Monday, April 28, 2008

Round Two

By Captain Adam Hoden:

I’d like to take the time now to thank you for voting. It turns out that both of the people who read this blog unanimously hate wolf art.

The Special Needs Group shall henceforth ban any discussion, depiction, or hyperlink to artwork featuring wolves.

This week, artwork featuring cats:

Verses the word ‘Sassy’

Artwork featuring cats has long been the realm of old ladies who have heretofore squandered their creative abilities, but still feel obligated to send quilts and pillows to their unsuspecting relations. These saccharin images must not be taken as gestures of love, but for what they really are: A reminder from Grandma that she is ripe for Death’s icy sickle, and you should call her more often.

The word sassy is an atrocious word that has been a disgusting, cancerous blight on the Queen’s English for too damned long. Users of the word ‘sassy’ should be culled from the respectable populous and processed as animal feed.

Vote wisely.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Down With Crap

From Jesus Miguel Hernandez:

Ladies, and to a greater extent, gentlemen, I am certain I have your support in my newest pursuit: the prohibition of things distasteful. I am nowhere near arrogant enough to believe that I am the ultimate authority on the subject of American Culture, and therefore; therefore, I introduce the very first interactive feature of our beloved Special Needs Blog.

From this point forward, there will be a one or two question survey—to be located somewhere on our page—asking you to identify the least savory of a list of absolutely insipid things. Voting will last begin on Monday and end on Friday. Over the weekend, I will tabulate the results, discard them, and choose the option that I find most offensive.

This week, Artwork featuring wolves:


Dream Catchers:

Both are horribly tacky wastes of otherwise innocent wall space that morons believe show a deep connection to their spirituality. Realisticly, they only show that you will spend your money on anything. In an amazing feat of poetic justice, Native Americans sell these mass-produced atrocities to stupid white people--who believe them to be art—at an absurdly inflated price. They then use their profits to build casinos and bilk even more white people out of even more money. This sort of incisive business sense is evidence that Indians are determined to take back their country—no matter how long it takes.

Choose wisely, friends.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Sports Fuck! Four

by Woody "Cricket Bat" Flavour

Editor's Note: As always, Mr. Flavour's comments do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of The Special Needs Group, its affiliates, site-managers, lackeys, sponsors, footmen, or parent company: Hernandez Latex Apparati. Know ye this: Woody be not a man, but a beast from the deep.

Here we go with another Sports Fuck...

Announcer: Ladies an gentleman of the press Mr. Johnson would now like to read a prepared statement.

Magic Johnson: Ladies and gentlemen, I have contracted AIDS. Which means that I had sex with a lady that had sex with a man, who had sex with a lady, who had sex with a man, who had sex with another man, who had sex with a monkey. Thank you.

We all remember that shadowy November eve in which Magic Johnson announced his having of AIDS to the people. And we all remember pumping our fists with joy. It was like Christmas buttfucked Mardi Gras and had an ass baby named "Finally Day."

I don't have anything against Magic, but AIDS happens to people that allegedly solicit prostitutes. Magic allegedly roamed the streets nightly trolling for disgusting whores. That guy allegedly couldn't get any without paying for it. He allegedly never wrapped his shit up when putting the shag to said whore ladies. Allegedly they all told him his wang was half the size of Wilt Chamberlains.

Monday, April 21, 2008

With Apologies to John Meyer

By Inches O’Toole

Apathy is working against me,
And apathy,
Wants to bring me down.

I sit here, knowing that I must write, but I just don’t give a damn.

My honored and dysfunctional associates all have prior obligations. Jesus Miguel Hernandez is currently busy gazing into a spring, and Captain Adam Hoden is off crying, and Woody Flavour is, of course, stone-fucking-dead. This leaves yours truly to pound out some sort of mildly entertaining article. Problem is: I just don’t feel like it.

Therefore, instead of giving you some clunker of a posting, here’s some more of Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie:

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Tell the Devil Cap'n Adam Says " 'Sup"

Captain Adam Hoden

We here at The Special Needs Blog would are sad to report the timely death of junior associate Woody (Cricket Bat) Flavour, who was released from years of painful existence early this morning.

Last night, Mr. Flavour was stumbling home from temple—thinking it was Friday—when he was attacked and sodomized by a roving pack of feral dachshunds. His body was then dragged into a culvert and eaten by several feisty javelinas. A homeless gentleman, known locally as ‘Crispy John,’ then gathered much of his skeleton to use as dice and various other hobo bric-a-brac.

