From His Wind-Whipped Prairie Exile, Tardsie Writes: "People Ask Me All The Time If This Job Gets To Me. Hell--You Can See I'm More Clip Than Zipper These Days; I Lost Track A Long Time Ago Of How Many Nights I Cry Myself To Sleep. But Would I Quit? No Way--I Love It Too Much."
We didn’t create Promethean Times so that we could do things the easy way. We believe first and foremost in solid reporting and fierce investigative journalism. It’s no great feat to cover the news in exotic locales like Hawaii, the Caribbean or Ibiza. But when a story reveals itself in a blighted, lifeless place where no reasonable person would want to go, the real journalists rise to the challenge.
Promethean Times’ Editor-in-Chief, Tardsie D. Bagg has been sent on assignment to the Dakotas. In such circumstances, it can be easy to exaggerate the inconvenience or degree of difficulty. However, we feel entirely justified in comparing Tardsie’s departure from our cozy coastal environs for the endless expanses of this half-frozen horizontal First Circle of Hell to the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden.
He left this:
But Where You Live Is Pretty Cool, Too.
For this:
The Death-Knell Of A Cherished Way Of Life Will Be Sounded Sometime In 2015-2016, When Indoor Plumbing Finally Comes To The Dakotas.
You’re welcome.
As the Dakotas are, after Delaware and American Samoa, indisputably the nation’s most forgettable territorial possessions, readers might wonder just what’s happening on the prairie that could command the attention of a busy A-Lister like Tardsie. Instead, we ask you, what ISN’T happening in the Dakotas? We can’t tell you everything, but here’s a little bit of what our very special Special Olympian is up to in the land that time forgot.
Investigating potential truths in the oft-repeated anecdotes about travelling salesmen and the nubile daughters of local farmers.
Petitioning the South Dakota legislature to have Teddy Roosevelt dynamited from Mt. Rushmore. Not in our America, Teddy.
Party like ’tis 1899.
Honoring the residents of Pierre (pronounced ‘peer’), South Dakota for their indefatigable efforts to mangle French pronunciation.
Cow Tipping! Cow Tipping! Cow Tipping!
Preparing the upcoming feature:How much tribal land can you get for $7.55 worth of beads and half a bottle of Old Granddad?
This Is What Passes For News Here In Terra Lame-O. Makes You Want To Give 'Em Something To Talk About, Doesn't It?
A taxi driver, bragging about North Dakota’s recent oil-boom, told me that the state has the largest Camaro dealership anywhere, proving that Dakotans have more money than class. Pray for me, friends. ∞ T.
Ireland: A Nice Place To Visit, Even If You're Mostly Sober.
Before we get started, we should confess something: despite the cruel, ignorant and generally irresponsible things we say about people, places and things, it may surprise our readers to know that we hold in great affection many of those very subjects we skewer so mercilessly.¹ Chief among these beloved foils are the Irish. Although we will continue to mock these hapless, potato-munching inebriates until our dying day, the fact that Tardsie and Smaktakula have between them made a combined five trips to the Emerald Isle should to a large degree demonstrate Promethean Times‘ love for the Micks.
Edna Kenny (Seen Here At Breakfast) Was Recently Appointed Taoiseach (Prime Minister) For The Republic Of Ireland.
The Irish are a warm, gregarious people, who, despite the startling number of fistfights in which they regularly engage, are rightly known for their genial natures. Although theirs is a bittersweet history, full of famines, oppression and drunkenness, it’s difficult not to admire a people so foul-mouthed that old ladies use the Lord’s name more often in casual conversation than does Pat Robertson, and whose priests are known to remark “If it’s yer head you’ll be wantin’ kicked in, ya wee shite, then go ahead and touch me fookin’ pint a second time.”
Straight Up: You Won't Be Getting His Lucky Charms Without One Hell Of A Fight.
The Irish are further unique in that, for whatever reason, they genuinely seem to be fond of Americans. Promethean Times wishes to encourage this special relationship by fostering an even greater understanding between Irish people and their more sober American cousins. With this in mind, we offer these American-specific travel tips for visiting Éire.
