My Diddy Says

My Diddy says marriage is between a man and a woman and that gay marriage ain’t real marriage. He says, cuz marriage is hard work. It ain’t no fun boys club. He says, if he could hang out all day with Mr. Frank and Big Jimmy, eating pork sandwiches, listening to Steely Dan, talking about Project Runway, maybe rubbin each others’ feet, and getting fancy haircuts- he would in a goddamn heartbeat. But that just ain’t marriage. It just ain’t. Marriage ain’tsposed to be fun like that. And there’s no good reason why one man should ever jaculate while looking into the eyes of another man, unless you’re watching the Alabama game and Saban is on the screen. Got 14?

My Diddy says Lennie’s mom’s juicebox shoots out hot fire. And that ever since Mumma passed last year from the die-beats, he’s had to find solace in the arms of another woman. He ain’t proud of it. But he’s a man, he says. With needs. I don’t judge him for that. I don’t think Jesus Christ Our Lord, Amen would either. And I’m pretty sure Mumma’d be ok with it. I can see her now, upstairs in heaven’s kitchen, looking down on Diddy as he takes Lennie’s mumma to the dick rodeo, smiling, sayin’ “That’s my Terry, still hasn’t lost his touch.” ‘Sides, it’s her fault for eatin’ so much Ladyfingers and dyin’ and leavin’ us to fend for our lonesome.

My Diddy says Obama is a Muslim and we don’t like Muslims cuz of the twin towers. He says that’s why we went to Iraq. Says if Reagan were still president, the 9/11 would have never happened, that it was all Obama’s fault. He says Reagan would have caught those Muslims and beat their asses blue as a baboon and then cut em up into little pieces while all of America watched and let blood spray all everywhere like a fountain and then he’d pop their eyeballs out and let the secret service and everybody take turns fuckin’ their eye sockets til they cum a bucket-full and then he’d bury em under the crawl space of the White House in garbage bags. Kinda like in Dexter, he says. Diddy loves Dexter.

My Diddy says condoms are gay.

My Diddy says Cam Newton took that money. No matter what the NCAACP or whoever says. He says cuz Auburn has got a crackerjack team of Jews that did a real good job of hiding all that money so nobody would find out. Jews are real good with money, he says. They just sit around all day counting it and rolling around in it and putting it in their mouth holes cuz they like the taste. He says Jewish men menstruate. And the Jews and the black people (like Cam Newton and Obama) made an unholy alliance to work against the white people to destroy college football. It ain’t right, he says.

My Diddy says he’ll kill Mr. Dickenson, my biology teacher, if he tries to teach evolution again. The one true way, truth and the light, God The Father Almighty created heaven and earth and that anybody that says different is searchin’ real hard for a swift kick to the dicks and balls, he says. If Mr. Dickenson is so smart then how come he says his grandiddy was a monkey? Monkies ain’t smart. My diddy says if Mr. Dickenson wants to make evolution sound more logical he should have picked a smarter animal to be his grandiddy. Like a dolphin. My diddy says dolphins are smart like us people. If they had robot voice boxes, like Steve Hawking, they’d be able to speak their minds just like the rest of us. Says they are the only other animals on Earth that have gay sex for pleasure and plus, if we all came from monkeys, then we’d all look like blackies. They may have descended from monkey’s, Diddy says, but us whites were put here by The Lord God after he made us outta clay, breathed life into our lungs, and Adam and Eve did the ol’ slide in to home plate and super-soak the catcher’s mit.

My Diddy says liking Tracy Chapman ain’t a crime. And don’t let anybody tell you it is. Just cuz it’s dyko-rock don’t mean it don’t got no musical quality. He says lesbians have great taste in music: Bob Segar, REO Speedwagon, and of course the one, the only, 4 Non Blondes. Diddy says the first time he saw 4 Non Blondes was at the 1993 MTV Spring Break Beach House. He was loaded up on cocaine and vodka-frescas but when they performed their acoustic version of “What’s Up?” it penetrated his soul like a flaming javelin of truth.  Said he never really listened to music before that moment. Sure he had HEARD music but he never really LISTENED. Not like he did on that faithful day. He absorbed those butchy sounds with every fiber of his being and let the music flow within him and without him. And he didn’t get enough neither. Followed ‘em all the way to the Lilith Fair. He said those lesbian women opened his mind to how society could be if the testosterone fueled patriarchy would quit gagging the world with it’s throbbing veiny cock. He says that’s a metaphor. Yep, Lilith Fair changed em something powerful. He even got to go backstage and meet Jewel. Never been more nervous in his life. Diddy says her teeth are even more fucked up than they look on the TV. Like somebody curb-stomped her Canadian ass. You’d think that after selling billions of cassette tapes all around the world that she could afford at least some of those invisible Invisalign braces. Guess she’s too busy winning Grammy’s for all that.

The Reason I Stopped Doing Cocaine (And Started Doing Karaoke)

karaoke

It just wasn’t worth it, guys. The late nights. The constant nosebleeds. The violent urges to wait in the parking lot and rape strippers when they’d leave work at the Titty Castle. Sure, that life is fun for awhile. But it … Continue reading 

Skype Me On My B-Day!

