Ok, I admit it, I supported the invasion of Afghanistan.

Yes, yes, it's true. I was young and naive, and needed the money. Ok so I didn't get paid to support the war. But I was, at the ripe age of...one..two...10 years old, very afraid because I was living in a peninsula, which meant I would be totally screwed if they(the evil they!) attacked northern florida and I had nowhere to go but Cuba. Dub 43(that is, George W., the 43rd president) convinced me they we needed to employ some god damn offensive defense to save the country and kill the bastards that attacked the twin towers(which I had never heard of before 9/11). I was living in a conservative household at the time, I think my dad had already moved out by then, and I wasn't exposed to anything but FOX and Rush Limbaugh on the radio, so naturally, I was able to mock my classmates with glee "aren't you glad that Gore isn't in office right now?" I showed them.

Now you may be wondering why, eight years after 9/11 and the subsequent invasion of Opiumland, I'm bringing this up. One it's because I feel so god damn stupid, knowing that if just not for Afghanistan(I was learning during Iraq, so I wised up really, really quick, so I'm not counting it nah nah!), I would have never supported a war in my lifetime. I also read this brilliant article by John Mueller (http://www.the-american-interest.com/article.cfm?piece=418) and I whole heartedly agree with the man. It also helped me come up with this terrible joke.

9/11 terrorist attacks: About $500,000
Money spent on War on Terror: $922965833976*
Destroying America from the inside out: Priceless

I would break down the cost in american vs iraqi/afghan blood, but that's just tasteless and I suck at math.
*Costofwar.com and I don't care if it's wrong by 50%, the number is still staggering.

If you have the time, please read that article, by the way.


Back to the matter at hand, I supported the war. I didn't know the Ruskies had tried this before and I couldn't have pointed it out on a map, but by Captain's Falcon Punch, I wanted to replace the fucking milk in my cereal with Al-Qaeda/Taliban/Muslim/DC Sniper/Anthrax-Maker blood. In other words, I had War Fever. I was soon satiated. We bombed the motherfucking shit(the first time I've used vulgarities and actually felt it was necessary to express what I was trying to say) out of Afghan caves. New fancy words like Daisy Cutters and Bunker Busters were becoming household names. This is America and you can suck my 10 year old dick I would tell an Afghan if I saw him, right before I shot him.

Nowadays, things are a little bit different. If I met an Afghan man I would apologize to him. I would explain that I'm steadfastly against American imperial policies. I would listen to his plight. How we bombed the hospital where his wife was giving birth. Blew up his opium field. Killed his brother. Or maybe he wasn't even directly affected. I would still apologize.

But as the wise and honorable Mr. Jacques(he beat the Obama drum a bit too much for a man who liked to label himself a libertarian on occasion, in my opinion, but such is a public school teacher, plus he'd be crazy not to with crazy liberals like Adam Steinberg in his class)...

what was I talking about?

"Hindsight is 20/20" Jacques would always say, and this is a very true statement. Even if I knew then what I know now, would I have the courage NOT to support the effort to go overseas and destroy every decent aspect of life a person even remotely affiliated to 9/11 had? Sadly, the answer is easily yes, my life, and yours, has been wildly impacted by our foreign policy since 9/11. As history has shown, imperial policy abroad only leads to civil strife domestically, and although I can't quite answer what we should've done(I could try), going to war is never an option in my playbook.


Of course, if people just adhered to the constitution, we wouldn't even be in a situation where something like 9/11 would happen, but you can't change history, only make it.

A Day At The Beach, AKA The Greatest Story Ever Written Ever by Zack Mayo and Four Other Students in my English Class. But Mostly Zack Mayo.

In my English class, I was tasked to write a story with four other classmates with the topic simply being 'A Day At The Beach.' This is what we came up with.