Don't Let It Worry You--Irishmen Are Sweethearts. In Another Five Minutes You'll Be Lifelong Pals. Just The Same, You Shouldn't Count On Him Never Again Punching You In The Face.
The Irish are proud of their culture. Show them you’re proud of it, too. If you even have one Irish ancestor, no matter how far removed, share this news with your new Mick friends by declaring, “I’m Irish, too!” They love that.
Break the ice by tackling a short person and demanding he lead you to his pot of gold, or at the very least, kick you down a bowl of sugary cereal for your trouble.
Look, It's Nothing Personal, Mr. O'Shaughnessy, It's Just That We Don't Think You're Temperance Society Material.
Black Irish doesn’t mean “black people.” Having said that, there are Irishmen of African descent. Smaktakula had the opportunity to meet them, and they were both really cool.
Although the Irish people insist on seeing their culture as wholly distinct and separate from that of the Scots, they don’t mind at all that you don’t. Go ahead and let them how much you enjoyed Braveheart.
The Irish love a laugh. It’s perfectly acceptable to point out that the word “Gaelic” sounds a lot like “Gay-Lick.”
The Irish will be delighted if you accost them on the street for the sole purpose of hearing them say, “They’re magically delicious.” Famously patient, they’ll happily oblige you a second time when you demand, “No–do it right!”
When Irish Eyes Are Smiling...
Special tips for travelling in Northern Ireland:
Your choice of drink can say a lot, so choose one respectful of Irish culture. Although Irish car bombs are, along with straight whiskey, famously the national refreshment, when in Northern Ireland, the savvy drinker orders a Black & Tan.
Irish people can sometimes be melancholy, particularly in the north. If anyone mentions ‘the Troubles,’ tell ’em, “You think you’ve got troubles? I’m consumed by credit card debt and my lousy job is killing me! At least you get to sit around all day and drink!”
The Quaint Northern Town Of Portrush, Or As Tardsie Calls It, "POTrush." But That's A Story For Another Day.
In Northern Ireland, knowing your colors can be the difference between life and death: When you’re in Catholic areas, be sure to sport your Unionist orange, but just as quickly switch to green when you’re hanging with the proddies.
If you’re looking to place your money offshore by investing in foreign financial products, you could do a lot worse than to look into an Irish IRA. Irish professionals spend most of their office hours in local pubs, and financial advisors are no different. Try asking around at different pubs in Belfast or Derry for some information about the IRA (remember to pronounce it by the initials when you’re in N. Ireland, and not like a wimpy man’s name, as in America). It’s the damnedest thing–everyone you speak to will deny knowing anything about it, but if you ask around long enough, the right people WILL find you.
Folks, Whether You Realize It Or Not, The World Is Just One More Potato Famine Away From Being Up To Its Eyeballs In The Irish.
¹We weren’t talking to you, Frenchie, so sit your ass down. Nobody here called for a snail-eating surrender-monkey. < S.
Oh, Man! If We Had A Dime For Every Time This Has Happened.
In which we opine upon the headlines of the day without first reading the articles.
***
Megadeth’s Dave Mustaine backs Rick Santorum~ See Kids? A bacchanalian life of drug-fueled debauchery is not without its consequences. Although the pernicious effects of addiction upon the family structure are well-documented and widely known, critical-thinking skills and good judgement are additional casualties.
‘Star Trek’ Divorce: Fan Forced To Leave Spaceship Digs~ He should take some consolation in the fact that as someone who has, however briefly, known the carnal delights of female affection, he’s relatively unique among Trekkies.
Miracle baby born from a single sperm ~ Although we were inattentive (at best) in biology class, our understanding is that barring a multiple birth, the formula is 1 sperm +1 egg = 1 very expensive, back-talking pet.
Gaga’s scent smells like expensive hookers~ We prefer the delightful bouquet of burned crack infused with fear-sweat and just a hint of urine that distinguishes so many of today’s down-market hos.
