Archive for the 'jesus is fo' shizzle' Category

Church signs that have lately given me the heebies and/or the jeebies

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Anonymous Coworker
on January 30, 2007 @ 9:24 am
in atheism!, jesus is fo' shizzle, sex and word nerd
. 16 Comments

Spelling, grammar, and word choice all verbatim.

PANCAKE SUPER (Unfortunately found outside of the Korean Baptist church.)

TOUCH HIS GARMENT (I guess this is better than “Touch his holy meat-hammer” but it’s still weird.)

SOMETIMES A LOVE DIVIDED IS A LOVE MULTIPLIED (wtf? Is this church advocating divorce? Or just bad math?)

IT FEELS LIKE FAMILY (This one REALLY skeeves me out for some reason.)

ABROTION IS ALWAYS WRONG (So is terrible spelling. Jesus hates you.)

COME INTO THE SON (I’m pretty sure this would be the best orgasm you’ve ever had.)

Last of the Nog-hicans

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Anonymous Coworker
on January 11, 2007 @ 8:41 am
in food, jesus is fo' shizzle, nog and potty humor
. 19 Comments

I’m sort of almost down to the last three nogs in my fridge, kinda. I have some powdered nog that I’ve yet to try, and my brother bought me some cannog so I could revisit THAT quasi-dairy nightmare, and I’ve still got that soy nog because it doesn’t expire for some time. I believe the soy nog actually says something like “EXP 03-05-2245 or RAPTURE” so I don’t think it’s going bad any time soon.

But back to the three “regular” nogs.

The first one I’d like to review is Moovers Eggnog, henceforth referred to as santanog.

Santa Eggnog

Santanog tastes nothing like it sounds. I imagine a real nog made from the REAL Santa, or at least a hodge-podge of his sweat and other liquid excretions, would probably taste pretty foul. Hope would say that a a magical elf such as that jolly fat man would probably taste like fresh-baked cookies, whimsy, and 100% uncut Colombian cocaine. Well, hope would be wrong. Common sense tells us that a fat man wrapped in animal hides who eats nigh but room-temperature milk and stale cookies will ooze a veritable river of coagulating goo. I do not want to drink Santa’s nog-goo.

Lucky for me, santanog tastes nothing like that. In fact, it’s pretty benign. It tastes like just about every other run-of-the mill nog I’ve had this season. Not quite as tasty as Turkey Hill, but not so bad that it makes me want to vomit uncontrollably for hours. In fact, no nog has made me do that this year. Kudos to you nog farmers!

The second nog up for review is Promised Land nog, henceforth referred to as jesusnog.

Promised Land nog

I’m not calling it jesusnog because it’s like licking Jesus (c’mon, he’s the Alpha and the Omega, you KNOW he’s got to taste delicious), but because the nog makers have an agenda:

promised land eggnog

In case you can’t read that it says: “For unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given… and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.” Isaiah 9:6

Just so you know, in the King James version of the Bible (and most other versions), the part represented by the ellipses is, “and the government shall be upon his shoulder”. That’s right. The government. Talk about separation of church and state. This nog advocates for Jesus to run the government. That’s a powerful nog… and yet, it didn’t really taste that great. It was okay, the same as all the others, but I was expecting a little bit more out of it. For one, it’s the only nog made from cows that didn’t have hormones. For two, it was the only nog I’ve ever had that came in a glass bottle, so when you’re done drinking it, you can break it over someone’s head, or use it as a weapon in an old-fashioned Christmas hobo knife-fight. So, like santanog, jesusnog doesn’t live up to its own eponymous hype.

The final nog that I tried was Lactaid Nog, henceforth referred to as, um, lactaidnog.

Lactaid Nog

Lactaid nog was bland, boring, and left a filmy white coating on my tongue that hardened over time and began to flake off after a few hours. Pieces of the paper-like nog coating were being sucked into my lungs each time I inhaled, and it made my breath stink like a department store Santa for days.

