Some inspiring thoughts

You know what? I was going to give you scum piles some advice on avoiding and overcoming sickness, but fuck that, you know why? Because I would much rather get back to the roots of this blog and why I started it in the first place – because all of you are an infection upon this world and need to be told so. So today, instead of an advice update, I will do one discussing the reasons why you're a piece of shit. You may be reading this thinking “lol he's gonna talk about some scumbags who aren't me and I'm gonna get a laugh” to which I say THAT MEANS YOU AS WELL, you ungodly mountain of ass. To quote the good Dr. Cox “yes you, forever you, a thousand times you.”

            The fact that you continue to live and breathe is an insult to the very fabric of existence. I have not the slightest idea why your two idiot parents decided to conceive you, but it is a decision that they and the rest of the world have regretted ever since the fateful day you slithered out of your mother's snatch, much to the astonishment of the delivery room doctor, who has never before in his medical career seen a baby born with such disfigurements as you and live. Your life is worth less than a broke dick dog's post-coitus cock drippings, you gushing geyser of diarrhea and fail.

            If you for one second even begin to believe that there is a chance in the deepest shit encrusted bowels of hell that you will ever, EVER, be allowed to look at a member of the opposite sex and so much as wink at them without the townsfolk stoning you to death with rocks wrapped in dismembered foreskin for said offense, then let me burst that fucking bubble for you real quick. The chances of you passing on your genes to a willing partner are so astronomical that there is a better chance of Martin Lawrence ever making a good movie that he wrote, directed and starred in. You might as well castrate yourself now and spare the world the horror of your offspring on the off chance that you jerk off in a napkin and somewhere down the line a homeless woman takes it out of the garbage and uses is as a tampon, because that is the only way you will ever propagate.

             There is no conceivable reason for your continued existence other than boosting the ratings of mediocre, repetitive television programming which serves only to show the worst in humankind and dumb you imbeciles down even further. Without you we might actually have something educational on network TV, but there is no reason for them to change the programming format because you monkey fucks keep watching to see which generic church singer is going to get a shitty recording contract this year. You see people dancing and singing in front of judges as entertainment, you consider 3 And A Half Men so hilarious that the drug addled mentally challenged dipshit known as Charlie Sheen makes two million per episode, and you view Fox News as a reliable news source. Rid the world of yourself and improve it vastly, you piss brained dick fuckers.

              There are over 6 billion people in this world and the vast majority of them are starving while you ignorant cunts stuff your ape-like faces with only the greasiest meat bi-products known to meat bi-product manufacturers. Imagine a shit mountain representing the world. Now imagine the topmost coiled dog turd; that's you. You are the topmost turd, but hey, at least you're on top, right? I hope every day that a disgruntled postman walks straight into your house at 4 in the afternoon, ties you to a radiator and proceeds to pillage your mother's asshole with a rusty pipe as you watch on with that ubiquitous spoon of lard sticking out of your mouth, you completely unwarranted insult to humanity.

              Fuck you, fuck your family, fuck anyone who looks like you, fuck anybody who likes you, fuck your dog, fuck your couch, fuck your hair, fuck that stupid little thing you do (you know the one), fuck your job, fuck your friends, fuck your shoes, fuck your preferred mode of transportation, fuck your dumb ass dentist, fuck your favorite musician, fuck your door mat, and finally and most of all, fuck your fucking face you fat fucking fucktarded fuckhole. You are the sole reason why this world should be destroyed by a million angry ferrets hell-bent on reclaiming that which was once theirs.

That was nice. I think I'll do it again sometime. Check back tomorrow, when I write a buncha stuff about a buncha other stuff!

Some ways you could die

Hey fuckbrains and welcome once again to the blog where all of your questions to life's mysteries get as firm and decisive an answer as the cock lodged up your mother's gaping asshole. Today we will discuss death and the ways in which you assorted bunch of maggot witted fuck tools are likely to meet it. Death is serious business, so I will approach the subject in my usual manner – irreverent and withholding any and all fucks. That having been said, let me further add that I don't expect you to seriously reflect on your own mortality after reading this, as you are all nothing more than barely sentient bushels of monkey dicks hung out to dry on a humid summer's day. Moving on.

The first way in which you will likely meet your inevitable demise that comes to mind is one that I hope actually happens every single last one of you bloated cum sponges: having your dick hole fucked by a ravenous, syphilitic razorback gorilla until it grows bored and rips your face off with its teeth and takes an acidic diarrhea shit on the exposed flesh as you cry and piss yourself in agony. You will eventually die of syphilis.

Another rather likely scenario is you tripping and falling into a wood chipper on your way to a Gaga concert and having it jam when you're only halfway through. Oh how you'll shriek and beg for the sweet release of death when you see the bottom half of that stubby little thing you call a body come shooting out of the other side of the machine, shredded beyond any and all recognition. After a short time of torturous pain and regretful reminiscence you will bleed out and slump over the edge of the receiver, at which point the contraption will burp, start up once more and pass the rest of you through onto the nearest lawn. I think I covered this scenario in the first post.

I don't think anyone has ever died of sheer stupidity, but my bet stands firm that you'll be the first. You will, at some point, actually become to god damned brain dead that every cell in your body will audibly say “fuck this” and shut down out of the extraordinary shame that must come from housing and supporting your brain, you extremely late term abortion. How you don't drown in your own saliva is beyond my comprehension.

Dying on the toilet is perhaps the closest you will ever come to a dignified death. I can see it now: you sitting there, passing what could probably be seen by Guinness as the world's least attractive shit, when suddenly your heart seizes up and you fall forward, spraying your rancid fecal matter comprised of onion rings and cheese all over your bathroom, and as the final wet squeak evacuates your dying body your entire family rushes into the room and laughs their asses off at you. This is the best you can hope for.

Car crashes, county fair ride accidents, fire works related deaths – all likely for the majority of you imbeciles. Infact, the next time you see something that might look like fun, you know like showing a lit candle up your ass, do the world a favor and do it. Your very existence on this planet is an insult to sentient being everywhere. I hope to never have to meet or interact with you in any imaginable way. Fuck you and anybody who likes you.

Yes I know I haven't posted in two days, and there is good reason for that, the reason being that I simply do not give a fuck. You should feel privileged that I've decided to share my words with you at all instead of keeping it all to myself and having you live your life like the miserable piece of fetid shit that you are and are destined to forever be.

Tune in tomorrow when I tell you how to overcome sickness!

“Oh my holy hell, I am so god damn fat that my clothes have exploded off of my unsightly blob of a body and I am now reduced to wearing tarps reserved for painting dance halls on my trips to Wal-Mart. What do I do?”

Congratulations! You are reading this post and thereby have taken the first step to bettering your life. Now if you can keep your sinkhole-like maw from yapping for more than a microsecond, I'll tell you what can be done about your self image issues. It's really easy and can be done by just about anyone with a pulse and three and a half brain cells (that's not entirely true, the dead do it ALL THE TIME). You ready? Here it is.

Put down the fork, you globular mass of gelatinous pig excrement! I bet you're the kind of dickless nut juggler to walk into a Burger King and put the franchise holder's offspring through four years of college for the next three generations in one visit you shambling hulk of skin, sweat and nacho cheese. If you can't keep yourself from wolfing down anything wrapped in paper with a corporate logo on it, then I have not the foggiest as to how you keep yourself from breaking your own tire-like neck on a daily basis while engaged in the simple act of waking up. The amount of brain chemistry it takes to look at a piece of bread with a patty consisting of %35 meat, some genetically engineered cheese and dripping with a sauce so secret that the FDA doesn't even want know what it is and saying “I'd rather not put that pile of toxic material into my body” is far less than the amount required to keep one's eyes open until the next involuntary blink, and if you are unfamiliar with that sort of self control then the only option left for you is to eat yourself into a coma and leave some food for the rest of us, as you are now beyond all hope of redemption.

Now I know what you're thinking, “But Loki, its hard to simply put the fork down without any sort of mental preparation”. I hear ya, lard ass. That's why I have decided to put together a list of things you can do to help prepare you mentally for the oh-so-difficult task of not eating twice your body weight in Pringles every three hours. These helpful tips will first and foremost help you to have a clear look at your own gastronomical depravity and force you to either stop eating like a hog on display at a Milwaukee county fair or staple your own mouth shut. Which ever works best.

1. Wash yourself. This is the first and by far the most important step and I will walk you through it. Go on and jam your oozing pus sack of a body into your tub, turn on the water and with your massive bovine rolls hanging over the sides of the porcelain, grab the nearest toilet brush and attempt with all your huffing and puffing might to scrape the dried Cheeto dust from under your tits. Next, with whatever muscle tissue you've acquired in your arms by repeatedly lifting those heavy cans of sugar water to your insatiable mouth, lift your left wrist ABOVE your cake frosting stained lips and with the brush scrub away at your never seen and long forgotten arm pits (that's where, among other places, that horrible stench was coming from in case you were wondering, you disgusting fucking waste of breath). Repeat on the other side. A half hour from entering the tub, your tits and your pits should now be as clean as a dew laden blade of grass on an Irish spring morning. This is as clean as you will get until you lose weight equivalent to that of a medium sized Somali village. The next and final step is to pull your cell phone from your pants (of course you left your pants on you ignorant bitch) and call the fire department to come and pry you from the tub. It isn't customary to tip your firemen, but these men will have put in several hours of work trying to accomplish the nigh impossible, so give them a little something.
   
   
2. Now that you have cleaned yourself, I bet you're feeling far better and lighter than before without the 70 pounds of candy wrappers and taco shell crumbs stuck in between your rolls, but we are far from done yet. The next step is to dress yourself. This will heighten your self esteem, I promise. Put on your tarp and get thee to a Big & Tall store. After you get kicked out for scaring all the other Big & Tall people, head to your nearest fabric factory, where I'm sure that for a price, they will fashion for you a shirt and pants that will fit your planetoid-like self. Be prepared to spend. Once you get home, undress and look at yourself in the mirror. Its normal if you go blind – so does every one else when they see you rolling down the beach. Notice the unsightly piece of shit standing before you, barely qualifying to be called human. Notice how its feet are sticking out from underneath a skirt of stomach fat, legs being long since lost underneath said skirt. Imagine how many Rwandans your putrid corpse could feed! Look upon this and shudder in disgust if you have any self worth left in you after all those Olympic sized swimming pools of mayonnaise you've ingested over the last three weeks. The next step will require the help of several competitor strongmen as you will now need to cover up that retch inducing glob of pale jelly with the clothes you just bought. See? Doesn't that look and feel better? Sure, the buttons look like they're about to fly off at a velocity required to travel through time, and your leg fat is actually seeping through the pant seams, but at least you look like something almost resembling a human being! Good job!
   
   
3. With your self image restored, you are now ready to leave your dilapidated house one inspection visit away from being condemned as unlivable and go out into the world with a new sense of pride, self worth and drive to try and actually burn a calorie. Exit the house and then go back in again. You have burned one calorie. Now go back to stuffing your fat fucking face with cheese and sugar because you have gotten past the point of no return. You are a blob, you understand me? A blob. No amount of diet or activity will ever help you because you lack the self control and for god's sake the self respect to do anything about your ever expanding ass. You will continue to stuff your body full of garbage until they day you die miserable and alone in a pool of your own burning, bubbling shit. Your only option now is to commit suicide quickly as the way you're doing it now is far too slow and consumes far too many resources, you useless waste of life. Why are you even alive? Why SHOULD you be alive? The only step left now is to choke yourself with a turd you have dug up out of the back of your mu-mu as that is the only way this world will get any justice for your existence.
   
   
   After going through these three simple steps, you should now be well on your way to making a world a better place! If that sort of mental prep didn't help, I don't know what to tell you other than I hope that you suffer a fatal brain aneurism before your next outing to Taco Bell. If after all that you are still not ready to put down that fork and maybe god forbid run your biblically proportioned ass around the block a couple of times, then it seems to me that you were destined from birth to be a walking bag of gravy that has not seen its genitalia since that one time you played doctor with the neighbor kid when you were five and I want you to drown in your own vomit after eating a bad slab of ribs with a side of fuck you. 
   
   
   Stay tuned for tomorrow's post in which I will unfuck your miserable, nonexistent love life!