Her Designer Fragrance Is Called ‘As Dead I Well May Be.’
Evidence: Hitler had love child~ ‘Love’ child doesn’t really work in the same sentence as ‘Hitler.’ We know it’s not particularly politically correct, but if there’s ever a time to bring back ‘bastard,’ this is it.
Police: Mom gave kids heroin ~ Kids today don’t know how nice they have it. We considered ourselves lucky if Mom gave us a nutmeg & codeine-syrup cocktail and told us to ‘Fuck off for a few hours,’ so she and Uncle Whatshisname could have some privacy.
It's A Fact: Straight White Guys Dance Like Assholes.
For as long as there have been different cultures, there have been cruel stereotypes about those cultures. In ancient times the Sumerians were believed to be penny-pinchers, the Mayans considered bad guests who wouldn’t leave, and Etruscans were accused of “dressing too faggy.” Even in modern times, there are some¹ who propound the rumor that Belgian people have belly buttons which are neither innies nor outies, but rather prehensile tentacles which the Belgians use to drain fluid from the organs of the handicapped victims who are their natural prey.
Of course, as any grade-school teacher will tell you, there’s no truth in any stereotype. Stereotypes are just a symptom of fear, a fear which stems from ignorance of other people and cultures. Once a person is exposed to the culture he believes so frightening, he will quickly come to understand that people the world over are exactly the same.²
There are those who say that all stereotypes are injurious, even those of a ‘positive’ nature. Positive or not, these critics contend, stereotypes still serve to distort perceptions and contribute to the widening of various cultural schisms.
You decide.
Asians–Is it really such a handicap to be judged intelligent solely on the basis of your race? It might be unfair to the morons within the culture, but as we know, Asian morons (or ‘the uninterrigent,’ as they’re known in the Far East) are exceedingly rare. Also, it’s not a bad thing if people avoid fucking with you in the off-chance that you’re a kung-fu master.
These Stanford Cardiologists Take A Break From Their Busy Work Schedule.
Gay men–Folks think you’re a good dancer, even when you’re not.
"You Are The Dancing Queen/Young And Sweet/Only Seventeen"
The French–No good stereotypes exist for the French. About the best thing we can say is that if you scrub ’em down real good, you’ll find out they’re actually Swiss.
There's No Call For This. Clearly, We're Letting Our Francophobia Get The Better Of Us.
White people–Even the most destitute piece of poor white trash wandering the back hollows of Mississippi is secretly believed by the other races³to be a member of an illuminati-like conspiracy of world-shaking power brokers. Also, traffic stops rarely end in a beating.
Although This Old Photo Proved An Embarrassment To Senator McWilliams of Kentucky, He Successfully Won Re-Election On A 'No More Immigrants!' Platform.
Latinos–Many positive stereotypes are attributed to persons of Latin descent. “He works like a Mexican” is a compliment, and one has only to see 23 people crammed into a two-bedroom apartment to know that the family is paramount in Latin culture. Also, they make great soccer players.
Illegal? Not In The Carpool Lane.
Canadians–Do you folks really mind being thought of as smarter, cleaner, more polite Americans?
"Why Are You So Dirty, Stupid And Rude, Eh?"
The Polish–Tardsie has been to Poland. He says that everything you’ve heard is true.
How Do You Break A Pole's Finger?
Black dudes–Hell yeeeeaaaaaah.
But It's Not For The Kids To Play With, You Know What We're Sayin'?
¹Us, mostly. ∞ T.
²Irrespective of the truth, it’s what you’re supposed to say. ∞ T.
³Most Asians either know or suspect the truth, but will likely play along. ∞ T.
Why French Parents Are Superior ~ Does smelling like a turd in rotten-egg sauce stuffed inside the bloated belly of a week-old corpse make you a better parent? Because if it does, we totally get it.
