Archive for May, 2012






     Gender: M     Race: W
     Hair: BROWN     Eye: HAZEL
     Height: 5′ 09     Weight: 200
     DOB: 05-21-1959     Age: 51


     No markings provided.


  Conviction Date: 10/1/2007  Victim’s Age: None Reported


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As soon as you start writing in the newspaper about people you know,

you’re suddenly in deep dog doo-doo. Two weeks ago I revealed publicly, for the first time, that Ugly-on-a-Stick was pregnant, and I haven’t had a good night’s rest since then.

Two in the morning, I get phone calls. “Joe Bob, I want you to know that I am not the daddy of that ugly little fetus, and if you say I’m the father, I’ll sue you. In fact, if you just think I’m the father, I’ll sue you. In fact, if you’re thinking right now to yourself, ‘Maybe this guy’s the father,’ then I’ll sue your hiney from here to Nairobi, Kenya.”

And then I’ll explain to em how it doesn’t matter who the daddy is, because Ugly-on-a-Stick doesn’t care who it is, and even if she did care, they have these Genetic DNA Magic Mucus test where they scrape some drool off the baby and they can tell exactly who spermatized the baby.

But that doesn’t satisfy em.

“I’ll pay any amount of money for the child’s support–baby facelift, whatever it might need–but I do not want anything in the paper about it.”

At first, I though they were all embarrassed at the idea of having a baby out of wedlock, then it hit me what it was: these men had all had actual sex with Ugly-on-a-Stick. Excuse me for a moment:


All right, I can continue now.

“It is a pretty disgusting idea,” Ugly-on-a-Stick said when I told her about the phone calls. “I sure wouldn’t wanna have sex with me. And, actually, that’s one of the best things about being me. It would be impossible for me to ever have sex with anything that ugly.”

“Chloris,” I said . . .

“Call me Ugly, Joe Bob.”

“Ugly, I’ve noticed you’re putting on a few ounces around the ribs there. Might be time to go in and get a . . .”

Fifteen minutes later, after I got really disgustingly sick from the thought of it, I finished the sentence.

” . . . a gynecology check-up.”

“I hope we can find a boy doctor this time.”

“You know better than that, Ug. All the male doctors refuse to examine you. There’s that one that worked in a Bolivian war zone, but he’s 94 now and I’m not sure it’s safe.”

“He was soooo sexy.”

“Listen, Ug, I think you’re gonna need one of those amnio-alphabet baby-scan radar videos. The deals where they take a picture of your baby while it’s still inside. That way they can tell whether it’s a normal baby or, well, you know.”

“You mean they’re still worried about a baby so ugly that he’ll kill me?”

“It’s not so much the ugliness that’ll kill you. It’s the idea of a normal eight-pound baby in your 42-pound mother’s body. If you’re lucky, maybe the baby will be, like, three ounces. Then you’ll be very safe. Otherwise, Ugly-on-a-Stick is gonna look like Soap-on-a-Rope. It’d also be a surefire way to tell whether you’re actually pregnant or whether this is what you call your hysterical pregnancy.”

“What’s a hysterical pregnancy?”

“That’s when you have sex with one of the Gonzalez brothers and you start thinking about what would happen if you were to give birth, and you get real hysterical.”

“It’s probly not that,” said Ugly.

“Why not?”

“Cause I’m uglier than all the Gonzalez brothers.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“They’re the ones that’d get hysterical.”

“They already have.”

“Let’s make a video of my amnio-alphabet,” Ugly told me. “I might want to release it in the theaters.”

“Okay, but Jack Valenti isn’t gonna like it.”

Speaking of creatures almost as grotesque as Ugly-on-a-Stick, “Puppet Master” is the first zombie-marionette movie, following in the footsteps of “Child’s Play,” last year’s Drive-In Academy Award winner about Chucky the demon-possessed doll. The idea here is that William “Icky” Hickey, the actor you hire when you want people to say “Ooooooh, he’s so oooooooold,” learns how to do Egyptian voodoo on some puppets and make them come alive. But then the Mafia comes to waste him and he has to hole em up in the wall of a hotel so nobody will find em after he’s dead.

