statues be removed through the democratic process and be put into museums where nerdy Civil War re-enactors can continue to delay losing their virginity by master bating all over these monuments to a failed effort to double-cross the United States of America.

Meanwhile, the Modern Southerners would not stand for this.  Their leader, General Hushpuppy Beauregard, who sounded very similar to Foghorn Leghorn, publicly said, “We Modern Southerners do not see these statues as a tribute to racism, but rather, as a tribute to our ancestors.  Why, my Great Great Great Great Great Great Grandpappy Rufus Beauregard was General Lee’s personal horn blower.  Why, old Grandpappy blew General Lee’s horn long and hard, sometimes slowly, sometimes fast, always being sure to use plenty of tongue and not any teeth and sometimes for hours on necessary if need be.  He looked clean and crisp and respectable in his uniform and we are all proud of Grandpappy’s service.”

When pressed on the fact that the Confederacy was set up to continue the wretched institution of slavery, General Hushpuppy said, “I do declare sir, we Modern Southerners are not racist at all.  We love black folk just fine and want to see them do well and get good jobs and be successful and have good lives and I suppose if our daughters bring one of them home we will begrudgingly acknowledge them and then yell at our dumb wives for telling our dumb daughters for this is somehow ok but regardless, we bear black folk no ill will.  In our minds, the Civil War has been homogenized in pop culture and the hundreds of Civil War films we have seen just display the conflict as a disagreement between two sides of gentlemen gone awry.  Those movies rarely mention the slavery aspect or if they do, they don’t focus too hard on it.  I add that I am no racist sir for I have all of Jay-Z’s songs on my iPhone and I masterbate to the sight of Beyoncé’s luxurious rear end at all times.”

When pressed again, General Hushpuppy added, “Look, we love black folk, but we like to brandish our Confederate memorabilia from time to time to remind those uppity Northern folk that if they keep trying to switch our barbecue ribs for kale and our pick-up trucks for Priuses and our shootin’ irons for therapy, we’ll split off from the country and by God, we’ll do it right this time.”

But it wasn’t that easy.  There were two more sides.  Next, there were the Racist Manboys.  These dudes were all kind of chubby.  Some were Nazis who, like their hero, Hitler, were trying to compensate for small penises.  Some were Ku Klux Klansmen who stole their mothers’ bedsheets and cut eyeholes in them, leaving their mothers to cry, “This is why we can’t have nice things!”

Their leader, General Honkey von Cracker, said, “The white man is better and more smarter and interesting-er than all the other mongrel races and I do be the one who should be knowing this as I took ten years to grad-u-a-mate from night school GED class.  I would have done it sooner but one time a black man cut me in line at the Burger Hut and I seethed with rage over it for years.  I’m not still quite over it but with therapy I have faith I will be.”

The Racist Manboys really, really, really loved the statues of Confederates because they often fantasized about traveling back in time just so they could join the confederacy and fight in a war to oppress black people.  The Racist Manboys divide their time between efforts to build a time machine that will allow them to travel back to the 1860s so they might join the Confederacy and to lobby for laws that will make slavery legal again because the only way they will ever be laid is if it becomes legal to kidnap hot black chicks and hold them against their will.

Finally, there was one last group of non-combatants, the People Who Had Shit to Do.  Ironically, their leader was an African American by the name of Fred Wilbur, who said, “How in the Hell do all you people have so much time on your damn hands that you can go out in the middle of a weekday and beat the shit out of each other over a bunch of statues of some racist white folk from the 1800s?  I mean, holy shit, as a taxpayer, I don’t like to see my taxes go toward the upkeep of a statue of some ass face who wanted to keep me in chains, but shit, I have a wife and kids.  I have bills to pay and mouths to feed.  I work a day job, a night job, and a weekend job.  I got three Goddamn jobs and you weirdoes don’t have any.  Get a job, get Jesus in your life.  I mean, shit, I don’t like the statues but if all you dumbass white people are just going to beat the shit out of each other then fuck it, just let the pigeons shit all over those dumb old statues of those racist pricks until the end of time.”

And so the battle raged on for 13 years as the three sides fought one another while people with jobs like Fred would just come home after work, pop open a beer, curse at all the idiots without jobs then rent a movie on pay per view, preferably one with a lot of action and chicks with big ass titties.

Finally, the war ended when a peaceful solution was offered.  The Confederate statues would remain, but statues of freed black slaves rogering statues of the white wives of the Confederate soldiers would be erected next to the Confederate statues.  All were happy by this compromise which, ironically, was proposed by President Bookshelf Q. Battler, the greatest president America has ever had ever and will also ever have.

Everything was good for awhile until the Third World War broke out in 2034.  That one was over whether or not to get rid of statues of George Washington, not because of the fact that he was a slave owner, but because George, as was the custom in his day, wore a gray haired wig to make him look older and wiser as elders were respected for their wisdom at the time.  Alas, by 2034, youth took over the world and anyone over 35 was required to sit down on an iceberg and be floated off to sea.  No one with gray hair was ever seen again and anyone who used to have gray hair in the past was considered a piece of shit who had to be erased from history.

Finally, in the year 2200, the Fourth American Civil War broke out over the proposed removal of statues of JFK, FDR, Abraham Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, President Flava Flav and President Bookshelf Q. Battler.

You see, by the year 2200, a pill was invented that made it so people don’t have to shit anymore.  Yes, by taking this pill, humans were able to absorb all necessary nutrients from their foods without producing poop.  Anyone pre-2200 who never took this pill was considered a dirty pooping Neanderthal.

Thus, a great debate began.  Yes, JFK, FDR, Lincoln, Roosevelt, President Flava Flav and President Battler had all done great things.  In fact, President BQB provided all men with free sex robots, which made them happy because they were never without sex again and their wives happy because they didn’t have to suffer their smelly husbands flopping on top of them ever again.

However, all these men pooped, and so, the Anti-Poop front declared that any traces of anyone who ever took a shit had to be erased from history as they were dirty pooping savages.