Once upon a time, a man with a shadowy past named Johnny Crunch took a day off from his job in the factory to take his family to a day at the beach. Johnny, his wife, his son, and his dog all walked from their apartment to the nearby shore. Once they arrived, Johnny's son asked him to get an ice cream cone for him. Johnny leaves his family.
Meanwhile, less than a mile offshore, Captain Morgan, captain of the Barrel, a thousand foot pirate yacht realizes that his ship is completely dry. To replenish his stock of booze, he sends his evil henchmen, the Rum Runners, to go ashore and pillage. Dozens of Rum Runners ride ashore on their jetskis. The Rum Runners rape, pillage, and plunder everything in sight in their search for booze. When they stumble upon Johnny's wife, they brutally attack and rape her. The dog attacks one of the assailants, killing him. The Rum Runners shoot the dog 1,000 times, leave the wife, and kidnap the son as payment for their fallen comrade. Just as the Rum Runners are leaving, Johnny Crunch returns with an ice cream cone to find his dog slaughtered, his wife raped, and his son being kidnapped. In tears, he drops the ice cream cone. Johnny is then snapped from his trance like state by the dying words from his wife, "Save him Johnny, please!" Johnny promises he will save their son, and runs from the beach to prepare.
On the Barrel, Captain Morgan and his second-in-command, First Mate Swallows, finish directing the loading of the alcohol when they are brought the boy. "He's fabulous," said First Mate Swallows, "can I keep him?" Captain Morgan slaps First Mate Swallows hard across the face and says, "No, he will not be tainted by your vile touch, he stays with me!" First Mate Swallows runs off crying.
Back on the beach, Johnny Crunch has finished his preparations and commandeers the jetski of the fallen Rum Runner and rides into the night. He pulls his jetski alongside the massive pirate yacht and pulls out his grappling hook. Johnny throws the hook over the side of the railing and climbs up. He vaults over the railing, pulls out two pistols, and shouts "IT'S CRUNCH TIME, BITCHES!" Two Rum Runners run to investigate the noise, and Johnny shoots them simultaneously. Johnny then enters the nearest room and begins blasting. Rum Runners in the room are screaming and shouting, but few are able to return fire before Johnny Crunch picks them off with pin point accuracy. Johnny walks up to one of the wounded Rum Runners and asks where his son is. The Rum Runner points to some stairs, leading to the lower deck of the ship. Johnny thanks the Rum Runner by shooting him in the head.
At that moment, First Mate Swallows bursts into the room with twenty more Rum Runners all armed to the teeth. Johnny combat rolls behind a marble statue of Captain Morgan. As pieces of the statue crumble around him, Johnny pulls the pin on a grenade and tosses it behind him. It explodes, killing most of the Rum Runners. First Mate Swallows escapes down the stairs. Johnny finishes off the remaining Rum Runners with ease and proceeds down the stairs as well.
Johnny arrives at the end of the corridor and enters the room.
There's a naked woman tied to the wall in the back, with First Mate Swallows, Captain Morgan, and Johnny's son standing in the middle. Captain Morgan has a gun to the boys head. "Shoot him, Swallows!" shouts Captain Morgan, but Johnny was too fast, and shot First Mate Swallows in the chest. He fell. Captain Morgan then pushes the boy and points at Johnny, but once again, Johnny was too fast, and shot Captain Morgan in the head. Captain Morgan fell alongside First Mate Swallows. Johnny's son then runs to hug Johnny, shouting "Daddy!" A gun shot sounds. The boy falls. First Mate Swallows drops the gun, still laying on the floor. Johnny walks up to him, sticks the gun in his mouth, and says "Swallow this!" and fires. Swallows' head rolls off. Johnny then gets up and walks to the naked woman and unties her. She thanks him, introduces herself as Destiny, and asks his name. "I'm the new captain of this vessel. You can call me Crunch, Captain Crunch. Let's go, it's Crunch time."

On Why A Man Who Can Kill Everyone On Earth at the Word Banana Should Not be Eligible for the Nobel Peace Prize

and variouf other interefting topicf fuch af King Obama and the Divine Right of Liberals.
That's a poke at all those crazy revolutionary pamphlets that had f's for S's. Open a text book, I beseech you.

TO THE MATTER AT HAND

This morning I, like every other two-bit writer in the country, was awoken by a loved one(in this caseKris) to be informed of the news that Barack Obama had won the Nobel Peace Prize. Beyond the immediate attempt to invent a new tier of the phrase of "WHAT THE FUCK?" because the situation called for it, I imagined a smirk faced bastard sitting behind a podium, accepting the award for Nobel Prize. This smirk faced bastard happened to be the Grand Enlightened Monarch of America, and he also happened to be Commander in Chief of an army that has over 1,000 military bases overseas, a standing army of 1.4 million(with almost 500,000 abroad), and at the word Banana, can launch 5,000 nuclear weapons in all directions that can literally destroy all life on Earth. Even the penguins. I really hope the password to launch nukes is Banana and that several men sporting all black and sub machine guns are on their way to kill me right now.


