As we reach our 1,000th post, which is a slow morning for most bloggers, it’s time to look back at those items that resonated with you, the Afflictor readers. You can pretty much throw out the first 500 posts–they were god-awful and I’m embarrassed of them all. The next 250 entries showed slight improvement. And the most recent 250 posts were largely about monkeys using cocaine. These were spectacular. Here is a countdown of what the data tells us are the ten most popular posts in the history of the idiotic site known as Afflictor.
Worried that someone somewhere in the world wasn’t paying attention only to her, Lady Gaga climbed down from the stands at Sunday’s Yankee game and urinated on home plate just before the start of the sixth inning. Taking off her clothes, grabbing her private parts and making obscene gestures in the luxury boxes for the game’s first two hours helped her make a spectacle of herself, but it wasn’t until she had downed a few large beers that Gaga was ready to unleash the piece de resistance. Imitating the squatting style of the late catcher Elston Howard, the New York-born singer gave the capacity crowd an amazing show.
“Wow, she’s a great entertainer,” said Yankee fan Phil Vacco, 21, of Bay Ridge. “That’s why I live in New York. To see big stars behave like filthy hobos.”
Lady Gaga has enjoyed a meteoric rise over the past year, going from completely unknown to completely boring in record time. Now totally overexposed, she’s burned through Madonna’s whole tired act in a matter of months.
“My fans are everything to me, and I would die for them,” Gaga said, pulling up her torn underwear after she was finished taking a leak.
Then she headed to Monument Park where she set fire to a statue of Lou Gehrig and performed public sex acts with old timer Joe Pepitone.
Lindsay doesn’t know she’s in jail, so you probably shouldn’t mention it to her if you happen to wind up in the cell next to hers. She just thinks she’s in a very bad airport, like, the worst one she’s ever been in. Her lawyers didn’t want to bum her out, so they didn’t really tell her the whole truth and stuff. Maybe they should have.
Lindsay thinks the plane must be very delayed. Perhaps there was a bad storm or something. And to make matters worse, this crappy airport has no magazine stand where she can buy an Us Weekly and a Red Bull. It’s odd that all the Passenger Service Agents have guns and handcuffs and the Ground Crew gives her strip searches, but in this age of terrorism, you can’t be too careful.
Lindsay thinks it’s good of the airline to give her free food and a place to sleep while she waits for her plane, but the meals and accommodations are pretty subpar. She hopes the plane will get here soon because waiting around is such a drag. Lindsay isn’t sure where the plane she’s waiting for is going, but she hopes it’s someplace really cool. Maybe she’ll be making a movie there or hosting a party or something.
Sometimes Lindsay wishes she could fly without an airplane. Then she wouldn’t have to wait around for anyone. She would just flap her arms and soar into the sky where everything is quiet and peaceful and blue. There would be birds to talk to and she could get close enough to the rainbows to touch them. And it would be just completely great and make her really happy if all the clouds she flew into were made of marshmallows and vanilla ice cream and crystal meth.
Because every antisocial, opportunistic cretin contributing nothing to society feels compelled to run for Mayor of Wasilla, Snooki has just announced she’s throwing her snatch into the ring.
Snooki has an unusual platform that has nothing to do with improving Wasilla’s primary school education or eldercare services. She plans to woo voters by giving a blowjob in public to a giraffe shipped in from the Alaska Zoo. It might sound strange, but there’s a method to her madness. Wasilla is a hardscrabble town that could use a great mayor to help it cope with the many social problems it’s facing, but short of that the locals need someone to make them feel better about themselves. Snooki blowing a giraffe will achieve that latter goal because it will enable the citizens of Wasilla to feel superior, since they won’t be the ones who’ll have giraffe semen in their mouths. Even though no one asked her to, Snooki has even volunteered to swallow the quadruped ejaculate. People are willing to give her handkerchiefs to spit into, but she won’t hear of it.
For his part, Levi isn’t giving up without a battle. He’s agreed to finger the house pets (dogs, cats, ferrets, etc.) of any MILF who is willing to throw her vote his way. He has, however, asserted that he will not use his tongue on them. That could hurt him with swing voters, but no one will know for sure until Election Day. The one thing we do know for certain is the people who are considering creating a reality show that has Levi running a sham campaign for mayor of Wasilla are college graduates who should definitely know better. But they care nothing for the welfare of the people in the small Alaskan town.