That was the last American Civil War.  After that, America, like the rest of Earth, was conquered by an alien race.  The population of the entire world was wiped out and the aliens used the planet to store their excess tennis shoes.

Later, a war would break out amongst the aliens over a statue of an alien wearing tennis shoes when it was decided that dock siders were much more stylish.

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Daily Discussion with BQB – Marco Rubio’s Epic Ivanka Trump Hug Fail

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here.  As you know, I avoid discussing politics on this fine blog, because whether you are a Republican or a Democrat, I think the most important thing everyone can do is to come together and buy my book and give my blog extra clicks so I can finally buy my long awaited beach house in Malibu and fill it full of women of ill repute and questionable moral character.

Anyway.  Regardless of your thoughts on POTUS 45, you’ve got to admit, the First Daughter is so hot that should could give a bad case of priapism to a eunuch.  (That’s when your little soldier stands at attention  for more than four hours.  Daytime TV commercials advise you to see a doctor at that point.)

Thus, I personally feel for Florida Senator Marco Rubio when he delivered this awkward hug to Ivanka:

Sure, your first instinct might be to think that Senator Rubio is a dope for not just going all in like a man on that hug (Lord knows Bookshelf Q. Battler has never been one to leave a lady unsatisfied in the hug department) but then consider:

  1. He’s a married man.  He probably didn’t want to linger too long and piss off his wife.  “What, dear?  No, I got zero enjoyment out of hugging one of the most beautiful women in the world.  Didn’t you see the photo?  I barely touched her.
  2. She’s a married woman.  You don’t want to get on the Kush’s bad side.
  3. He’s a politician.  Had he lingered too long the media would say he must be warm for Ivanka’s form.
  4. She’s hot so like every second of contact adds another second to the bad case of priapism I assume anyone gets when they come into contact with her – which is fine, under normal circumstances, but in the Senator’s case, he probably had important Senatorial shit to do after that meeting so it’s not like he can walk around all day with a bout of Ivanka inspired priapism.
  5. Ivanka kind of seems so hot that like, the average hug just bounces off her.  Like, you need to be more than just a Senator in order to land your hug because an invisible force field will just bounce your hug right off.  You have to be like the Emperor of Jupiter or an equally sized planet for your hug to go through.  Only hugs from ridiculously impressive men will land.

Later, Rubio lampooned the coverage, joking in a series of tweets that he was “investigating” the awkward hug allegations and Ivanka tweeted “Fake news! Marco Rubio is an excellent hugger.

Anyway, I don’t intend to start a whole political back and forth with this post.  I just thought the photo was funny and I could picture myself in Rubio’s situation, having no idea what to do and feeling like any move is going to get me lambasted so, oh well, here goes the awkward hug.

What say you, 3.5 readers?

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Movie Review – War Machine (2017)

War!  Bureaucracy!  Red tape!

BQB here with a review of Netflix’s new film, War Machine.

Based on the book, “The Operators” by Michael Hastings, this film is a dark comedy, satirizing the sheer absurdity modern warfare, not to mention the unenviable positions of those whose efforts to win are backseat driven every step of the way.

Brad Pitt plays General Glenn McMahon, a fictionalized version of General Stanley McChrystal, whose own efforts to cut through a sea of red tape eventually culminated in a Rolling Stone article that proved to be his undoing.

In 2009, McMahon is put in charge of Afghanistan.  The dirty secret no one speaks about or is even willing to admit is that he is expected to maintain the status quo and lose gracefully.  In fact, at the start of the film, McMahon is brought into a room of DC bigwigs who urge him to do a tour of the country and provide them with an assessment of what is needed but then within the same breath, they tell him he’d better not find that he needs more troops.

In other words, the days when great warriors like Eisenhower and Patton could write a check that DC would cash are over.  The warriors aren’t really in charge now.  The whole operation is second and third guessed by bureaucratic bean counting civilians who’ve never seen a battlefield in their entire lives.

With an almost Colombo-esque style of disarming charm, McMahon attempts to cut through the red tape that is slowing him and his team down.  Along the way, he steps on many a toe, but comes across as so humble and down to earth that the bigwigs whose toes were stepped on aren’t sure it was unintentional.  McMahon tapping aimlessly on his keyboard, feigning incompetence with technology in order to avoid listening to a DC bureaucrat’s orders via Skype come to mind.

This is a big role for Brad Pitt.  Hollywood’s quintessential leading man, an actor that has spent his life maintaining a top of the line physical appearance, playing parts that make the ladies swoon, gets a douse of McMahon style humility himself.

This is the first time I’ve seen him play someone with gray hair, someone who is admittedly older and too busy to hide the fact with an army of stylists.  Pitt plays McMahon as a gruff and grizzled old soldier, a man with a hand that has been mangled, who walks as though his body is in pain from years of being pushed to the limit.

Even more surprisingly, Pitt’s character has an age appropriate wife, Jeannie (Meg Tilly). Seeing Pitt snuggle up to a gray haired woman who is light years from looking like Angelina Jolie is nothing I thought I’d ever see on film.  Yet, in doing so, Pitt pulls off some of the best acting of his career, namely, convincing us that he could love a woman his age.

This is also a big film for Netflix.  The Internet streaming service spent $60 million on this film and it shows.  The result is a movie that could have been screened in movie theaters across the country had they chosen to go that route.  Brad Pitt is, by my best estimate, the biggest star Netflix has ever recruited for one of its original productions, thus proving that this company is in the movie game to win it, and the future of film is streaming.

For me, that’s a dubious prospect as I love the experience of going to see a film in a theater, though lately I wonder if saving cinema is not a cause as lost as Afghanistan.

Overall, the film asks a lot of questions and paints modern warfare in a not so rose colored light.  Bottomline – these days it sucks to be a man in uniform.  You’re expected to win, but you’re also told by bureaucrats to lose, except they don’t use the “l” word.  They won’t come right out and tell you they want you to lose, just that you should not ask for all the things you need to win.  You should essentially rubber stamp their losing plans and act like you can’t tell their plans are going to lose.

Meanwhile on the battlefield, soldiers are torn between their inner need to, you know, shoot at people who are shooting at them in order to live another day.  Yet, DC has made it clear that screw-ups (i.e. accidentally shooting a civilian) will not be tolerated and punished severely.

Ultimately, the film lampoons the idea of counter-insurgency, or the idea that men from a foreign land with guns can somehow talk the locals into siding with them against the bad man with guns that are already there.  In one heartbreaking scene, McMahon addresses residents of a territory that US forces have taken control of that he’s there to help build roads, build jobs, to protect them and so on.  A villager informs the General that all sounds great, but he has no doubt the US will eventually cut and run and when they do, the bad guys will destroy all the infrastructure that was built and punish the villagers for cooperating with the US troops.

Between desk jockeys trying to manage something they can’t comprehend, the media turning real stories of war into trashy tabloid TV and a clash of cultures (is it really wise for America to assume that they can turn third world wastelands into smaller versions of America?), the film leaves the viewer with the sad feeling that modern wars may, in fact, may never be winnable again.

STATUS:  Shelf-worthy.  Stream it on Netflix.

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Johnson/Hanks 2020

Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and Tom Hanks jokingly claimed on SNL a plan to run for President and Vice-President on the season finale of SNL last night.

Would you vote for them?  Something tells me that just becomes the Trumpster won doesn’t mean that it would work for any celebrity.

Sigh.  The Rock is right though.  America is only in agreement on one thing – that these two are great.  Getting into politics would ruin that for them.  After all, the best anyone can ever do as President is to make 50% of the people happy at any given time.

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 56

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President Vincenzo “Vinny” Stugotz sat in front of a mirror of his presidential dressing room while a team of servants ran around, prepping him for his day. Two servants lowered a one-foot tall, jet black pompadour on the President’s bald cranium and stapled it to his scalp.

“Ouch,” the President said as the staples entered his skin. “So painful and yet, so swanky.”

The President ran a comb through his luxurious faux hair while two more servants brought over an array of spray cans. “Shall we go with Tropical Surprise or Mediterranean Madness today, sir?”

“Hmm,” President Stugotz said. “You know, I’m feeling a little extra pale today. Let’s go with the Maui Madness.”

“Maui Madness it is, sir,” a servant said. The President popped two plastic eye guards over his eyeballs while the servants shook up their spray cans. Soon, the Commander-in-Chief was being doused in the face with a hefty application of spray on tanning solution.

“Ahh,” the President said as he admired his look in the mirror. “So brown I wouldn’t even let myself in the country!”

There was a knock on the door. “Sir, are you decent?”

“OMG,” President Stugotz said. “Who would dare disturb me at this ungodly hour?”

“It’s eleven a.m. sir,” came the voice from the other side of the door.

“That early?” President Stugotz said. “The sacrifices I make for my country. Come in, Bob.”

Bob Breckenridge, the President’s buzz cut sporting Chief-of-Staff, stepped in only to find a butt naked POTUS.

“Sir,” Breckenridge said. “Seal Team Ten is waiting outside and oh…oh my…”

“Don’t act like you’ve never seen an executive branch before, Bob,” the President said as he turned to his servants. “Black suit number ninety-seven. Elongated red power tie number fifty-two. Make it snappy.”

The servants whirled around the President, dressing him up nice and stylish. Once he was fully clothed, he looked at his dutiful subordinate.

“Bob,” the President said. “I’ve been glued to Network News One. Literally glued. I can’t take my eyes off of it. I’ve been Lifeboxing all of their coverage.”

“I once again must ask that you run all of your Lifebox comments by the cabinet, sir,” Breckenridge said. “‘The Hotass Blonde Chicks need to have twenty percent bigger titties’ is not presidential at all.”

“I thought I was being restrained,” President Stugotz said. “Really, ninety-percent would be better. I mean, those reporter ladies have some incredibly big titties already, but if you ask me, only ridiculously, absurdly, cartoonishly large breasts will do.”

“Right,” Breckenridge said. “Anyway, sir. Are you ready for your top secret mission?”

“Of course,” the President said. “Let’s move.”

President Stugotz and Breckenridge exited the bedroom and proceeded to walk down a long hallway, surrounded by the members of Seal Team Ten. Each member was clad in black body armor and helmets that covered their faces. They carried automatic weapons. They spoke through microphones in their helmets.

“The Eagle is on the move,” one member said. “Repeat, the Eagle is on the move.”

“Copy,” another member said. “Exterminate all threats with extreme prejudice.”

“Bob,” President Stugotz said. “I want to be straight with you. This mission is not for the feint of heart and frankly, some of us might not be coming back so if you want to run away like a little school girl in pigtails, now is the time.”

“No way, sir,” Breckenridge said. “I signed up to stand by your side as you lead America into a new age of glory and nothing will scare me away.”

“That’s a tremendous response, Bob,” the President said. “Really, classy. Big time classiness.”

The contingent stopped at an elevator. Breckenridge typed in a long numeric code and pressed his thumb onto an identification plate. The elevator doors opened and the contingent entered.

“Has the site been thoroughly swept?” President Stugotz asked.

“Indeed, sir,” one of the seal team members said. “The K9 unit just made a pass through and reported no hits.”

“Excellent,” President Stugotz said. “That’s amazing. Really fabulous. You’re all aces in my book. Aces.”

The elevator began to descend deep underneath the White House. The floors ticked off on the readout. “Sublevel 1, Sublevel 2, Sublevel 3…”

“Mr. President,” Breckenridge said. “I must admit, the polls on your response to the Toilet Killer situation are not good.”

“No, they aren’t, Bob,” the President said. “That’s why you need to get the FBI Director on the phone and get that lady agent pulled off the case.”