Things You Didn’t Know About Your Penis ~ Please. After decades of rigorous hands-on study of our penii coupled with regular field-testing, there’s very little about our one-eyed heat-seeking moisture missiles that remains a mystery.
We Looked Among All The Nations Of The World, And Could Find None More Deserving Of Our Praise.
We’ll admit it–we didn’t think it would come to this. We figured we’d be rich by now, or at the very least the Rapture would have freed us from our myriad woes. Since it didn’t (it didn’t, right?), we’ve picked ourselves up and resolved to make a game go of it. Moreover, we’re concentrating our hopes on the admittedly feeble chances the Mayans were right in predicting doom for 2012, and that very soon sweet nothingness will obliterate the pain that is existence.
Turns Out Somebody Made A Calculation Error When They Came Up With The 2012 Date. The Revised Figure Is 1492.
Until then, though, we’re even more delighted that, last December, we were the inaugural winner of the Promethean Times’ Person of the Year. Now, as we say goodbye to what we call ‘The Year of Promethean Times,’ it’s time to recognize a new mover and/or shaker for his/her/its contribution or impact to our world.
Having outstripped the rest of the field by light-years in the 2010 contest, Promethean Times could be forgiven for feeling like it has an edge in this year’s selection. After all, no one disputes that Promethean Times’ many, many contributions to the betterment of society rank among the more significant developments in 2011. Still, the beloved news journal remains humble. “Would we like to repeat?” asks Smaktakula, lead writer, “Absolutely–who wouldn’t? But we’ve got important events to cover, and we can’t really spend time thinking about things like that. Besides,” he adds, “Some other stuff happened.”
Among that stuff was a string of dead dicks, despots and men of low character. 2011 bid farewell to a number of those comical tyrants who, through nothing more than style, a ridiculous outfit and balls the size of grapefruit, commanded legions to do their bidding. Osama bin Laden’s cringing demise among the fluid-spattered catacombs of his porn library taught us all to laugh again, while the image of Keystone Cops stumbling after wacky sand-despot Muammar Gaddafi in a madcap chase aross the Libyan desert gave us reason to laugh even harder. The ascendance of Steve Jobs and Kim Jong-il to their respective heavenly kingdoms reminded us that Gods too can die.
Among The Many Proposed Reforms Of The 'Arab Spring' Which Began In The Winter Of 2011 Is A Calendar That's Worth A Damn.
Fortunately, the world is in no immediate danger of losing its megalomaniacal dickheads–it seems as if for every despot hanged, another sprouts from the puddle of piss at his twitching feet. The loss of ‘Lil Kim was a blow for North Korea, but made easier when Kim Jong-un waddled into his father’s shoes and accepted his mandate to drive the shitstain of a country further into the ground. Africa maintained its preeminence for venal strongmen throughout 2011, with brutal racist Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe single-lippedly keeping alive the Hitler Mustache, while Julius Malema, an exciting new face on the South African scene, promises to continue the ruination of the one-time economic powerhouse. And throughout the world, Muslims continued to blow things up in protest of the western world’s inexplicable and persistent view of Muslims as violent and reactionary. The West countered with fiercely abject apologies.
Fidel's Still Hanging In There.
Another theme embraced wholeheartedly worldwide was indignation. Contrary to the age-old adage, “What goes up must inevitably continue to do so,” 2011 saw a further decline in the still-ridiculous standard of living enjoyed by the West. Like going out to lunch with Grandma, the belief arose that it was enough to wait it out, and somebody would eventually pick up the check. The jarring reality that Grandma died during a visit to the ladies’ room brought angry people into the streets. In America, this phenomenon took the form of “Occupy Wall Street,” a Tea Party for the under-40 crowd, who still like to break things and enjoy the novelty of humping in Liberty Park, where rank coils of human feces suffice for scented candles and complete exposure for privacy.
For Real, We Totally Would.--Only, It Smells Like Pee And There's A Ton Of Poor People Walking Around.
