Happy Halloween

Just dropping in to wish all of my buddies who celebrate it a HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Stay safe out there!

FLAMING BAG OF POO

Try not to eat too much candy.I have already been dipping into the candy dish.I'm so bad!

Real food for your soul...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uuabITeO4l8

God keeps speaking, people.
This is one of my dreams, that church (religion) open their eyes and really get to know and do what they speak they follow, there is only one way and is getting to know him so he can know you... is what matters

Plagiarism Blows!

First: thanks bunches to Sara Sue. You’ll find out why in a minute.

About two years ago, I did a review of Peter Schaffer’s Equus for my site. You can read it here if you like; it’s not long. My motive for writing this review—indeed, my motive for writing all my reviews—was to inform and recommend literary works that I personally find enjoyable, thought-provoking and worthwhile. I did this in the hopes that the reviews would spark interesting conversation. I also did it for free.

I was blog-hopping this weekend, and I swung by Sara Says like I always do on or around Friday. While I was disappointed that I didn’t find what I look for every week (it’s been postponed), I did find a link to this post, all about content theft, copyright infringement, and how to protect yourself from same. So, thanks to Sara for posting the link; and thanks to Mike, whoever he is, for sending it to Sara, so she could pass it on to everyone looking or free boob pictures.

I remember Malach had an issue a year or so ago with someone displaying his artwork without his permission. I decided to take Lorelle’s advice and see if anyone had been ripping me off, so I went to Copyscape and started typing in webpage URLs from Angrypiper.com. I went through about nine or so, until I found what I was looking for. You see, it seems that last year, on the island of St. Thomas, USVI, a production of Equus made the rounds. It fell to the St. Thomas Source to cover the story. Based on what I’ve been able to determine, the “Source staff” who was assigned to do the job lifted a little less than a hundred words from the book review originally posted on Hill TV, word for word, without my permission. You can see for yourself here.

I find it very easy to imagine this job being handed off to someone who doesn’t normally cover entertainment news, perhaps an intern; someone who probably had no idea what the play was about but had to write a review. Hence the generic “Source staff” byline. Rather than read the play himself (something that would probably take the average literate person a whole two hours to do) or even rent the movie (again, two hours max with no reading invlolved), he decides to hit the web for a synopsis. “Source staff” Googles “Equus review” and gets my site. He figures Angrypiper.com for a small vanity site (which it more or less is), and he figures the traffic is probably low (actually, it’s higher than you’d think), so the chances of discovery are minimal. He’s right; I probably never would have noticed it if not for Sara Sue’s link.

It should be noted that I am ignoring Lorelle’s advice right now by posting anything about this before attempting to resolve this issue. But I don’t expect much in the way of resolution. The St. Thomas Source probably has a small circulation (not counting, obviously, the Internet). Besides, the page is full of dead image links and probably isn’t visited very often, and since the production ended a year ago, it hardly seems relevant, does it?

It does to me. Understand: when I first started posting book reviews, I pretty much expected “uncredited excerpts” of them to wind up on term papers and stuff like that. What really bothers me about this is not so much that “Source staff” stole my work without asking and published it as his own. (Although that does bother me a lot; if he had asked, I probably would have given permission, and contacting me is easy. My mailto link is on every page of my website.) What bothers me is “Source staff”, last time I checked, was a job description, kind of like “staff reporter”. Which means that in all likelihood, he got a paycheck for the review, a significant part of which I wrote. Call me wacky, but I feel that if anyone should get paid for my work, it should be me.

Here’s what I’m going to do. First, I plan on emailing the editor of the St. Thomas Source to inform him that whoever “Source staff” is, they are guilty of plagiarism, as they have falsely misrepresented another’s work as their own and have profited by it. He did mention the “essay” at Hill TV, but said it was written by the playwright, which is not only completely wrong, it displays a level of irresponsibility and amateurism shocking in a newspaper, even a small one (especially a newspaper who calls itself ‘The Source’). Hopefully even small newspapers have a zero-tolerance policy on that. I don’t expect any financial reimbursement. I just want them to be aware of it.

Second, “Source staff” has ensured that I will never, as I had previously planned, publish one word of my fiction online. I refer to my serious writing endeavors. I will still, from time to time, publish various Tales of the WoW on the Wand of Wonder, so don’t fret. But if I put my heart and soul into a story only to have it stolen and posted as someone else’s, I’ll turn into the Hulk, and I’m already angry enough.

One more thing. I only got through about one-third of my web pages before Copyscape wouldn’t let me search anymore. They limit you to ten searches per domain per month, unless you pay for more. I didn’t search for any of my blogposts. I’m not even sure how to do that, since my blog is still hosted by Blogger. I didn’t get through all my Book Reviews, and I didn’t even start searching for my Angry Rants. But I will.

I wonder how much more of my stuff—and yours—is out there.

Terry Francona

The haters . . .
I may surprise a lot of you, but there is a vocal section of Red Sox Nation, who hate Terry Francona, think he is a bad manager, and the team wins in spite him. These are the same people who also think, they would make a better manager for the Sox with just watching the game. Malach asks these idiots, what the HELL are you watching!

Malach went to a Halloween Party this weekend, and out of the 15 guys there, there were three people who thought the above thoughts. Malach of course debated them and they could not come up with a adequate reason why they think Francona is a bad manager. They could not argue with him winning 2 World Series in 4 years, they could not argue with 8 - 0 in World Series Games, they could not argue with his post season record, or his 4 year record with the Sox. They could not give any manager in the past that they felt was better.

