Hark Upon the Gale

PBK inductee

Fear Not

Fear not ye who stare in dumbblankfacerificatio.  This blasphemous affront from he with the royal nose and created royal lineage will be met with brutally harsh impunity.  He will be crushed with my iron gauntlet as I mold his flacid will like a piece of wet clay. 

The King’s claim to royal lineage is false and ridiculous.  My children, King Stoney was once a young grasshopper in my School of Debaucherous Edification.  This State sponsored program reluctantly admitted the Prince to imbue the naive Prince with the necessary rejection of extravagant material objects and extravagant g.p.a.’s .  What the young Prince did not realize is that this propagandalistic program of debaucherous inundation and and murdering of reason was to weaken the privileged for our worker’s revolution.  My arduous work of the last few months, day in and out, working into the wee hours of the night, was for the building of my barnesian army. 

I am a man of the people.  My father, a poor dirt farmer who struck oil through his rural education, rose through the ranks of the privileged like the early Blogres lineage that King Stoney claims.  Abandoning me in his quest for the tainted coin,  I was raised in the hardened industrial center of our land.  I am a worker that will crush the priviliged and distribute their wealth to the people.  Rise against your attacking tyrannical despot who rules with wild passion and uncontrolled partiality.  Join the ranks of the industrialized worker.  Sign up at your local Volkswagen dealer.  

In my brilliant plan of genius, I paved the way to revolution through my puppet P.M. Sunburner.  He is a weak man of the senses swayed toward the passion.  He is a weakened by his addiction to the witch’s brew squeezed of the rotten teat.  His ludicrous claim of peak conditioning and corpus care are being revealed by the pictures provided by Morel the Destoryer, a man of truth.     

Taken after his royal decree last night

Suppressing the Truth

Destroyed by his Extravagance–Poisoned by Morel the Truthsayer

 Let this be a lesson to all who oppose the strengthening of the Bloggerland.  Sunburner is an example of any who stand in the way of our glorious revolution of the people.  Treacherous lechery will be Punished!

-Chancellor Ovaltine

P.M. Demonstrates his Iron Handocity

In a predictable unexpected turn of events, P.M. Sunburner has disposed of his newly befriended assassin.  In his ruthless ruthnicity, the P.M. beguiled the attacker into a partnership of death.  No, not the scythe to his iron hand, the attacker became the victim of his glorious impunity.  The colossal hand that now makes Blogres strong and empowered to meet the agression of any would-be agressors has come down on any who oppose it. 

It seems that shortly after the Toast of Sunburnable Brotherhood the P.M. threw the attacker off of the Royal Balcony where he plummeted to the marble floor, falling to his death.  The P.M.’s delight in destroying all those who oppose the Bloggerland will assure the people of his pledge to protect the people from the royal despotism with brutal force.  “I will destroy all those who oppose my shepherding of the followers of the Book of Savagery”, said the P.M., “But, I will usher in a newer, stronger Iron-age in which our land is impervious to the flacid assaults of limp troglodytes.”

 The P.M.’s promise of a stronger land rising from the ashes of the former King’s debaucherous disregard for public affairs was compounded by a State exposition of strength, physical prowess, and the P.M.’s superior body type.  “Not only through genes, but arduously hard repetition, can you too approach my chiseled greatness.  I take care of my body, I am believe in preserving the sanctimonious temple which is the human body.  I am outlawing all manufacturing, sale, distribution, consumption, and even speaking of substances harmful to the realization of your goal to approach the human specimen that is me.  Any caught consuming drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, or polska kielbasa will immediately be executed.  Do not fear my children–I will liquidate the threats to our ever-lasting security.  Everything Must Go!”   

–Morel the Destoyer–

Brought to you by our friends at Costco–Destroying Small Businesses One Zip Code at a Time

Exactly the type of citizens his gloriousness wants.  Both the violent teens and the complacent videographers.  Don’t forget to check out our new thirteen year old punani section.  Now in boxes of a dozen– baker’s dozen that is. –Costco 😉

Asssination Attempt on P.M.

The drama of the foreign invasion has escalated in the last few hours as P.M. Leopold Sunburner was attacked by a would-be assasin while giving his second decree.   

The identity of the attacker has been revealed.  In a tribute to the long forgotten fighter of injustice, El Kabong, the defiler of the sanctity of the sanctimonious new P.M., was stopped not by security, but the iron hand of Sunburner. 

His foiling of the attempt was not accompanied with a bum rush of security or the summary execution as expected, but a peace offering.  It seems the P.M. recognizes the assailant as the now dishonored and disgraced former American presidential candidate.  Aligned closely in their political persuasion, they ironically have become great friends and confidants.  A proposed consulship and extermination of the exiled King is rumored to have and still be considered. 

                                  

We, the Royal Press, will continue to bring you the continued late breaking newsworthy news.  Heil Sunburner.       

A Message From Our Sponsor: 

“Do you want to get fingered or do you want to get fucked?” Come on down to Funtown Auto. 

