H.A.M. of the Day for September 22, 2010

This cat needs to shut the fuck up.

Cat, obviously the other cat doesn't want you. Be a brave pussy and move on.

Do you understand, cat?

There's plenty of snatch in the batch worth the catch, in terms as distracting as a felt mouse at the end of a string.

What you need to do is scratch up the other cat's tires and spread the rumor that your ex-cat-lover has feline AIDS.

That way, he won't have a way to get to the vet for its shots and it will mostly likely go feral, and ain't no cat ever gonna give it any cat-loving ever again.

Cat, there is no use in making an ass out of yourself in public in an attempt to redeem a relationship that has obviously gone bust, with another cat who obviously does not care, a cat who would make you resort to crazy public antics at the cost of your self-respect. All of it. All the people of Walmart probably stood around and watched this sorry ass display. Didn't they? Are you proud of that? Huh? They filmed you with their discount camera.

Cat, you were once the inspiration of Egyptian kings and queens. Now you are just fodder for hackneyed artists designing for middle-America bungalows strewn with ceramic kitties and mugs with the phrase 'catitude,' horrific houses belonging to families who spend their time youtube-ing cat porn for entertainment.

Cat, a sorry ass cat-lover is the least of your troubles, you are one hot ass mess.

Fan Mail

Fan:

"One Wise Ass Latino, where do you get your sharp tongue? Whenever I try to sass someone, it always comes out flat? Do you write comedy or something?"

Me:

You dumb fuck, I get it from having to suffer through dumb ass questions like yours. The world is filled with idiots and idiocy, I seem to be the only one paying attention. I always say to my fellow latinos, if you are not one wise ass latino, then you sure as hell ain't paying attention.

Open your eyes, you sycophantic wretch, plenty of material to get upset about all around you. And don't just give it a passing glance, let the idiocy marinate into your core, grind it up against your marrow like salt on a wound, and if that shit don't make you wanna lash out with your tongue, then just sit the fuck down and leave it to a pro.

Hey reader, I have a question for you:

Can I have some other fans, please?

Riddle me that.

Gaily News for September 22, 2010 - The daily news translated for gay people.

Sometimes, I think, the Japanese are better than us.

grl, Move to End ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ Stalls in Senate (Gay people! The Army is not a discotheque, says the Senate, Go Party elsewhere.)
By DAVID M. HERSZENHORN
The Senate voted not to proceed with debate of the annual authorization of military spending that included a provision allowing the repeal of the policy on gay soldiers.


Summers Move Lets Obama Alter Economic Team (grl, America is changing its economic portfolio, time to bring this economy to the next level, biatch!)
By SHERYL GAY STOLBERG
The departure of Lawrence H. Summers, the top White House economic adviser, allows President Obama to reshape his economics team after the midterm elections, when Republicans are expected to gain strength.

grl, An Egg Farmer and a History of Salmonella (grl, Don't be putting anyone's eggs in your mouth, you could catch something.)
By WILLIAM NEUMAN
Farms tied to one of the country’s biggest egg producers were a source of Salmonella enteritidis in the United States in the 1980s and again recently.

grl, Seeking Kashmir Peace, India Feels Anger of Residents (grl, Between all the strife up in the Middle East and in India, extremists are fucking up what could be awesome vacation spots.)
By JIM YARDLEY
After more than 100 days of deadly protests in Kashmir, India this week sent the equivalent of a peace delegation.

grl, Step Right Up for Pest Control at Bedbug Meeting (grl, What if someone you hook up with has bedbugs?!)
By MONICA DAVEY
More than 360 people, with quite a few inventors among them, gathered in Illinois for a conference about the pests.

grl, Stores Scramble to Accommodate Budget Shoppers (grl, I praise Jehovah everyday for discount stores, but I'd slay a bitch dead if they ever told anyone that my glasses ain't really Gucci.)
By STEPHANIE CLIFFORD
Dollar stores, embracing strategies they learned during the recession, have seen a spike in business.