The Special Needs Group would like to extend its sincerest condolences to Mr. Flavour’s family and friends. Though Cricket Bat can never truly be replaced, we will certainly try. I wonder if Francesco Marciuliano is available?

I Peed Next to That Guy!

From Cap'n Adam Hoden (via Youtube):

I stood next to him in a bathroom stall in Boise, Idaho. Stall was too high to compare junk, though.

Sports Fuck! (3)

by Woody "Cricketbat" Flavour

Editor's Note: As always, Mr. Flavour's comments do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of The Special Needs Group, its affiliates, lackeys, sponsors, footmen, or parent company: Hernandez Plus-Sized Feline Apparel.

It's been months now. It's been months and months and no one has said it. Apparently I'm going to have to be the guy.

Is it just me or did people make the Micheal Vick dog fighting thing a bigger deal then it should have been? I, being the sportsmaster general of the Special Needs Group, am a ginormous proponant of sports...sports like dogfighting. Just because Goodman Vick was able to do what all Americans secretly want to do, does that mean that he needs to be drugged(correct spelling?) through the mud of our shabbily fucked political system? Fuck no. Dogfighting, when conducted at the appropriate speed, can be a beautiful thing.

There's nothing more (or less, depending on what you like) American than sitting down with two or three or an arena full of your good buddies and watching some canines eat eachothers faces off. I can recall many summer nights with my two friends and the dogs we'd stolen from our neighbors and other folks around town. If we werent able to get the dogs to fight we'd end up killing them ourselves. Our hometown was quite dogless after a couple years worth of us stealing multiple dogs and forcing them to kill eachother. As soon as we'd ran out of stealable, fightable dogs it was time to ramble on to the next town to continue betting on the fighting of dogs procured from strangers.

There's nothing inherantly wrong with forcing animals to kill eachother. Frankly, if dogfighting is wrong and unlawful then basketball should be as well. Studies show that just as many dogs die each NBA game as they do durring your common, run of the mill, town center dogfighting championship.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's time to fucking riot in the streets and protest until we canget mister Vick out of negative public favor and crown him "World Dog Fighting Champion of the Universe." I myself have been renting billboards around town and fixing them to display images of Vick, in his Footballing atire, spiking a pitbull in the endzone of a football field. This is costing me quite a bit of money but it will be worth it in the long run if the citizenry will get behind this wonderful cause.

It's time to make a positive change in the world. FREE VICK!

Addendum to Editor’s Note: For-the-love-of-God, please do not confuse Mr. Flavour’s opinions with those of any of the honored associates of The Special Needs Group; or those of any lucid, cogent human-being. He will be severely horsewhipped by the Special Needs Enforcers; who, I assure you, are burly and sadistic dog-lovers.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Oh, Deer

By Jesus Miguel Hernandez

I sat at my keyboard today, expecting to write a pithy article about the human consumption of dog meat. As I was researching the topic, however, I somehow ended up reading about—well, something else.

In 2001, Dr. Peter Singer, the Ira W. DeCamp Professor of Bioethics at Princeton University, wrote a review of Dutch biologist Midas Dekkers’s book Dearest Pet: On Bestiality. In his review, Professor Singer makes the argument that inter-species sex does not diminish a person’s humanity or the dignity of the human species as a whole, and cites several historical examples of bestiality.

The honored associates of The Special Needs Group support almost any brand of perversion that you can name—Captain Hoden even tells me he once caught Inches O’Toole porking a watermelon. We are unanimously opposed, however, to copulation with non-human animals.

There are two very important factors I considered in my decision to condemn such acts. First, I don’t want there to be any sexual tension between me and Fido. When my dog lays her big, slobbering head on my lap, I don't want to get aroused.

Secondly, prostitution, though illegal in most jurisdictions, is relatively cheap and readily available. If you ever feel so desperate that cattle become alluring, just spend ten bucks for a quick yank in an alley.

Tomorrow, I discuss why Appetite for Destruction, was better than Use Your Illusion.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Bibere humanum est, ergo bibamus!

By Shamus “Inches” O’Toole

Gentlemen around the world, I am pleased to announce that the mysterious and venerable Brotherhood of Gentlemen Alcoholics is accepting new members. The Brotherhood of Gentlemen Alcoholics exists to ensure that for our posterity, booze tastes like booze, bars smell like smoke, and there is always a healthy selection of ZZ-Top in the jukebox.