The year was momentous for the United States. Although ending its involvement in Iraq (kinda, not really) the US steadfastly continued interminable bank-busting conflicts in places like Afghanistan, while also embarking on other daring adventures such as temporary conflicts in Libya and a secret war¹ in the Democratic Republic of Congo. On the home front, the government turned its attention against homegrown enemies, like pot shops in California, while Operation Fast & Furious ensured that narcos and Mexican Army assassins could continue to terrorize the citizenry of the failed state and disappear the occasional American tourist.
The year began with the Arizona shooting that turned US Representative Gabby Giffords into a living martyr, and the rest of the nation into a gang of loudmouthed assholes. Throughout the year the citizenry continued the tradition of killing one another, often in new and surprising ways.
America: Where Our Unsettling Anthropomorphic Monsters Are Just A Little Bit More Patriotic.
President Obama was once again unable to deliver on his promise to make the United States a magical Care Bear land of milk & honey scented with the sweet strains of children’s choirs singing liltingly of the unifying joy of diversity, but from their bastions in college quads and Code Pink meeting-houses, the President’s dwindling cadre of true believers assured us it was Republican obstructionism. And secret racism. Republicans countered that their sole aim was to restore sanity to a beleaguered nation, and promised that only as a last resort would they burn the fucking thing to the ground.
The Bad News Is That Rome Is Burning. The Good News Is That Everyone In Our Studio Audience Will Be Going Home Tonight With Shiny New Fiddles!
Political penii² proved productive in promoting prick-principled puns, as well as gratuitous alliteration. The destructive power of the penis was ably demonstrated by Arnold Schwarzenegger, who showed us that even a wealthy Hollywood/Government powerhouse with an even richer (albeit skeletal) wife will fuck an ugly woman if given the opportunity. Late night talk-show hosts methodically shook every last droplet of humor from the Weiner situation, before putting away their pricks at the disgraced NY Rep.
For Newlyweds Lisa And Bingo Lamb, A Day At The Fair Is A Great Reason To Dress Up.
As did the death of beautiful paper-doll Diana Spencer over a decade before, the wedding of Prince William to commoner Kate Middleton proved Americans are still fascinated with the royal family from which their forefathers once strove so mightily to emancipate themselves. Although America does not have a royalty per se, the Twenty-First Century has seen the rise of a new class of publicly-owned do-nothings. Paramount among these is the vile Kardashian Klan, a bloodline and marriage-based conglomerate that may just be the strongest argument yet advanced in support of the Armenian Holocaust.³ Kim Kardashian’s sham-marriage to basketball legend somebody-or-other netted the vapid perfume-tycoon more money than you’re likely to see in a thousand lifetimes.
There were a few stars whom we were relieved to see survive 2011, not least because their delightfully destructive antics provide regular low-hanging fruit for Promethean Times.Toothless cretin Charlie Sheen managed to bring his life and career to a shattering halt, suffering the additional injury of losing his place in America’s most beloved half-hour of insipidity to a genial retard. Yet through a heroic lack of self-awareness and the public’s perverse predilection for the doomed, the former Carlos Estevez is more popular than ever. The same cannot be said for Lindsay Lohan, once hailed as ‘The Flower of American Skankhood,’ who like Sheen, is one of 2012’s most likely fatalities. Despite a loving and supportive family, worldwide adoration and impeccable personal hygiene, the only audience to prove capable of tolerating LiLo’s act for any length of time were her customers at the LA County Morgue.
It Gets A Lot Less Sexy When You Realize She'll Be Dead Soon.
Sport continued to be a necessary diversion around the world, uniting and dividing people not by races or ethnicity, but by the overpriced merchandise they wore. In American sports, Jesus, sole scion of the Jehovah Dynasty, briefly tried His hand at football before quietly retiring once again to the sidelines, much to the dismay of football fans in the Mountain States. Although a strike marred the beginning of the 2011-2012 NBA season, the 2010-2011 season ended in a thrilling contest that satisfied both haters of LeBron James and fans of Schadenfreude in general. In what was nearly universally regarded as a black year for baseball, the one bright spot was the continuing absence of a World Series trophy in the Lone Star State. And in sports outside of America’s shores, a group of Japanese ladies won some soccer thing.
