Whoopty Freakin' Doo Awards - 2009

Mojopost proudly presents the Whoopty Freakin’ Doo Awards of 2009. Whoopty Freakin’ Doo’s are awarded for underwhelming performances and embarrassments, that amount to less bang/more whimper. See if your low expectations made our list!

Biggest Waste Of Time Ever

Twitter

Twitter is soon to be as culturally relevant as a CB radio. It is a diversion from meaningful relationships, invented by Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore, displayed in 140 characters or less (like this). #loser!

Giant Sucking Noise

Pres. Barack Obama

Hopey had a crappy summer (birthers, tea-baggers, and Cheney, oh my!). It got even worse when he won a Nobel Peace Prize. Rewarding the new kid too soon is always a bad idea. With the rest of his semester ruined, Pres. Obama will have no choice but to eat lunch with foreign exchange students in the cafeteria. Thanks a lot, Norway!

Epic Failure Of An Ill-Conceived Hoax

Balloon Boy

Everybody got sucked into the balloon, from NORAD to Wolf Blitzer. Everybody except for Falcon Heene, age 6. When it was discovered that Falcon's parents, Richard and Mayumi, staged the hoax to get a TV show, no one was more grateful than CNN. Every little drop of ratings juice counts!

Biggest Douchebag*

John Gosselin

We have never seen the reality program that used to feature Jon Gosselin, his ex-wife, Kate, or their eight children. But we do read the tabloids whenever we’re waiting in line at the grocery store. By all accounts, Jon is a middle-aged, balding chub who likes to put his penis into women other than his wife. When he is not putting his thing somewhere or another, he’s busy spending his children’s education fund on douchebag essentials like Ed Hardy shirts and hair plugs.

Runner Up - Octomom

Most Likely To Fake Remorse

Tiger Woods

Perhaps you’ve heard the jokes by now. “He’s no Tiger, he’s a Cheetah!” or, “Tiger Woods hit a tree and a bunch of women fell out.” The world’s greatest living athlete will now attempt to be very sorry about having extra-marital affairs with plenty of women, but we know better. He’s just sad he didn’t use a disposable cell phone.

* The term “douchebag” is a recipient of the Most Overused Characterization by Whoopty Freakin’ Doo at an earlier ceremony. Douchebag will be retired, and remain locked in a case alongside of Sheeple, Fucktard and Repukelican.

Catching Up With Exclamation Points!

I have not blogged in a month! Maybe one or more of you wonder why! I'll tell you that and more!





I joined the Y to get my ass down to human size!

I got sick of cable news and politics! Keith Olbermann's noogies! Teabaggers! Balloon Boy! Liberal's fixation with Glenn Beck and FOX News - whatev! I've got better shit to do!

Blogging was taking time away from real-life adventures! Like bowling! And sobriety!

I got my mind on money and money on my mind! So I'm writing a book! It will have actual pages full of sentences to read!

I'm trying to find out what goes into a submission packet for late-night TV writers! Apparently, it is a giant secret! WTF! It's like trying to find a fat kid who DOES NOT smell like Burger King!

Also! The Bermuda Triangle is located off the coast of Twitter, between Facebook and a news feed icon! Unplug when the compass goes bananas!

That's what I'm up to! Hit me back, stranger! Have a happy day!


Jay Reatard - It Ain't Gonna Save Me

Mojopost Keyword Searches

Sometimes you scare me. Here is a list of recent keyword searches on Mojopost.

1. Mojopo Dies
2. Caligula
3. Naked Teen Rally
4. Michael Jackson latest
5. Naked surprises




Would anyone care to explain? Anyone. If you can explain #1, please remember to include your address and phone number.

Chicken Like Me

I meant to tell you about the chickens. When I came back from Olcott Beach, I discovered that two chickens had taken up residence on the lawn of an apartment complex across the street. Right, OK – but I don’t live on Old MacDonald’s Farm. I live in Chicago.

I took a few photos of the chickens. One is white and one is black – together they were the Yin and Yang of free-range urban life.

Everyone who walked the street stopped to gawk at the chickens in the bushes. Dogs pulled against their leashes trying to get a whiff and a taste. I fed the chickens popcorn and, as a much as I enjoyed the diversion, it occurred to me that I should lend a hand towards getting the chickens off the street. The idea was to have a county employee stop by (maybe in a red convertible) and offer the chickens a ride to a fairyland/coop, where they could raise chicks and live as one. Like a big dummy, I called the local administrative office about the chickens but was told that my neighborhood has no animal control officers and to (more or less) suck it. I thought that was the end of it until the cops came.

