The LEFTY thread.

[Guest]

As a result of an overwhelming lack of requests, and with research
help from that renowned scientific journal SPY magazine (January, 1990)
--here is the annual scientific inquiry into Santa Claus.

1) No known species of reindeer can fly. BUT there are 300,000 species
of living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of these are
insects and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out flying reindeer
which only Santa has ever seen.

2) There are 2 billion children (persons under 18) in the world. BUT
since Santa doesn't (appear) to handle the Muslim, Hindu, Jewish and
Buddhist children, that reduces the workload to 15% of the total - 378
million according to the Population Reference Reference Bureau. At an
average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that's 91.8 million
homes. One presumes there's at least one good child in each.

3) Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different
time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west
(which seems logical). This works out to 822.6 visits per second. This is
to say that for each Christian household with good children, Santa has
1/1000th of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the chimney,
fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat
whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney, get back into the
sleigh and move on to the next house. Assuming that each of these 91.8
millions stops are evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course,
we know to be false but for the purposes of our calculations we will
accept), we are now talking about .78 miles per household, a total trip of
75-1/2 million miles, not counting stops to do what most of us must do at
least once every 31 hours, plus feeding and etc.

This means that Santa's sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second, 3,000
times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-made
vehicle on earth, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per
second - a conventional reindeer can run, tops, 15 miles per hour.

4) The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming
that each child gets nothing more than a medium-sized lego set (2 pounds),
the sleigh is carrying 321,300 tons, not counting Santa, who is invariably
described as overweight. On land, conventional reindeer can pull no more
than 300 pounds. Even granting that "flying reindeer" (see point #1) could
pull TEN TIMES the normal amount, we cannot do the job with eight, or even
nine. We need 214,200 reindeer. This increases the payload - not even
counting the weight of the sleigh - to 353,430 tons. Again, for
comparison - this is four times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth.

5) 353,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air
resistance - this will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion as
spacecraft re-entering the earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer
will absorb 14.3 QUINTILLION joules of energy. Per second. Each. In
short, they will burst into flame almost instantaneously, exposing the
reindeer behind them, and create deafening sonic booms in their wake. The
entire reindeer team will be vaporized within 4.26 thousandths of a second.
Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces 17,500.06 times
greater than gravity. A 250-pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim)
would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of force.

In conclusion - If Santa ever DID deliver presents on Christmas Eve, he's
dead now. Merry X-mas.

[Guest]

Have you ever heard the story of Jesus Christ, Santa Claus & the Magic Panda?
No? Well sit down and I will tell you the tale!

You're already sitting? No kidding, I guess the Magic Panda was right. He told me you'd be sitting down already!

Once upon a time Jesus Christ was walking along and he saw a star fall out of sky. He ran after the star, thinking the star might be hurt.

When he found it however, he saw it wasn't a star at all! It was an old fat man named Santa Claus!

Santa Claus was bleeding and his suit was all red!

Jesus helped Santa to his feet and asked "Are you okay?"

"Ho ho ow ow ow!" cried Santa, balling up his hands and crying. He took off his white hat and wiped his bloody nose on it. Now even his hat was red! "No! I'm not okay! I just found out that god doesn't exist! My reindeer all laughed at me and told me 'You old fool! There's no god!' and then they flew off and I fell out of my magic sled because I was in shock and dismay!"

"What!" cried Jesus. "What do you mean there's no god? Of course there is a god! I am his son!"

"Really?" asked Santa and he stopped crying. He looked at the skinny Jesus with his scraggly beard. "You don't look like the son of a god, are you sure?"

"Oh yes! I was eating some wild berries and I had a vision of an angel, and the angel told me I was the son of god!"

"Are you sure the berries weren't bad?" asked the skeptical Santa.

"No, I'm sure because I asked my mother later and after I bugged her again and again, she finally admitted I was the son of god. She had an immaculate conception!" boasted Jesus.

"An immaculate what?" asked Santa.

"An immaculate conception! You see god came down from heaven, turned into a magical mist and shagged my mother while she was sleeping."

"God shagged your mother?" asked Santa, incredulous.

"Yep! And thats why she had me and was still a virgin!"

"How do you know your mother didn't just lie?" demanded Santa.

"Are you calling my mother a liar?!" shouted Jesus, suddenly becoming angry and punching Santa twice in the nose until his nose turned red and started to bleed again.