“Is it really proper to interfere with an investigation, sir?” Breckenridge asked.

“Is it really proper to keep allowing honest, hard-working Americans to be murdered while they’re shitting, Bob?” the President asked. “Good God, man. Use your head. Every shitter that’s murdered is a potential voter and one less person who will show up to vote for me in 2020. Batzengant and Wannadingle are busting a nut every time the Toilet Killer strikes because they know people will never vote for a President who allowed a Toilet Killer to kill indiscriminately and with reckless abandon on his watch. Like those asshats could do any better, they couldn’t get a bill through the Senate with a bucket a grease and an offer for a free hooker for everyone on Capitol Hill.”

“I’m told that Agent Walker is highly respected in law enforcement circles,” Breckenridge said.

The elevator continued to drop. “Sublevel 45, sub level 46, sub level 47…”

“Yeah,” President Stugotz said. “But you heard that hayseed Mayor on TV. Agent Walker has a vagina and frankly, that’s an excellent point.”

“That she has a vagina, sir?” Breckenridge asked.

“Exactly,” President Stugotz said. “I mean, it’s not her fault that she has one, sure, but I concur with the Mayor of Sitwell on this one. Only a big, beautiful man with a giant penis will be able to solve this most confounding case and we need to get it solved quick so I can get back to the very important business of Making America Fabulous again. I promised my voters a fabulous America and by God, they will get a fabulous America.”

“Well,” Breckenridge said. “I’ve been going through the FBI files and it just so happens that Agent Walker’s partner, Agent Bishop, has an extraordinary large penis, so big, in fact, that the FBI’s head physician classified it as a ‘medical oddity.’”

“I don’t even want to know why you’re looking up FBI agent penis sizes, Bob,” President Stugotz said.

“I like to be thorough, sir,” Breckenridge said.

The elevator stopped at sub-level 101. The contingent exited and began walking through a long, dark hallway. They came to the first door and a robotic voice came through a loudspeaker.

“Retina identification, please.”

President Stugotz shoved his eyeball up to a scanner. The door opened. The contingent walked down yet another long hallway.

“Whatever,” President Stugotz said. “Take Agent Walker off. Put Agent Bishop in charge.”

“Will do, sir,” Breckenridge said.

“Americans cannot be afraid to shit anymore,” the President said. “No one’s going to be scared to take a shit on my watch.”

The contingent stopped at another door. “Breath identification, please.”

President Stugotz breathed on a scanner. The door opened and the contingent headed down yet another hallway.

“Are we ready for this shit, Bob?” President Stugotz asked.

“All safety precautions have been taken, sir,” Breckenridge said. “The Air Force has scrambled its best fighter jet pilots to keep watch overhead, while our best tank battalion has arrived on the White House front lawn.”

“Fantastic,” President Stugotz said.

The contingent reached a final door. “Voice identification, please.”

“President Vinny Stugotz, here,” the President said.

The door opened as the robotic voice replied, “President Stugotz voice identification scan complete. All hail President Stugotz.”

The contingent entered a top secret, underground bathroom with black walls, floors, and a sleek, stylish toilet in the center of the room. Five secret service agents wearing dark sunglasses stood around the toilet, with their arms folded behind their backs.

“Sir,” one of the agents said. “Ready for waste elimination when you are, sir.”

President Stugotz turned the members of Seal Team Ten. “Are we a go?”

“Waiting on your go code, sir,” one of the members said.

President Stugotz held up his wrist and played with the buttons on his watch. “Synchronize your watches on my mark…mark!”

All seals and secret service agents adjusted their watches accordingly.

“Go code alpha bravo charlie one one zero one one niner five,” President Stugotz said.

“Go code is a solid copy,” one of the seals said. “Confirmation code beta beta hawkeye delta one seven four. Proceed when ready.”

President Stugotz dropped his pants and sat on the toilet.
One seal held up a sniper rifle. “Sniper unit standing by.”

A second seal held up a jagged tactical knife. “Hand to hand combat unit, standing by.”

A third seal held up a can of air freshener and sprayed a cherry vanilla scent into the room. “Air freshener unit standing by.”

The agents and seals formed a circler around the toilet and turned their backs to give the President some privacy.

“Maybe I should just step outside,” Breckenridge said.

The President strained his bowels. “Ergh…ugh…no. Don’t be silly. This is going to be a working shit, Bob. I’ve got more orders for you.”

“Very good, sir,” Breckenridge replied.

“Aargh,” the President said as his face turned red. “Damn it, this is going to be awhile. I know I should have listened to the First Lady about those damn bran muffins.”

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Toilet Gator – Network News One Transcript #5

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Network News One Transcript #5

KURT MANLEY: Witnesses on the scene said the manatees ate every last one of the environmentalist protesters, causing the workers on the oil rig to laugh and laugh and laugh some more. Talk about cruel irony.

(Kurt looks at a different camera.)

KURT MANLEY: Good morning, USA. If you’re just joining us, I’m Kurt Manley, America’s Favorite News Anchor. You’re watching Network News One, the only channel with the hottest blonde chick reporters with the biggest titties. Oh yeah, and occasionally we report the news and shit.

(A graphic pops up to Kurt’s right. It depicts a toilet with a big giant X stamped on it.)

KURT MANLEY: And now for our top story. “America’s Shitting Nightmare.” The toilet killer has struck again, this time taking the life of Adelaide Hotchkiss, an elderly stripper better known to the patrons of the Sitwell, Florida erotic entertainment nightclub Big Ray-Ray’s House of Fancy Funbags by her stage name, “Roxy.”

(An obese man with a long beard, sunglasses, and a stained shirt appears on screen, speaking into a microphone.)

