Little pearls of LOL’dom

So Stopthemadness and I were brainstorming earlier on this bleary, not-quite-fall Monday - and we mused, what if the son of God had a Twitter account? What would he tweet?

Possible examples:

“@MaryMagdalene. No, I do not want to look at ur sexxxy pics. U R a whore. LOLZ!!!111one. Srsly. Repent.”

“And God said, let there be light. And there was Facebook.”

“can’t talk now. nails in wrists. be back in three days.”

“no, tim tebow is not ME. srsly. come on, sheeple.”

“criss angel can’t turn water into wine. i, however, can. dude.”

What do you think? If Jesus were to tweet, what would he say?

[Follow @birbigs on Twitter. He's the man behind the genius.]

Her ego is a super-ego

In this week’s GOOP, Gwyneth Paltrow talks to us about… you guessed it… eating! In this week’s entry, however, she isn’t extolling her love of butter and goose fat. Rather, she’s done us the favor of providing us with recipes for people who “care about the size of their butt.”

K, wait a second Gwyneth. You’re impossible. I ate the poussins, I made the lava cake, I ingested the goose fat drenched in hollandaise, and NOW you’re telling me I should care about the size of my butt? You duplicitous hussy.

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Time to start working on that bucket list

As you may or may not know, the end is nigh. According to the Mayan calendar, on December 21st, 2012 mankind is set to shuffle off this mortal coil. No one is really sure how it will happen. It could be a natural disaster beyond our control. Perhaps an asteroid with hit the Earth. Or it could be some sort of man-made disaster, like some sort of super virus that modern medicine can’t contain. It might be the zombie apocalypse that so many of us are waiting for, or maybe, just maybe, a horror beyond comprehension–a John Mayer, Kanye West tour with Dane Cook as the opening act. What I’m getting at is that we just don’t know how it will all come crashing down. I have a few theories I’d like to share.

Theory number one: Three words for you; President Sarah Palin. Technically, if she were to win the next election she wouldn’t actually be the President until she took the oath of office on January of 2013, however I don’t think it would be out of character with her being a ‘Maverick’ to show up at the White House a few days after the election with her family and their possessions being pulled by snow machines. Think the Beverly Hillbillies without the laugh track. The idea of her running the country could send the other nations of the world into a panic that sets off a full-scale nuclear exchange. Sarah Palin as president might be enough to make even the most hardcore terrorists to long for the carefree days of George W.

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It’s not as bad as it sounds I swear

Last week I was in Wal-Mart, and there was this guy in an electric wheelchair. He had a bunch of bumper stickers on the back of his wheelchair, and one of them said, “When judgment day comes you’ll wish you had Jesus bumper stickers.” Right underneath that was one that said, “What happens in Tijuana, Mexico stays in Tijuana, Mexico.”I laughed and some lady gave me a dirty look because she thought I was laughing at the guy. The guy was cool about it; we talked for a minute and I told him I liked his stickers.

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How to be Dramatic Without Creating a Panic

My father worked in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay.

Those latte-drinking, hybrid-driving, bleach blond, capped-teeth, elitist bastards are at it again. Trying to make the rest of the fucking nation look like a bunch of unsophisticated mother fuckers. McKay Hatch, 10th grade kill-joy and ass hole, is hoping his campaign to “clean the air” of swear words, will be recognized by the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors.

Can you believe that bullshit? I mean I knew those dick-weeds in the Cali government were hard-up for cash, but this is re-fucking-diculous. Oh, wait, my bad, there is no goddamned penalty. So basically this campaign is as useful as a limp dick. I, myself, have been known to use the occasional, off-colored expletive. Most commonly “goddamnitall!” and “mother (pause) fucker.”

What’s your most frequent curse?

But, hey, it was privatized, so it was really the Free Market’s fault.

Crystal Lee Sutton, best known as the inspiration for Norma Rae, died of brain cancer last week.  The fuckery of it all?  She had been fighting with her insurance company for treatment.  That’s right, folks, she had BRAIN CANCER, and the insurance company couldn’t decide if she needed the life-saving treatment or medication.  Let me repeat this, she had gone two months without treatment in 2008 because her insurance company couldn’t figure out if they should cover BRAIN CANCER!?  I mean, what the hell, did they expect her to just take some aspirin?  Should she have walked it off?  Sutton eventually got some of the treatment she needed, but it seems it was too late.  So, next time some jerk-off starts talking about possible government-run “death panels” you tell them about the REAL, privatized, death panels - because let’s face it,  in your life-or-death struggle,  insurance companies are beholden to Wall Street and the bottom line.