"Arg! Stop hitting me! I'm just saying that as nice your mother is, she could have just lied so you would stop bugging her!" cried Santa, grabbing his hat again and using it catch all the blood.

"Hmm..." thought Jesus. "You might be right. I did bug her for 40 days and 40 nights... after losing all that sleep, she might have lied."

"So who is your real father if she did lie?" asked Santa.

"Joseph I guess. Except that can't be because my mother was a virgin when she and him got married. And god then beat Joseph to her, and shagged her before Joseph got a chance."

"What would have happened if someone else had shagged her before Joseph?" asked Santa, curious.

"Oh, she would have been stoned to death. They might even have called her a witch and burned her for witchcraft."

"Or maybe they could have fed her to elves?" suggested Santa.

"Fed her to the elves?"

"Oh yes! Elves are mean little fellas with pointy ears and they like to play pranks on people! I know quite a few elves myself, I keep them locked in a dungeon where they make toys for me," explained Santa.

"And what do you do with the toys?" asked Jesus.

"Once per year, every december I fly around the world and deliver them to children that are good."

"Wow, that must be a lot of kids! How many children do you deliver to?"

"Just three. The rest are all little monsters! The parents all lie to them and buy them gifts anyway!" growled Santa. Then he shrugged. "I do make a lot of money off selling the toys however. The elves work for free."

"Wow!" cried Jesus and sat down, looking very thoughtful. "But why do you deliver the toys in the first place?"

"Because a clock fell on my head years ago and it seemed like a good idea at the time. I've been doing that ever since."

"But why in december?" asked Jesus.

"I don't know. I guess people like buying gifts that time of the year. It is the Yuletide."

"Oh you mean that old pagan belief about bring a yule log to a friends house in order to burn it and keep the place warm?"

"Yep!" said Santa. "That old pagan belief is really profitable these days!"

Jesus sighed. "My birthday is in March, but a lot of friends keep thinking its in December. Lazy bastards only give me yuletide presents in December and completely ignore my real birthday!"

"So god shagged your mother and then you were born sometime in March?" asked Santa.

"Yes, but now that I've starting thinking about it, that doesn't make sense. Why would god sneak into my mother's room and shag her? Isn't that something an incubus would do?"

"Hmm..." thought Santa. "Yes, incubi are known to do that. Incubi are supposed to be fallen angels however, and if god doesn't exist then angels don't exist!"

"And yet your little elves exist?" asked Jesus, suddenly curious.

Santa shook his head. "Sorry, I made that up to keep a secret. I buy the gifts at Walmart. I'm a complete phoney!"

"So what creatures do exist?" asked Jesus. "Magic reindeer?"

"That was made up by the Swedish people, I borrowed it from them," admitted Santa.

"What about vampires?" asked Jesus.

"Thats a gypsy myth about a tribe of cannibals that got out of control."

"Goblins?"

"Don't make me laugh! Thats from a nursery rhyme."

"The flying monkeys in the Wizard of Oz?"

"Made up by some guy in the United States."

"Dragons?"

"Based on bones of dinosaurs that someone dug up and they invented legends to explain the bones."

"Zombies?"

"Go watch an 1970s hollywood movie sometime. Cheesy effects."

"Angels?"

"Ripped off from Sumerian legends about flying air spirits."

"Succubi?"

"Originally a religion that worshipped a bird goddess named Lilith in Mesopotamia, but was later changed by a group of people who worshipped a different god."

"Incubi?"

"Greek myth to explain why women got pregnant and why we have rapists in society. According to the greeks, all rapists are the sons of incubi."

"Kangaroos?"

"Oh those do exist, but when you meet one, they really aren't that exciting!" laughed Santa.

"What about leprechauns?"

"Invented by greedy Irish people who needed something to scare their children with."

"Struvvelpeter?"

"German myth about a guy who lives in the woods with really long fingernails. Again, it was just to scare children."

"What about the devil?"

"Hmm..." thought Santa. "I don't know. If the devil exists, then he too is a fallen angel, which means god does exist."

"Have you ever seen any proof that the devil exists?"

"Asides from people saying 'the devil made me do it'? Nope, nothing." Santa seemed rather sad.

"The world almost seemed like a happier place when we thought these things all existed," admitted Jesus, also sad. What about Eden?"

"Nope."

"Heaven?"

"No."

"Hell?"

"If it does, we're already there."

"The Land of Oz?"

"Again with that American? Don't you know Americans are full of shit?"