BIG RAY-RAY: Aw, hell yeah it’s sadder than a monkey fucking a football in this joint ever since we learned about Old Roxy. She wasn’t my prettiest stripper, or even my best one but dammit, that gal has never missed a day of work since 1987. From the Reagan Era all through the 1990s and 2000s, if there’s been one constant around here, it’s been Roxy’s big, gelatin filled ass working its way all over the sweatpants clad crotches of all of my discerning gentlemen customers. That’s why, in Roxy’s honor, all lap dances will be fifty percent off for the rest of the day and I’m gonna knock a dollar off the cost of the all you can eat hot wing bar. It’s the least I can do.

(KURT MANLEY, back in studio)

KURT MANLEY: Four grizzly murders in two days. All of the victims evacuating their bowels on the toilet when they met their doom. This has caused widespread panic in Florida, where residents have become so scared of sitting on the crapper that they’ve been coming up with new methods of eliminating their bodily waste. Here’s a Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties with more on this story.

(NATALIE BROCK appears on camera, standing in front of the Sitwell Police Station. She is wearing her blonde wig and her bra is stuffed with ripe melons.)

NATALIE BROCK: That’s right, Kurt. The latest development in the Toilet Killer’s non-stop murder spree is that Floridians are scared too shit! I conducted a series of man on the street interviews to find out why people are so terrified of the toilet. Check out these results.

(NATALIE’S man on the street interviews begin. First, an average looking guy in a polo T-shirt.)

RANDOM MAN: I have had to go for nearly thirty-five hours now, but I’ve been holding it.

NATALIE BROCK: Why?

RANDOM MAN: I do not want to end up like Countess Cucamonga or any of those other people. If I don’t shit then the Toilet Killer can’t get me.

NATALIE BROCK: Thirty-five hours. That’s some amazing sphincter control right there.

RANDOM MAN: Yes, I’m very proud of myself.

NATALIE BROCK: Still, that’s a long time. Aren’t you worried that you’ll eventually lose control and…

RANDOM MAN: No, ma’am. I’m in peak physical condition. I can hold it for as long as I need to and….ERGH…

(The man’s face turns red. NATALIE waves the air away from her nose.)

RANDOM MAN: Nevermind.

NATALIE BROCK VOICEOVER: Yes, while some citizens have tried holding it, others have turned to less traditional methods of shit disposal.

(NATALIE confronts a man wearing a T-shirt from his favorite rock band. He’s standing next to a pile of cardboard boxes and holding one of them up in the air.)

BOX SALESMAN: Get your shit boxes! Get your shit boxes! Fifty bucks for a shit box!

(An old man performs an impromptu “I need to shit dance” as he walks up to the salesman and forks over some cash).

OLD MAN: Give me one of those!

BOX SALESMAN: Pleasure doing business with you, sir.

NATALIE BROCK: Sir, are you profiteering off of a tragedy?

BOX SALESMAN: Are you kidding me? I’m performing a service here, lady. People need to shit. Toilets aren’t safe. A cardboard box is the next thing.

NATALIE BROCK: But fifty dollars for a cardboard box is outrageous.

BOX SALESMAN: I went to a lot of trouble to get these boxes. I had to run around town swiping them from liquor stores and grocery stores all day. Look, people need to shit and I’m giving them a safe alternative.

NATALIE’S VOICEOVER: While concerned citizens are turning to non-traditional shit holding containers, some are just going au natural.

(A young couple walk through a park, holding hands. They cop a squat next to a tree, drop their pants, and let it rip. Black bars appear over their private areas.)

NATALIE’S VOICEOVER: Some are even predicting the end of days.

(A homeless man wearing a trash bag as a shirt walks up and down a street, ringing a bell. Over his trash bag shirt, he wears a sandwich board sign that reads, ‘Repent All Ye Shitters!’”

HOMELESS MAN: The end of the world draws nigh! Shit and be damned!

NATALIE BROCK: Sir, do you really think the Toilet Killer is worth all this fuss?

HOMELESS MAN: Yes! The Toilet Killer is one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse! First, it’s the Toilet Killer, killing you while you shit! Next it will come the Urinal Killer, who will chop off your dick with a butcher knife while you take you a piss!

NATALIE BROCK: That’s a rather grim prognostication.

HOMELESS MAN: Indeed! Next comes the Bidet Killer. He’ll shoot you in the ass while you’re just trying to clean your rear-end and finally, the Bath Tub killer will destroy all who try to tidy up. I haven’t taken a bath since the first George Bush was president and everyone laughed at me but who’s laughing now, huh? Who’s laughing now?! Muah ha ha!

NATALIE BROCK’S VOICEOVER: A handful of residents continue to brave the porcelain throne, but not without taking extreme cautionary measures.

(NATALIE is lead to the bathroom of Freedom Firepower by MOSES. There, she finds Felix on the can holding a twelve-gauge shotgun. His privates are covered by a black bar.)

MOSES: Ma’am, this here is America, land of the free and home of the brave. In 1776, George Washington swam across the Atlantic, cock punched King George and said, “Listen you limey fuck stick, America is ours now, so cut all the bullshit if you don’t want another cockpunch.” George Washington then swam back to America where he then proceeded to round house kick every last red coat in the face until they all begged for mercy.

NATALIE BROCK: I’m not sure you have the best grasp on history, sir.

MOSES: And you sound like a raging liberal cook burger who wants to perform cunnilingus on Hillary Clinton, ma’am.

NATALIE BROCK: Let’s move on.

MOSES: Yes. Anyway, all I’m saying is this is America. King George couldn’t keep it and we’ve defended it from all sorts of enemies over the years, ranging from the Nazis to the damn terrorists and now we’ve got a Toilet Killer out there, running amuck. People, you can’t stop shitting on your toilets because if you stop shitting on toilets then the Toilet Killer wins.

NATALIE BROCK: But what about people who are afraid of becoming the Toilet Killer’s next victim?

MOSES: Simple, ma’am. Come on down to Freedom Firepower and for the low, low price of a thousand dollars, you can take a shit in my customer bathroom, which I have turned into the most secure shit parlor in the land.

NATALIE BROCK: What security measures have you taken?