When question of who they would rather have as a manager, they said Joe Torre unanimously. HEY MORONS! Terry Francona is Joe Torre, only he does not burn out bullpens. I really cannot understand this thought. These are the same people who unquestioningly worship Bill Bellichick, when Francona ain't that far off from Bellichicks accomplishments . . .

These people are left over from pre-2004, Curse Era Red Sox. This in not your father, or your grandfathers Red Sox People. Wake the Hell up.

And lest we forget a great man

I am Malach, Cover me Piper . . .with your love

Because I am an Asshole...

I will preface this by saying, I totally understand this makes me a bad person for finding this story amusing, but it was just so ironic, I could not help myself. It's sad, yes, this poor little kid is dying of cancer, and his special chemo-tastic wish is to get a pony from "Make-a-Wish", he gets it and then it is devoured by pit bulls.


Also making me an asshole, is that when my partner in crime, Landon, who has been in a few of my drunken shenanigan stories, and a source of inspiration for the term "hobo cockblocking", started a blog this week, I was slightly annoyed. I assumed it would be a piece of shit, and suck worse than a toothless Bangkok whore. I was pleasantly surprised that it is hilarious (way more so than the cancer kid's dead pony) and well-written. Check out his blog, and you'll love it like a pirate loves rum!

BAM!

As much as I may try, I will never forget the day George Bush, Dick Cheney and Condi Rice were contestants on “Top Chef”.

You may or may not have seen the show- it’s one of a slew of new ”reality” contest shows on cable television. They start with a dozen professional chefs, and each week they get them all together in a big studio kitchen facility and give them a limited amount of time to make a specific type of meal. At the end of each show the loser gets kicked off, and everyone else comes back and tries again next week. The point is to be the last person standing once everyone else has been eliminated. It’s sort of like serving as a cabinet member in the first Nixon or Reagan Administrations, except that in this case the contestants all have large, sharp knives. Well, ok, so it’s a lot like serving in the first Reagan Administration...

Anyway, some numbwit in the Press Office thought it would be a great idea to have George, Dick and Condi do the show. I guess the thinking was that once your poll numbers hit the low thirties, almost any publicity is good publicity as long as it doesn’t involve video of you burning pictures of the Pope or strangling live kittens. It’s a good theory, but as it always seems to, reality reared its ugly head and took a big bite.

“Sounds like fun,” George said to me when I told him about it, digging a “Kiss the Cook” baseball cap out of his desk drawer and sticking it on his head. “As long as they don’t want us to cook anything French. That wouldn’t be right. It would be wrong. And anyway, French food is over-hype-enated. Did you know there is no word in French for ‘hors d’oeuvre’ ”?

We arrived at the set shortly before lunch.

Dick immediately made a beeline for the table with the biggest knives and wrapped his arms around it. When Condi approached he hissed at her. She took up a station across from him, and the two of them stood there, brandishing their Wustoffs and glaring at each other.

George ambled over to a table near the bank of stainless-steel-fronted refrigerators, and then started rummaging through one of them, looking for a snack.

The floor director got the cameras rolling, and Emeril, who was acting as a special guest host, ran onto the set and shook hands all around. “I’m so glad to be here!” he burbled. “I’m so glad to see all you fine folks here!” He turned to the camera. “We’re gonna do some hot cooking tonight, boy, and just when you think we’re done...” he wound up his face and then delivered, at full volume, his trademark exclamation- “BAM!!!”

Poor Emeril... George and Dick immediately dove for the floor in a shower of clattering pots and pans as six secret service agents sprang from the rafters, guns waving. Two of them gang-tackled Emeril while a third jumped on Condi. After they got things sorted out, and George and Dick got out from under their tables, and we pried the secret service agent off Condi (he seemed reluctant to release his grip), things settled down and they started taping.

For this special episode they had a chili cook-off, which was right up George, Dick and Condi’s alley. The rules were simple- they had two hours to work, and you could only use the ingredients in the kitchen. What the poor simpletons who set this up were thinking I’m not sure. Dick immediately ran over and stuffed all the beef into one large pot and took it back to his table, and then proceeded to sell Condi some of it for $50 a pound.

“Law of Supply and Demand,” I heard him say when she objected. I didn’t quite catch her reply, because at that moment George started turning on all the electric power mixers, but I think she made some sort of helpful suggestion about where he could stuff the beef.

I had to leave for a while to have lunch with Hilary Clinton and Steven Spielberg to talk about a new game show Steven is planning for Hilary called ‘Where’s Bill Now?’, and when I got back they were taping the judging segment. It seems that all three contestants had cheated. Well... now I love George, Dick and Condi like they were my twins, but I have to say- what the fuck were the producers expecting?

It seems that Dick had sent his personal bodyguards out to buy some special ingredients.

“You can’t do that!” Emeril told him. “It’s against the rules.”

“Whose side are you on?” Dick asked him, glaring and brandishing his knife. “It’s talk like that that gives aid and comfort to the enemies of America. The Paprika in the kitchen was defective, and I have evidence that the chili powder had been compromised by Al Quaeda.” He waved his knife under Emeril’s nose. “Whatever I may have done to the ingredients was done with the best interests of America in mind, and was done with the full support of our intelligence community.”

Emeril took a look at the knife, and at the two Secret Service agents looming over Dick’s shoulder, and turned to Condi.

“Now, Ms. Rice,” he began, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but the chili you made is about the worst I’ve ever tasted.”

