Facebook Martyrs and Limousine Liberals

In the past, when someone annoyed me, I’d sometimes give them the gift of Mormon. Basically, you enter their name and address on Mormon.org, and quicker than you can say polygamous union, two identically dressed little automatons would come to their home and tell them the good news.

And since it’s easier to shake the clap than Mormon missionaries, this was a gift that kept giving.

But, as fun as that was, it was played out, and I couldn’t think of a suitable replacement. Until now.

Inspiration struck as I was watching the millionaire leftists at the SAG awards bitch about Trump’s immigration policy. Sure, they live behind walls in gated communities, and they could have used the millions they spent on that self-congratulatory shindig to help others, but I understand there’s no point being a limousine liberal without the limousine.

I also realize helping other people sucks, and I’d rather do just about anything other than a good deed, but I’ve never pretended otherwise. Unfortunately, some people aren’t as honest and have to be drug kicking and screaming into the light.

Only then can they admit they’re selfish little pieces of shit, just like me.

For example, do you know someone who went on Facebook in the last week and posted an excerpt from Emma Lazarus’ stupid poem and then opined about how we’ve turned our backs on the poor huddled masses yearning to breathe free?

Sure you do. And you could continue to let them slide with their bullshit, or you could take a page from the Codajoy playbook and sign them up with six different refugee aid organizations to house a family of migrants. I’m also looking for a cheap goat because I’ve always wanted to give a goat as a housewarming present, and this seems like a golden opportunity for that.


Does Madonna Have Dementia?

Last year people speculated Madonna was having a nervous breakdown after her disastrous Australian concert tour. During one show she even dressed as a clown and pedaled out on the stage on a tricycle before falling off and babbling incoherently to the audience.

More recently she raised eyebrows with her statements against Donald Trump and her admission that she thought about blowing up the White House. Most people just wrote off her comments as sour grapes from another limousine liberal pouting because she didn’t get her way, but I think it’s more than that.

I think the old girl has dementia.

Thanks to the tireless work of make-up artists, morticians’ assistants and animatronics wizards, Madonna is able to shamble around on-stage and give the illusion of youth and vigor. But, it’s all an illusion.

Madonna is almost 60 years old, and here’s a short list of things younger than her: the Slurpee, child safety seats, weather satellites, eight track cassettes, racquetball and contraceptive birth control pills.

And the more I look into this, the more I think her claimed birthday is bullshit, and she might be much older.

Here is a clear depiction of her riding a pig with some dude on a 19th century Russian woodcut. That would put her at well over a hundred and a clear candidate for age-related cognitive problems.


Microsoft Just Won The Web Browser War

After two decades of trying to force the world’s shittiest web browser down the throats of its unwilling users, Microsoft finally came to its senses and put one behind the ear of Internet Explorer.
Unfortunately, the taint of suck that surrounded IE was so strong that most sane people refused to even try its replacement, Microsoft Edge. 
Much like me, I can only imagine they were gripped by the fear that Edge would unexpectedly appear behind them in their home or office.  It would slowly walk forward, dragging its one gimpy leg, before launching itself forward with unbelievable speed.  It would then wrap its powerful hands around their throats while attempting to rape them behind their desk or cubicle.
Thankfully, those fears are mostly unfounded, and Microsoft Edge wins for no other reason than it will delete my goddamned search history on exit. 
For some unknown reason Chrome refuses to afford me even the façade of privacy, and I refuse to enter incognito mode because that would mean admitting I’m just a middle-aged pervert, and not a normal man doing completely normal things.
Look, I’m not naïve, and I understand that every depraved and disgusting Internet search I’ve ever made is stored in an NSA dossier in one of their data centers.  I also understand that Google and Amazon have built a customer profile of me that’s so frighteningly accurate, its algorithms know me better than any real person on earth,
I just want the security of knowing if I search for “pregnant tranny midgets,” that little cry for help will just be between me and shadowy government and corporate figures.  My kids will never see it, and unless my wife hires a data retrieval expert as part of our eventual divorce, she too will remain blissfully unaware.


Christ I Hate Gift Cards

People don’t want to give cash because they think it’s cold and impersonal so they try to create a fake veneer of thoughtfulness by buying gift cards, but they shouldn’t because gift cards suck and only retards buy them.

You’re basically still giving cash, but it’s a terrible kind of cash that can only be spent at one place and it doesn’t give you change.

The only time it’s appropriate to buy a gift card is if you want to wage subtle psychological war on someone.