MTV and its parent company Viacom are being very supportive of Snooki’s mayoral aspirations, because they’re not multi-billion dollar corporations just using the Jersey Shore cast members to make large sums of money before discarding them like trash. People might think that’s what’s happening, but it’s totally not. For instance, if one of the Jersey Shore kids should contract HIV from one of the drunken hook-ups that MTV and its parent company Viacom enables and encourages, the network will no doubt be there for them.
And MTV and and its parent company Viacom have a sense of responsibility that goes far beyond just the cast, extending to the millions of young viewers who may emulate the disgusting behavior displayed on the show. The program is popular with a very young demographic, and let’s face it, not all of those tweens and young teens who watch have great parental guidance. Should the show inspire some of them to behave promiscuously and get an STD, maybe even AIDS, the corporations will definitely intercede and help them emotionally and financially, especially if they need expensive hospice care. Anything less would be incredibly negligent.
It’s not easy for executives at MTV and Viacom these days because they all keep having the same recurring nightmare. It goes something like this: After cashing their paychecks for Season 3, the Jersey Shore cast members realize they’re going to be replaced by cheaper dummies the following year anyhow, so they decide to not put their health at risk for what is actually a small amount of money. They all conspire to give up drinking and behaving like pigs and instead go to libraries and do charity work for people in need. MTV and Viacom execs all wake up in a panic just as the kids become good citizens.
The NFL Rules Committee recently met and have made some changes to modernize America’s favorite sport and make it even more reprehensible. Commissioner Roger Goodell was tired of reprimanding everyone in football anyhow, so he decided to say fuck the rules to reduce the number of player suspensions and fan arrests. Dogfighting, gun and drug possession, beating up strippers, ticket holders behaving like boxcar hobos and players experiencing brain damage is just the beginning. Shit’s gonna get effed up, people!
For one thing, kidnapping is now legal. If the other team has a player who’s really making it difficult for your team to win the game, your guys can get some guns and rope and kidnap that player from the opposing sidelines. Then they can have that player beg for mercy before the cameras to psyche out the other team. Fans will not only be able to bet money they don’t have on game outcomes but also on which players will emerge from their kidnappings alive.
Players will no longer wear helmets. They’re getting brain damaged already anyhow, but it’s happening in a way that’s subtle, gradual and not entertaining. Now they’ll be a chance to literally see some of the damaged brains, should they ooze from a player’s gashed, bloody head. CT scans of the injured skulls will be taken as soon as players are carted off the field, and the head X-rays will be displayed on the scoreboard along with other stats.
Officials will be required to carry firearms, though they will only be able to use them to murder players at non-skill positions. If an official accidentally kills a quarterback or running back, he in turn will also be murdered. These executions will occur at mid-field via lethal injection, which will be administered by the referee the condemned official was least friendly with. Announcers will be encouraged to use profanities and talk trash about former announcers who have recently passed away. Those losers were weak and cowardly and their grieving families should know.
Only fans have been able to get disgustingly drunk during games in the past, but players will now be permitted to drink booze and smoke weed on the sidelines. The liquor they drink will, however, have to be made by an NFL sponsor. It’s a great way to raise revenue through product placement. Cheerleaders are being replaced by prostitutes, who will provide players and coaches with blowjobs and quickies at halftime. Fans will likewise be permitted to have sex in the stands between halves, but they will have to bring their own prostitutes or purchase prostitutes from the concession stand. Fans who have grown too obese to perform sexually will be able to watch a porno on the Jumbotron so that they can remember what arousal felt like.
The NFL will be much more interactive since fans will help determine when games are over. The 60-minute playing time will no longer be observed. Games will continue until 100 players and/or spectators have died from cardiac arrest or alcohol poisoning. The team with the most points at that juncture will win, and the deceased will be buried in a mass grave beneath the 30-yard line before carrion can have at them.
Are you ready for some football?
Larry King: We have a Tweeter question for Lady Gaga that was Twitted to us.
Decoder: I think my pocket calculator just exploded.
Lady Gaga: I am good friends with Deepak Chopra who I speak to a lot about my dreams. And he seems to think it’s nothing really to worry about. He tells me that I’m very creative and I should learn to embrace my insanity and not worry so much because I always call him and say, Deepak, I had this most horrible, morbid dream. What does it all mean? And he says you’re just very creative. Put it on stage.
