Thursday, March 03, 2005

Freaks R Us

Michael Jackson is a fucking freak. I don’t understand why money persuades people to accept him as an idol. His goddamn nose is made by Rubbermaid and he coerces young cancer stricken boys to let him jack them off. Get the hell out of here.

And what’s up with the armband? The face masks are obvious, he’s hiding his umpteenth nose job. And I get the long hair and makeup. It’s gay. Duh. But the armband means what?

He should be kicked in the ass for naming his kids Prince Michael. All of them. That shit just ain’t natural. What kind of screwed up twist of fate gives Michael Jackson three boys? I bet that sick fucker has already had his hands on all three of them.

You just don’t know how loud I’ll holler when the verdict comes back guilty. Yeah, Rodney King was a travesty of justice. But so was OJ. The score is tied. Let’s finally send a freak to jail where he'll get all the butt-fucking he can stand. Damn I wish I could have been selected for that jury.

Prosecution: Juror 178, have you or anyone you known been the victim of a sexual assault?
Me: Guilty.
Prosecution: Do you foresee any problems you might have serving on this jury?
Me: Guilty.
Prosecution: Are you coming to this jury with an open-mind?
Defense: Veto, your honor.
Me: Guilty.

Speaking of freaks of nature, I was staring at my wife tonight while she sat on the couch. She had her shorts pulled down beneath her belly and her shirt pulled up high and kept saying, “Did you see that?”

“No.”

“Look at it, Jay. See?”

I looked. “No.”

This is the part where she loses patience with me. It always happens and I know its coming and yet I can’t stop myself from encouraging it.

“Come here.”

Dammit. I leave my sacred recliner and sit down next to her. She takes my hand and places it on her belly. “Feel that?”

“Nope.”

She gave me the look. I love the look. It means I’m winning. Now if I can just hold out 5 more months I’m sure I’ll wake up and realize this was all just a very bad, scary, ball breaker of a dream.