(Editor’s note: this post, circa September 14th, got about a gajillion comments.)

Porpoise Community Seeks Protection For Harboring Dirty, Dirty Snitches

Dolphins are murdering bastards, y’all. Not only are they cold-hearted and unforgiving, but they have a message to deliver: snitches get stitches, squeakers get beachers. (Dolphins may be clever hitmen, but they can’t rhyme for shit. They make up for it with their ruthless killing style.)

Last year, 74 murdered porpoises washed up in California - murders that were suspected of the notorious Eeee! Eeee! family of the Dolphin Mafia, but were never proved. Recently, a gang attack by dolphins on a porpoise was photo-documented; after the porpoise was beaten to death, the dolphins dragged the lifeless body to the photographer’s boat and then swam away, leaving the body behind. Apparently, it took leaving a murdered body on a photographer’s doorstep (or whatever it’s called if you’re on a boat) for the dolphins’ message to be made public: DON’T FUCK WITH THE DOLPHINS, SNITCHES, OR YOU MIGHT NEVER AGAIN SWIM WITH THE FISHES. (Again; rhyming’s not their thing.) Porpoises know stuff, and they’re being picked off like ripe sea cucumbers as a result.

WHAT DO THE PORPOISES KNOW? Information that may involve found feet? Or the secrets of Atlantis? Or why LiLo continues to somehow be newsworthy? Whatever the case may be, I’m investigating, so I really hope it’s “feet.”

Rectum? Damn Near Killed’um!

A German steel worker has been given a nine months suspended sentence for firing an air rifle into his buddy’s asshole.

I’ll pause a moment so you can go back and re-read that.

OK, everyone on board so far?

Denis Schwarz, 25, said he only wanted to help his pal who had complained about sweaty buttocks from working in the Halberg Guss factory where molten metal kept temperatures soaring.

According to Austria Times, Mr. Schwarz said he had jokingly offered to help his friend cool down by blowing some air over him and said:

“We often played around with air rifles - it was just a bit of fooling around - I said I was going to shoot him in the bum. He said he didn’t care and I pulled the trigger and he just collapsed.”

“I suddenly felt this incredible pain - you can’t imagine it. I couldn’t breathe it hurt so much, you can’t know how happy I was when I got to hospital and they gave me an anaesthetic,” said his victim, according to the Times.

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Old Lady Turns Older: Part Deux

Last week, I told y’all about how some old lady, Gertrude Baines turned 115 years old, and I recounted some of history’s greatest hits from the 19th and 20th centuries. I got all the way to 1980, and frankly I got tired. Imagine how tired Baines must be. She lived through all this shit.

Well, my friends, it’s time for the 80s and beyond! To the 21st century! (Grab your bottle of Chateau D’Awesome and pour yourself a glass.)

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Old Lady Turns Older.

An African-American woman became the oldest living lady ever (according to the Guinness Book of World Records). Gertrude Baines celebrated her 115th birthday on April 6, 2009. Back in January, some lady in Portugal finally died, and Baines was able to grab the crown of Oldest Living Person all for herself. I bet she was pretty stoked.

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If the French are doing it then it must be fashionable

I admit I missed the episode of Mad Men where Roger Sterling performed in blackface, but French Vogue is coming out with a 14 page edition with model Laura Stone in black face. Yup, 14 whole pages in blackface. Apparently it’s some celebration lauding Laura Stone for not being the typical super skinny model. Yes, and I know when I’m feeling particularly festive I like to paint my face up and ease on down the road to Baskin and Robbins while singing Suwanee River. It makes total sense to me. How can the rest of the world not get it?

Oh yeah Laura “fatty mcfatterson” Stone wears a whopping size 4. I’m surprised they even found her clothes to wear over that huge ass. Is this seriously happening? There’s a reason people no longer perform minstrel shows or perform in blackface. I was going to write why people no longer put lawn jockeys in their yards anymore but then I found this.

Notice it’s completely sold out. As someone who’s been called a wet back, I think I would be offended if someone decided to put a big banana boat with a bad tan on my favorite fashion magazine. I guess soon everyone will be walking around with Chanel grease paint in their Louis Vuittons this fall? This is a crock pot full of fuckery. It’s a crockfuckery and a slap in the face to everyone who ever fought for equal rights. Vogue, you fail and you suck.

It’s Friday, and we’ve all had a long week; I know I have. I though that we could all use a break, so let’s kick back for a few minutes and play Find Dakota Fanning. The rules are simple; spot her in the photo below and you win.

Did you find her? If you didn’t don’t feel bad, she is practically translucent. OK, try this. Take a deep breath and relax. If you are trying too hard to find her, you will never do it. Look at the photo and let your eyes drift out of focus.

If you see a schooner, you are trying too hard.

The FAIL!

They made us laugh, they made us cry, and occasionally they put us to sleep. And that was just on the red carpet. Now it’s time for Thundersquee! to return the favor with our SQUEE!, Meh and Fail picks for the 81st Academy Awards.

On with The FAIL…

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The Meh

They made us laugh, they made us cry, and occasionally they put us to sleep. And that was just on the red carpet. Now it’s time for Thundersquee! to return the favor with our SQUEE!, Meh and Fail picks for the 81st Academy Awards.

On with the Meh…

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The SQUEE!

They made us laugh, they made us cry, and occasionally they put us to sleep. And that was just on the red carpet. Now it’s time for Thundersquee! to return the favor with our SQUEE!, Meh and Fail picks for the 81st Academy Awards.

On with the SQUEE!…

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I’m starting to hate you, Netflix.

Are you sick of reading my weekly bitching about the political fuckery going on in this country? Yeah? Well I’m sick of writing about it. So today, I want to talk about the REAL problem facing America: Netflix.

Netflix pisses me off.

I’ve been a member of Netflix almost from the beginning. I remember when I first heard about Netflix seven years ago. I was over the moon about it. “WHA!? You mean I won’t have to buy some stupid ass movie for 50 bucks from Blockbuster because I forgot to return it, or my dog chewed it up, or because I returned my homemade porn movie and left Ernest Goes to to the Mall languishing in my DVD player??!!”

JEANIUS.

But here’s the thing: I rented 300 and Big Fish in February 2009 and I STILL HAVE THEM SITTING ON MY COFFEE TABLE. I don’t know why I can’t just take them to the post office. I just haven’t. I don’t even care at this point. It’s like my gym membership. I pay 60 bucks every month (it’s automatically deducted from my credit card) and I never go. I’ve been a member of the gym for 3 years and I’ve gone maybe 6 times.

So yeah. I’ve been a member of Netflix for about 7 years, and I’ve probably watched a total of 6 movies. ( Don’t judge me! You don’t know what my life is like!)

So this past weekend, I started thinking about how ridiculous my Netflix situation is–paying for a service I never use–and I decided to cancel my account. That’s right. I did that shit. No more Netflices.

But apparently when you cancel your account, you have to locate and return the movies you have. Can you believe that? So now I have to locate Police Academy 7: Who Let the Dogs Out, and return it to them, PRONTO. Whatever, Netflix. I can’t find the movie. Suck it up.

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Hot Space Lady Edition

Here at Thunderdome!!!, we pay close attention to your needs, wants, and desires–no matter how shameful they may be. So, in response to the abundance of closeted sci-fi enthusiasts out there, we bring you this week’s THUNDERDOME!!!:

Beverly Crusher vs. Deanna Troi

Two TNG ladies go in; only one comes out

BEVERLY CRUSHER vs. DEANNA TROI

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And so do dogs

Adorable eater of faces

Usually when it’s a slow news day you get “Dog Bites Man” type stories, but one Knoxville news source seems to be confused about the placement of that “s.” In what one can only hope was the result of an attempt at running the most inane story ever to have existed, or a bet either won or lost, WBIR.com devoted time and space to a “news” story warning people dogs can bite. No, really–a serious news piece. The opening paragraph reads as follows:

“They can be cute and cuddly, but even friendly dogs can be unpredictable, warns the American College of Emergency Physicians (ACEP).”

First, thanks for that warning, American College of Emergency Physicians. I look forward to future press releases about the dangers involved in setting yourself on fire, and possibly an official announcement on the importance of breathing.

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It’s amazing how much adding the word pants changes some of your favorite Star Wars quotes.

Judge me by my pants, do you?

The Force is strong in my pants.

We have no choice, our pants can’t repel firepower of that magnitude.

Put Captain Solo in the cargo pants.

Luke, help me take these pants off.

Source.