Decoder: Deepak Chopra is getting a new unlisted number.
Lady Gaga: I probably should take a break and go on vacation. But I’d rather die on stage, not under a palm tree.
Decoder: Talking to you, Larry, makes me fixate on death.
Lady Gaga: I hope when I’m dead I’ll be considered an icon.
Decoder: You are like a walking casket, Larry. You fill me with thoughts of mortality. I can see your breath when you speak.
Larry King: Is there any boundary you won’t cross?
Decoder: Would you, for instance, be open to being the fourteenth wife of a desiccated talk-show host?
Lady Gaga: So much of what I do is hinged on show business. I believe so much in it–people ask me, what do you dress like when you’re alone? Do you ever just wear sweatpants or whatever they say. And I’m thinking that they–the concept of show business is lost. Michael Jackson, when he was being wheeled out of the ambulance when he was burned, he held his glitter glove up high above his head to was to his fans, because he was show business.
Decoder: More than anyone else, Michael Jackson needed to throw on some sweatpants and not be a freak for five minutes. He’s a terrible role model for anyone in or out of show business.
Lady Gaga: I’m very religious. I was raised Catholic. I believe in Jesus. I believe in God. I’m very spiritual. I pray very much.
Decoder: I pray that you won’t touch me with your bony fingers, Larry.
Larry King: Lady Gaga has a special relationship with her fans.
Decoder: My fans, however, have all died from natural causes, as have their children.
Something really bad was happening to the environment recently, but then Snooki crapped her pants. She’s the best! It happened either on a boardwalk or in a parking garage–there are conflicting reports. It wasn’t an accident if that’s what you’re thinking. Snooki can control her bowel movements; she just chose not to. Having been rewarded handsomely for sub-literate, antisocial behavior, she feels like she needs to constantly up the ante. And anyhow the bathroom was about 40 feet away, so why not just use her clothes as a toilet and do something to entertain her many fans.
According to eyewitness accounts, Snooki had downed some booze and a veal parm a few hours earlier and felt she needed to evacuate her intestines, so that she could be light on her feet during a planned broken beer bottle fight with another woman. Despite her diminutive size, Snooki craps like a herd of alpacas. Her thong couldn’t catch the poop, and it oozed out onto the ground. The Smithsonian has called about it; they’d like to acquire the stool and permanently keep it floating in one of the museum’s toilets. It’s just like when they acquired Fonzie’s leather jacket if Fonzie’s leather jacket had been made of feces.
Everyone has been tweeting about Snooki dropping a deuce in her pants and fans are making a pilgrimage to the Jersey Shore to see it for themselves. The dung has been roped off to protect it from being stolen, but the masses can get close enough so that they can take photos in front of it.
People who watch her TV show claim to like Snooki, but it’s unlikely they would ever want to trade places with her. It seems they just enjoy laughing at someone who makes them feel superior. But what kind of message does that send to children who might think they can thrive by acting like pigs rather than developing their minds. Democracy can’t survive without an informed citizenry and …oh wait, The Situation just pissed himself! There are conflicting reports, but it happened either on a bar stool or in a bowling alley. He’s the best!
It’s been reported elsewhere that the Michael Scott character is exiting from The Office at the end of next season, but we’ve learned exclusively that his departure will be as the result of a particularly brutal murder. The shocking crime is to occur at the hands of Meredith, Dunder-Mifflin’s troubled Supplier Relations representative, whose deeply rooted personal problems have long been a source of mirth.
In the episode, Michael will be collecting his personal effects at approximately five in the afternoon, preparing to head home to his condo after another day at the Scranton branch when he is accosted by a knife-wielding Meredith, who is no longer able to cover up her pain with alcoholism and promiscuity. Having felt the sting once too often of Michael’s cruel taunts about her physical unattractiveness, Meredith lunges at him and can’t stop stabbing until her mania subsides minutes later. The warehouse guys have their hands full trying to clean up the mess.
Although Pennsylvania maintains the death penalty, very few murderers are executed, so it’s possible Meredith will escape lethal injection. She had displayed the type of aberrant behavior in regards to alcohol and sex that people engage in to try to mollify acute suffering. This pattern of behavior most likely resulted from some trauma or abuse that occurred in childhood, and no one should have been making light of it.