I Apologize

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Fan Mail

So, I've decided to start posting some fan mail... :)

Take the missive titled, "huge fans. request.," from an adoring bitch ass below:

"I think your blog is hilarious and I always enjoy “reading” the meaning of the words. However, I never enjoy the process of actually reading your blog, because the background color to font ratio in the post frames are a complete serving of failsauce. To decipher the words I need to highlight the entire post - this is annoying. Further, I do not want to send your blog to my friends, lest their eyesight worsens from the strain and I get sued.


Take the GAILY NEWS, for instance: the links! So fantastic I can actually read them, the (what I assume is riveting) commentary on them however? Totally camouflaged like the rest of the page. Bitch Ass Minion and Bitch Ass Minion #2 agree with me. This is our request: all we are asking is a font color that is a few shades lighter or a background that is a few shades darker."

Apparently, my blog has made you feel bad about your illiteracy. ...And, this is my problem because...

Your dumb ass needs to call your local public education system and scream on them for teaching you nothing past how to clip coupons and how to give a handjob good enough to convince your local crack-slinger to accept your macaroni and cheese coupon for a discount on your crack. Guess what? You lose, in any situation. Because crack is whack.

Alright, Hellen Keller, you blind ass bitch, I will change the font color. Doesn't mean I will like it... Doesn't mean I will do it anytime soon...

Deal. With. It.

And fuck you to your minions too. I omitted their names, but trust, I will find your addresses.

Thanks for reading. Thankfully people have nothing to do with their lives other than read this fucking blog.

Lord help us all. Go read some real news.

This songs for you:

One White Person I Would Not Let Babysit My Children

Admittedly, this woman is amazing, and she would probably be someone that I would love to know, especially on a Monday morning, at the office, when retelling stories from the weekend over the water cooler. Oh, the places she would take my imagination. She is engaging, she uses sound effects, and she even says things like, "Cuz my daddy taught me good," which is a lie, at best, cuz she probably spawned out of a festering pustule on a frog's back.

Drag queens take note. Glamour-dram is not the only arresting form of performance for a lady-boy in a dress.

However so much I love her, she would scare the shit out of my children. Put a flashlight on the woman's chin and what you've got is a crypt-keeper.

This woman is not allowed to babysit my children because she would probably make them build a gingerbread house in which she would imprison them for the sole purpose of frightening them at will with her terrifying stories, and to have a place to store her flying brooms.

My children are not little Mexicans. If you have them build you a house, you will pay them fair wages!

Lady, you are done. The neighborhood watch has been alerted.

See you Monday.

H.A.M. of the Day for September 11, 2010

Jesus fucking christ. Parents! Caution! Do not let your children see this speech, unless you are willing to spend a shitload of money on therapy to stop your kid's night screams.

Republicans have seen the people's Howard Dean and raised us a Phil Davidson. Today's hot ass mess comes from Stark County, Ohio whose citizens were terrified by the treasurer candidate's teeth-grinding, bile-spitting, foamy-mouthed speech. He did not get the primary nomination. However, it was a performance that would make Mel Gibson proud. I kind of fell in love with you too... The way that you grabbed that podium... The way you screeched, as if into the void, boldly, fearlessly... You wanted answers. Yes, indeed, you did get a master's degree in communications. The world has a right to know. The way you stomped, around the podium and into the wings of the stage, teetering over the front row of a roomful of imaginary friends... I am sure you made the room shake, people scurried... Humanity has not seen manhood such as yours since the neolithic era. Growl! What a man!

And getting in good with Mel is just about as good as getting in with God. By your side is where I wanna be!

Oh, and, Congrats Mel, you were in need of a friend after all.

Phil, we hope that your knuckle-dragging descent from the podium is not the last we see of you. There is great potential for you...perhaps as a cautionary tale for would-be republican children.

You are the catalyst for change that America so desperately needs. And I, as your first wife, I can make it happen.

I strongly advise democratic candidates to simply play this speech on their stumping tours with a small introductory caveat: "This is a republican. Not on drugs. Vote for me because I will not eat your children."

Fear works.

And reader, if as I believe, you suffer from a critically small attention span, here is Dean to remind you of what once was: