A staple at Festivus...the incomparable Flash Warner. I know I'm gonna get reamed for this but that Sasha Fierce really sctaches me where I itch. Rrrrrow.
To Bernie Madoff: The world of
finance was built on shameless, unapologetic thievery. But the rogue
and the crooked have nothing on your shenanigans, you fraudulent,
traitorous cunt. You are a rapacious, wild animal that preyed upon
your own people under the guise of tzedakah. You've victimized
countless charities and spiked another rise in anti-semitism yet you
still have the audacity to walk the streets of Manhattan with that
smug, shit-eating grin. Is it because you know you should be in
shackles? Is it because you squirreled away a large portion of the
funds and confessed to provide cover? Or is it because you're wearing
a bulletproof vest under that $5000 coat and you think no one can
touch you? Something tells me it's all of the above. If it were up to
me, I'd take it to you Rikers-style with my strap-on of justice before
dragging you to an alley, beating you with chains and bamboo shoots
and throwing you into a lion's den. Let's see how smug you'd be then.
Now, I'm not foolish enough to believe this will ever happen, so I'm
going to pin my hopes on the goyim being right about the existence of
Hell. Because if they are, I'm pretty sure you'll be immersed to your
neck in the ice of Cocytus for the rest of eternity. When G-d shuffles
you loose the mortal coil and dumps you in the 9th Circle, tell Cain
that we all said hello.
To Madoff "Victims" (the individuals): You followed
that Pied Piper down the primrose path and straight off the cliff and
now you want someone to feel sorry for you? Why? Because now your kid
has to go to Rutgers and you'll have to trade in the Bentley for a
Jetta? Eat a fucking dick. When common sense advised that you look
beneath the hood, you put greed on autopilot and bought another home
in Montauk. And it's not like you battled with that decision. It was
easy for you. Why? Because you were making money. Oh, and because
Bernie was a member of the Tribe and your 98-year-old Zayde thought he
was a nice guy. If there was any justice in this world, you'd be
spending next Hanukkah working as greeters at Wal-Mart. Chumps.
To Congress: Shame on you. You had a real chance to
not only help the people of Detroit but NFL fans at large by forcing
the Ford family to give up ownership of the Lions and Ford Field
before allowing them to visit Capital Hill. What'd you do instead? You
bitched about private planes. I know you people get paid to drop the
ball and piss your collective pants at the site of union officials but
have a little sack. If I went to Detroit and ran a campaign called
"Oust the Fords from Football" I'd be elected in a landslide and
wouldn't be sweating the possibility of some backwoods schmuck like
Ron Gettelfinger screwing me out of an election.
To Rod Blagojevich: Here's a tip: teabagging the constituency is
a right reserved for charming, handsome men, not a man that allows his
face to turn him into the margarine to John Travolta's cross-dressing
butter. Know your place.
To Al Davis: I'm sick of this emotional abuse. Why do
you treat me this way? Why do you make me think I don't deserve you?
Am I not pretty enough? Is it my hips? I bet you didn't even know that
I flirted with another team this year. Yeah, that's right. I had a
date with the San Diego Chargers when you were out of town but then
Norv Turner showed up and I had to run off to vomit... then I wept in
shame :( I stil can't believe I got so emotional about it but I guess
that's what happens when you try to cheat on someone you love.
To PETA: Breast milk for ice cream? Is this some type of
self-sabotage? It's like you've gotten on your knees to beg us to blow
you off. Your primary mouthpieces are porn stars, C-list actresses and
a woman whose vagina could've hidden Roger Clemens and his ego from
the Senate and still had room to accommodate Tommy Lee's forearm-sized
penis. These women can't even string 8 words together. All they can do
is lie in a sexy repose and remind us that they'd "rather go naked
than wear fur" and we should feel that way too. I've got a message for
you silly broads - we already do! Being naked is awesome. It's
liberating. It's divine. And it's the best way to feel the breeze.
Fuck off until you say something that we can take seriously. Breast
milk in ice cream. Someone oughta knock you out.