MOSES: Well, as you can see, my hetero life partner Felix is packing a twelve-gauge. That’s fully loaded and can blow a hole the size of a trash can lid through an assailant at ten paces. We’ll give you one of those to hold onto while you’re taking a dump because when it comes to safety, the first line of defense comes from the shitter him or herself. Yes, I said “herself” because we’re not going to discriminate against you if you’re a woman. The lady folk need protection while they shit too.

NATALIE BROCK: Any other precautions?

MOSES: Yes.

(MOSES points out five different cameras lining the walls, all pointed at the toilet)

MOSES: Five, count ‘em five HD security cameras will capture all the action, so if the Toilet Killer dares show his ugly face in here, we will get a positive ID on the perpetrator.

NATALIE BROCK: Will that footage be erased after your customers use the bathroom?

MOSES: I can’t comment on that but it will not be uploaded on a website called “HD Bathroom Footage” where subscriptions will be sold for $29.99 a month, that I can assure you.

NATALIE BROCK: Anything else?

(MOSES holds up a high-powered assault rifle)

MOSES: Yes, I of course, will be standing watch over you while you move your bowels and any and all intruders who dare to enter into my line of sight will be cut down posthaste. No one is going to kill any shitters on my watch.

NATALIE BROCK: Is that all?

(MOSES flips a switch. A grid of red lasers fills the bathroom.)

MOSES: These lasers are connected to C4 rigged explosive devices that I have packed into the walls, so whatever you do, don’t make any sudden moves.

NATALIE BROCK: But won’t that also kill the person on the toilet?

MOSES: It’s called “mutually assured self destruction,” ma’am. Simply put, if the Toilet Killer tries to kill one of my shitting customers, he will have to kill himself in the process. I’m willing to be good money that the Toilet Killer is such a coward that he would never dare put himself in danger and therefore all my customers will be safe while they shit.

NATALIE: Mutually assured self-destruction, you say?

MOSES: Yes. It’s the same reason why America and Russia have all those nukes. Every country needs to stock up on nukes to keep all the other countries with nukes from nuking them. If everyone has a nuke, then everyone will be afraid to drop a nuke. The more nukes in the world, the safer the world is. That’s just science.

NATALIE: Well, I suppose you can’t argue with science.

NATALIE VOICEOVER: I caught up with Mayor Dufresne to obtain his views on the matter.

(Mayor Dufresne appears in his car lot, holding up a bag of adult diapers next to a porta-potty.)

THE MAYOR: Howdy, y’all! This Toilet Killer really is an insufferable Son of a Bitch, ain’t he? Well, I’ll tell you what, Mayor Beaumont Dufresne isn’t about to allow his constituency to suffer. No siree, Bob! Y’all mosey on over to Mayor Beaumont Dufresne’s Slightly Used Car Emporium and for a hundred dollars, you can take a shit in one of the many ports-potties I have had trucked onto my lot. The Toilet Killer hasn’t struck a porta-potty yet, so I have no doubt y’all will be safe in one of my outhouses.

NATALIE BROCK: Mayor, that’s nice, but what about…

THE MAYOR: The shitter on the go? No problem. I have bought up every last adult diaper in Grover County, so come on down and I will outfit you with some man-sized disposable underpants for the low price of seventy-five dollars a pair.

NATALIE BROCK: Actually, I wanted to get your thoughts on the investigation.

THE MAYOR: Oh, it’s a shambles, my dear. An absolute shambles. Four people have been killed on the John in less than two days, two of those people right here in Sitwell and do you know what that incompetent boob Chief Walker did?

NATALIE BROCK: What?

THE MAYOR: He went in hauled in my boy Buford for questioning. The boy’s simple and slower than a pile of molasses running down hill in January and anyone could take one look at him and realize the kid can barely zip up his own fly let alone plot and carry out a series of toilet murders with cunning precision. Yet, that idiot Walker wasted the taxpayers’ time and money harassing my boy when he could have been out there looking for the real killer.

NATALIE BROCK: So I take it you think the investigation is not going well?

THE MAYOR: Not at all. That’s why this morning I called upon the town counsel and drew up the papers necessary to have all of Sitwell’s police functions transferred over into the very competent hands of Sheriff Hammond.

(The Mayor knocks on a porta-potty door)

THE MAYOR: Sheriff, can you come out and have a word with the press?

SHERIFF HAMMOND: Ungh…one second.

(The Sheriff steps out of the porta-potty and buckles up his belt.)

SHERIFF HAMMOND: Yes, good people of Sitwell, have no fear, for Chief Walker’s reign of terror as the town’s worst ever officer of the law is over. I’m proud to announce that all Sitwell police officers will from here on become Grover County Sheriff’s Deputies.

NATALIE BROCK: Will there be any cutbacks?

(The SHERIFF pulls out a piece of paper and puts on a pair of reading glasses.)

SHERIFF HAMMOND: Yes, ma’am. I hold in my hand here a list of the Sitwell Police Department officers who did not make the final cut. Ahem. ‘Chief Cole Walker.’ That is all.

(THE MAYOR and THE SHERIFF laugh in a maniacal manor.)

NATALIE BROCK: Mr. Mayor, will removing Chief Walker from office really have any impact on this investigation? After all, Sharon Walker is the FBI agent in charge.

THE MAYOR: Yes, and it’s a crying shame she is, because frankly darling, and I don’t mean any offense, but I really don’t think that anyone with a vagina is up to the challenge of bringing in the Toilet Killer. What we need is a man with a big ole’ swingin’ dick to catch this vile fiend. That’s why I am, as of now, calling on President Stugotz to intervene and take Agent Walker off of this investigation. Anyone who married a man with a penis as small as the one that ex-Chief Walker is packing has exercised poor judgment, in my humble opinion, and can no longer be trusted with such a sensitive investigation. People’s lives are at stake.

NATALIE BROCK: That’s a very serious claim.

THE MAYOR: These are very serious times, my dear. Very serious times indeed.