A Little Bit Like Schnitzel.
With all these notable events and people, both tragic and sublime, from which to choose, our editors had an unenviable task in determining Promethean Times’ Person of the Year for 2011. It was only after a thorough and at-times grueling vetting process, at several points during which the acrimony grew both increasingly bitter and ad hominem, that the worthy candidate emerged. Promethean Times is proud to name as this year’s Promethean Times’ Person of the Year and our first two-time back-to-back recipient, Promethean Times, honoring the venerable publication for its indefatigable and often thankless dedication to fighting the barbaric practice of puppy-killing.
Bravo, Promethean Times.
NEVER AGAIN.
To The Dear Friends To Whom We Bid Farewell In 2011: May You Find Yourselves In Heaven Before The Devil Knows You’re Dead:
Amy Might Still Be Alive If She Had Filled Her Drug-Pipe With Harmless Tobacco Instead Of What She Actually Filled It With--Drugs.
The Thing We'll Miss Most? The Laughter.
CNN News Personality Anderson Cooper Was Too Beautiful To Live.
Sure, It's A Tragedy For The Ages, But We Take Some Small Consolation In The Knowledge That There's One Less Drunk On The Streets Tonight.
Quiet, Modest And Unassuming, Mr. Savage Exemplified The Qualities For Which America Is Admired Across The Globe.
Get It? We're Being Metaphorical. Trust Us, Chicks Dig Metaphors.
The Colonel's Friends All Believed It Was Gaddafi's Fascination With Thriller-Era Michael Jackson That Prevented His Promotion To General.
This Beautiful Creature Learned Too Late That If Something Lives, The Germans Will Find A Way To Kill It.
This One Time, When Smaktakula Was In Juvenile Hall On An Arson Charge, He Met A Guy Who Claimed To Be Jani Lane's Half-Brother, And Damned If The Kid Didn't Look Just Like Him. No, That's It.
Old Friend, We'll Miss You Most Of All. Circumstances Demand That We Dispense With The Childish, Insensitive Caricatures Upon Which We So Often Rely, But Rather, Respect Your Culture By Offering You A Farewell Not Only More Dignified, But In Keeping With The Proud Traditions Of Korea. In This Last Hour, Dear Leader, We Say Simply, "Sayonara."
¹ While it’s not actually a secret that 100 US ‘advisers’ have been sent to the DRC to help combat the Lord’s Resistance Army, it might as well be for all the media talks about it. ∞T.
² ‘Penises’ is the accepted plural of ‘penis,’ but Promethean Times has always been, and will forever proudly remain, a penii-loving publication. ∞T.
³ It’s a joke, Tanzr–don’t let it curdle your yogurt soda. Yes, what happened to your great-great aunt whatsername at the hands of the Turks all those years was a tragedy, but at least we provided a link to Wikipedia. That’s a hell of a lot more than the US Government ever did. ∞T.
Arrogant, You Knew. Dirty, You Knew. But Bravely Committed To The Ideals Of Free Speech?
It sounded like a great idea: invite Islam’s premier prophet to guest edit a French humor magazine. The editors of French Satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo had long sought to entice the Prophet Mohammed to bring his singular wit and warm sense of humor to their magazine. Charlie Hebdo’s editors were ecstatic when Mohammed agreed to a guest editorship, but what no one could have expected was that things would quickly turn deadly.
What's Everybody Getting So Upset About? It Looks Like A Penis In A Chef's Cap. . .Oh, God--Please Don't Kill Us.
Although impossible to foresee, the Prophet’s selection proved controversial. Charlie Hebdo’s editors expressed surprise at the outrage, claiming that Mohammed’s selection was to celebrate the victory in Tunisia by an Islamist party during the so-called ‘Arab Spring.’ Further, in a move the magazine staff was sure would delight Muslims worldwide, they decided to honor the Prophet on their cover, depicting him in cartoon saying, ‘100 lashes if you’re not dying of laughter.’