Condi didn’t even bat an eyelash. “No, it’s not,” she said firmly.

“You put oranges in it,” Emeril said, holding up a tomato-soaked orange wedge with his fork.

“That an onion,” Condi said evenly.

“It’s an orange,” Emeril said, sniffing it and wrinkling his nose.

“It’s an onion. Are you saying I’m lying?” Condi snapped.

Emeril shook his head, “No, but-“

“Then I think we have an agreement. That is an excellent chili, isn’t it?”

“But Ms Rice-“

“Is it or isn’t it? It either is or it is not, there is no in-between. You either believe me or you don’t. You are either with me or against me. If you agree I am not a liar, then you also have to agree that my chili is the best you have ever tasted.” Condi folded her arms and sat back, a small smile playing across her face. Emeril blanched and turned to George.

“Mr President,” he began.

“Call me George,” George said, graciously.

Emeril nodded. “George. Well, George, Mr. President, sir, I couldn’t help but notice that your chili came in a container marked ‘Big Al’s –Houston’s Best Chili’, and that it was brought in by a Secret Service courier about ten minutes ago.”

“So what?” George asked.

“But that’s against the rules, Mr. President,” Emeril said.

”But I’m the President,” George said. “However it got here, that’s the President’s chili, and if I say it’s mine, nobody can say it’s not. I have the power, in time of war, to make chili any way I see fit. That’s good chili, American chili. It’s not French chili, it’s my chili, and it’s all right because I say it is. The American people want a strong President, and a good chili, and that’s what I gave them.”

George smiled. “Laura and me, we always watch your show,” he said. “Could you do that ‘Bam’ thing you do again?”

Emeril frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

George started to look pouty. “But I’m the President. If I ask you, you have to.”

“Bam,” Emeril said softly.

“No, no, you know, the way you usually yell it.”

Emeril shrugged, looked around, and then let it go at full throttle-

“BAM!”

This time when the Secret Service agents gang-tackled him they dislocated his shoulder, which pretty much brought the proceedings to an end. The good news is that Emeril is not going to sue us. The other good news is that I made a few phone calls and was able to make sure the episode would never air, not that the producers needed much persuading.

“I thought that went real well,” George said in the limo on the way back to the White House, “I like that Emeril fella, he seems like good people.”

George leaned back. “BAM!!” he suddenly shouted. Condi jumped and George grinned.

“Gotcha!” he said proudly.

They say that when your poll numbers crater, any publicity is good publicity, and it may be true, but then again, the person who said that may never have worked for George and Dick and Condi.

BAM!!

It's Always Hump Day for Tainted-Love

Just before the Garden of Eden officially opened for business, God approached Adam and Eve.
"Hey guys", said God, "I'm about to light the fuse on this whole Creation thing, and I just have a few details to iron out with you two regarding men and women."
"Shoot," said Eve.
"Yeah, go ahead,"said Adam.
"Well," said God, "here's the thing. I've been thinking about it, and I've come up with this: there should be some key differences between the two of you, otherwise I should have just made one, know what I mean?"
"Sounds reasonable," said Adam.
"Sure does," said Eve.
"OK, so I've come up with a list here. Who wants to be stronger?"
"I'll be stronger," said Adam.
"Fine with me," said Eve.
"OK," said God, crossing 'strength' off his list "who wants to be able to bear children?"
"I want that, too," said Adam.
"Hey-that's not fair!" said Eve.
"She's right," God said, crossing 'childbearing' off his list. "You got one, so she gets one. It's only fair."
"Whatever," said Adam, sullenly.
"OK, which one wants the ability to pee standing up?" God asked.
"Oooooh!!! Mememememe!!!!!" Adam raised his hand and jumped up and down. Eve rolled her eyes.
"OK, it's all yours," God said, crossing off 'pee standing up' from his list.
"Ha!" Adam said to Eve. "Do you know how cool this is gonna be? I can pee anywhere I want. I don't have to worry about ever finding a bathroom. It's gonna be awesome! I rule! You suck!!!"
"OK, Eve," said God, checking off the last item on his list. "That leaves 'multiple orgasms' to you."

Hump Day Jokes

A visiting professor at the University of Montana is giving a seminar on the supernatural. To get a feel for his audience, he asks, "How many people here believe in ghosts?" About 90 students raise their hands.

"Well that's a good start," says the professor, "Out of those of you who believe in ghosts, do any of you think you've ever seen a ghost?" About 40 students raise their hands.

"That's really good," continues the professor, "I'm really glad you take this seriously. Has anyone here ever talked to a ghost?" 15 students raise their hands.

"That's a great response," remarks the impressed professor, "has anyone here ever touched a ghost?" Three students raise their hands. "That's fantastic. But let me ask you one question further... Have any of you ever made love to a ghost?" asks the professor. One student in the back raises his hand.

The professor is astonished. He takes off glasses, takes a step back, and says, "Son, all the years I've been giving this lecture, no one has ever claimed to have slept with a ghost. You've got to come up here and tell us about your experience." The redneck student replies with a nod and begins to make his way up to the podium. The professor asks, "Well, tell us what it's like to have sex with a ghost."

The student replies, "Ghost?!?" Dang, I thought you said ‘‘goats.’’

~*~*~*~

Once there was a little boy in church. He had to go to the bathroom so he told his mother, ''Mommy, I have to piss.''

The mother said, ''Son don't say piss in church. Next time you have to piss, say, 'whisper' because it is more polite.

The next Sunday, the little boy was sitting by his father this time, and once again, he had to go to the bathroom.