Or at least that’s what I would have said if lactaidnog hadn’t blown all the other nogs out of the fucking water. Aside from the rednog, the Colonial Custard, and Turkey Hill, this is the best nog I’ve ever had. I will go out of my way in the future to find lactaidnog, and I will drink the bottom out of the carton, tear the carton apart and lick the insides, and then stab whatever stockboy gets in the way of me and my newfound addiction. It’ll never replace traditional nog, but it sure as hell gives it a run for its money. And because it’s lactose free I probably could sit down a drink a whole carton while slovenly reveling in my own nutmeg flavored filth. If there’s any of this stuff left on shelves in stores anywhere near you, buy it, and drink it, and clear your schedule, because you’re going to want to bathe in this shit.

Happy Satan’s Birthday!

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on October 31, 2006 @ 9:15 am
in devil cat and jesus is fo' shizzle
. 6 Comments

Today people celebrate a holiday older than Christmas, and just as holy, and yet a whole bunch of non-secular conservative elitists want to ban this holiday. They want to take the Hell out of Halloween! Well, I for one won’t take it anymore. I’m going to forcibly interject my values and beliefs into every conversation I hear about the topic of Halloween. Yes, this may take every single last bit of fun out of the holiday, but it’s not even a real holiday when Satan isn’t involved in it.

Don’t let those anti-satanic America haters at your local church try to stop your Halloween celebration. You know they’re just going to call the ACLU and say we’re stamping all over their rights. Isn’t that always the way? You just know they turn to the ACLU any time they have any problems. All we want to do is force stores and schools to stop calling it a “Fall Holiday” and instead call it “Halloween”. We all know about how for years those PC fat cats have been telling each other to say things like “Trick or treat” instead of “Happy Halloween” and it’s because they want to slight our holiday. They don’t care about the religious nature, or the LONG history it has. They only care about forcing other people to accept their beliefs and the stark commercialism it espouses. Well I’ve had enough.

Today I’m going to say Happy Halloween, and I’m not going to feel bad about it. It’s other people people who should feel bad.

sherlock and wookie halloween

Sushi, Tom Cruise, Jesus, and Stephen Baldwin

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on October 9, 2006 @ 8:56 am
in atheism! and jesus is fo' shizzle
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Money quote: I’d like to give him a spicy Jesus roll.

In this article sent to me by my friend Jim, Stephen Baldwin proves that you don’t have to be smart to be Born Again.

Of the many things Stephen Baldwin doesn’t know, including the Seven Deadly Sins, what “sloth” means, the 12 disciples, and the Ten Commandments, he does know how to do a completely bonkers interview. At many points I wonder if he hasn’t been dipping into Daniel’s drugs.

Alec must dread every conversation he has to have with this guy.

Three hotels in three days

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on May 1, 2006 @ 8:00 am
in atheism!, food, jesus is fo' shizzle, travel and work
. 19 Comments

Misc. Hotel Stuff

Like you don’t take anything from your hotel rooms.

Junklet

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Anonymous Coworker
on April 11, 2006 @ 8:18 am
in Mrs. ACW, atheism!, food, happy hour, jesus is fo' shizzle and meta blogging
. 24 Comments

Well, I didn’t want to keep the Kansas post at the top, lest the two people in Kansas who use the internet harness a tornado, stuff it in a Fed-ex envelope, and weather-bomb my house. But I don’t really have any stories to tell or anything, so I figured I just throw some stuff out there.

1) This I straight copied from Broadsheet: Hey kids - come have some Rosemary / Garlic Fries, Resurrection Ale(s), Ozzie(s), and some laughs with Broadsheet on Tuesday. Or, just laugh at Broadsheet - she’s gettin old(er).

Grotto bar at Brewer’s Art. I’ll be there between 5:30 and 6:00 and hopefully we’ll be able to snag a table in the catacombs and hang out on a weeknight when it’s not too crowded.