The cops beat the bushes with their batons, hoping to scare the chickens out of hiding. This did not work. Also, it was about 500 degrees that day and everyone knows that patience fries at anything above 85. The cops left a young man behind to figure it out. He was wearing official-looking khakis and a polo shirt, so I’m guessing he must have been some kind of trainee with no seniority. The man brought an empty file box with him, just like the kind you have in your office. It was so, so not a convertible.


While the baton swinging and waiting game went on, residents at the apartment complex became agitated. It started with a blond woman in a tube top, who was announcing to neighbors and passers-by that the cops were after the chickens. “Can you believe it? Who would call up on the chickens?”






Other tube-topped people came out to peek and old ladies with dogs stopped and stared. One geezer in a t-shirt and boxers came outside on his walker. “Leave the chickens alone!” he yelled. “They aren’t hurting anyone! Leave them alone!” Ut oh.

I’m watching all of this and I’m thinking, “Holy shit. These people hate me now! They think I hate the chickens!” I cursed my happy daydream about chicken parks with fountains and golden nests. Just then, Khaki Boy caught the white chicken and shoved it into a box.

The young man was growing weary - of the complaints, the heat, who knows? He split and left the chicken of color behind. Poor little dark meat is still on the street. Isn’t that always how it goes?

Big Bang Booty

To celebrate my first day of a smoking cessation program I enjoyed a full pack of cigarettes. I’ve begun taking a prescription medication to quit smoking, one that causes some people to develop suicidal tendencies and act violently, but the worst side effect I’ve experienced so far is gas. Not just any gas, but legendary, prolific gas. If I put a kazoo up my rear, I could blow the entirety of “O Fortuna” from Carmina Burana. During the first week of this program, I'm allowed to smoke my face off. If I have one left after the gas attack.

Pardon me. Excuse me. “Life begins as a gaseous cloud,” I tell myself. “These are not farts – these are my nebulas.”

The pill I am taking works like this: It finds the pleasure centers in my brain where nicotine parties, and then refuses admittance to any and all comers. Nicotine is deflected and thus, I lose what I like to call The Ahh Factor while smoking. Without the Ahh I don’t receive a punch of dopamine when smoking, but I am suddenly aware of heaviness in my lungs, the wreaking stench of cigarettes and my overburdened ashtray.

You wouldn't believe what I've done in the past to keep smoking. I've stood outside in blizzards and thunderstorms. I've picked up lit cigarettes I dropped on the pavement to spare my fix, places where dogs poop and bums stew. I have gone out of my way to make time, space and money for this habit because I enjoyed it very much. Turns out I don't really like smoking. I'm just in it for dopamine.

I bought a pair of sandals earlier this summer, and I never wear them because they make a farting sound when I walk. I put on those sandals yesterday and when I got my stride on, I sounded just like an idling tiller. This quit-smoking program is making me famous in ways I could only dream about.

Gotta run now – it’s time for my pill.

Later today: A story about the chickens in my neighborhood. In Chicago. The cops came…

Mojopoll: Latest Results Now Available

Results from the previous Mojopoll results are in. As it turns out, Dianetics (by L. Ron Hubbard) is a book people have bought to poop on at different points in their lives (almost 78% percent of you). The other book you are most likely to express your anal gland on is 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. Today we learned that you are not falling for hoodoo or gurus. YAY, we love learning!



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Before we head off to the new Mojopoll, think of your favorite time of day. Set the stage in your mind and hold onto it for a moment. I’m having one of those moments myself right now because I’m sitting outside on the balcony. The people walking by on the street below sound interesting, plus I am wearing my favorite underwear. It is past midnight and there is only a small breeze. I can see planes flying to and from O’Hare and Midway, but I can’t hear them. The fat guy with a tiny dog is coming back from the gas station with his nachos, right on time. I can think when it’s like this, and I don’t mind if I do. Yes, I would love another! Thanks for asking.

Folks, I’d love to know the answer to this question: When is your favorite time of day? The poll is on your right. Feel inclined to offer the why’s and because’s in the comment section below. Be as honest as you please. The traffic here is light on Tuesdays.

