Posts Tagged ‘obama’

Hi, Hitler.

August 25, 2008

I recently began growing a mustache. No reason really, other than to see what I would look like as a cop, or a seventies porn star.  So without further adue here’s me with a stash.

 Fuck yeah. Evidently God gave me the gift of a semi blond colored beard which contrasts with my hair in a really nice seventies porn star way. My new name is Thomas Woodbluff (Middle name/street where I grew up), purveyor of the Playa Vista porn ring.

I’m also getting a motorcycle and signing up to be a CHIPS officer. I’m gonna grow this thing to stardom.  This mustache could make me the ruler of the earth.

Oh snap, it just did. This is me, ruler of the fascist world giving a speech at a club med convention.

I’m pretty sure Hitler ruined this type of mustache for the history of human kind. It boggles the mind to think that no other person on earth can ever rock this thing again. Except for me motherfuckers, the fascist king of porn.

Brenda!!!! Brenda!!!!! You sleep with me now!!!!


The Original Maverick

August 21, 2008

While watching the olympics tonight I was privy to seeing another one of John McCain’s triumphs in advertising. His tagline…The Original Maverick.

Being a writer I’m always intrigued by the meaning of words, and by the people who use words which most people don’t understand the meaning of. Words that sound really awesome. “Maverick” being one of them. We all know that Maverick was a Top Gun fighter pilot, that Maverick could disarm a nucleur weapon using a peice of gum and a paper clip, and that Maverick sounds like a good descriptor for James Dean. But what the hell does it really mean…

mav·er·ick (măvər-ĭk, măvrĭkpronunciation

  1. An unbranded range animal, especially a calf that has become separated from its mother, traditionally considered the property of the first person who brands it.
  2. One that refuses to abide by the dictates of or resists adherence to a group; a dissenter

The origins of this word can be tracked back to 1867, to a cattle rancher named Maverick, who was too lazy to brand his cows. Maverick thought that since most all the other cattle in Texas were branded, any cattle that weren’t branded, were automatically his. This included any and all cattle that roamed wild, or had been seperated from their mothers or herd. The other ranchers got pissed off and said, “Fuck you Maverick, this is not right.” And Maverick said, “Screw you, I’m an American, and a rancher and I can do whatever the hell I want. because I’m lazy, and because there’s a court system.”

This bullshit held up in court. Because of lawyers. Yes, there were lawyers back then. They carried guns, pissed in alleys, and shot people who didn’t agree with their hired opinions. So, now that I think about what this word means, it makes perfect sense. He was the “Original Maverick.”

John McCain is an unbranded range animal that was seperated from his mother, and could end up our next president. But most of the country will never know this. They’re just to lazy to look the word up. 

John McCain, “He is The Original Maverick.”

Oh, wait, maybe this is a statement regarding his liberal views on reincarnation.

“Oh John, you Maverick you.”

The day I almost saved the world.

August 5, 2008

I recently purchased a Delorean with the hopes of building a time machine, so that I could go back in time and breakup the coital encounter that occured between Barbara Bush and George Bush Sr. sometime in November of 1945. Technically it can’t be considered an assassination, so I think it’s a viable solution to getting rid of Bush Jr. without landing me any real jail time.  I also needed a car to drive to work so it seemed like a pretty convenient solution.

To make the time machine work I needed just a few things. 1. A Delorean 

(Thanks Ebay!)  $22, 567 seemed like a small price to pay to save the free world, and to get a sweet ride with gull-wing doors. So I bought this one straight from a seller in the San Fernando Valley. Hellz yeah. 

2. I needed a flux capacitor (which I learned is just a box with three flashing lights formed into the shape of a Y)  I found some of that clear rope type lighting that they use in weddings and middle school dances which seems to work really well. It even pulses which I think will help with the trajectory of the ions.  

3. A bolt of lightning (Now, I haven’t found one of these yet, but I’m figuring it’ll be easy enough. I can affix one of my steel golf clubs to the roof and just drive around in a rain storm, or if I’m feeling desperate I can always drive down to the Universal Studios Hollywood back lot where the original Back to the Future clock tower still stands. Plus I have a Gold Card there which means I get free admission and can bring a guest. So Brenda can come with me too.

So, here I am with everything ready to go. Delorean? Check. Flux capacitor? Check. Bolt of lightning? Hopefully check. So I get in the car to start her up. I’m ready to save the free world, ready to interrupt Barbara and George in the back seat of a Buick, and ready to go to work if I need to, and then i see this…

What the fuck! This god damn car only does 85 mph. Everyone knows that in order to achieve time travel you have to be able to do at least 88 miles per hour. Now, I’m stuck with this damn thing. Oh, wait, Ebay!

The Red Left

May 28, 2008



In the wake of the spanking post, which due to demand will now be a monthly installment, I wanted to post a note that I found laying on a sidewalk in Oakland. This note was typed, using an actual typewriter, on the back of a half torn envelope.

With the current state of the “Union”, and I use that term loosely, I’m not sure that Jerry and his anonymous vice president are bad candidates for the upcoming election. 

If Jerry and his writer friend can remove our entire government in one “fail” swoop, while being high on governmentally legalized medical marijuana, I’d be willing to vote for the guys. Shit, I’d give them a parade, or at least a high five. I’m also attracted to party lines due to the diversity of the radiant color wheel. I like color wheels. I like radiance. I like real typewriters. 

VOTE For Jerry.