Tuesday, October 16, 2012

My Advice to Barak Obama

From Jesus Miguel Hernandez

The President didn't do well in his first debate with Mitt Romney, but with my help, I believe he can expect a solid victory if he just remembers that presentation is everything.  Here are my suggestions, given "free" of charge.

  • Republicans are scared of black people.  Use it to your advantage.
    • Walk on stage shirtless, sporting a chest tattoo of that picture of dead Bin Laden that everybody's been demanding; below that, thirteen unexplained tally marks.
    • Wear bloody sports tape over your knuckles.  Is it cow blood or human blood? Doesn't matter, nobody's going to ask.
  • First impressions are key.
    • No matter what the first question is, this will be your answer:
The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy My brothers. AND YOU WILL KNOW MY NAME IS THE LORD WHEN I LAY MY VENGEANCE UPON THEE!  

  •  A President is only as good as his advisors.
    • Joe Biden redeemed himself at the last debate.  According to article thirteen of the Bruce Campbell Accords, he is now a badass.  Dismiss your Secret Service detail, and replace them with Joe Biden dressed like this:

Now get your ass out there and win this thing.

Monday, October 1, 2012

Clearly She Is a Witch and Must Be Put to Death

From Cap'n Adam Hoden

Have you ever picked up a guitar and started strumming idly?  Then, maybe without you even realizing it, you start to play a familiar riff?  If you're like me, you might have realized that you were playing something you've heard before, and start trying to figure out what it is you're playing.

Perhaps you're the obsessive sort, like me, and so the closer you get to the tune you remember, the harder and harder you try until you've spent the last hour and a half playing the same riff over and over again, and that your fingers are now so sore that it feels like you're typing on sharp, hot coals.

Then, as if by delivered from on high by the vengeful Creator Himself, the realization hits you that you are not, in fact, playing a forgotten favorite from your youth, but rather a 14-second TV jingle that hasn't played on TV since 1990!

Well, dear reader, I have.

Fuck you, Clorox 2.

 Fuck you.