"Especially Nixon," agreed Jesus.

"Yes," said Santa. "Although Bush is catching up to him."

"I know!" cried Jesus. "The Magic Panda! He exists! He has to!"

"The Magic Panda?" asked Santa. "I've never heard of him!"

"Yes, the Magic Panda! And to prove it, lets go for a walk and find him!" declared Jesus.

So Jesus Christ and Santa Claus stood up and went for a walk.

They walked across Palestine, and they found no Magic Panda.

They walked across Egypt, and they found no Magic Panda.

They walked across Africa, and they found no Magic Panda.

They swam over to America, and they found no Magic Panda.

They swam over to Japan, and they found no Magic Panda.

They swam over to China, and they found several pandas, but no Magic Panda.

Finally in Tibet, Santa Claus and Jesus Christ sat down to have smoke break and share a doobie with some Tibetan monks.

It was while they were high on doobie-smoke that Santa claus, Jesus Christ and a bunch of monks finally saw the Magic Panda.

He was big and fat and rather purple looking.

The magic Panda walked by them and Jesus looked at Santa and said: "Haha, I told you so! The Magic Panda does exist!"

Santa laughed and giggled and said "Okay Jesus, you were right, but what do we do now?"

Jesus shrugged. "I don't know. I don't really want to worship a Magic Panda however."

The monk next to them giggled. "Why worship anything at all? Nothing exists."

Santa and Jesus looked at the monk and laughed like only a pair of stoned idiots could. "You're right monk! Nothing exists! I guess we should stay here and worship nothingness instead?"

"Only if you feel like it," said the monk and passed the doobie to them.

Jesus took a long drag, coughed and passed it to Santa. "I think I've finally figured out why people like religion. They have nothing else to believe in and are usually high and stupid all the time."

Santa giggled and passed the doobie to another monk. "So now we're just plain high. I don't know about you, but I'm going back to Florida and I'm going to get rich off selling Christmas presents."

"You live in Florida?" asked Jesus. "I thought you lived in the North Pole."

"No such pole and its too cold in northern Canada. Besides, Disneyland is just down the street from my place," said Santa, feeling kind of happy and stood up. "Well, I'm off to Florida to make money off of gullible Americans! See you later!"

Jesus laughed and waved good-bye. He took one last puff on a doobie and passed it to a monk.

"Where are you going?" asked the monk as Jesus stood up.

"I'm going back to Palestine to start a cult that preaches love and tolerance!" declared Jesus. "I figure if I can do some parlour tricks like walking on water, maybe I can get people to follow me around like crazy and give me money."

"Thats not a very nice thing to do. Messing with peoples minds and their religion is risky business. They might kill you for it," said the monk.

Jesus shrugged. "I admit its not nice, but sooner or later people will realize this religion thing is a big hoax. Its no more real than elves, goblins, leprechauns and vampires. If they're that stupid and gullible, thats not my problem."

The monk threw away the doobie. "Why not stay here and meditate on the beauty of life around you?"

"No thanks. Beauty is an illusion just like religion is. Its an illusion for stupid people who can't think for themselves. They can't see the reality around them. This world is a harsh place full of corruption. By making a group of gullible people think there really is a god, maybe then they will be nicer people."

The monk sighed, a bit sad and amused at the same time.

Jesus laughed. "Religion is a joke. If people want to believe in angels, devils, fairies and elves then they should go read Lord of the Rings or some such nonsense."

"There is many books of fairy tales out there," said the monk, very thoughtful.

"Yes, but I think the world needs one even better..." said Jesus.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And so Jesus sat back down and told the monk of his plan to go around telling fairy tales of a god who didn't exist. And later a bunch of "Christians" sat down 400 years later and wrote a book containing all of these fairy tales. They called it "the Bible". And to this day it has been the top-selling book in world history. It is a magical mystical story about a god, lots of animals, adam and eve, jesus christ and many other wonderful stories that roughly 500 million people in the world actually believe is real.

Meanwhile, the planet has 6 billion people and the vast majority of them are Buddhist.

After that is Islam. The second largest religion.

"Christianity" is one of the world's smaller religions and contains many skeptics because the religion is filled with lies about Santa Claus and other such fairy-tale garbage. Christianity often claims to be "superior" to other religions, but only because its worshippers are also the most stupid/gullible and uneducated about what happens in the rest of the world.

So go worship a god if you want to.

You must be stoned from smoking too much.