If y’all come - it’ll be cozy. I think we can make the place ours if we want to.

ACWF and I will be there, proving that I actually have a fiance, and don’t just make out with an old sock every night. Oh yeah, you heard me right fellas, we make out every night.

2) Speaking of my tonsil-hockey partner, we were watching a show on A&E last night, and it was some sort of documentary about Satanism. At first I was pretty upset at the documentary, because it allowed rectal-spelunking psychologists and grump-dunking preachers to hold court over the topic. “Repressed memories” and “psychotherapy” were bandied about like they were any type of credible, and not a single person on the documentary stood up and said, “These retards are clearly retarded.” But then, at the end of the documentary, a professor of theology from a Chrisitan college essentially bitchslapped all the people who were using the Satanism fad of the late 70s to line their pockets and stuff their coffers with the cash of the idiotic people who bought into all the repressed memory crap and actually believed/lied to themselves into thinking that they had been raised in a Satanic cult. There was one baptist preacher, especially, who actually gave me chills, he was so fuckin’ crazy. He would keep his “flock” in “couseling” against “Satan” for up to 19 hours at a time, telling them what to think, telling them what had happened to them, feeding them “repressed memories” and then performing “excorcisms” on them. And I was thinking about it last night and this morning, and I really think that religion has the capacity to do as much evil as good. And I know that’s not exactly a news flash, but I think lots of members of most religions have been complicit in allowing the crazies to be the most vocal. Where are the reasonable religious folks to say, “Yes, we have a book that says the Earth is 5,000 years old, but science has mountains of evidence that suggests otherwise, but that doesn’t negate that Jesus had some pretty groovy ideas, so all you crazies just sit down, and shut up.” or “Yes, we know some of our fellow Muslims are engaged in a Holy War against the West, but our religion is a religion of peace, and love, and these assholes are screwing it up for us. I’m sure you Christians don’t want to be associated with the Christian child-beaters, Christian wife-rapists, and Christian clinic-bombers, just like we don’t want to be associated with the suicide-bombers and jihadis.”

So, I guess this is my long way of asking: Resonable religious folks, there’s a lot more of you than of the crazies. Why don’t you speak up more and call them on their bullshit?

3) There’s really not a third thing.

Fine, you can be an ambassador for my balls too

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on March 24, 2006 @ 8:56 am
in atheism!, bitches, jesus is fo' shizzle, sex, suhmuhmuh bitch and work
. 36 Comments

My office is in the process of hiring someone to fill a position in the tech department, and a resume just crossed my desk that was so special that I thought I would share a portion of it with you.

The “Career Goals” section at the top of the first page of the resume said, “To be an ambassador for Jesus Christ, and to obtain a position using the skills within my technical background.”

And to no one in particular I voiced aloud, “Are you completely retarded?”

First of all, I wasn’t aware that Jesus Christ was a country, much less a country that required an accredited representative in residence by one government or sovereign to another. I can see it now…

“Hey, let’s invade Poland this summer!”
“Nah, they’ve got an ambassador for Jesus Christ, and you know how they get when you mess with one of their allies.”
“Turn all our wine into water, and our models into lepers?”
“Exactly.”

While we’re on the topic, what are Jesus Christ’s main exports? I bet many of you would like to say “love for all humankind, puppy-dogs, rainbows, and bad-ass magic tricks” but in reality the exports of that country would be guilt, an encompassing derision of all things fun, a petrifying fear of masturbation, and child-molestation. The imports are cash, money, and wealth, and a soul or two if they have the time.

Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you, Jesus-preaching resume-guy? With regard to professionalism, you could have said that you wanted to be an ambassador for the “Cult of hanging raw shrimp off of your erect dong, filling your asshole with cocktail sauce, standing on your head, and saying you’re a seafood bar” and gotten the same result from me. (After I contemplated shrimp for lunch, that is.) It’s not professional, dipshit! What the fuck would posses you to put something so ragingly idiotic on your resume?