Have a happy day!

Mojopoll - Results and New Poll (Books I Want To Poop On)

I asked Mojopost readers which judge they would pick for the Supreme Court if Sonia Sotomayor breaks another leg, and almost everyone chose The International Chili Society. According to you, people who can award blue ribbons to bowls of chili are just as capable of making decisions about gun control, abortion and stem cell research. And now you all understand how we roll in the US of A – on our stomachs.

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One person chose Judge Taylor in the last Mojopoll. I know because I picked that one myself. “Who the heck is Judge Taylor – is he on Court TV or UPN?” someone asked. Hmmm. Well, I guess you all lied when you said you read To Kill A Mockingbird. Now does Judge Taylor ring a bell or wasn’t he mentioned in Cliff Notes?

You remind me of fellow I knew in college. He used to stock his Ikea bookshelves with all kinds of “important books” by “noted authors” he knew nothing about, and he thought women would find his bookshelves irresistible. It all fell apart one day when a girl asked him something about Camille Paglia’s menopause book.

Oh sure, I’ve posed as a fan of a book I never read. Sometimes it speeds up a conversation with a real boor. I did it at a dinner party once, when everyone was talking about “The Celestine Prophecy”, a book I would gladly load into a cannon and blow into a convenient landfill. If any book needs to be a garbage bomb, I’d have to say that “The Celestine Prophecy” is in my Top Five. I tried to finish that book, but it made me feel like I had to cut somebody. No, I didn't look back.

Here’s your task for today. Help me remember some of the worst books ever written. I’ve suggested five books I would poop on, listed at the poll on your right. I can add other books to the list if more than five people mention the same title. Hit me up. Which books would you most like to poop on?

Party At Planet Nutrition

Hello, world! I am transmitting this message from a tropical beach on Planet Nutrition. Everyone reading Mojopost is invited! The escape hatch is at your fingertips.






If Debbie Downer squashed your Moon Pie on the bus ride over, don’t worry! Moon Pies grow on the tops of ponds on Planet Nutrition – like lily pads - and they are LOADED with fortifying vitamins, minerals and important fibers. YAY, WE LOVE FIBERS!

Here is the secret password. Don’t forget it. What you have to do is put your sloppy mouth in the crook of your elbow and blow as hard as you can. BRRFFFPPP! Ta-daah and welcome to Planet Nutrition! Holla back, earflinks!

Do you like to be tickled? You can get tickled pink, tickled silly and plum tickled in the Tickle Lounge. No appointment necessary.

Mr. Wobblyhands is working his magic in the Nutrition state of Refreshment. Everything you like is served there. All of it. Each. Don’t forget to toast your neighbors to receive a complimentary deli platter.



If you do any sightseeing at Nutrition, by all means DO visit the Rubber Canyon in North Funtime (right off I90). There’s Thorazine Mountain, Warm Blanket Falls and the Universe’s Biggest Swedish Fish. Ride the Jell-O-coaster as soon as possible. Smushing through the wall of flan at the end is my favorite part!

What are you waiting for?




Doodlin' Song - DooDooDoo

Human Toileting

No, Michael, I was not aware that human toileters were suffering in the Third World. When you sent me that note about modern-day slave labor it was the first time I’ve ever heard about human toileters. I could see something like this happening in Germany, though.

Michael, this has to be stopped immediately. I don’t care what I have to sign, I’ll do anything to make human toileting stop! Every time a human is used as a toilet a part of me dies! WHAT CAN I DO TO WIPE OUT HUMAN TOILETING?

I was angry but I caught myself. As I was about to head out the door and demonstrate, I realized that I’m not going to help anyone by dressing as a toilet and sitting on Michigan Avenue. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it is that performance art sucks a bag of dicks and nobody gets it. People like the Internet! Everybody gets that (except for my mother). Count me in for any (and all!) on-line polls.

I'll be all around in the dark. I'll be everywhere – at all hours of the night. Wherever there's a flame war, I'll be there. Wherever there's a forum moderator beating up a guy, I'll be there. I'll be in the way people Tweet when they're mad. And when the people are sitting on their own john, because they won’t be human toileters anymore, I’ll be there in spirit.

Light a candle for them, won’t you?

Bishop Paul Morten & the Greater St. Stephens Choir - We Shall Overcome (rawks!)