Maybe there's something in the water that makes you gullible.

Could it be the alcohol that they pass out in church?

What kind of religion would say "thou shalt not lie!" when the religion itself is the biggest lie of all.

Santa Claus my ass!

He and Jesus Christ (and god) are no more as real as the Magic Panda.

I hope you enjoyed reading this story. I hope it made you think about the nature of reality and the world around you. Our world is filled with poverty and we give money to churches. We should be giving money to schools and educating people instead. Religion blinds people. An education opens their mind to their reality.

Sadly many people would rather believe in a fairy-tale than face reality.

Even a small portion of the money the world spends on churches would solve all the world's poverty problems.

[Guest]

Santa-- He is an AC / DC Elf

Observation based on comments by Pastor James Knox
of Deland, Florida:
In Latin and Spanish, "San" is used before the names of male saints,
such as San Juan, San Luis Obispo, and San Diego
Also, "Santa" is used before the names of female saints,
such as Santa Maria, and Santa Lucia.
From this linguistic usage we can determine that Saint Nicholas
somehow morphed into Santa Claus. This would seem to
indicate one of two things:

 
1. Santa Claus is in fact a lady who is cross dressed in a man's outfit, complete with fake beard. This would be a real encouragement to the feminists to agitate for equal hiring and affirmative action to see more lady Santa Clauses.
2. Saint Nicholas is a drag queen who is using a female name, Santa Claus, as some sort of signal to the gay community.  

[Guest]

Xmas Cards From Famous People
In which Ashlee, Dubya, Tom Cruise and more wish you very happy holidays. Sort of


May the Lord bless you and keep you this wonderful holiday -- unless, of course, you are gay or thinking about becoming gay or unless you have at one time during the past three years considered in any way supporting the "gay lifestyle." You are all in my thoughts always, unless you are a woman or pagan or a liberal or Tom Cruise. By the way, materialism is evil and has robbed Christmas of its true meaning -- which is, of course, guilt and death and sin. Dig my gold-encrusted robes. Oh, and please buy my book. Available on Amazon for only 13 bucks! You save 32 percent! Joy to the world.
-- Pope Benedict XVI

Hey fans and doods and everyone else who was, like, totally duped into buying my new CD because you somehow believed that my voice didn't actually sound like a paper shredder drowning in pudding. I hope you all have, like, the rockinest Christmas ever! Thanks to all who supported me thru my "SNL" lip-synching fiasco and my drunken McDonald's rampage. But I rebounded! Did you hear me at the Billboard Music Awards? I shattered glass! Toes curled! Animals shuddered! I can too sing, even if critics think I sound like a D-grade Avril Lavigne being beaten with a live chicken, underwater! Rock, like, on! I am me! Or whatever.
-- Ashlee Simpson

This holiday season, I love you all. But I also hate you, too. I have more money than all of you put together, yet I am miserable. But still I am gorgeous and skinny and rich, so I am very, very happy. Sort of. But then again, not. Oh my God, what am I saying? Why do I have to put up with all you people? And this drug scandal! So unfair! Rehab is for divas and porn stars and the Olsen twins. The coke wasn't even all that good, you know? Why can you not get good blow these days? Oh crap, did I just write that out loud? Dammit. Note to British tabloids: Burn in hell you bloody baboons. I shall rise again. French Vogue forever! Merry Christmas everyone! Hi Naomi!
-- Kate Moss

To all Earth creatures great and meek: Greetings from on high! No, not that kind of "high," silly. Pills are bad! I am not gay! Get off the psychiatrist's couch and get yourself clear of all engrams! Beware: Xenu wants to suck your brain and impregnate your dog. I am now OT6 and know the secrets of "The Incident," the great alien war! Shhh! Katie and I wish you a very happy holiday, even though we Scientologists only believe in the Invisible Gnomes of Althion Galaxy 9 and therefore only exchange the "gift" of genetically engineered interdimensional alien DNA via elaborate color-coded colonics. Right, Katie? Katie is nodding yes and smiling that creepy, slightly narcotized smile that is now her trademark. Good girl, Katie!
-- Tom Cruise

Yo my peoples. I been shot nine times. Please buy my horrible video game. Most overrated rapper of the year! But yo, I look mean and badass, yo! Can't dance like Usher can't sing like Kanye can't rhyme like Em, but yo I sure can gangsta bling cool! I been shot nine times. Check out my new line of custom-embroidered linens at Pottery Barn, in the Northgate Mall. I'll be there 'tween 3 and 4 signin' pomegranate-scented candles and Berettas, yo. Merry Xmas. Peace out. I been shot nine times.
-- 50 Cent