I bet I can guess. I bet it’s because your religion tells you to bother people all the time with sales pitches about your nonsensical, fairy-tale, imaginary friend in the sky and his promise of never-ending hookers and blow. (Hey, heaven is different for everybody.) And by the way, the only reason I’m hating on Jesus right now, is because a dumbshit follower of his decided it would be smart to ejaculate his beliefs all over his resume. I would be ripping some other fartsniffer for the same thing if they had said they wanted to be an ambassador for Thor, or Ganesh, or Superman. It’s not professional to wear your religion on your sleeve.

So, to dumb-dumb religion-resume-guy, here’s something you should consider before the next time you try to get your savior crammed into another public or private crevice: How would you feel if YOU got a resume saying that the applicant wanted to be an ambassador to Satan?

Right. You’d be pissed off, and you’d think it was inappropriate, and you wouldn’t want to hire them.

Now imagine, hypothetically, that Satan worship became the dominant religion in the United States. Imagine that all our money says, “Hail Satan” and the pledge is “One nation under Satan”. Would you be comfortable with that? Of course not.

So even though you like to pretend now that you’re really about Freedom of Speech and how those evil, secular, gnome-loving, homo-liberals are trying to indoctrinate your kids into becoming Cosmopolitan-drinking fashion-consultants/flag-burning abortionists, the real problem is that you only want free speech for yourself, and you want to be the one doing all the indoctrinating. If the shoe were on the other foot you’d be crying bloody murder because the Satanists next door won’t stop having their ten-hour orgies on the front lawn. So stop peddling your religious bullshit on your resume because it really makes you look like an idiot and an asshole.

…

By the way, not only am I going to throw out your resume because I’m sure that you would drive away customers with all of your Tiger Beat-esque Jesus-fawning, but I’m also going to trash your resume because you have the technical savvy of a brain-damaged hippopotamus who’s eaten paint-chips all his life, and has just come back from being lobotomized.

Kitty porn

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on March 15, 2006 @ 8:50 am
in Mrs. ACW, devil cat, jesus is fo' shizzle and potty humor
. 31 Comments

Well, we’ve had the new cat for about a week now, and things seem to be getting a little bit better. Sherlock has stopped his hissing and growling, and the new cat (Kitten, as we’ve taken to calling her) has stopped chopping off horse heads and putting them next to Sherlock while he sleeps. I thought it was weird too, but ACWF assured me it was normal feline behavior. I took her word for it, and then we went out to dinner with her huge Sicilian family.

Right now Sherlock and the Kitten have been sort of feeling out the house together. When Sherlock gets bored of following the Kitten around with his nose stuck up her butt (I always knew he was into coprophagia), he usually lets her wander without batting a single poop-encrusted whisker.

sherlock kitten

We’ve been trying to play with Sherlock all the more recently, so he doesn’t feel like he’s being replaced, but he hasn’t really been into it. He still chases jingle balls like a crackhead chases a dollar-bill caught in an updraft, but I can tell that his heart isn’t in it. Meanwhile, the Kitten has taken to setting up her “cathouse” in our living room. But not like you’re thinking, pervert. I meant a stable of whores with whom men can have sex for varying amounts of money.

kitten dainty

So far the funniest thing has been when Sherlock sees the Kitten doing something he normally does. Like when the Kitten is laying on the steps and staring at the wall for no reason, or when the Kitten decides to fling poop out of the litterbox and onto the floor. Sherlock looks at her quizzically with is head tilted to the side as if to say, “Hey! I like sitting in the window and mentally devouring every squirrel, bird, and Jehovah Witness that I see too!”

kitten stand

So I hope they start getting along soon, because I could really use the money I know I’ll make from taking pictures of them posing with one another in Anne Geddes-type baby-cherub costumes in front of Thomas Kinkade backgrounds and then selling them on QVC for 9 easy payments of $75.95. You know those retards will pretty much buy anything if it’s got an angel or the lobotomized stylings of of that douchebag Kinkade.