Souter Buzz

Supreme Court Justice David Souter is retiring. Find out what his neighbors are saying.

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Eric Schulman: Dave’s retiring? Oh wow, I’m so happy for him. We started working together around the same time. When he lived on Elmwood I was living on Peachtree, so we used to carpool. He was thinking about quitting when the Gore v. Bush thing came up, because we both knew Bush was a retarded moron. But I told him to hang in there. Why would you dump your pension for Bush? That’s crazy talk.



Kaneasha de Palo: Oh my Lord – is he OK? I just saw him last week at the Town Hall. He was paying his water bill. I thought he looked fine! I don’t think he has any kids to look out for him, either. David never got married. Some people in the neighborhood talk about that, but I never paid attention. His lawn was always so pleasant to look at, you know? And he’s very well groomed. Naturally, people made assumptions. Not me. I think he’s a very nice man and I hope he enjoys his retirement.




Pat Corker: You know what this means, right? President Muslim is going to hit the Hopium pipe and pick a new judge. I can see the ad on Craigslist now. “Wanted: Trans-gendered abortionist with a law degree to clean out my unicorn’s stable.” This country is going to hell.

Black Woman Struggles To Make Ends Meet

Like many Americans, First Lady Michelle Obama has taken on extra responsibilities to help her family. When her almost-bankrupted employer, the United States of America, was forced to downsize Mrs. Obama’s position was nearly outsourced to a corporation based in China. Rather than watch another American job go overseas, President Barack Obama has found a way to keep his wife in D.C. while maximizing her functionality.

In the past, first ladies were utilized as a social networking application. They were expected to:

• Decorate the president’s arm.
  

• Sit through lectures at elementary schools.
  

• Develop exciting drinking habits.
  

Michelle Obama will continue to provide those resources, but her role as expanded to include lawn maintenance.

Mrs. Obama will also serve as the First Lunch Lady at the White House cafeteria.















Additionally, Mrs. Obama will provide pooper-scooping services to the First Dog, Bo Obama.














In a show of support, French First Lady Carla Bruni has taken on the job of receptionist at Elysée Palace in Paris.

Jitterbug In Olcott Beach

For the first time in the history of ever Mojopost is featuring a guest blog by Jane Craptable, a 13 year-old pancake magnate and writer from Olcott Beach, NY. Business minded readers may be more familiar with Jane’s accomplishments as CEO of Dee Dah Dee De Dee Pancakes! (sing the name out loud, it’s more fun that way). Congratulations, Jane, for making it through my extensive vetting process. Welcome!

Jane would like to introduce you to her neighbors. SPOILER ALERT: Jitterbug IS his real name.

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As you may or may not know, I am Mojopo’s niece from the ever so famous Olcott Beach. Aunt Mojo sent me a blog idea and I was thrilled! She wanted me to explain to you what kind of folks we have up here.

First of all, there is a man in Olcott Beach named Jitterbug. He has been alive longer then anyone else I know. The only thing keeping him alive is the toxic Olcott fish he eats, and all the alcohol he drinks.

Jitterbug is African American. Whenever I whine about school he starts up with the "back in the day I wasn't allowed to go to school cuz I'm black" thing. I wonder if he hates some white people.

Do you want to know what Jitterbug looks like? He's about 6'5” but he's all hunched over with a cane. His face is fun because it always looks like he’s saying “ya know?” and talks like he's drunk, even when he is sober.

Jitterbug loves to hand out money. One time I hurt my arm and he handed me his wallet saying "You’re gonna have to pay the hospital bills!" Of course I did not take his money! You wanna know where Jitterbug is right now? In the hospital bleeding out of his anus from his drinking! He's gonna need surgery before he’s all right. I hope he remembered his wallet.

Next, I better tell you about some other crazy neighbors we have. Like Scooter Kid! The Scooter Kid is about 20 and he rides this scooter all the time – even to get his mail or when he delivers pizza! It drives the entire neighborhood nuts! He built that piece of trash himself and now he is in love with it.

Something else you should know is that the local school has just fired another pedo. Yup, just this week we had a teacher charged with "sexting", 2 or 3 counts of 3rd degree sexual abuse and stuff. Do I need to carry pepper spray to school now?