Dear America. This holiday, our country must be strong. To be strong we must be able to yank out the fingernails and attach electrodes to the genitals of swarthy foreign people we do not like until their chest hairs burn and they finally reveal to us the location of their terrorist sleeper cell, or their university diploma, whichever. Without agony, there would be no Santa. You think those reindeer like to fly? You see Santa's whips? It is a world of pain and retribution, people. You are either a hammer or a nail. Be a hammer, America! Just like Jesus commanded. God bless.
-- Dick 'n' Rummy

Hello, little people. During this fine holiday season, unto you we shall bestow tiny glimpses of our unimaginable beauty. Alas, we cannot appear frequently in the same room together lest our joint radiance cause your eyeballs to explode in over-ecstatic delight. But be it known, we are thinking of you, always. Especially those of you who park our cars and bleach our teeth and provide day care for our little imported babies. Peace to all. Sorry about "Mr. and Mrs. Smith." Jen, please quit calling and hanging up. We know it's you.
-- Brad 'n' Angie, Maddox 'n' Zahara

Christ be with you, and also with this pile of toasted cheese sandwiches we so desperately need to consume lest we both shrivel into stick-like slivers of bone and loose skin and bitchin' Prada totes. Cigarettes and coffee, yay! We are America's sweethearts and screw that bitch Lindsay Lohan -- ptew ptew! We make all dreams come true. We may not be all that bright, but we sure are cute! You cannot have sex with us! Please quit wagering which of us will date/marry/be dumped by a soccer star/ Greek shipping tycoon/Wilmer Valderrama and fail at rehab first. Happy holidays, America. Please kneel before our terrifying billion-dollar fashion/magazine/DVD empire! Christmas yay! Totally!
-- Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen

Infidels shall pay by the mighty hand of Allah! Saddam not returning to dishonorable courtroom! OK seriously, happy holidays and thanks to CIA for totally botching kangaroo trial. So funny! Saddam is way humored! By the way, Osama is living like a king just off Jersey turnpike on Karl Rove's dime. I have proof! By the way, I was brutal heartless dictator and even I ran my country better than U.S. Ha! "Nation-building" my big fuzzy butt! By the way, I know where WMD is located! Inside scary capri pants of Ann Coulter! Ha! OK, back to laughing in face of infidel judge. Peace out.
-- Saddam

Please forgive lack of postmark on card, also lack of discernable background that might give away "secret" location of me (note: not Jersey turnpike). Ha! Is big joke, no? Over $300 billion for "war on terror" and you can't even find little old hairy me! Either I am mad genius, or your leaders are dumbern'a sack of garbanzo beans. Is both? Wow, Saddam begin to look more and more like Mel Gibson every day, no? Allah rain curses upon all infidels! Everybody Loves Raymond! Is Tom Cruise not gay? Allah crushes Santa like stale falafel patty! I kiss you!
-- Osama

Happy holidays to you, unless you are not me. Blue crayons and bubble bath. Who turned off the lights? No one will listen to me anymore. Gabba gabba gee, booga booga woo. See? What happened to the pretty songs and the cheers? What happened to all those creepy praying sycophants? Wow, that was a big word for me to write. The voices are getting louder, Mommy. Laura is muttering in pig Latin from over in the corner, rocking back and forth. No one is listening. Rubber band peanut butter sponge bath. Oh my God, I need a drink. What's that smell? Is my time almost up yet? Can I go home now? Happy holidays, America. The GOP loves you. Kidding.
-- George W. Bush

[Guest]

What God *Really* Told Bush
Apparently, it wasn't just "invade Iraq and Afghanistan in my name." A special report


Scene: White House private residence, night, not long ago. President Bush present in his most favoritest guns 'n' bunnies PJs. Laura asleep, knocked out by a combination of too much Good Housekeeping and excessive hair-spray fumes. Suddenly, a burst of black smoke. A deep, resonant voice speaks:


"Psst! George! God here, taking a break from supervising the well-being of eight billion troubled souls along with infinite galaxies of unimaginable vastness to speak with you directly one more time because, well, you're special, aren't you, George? Yes you are! Yes you are! OK, stop giggling. I have more commands. Get off the damn hobbyhorse, George, and get a pen and a notepad. No, not a crayon. I don't care if blue is your favori-- George! Get a pen! OK? Good. Here we go:

"As you know, I'm not quite what everyone thinks. I am not all benevolence and love and light. In fact, I have a downright dark side, mean and nasty and cunning, and I want you, George, to continue to be my special right-hand man. My special little guy. In fact, you shall help enact my wrath, Dubya. Doesn't that sound fun?