Dear Hollywood,

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Anonymous Coworker
on March 6, 2006 @ 9:06 am
in bitches, jesus is fo' shizzle, movies, music and suhmuhmuh bitch
. 27 Comments

First of all, thank you. Jon Stewart was great. If there was a man that I would hump to death purely for sport, it would be Jon Stewart, every time, no matter what the restraining order says. Second of all, thanks for keeping it short. I can only drink so many 1.5 liter bottles of wine before I start getting stabby and drunkenly weaving ACWF to the hospital for minor lacerations… again. Keeping it to just about 3 hours keeps me to about 750 ml of wine, and ACWF stab-wound free. Who says Hollywood isn’t looking out for the ladies?

But, seriously Hollywood. The Three 6 Mafia? Are you retarded? I understand that you’re all about “blackness” since you deigned to give Halle Berry and Jamie Foxx the first ever Best Actress and Best Actor awards respectively, but really, don’t try to play like you’re all about the hip-hop culture when it’s clear that you don’t know shit. You got your voting forms in the mail, you listened to the samples, you thought to yourself, “Well, this new jungle music sure is wiggedy-fly!” and then you voted for it because you’re an idiot.

Are you really trying to tell us that the uninspired, trite, repetitive, manufactured bullshit that you and the Three 6 Mafia passed off as original “music” can really qualify for a freakin’ OSCAR for Best Original Song? I don’t think they would have earned a Grammy for this song, and just about everybody has a Grammy. Hell, I have seven of them. Were you trying to be sarcastic? Maybe you were going for “Alanis” ironic and no one got it. Either way, as farcical as this award ceremony has become, not to mention how commercial (these Oscars brought to you by an orgiastic bevy of products that claim to make you hotter, thinner, and cooler), even the Three 6 Mafia were far beyond respectable levels of satire.

If you were shooting for satire, I think you’ve reached a level of satire where this award would be the same as Johnathan Swift doing a reading of A Modest Proposal while eating a LIVE IRISH BABY. You overshot your mark, Oscars, and you did it with the most volatile force of nature… hip-hop.

Have you any idea of what you’ve done? No, no, of course not. Well, let me tell you. Right now, all across the country, black youths are ignoring the Oscars. Why? Because it’s irrelevant to them. In 78 years you’ve allowed two [glancing in either direction as well as over my shoulder before whispering] Negroes [looking around nervously] to win some very special awards, so I hope you can see why they wouldn’t really be interested in your vast ocean of honkies.

At the same time, idiotic white children are logging on to iTunes RIGHT NOW and downloading Three 6 Mafia songs AT RANDOM! They don’t care if they get Gee Whiz It’s Difficult to Collect My Earnings as a Pimp, or I Krunked up My Jiggy-Cup Now Suckle On My Dingle-Dangle, or Hoes Can Be Like Niggas*, or Slob on my Knob (part II)*. TRL will be playing Three 6 Mafia within the week, and by this summer Three 6 Mafia will have a contract to write the next 2,000 jingles you see on TV or hear on the radio. Is that what you were really after white, Oscar-watching America? I don’t think so, or else you wouldn’t have been such bitches about Brokeback Mountain. Just let the fellas hump for chrissakes. Jesus doesn’t care. To be honest, he wishes you would stop bitching about a movie you haven’t even seen.

In conclusion, you stupid cracker-ass crackers, you did this to yourselves. You’ve had dozens of chances to profile some real, positive hip-hop throughout the years, but instead you chose the Three 6 Mafia. You chose a band who wrote a song titled Lick My (sic) Nutts*. Shame on you. I can’t wait for your own pale, jersey-attired, Fubu-wearing, cracker-ass, trailer-trash children to beat you to death. I hate you.

*Real titles of Three 6 Mafia songs. This is so depressing.