We are a proud few who believe the era of time-honored ‘men’s’ drinks if far from over. We believe that if you are a man who walks into a bar and orders anything fruit-flavored, you should be beaten unconscious for your own good.

If you wish to join, you must be:

  1. At least 18 years old.
  2. A gentleman.
  3. Able to drink scotch whiskey without making a face.

You must have never:

  1. Ordered an apple-tini (unless you are an homosexual).
  2. Asked anyone in a bar to stop smoking, EVER!
You may submit your application to the broken looking man on the last barstool at any local tavern. Good fortune, brothers, and as always, bibamus, moriendum est!

Friday, April 11, 2008

For Godsakes, I’m Sorry!

By Captain Adam Hoden

Never disparage a beloved cartoon character.

Today, I was accosted by a large lady—henceforth referred to as The Columnist-Eating Woman—wearing an ancient and stained Snoopy sweater. She vigorously reminded me that Rerun Van Pelt is indeed a well-known and much-loved member of the Peanuts gang.

The policy of The Special Needs Group, as spelled out in our charter (§ 147, ¶ 6), is to never print corrections unless under threat of firing squad, lynch mob, or civil law suit. However, after much prompting from The Columnist-Eating Woman, we will make an exception.

The Official Peanuts Web Site says the following about our beloved Rerun:

Rerun Van Pelt is often mistaken for Linus, even though he's his little brother. He can always be recognized in his trademark overalls. Rerun is more skeptical than his brother, much harder to convince, and always gets around Lucy where Linus gives in. His only fear is being the passenger on one of his mother's bicycle-riding errands. Somehow, Rerun is the only witness to her riding into grates and potholes. Luckily, he always wears a helmet. Rerun also longs for a dog of his own, but since his parents won't let him have one, he tries to "borrow" Snoopy from Charlie Brown. Snoopy won't have any part of it unless Rerun brings cookies.

Assuming that The Columnist-Eating Woman does not know where I live, I promise this will be the final posting concerning a comic strip. God, I need a drink.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Wasn't He on "What's Happening?"

By Captain Adam Hoden

Being insecure, I often take internet based tests to confirm things that I already know about my own personality. Today, I stumbled across the “Which Peanuts Character are You?” quiz at I answered the six questions that comprised the test, and this appeared on my screen:

It seems pretty accurate, although I’m not charming. I do have one question, though: Who the hell is Rerun? I know Charlie Brown, and Snoopy, Woodstock, Linus, Lucy, Pigpen, the Patties—both Peppermint and otherwise, Marcie, and Sally; but I have never heard of Rerun. I wasn’t even able to find an entry for him on Wikipedia.

While searching for Rerun on Google, however, I did find a clip from that awesome episode of What's Happening? where The Doobie Brothers show up for some reason!

Sports Fuck! Deuce!

by Woody "Cricket Bat" Flavour

Here it is for your sportsing pleasure: my first real Sports Fuck! entry.

Really, what's the deal with Tiger Woods? You know what I mean. Strutting around like he plays golf or something. What's all that about?

And another thing, what's Muggsy Bogues been up to? Probably no good....probably. Probably has a bad case of short man syndrome...probably. Probably walks around all day spitting in the food of those dining on many a restaurant patio...probably.

You guys see rumble in the jungle? Foreman must be watching Ali right now and be saying to himself "That guy beat me? That shakey fuck?"

Editor's Note: Mr. Flavour's comments do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of The Special Needs Group, its affiliates, sponsors, or parent company: Hernandez Heavy Industries, Inc.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

An Open Letter to the English-Speaking World

From The Special Needs Group

Dear English Speakers,

For the love of god, please stop misusing the word ‘literally.’

I would like to share with you a quote from Pennsylvania
Governor Ed Rendell:

"The first two months of this campaign, January and February, it was absolutely reprehensible what the media did. Senator Obama literally walked on water."

We submit that it would, in fact, be absolutely reprehensible for the media not to report Sen. Obama literally walking on water. If Barack Obama stepped onto the surface of body of liquid water and did not sink, this is something that the public needs to be aware of.

If we may be so bold, we would like to suggest that perhaps the Governor meant to say Sen. Obama figuratively walked on water. It is possible, though seemingly unlikely, that the Gov. Rendell was using the word in an ironic way, in which case the fault lies with the reporting party for not using the appropriate accentuation.