Fifty years later and–whoops!–a crazed psychic finds the puppets and discovers the Egyptian voodoo secret and kills himself so he can come back as a zombie. This is what distinguishes “Puppet Master” from your run-of-the-mill zombie flick. Most zombie movies, people are trying to explode the heads of the zombies. This one, everybody comes to the hotel to study the zombies, like scientists. There’s a whole pack of New Age channel-changers checking in, hoping they’ll find out how to jump-start old pieces of furniture, turn it into zombie material. But meanwhile, the puppets are starting to turn mean, specially this one that looks like a pinhead bodybuilder with arms like Swift’s Premium hamhocks. The best thing about the Puppet Fu that’s about to befall every visitor to the hotel is that David Schmoeller, the drive-in director who also made “The Seduction” and “Crawlspace,” has created a special Zombie Puppet Cam that lets you see all the people die at Puppet Level! You see the beauty here? It’s one thing to say, “I wonder what it would look like if a puppet with a dentist’s drill in his head ran straight at your brain and just drilled his way right through.” But it’s another, entirely different thing when you say “What would the same thing look like if you were eight inches high and so all you could see was this enormous blood-spurting brain?”

Yeah, it’s that sick–one of the best of 89.

One breasts. Five dead bodies. Brain splattering. Head drilling. Leg drilling. Close-up finger hacking. Green blood-spitting. Blood-sucking stomach leeches. Puppet rassling. Zombie maid. Zombie dog. Extremely kinky sex. Heads roll. Fingers roll. Leech Fu (you wouldn’t believe it). Drive-In Academy Award nomination for Irene Miracle, as the white witch-lady fortune-teller, for saying “You are in great danger–do not go near the fireplace” and, to the grieving widow, “Your husband was a despicable greedy bastard”; Robin Frates, as the widow, for saying “Who are you people?”; Paul LeMat, as the sensitive Alex, for saying “I had this dream and I came here to make sure it didn’t come true”; Jimmie F. Skaggs, as the psychic zombie, for saying “I’m tired of experimenting with silly puppets” right before five puppets tear him limb from limb; and David Schmoeller, for the Puppet Cam.

Four stars.

Joe Bob says check it out.

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I’ve got this black friend… just kidding.

Why is making toast like an interracial couple having a baby?
It’s annoying when it comes out black.

How do you know Adam and Eve were not black?
You ever try to take a rib from a nigger?

What did Abe Lincoln say after a 3 day drunk?
“I set WHO free?”

Someone just knocked on the door selling raffle tickets for poor black orphans.
I said “Fuck that, with my luck I’d probably win one”

What does FUBU stand for?
Farmers Used to Beat Us -OR- Farmers Used to Buy Us

Hear about G.M.’s new nigger Cadillac?
The glove compartment’s big enough to hold a watermelon.

Did you hear that the KKK bought the movie rights to Roots?
They’re going to play it backwards so it has a happy ending.

What happens to black people after they die?
Nigger Mortis.

What repulsive thing can be found in a nigger’s clothes?
The nigger.

A Liverpool docker went to South Africa for a job. The boss tells him: “Its people like you we want here. Here’s a test. There’s a revolver, go out and shoot 6 niggers and a rabbit.” The docker asks: “Why do I have to shoot the rabbit?” He got the job.

Racism is when you run over a nigger with your truck.
Reverse-racism is when you back up.

Why don’t niggers celebrate Thanksgiving?
Kentucky Fried Chicken isn’t open on holidays.

If Tarzan and Jane were black, what would Cheetah be?
The brains of the outfit.

Why are so many niggers moving to Detroit?
They heard there were no jobs there.

What does cotton have in common with noses?
Niggers are good at picking both.

Why do niggers always have sex on their minds?
Because of the pubic hair on their heads.

What happened when the nigger looked up his family tree?
A gorilla shit in his face
What do you call a nigger in a suit?

A teacher was giving a lesson and was telling the pupils that we came from Adam and Eve. A hand went up and the kid said, “But my dad told me that we come from apes, Miss?”
Miss replied, “Stay out of this one, Leroy!”

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The late Pennsylvania Congressman John Murtha was a Capitol Hill powerhouse, and among his legacies is the federally funded airport in his district that largely served him and the local companies heading to Washington, D.C., to lobby for government contracts. (By contrast, the Pittsburgh airport is nearly 60 miles away.) Murtha died in 2010, but the airport (which cost $150 million in earmarked funds to build, upgrade and maintain) still, according to an April Yahoo News dispatch, handles only three flights a day, all from Washington, D.C., and about $100 of every passenger’s ticket is subsidized by the federal government. .


Officials in Burnsville, Minn., have brought the full force of the law to bear upon Mitch Faber (who was arrested, forced to pay a high bail, and released under electronic monitoring and only on condition of drug testing), whom they have charged with the crime of not putting proper siding on his house. According to a March report on KSTP-TV, Faber said he started re-siding, but when the economy turned bad in 2008, he stopped, assuming that the worst he could eventually suffer would be a fine.

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