He told his father, ''Daddy I have to whisper.''

The father said, ''OK. Here, whisper in my ear.''

~*~*~*~

Three blondes were taking a walk in the country when they came upon a line of tracks.

The first blonde said, "Those must be deer tracks!"
The second blonde said, "No, stupid, anyone can tell those are rabbit tracks!"
The third blonde said, "No, you idiots, those are horse tracks!"
They where still arguing ten minutes later when a train hit them.

~wicked hump day love for all~

HEY MA, LOOK AT ME!

Everyone's Doing It
Since the world seems to be doing, Malach wants to show you what search phrase people use to find this site. Now, this blog generates most of those searches, but De Pope has started to bring some of this in too, as well as other stuff. Well here it goes:

gay porn podcast: I assume this has to do with The Murk and Malach Show's interview of C.Rag and Angryman
fidel castro pussy: Yeah, Hojo is Communism, you make the connection.
pope benedict eating babies nazi: that's all you Pope
boy gay sex: That's probably you too Pope
fire school of ministry: FIRE!
fat guys in dresses: Hey Piper, it's your fan club
lamerme english translation and tall wemans revenge comix: Yeah spelling and congnitive thought is not the typical WoWees strong suit
black mother fuckers: No clue
bugs biting guy cock: There are several versions of this one
my no-no place daddy: Yeah, you haven't yet found the secret Third Option child
porn pages?
girdle love: Hmmmm
wonder girls want to fuck with boss: Again, HMMMM
mans skirts stories: they love the Angry Piper
boneprone soft17: What?
latinos women get naked at drunk parties: Toyita, they are calling you!
bitch tits: this makes me laugh
how to shave vagaina: Again spelling . . .
brandi love spermshack: And who doesn't
died from a fart: Busted!
funbags jugs: Malach prefers sweater cows
prettyhotbabes hereistheporn: Another secret Third Option page?
women of chad: C. Rag, they are listening
does mitt romney fart: OH BOY DOES HE EVER!
gorgeous malach: Why of course
hump comics crumb: Hey Crumb they miss you
i want local pussy.com: try Craigslist
jen and hojo pregnant: Hojo, is there something you need to tell us?
john mark karr i love him: you have some problems
malach abortion: Where did they find that out?
piper is a ass: Wow, they know you buddy
sexually spooning my aunt: And the secret Third Option incest page
why won't god or jesus talk to me and help me to become what they want of me: Ask the Pope.
very old grandma sex: yet another secret page
ago long leaders china's were and e with starts word what what word starts with e and were china's leaders long ago china: wow . . .
definition of tulumptuous: someone want to tackle this in the comments.
what happens to spiders after sucking them up with a vacuum cleaner:HAHAHAHAHA
did you know that jesus was jewish: this is why you come here
i heart big balls: Hmm, Tshirt?
well endowed penis podcast: That is Malach all the way!
box waft: PU!
cats and the smell of old spice: That's gotta be Mike
fake brick cocaine recipe: Mike too
itchy flaky crust on testicles: Why do people come here for medical advice
snookums is cleaning his pipe in her tight water hole: interesting

Now, that is only a small sample from the past 6 months, and don't get me wrong we get plenty of normal search phrases.

GO SOX!

I am Malach, de gorgeous!

A Night at Silent Hill

Silent Hill 2 was one of the sacriest games I ever played. I don't care if you've never played it. This is fucking hilarious.

Kinda makes you wish you finished the game, eh Murk ol' boy?



Incredible respect for the guy who put this together.

What the Hell has happened to Red Sox Nation?

But first.
The first rule of Waffle House Fight Club is talk about Waffle House Fight Club with everyone you know, the more media the better.

And something to intensify Palmer's Phobias.

The Pink Hats
This is not the Red Sox Team I grew up with. This is not my father's Red Sox Team. This is not my Grandfather's Red Sox Team (who never experienced a championship in his 70+ year life). This is not the same Red Sox Nation, the fatalistic, Curse of the Bambino, their killin' my summah whiners. Where have they gone? They have been replaced by pink hatted blonde bomb shell (who fit better in those old Fenway Seats anyway).

Gone are the suicides after a errror to lose a game on a stupid or 10th inning homer. Gone is the live every game like it's the last game of the World Series attitude. Gone are the riots after a big win that kills someone in the streets of Boston. Look at J. D. Drew. He comes here we are expecting big things, he has the worst season of his life, yet, he still lives. This would not have happened prior to 2004. What's this, good pitching? Gone are the days of big sluggers on mediocre relief or "closer by committee".

What happened to the Curse? Well evidently the Yankees now have it, and by some of the things that happened in yesterday's game, so is Cleveland (CLEVELAND ROCKS, CLEVELAND ROCKS). Have you ever seen Drew Carey cry.

We no longer fear the Yankees, we no longer feel we are going to give it away with 1 out and 1 strike away from a Championship.

I kind of like it.

And to make things even more surreal, the Patriots have become almost obscene, I actually felt bad for their competition for the first time ever. Is it possible that the Sox win the Series, Pats win the Superbowl, Celtics win the Title, the lowly Bruins win the Cup, and BOSTON COLLEGE WINS A NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP all within a year of each other.

The Pats won their first the year my son was born, The Pats and Sox won in 2004, the year my daughter was born, well, got no kids on the way this year, that I know of . . .

I am Malach and I am cured.

Thanks to Preposterous Ponderings!

Who is that?
Well it seem PrePon was quick and caught our old Angry Piper at his weird Star Wars Convention for Anme Fairymen. Check this pic she sent me!

So, now we know where he goes on the weekend.

I am Malach exposing all the WoWees!

Job Opportunities-

I was in my White House basement office eating a bag of hot sulphur chips and bullshitting with Hillary on the phone, when there was a soft knock on the door. I hastily hung up and a second later Dick Cheney entered without waiting to be asked. He poured himself a scotch from the bar, took a long sip, and then sat down in one of the leather office chairs.

Sure, I thought. Go ahead, act like you own the place. Then it occurred to me that this was the White House and he actually did own the place.

“I wanted to talk to you about careers,” Dick said slowly. “Don’t you think it’s time to move on to better things?”

I may not be a Vice President in Hell or anything, but I got my Demon First Class badge a few years ago, I’m upper management now, and I didn’t think it was any of Dick Cheney’s business telling me when a job I'm on was done. Besides, I serve a higher (well, ok, lower) Authority. I told Dick all that in a way that may have been a bit more dramatic than I really intended.

“You misunderstand me,” he said hastily, looking down at the scorch marks on his lapels with some annoyance. “I meant me. It’s time I moved up.”

“You want us to call in George Bush’s contract so you can take his job?” I asked. “That’s highly irregular. It still has more than a few years to go.”

“No, no, I don’t want to be President,” Dick said scornfully. “I think my record is deserving of bigger, better things. I was wondering, um, just what the qualifications for your line of work might be?”

I was surprised. I knew that quite a few people hoped Dick Cheney would go to Hell, but it never occurred to me that he might want to come on down himself. I mean, sure, he’s signed a contract with us and all, but to be quite frank, Dick has always struck me as the type who’ll try as hard as he can to wiggle out of it on a technicality at the last minute. I opened my drawer and took out his folder.

“Well, you’re certainly qualified,” I said. “You supported the Vietnam War while refusing to go yourself, in Congress you voted against sanctioning South Africa for apartheid, as Secretary of Defense you directed the invasion of Panama, you were CEO of Halliburton, you picked yourself as George W. Bush’s running mate, you’ve sold your country’s energy policy to your friends in the big oil companies, tried your best to create an “Imperial Presidency” which doesn’t have to answer to Congress or the courts, you used lies and falsehoods to start a disastrous war in Iraq which has ended up only benefiting your own corporate interests and friends, you’re a vulture, a liar, a hypocrite, a mass-murderer, and-” I flipped the page, “you shot a lawyer in the face. Well, we’ll give you a mulligan on that one.”

I put the folder back. “As you know, you’re coming down anyway, as stated in the contract you signed with us, but I’d be more than happy to put in a good word and see if we can get you a commission in Hell’s Cadre of Demons.”

Dick shook his head impatiently. “I think I’m more than “cadre” material,” he said roughly. “With a resume like that, I was thinking upper management.”

I had an unsettling thought.

“You’re saying you want my job?”

Dick looked at me, his lips curling into that slight smile that so reminds me of the look on Hannibal Lechter’s face when he’s getting the fava beans out of the cupboard for a dinner guest-

“Dear me, no,” he said softly. I don’t want your job. Taking orders is boring. I want to give the orders.”

The realization hit me hard enough to make little wisps of smoke come out of my nostrils. Of course Dick Cheney didn’t want to be a mere Demon. As usual, he was playing the all-or-nothing game. Dick wanted to usurp Satan himself!

I said nothing, but nodded slowly. Dick’s little smile turned into a grin and he put his scotch down, stood up and walked out the door without saying another word. He didn’t need to. If it had been anyone else I’d have laughed in his face, but Dick...?

I just hope it doesn’t come down to choosing sides, because in a contest between Dick Cheney and Satan to see who's more qualified to run Hell, I’m not really sure who’d win.

Hump Day Jokes

A man with a fifty inch penis goes to the doctor complaining that he can't get any women. The doctor says, 'Well, I can't help you, but I know a witch doctor who can'. So the man goes to see the witch doctor, and the witch doctor tells the man to go to the lake, and that when he gets there, he will see a magic frog. All he has to do is ask the frog to marry him. When the frog says 'no', his penis will shrink ten inches.

So, the man goes to the lake and sees the frog. 'Frog,' the man says, 'will you marry me?' 'No!' says the frog. Suddenly, his penis was only forty inches long.

Well, that's good, but I need it shorter, the man thinks to himself. Once again, he asks the frog, and his penis shrinks ten inches. Now he is down to thirty inches. That's pretty good, but it could be a little shorter, he thought. So the man asks the frog to marry him, and in a furious rage the frog answers ' for the last time! NO! NO! NO!'

~*~*~*~

A guy walked into a bar with a pet alligator by his side. He put the alligator up on the bar and turned to the astonished patrons. "I'll make you a deal. I'll open this alligator's mouth and place my genitals inside. Then the gator will close his mouth for one minute. He'll then open his mouth and I'll remove my unit unscathed. In return for witnessing this spectacle, each of you will buy me a drink."

The crowd murmured their approval. The man stood up on the bar, dropped his trousers, and placed his privates in the alligator's open mouth. The gator closed his mouth as the crowd gasped. After a minute, the man grabbed a beer bottle and rapped the alligator hard on the top its head. The gator opened his mouth and the man removed his genitals, unscathed as promised. The crowd cheered and the first of his free drinks was delivered.