"There are three things I love, George: war, revenge, suffering. Oh, and smiting the heathens. OK, four things. And kickboxing. Five things. There are five things I love, Dubya. You with me? And you and your demon monkeys are enacting the first four admirably, George. Don't be shy, go ahead and tell those Palestinian officials you were commanded by God to "restore peace" in the Middle East by bombing nearly defenseless, pip-squeak Iraq and Afghanistan to smithereens. They love that stuff.

"But let's put the delicious war stuff aside for a moment. I need to round out my oeuvre. Here's the plan: I'm gonna wreak some major havoc on one of your poorest, most racially mixed, underfunded cities by hurling a massive hurricane at them, flooding the place and killing hundreds of poor people you don't even know exist because you thought they all lived somewhere in Africa. It's all right, the biggest city, New Orleans, will be full of Kerry-loving Democrats. Yeah, I thought you'd like that.

"Here's where you come in, George: When those rains come, I want you to sit back for a few days, stay in the hammock in Crawford, have a lemonade, OK? Let those dead bodies float around New Orleans like it was some remote village in Nigeria. Then look completely baffled when everyone blames you for your administration's miserable response. You'll take some flak for it, but did I ever say serving me would be easy? Besides, people need to know I'm still here, still angry, getting angrier. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you. How does eternal damnati-- er, blessed sainthood sound? Good.

"OK, moving on. I have a secret, George. Here it is: I hate this me-forsaken planet. All this so-called beauty, nature and the magic of science and the poetry of cells -- you know what Earth is to me? High maintenance, that's what. A massive pain in my hallowed butt. Growing all that food, blowing the wind, churning the oceans -- it's exhausting. Plus my energy bills are skyrocketing. Heating India and Turkey cost me 87 trillion last month alone. What am I, made of money? Well yes, of course I am. But no matter. I'm sick of it.

"Here's the plan, George: I want you to despoil, OK? Rivers and air and lakes, wildlife preserves and pristine forests and salmon runs and bird sanctuaries. Screw 'em, Dubya. Screw 'em all. I want you to be the worst environmental president in 50 years, OK? Hell, make it 100. I want you to roll back more environmental protections and do more damage to the place in eight months than my bitch Ronnie Reagan did in eight years. Rape the joint clean. Sell it all off to your cronies in big industry and help me hasten Armageddon. Deal? Here's the truth, Dubya: Earth's a giant liver-flavored Kong toy and you're a rabid terrier. Now, go get it, boy!

"Damn kids these days. Who needs so many? Why not send tens of thousands of them off to fight your two brutal, unwinnable wars? Why not Vietnam 2.0? Hell yes! Because if there's one thing I love more than useless wars, George, it's thousands of mutilated soldiers coming home in body bags, all draped in the pretty American flag. Twenty-one gun salute! For God and country! Righteous.

"Speaking of uppity kids, I know my own brat Jesus came down here once and mumbled some flower-child gibberish about turning the other cheek and not killing anyone and doing unto others as you would have them do unto you and yadda-yadda-yadda. That's what happens when you give the kids the car keys and an unsupervised weekend, am I right? It's all complete bupkes, but I don't have to tell you that, now do I?

"So here's what I want you to do, George. I want your demoralized military shlubs to capture as many swarthy types as possible, whenever they raid an Iraqi home or school or Afghan farm, and throw them all straight into a military prison and let 'em rot and wait for months, years for a fair hearing. Got it?

"Strip them naked! Stick electrodes on their genitals! Smear menstrual blood on their faces! Beat 'em senseless! I don't care if they're innocent. I sayeth unto you, innocence is overrated. Rape the boys, too. Then cover it all up and blame it all on a poor, dim-witted female soldier from Kentucky and shove her into prison for three years while all the honchos who sanctioned the torture (hi, Rummy!) merely smirk and walk away. God sayeth unto you all, rock on!

"I know, everyone says I'm made of pure love. Ha. Truth is, I'm made of aluminum chloride and coal cinders and something I'm not quite sure about but I think might be MSG. Oh yeah, and money. Fifties, mostly.