For example, my sister-in-law and brother-in-law are separated but spent time together for the holidays, so when we exchanged presents I gave her a Victoria’s Secret card just so he could imagine her buying lingerie and dressing up for other men.

I originally bought him a liquor store gift card, but I was afraid he would get drunk and kill himself, and then my wife and I would have to adopt at least one of his mongoloid kids, so I kept that card and gave him a Panera Bread gift card I found in our junk drawer.

It seems hard to imagine that gift cards didn’t really exist before the mid-90s when Blockbuster invented them. Prior to that you might get gift certificates, but there was no little fake credit card with the name of the business on it.

And since anywhere from 10% to 20% of U.S. gift cards are never used, business love them because you’re basically giving them free money.

My only gift card exception is for Amazon.com. Thanks to the two $25 cards I got at Christmas, I’m only $3.57 away from being able to anonymously buy that Fleshlight I’ve had my eye on.


I Knew It Was The Damned Russkies!!!!

Wikileaks founder Julian Assange shockingly accused outgoing U.S. President Barack Hussein Obama of falsely accusing the Russians of hacking the emails that helped Donald Trump defeat the Mesopotamian demon currently inhabiting the husk of Hillary Clinton in last year’s presidential election.

Assange went on to say that Obama is pressing these false charges “to delegitimize the Trump administration as it goes into the White House.”

It’s time to wake up sheeple and realize that Assange is a liar, and not only did the Russians hack Podesta’s emails and interfere in various other parts of the democratic election process, but they’ve been up to a ton of other nefarious shit, and I for one am not willing to give them a free pass.

For example, even though my homeowner’s association claims it has “irrefutable proof” I’m the one who stacked all the reindeer in my yard so it looked they were humping, that was 100% not me, and I’m not paying their bullshit fine. It was the Russians.

One night in the middle of December the Russians also inexplicably wrote “No Midgets Allowed” in flashing Christmas lights on my porch and anyone who knows me knows I would never do such a thing.

I find female midgets incredibly erotic and if anything would want to inform them that not only are they allowed, they are actively encouraged to stop in. Clearly, the Russians were just messing with me and trying to cause yet another fight between me, the HOA, my neighbors and my wife.

These crafty Bolsheviks are like gremlins, and if the movie Gremlins has taught me anything, it’s that they should never be fed after midnight or bathed. Not really sure how that helps me here, though.


Hello Hangover, My New Year’s Friend

One of the many perks of alcohol abuse is I almost never get hangovers anymore. I may feel tired from a restless night’s sleep, and my beleaguered kidneys and liver may give me a healthy reddish-yellow glow, but dry heaves, nausea and outright vomiting are relics of the past – except for this one magical night.

I like to ring in the new year right, and I find the best way to do that is to play liquor cabinet roulette and drink odd alcohol combinations until I’m fairly certain I shit my pants, but since I’m numb from the waist down, I can’t be 100% sure.

And since my wife frowns on me lying in bed the next day and ignoring the kids on a day off, I need a way to bounce back and at least get near my normal half-assed level of parenting.

Over the years I’ve tried every hangover remedy known to man from burnt toast and honey sandwiches to olive oil shots but there are only two things that really work. You either have to give blood or go to a health food store and buy borage oil capsules and fish oil capsules.

I’m not really sure why giving blood works, but I guarantee you can feel like absolute garbage and an hour after giving blood, you’ll be good as new. Unfortunately, New Year’s blood drives are a rarity, so you’re stuck with the health food store.

Borage oil capsules contain a fatty acid found in starflowers and fish oil is pretty much the same thing but from oily fish, and if you take them both with a nice Pedialyte chaser, the results are real and they’re spectacular.


A Codajoy Classic – The Humblebrag Christmas Letter

candy cane There are few things on earth that can simultaneously set my teeth on edge and fill me with jaded glee like a well crafted humblebrag Christmas letter.

They always remind me of press releases from failing companies that are trying to hype some re-hashed product in a vain attempt to stay in business for another year. The only difference is the company shill who wrote the release understands the game while the creator of the family card is probably a sociopath.

All great humblebrag greetings contain three things: (1) Sports and/or academic achievement by their dumbass kids, (2) Work/Civic achievements for the dumbass parents and (3) Vacation or other news to contrast their success with your bleak life.

As a realistic parent I’m under no delusions about my children, and if all three manage to find careers that don’t involve sucking dick behind the Sheetz for crack, I’ll feel like I did my job.