HeY gUrL hEy! HaVeN’t SeEn YoU iN FO-EVAAAA! MuSt HaVe A sKyPe SeSh AsAp. I can NOT w8 2 talk 2 U. I was thinking, my B-dAy is coming up, and it would be gr8 if we could do it then, because the only gift this little Hello Kitty asian school-girl could ever want would be to see your presh punnam (well, and a pair of new Steve Madden’s and for the gyno-saur to be a little more gentle with my delicates next time I go in for a pappysmudge.) Don’t worry about those last two though, I’ll just ask my g-mizzle for those. She may not make it to my next birthday, so I’m gonna make her load me up on presents this year. It’s not that she’s that old or sickly or anything. It’s just she just got mixed up with Mikhail and the Russians over some money down at the races. Dad says any day now they are going to bust in and cut off her hands and sell the rest of her old organs on the Russian African-American market and then feed her leftovers to the g33se at the park. That’s why those things are so mean, they’ve got a taste for human blood. Like Vampires, but less homoerotic. Girl, you know I’m Team Jacob.

Oh giiiirl, you are going to shit on your Dad’s dickhole when I tell you what Liz told me yesterday. So, ya know how Bobby was like soo in love with Allison and was basically on his hands and knees asking her to let him see that baby cavern? Well apparently, last weekend, at Sharon’s sweet sixteen, they hooked up. I KNOW! Like hooked up hooked up. And Allison says that his thing is tiny. Ugggh! Like it just rests there on top of his ballbag. Like a little acorn. But get this, after the fuck sesh, Allison let it spill that she has diabetes, so to get even, Bobby kidnapped her, fed her Godiva’s and denied her her insulin until she died! I KNOW! Like died died. HILARIOUS! That is so Bobby. On a sad note, the funeral is on Friday and I have absolutely nothing to wear. Ugh. Maybe I could Skype you in. I know Allison’s brother, Todd, would love to talk to you. LOLZ. JK, I know you don’t date black guys.

Annnnywayz, can’t wait to see your sexy face on my B’Day! Tell Shawn that he better be taking care of my girl over there or I’m gonna have to come beat him up. LMAO! Just kidding, he’s a man, he would totes kick my ass. Y’all be safe and have fun killin’ Iraqi’s! Mwah! Lovez!!!!!

Your BFFF,

Sharon

P.S. Your dad is fucking Stewart’s Mom and Stewart is super pissed. You’d think, by now, he’d have dealt with the fact that his Mom is the town trolley and has gotten stuffed more times than a catcher’s mit. Like, she is like a form of public transportation but she also resembles an article of baseball equipment, you know? I know, we are terrible! But seriously, fuck Stewart. After the shit he pulled with Teagan after prom last year, he deserves to listen to his mom get pounded by your Dad’s thick, black, dick-meat. Ya know? I mean, I don’t like Teagan or whatever, she is a fat piece of shit, but I don’t think anybody should have to go through what Stew put her through. Seriously. Mayonnaise is meant to go on sandwiches and nowhere else. Stew had that whole “grab-bag” mayo handjob fetish thing going on that he learned from his slut cunt-ex Emily. I heard that she has a labia like the large triangular side fins of a manta-ray.

Fuck 2011

Fuck 2011. 2010 4 life. Like the wolfpack. Just toooo sweeeeeeet. All you folks out there flip-flopping like Johnny “The Ketchup Man” Kerry as soon as New Years Eve gets here. Everybody everywhere sayin “Happy New Year!” So willing to just leave 2010 in the past, like yesterday’s hooker. Well guess what dickhead, 2010 has feelings too and it’s so disrespectful that as soon as the clock strikes twelve your pumpkin asses shit all over 2010. Just as a general rule of thumb, shitting all over anything except the inside of a toilet, plastic bucket, or Phil Standen’s lunchbox is disrespectful. I’m not going to flippantly abandon 2010 like a little harelipped baby crying in a dumpster behind my apartment. No sir. Not me. 2010 and me go back like chiropractors.

Here’s some great things about 2010:

  • We elected our first black president. Take that white folks! Right in your white money filled asses!
  • We won the Iraq war.
  • Avatar in 3-D.
  • Blink 182 reunion tour. The boys are back in town.
  • Michael Jackson returned to the promised land. RIP. I know in my heart you didn’t fiddle with those kiddies p-words.
  • Michael Schaivo successfully sued to have his brain-damaged wife Terri’s feeding tube removed.
  • V-neck shirt fashion explosion. KaPLOW.
  • We gave Israel to Palestine. Finally.
  • Took a grand total of 5 stinky dumps in Phil Standen’s lunchbox.

And I know some of you jagoffs are saying “Hey, guy, you’re afraid of change. Why don’t you stop being such a pussy baby, accept the inevitable passage of time and embrace the new year?” Well let me answer your question with a question. Did Abraham Lincoln just accept change when the South seceded? Did Chris Brown just accept change when Rhianna started mouthing off? Did my Dad accept change when I told him I’m not really into women, persay. No. He didn’t, and I’m not going to either. If there is one thing I learned from my Dad, it’s don’t just stand by and watch your son grow into a god-hating hell-bent man smoocher. And change. Don’t accept it.

Fuck 2011. Seriously. Take out that tiny, flaccid, coat hanger abortion of a dick, and fuck it til you cum. I don’t even want to hear it. As far as I’m concerned this is just 2010 2.0 – Round 2. Just like they did to the last Harry Potter movies. Round 2. Ding Ding Ding.