"I gotta run, George. But rest assured, I'll be back soon, with more ideas. But there's one more thing you need to know, one thing you absolutely cannot forget. Remember our Super Triple Secret, George? Pinky swear? Spit handshake? Atta boy.

"Here it is: We both know who I really am, don't we? I know you secretly admire my scaly red flesh, my shining black eyes, these bitchin' horns, the breath worse than Rove's after his morning meal of seared panda hearts. Of course you know the real God is more than a little disgusted by you and your administration, right?

"Well, screw her. Typical woman, all benevolent and chthonic and compassionate. We know who's really in charge of your nasty administration, don't we, Dubya? Damned right. And I mean that literally. Keep your hands in the fire, if you know what I mean. Now c'mere and give me a hot tongue kiss. Sorry about charring the carpet. Sweet dreams."

[liisawinkler]

woops okiedokies sorry about my apparently misinformed posts

my gift to incher and BitBEefy although this is not their thread LOL

[Bit Beefy]

Why thankyou Mz Winkler Beautiful as always.... Its the innocent butter wouldnt mealt in my mouth smile that does it for me

[Guest]

Ms Winkler
Thank you for such a great gift I tried to jump into my screen As to not Beefy or my usual thread (heh,heh) if your there, so will I be:bowdown:
Are you still going to Thailand?
your fan, incher

[mirimark]

I think the Lefty Topic is a good place for my comments on IRAN. I was just sitting here listening to CNN NEWS while I'm browsing here, and the Reporter is saying the President of IRAN just Banned/Outlawed Western Music saying its UNMuslin Like. My first thought was; No big shit, its O.k. if thats what the M A J O R I T Y wants. Then something clicked. The old saying
"" The Majority Rules "" Hmmmm. I've been in Retail for 18yr's and I've met just about every Personality Type and I have Learned that the Majority is not so well, how can I make this Politically Correct. The Majority of people have Little or no common sense. I am not saying the Majority is FLipp'n Dumb or Very STUPID, I'm not saying that, I'm talking about common sense. In conclusion,
I'd say the Majority Rules agenda is wrong and Very Dangerous. I don't want the majority of People with no common sense making Laws and decisions for Me.
I'm not claiming to be the Sharpest Pencil in the Pencil Box and I don't want to sound as if I am putting myself Higher up the Pedestal than everyone else but when it comes to not stepping in a pile of shit while hiking the trail then well, I guess I am.

[smuttleydfs]

Lefty with his own personal thread?

What is this world coming to?

I guess I need to peruse the forum more often!!!!

You go dude!!!!

[Guest]

THE NEW BUSH CONDOM!! STOCK UP BEFORE YOUR NEXT TRIP TO LOS!!

[Snick]

THE NEW BUSH CONDOM!! STOCK UP BEFORE YOUR NEXT TRIP TO LOS!!

I'd order a few, but I'm sure they are extra small.

[Guest]

...extra small AND guaranteed to fail sooner or later

[Guest]

My good friend, that OLD WARHORSE Ramboz aka Uncle Danny, made my day when he sent me this pic a short time ago. The sonuvagun has been apparently BSing me all this time about being a Republican too.

[Guest]

Ten Thoughts to Ponder for 2006

Number 10 - Life is sexually transmitted.

Number 9 - Good health is merely the slowest possible rate at which one
can die.  (Eat right and exercise, die healthy)

Number 8 - Men have two emotions: Hungry and Horny. If you see him
without an erection, make him a sandwich.

Number 7 - Give a person a fish and you feed them for a day; teach a
person to use the Internet and they won't bother you for weeks.

Number 6 - Some people are like a Slinky...not really good for anything,
but you still can't help but smile when you see one tumble down the
stairs.

Number 5 - Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in
hospitals dying of nothing.  

Number 4 - All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no
attention to criticism.

Number 3 - Why does a slight tax increase cost you two hundred dollars
and a substantial tax cut saves you thirty cents?

Number 2 - In the 60's, people took acid to make the world weird. Now
the world is weird and people take Prozac to make it normal.

AND THE NUMBER 1 THOUGHT FOR 2006 - We know exactly where one cow with
mad-cow-disease is located among the millions and millions of cows    in
America but we haven't got a clue as to where thousands of illegal
immigrants and terrorists are located. Maybe we should put the
Department of Agriculture in charge of immigration.