This Disturbing Image Is Insensitive To Muslims! Not That It Matters, But We Suppose It's Also Offensive To Satanic Crusaders And Filthy Jews.
Surprisingly, the Islamic community was not entirely amused. Although known for being an easy-going and tolerant religion, some Islamists reacted to the Prophet’s guest-editor stint with uncharacteristic rage. Charlie Hebdo received a number of threats on various social networking sites, but no one took seriously the notion that an adherent of Islam would commit violence in the name of Allah.
If You Want To Mock Christian Figures--Including Their God, Knock Yourself Out--The Worst You Need Fear Is A Stern Talking-To.
Amazingly, that’s just what happened. Charlie Hebdo‘s Paris offices were destroyed by a petrol bomb. Even now, weeks later, a stunned world is still trying to make sense of this. Some so-called ‘experts’ have opined that the violence was the work of radical Muslims, who are sometimes known to be touchy about depictions of the Prophet. Promethean Times disagrees. Whoever the vandals are, they’re more likely to be angry Christians or Jews. If there’s one thing we know about Muslims, it’s that they can take a joke.
“I totally know what you mean. The other night at the dinner table, I meant to say to my wife, ‘Honey, would you please pass the green beans?‘ but what I actually said was, ‘You fucking bitch! You’re ruining my life!‘
Your trashcan’s empty and your dog is pregnant.
He'll Do Right By Muffy. It's Not Like A Frenchman To Renege On An Obligation.
“Not rice again!”
“Git offa me, Pa!–Yer crushin’ mah smokes!”
Really?–Wanna go camping?
Mega-sore-ass.
“MOOOO!”
Actually, There Are Two Great Jokes With "MOOOO!" As Their Punchline, And One Of Them Is Clean.
Not being retarded.
You use one to swat the flies swarming around the other.
“Coach.”
So the guy from Texas says, “Remember the Alamo!” and then tosses the Mexican dude out the door.
Smurf cum.
Attempts To Sneak Money-Shot Smurf Past The FCC Censors Proved Unsuccessful, Ending In A Sticky, Embarrassing Mess.
On which the French and American people make a trade, with the French bequeathing to the United States the majestic Statue of Liberty, and the Americans in turn promising that France would never find herself abruptly forced to learn German.
We're Trying To Figure Out If Lady Liberty Is Really French. True, She Makes A Lot Of Demands And Hasn't Bathed In 125 Years, But That's A Torch In Her Hand And Not A Gauloise.
It’s just that if we lived next to a clan of bloodthirsty dudes in Lederhosen who put the beatdown on us every couple of generations, we’d move. ∞T.
Smooth Move, Ex-Lax. Your Mère Must Be Very Proud.
Bloated French nonentity Gèrard Depardieu attempted to make a splash Tuesday morning in what appears to be a copycat urination attack. The sweaty Euro-pérvert, inexplicably famous for something somewhere, apparently mistook an airplane aisle for a Paris sidewalk, and began to urinate indiscriminately.
Depardieu, Who Often Displays His Cock In Public, Is Seen Here Choking His Chicken.
Depardieu’s boorish behavior marks the second airplane-related act of urination in the past several days. It has been speculated that the blobbish thespian, who has repeatedly expressed fears that the French are ceding their status as World’s Rudest People to America, was trying to one-up US pissing sensation Robert “Sandy” Vietze.
When You Look At Depardieu's Previous indiscretions, This One Seems Tiny And Insignificant.
If so, this was a mistake says Dr. Emil Haagerdäddi, director of the Harvard Urine Fellowship. “As with so many things,” Haagerdäddi says, “America did it first and did it better,” explaining that the portly Frenchman couldn’t hope to execute a difficult public urination with the same grace as Vietze, who is both much younger and a trained athlete.
We Hope That In The Future, Depardieu Will Avail Himself Of A More Proper Toilet.
Promethean Times 