Dear Lady Gaga,
I seen that meat dress you were wearing. If you like meat so much, then how about a bone?
Fuck PETA. PETA can kiss my goddam ass. She was wearing a dress made out of beef, not panda or goddam albatross. Who's to say that meat wasn't cooked up and eaten after the VMAs? Who's to say it wasn't I, Mick Aloha, who ate it? Who's to say I didn't eat that meat and then make out with Lady Gaga? She's probably the one to say that, and that's why I'm goddam pissed.
See, I have a theory. Have you seen that goddam movie with Jodie Foster where she switches bodies with a prostitute with a heart of gold and ends up an FBI agent on an airplane where her daughter disappeared and then she ends up in some ridiculous goddam room with no escape routes? Yeah, it reminds me of that movie. That guy who likes to keep girls in wells and tuck his junk is trying to use the skin of fat-ass girls to make his own girly skin or some shit like that. I can't remember, really. I seen that back in high school, and if you'd wrecked your truck and taken as many blows to the head as I have, you wouldn't remember a goddam thing. So, I think Lady Gaga wants to be a cow. It's ok, Lady Gaga. Mick Aloha doesn't mind. Get your cow on and all that. Cow-abunga, Lady Gaga. Wanna make out?
Before you say it, shut up. I know you're wondering why I want to make out with Lady Gaga. I know she's gross. But, let me be clear; I'd make out with pretty much any girl who didn't have a mustache. Actually, one night I made out with all kinds of girls who didn't have mustaches. Best night of my life. Worst night of my life? Same night.
So, Lady Gaga, I know it's tough being a celebrity and crazy, so here's an idea; put on that meat dress (or better yet, a similar dress with fresher cuts), and then get your hottest lady friend to put on a suit of fries. Then, have your second hottest friend put on a suit of Coca-Cola. Then, all of you ladies need to get really, really drunk (at your own expense), and then give me a call and we'll see what happens. Don't worry; I can TiVo my shows. Hell, I've got my own hotel room.
OK, now on to Cher. I hear you're 64 years-old. Despite your incredible age, I have to admit I liked seeing you dressed up like in that video on the ship that I watched a few thousand times. Really, you were never that much to look at, but, well, you're doable. There, I said it. Now, I know your outfit was sexy, but do you have anything that more closely resembles a Coca-Cola? Either way, if you're looking for a man half your age, and you don't mind pretty much supporting me for the rest of my life in a good-life fashion, let me know.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
5 Ways I'm Going to Profit from the Oil Spill
Everyone's crying about these oil-covered birds. Boo-goddam-hoo. I hate goddam birds. All they do is make noise and take dumps all over the place; they're like little Apocs with wings. Back where I'm from in Kentucky, we've got these goddam crows the size of two crows. I hate them. Everyday this week I seen those oil-covered birds on TV, and every goddam time I thought How can I make money off this oil spill? I have some ideas.
1. I'll get naked and pour motor oil all over my body. Four minutes later, I'll go out on the street, preferably during some busy time like "morning" or "late afternoon," and I'll sit there staring like a goddam oil-covered bird. As soon as someone comes up I'll say, "Give me some money, dude, this oil isn't going to wash itself off." Later on, I'll send a bill to BP. They'll be so busy paying out money over the next few decades they won't even notice. I'm hoping this method also helps me pick up chicks. "If you like those goddam oil-covered birds so much, then why don't you do me?"
2. Short BP stock. I don't goddam know how to goddam do that, so fuck that idea. Fuck it with motor oil.
3. Dress up like Jesus. Tell people on the street that I'm going down to the Gulf to fix the goddam devil oil spill. Collect money from people as I go. When I reach the Gulf, I'll sidestep Anderson Cooper and Bobby Jindal and walk on the goddam water. Then, when I get to the oil I'll slip. Then, I'll sue BP. I'll also turn water into gin sours.
4. Flood my apartment with oil. File a police report and tell those goddam dirty pigs that some rough looking "teenagers" did it and as they were running away they were talking about seeing the oil spill on the news. Sue BP and Mike Judge.
5. Forget the whole goddam thing, get drunk, and go to the strip club.
Don't forget to send me money. I need the good life. My fishing business is ruined.
1. I'll get naked and pour motor oil all over my body. Four minutes later, I'll go out on the street, preferably during some busy time like "morning" or "late afternoon," and I'll sit there staring like a goddam oil-covered bird. As soon as someone comes up I'll say, "Give me some money, dude, this oil isn't going to wash itself off." Later on, I'll send a bill to BP. They'll be so busy paying out money over the next few decades they won't even notice. I'm hoping this method also helps me pick up chicks. "If you like those goddam oil-covered birds so much, then why don't you do me?"
2. Short BP stock. I don't goddam know how to goddam do that, so fuck that idea. Fuck it with motor oil.
3. Dress up like Jesus. Tell people on the street that I'm going down to the Gulf to fix the goddam devil oil spill. Collect money from people as I go. When I reach the Gulf, I'll sidestep Anderson Cooper and Bobby Jindal and walk on the goddam water. Then, when I get to the oil I'll slip. Then, I'll sue BP. I'll also turn water into gin sours.
4. Flood my apartment with oil. File a police report and tell those goddam dirty pigs that some rough looking "teenagers" did it and as they were running away they were talking about seeing the oil spill on the news. Sue BP and Mike Judge.