This guy, who as of January 20th 2009 has been in charge of the United States, one of the most imperialist and aggressive nations of the past century, does not deserve the Nobel Peace Prize. The Norwegian Assholes of the shoes-on-wrong-foot Retarded Nobel Committee cited his "extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples." Now I'm not a fucking political scientist, nor am I pants-on-head retarded like the Nobel Committee, but this is the guy who went to give a speech to the children of our country, and parents started pulling their kids out of school. Does that not say something about the cooperation between peoples in this country? Iraqi's and Afghan's must sure enjoy the cooperation of the business end of an M4 Carbine held by a 17 year old who was too stupid or too poor to do anything else with his life. or her life. but not his fabulous life, because gays are clearly detrimental to morale.

I cannot stress the stupidity of this. Nor can I stress that this is NOT a good thing. The last thing the King of the United States needs is another god damn crown. Jagland(the fucktard in chief of the committee) said "His diplomacy is founded in the concept that those who are to lead the world must do so on the basis of values and attitudes that are shared by the majority of the world's population,"

Last I checked, Obama was the president of MY FUCKING COUNTRY. Not the the world. Fuck the world. The rest of the world can literally go fuck itself. I'm not sure if you read the Constitution oh dearest king, but your job is not to police the world and ensure peace for all. It's simply to veto legislation, talk to congress, and negotiate treaties with other countries. Making sure some fucking Iranians don't slaughter those silly land gabbing jews is a worthy cause, but not your fucking job.

This is just another case of the world falling over and landing anus first on Obama's(what I would assume) gigantic black cock. We can call the Nobel Peace Prize Committee the First Anal Expeditionary Squad. When you look at what Obama has done(been black), and is responsible for(wasting a lot of hard earned...nay...printed/borrowed money), I, and one would assume everyone else that isn't must-wear-helmet-when-leaving-the-household retarded, would say that my left nut is about as worthy of the Nobel Peace Prize as Barack Obama. But at least my left nut isn't responsible for the lives of the people of Afghanistan and Iraq, who would assuredly say that King Obama is anything but peaceful.

If I were king of sports land...

Today I was hit in the face with the harsh unloving reality of capitalism when I discovered that Los Angeles has two baseball teams. Not only that, two relevant baseball teams. I say this to the people of Los Angeles, you greedy greedy bastards, do you REALLY need TWO baseball teams? Same to you NYC. You're a bunch of greedy assholes. This is what happens when you leave capitalism unchecked, all the rich people take all the cool things(like football teams) and even the uncool things(like baseball teams) away from the poor poor people of cities like Billings, Montana or Birmingham, Alabama. Something needs to be done!

Don't worry, this is why we have government!

Having finally seen the light in the uses of government regulation, I'm going to apply to become Sports Czar of the Obama Administration. Being that I pay my taxes and have not been recorded promoting communism, I'm pretty sure I'll be approved by Monday. Once I'm appointed Sports Czar, the first mandate I'm making is that a city can only have one sports team per sport.

Sorry LA Dodgers, your days of not getting hit by things is over. And GET-THE-FUCK-OUT JETS JETS JETS because your bullshittery will no longer be tolerated. Chicago Cubs, I'm dealing with you the way I deal with girls that lead me on and break my heart, never letting you go! That's right Chicago White Sox, the MLB already has a team with colored Sox, so go fuck yourself. NY Mets, don't even waste my time! Hey, Jacksonville Jaguars, you're too close to Tampa, GTFO!

Barrow, Alaska, enjoy your new football team, the Barrow Rollers!
Killdeer, North Dakota, you get a fucking baseball team, The North Dakota Deer Shankers!
Phenix City, Alabama, I appreciate your sticking it to weird spellings of things, have a baseball team compliments of Chicago, the Phenix Dropouts!

and the best of all

Arkadelphia, Arkansas, you deserve a punch in the face, instead, you get a football team, the Arkadelphia Desert Eagles