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Tag Archives: children
Easter Present
This is a time of celebration. Both Jesus and, more recently, Scumbag Style have risen from the dead. Thus we are proud to re-offer our free Easter paint-by-numbers printout! Give it to your kids, give it to your retarded cousin, give it to your girlfriend with a tab of ecstasy. Anybody who cares to hold a crayon is sure to dig it – – and it’s free, so I know you’ll be happy, you cheap fuck.
Victoria´s Victim
Zombie Jesus has claimed another soul, and never is it so hard as when that soul belongs to a young, blond, white woman from America. Kylie Bisutti (pictured, duh) was doing some wonderful missionary work for Victoria’s Secret in malls and catalogues around the world when the worst happened. She found religion. She had always had religion, but it had apparently been lost in the couch cushions for some time. It was like when a cheerleader loses her car keys. She’ll spend a month looking for them, but don’t be fooled by the act: most of the time she can’t remember what it was she was looking for. It was only more than eight years into being super hot for money that Kylie noticed some of her work didn’t square with what the curmudgeonly old impotents that run her specific brand of Christianity told her Jesus wants. So she had to make a choice between religion and happiness. As is so often the case, the tragic choice was made. Bisutti, who began her modeling career at age 14, said she isn’t giving up modeling. She said she is just being more careful about what kinds of jobs she takes. (ABC) Careful? That’s the terminology we’re going with? So, up until this point you’ve just been stumbling into jobs and out of clothes like a drunken, be-helmeted retard? “Oops, I wandered onto the catwalk of a multi-million dollar international fashion show in my underwear and high heels again.” She just has to be less clumsy, is all. Her life since she was 14 has been one long dream-I-just-had, only she was paid rather handsomely. Show a little more vigilance, and you can entirely avoid falling into corsets, getting your makeup done, and posing for photo shoots. Kylie Bisutti got her shot … Finish reading this sumbitch!
Puddin´ Parenting
By Sean ”The Younger, The Better” Torrie Oh Bill Cosby. You have made a whole new type of child abuse possible. Thank you for that. I know you didn’t do it on purpose, but I don’t think Enrico Fermi had a cold war in mind when he built that nuclear reactor. Now, I’ll be the first guy to say that I’m not a fan of Michelle Bachmann… No. No, that’s a lie. I’ll be one of many to say it. I’ll also say I think she might be crazy. Not fun-crazy either: “Did you invite her?” “No of course I didn´t, but she found out about the party so I had to say she could come.” crazy. So when I saw this video, in which a representative of the local Gay/Straight alliance gave Bachmann some hell, I said “Hell yea LGBT girls with silly dress code!” In two minutes they present a really solid problem with Bachmann’s philosophy, one that I hadn’t come up with myself. And I’m brilliant. It’s just straight up impressive seeing them get up the balls (take that how ever you want, just don’t get all emo on me) to put that woman on the spot in the middle of people clearly into what she’s got to say. So when I hear there’s a video of an even younger kid putting her in her place I say to myself, “There’s no way this is going to make me think poorly of the opposite opinion.” First: it took me like 10 viewings to get the volume up to a level I could both hear and wasn’t at risk of blowing my speakers. Second: that little boy is so damned uncomfortable saying what he’s been told to say that it took me 10 viewings to get the volume … Finish reading this sumbitch!
Hate Never Felt So Good
(Keep in mind, I abegan writing this article before the outrageously amazing game on Sunday in which the Patriots schooled Tim Tebow and Christ Hisself. The shitty part is, Tebow actually showed up to play this week, like he hasn´t since I´ve been paying attention. The article still holds true, but feel free to add a heavy undertone of smug, poor-winnerishness to the voice you have in your head while reading this. Or get Chris Daughtry to read it aloud to you in bed. He must be out of work by now.) When Peyton Manning died, or was raped insensate by mutant squirrels, or whatever happened to him so that he couldn´t play anymore, I admit I felt a little lost. I wasn´t sure my NFL experience would be as full, as magical, as fulfilling as it was when I had a clearly defined antagonist. Someone to hate passionately, almost for no good reason except that it was fun to watch him fail. And he usually delivered. Manning was as key to my enjoyment of football as the Patriots ever were. Careful what you wish for, as your mom said before she bit my dick. Peyton is gone, and the void he left nigh unfillable – – What´s that? The NFL has a special gift just for me? On Tim Tebow, Peyton Manning´s douche-pants actually look a little tight. Tim Tebow who plays like shit for three and half quarters, then happily divvies up the credit for a squeak-by win between himself and his fucking god. I mean, this guy is a real piece of canine fecal matter. While he´s luxuriating on his knees on the side-lines, his team is busy cleaning up his mess and pulling out another against-the-odds win. He´d contribute more in that position as a team … Finish reading this sumbitch!
Didn’t See It Reviews: “Ice Age: A Mammoth Christmas Special”
This Thanksgiving was to see the airing of the newest installment of Pliocene-Quarternary glacial period family entertainment, this time a holiday extravaganza titled, “Ice Age: The Quest to Sell Toys Again This Year.” Because nothing warms the yuletide diapers of kids from one to ninety-two like natural global disaster and the constant sub-conscious threat of species-wide extinction that backdrops everything Ray Romano touches. For all I know, that shit aired, but I don’t know, for two reasons. One: because I have recently relocated to a country in which literally all cartoons are translated into Spanish. Two: Because, fuck Ice Age, that’s por que. The core of the first movie seemed to be the unlikely fellowship of Ice Age era creatures, sporting the voices of comedians of varying talent that are living in an era directly preceding the next Ice Age. And like the meeting of these comedians, the characters (a mammoth, a saber-toothed tiger, an ugly rat thing, and something else I think) come together for basically the same reason: nothing better to do until they die. Good message for kids, I’m down. Then somewhere in this blandly amusing pile of family tripe, something went horribly wrong. Before we discuss this, yes, I am aware that it’s a fucking cartoon, and I need to not overthink it. I am also aware that the films make a feeble attempt to cover their asses on the issue. But I invite you to think of the kids when you realize that, no matter what contrived justification the writers of this franchise use, the second movie involved saving an Eskimo baby (or something), and then the third installment had something to do with dinosaurs. All the while, you must be this tall to ride the illumination train. Ice Age, do us a favor and … Finish reading this sumbitch!