The man stood up again and made another offer.''I'll pay anyone $100 who's willing to give it a try." A hush fell over the crowd. After a while, a hand went up in the back of the bar. "I'll try,'' said a small woman, ''but you have to promise not to hit me on the head with the beer bottle."

~*~*~*~

One day a blonde finds out from her friend that her boyfriend is cheating on her. So one day she goes out to the mall and buys a gun. After that she goes to her boyfriend's house. She busts down the door and points the gun at her head.

"What are you doing?'' says her boyfriend.

"Shut up! You're next!"

~wicked hump day love~

A Special T-Shirt just for Horatio

Based on Sunshine 63
Hex and Malach the Merciless present you:

Sunshine 63: Completely trustworthy Candidate
by

Malach

Get this custom shirt
at Zazzle

I am Malach and enjoy wearing that to you next political rally.

fable from the sufi:

A man who had studied much in the schools of wisdom finally died in the fullness of time and found himself at the Gates of Eternity.

An angel of light approached him and said, "Go no further, O mortal, until you have proven to me your worthiness to enter intoParadise!"

But the man answered, "Just a minute now. First of all, can you prove to me this is a real Heaven and not just the wishful fantasy of my disordered mind undergoing death?"

Before the angel could reply, a voice from inside the gates shouted:

"Let him in-he's one of us!"

pre-hump day humor

Sign You Are Addicted To Blogging

This picture needs few words.LOL

Does it remind you of anyone?

The Daily Narcissist Goes to the Movies

I've been able to see a few movies in the last week or so. I've already talked about Into the Wild, which I liked very much. 3 swipes of the cat tail for that one.


We also saw 3:10 to Yuma which was really, really good! I happen to like Westerns and I'm a huge fan of Christian Bale and Russell Crowe. It was also nice to see Peter Fonda again, all grizzled and chewing up the scenery. Fantastically well acted, realistic and believable, and a few nice plot twists, which I always enjoy. I appreciate it when the director can pull one over on me.

I didn't realize the movie was based on an Elmore Leonard story until the end credits; no wonder the plot was so interesting! 4 swipes of the cat tail. Yeah, I thought it was a perfect movie. If you like a really well done drama and Westerns, go see it.


Beatle haters, turn away now. I finally caught Across the Universe, a movie musical using Beatles songs, directed by Julie Taymor. She did "The Lion King" on Broadway, and seems to like to use big, cool-looking puppets. I was excited about this movie, of course, as I'm crazy for the Beatles and I'm always curious about how people play with that music. I knew nothing about the movie. Well, I have to just give it 2.5 swipes of the cat tail. Let me explain... I hate love stories. They bore me to tears. I'm just not into them (am I the only woman on the planet like that?). And a love story between very young people is at the heart of the movie. Double bleah. I can see why teenage girls are driving up the attendance to this movie.

The actors also sang, and they were all quite talented. Standouts for me were good old Joe Cocker doing "Come together". He did the song as different characters, my very favorite being a purple and green clad pimp - that made me laugh out loud.


There was a gospel version of "Let It Be" that gave me the chills. Wow... And finally, Dana Fuchs played a rock singer named Sadie, and she was awesome. And hot. I love rock and roll chicks. I'll feature her on Sheik Yerbouti Friday. I actually enjoyed all the music.

As you might expect with Taymor, visually it was interesting, but a little too "clean" for me. Everything was just worked over to the nth degree. There was an anti-war message also, but it was so antiseptic and overly artful that I thought it lost any impact it could have had. I dunno...maybe it's because my memories of the 60s are much dirtier and smelly than how they were portrayed in this movie. My favorite part visually was actually the closing credits. Filmed underwater, it was tricked out to look like an acid trip or one of those coffee-house light shows that some of us might remember



I finally saw Eastern Promises with Naomi Watts, who I think is a really fine actress, along with my Viggo. 3.5 swipes of the cat tail. Why not 4? Well, director David Cronenberg is well known for his in-your-face use of violence, and this movie was no exception. Having read interviews of his, I get why he does it, but I can't take it and there were 3 times during the movie when I had to cover my eyes with my hands. Really interesting story, again with plot twists - yeah! - and outstanding acting. And, of course, it had Viggo (naked), who just gets better and better. Did I mention that Viggo was naked?

What's that you say? None of the photos below are from the movie? Does it really matter?

Kissing the hand of peace activist Cindy Sheehan. Lucky!!!

This one ought to just finish you off...

More Fuggin's Plugs

The New C.R.AM Podcast
Third Option Media is proud (?) to announce a new podcast added to your podcast's directory. With their very first show . . .. The C.R.AM Podcast! C.R.AM stars the lovable C.Rag and squeezable Angryman . . . hopefully there will be more to come.

You can link the mp3 directly from this link. And warning, these show are RATED MATURE! I am talking to you Hojo!

The Little Prince

I am Christopher Morris, Creator of Meet the Heroes. I am also one of the founding members of Chicken Moon and we invite you to sample our latest attempt at defining the sequence of human life called, The Little Prince. Please watch:



It is a comment on the generations born follwowing the nineteen sixties up until about 1989, a number, another summer, get down to the sound of a funky drummer. So, feel free to analyze the culture and subtext of the movie. Unlike most amateur productions, we aren't going to spell it out for you with words and graphic symbolic icons. You must use your brain people.

