Saturday, November 19, 2011

Slow News Day Volume 4

Slow News Day Volume 4

No...No....I won't go to your camps... I won't...zzzzz.....snort....mumble...mumble...
fascist evil...zzzzzzz....zzzzz.... social adsense can bite my nutsack....
...Assholes.... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Africa To Be Divided Up Into Shirts and Skins....

A huge summit of white people convened thousands of miles from Africa to deliberate on the fate of the rich but troubled continent.

Said Harold Pink of Green Bay, who attended the conference, “I know nothing more than I see on the news. Lots of black natives with sharp sticks killing lots of black natives with sharp sticks. We hear tribe names like Zulu, Zimbabwe, and other z-type names, and apparently they don’t get along, so I suggested we divide them up into thousands of warring factions, give them different colored T-shirts, say like Zulu’s in green and gold, and then that way, the civilized world can begin to sort it out at home on their TV’s and take it from there.”

The conference felt it was a good suggestion, but the big problem was designing thousands of T-shirts that would be distinctive enough to tell one warring tribe from the other. Some would have to have polka dots, some would have to be plaid and still they need more identifying characteristics to set each warring faction apart.

Someone suggested one tribe could be skins, an idea they immediately adopted to save money. John Albino, of Ohio, a shoe salesman, suggested different styles of shoes, like one tribe could be in high-top sneakers, and another in say penny-loafers, or cowboy boots.

Then a Chicago Bulls fan who had wandered in by mistake looking for a men’s room, suggested they dye their hair bright colors like bulls player Dennis Rodman. This suggestion was immediately adopted because Dennis Rodman’s fluorescent green hair definitely stood out among other black skinned men.

Then they all got on the subject of sports and another good idea was adopted, to rename the tribes after professional football teams like the Broncos or the Saints.

“I think we made history today, said Bob from Milwaukee. “Once we can tell them apart, maybe then we can figure out why they’re so angry at each other, and who knows, maybe get them some guns.”

“What worries me,” said Beth Kranston of Texas, “is while all these tribes are warring, who’s feeding the elephants?”

A question they all pondered in silence.

I dreamt I lived in America....

Planet X to Serve Jalapeno Dip and Onion Rings at Bilderberg Orgy
By Ben Fullofit

The White and Black Dragon societies met over the weekend with the Charlie Chan Fan Club to discuss the need to pronounce L’s like L’s and not like R’s. Trirrion dorrars was arrot of money and mispronumnciation could resurt in a catastrophic misunderstanding between East and West.
Also on the agenda was Godzilla and the smog monster who were tying up traffic in Tokyo with their endless battle.
The Vatican who had just finished exchanging recipes for fresh baby with the Reptilian Queen of England were overheard discussing how tasty the baby au gratin was and how sushi baby was preferable to the Texas babyback baby.
When it came time to pick up the trillion dollar check the Pope’s head started spinning around in circles and the Queen flew off on a broom leaving the Davos forum to begrudgingly flip the bill.
Interpole met with outer pole and they went to a nearby strip club to watch sexy pole dancers who had been smuggled in from Poland. The Pole Pole dancers were hoping to intermarry with interpole and raise polite polish pole dancing interpole pollsters who took a survey on whether their tongues would stick to the North Pole and Santa said if he commented Mrs. Claus wouldn’t speak to him ever again.
China announced the new Hilton Hotel for Satanists was ready to begin taking in their evil guests but the TSA would need to gently caress their baggage.
Mr. X, who became Christian over the weekend and is now the born again King of Borneo sang born to be wild and born free and born in the usa at Karaoke night sponsored by the Bilderberg Tupperware committee. Daniele Dal Bosco sang, Born to Run.
The January 30th deadline was put off to January 29th 2050 so the red and green dragon societies could fill a hole someone had dug from Iowa to Tibet.
The Bush/Clinton Cabal surprised everyone by announcing they had the Rockefellers tied up in the basement of the Taj Majal and the jazz group Taj majal was guarding them and would poor syrup on them and tell hungry lumberjacks that they were pancakes if a trillion dollar third party post dated check wasn’t cashed by noon, central daylight savings time.
Planet X and it’s owner Mr. X were conspicuously absent from their Xmas pageant that they had rehearsed for all week. Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer was sacrificed for the Winter Solstice and the Pentagon served the ground up venison at its annual Christmas charity event where underprivileged teen-aged boys and girls were given sex with 4 star generals.
Major events will unfold as a result. Things are really heating up. Just ask any homeless man mumbling to themselves for confirmation on the secret societies that taught his dog to speak French.
Frankly I’m freaked out. They ground up Rudolph…does anyone know the implications of this if it’s foggy Christmas eve?

In the hollow of my heart in the shadow of my doubt
I softly wonder what the world is all about
in the corner of my eye I see a second coming
in the rhythm of my lifetime the beat is slowly drumming
bang bang bang goes the drum
bang bang bang goes the gun
at the depth of darkness I’m not a lonely singer
in the belfry of innocense my souls a dead ringer
in the coolness of the water my body senses numbing
breathing in the sounds an echo of the drumming
bang bang bang goes the drum
bang bang bang goes the gun
In the wake of our father I feel a certain ease
humbled by the gesture of a man upon his knees
in the strings of the universe the one’s worth strumming
are the dedicated few playing for the love of drumming
bang bang bang goes the drum
bang bang bang goes the gun
In the hour of the last I see a rain of tears
to wash away the remnants of a world so full of fear
in the symphony of forever I hear someone humming
to the tempo of the song a constant drumming…

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