Not to unfairly target Gov. Rendell, the misuse of the word ‘literately’ is a FIGURATIVE epidemic in today’s culture. It is said casually by public figures far too often. Therefore, we beg the English-speaking world to help us to retard this overuse of a once great word.

Thank You,

The Special Needs Group

Welcome Cricket Bat Flavour

By Inches O’Toole

We are delighted here at The Special Needs blog to welcome a new contributor to our fellowship. Woody (Cricket Bat) Flavour is a respected and revered football hooligan from The Continent.

While I shall leave it up to Goodman Flavour to submit a more detailed history, I would like to briefly describe his credentials for you. Woody (Cricket Bat) Flavour—aka Thomas “Big Toe” Henderson, aka Stubbs Johnson, aka Elliot “Rice Cake” Hancock, aka Popper Martini, aka Dr. Jonas Mitchell—has had more disorderly conduct arrests than all three of our regular contributors combined.

I first met Cricket Bat Flavour when he was the events coordinator at Lansdowne Road in February of ’95. Since then we have been incarcerated together twice.

There will be very little change in the production and presentation of The Special Needs Blog. I shall continue to bring you news pertaining to my specialties—alcohol, Consumption, the consumption of alcohol, tennis, Ireland, and the campaign to bring back Surge. My honored associate Captain Adam Hoden will continue being a nerd, and Jesus Miguel Hernandez will still refuse to answer any questions about his citizenship.

So please join us in welcoming our new junior associate and sports columnist Woody (Cricket Bat) Flavour.

Monday, April 7, 2008

Sports Fuck!

by Woody "Cricket Bat" Flavour

No, I'm not one of the usual suspects (Inches O' Toole) nor do I claim any esteem. I do however, get in fights at soccer (football[soccer]) matches. Yes, I have been commisioned (commission pending) to tabulate the occasional sports column for the Special Needs boys.

My knowings of sports is vast. And by vast I mean I constantly have ESPN Classic on in the background while I'm playing Russian Roulette by myself 15 minutes a day for the rest of my life (oh how the caged bird does sing!). I've been in football(soccer[football]) fights on several continents. I've brawled at Maine Road in Manchester, England before it was torn down in 2004. I head butted a transvestite at Estádio do Morumbi in Sao Palo Brazil. I even streaked across the field in Estadio Azteca in Mexico City. Yes, I've been well involved in sports, but not nearly as involved as I'm going to be. So don't try to tell me I've never even heard of soccer(football[fuck you])!!!

Since I've taken up alot of space so far with giving you the details of my ableness to produce sportslike talks, I will make my post brief.

Lets see...whats going on in the wild world of sports today....I guess Chuck Heston died...that's kinda weird.

Thursday, April 3, 2008

Argumentum Ad Hominem

By Captain Adam Hoden

I was wandering around the annals of a popular social site today. I noticed that the comments left on a friend’s profile were a little bland, and so, in the interest of interest, I posted the following:

Dear Sir,

It seems that you have been treated too well by your posting several. Please allow me to correct this oversight.

You are an absurd, bastard-sucking lowlife with all of the wherewithal of an incontinent mental patient. You spout clichés with carless abandon while having little or no idea of their meaning; though your fans may lavish praise upon you, they obviously have very little taste.

You weep effluent from every pore. Your every action causes perturbation and strife; you should be lanced and drained off the buttock of civilization. It is no stretch of truth to call you the worst human who has ever lived. I speak without hyperbole when I say that you, sir, are shit.

Hoping you are well,

Captain Adam Hoden

P.S. Hope to see you soon for tea.

Dictated but not read.

Delicious Tropical Party

From Inches O'Toole

Awkward Picture's take on a conversation I've had recently.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

A Triumvirate Screaming in Silence

By Jesus Miguel Hernandez

My honored associate, The Good Captain Adam Chelsea Hoden, has temporarily lost his voice in a tragic bulimia accident. As an act of solidarity, I shall—from this moment until Captain Hoden’s voice returns, in triumph, to its time-honored domicile—become mute.

Those of you who have read to the nomen of my declaration may ask “But what of Goodman O’Toole? Will he become silent as well?” Well, my friends, he has already fallen silent. By an astounding coincidence, our honored associate was, just last night, struck repeatedly about his larynx by an angry school girls’ tennis team. The resulting swelling has rendered him mercifully dumb—and left him with several humorous racket shaped bruises.

Though we shall still take joy in Screaming into the Void, for the next day or two, we shall be doing so silently.