And if you’re the type that feels like your nine-year-old throwing a two-hitter in a Little League game is notable, it’s just going to make it more difficult for you to accept it when that kid turns out to be a fuck-up and is still living at home at 30.

That’s why you always need a lot of children. Odds are at least one is going to suck.

I tried to get my wife to do a fake humble brag card this year, but her response was typical; “You have 51 weeks a year to be an asshole, can’t you at least be nice for one?”

Apparently, I cannot.


Fisher-Price Isn’t Making A Happy Hour Playset

Last week Adam Padilla posted a joke picture of a Fisher-Price Happy Hour Playset for toddlers on Instagram, and since a solid third of the U.S. population is mildly retarded, a significant number of people fell for the bit.

And even if you’re like me and have no moral problem with a toy like this, a toddler bar set makes no sense. Our commie country doesn’t allow you to bring kids into bars, so they have no frame of reference on how to actually use the set.

They don’t know about the dead-eyed bartenders who wear low-cut shirts so desperate losers will give them more tips. Hell, they don’t even know about the rambling bullshit stories of loves lost, challenges overcome and fat girls doing crazy fat girl things that make up all the best bar tales.

As I look back at my life, alcohol has played a large part in most of my milestones, but as I think about all the hangovers, close calls and regrets, I wish drug companies would get on board and actually make a recreational drug for the modern age.

They have no problem pouring billions into R&D for ailments like depression, anxiety and general malaise when a kick-ass pill that gets you high as fuck without addiction would be just as good.

And while I’m day-dreaming here, it should also have an antidote. You go to the bar, get hammered and before you leave, you take the antidote and then rationally and objectively decide if you’re still a brave little mountaineer who wants to try to summit Mount McFatchick.


Corporate Media Demands Monopoly On Fake News

dog Crumbling western governments and their failing elitist media supporters have suddenly decided Senator Joseph McCarthy was onto something with his plan to blacklist people and news outlets that express opinions contrary to state-approved dogma.

From now on, “fake news sites,” which basically means any outlet that refuses to toe the party line, will be censored because people cannot be trusted to make up their own goddamned minds and separate fact from fiction.

And we’ll just conveniently overlook the fact that world leaders didn’t seem to have any problem with the fake news that led to the disastrous U.S. invasion of Iraq or the equally dangerous Iran nuclear deal.

Oddly enough, my biggest beef with the press isn’t their unceasing leftist bias, it’s the constant pissing, moaning and whining and steadfast refusal to ever look on the bright side and cover genuinely happy news.

The liquor store by my house just ran a sale on Jagermeister, and I feel like that should elicit at least as much coverage as some stupid sinkhole that ate a car in Florida.

A few years ago I stumbled on a homeless village in the woods behind the commuter lot in Stafford, VA and one of the filthy transients had actually constructed an oven out of mud to cook bread. Once again, I find this vagrant’s ingenuity far more interesting than yet another media sponsored LGBT propaganda blitz.

Our world is a pretty amazing place and cheap liquor and handy hobos are just the tip of the iceberg.


Is Kellogg’s Drugging Their Cereal?


The New Frosted Flakes Mascot?

Earlier this week Kellogg’s decided they were no longer going to advertise on the website www.breitbart.com because Kellogg’s corporate leaders are liberal, and they didn’t want to use their company’s profits to support conservative opinions.

It seems a bit odd that a for-profit company would alienate tens of millions of customers just to push their own political agenda, but it appears the people who run the company are painfully left wing and have already spent tens of millions to advance their leftist world view.

Then, I started to wonder, what if it’s actually worse, and Kellogg’s is literally poisoning a generation of children to make them more susceptible to liberal propaganda.

Normally, I only eat eggs and black coffee for breakfast, but I decided to do a little experiment and ate only Kellogg’s products for three successive days to see if there were any negative effects, and what I found terrified me.

After just a day, I found my strength and anger diminishing, and when I almost backed over a guy in a wheelchair in the Walmart parking lot, I actually got out and apologized instead of throwing a beer can at him and threatening to flip him over for getting in my way.

By day three I had completely gone off the rails, and I was unable to work because I was spending all of my time surfing the Craigslist MFM section as well as crying hysterically for no reason.

Thankfully, a full day of consuming nothing but venison, Crown Royal and Don Seville cigars put me back right, but I’m now genuinely concerned Kellogg’s is using some kind of lab-created fairy dust to turn otherwise red blooded American boys and girls into mincing leftist puppets.