To Oscar de la Hoya: This sad image is what happens when you're
only in it for the money.. and when you're too blinded by your
2,500-watt smile and million dollar paydays arrogant to see that
you're time has long since passed. After Floyd Mayweather taxed that
ass, you went looking for trouble because as much as you love making
money, you clearly love blowing big fights even more. What's worse is
this time, you not only blew the fight but also had to sit idly by
while your corner threw in the towel. It was a shameful moment for
boxing that never should have happened. And now, Manny Pacquiao will
fight and beat Ricky Hatton and Floyd Mayweather Jr. will be champing
at the bit to unretire and counterpunch Pacquaio back to the
Philippines for the mythical pound-for-pound title. While Pretty Boy
is a joy to watch, I've had enough of his "I'm an insufferable,
ungrateful, douche that leaves my house just to wave around hundred
dollar bills" to last a lifetime. We get it, Floyd. You're the best.
You're the greatest. You're rich. And even more, you hang out with 50
Cent. Thanks to you, Oscar, we're about to hear more about it. Times
ten. Great work. Ass.
To Cristina Ronaldo: Football has long fought for credibility in
America, a pathalogically hypermasculine country where "real men"
speak with "you-talkin'-ta-me" pugnacity and do pushups with their
dicks. And yet here you are, the unofficial ambassador of our sport,
prancing around Hollywood with shaved legs, booty shorts and a
fauxhawk. Are you insane? Look, the footballing world knows that
you're a lothario with a penchant for hookers but Americans do not.
Soon they'll come off David Beckham's fraudulent sack to annoint you
as the new role model for their little punters. And when they see you
flaming out all over Europe with your self-tanner, crotch-hugging Pepe
jeans and Louis Vuitton man purse, they will snatch their kids off the
pitches and run for the hills. You are the greatest talent of a
generation; not one of Ricky Martin's dancers. Get your act together,
you diving puss-in-boots.
To Beyonce Knowles:
- (On having an alter-ego with a name like a bootleg drag queen) - "I
have someone else that takes over when it's time for me to work and
when I'm on stage, this alter ego that I've created that kind of
protects me and who I really am. Sasha Fierce is the fun, more
sensual, more aggressive, more outspoken side and more glamorous side
that comes out when I'm working and when I'm on the stage."
- (On being a pop star) - "There is a time limit on being a pop star,
yes. Being a legend, an icon? Absolutely not. I'm over being a pop
star. I don't wanna be a hot girl. I wanna be iconic. And I feel like
I’ve accomplished a lot. I feel like I'm highly respected, which
is more important than any award or any amount of records. And I feel
like there comes a point when being a pop star is not enough."
- (On the "B'Phone" by Samsung) - "When I was 10, I recorded a song
called '632-5792' -- a phone number. It's a little embarrassing but
it's cute. There's a recording of that song on the phone exclusively
for my fans. I wanted to make sure people got a feel for who I really
am. It's only through this phone that you can get this close to my
Bitches like you make me wish I carried around a floppy dildo that I
could pull out of a hip holster and smack people with whenever the
need arose. I don't think I'm alone in saying that you are in serious
need of a cock punch. A fierce cock punch. To the face. It's time you
and your busted weaves got a little street justice.
To Madonna: It seems like an eternity since Guy Ritchie was a
wunderkind whose films rocked us with brilliant pacing, outrageous
humor and genius styling. But then you came across the pond with your
mysticism, faux English accent and desires to act. In no time, you had
Guy's deflated balls locked in your roided-up vagina prison and a
promising career was in shambles. I assumed that'd be the last impact
you'd have on my life but then came reports that you'd used your
crotch of destruction to trap Alex Rodriguez.
I'm sure it wasn't tough to lure him in, given his weakness for women
with vaginas that flex like they're Mr. Olympia. But with the Yankees'
hitting troubles, the last thing we need is an evil succubus like you
turning A-Rod into the Guy Ritchie of baseball. Both you and I know
that your va-jay-jay is like The Ring and once chaps stare into that
black hole, few are able to recover. If you leave A-Rod now, he may be
able to recover by the All-Star break. CC can keep us in reach of the
wild card until then.