Last Weekend part 2

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on February 27, 2006 @ 7:30 am
in Mrs. ACW, atheism!, beer, bitches, food, jesus is fo' shizzle, potty humor, suhmuhmuh bitch and travel
. 17 Comments

Okay, so where did I leave off… oh yeah…

Lucky for us, it started to snow when we were driving to Ithaca and just as we were about to arrive in downtown Ithaca, Mokie’s car went into a skid!

…but he recovered quickly and the rest of the drive was uneventful. We found the Motel 6 without any trouble, and once we had paid for two hours of shower time, we all lumbered into the room.

We decided a showering order based on our average showering times, and with me clocking in just under a half-hour, I was going to be last to shower. So I went about the task of plugging in cell-phone chargers, the digital camera chargers, and the Lil’ Carny Taffy Pulling Machine that I take with me everywhere (only 6 payments of $199.99 and it fits in the trunk of most large SUVs!). I also used the opportunity to crank the heat up to 11 and turn the television on to rent us up some porno. King Kong Vs. the Vampire Slut Queen was only $39.95.

After our showers, and after having to answer WAY too many questions about why a vampire fighting an oversized gorilla would suddenly start in with the anal action in the middle of the fight, we left the comforts of the motel room and went across the street to the supermarket. We stocked up on necessities (booze, things to mix with booze, and water (for flushing poop)), grabbed a quick bite to eat, and were back on the road to Noelectricityville in the county of Jesuschristit’scoldoutsideburg, township Therearefreshpoopciclesinthetoilet.

On the way back we passed the Museum of the Earth so we decided to stop in and have a look. I was pretty impressed until I found out that they thought the world was billions of years old. I couldn’t find one single resource in the whole museum that had the accurate truth on it; that a team of omnipotent Superfriends (Jesus, his dad/self/God, and their/his spooky-buddy/self/dad) left behind puddles of Holy goo and then zapped it with their lightening-vision 5000 years ago to create the Garden of Eden.

After we burned the museum to the ground for being sacrilegious (but not before we got some sacreliscious Darwin Double-Chocolate Fudge from the Gift Shop) we got back on the road to the house. The aunt and uncle called to let us know they’d be up there soon, so we hauled ass in order to get some water into their toilets. We thought that would be a nice gesture after they’d let us use their house while they were away. A nicer gesture, at least, than them finding us drunk, unbathed, and with their toilets overflowing with two days worth of collected filth and vileness.

We were able to straighten, re-organize, and flush just about everything that was out of order before they arrived. We had been hoping that fate would have brought the power with them, but instead fate just brought a kerosene heater.

A kerosene heater!

We fired up that little tin cylinder of sweet, hot joy so quickly that if it had been a woman the heater would have slapped us for trying to get into her kerosene-fueled panties before even asking for a phone number. A warm, orange, glowing phone number of ice-melting proportions.

About five minutes later, the power came back on.

We were all happy, but no one was as happy as our ladies, both of whom struggled to use the bathroom as frequently as possible now that they could do so with reckless abandon, to the point that ACWF almost suffered an embolism after going for a bathroom-trip hat trick in under seven minutes.

We spent the rest of the weekend as we spend most weekends in New York, by drinking and going to wineries, and if my aunt and uncle hadn’t been so deathly ill, the second half of the weekend would have more than made up for the first half, but as it stands, the good evenly matched the bad, so all in all, I’d say it was an average weekend on the Fun-o-meter.

Speaking of the Fun-o-meter, right now it’s clocking about negative hojillion badillion. I hate to gripe, but it’s my blog, so you can shut the eff up and go check your myspace account if you don’t like it, but ACWF had some sort of illness on Friday and Saturday, and on Sunday I ate a dogy piece of bacon, and subsequently lost 8 pounds overnight. Anyone else interested in my new diet plan can send cash ACW care of ACW Super Duper Bacon Diet. You get one piece of bacon and a Hefty bag, so use them wisely.

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