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Tag Archives: god
Sexy Ed
By Ms Lori Hey there. My name is Lori, and I am here to take you to school. Yes, darling, I know you don’t want to go to school. There is just such a glut of elitist intellectual smarty-pants propaganda floating around this country, that we could all use a little less school and a little more common Bible sense. And not only that, book-learnin’ is so hard. So I thought that, as your teacher, maybe I could pop a few blouse buttons, put my finger in my mouth, and make you hard for education. Recent History 101 (If you know the story, you may skip this section, but I will be talking about my vagina, and it will be on the test. My vag, I mean. I dip it in red ink and leave a nice little lip hug for all my A students.)* I’d like to introduce you to Jessica Ahlquist. A lot of you may know her from the death threats you sent her and her family. Some of you may even remember promising to rape her, mostly from the safe, cowardly anonymity of the internet. Some of you have done it in person, in public, and for that I applaud you. For those of you who don’t know Jessica, she is female, like I totally am, and she is a sixteen year old high school student from Rhode Island. And she is an atheist, so her opinion doesn’t count. Still, Jessica is the newest champion of constitutional civil rights in the US, and many regard her as a hero. Just the excitement of her young age and her superior reasoning skills make my nips all hard. Go ahead, feel your screen. Can you feel that? I’m working on two semi-symmetrical avocado pits here. Nine months ago: … Finish reading this sumbitch!
Mark 13:6*
(In his game this week against the Patriots, Tebow threw for 136 yrds, hence the Biblical title. It was enough to get him a mere trouncing and just shy of getting the holy shit kicked out of him. Christians will contend that numbers only apply to Bible verses when they say so.) You guys, you guys. Either Jesus told Tebow to go screw himself this week or the inimitable New England Patriots are too awesome for God to handle. Perhaps both. What we do know is that Tim Tebow was soundly Old Yellered by history’s greatest QB. But that’s not the wacky part! Take a look at Tom Brady’s stats for this week’s Divisional Playoff game against The Broncos, Tim Tebow, and the pantheon of saints (not those Saints, dummy), angels, archangels, and lesser minions of God. If you take his Completion % and multiply it by his AVG, then subtract his total yards, then add his QB rating for the game, then add his TDs and (just to be fair) subtract one for his interception… Guess. Just guess. Or do the math, but that would be stupid because I’m going to tell you. 596.* * That is the very page Dumbledore died on in The Half-Blood Prince! (If that was a spoiler for you, well then maybe it shouldn’t take you 7 years to read a childrens’ book) Do you know what this means??? I mean, really? Neither do I. It could mean Snape did some awesome dark magic and made Brady have his best game of the season in a must win against those smug internet Xtian bitches of the previous week; it could mean the richest woman in Great Britain had some money on the game and had inside men; or it could mean fucking nothing because, … Finish reading this sumbitch!
This Man Is A Teacher
My dearest Tom Hoopes: I first encountered your work when a Catholic friend of mine pointed me toward an article in which you speak briefly about Christopher Hitchens, a great hero of mine who recently passed away. It was condescending as all get out, but it was chock full of underhanded compliments, and seemed to be relatively thoughtful. It is, of course, gratifying to see a great American champion of humanist ideals remembered fondly by members of the non-secular class, so I decided I might read some more of your work. The first article I read was entitled “Six Myths About Atheism,” and I have to say, the title excited me, because I assumed you were a man of thought, and perhaps you’d be spending your time dispelling some of the myths that are propagated amongst the religious about non-believers. The article turned out to be the epitome of those very lies: a carelessly thought out bigoted bit of blatant propaganda, a brainwashing tool to keep the hate for atheists alive among the religious. My first thought was of completely ignoring it. After all, ignorance abounds in your community, trying to change one mind in the sea of under-used brains you call a church leaves one feeling impotent and frustrated. As my beautiful wife put it, quoting someone else: “Never argue with an idiot. They´ll drag you down to their level, and beat you with experience.” On the other hand, several of my friends and readers across Facebook, Twitter, Reddit, etc. expressed concern that I said that all of your points were entirely wrong, your research was ass-on-fire, and your intentions were entirely malicious, so I decided that I might address your points and show you why you’re an untalented, proselytizing asshole. After all, even you said in your article … Finish reading this sumbitch!
No Porn???
A Classic, updated… Nothing is better than a wife that hasn’t grown so crusty, jaded, and complacent in her marriage that she can’t take a few minutes out of her busy schege to do something for her husband. A surprise dinner, a homemade card, a drink and slipper greeting, an asshole bleaching; dudes dig that shit, and it’s nice to remind him he hasn’t bought permanently into the life of ball mangling, future sapping, constant drunkitude Leah Ramini makes marriage out to be. Unfortunately (for the women at least), the more uncreative amongst the fairer sex are often left with constant sore-jaw for lack of any better ideas as to how to show their appreciation. If only there was a way to do that without actually doing anything. Enter Facebook, with a Group that firmly yanks our sacks out of the matrimonial Icy Hot with 31 ideas that allow a wife to indulge her narcissism and natural predilection toward condescension while pretending to do something sweet for her husband. Ladies, they’re all awesome, and they beat the bag out of giving that semi-annual “Relations With the Lights On” coupon he might actually grow the gumption to redeem one of these days. It’s called “31 Days of Prayer for Your Husband,” and it is even more preachy and self-serving (in a good way) than the title suggests. Contained in this set of solipsistic psalms is all the problem externalization and imagined solution outsourcing any pious Christian wife could possibly ask to put off the inevitable messy divorce for one whole month. Here’s one of my favorites: Day 1 – Lord, I pray that my husband will grow spiritually and consider his accountability before You. I pray that he will guard his heart by developing spiritual disciplines – Bible reading and study, … 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!
Don’t Get Surgery, Get An Agent
A few months back, Scumbag Style brought to your attention a serious parenting fail involving an Indian family and their miracle spider child that could have grown up to be New Delhi’s most badass masked avenger. Barring that, she could have remained the living Hindu godthe ignorant rurals had already made her, collecting riches and fame and endless cunnilingus from her personal harem. But no! They had to go and “fix” her, further homogenizing Eurasia into the blandest place that smells like shit on Earth, and not the comic book mecca of justice and cleavage it might have been, replete with onomatopoeic violence bubbles and grappling hooks. That was all not to mention the schooling she could potentially have given those Bollywood hussies, all tryin’ to use their inhuman sexiness to distract us from the fact their evolutionarily inferior number of extremities. But the surgery was a “success,” and now other parents are feeling empowered to deprive their children of their most basic and innocent dreams. Like this mutant turtle kid in China: Dad Maimaiti Musai said: “We were told surgery wasn’t possible when he was very young so we waited. But the growth got bigger and harder and became like a turtle shell. (der SUN) You cured your son of being a Ninja fucking Turtle? Can your deranged – – nay, diseased mind possibly comprehend the implications arising from the damage you have done? I – – I… fffffuuuuh… hold on. Despite my clenched, grinding teeth of incredulous rage, I have forced myself to count to ten, and rub one out* for good, calm measure. I want to make myself perfectly clear, so there is no chance of misunderstanding. I was born in 1984. Between the ages of three and eleven or so, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were … Finish reading this sumbitch!