(NATALIE reappears live in front of the Sitwell Police Station.)

NATALIE BROCK: Kurt, ex-Chief Walker refused to return any of my calls for comment, but it seems as though things are heating up behind the scenes, with the investigators themselves coming under heavy fire.

KURT MANLEY: An interesting development indeed, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties. By the way, I’m told by our top notch team of attorneys here at Network News One that we are able to reveal a very big secret to our audience, is that correct?

NATALIE BROCK: Yes, Kurt. During the Toilet Killer’s rampage, someone, and I’m fairly certain it was the Toilet Killer himself, texted my cell phone, providing me with updates on his gruesome crimes. Upstanding citizen that I am, I reported this matter to Agent Walker and having been holding back on this information out of fear that publicly divulging it could jeopardize the investigation. However, Agent Walker has confirmed to me as of this morning that the results of her inquiry into the text messages came up inconclusive, and the Toilet Killer is no closer to being captured.

KURT MANLEY: Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties, I am stunned that Agent Walker is fumbling this case big time. I mean, you gave Agent Walker your phone with text messages on it from the killer. What more evidence could she possibly need?

NATALIE BROCK: We can only assume those messages were from the killer, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Don’t interrupt a man while he’s speaking, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties.

NATALIE BROCK: I’m sorry, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: As you should be. I’m just pointing out that Agent Walker seems to be screwing up this case big time and a monkey wearing a Sherlock Holmes hat would probably be better suited to lead the investigation at this point. Maybe the Mayor is right. Maybe it’s time for someone without a vagina to take a look into this matter.

NATALIE BROCK: I’ll be staying on this case as it develops, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Thank you, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties. Sticking with this story, while the toilet killer’s rampage has, so far, been concentrated in Florida, people across the country and around the world have voiced their own concerns about shitting.

(Footage is shown of people throwing toilets into the streets and smashing them with hammers and baseball bats.)

KURT MANLEY: Riots have broken out in every major city, with people smashing their toilets to smithereens, too afraid to even keep them in their homes anymore. Meanwhile, our intrepid team of Hot Ass Blonde Chick Reporters with Big Titties have informed this anchor that reports of shitting related fears have been coming in from every continent. Even scientists in Antartica are concerned…

(Footage shows of a scientist in a fluffy down parka with the hood pulled over his head squatting over a hole in the ice while a gaggle of penguins watch.)

KURT MANLEY: The Pope even commented on the situation during a recent mass at the Vatican…

(Footage of the Pope addressing a mass.)

THE POPE: Il poopi di poopi poopi si como ti poopi poopi il shitti shitti….

VOICE OVER TRANSLATOR: As Jesus once said, ‘Let he who is not afraid to take a shit cast the first shit.’ Blessed are the meek shitters, for they shall inherit the earth.

KURT MANLEY: And Sir Alistair Smythe, Official Spokesman for the Queen of England, had this to say.

(Footage of a rather dapper looking British gentleman in front of a podium.)

SIR ALISTAIR SMYTHE: Ladies and Gentlemen, the Queen very much appreciates your inquiries into her water closet related safety but I assure you, this is a non-issue. The Queen is not afraid to shit for the simple fact that Her Majesty has never once taken a shit in her entire life. Everyone knows that members of the royalty do not shit. Rather, their waste spontaneously combusts while a feint scent of cinnamon emanates from their bodily cavity.

(SIR SMYTHE looks around to see if the coast is clear.)

SIR ALISTAIR SMYTHE: But if you can keep it on the down low, then I might be inclined to inform you that Her Majesty will be taking her shits in the corner and blaming it on her adorable Corgis for the foreseeable future.

(Kurt, back in studio)

KURT MANLEY: Back at home, the presidential election is years away, yet President Stugotz’ top 2020 challengers are already turning the Toilet Killer’s wide swath of destruction into a campaign issue. Live via satellite feed, we have Senator Jason Batzengant, who intends to challenge President Stugotz in the next Republican presidential primary, and Senator Elsie Wannadingle, the Democratic frontrunner. Senators, welcome.

SENATOR BATZENGANT: Thank you.

SENATOR WANNADINGLE: Good to be here, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Senator Batzengant, let’s start with you. President Stugotz’s national approval ratings are stagnant, yet among Republican voters, they’re higher than ever. What makes you think you’d be able to knock Stugotz off the throne?

SENATOR BATZENGANT: I’ve got two words for you, Kurt. “Toilet Killer Insanity.”

KURT MANLEY: That’s three words, Senator.

SENATOR BATZENGANT: Don’t try to trip me up with your fancy liberal book learning, Kurt. This Toilet Killer situation is a mess and President Stugotz has done nothing about it. President Stugotz promised to be a law and order president, one who would bring criminals to justice and yet he’s done nothing but play one round of golf after another while Florida residents are being murdered simply for exercising their constitutional right to shit.

KURT MANLEY: I’m not sure there is a constitutional right to shit, Senator.

SENATOR BATZENGANT: It’s in the back, somewhere. Listen, we need a president who isn’t going to be a little pussy boy, coddling criminals while God-fearing, taxpaying Americans are cowering in their bathrooms, scared to death of their own toilets and too afraid to shit. That’s why, when I’m president, I’m going to lock up anyone who has even looked at a toilet cross-eyed. That’s right, I am going to flood our prison industrial complex with people who fit a very distinct potential Toilet Killer profile and only then will it be safe to shit again.

KURT MANLEY: Senator Wannadingle, your thoughts?

SENATOR WANNADINGLE: Kurt, that blowhard conservative jackass has it all wrong.

SENATOR BATZENGANT: Don’t call me a blowhard conservative, you commie pinko rug chomper.

KURT MANLEY: Let’s retract the claws, kittens. 2020 is still a long way away.

SENATOR WANNADINGLE: All I was trying to say before I was so rudely interrupted by that jack booted fascist is that it is not very woke to assume this Toilet Killer is a bad person.