Christopher

Busy day at the WoW

So, I just got a plug
The Murk and Malach Show Podcast, show 16 is now up. So, most of you are expecting part 2 of the CRAM show (C.Rag and Angryman), well no, this is the lost podcast, our podcast from March of 2007, the one in which Dr. Murk was "killed". Malach found it snooping around the Third Option Media FTP. I analyzed it an made some comments over the podcast to see if we can solve this killing. The podcast itself is fun, we discuss perfomance enhancing drugs, take a call from the Cap'n, of course make fun of the Angry Piper, and have a exclusive pre running for president Mitt Romney interview. Something for all sides of the family. You can link the mp3 file directly here.

Enjoy this one!

I am Malach and I drove the stake.

No Longer the Noble Nobel

Today, the committee that awards the Nobel Peace Prize announced the newest winner: Albert Arnold Gore, Jr.

Now, when they announced that James Earl (Jimmy) Carter, Jr. had won the 2002 prize... I thought it tarnished the award. Now, with Al "THE PLANET HAS A FEVER" Gore receiving the prize, I think it has entirely discredited the award. It has gone the way of the Oscar to become nothing more than a cheap political statement.

I mean, Al "Where your heart is, there's your treasure also" Gore and good ole' Jimmy share the prize with Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King, Jr., Muhammad Yunus (a man who has helped millions come out of extreme poverty), Elie Wiesel, UNICEF, The Red Cross, the IAEA... these latter people are all ones who have done great things for peace in the world.

All Al "I took the initiative in creating the Internet" Gore has done was make a mediocre propaganda film, passed it as a Documentary (a very loose term to get an Oscar these days), and try to convince everybody that the sky is falling.

And, in the midst of this, scientists have called his conclusions faulty, judges have determined the film to be partisan and biased--yet people still think this man should be President of the United States???

Give me a break people.

I once thought the Nobel Peace Prize was an amazing accomplishment and honor. I thought it recognized people who had promoted peace and prosperity in the world. But, to my uttermost sadness, I am discovering that it is nothing more than a way for a small group of people to make partisan statements.

Jimmy Carter and Al Gore only got the million bucks and a gold coin because they whined about politics... and happened to please a small group of liberal activists known as the Nobel Prize committee.

Very sad. Very sad indeed.

That is all.

Horatio

Dear Ron Paul supporters

Recently, your zombie-horde internet tactics resulted in a complete nullification of the already marginal usefulness of the CNBC online poll of the Republican debate. This caused a series of events that culminated in the editor feeling the need to put out an open letter to you all explaining why they felt the need to stop the madness.

He had his say, but really he only spoke for a minority. I have decided it is my duty to speak for the rest of us who have endured your stench these last few months on the internet...

Congratulations, you have successfully moved me away from ambivalence about your candidate. It used to be that I cared little for his positions but lacked any real internal combustion regarding him as a candidate. You have all changed that for not only myself but I suspect everyone else who isn’t YOU.

You have tainted the internet worse than anything possible from the best efforts of the deepest oubliettes of 4chan. You have turned sites like Digg and Wikipedia and endless lists of online discussion forums into a frothing vat of your political semen like a bukkake party the size of Manhattan.

Your endless, mindless and unimaginative boosting makes Rush Limbaugh ditto heads look like a bunch of fucking Rhodes Scholars. Your insane fanaticism is repulsive, disgusting and most of all is as a annoying as a mosquito perched happily on the small of my back joyously sucking my life blood safe in the knowledge that I can’t swat it.

So now I have gradated from mere ambivalence to outright hatred for you and your candidate.

I would rather be punched in the nuts than see your guy get elected.

I would see this country burn to ash and the soil sown with Ann Coulter’s menstrual drippings, and all the puppies and kittens roasted alive to feed the gluttonous belly of Dick Cheney than suffer one instant with your candidate sitting on the PoUS chair.

I would rather mix my own shit with broken glass and vinegar and eat it out of Rosanne Bar’s vagina while having my testicles peeled with a cheese grater than vote for your candidate.

I would rather see George W. Bush get elected for a third term than see your guy in the oval office.

Fuck you. And please for the love of God shut up already. We all hate you. We hate you. We fucking hate you.

God DAMN, but we fucking hate you.

Turkish Delight

State of Denial features the continuing adventures of one of Satan’s loyal minions, a demon assigned to duty at the White House.

-

I was in Iowa drawing mustaches on Hillary Clinton posters with Michelle Malkin when my cellphone rang. It was Dick Cheney. He wanted me back at the White House immediately.

“And I mean now” he snarled. OK, I couldn’t let that one pass.

“Or you’ll do what, exactly?” I asked.

“Oh.” Silence. “Well, I mean, could you please get here as soon as possible?”

I could almost hear Dick grinding yet more enamel off his teeth as he said that. I know baiting him is evil but, hey, I’m evil. Sue me.

I made a dinner date with Michelle for next Thursday, kissed her goodbye and knocked my cloven hoofs together three times. The next instant I was in the Oval Office, wafts of sulfur steaming from my horns. George and Dick were there. Dick looked flushed and upset, George was playing Halo 3 at his desk, his eyes fixed on the screen, making soft bam! bam! sounds with his mouth. In other words, everything was normal. I smiled graciously at Dick.

“Yes?”

“The fucking Congress needs to be stopped!” Dick snarled. “They’re about to screw up our entire foreign policy by voting to condemn the Turkish genocide of the Armenians after the First World War!”

“So?”

“So!?!?” Dick’s face turned that interesting shade of purple it sometimes does. I swear to God (oh, give me a break, it’s an expression) that can’t be healthy.

“The Turks are bullshit. They’ve withdrawn their ambassador. We need them on our side to stabilize fucking Iraq. This can’t happen!”

