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Despite what you reported tonight, the Brazilian soccer team was not actually “massacred in every sense of the word” by Germany. Thankfully.
We will avenge our murdered husbands.
Father is covered in blood and dishonor.
I declare war upon Germany.
Wait…what?
Tags: Russ Salzberg
Today is a special day when Americans eat too much, drink too much and blow stuff up. That’s right, it’s Friday.
Oh, and it’s also July 4th, the anniversary of when we began waxing those British father-rapers who were taxing us and then using that money to supply us with basic services we desperately needed. Yes, it’s the birthday of the U.S.A., the greatest nation in the history of the world. If you forget that America is the best country ever, don’t worry, we’ll remind you. That’s because we’re large and wealthy yet deeply insecure, much like Alec Baldwin. Luckily, other countries are far worse than we are, so they can’t say shit. Yes, Turkmenistan, I’m looking at you. Suck it! And if you do talk trash about us, we’ll know right away because we’re listening in on all your private conversations. We can’t help it: Spying on you, sexy world, sends blood rushing to our boners.
Anyhow, enjoy a safe and happy holiday!
Rock of Ages is now available for download on iTunes.
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A summer day at the beach with Blotto, which was not Devo:
Let’s get nasty.
But you’re removing my husband’s gall bladder.
He looks healthy enough for a three-way to me.
I wouldn’t say “no.”
Good. I go commando under my scrubs.
I hate you, Obamacare.
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See also:
See also:
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‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house…
…not a creature was stirring…
…not even a louse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care…
…in the hopes that the paparazzi soon would be there.
Now Vinny!
Now Victor!
Now Vito!
Now Sheamus!
Please take my photo.
I want to be famous!
I’ll protect you, my dear. They won’t get anywhere near you.
Stay away from me, dummy, or I’ll smack you with a horseshoe.
You’ll cost me a reality show and a spacious new palace.
My life’s more confused than the plotline of Malice.
What is the source of your furious behavior?
I’m insecure about my manhood and need to be a savior.
Perhaps switch to decaf and learn to shut up.
Regardless, when this is over, I’ll contest the prenup.
Until then, I’ll rage…
…and attack…
…and make scenes.
But Happy Christmas to all, even all you toxic queens.
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Happy holidays, Afflictor readers, whatever religion or culture you observe. Unless you think your stupid personal mythology makes you better than someone else. Then you should go scratch your ass with a broken milk bottle. Because none of us is special. I mean, most of us actually deserve a good caning. So let’s tear down the pretenses and egos and statues, and realize that we’re all just sacks of shit. Beautiful sacks of shit, sure, but that’s it. After all, we only believe those nonsense religions because we’re afraid of dying. And we should be. Death is a bastard.
Anyhow: Happy holidays!–Darren
Billionaire Vodka, venison, corporate welfare.
You probably had a hectic Black Friday and so did Santa Claus. No, he wasn’t making toys for your children in his workshop. Fuck that. Santa was busy sending viruses to the Healthcare.gov website. You see, Santa has gone right wing like David Mamet. His interests now include increasing wealth inequality and spending like a Koch brother to prevent Obama from getting a third term. (Yeah, I know, but don’t tell him.) He got a job at Goldman Sachs and converted the workshop into a gentlemen’s club for his Wall Street friends. It’s got stripper poles and dogfights and cigar bars and a firing range. But Santa’s not completely heartless. Why, he kept a few elves around to provide live sex shows for the clientele. You should see their little mouths go.
One more thing: Mrs. Claus got the heave-ho–ho–ho. She no longer had a thigh gap and Kris decided he was entitled to a fresh piece or two. So if your MILF of a mom is willing to be friendly, maybe you’ll get a gift after all. She doesn’t have to worry about getting knocked up, either. No, Santa didn’t get clipped like George Clooney. It’s just that he only comes once a year and always brings a bag. Get it? Good. Because that’s all you’re getting this Christmas.•
Don’t cry, Abigail. You would have gotten tired of that new dollie in a few years anyway. Oh, and did I mention that Grandma passed?
Nana (1935-2013)
Santa made me blow a hedge-fund manager.
You’ve got to earn that tricycle.
Hey, why does this turkey taste like shit?
I prepared it myself.
I need to speak to Dr. Morey at once.
Dr. Morey, that horrible woman who keeps eating shit is on the line.
Put Sarah Palin through, Gloria.
What is your professional opinion, Doctor?
I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news.
What’s the bad news?
You’re stupid. Oh, and you ate Martin Bashir’s feces.
What’s the good news?
At least you didn’t drink Glenn Beck’s urine.
Uh-oh.
I prepared it myself.
That pardon isn’t for free, Paulie. We need you to work with us.
President Obama continued a Thanksgiving tradition today when he pardoned two turkeys, Paulie and Frankie. In order to secure the pardons, the brothers agreed to help the Feds bring down their family’s racketeering operation. Paulie turned state’s evidence and Frankie wore a wire. They tried to play it cool, but word got out that they’d flipped, so they had to be taken out. You know how it is when you go against the family, boys. It’s nothing personal–just business.
A bullet in the neck for you, Paulie.
You lived like scum, Frankie, and you died like it.
Paulie (2013-2013).
Frankie (2013-2013).
Brian (1998-2013).
I promise that I will never rewatch Goodfellas during a holiday week again. Remember, kids: Crime doesn’t pay. Except for most types of white-collar crime. Happy Thanksgiving, Afflictor readers!–Darren