KURT MANLEY: But he’s killing people while they’re shitting on the toilet.

SENATOR WANNADINGLE: Is he? Or is he expressing his rage at a system that puts the one percent of millionaires and billionaires above the impoverished classes. Maybe this Toilet Killer, maybe he’s a man, maybe he’s a woman, maybe he or she is a bisexual genderqueer other-kin with ambidextrous bilateral gender fluid anti-normative tendencies…we don’t know. What we can only assume though is this human being has most likely had a difficult life and after many years of being put upon by an unjust system, this person is finally lashing out so really, when you really think about it, we all had a role in creating this system so in essence, we are all the Toilet Killer.

(KURT MANLEY stares blankly into the camera.)

KURT MANLEY: Holy shit. Are you two really considered the best and brightest of your respective political parties?

SENATOR BATZENGANT: Yes Kurt.

SENATOR WANNADINGLE: You know it.

(Kurt sighs and looks at a different camera.)

KURT MANLEY: Well, there you have it, folks. A Toilet Killer is on the loose and the country’s leaders have officially flushed their brains down the toilet. Don’t touch that dial and stay off the toilet as we’ll be bringing you the latest updates on America’s Shitting Nightmare. Coming up in the next hour, is there a cookie that can make you go blind? We’ll tell you which cookies to remove from your cookie jar after sports and weather but first, these commercial messages.

ANNOUNCER: Network News One. The Hottest Blonde Chick Reporters. The biggest titties. Oh yeah, and occasionally we report the news and shit.

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Conspiracy Corner with Tin Hat Ted – Are You a Lizard Person? Take this Handy Quiz and Find Out!

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By:  Tin Hat Ted, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Conspiracy Theorist

Ahh, the lizard people.  They live among us, you know, biding their time, working their scaly ways into positions of high social standing, waiting for the precise moment to strike and then BAM!  They embrace their true forms and we end up as their slaves.

Fun fact though.  Not every lizard person is aware that he or she is a lizard person.  Some lizard people have been wearing their human skin suits for so long that they went and forgot that they are lizard people, swapping out their fake human identities as their own.

Your neighbor, doctor, lawyer, proctologist, butcher, baker, or candlestick maker might be a dirty, disgusting lizard person!  Maybe your wife, your brother, sister, uncle or dog walker appears human on the outside but on the inside, they’re nothing but no good, dirty rotten, scaly ass sons of bitches.

Even worse….YOU could be a lizard person and not even know it.

But don’t freak out yet.  Take this handy quiz, for it is the only way to know if you’re a true blue human or a lizard person bent on world domination.

#10 – Do you like to eat flies?

Look, I’m not talking about that time you stuck your head out the car window while the car was rolling down the highway to get some fresh air because your cousin in the back seat farted and a bug flew down your throat.

If you gagged on that bug and were disgusted by the experience, good for you.  If you thought, “Hmm, this bug it tasty” then you could be a dirty lizard person.

(By the way, I don’t care how bad that fart was, keep your damn head in the car because sticking it out while the car is moving is a good way to lose your head.  You want your mother to have to go to your funeral and you don’t even have a head anymore?)

Ultimately, one or two bugs in a lifetime is inconclusive.  However, if you find yourself sitting down to a heaping bowl full of flies, bugs, wasps and other assorted insects then yes, you’re a lizard person.

#9 – You Think About Global Domination Twenty Times a Day

Less than twenty times a day?  You’re just an average human politician of any political party.

More than twenty?  Lizard person.

#8 – You Have Red Eyes in All of Your Photos

You definitely want to get your camera checked first but if it’s a finely calibrated machine then yes, it’s going to pick up the redness of your eyes underneath your faux human eyeballs.

#7 – Dogs Don’t Like You

Dogs are friendly as all get out so unless its a dog with a bad attitude, then it’s barking at you because he’s trying to tell all the humans around, “Bark, bark!  That’s a damn lizard person!”

#6 – You Have Detachable Genitalia

Fun fact.  All human suits worn by lizard people come with detachable genitalia.  Lizard people simply detach their fake human dongs and cooters after sex, pop them in the dish washer and presto, change-o!  They’re good as new and fresh as a daisy!

The good news?  Your nether regions are very sanitary.  The bad news?  You’re a lizard person.

#5 –  You’ve Been Receiving Strange Magazines

Suspicious titles (that you don’t remember ordering) include:

  • Lizard People Weekly?
  • Global Domination Times
  • Pretending to Be Human on a Dollar a Day
  • Lizard Fashions
  • Gourmet Bug Cooking

#4 – All of Your Relatives Are Lizard People 

In public, lizard people wear their human skin suits and never tell any humans about their plans for global domination.

In private, lizard people pop those human suits off and let their scaly butts hang out.  If a bunch of lizard people have shown their true forms to you, then I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you, but you’re one of them and they already know it.

Lizard people wouldn’t trust you with the knowledge that they are lizard people unless you are part of their lizard family.

#3 –  You Can Lick Your Own Eyeballs

Partially disgusting.  Partially awesome.  Ultimately, not normal tongue behavior.

#2 – You Have Strange Thoughts

“I want to conquer the world!”

“All must bow down to me!”

“Bugs are tasty!”

If you’ve ever had any of these thoughts, you’re probably a lizard person.

#1 – That One Time Your Face Fell Off and You Looked In the Mirror and Saw You are a Damn Lizard Person

Truly, the most undeniable evidence.  If your human face fell off and you found yourself staring at a lizard person in the mirror, then there’s no getting around the fact that you are a lizard person.

In Conclusion…

If you suffer from any of the above conditions, then I’m sorry, but you’re a lizard person. Please report to your nearest lizard person detention center immediately.

Do you think you might be a lizard person?  Report yourself in the comments…

 

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This is Not Donald J. Trump (Trump Impression)

I’ve hit the big time, 3.5 readers.  I have been lampooned by Not Donald J. Trump:

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