5. Forget the whole goddam thing, get drunk, and go to the strip club.
Don't forget to send me money. I need the good life. My fishing business is ruined.
Friday, January 15, 2010
comedy routine, hooker sensitivity, Sarah Palin
I was looking for some great content on the web the other day and came across this site. I thought, "Wow, whoever wrote this is a goddamned genius. Superb. Indeed, superb." I was about halfway through reading this great content when I realized I'm the one who wrote it. I'm so awesome I amaze myself, which is how it should be. Then I thought, "Hell, might as well give the hungry masses a new post so they'll give me some money." Then I thought, "A gin sour's sounding pretty good right about now." I got drunk and woke up in a laundromat. I don't even use the laundromat, unless I need change for the Coke machine. You know, a Coke's sounding pretty good right about now. Anyway, here's a new post. Send me money.
What have I been doing since my last post? Working on my comedy routine, that's what I've been doing. Here's the only joke I've written so far. "What do synchronized swimmers and hookers have in common? 1) They both wear too much makeup. 2) They spend a lot of time with their legs up in the air. 3) They both fuck for money." But seriously, folks. Now, I just need to write about 50 more of those, ok, more like 30 if you factor in the laughter, to get me a Comedy Central special.
Speaking of hookers, do you think they get offended when people talk about dead hookers? You know, you're at a party and you're all, "Yeah, so anyway, dude, I used my disposable income to get myself a new Ford and you should see the trunk space. Do you know how many goddamn dead...oh, uh, cats I could get in that trunk?" See, the part where you changed is where your hooker friend walked up, and although you don't care too much if you offend her or not, you'd still like to do her.
Speaking of hookers and ladies I'd like to do, how about that Sarah Palin? She's landed herself a gig over on Fox News, which just teaches you that quitting pays. Why aren't they hiring me over at Fox? They could put on 24 hours of Aloha and the ratings would go through the roof. So anyway, ol' Palin was talking to Glenn Beck and he asked her who her favorite Founding Father was and she said, "All of them." That dumb bitch uses that same goddamn answer for every question.
Interviewer: In how many buildings in Wasilla have you made sweet love to Mick Aloha?
Sarah Palin: All of them.
Interviewer: How many members of that synchronized swimming team would you like to get it on, lesbian style, with?
Sarah Palin: All of them.
Interviewer: How much money should readers be sending to Mick Aloha?
Sarah Palin: All of them.
Favorite Founding Father is a goddamn easy question. Hell, I bet even the MMD could answer that one, and he's a goddamn Canadian. Here are Mick Aloha's favorite Founding Fathers in order.
1) Benjamin Franklin
2) Ulysses S. Grant
3) Andrew Jackson
4) Alexander Hamilton
5) Abraham Lincoln (not the penny, though)
Who don't I like? Washington. Unless I'm going to the strip club.
You've heard that there are trace amounts of cocaine on each $100 bill, but what about the non-trace amounts of Aloha's fingerprint on Franklins? Aloha takes cash. Send it my way. Make me rich! If you make me rich, maybe I'll stop stressing out about getting rich and my hives will go away for good. Dehive me, fools!
What have I been doing since my last post? Working on my comedy routine, that's what I've been doing. Here's the only joke I've written so far. "What do synchronized swimmers and hookers have in common? 1) They both wear too much makeup. 2) They spend a lot of time with their legs up in the air. 3) They both fuck for money." But seriously, folks. Now, I just need to write about 50 more of those, ok, more like 30 if you factor in the laughter, to get me a Comedy Central special.
Speaking of hookers, do you think they get offended when people talk about dead hookers? You know, you're at a party and you're all, "Yeah, so anyway, dude, I used my disposable income to get myself a new Ford and you should see the trunk space. Do you know how many goddamn dead...oh, uh, cats I could get in that trunk?" See, the part where you changed is where your hooker friend walked up, and although you don't care too much if you offend her or not, you'd still like to do her.
Speaking of hookers and ladies I'd like to do, how about that Sarah Palin? She's landed herself a gig over on Fox News, which just teaches you that quitting pays. Why aren't they hiring me over at Fox? They could put on 24 hours of Aloha and the ratings would go through the roof. So anyway, ol' Palin was talking to Glenn Beck and he asked her who her favorite Founding Father was and she said, "All of them." That dumb bitch uses that same goddamn answer for every question.
Interviewer: In how many buildings in Wasilla have you made sweet love to Mick Aloha?
Sarah Palin: All of them.
Interviewer: How many members of that synchronized swimming team would you like to get it on, lesbian style, with?
Sarah Palin: All of them.
Interviewer: How much money should readers be sending to Mick Aloha?
Sarah Palin: All of them.
Favorite Founding Father is a goddamn easy question. Hell, I bet even the MMD could answer that one, and he's a goddamn Canadian. Here are Mick Aloha's favorite Founding Fathers in order.
1) Benjamin Franklin
2) Ulysses S. Grant
3) Andrew Jackson
4) Alexander Hamilton
5) Abraham Lincoln (not the penny, though)
Who don't I like? Washington. Unless I'm going to the strip club.
You've heard that there are trace amounts of cocaine on each $100 bill, but what about the non-trace amounts of Aloha's fingerprint on Franklins? Aloha takes cash. Send it my way. Make me rich! If you make me rich, maybe I'll stop stressing out about getting rich and my hives will go away for good. Dehive me, fools!
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