I shrugged. “Well, it was a genocide. I know the demon who was in charge of it.”

“WHO THE FUCK CARES ABOUT GENOCIDE?!?!” Dick’s face went from purple to green. I’d never seen that before. I briefly wondered if Dick was perhaps going to come join us earlier than his contract called for.

“Can I bomb Iran now?” George interrupted.

Dick whirled around and cuffed him across the head. George frowned and went back to his video game. Dick took three deep breaths.

“I. Do. Not. Care. About. What. The. Turks. Did. 90. Years. Ago.” He said slowly. “You are talking about human rights and ethics. I am talking about American fucking FOREIGN POLICY!!” He was shrieking again.

“You don’t care about human rights?”

“FUCK NO!!!”

That blast startled George, who looked up from his game. I turned to him.

“America apparently doesn’t care about human rights, Mr. Decider,” I said, my voice dripping innocence. “Don’t get me wrong, that’s fine with me, I don’t care much about them either. But, just so I’m clear, remind me again why you invaded Iraq?”

George started to say something, then stopped, puzzled. He turned to Dick.

“Why did we invade Iraq?”

OK, now, did any of you watch the old Looney ‘Toons cartoons, where Elmer Fudd’s head expands to three times it’s normal size and smoke comes out his ears? Dick’s head did that. I was very impressed. That man has a bright future in Hell.

“I don’t want to talk about Iraq,” he gasped. “We need to do something about Congress”.

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like change their votes. Call in their contracts!”

“You’d be surprised how few contracts Satan has with Congressmen,” I told him. “Sure, we have some, but the Big Game is Presidential Candidates. I’ve got every one of them except Obama, Edwards and Kucinich.”

George looked up. “Can we bomb them?” he asked.

“Bomb who?” Dick muttered, annoyed at the interruption.

“Congress. If I can’t bomb Iran, can I bomb Congress?”

Dick looked at me.

“Can he?”

I shrugged. “Up to you. Satan has no opinion on the matter. He’s in charge of Hell down below, but you’re free to create whatever Hell you want to up here.”

A smile began to creep over Dick’s face. “Yeah!” he said. “YEAH!”

He barged by me to grab the telephone on George’s desk. “Get me the Joint Chiefs of Staff!” he bellowed into it.

George shrugged disinterestedly and went back to his video game. I ducked out the side door. It looked as if Dick had things under control again, and if I hurried, Michelle wouldn’t be done with her magic markers...

Hump Day Joke

An old man was sitting on a bench at the mall. A young man walked up to the bench and sat down. He had spiked hair in all different colors: green, red, orange, blue, and yellow.

The old man just stared.

Every time the young man looked, the old man was staring.

The young man finally said sarcastically, "What's the matter old timer, never done anything wild in your life?"

Without batting an eye, the old man replied, "Got drunk once and had sex with a peacock. I was just wondering if you were my son."

~wicked hump day love on the run~

POPE SIGHTING!!!

As many of you regulars know, The Pope is somewhat of a fixture around here, and has even been on The Murk and Malach Show. He also feels that one day, this fine blog will be "The Wand Of Jesus." Anyway, I came across this picture and felt that it needed to be displayed. It brings a whole new meaning to that bible verse "thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.."

The Murk and Malach Show CRAM podcast part 1

Yes, WoWees, it is up.
Another classic podcast from Murk and Malach. Show 15 is up and we call it the CRAM podcast, why CRAM? C.Rag and Angryman of course, talk to us live via sattelite. And this one is funny. Very mature with sexual references, profanity, and racism abounds. Hear Dr. Murk go off on fellow WoWee Mike, hear C.Rag call out the Sub Saharan Continent, hear Angryman talking about killing all Vietnamese People, hear Malach, well just be Malach. Listen to this one, but not safe for work, children, or church. Also, enjoy CRAM theme song, specially picked by Malach from you Animefreaks! You can link directly to the mp3 here, and with the beauty of snapshots, you can play it from the popup.

What you say? CRAM podcast 1? Why yes, there is a part two . . . worse than this one coming soon.

I am Malach and I am just Malach

HI!

Days are the sunniest
Jokes are the funniest
Rabbits are the bunnyiest
Hives are the honeyiest
Elephants are the tonniest
Troubles - they're the none-iest

Everywhere I go!

Straws are the bendiest
Time is the spendiest
Cards are the sendiest
Books are the lendiest
Fun is the pretendiest
Friends are the friendliest

Everwhere I go!

Berriest are the fruitiest
Shoes are the bootiest
Puppies are the cutiest
Treature is the lootiest
Teams are the rootiest
Horns are the tootiest

Everywhere I go!

Birds are the tweetiest
Candy is the sweetiest
Socks are the feetiest
Tricks are the treatiest
Drums are the beatiest
Lunch is the eatiest

Everyhwere I go!

Flowers are the smelliest
Jams are jelliest
Rain's the umbrelliest
Tales are the telliest
Wishing is the welliest
Buttons are the belliest


Everwhere I go!

Skies are the bluiest
Cows are the mooiest
Gum is the chewiest
Ghost are the booiest
Goo is the gooeyiest
You can be your youiest

Everywhere I go!

Unicorn Fantasy

As many of you know from my introduction, I fucking love unicorns. I am somewhat ashamed to say this music video, of great production quality, had escaped my notice for a long time. I share it with you, much like a crack addict shares a beloved crack rock with a non-addict to try to hook them in hopes they will also become an addict.