Olcott Beach has all kinds of people - gossips, old ladies and we even have couples that get drunk and break windows. There is a woman down the street who picks through our garbage, too. A few months back, a little boy tried to steal a gold fish out of the pond in our front yard. My mother told him she was going to call the police. I think she scared the pee out of him! Where do I fit into this place? I fit because I am weird, too, and I like that very much.

I bet I convinced everyone reading this to take a trip to Olcott Beach! I am sure they would have some fun! Jitterbug might be out of the hospital by then.





Ok, love you! Bye! xoxoxoxox

The Back Forty Of My Youth

When I was a child growing up in Darfur, my parents forced me to labor in their fields. Every morning Mom packed me a can of tears for lunch before I left to plow the back forty. When she forgot my can opener, I was forced to eat my right leg for nourishment. If I returned for dinner late, or if the oxen had eaten the sacks of weevils I collected for our meal, I was made to sleep on a pile of bones that belonged to the children who came before me. I learned at a young age that gardens were the playgrounds of sadists.

“Why can’t I just spend the summer watching Luke and Laura like NORMAL kids?” I cried. “Has God forsaken me?” While YOU spent the summer by the pool or sailing with your family (I said I’m not bitter), I was not allowed to join you until the overlords were satisfied with my work on their flower beds and infinite rows of vegetables. I’m sorry if I was too tired to play Duck Duck Goose, my friends. My tiny back was broken by 3:00 every summer day, but they never broke my will. That’s how I stayed alive.

I still see the weeds in my dreams. For every two I pull out of the ground, a forest replaces them.

Yesterday I bought flower boxes, seeds and a watering can. I can’t quite explain why I did this. Stockholm Syndrome maybe? Am I identifying with my captors, so that I might BE ONE OF THEM? I can’t be sure. All I know is that I put my father in the ground and now I want something to come up. It is going to work.

Ween – Push Th’ Little Daisies

We Only Look Small

If an alien took a photograph of the Milky Way you and I would best be viewed in a microscope. Feeling small? Don’t, it would be a mistake. Cheer for the alien who had the inspiration to look closer. That person is going to help you make this life matter.

Yesterday I tried to write a blog about news I had missed while I was out of town. I never felt what I was writing because my mind has been settled on Olcott Beach and my father dying. I had this crazy idea that I should try and type something mainstream-ish in order to be a part of the on-line community. Like I used to. Much of my work is based on improvisation so I tried to react to the present. I’ve heard that it is important for grieving people to get back on track but I can tell you for certain that this process has a mind of its own and little regard for timetables and blog traffic.

The truth is that I want to wave at the alien with the microscope. Something important has happened in my life and I am eager to connect with other people. My experience is not unique; we’ve all been through things so why not go through it together? However, I have learned that everyone has an exclusive story that the big picture fails to show. We are as rare as our own fingerprints and not everyone has the time or patience for a better look. I’m making more time because I know better now.

If you’re wondering where I am going with this it has to do with torture. As many of you know, the US government has tortured some of the men accused of masterminding 9/11. This revelation has affected me.

I know what it is like to see a parent tortured and I can’t forgive my father’s doctor or his disease. I doubt I ever will. Likewise, those men in jail (as awful as they were) probably have children who will remember the inhumanity their parent endured. Torture perpetuates hatred. Real hatred, always echoing and violet in color, feels impossible to eliminate. For that reason alone I know that torture is never correct. Torture deflects humanity. It overcomes reasoning.

Compel yourself to take a closer look at the world. Decide that there are better ways to do things.

Kill Ur Internet

Having spent the most of my time off-line since February I discovered that I don’t need the Internet as much as it needs me. The whole time you’re on this thing, one might feel like their mind is engaged with information and newsy things, which is exactly what the Internet would have you believe. The truth is that the Internet has settled into your lower intestine, it is laying eggs and moving on to new hosts.

Sally, I’m so serious.


The truth is that world outside your window isn’t half as much fun as having a digitally infected colon. In real-life you have to keep listening to people, and you can’t just pretend to log-off. For that reason alone I am willing to keep the worm in my rear, but I think it is good for me to endure things sometimes. It might even keep me humble. I bought some puzzle magazines to keep me busy, girl, and to prove a point. I'm a fricking genius with Frameworks and I don't care who knows it. It could happen to you, too.

The other truth is that real human beings are much more interesting that anything you can play with on-line. They say the craziest, most beautiful things. They have real arms to reach out with. Their flowers smell better, too. For all of the information we are privy to on-line, there are other things we miss about people and their gifts if we cannot see their faces.