In a subplot, smirking prankster Jim decides to use the situation to irk thick-headed rival Dwight, placing Michael’s decapitated head on his desk and challenging his co-worker to defeat it in a staring contest. “Fact,” says Dwight, “If you put pennies on my eyes, I will simply blink and knock them off whereas a disembodied head will not be able to do so.” Dwight eventually takes the bait, but office tight-ass Angela becomes irritated with Jim, telling him that “it’s hard enough working here after the slaying and you keep making it harder.” That’s what she said.
Coming off the ratings bonanza of Lebron James’ The Decision show, in which he revealed which NBA team he would play for next, ESPN has greenlighted the latest program idea from Camp Lebron, a show that has the newest member of the Miami Heat discussing his pecker. While James’ ego was somewhat satisfied by the non-stop attention from journalists and billionaire team owners and his ability to talk about his “talents” in front of millions of people, there was precious little time left for him to discuss his pecker. James is hoping the new show will remedy that oversight and help his pecker build a global brand.
ESPN President George Bodenheimer quickly cleared the programming slate when he found out Lebron and his pecker were available, especially since King James agreed to donate proceeds from the ad sales of his program to charity. “Not only will this be groundbreaking programming,” Bodenheimer said from ESPN headquarters in Bristol, Connecticut, “but just think of the good Greenpeace can do with all that pecker money.”
Host Jim Gray will be on hand to ask Lebron tough questions about his pecker’s life on and off the court. The program will be immediately followed by Charles Barkley’s Vampire Disco Bullfight Execution Hour, in which the former forward will get effed up and just wing it.
The news is everywhere that a shakeup has gone down behind the scenes at American Idol. With ratings starting to decline and Simon leaving the program, producers knew that they had to take some drastic measures.
So, judges Ellen and Kara are out and replacing them will be J-Lo and Steven Tyler. What hasn’t been reported is that General Petraeus will also be joining the show as a judge. Already assigned with the twin burdens of successfully completing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, Petraeus will be expected to rescue the disaster that Idol has become.
Some people think Petraeus is too nice like Ellen, but this is a four-star general who is used to talking tough with some of the most evil terrorists in the world. If you sing a song and you sound like a bunch of cats murdering a bird, Petraeus isn’t going to lie to you.
He’s also up for the ratings challenge. “We will pursue Dancing with the Stars relentlessly,” Petraeus said at a press conference. “We will target them and their leaders. We will fight hard and with discipline until we reach our achievable goals.”
In order to further liven things up, Ryan Seacrest has been let go to make room for new host, Al-Qaeda member Ali Saleh Kahlah al-Marri. Unlike Ellen, this enemy combatant is definitely not too nice. In fact, he’s a terrorist hellbent on destroying Western culture. The banter between Al-Marri and Petraeus will no doubt be deliciously bitchy. Fox has its fingers crossed.
That Dick Cheney sex tape that’s been rumored to be out there for a while has finally emerged on the Internet. It’s not great quality video footage–kind of grainy–but you can clearly see it’s the former Vice President.
Some people think that Cheney’s political enemies have released the tape to embarrass him, but others believe that Cheney himself has leaked the video to boost his popularity. Nobody has any sympathy for him even though he has a ferret heart and arteries fashioned from a vacuum cleaner bag. Maybe having a sex tape in circulation will improve his standing with the public like it did for that Kardashian woman.
I’ve already had a look at the footage and it’s as graphic as you might expect. It’s certainly not for the squeamish, as there’s no pixelation. Cheney likes using his mouth a lot on the private parts and he’s really into doing it doggy style. He seems unduly proud of his blotchy skin and tiny wang. There’s a tattoo of a scorpion on his ass. He sneers throughout.
You have to give the former Veep credit for being pretty athletic considering he lacks a pulse and a heartbeat and shit. During the climactic scene, Cheney appears to ejaculate bat blood instead of semen. It’s possible it’s snake venom, but it really looks to have the texture and consistency of bat blood. I don’t know for sure; I’m not a bat scientist.
If the video goes viral, then perhaps Cheney will get to be a contestant on Dancing with the Stars or maybe decide to run for the Presidency in 2012. Massachusetts Senator Scott Brown, who’s done soft-core photo spreads and videos, can be his running mate. Obama only does tasteful topless shots, so they’d have that advantage over him.