Further, we don’t really need most of the information we receive on-line. Some of the information is very good and the rest of it is only helping you waste time. How many times have to looked up obscure, ridiculous information because you have a half hour to spare? You said it would be five minutes but that was wishful thinking.

There is a wealth of information on-line but most of it is clutter. It is the remnants in the bottom of your purse and junk in your shed you might never need. The worm feeding in your rectum won’t point this out but I will.

All My Love,
Mojopo.

The Load Out/Stay – Live 1978

Back To Olcott Beach

Hello, folks --

I’m going to be in and out of pocket for a few weeks because I’m going back to Olcott Beach. My father is sick and it would be a good idea to come around. I’ll be staying with Mom.

Mom does not have cable or Internet access, mostly because she thinks each are the Devil’s work (“idle hands, blah blah blah”). I’m thinking about packing gin in my bathrobe.

In the event I find a stray Internet signal on Althea Street, I’ll let you know. Other times I will drive through the woods over a dirt path to my sister’s house and plug in there, as time permits. Mostly I will be hanging out with Mom and the rest of my family, visiting Dad in the ICU. It’s going to be like this for as long as it needs to be.

Until I get back, gorge yourself on the Tubes and think good thoughts. Thanks much. OK bye!

Your Pal,
Mojopo

Weekly Poll Results - The Internet And You

You people seem to have no regard for The Bible. Last week I conducted a highly scientific Mojopoll to find out about your Internet usage. I already know that you value your on-line time above personal hygiene and family, but it turns out that you love your Interwebs more than The Bible – even though it was Christmastime! Second favorite? Chicken Nuggets. Congratulations, you bunch of zombie-pinko pagans. I hope you’re happy now!

This week’s poll is “Which social network or forum has the biggest ghetto?”

Twitter
ABC News forums
Drudge Report comment section
HuffingtonPost
MySpace
Facebook

And when I say “ghetto” I mean “illiterate fox hole” and “ill-informed moron cave”, or “the place where I will bazooka a clutch of tards”. If you have bigger ideas about even worse places on the net that make you want to punch a wall, lay it on the line. Use this time to vent, instead of plotting the demise of your enemies. Get it out – you will feel better!

Regular programming will resume after the holidays.

Your Pal,
Mojopo

The Daily Beast Cheat Sheet Condensed

Now you know why all blogs sound the same - The Cheat Sheet rules. Tina Brown will homogenize you all, and laugh and laugh and laugh… On the other hand, I can make it shorter and cut to the chase.

* Ted Stevens, an elderly felon from Alaska, failed to win his long-winded senate seat. Ted is famous for calling the Internet “The Tubes” and soliciting a bridge to nowhere. He got popped for taking bad donations. I would never do that.

* Eric Holder, a veteran Washington lawyer, is going to be Obama’s attorney general. Holder is the anti-Gonzales, in that he actually believes in the rule of law and read The Constitution more than twice. Girl – it’s like Christmas, but early.

* Texas Grand Jury Indicts Cheney, Gonzales
Dick (“Darth”) Cheney and former Attorney General Alberto (“Igor”) Gonzales have been indicted on separate charges stemming from alleged prisoner abuse in federal detention centers, CNN reports. Did I say early Christmas? I meant Christmas, Halloween and Memorial Day all wrapped up in one package. Savor it like Parmesan cheese. Nothing may come of this, per usual, but it will be fun to watch.

* Iran’s Nuclear Plant Set for 2009 Launch
Talk about truth in advertising. Iran is launching a nuclear plant, all right. A plant with GPS, aerodynamic tailfins and an American flag painted on the side, with a big red slash through it.

* Dems Spare Lieberman
In an unprecedented display of testicle-free decision-making processes, US Democrats spared turncoat Sen. Joe Lieberman from having his penis smacked with a ruler in the public square. Even though Joe called Obama a terrorist-loving Socialist pinko while campaigning for Grampy McCain! Can you smell my outrage?

* Sarah Palin’s $7 Million Book Deal
Here I am asking for donations in a slightly coherent manner, while that nitwit Sarah Palin is going to rake in millions for her coveted pop-up book for mouth breathers and douchebags. Oh yeah, I’m bitter. Who’s going to be her ghostwriter? Tina Fey, I hope. HAHAHA.