Foreign Invader Takes Over Blogres, Installs New P.M.

Similar to the blietzkreig’s lightning attack of speedy fast quickness, a foreign invader has conquered vacantly empty Blogres.  The invading invaders advantageously took advantage of King Stoney’s debaucherous debauchery on a weekend retreat into the depths of the dark wooded forest of ghouls and plentiful fairy dust.  The Minister of Defense, Roughty McRoughton, and his army of little green Alesman sensed the plot afoot and attempted to meet the insurgent infidels but was impeded by the River of COX’ s Dam break and flooding of the southern swamps of the South end of the Kingdom.  The sole availabe resource to meet invader was the King’s Huntsman, SuitYourSelf the Busy, but the woodsman was off hunting the woods for herbs, berries, fish, and small game.  Now, all that stands in the invader’s way is the Blacksmith, Twitch the White, also the Court’s Rebuter empowered solely with the title of Premier Commenter.    

Travelin’ by day in their own land, the conquerors arrived in the early hours of Blogres and seized the Book of Savagery–the incredulous edict of the King and his court.  With this powerful empowerment the invader gained total controlocity in the unthinking subjects longing for the gift of endowed savagery.  They will now listen in dumbblankfaceirification to the holder of the Book of Savagery. 

His Awesomeness, Chancellor Ixniamak, the head of the new government, has issued his first decree:

Mouth-breathing, grass smoking, wannabe Fuckenstein polska opposition like this will be eliminated:

 

Do not fear, my children, I will be victorious in battle

Your Loving Father and Chancellor,

 

We, the Royal Press, promise to bring you all the details.  We hope we can bring you an exclusive of the Chancellor’s ceremonial Sulfuric Acid baby-head baptismal.  We will exploit all means to bring you the most suffering, death, and destruction of any news organization.   

–Morel the Destroyer–

Brought to you by Apple, Pickers of the Tree of Knowledge, (censored by the Committee to Kill the Human Spirit):

The Guillotine? Please, Biatch

I’ve got one hand to type with, so it won;t be much.  My one hand however will blow your proverbial loads with the profundity of my blogging wizardry.  just returned from afar and am currently ‘sojourning in society’ (name that author) to the desperate delight of all you unsavage settled society sinners.  in this jingle jangle morning without a tambourine i am inspired to waste more space on the blog.  in my absence and natural objective disconnection combined with a previous feeling i must say we have all become lazy.  we have relied on pictures to glitter our stories with extra sensory excitement.  with that said, here’s some of that…

For all of us Americans.  Yippee kay yay motherfuckers.  oh yeah, james marshall served in the 101st till he broke his leg on a jump.  Currahee! i know i celebrated in true american fashion on white man don’t pay your taxes day–i blew shit up.

p.s.  i’m just going to start Dankknuggets’s weekly music video.  it will however be more like whenever i get to it and i’ll prolly get tired after like three.  oh, zack kim is retroactively part of this mini series, so i guess there’s one left.  well, here goes…

p.s.s. just cause i’ve been out of contact for awhile– roughty, you’re a bitch.  and who the hell is gn?  and once again, roughty, you’re a bitch. 

 check below too, related but not the same.

Czeslaw Milosz, Nobel Laureate in Lit, 1980

this savage polish poet was actually introduced to me as an audio file of the following poem a couple years ago.  the additional sensory excitement made it all the better, but it’s all in the word.  see, we poles do know a thing or two.

 Song on the end of the world

On the day the world ends

A bee circles a clover,

A Fisherman mends a glimmering net.

Happy porpoises jump in the sea,

By the rainspout young sparrows are playing

And the snake is gold-skinned as it it should always be.

On the day the world ends

Women walk through fields under their umbrellas

A drunkard grows sleepy at the edge of a lawn,

Vegetable peddlers shout in the street

And a yellow-sailed boat comes nearer the island,

The voice of a violin lasts in the air

And leads into a starry night.

And those who expected lightning and thunder

Are disappointed.

And those who expected signs and archangels’ trumps

Do not believe it is happening now.

As long as the sun and the moon are above,

As long as the bumblebee visits a rose

As long as rosy infants are born

No one believes it is happening now.

Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet,

Yet is not a prophet, for he’s much too busy,

Repeats while he binds his tomatoes:

No other end of the world there will be,

No other end of the world there will be.

Warsaw, 1944

Copyright 1996 by Czeslaw Milosz

Presidential Hopeful Bows Out in Disgrace

 “I’m not a rake”;

George Shrub leaving Campaign Headquarters in the middle of the night

 He has retracted his bid for the Presidency in the middle of the night, June 1st 2007, under a cloud of public disgrace and failure.  It seems the Commander in Chiefing was not prepared for the epic battle between right and wrong.  In violating his code of ethics and going back on his campaign promise of outlawing pre-marital sex with life imprisonment, he could no longer vie for the coveted position.  His political rivals quickly attacked his questionable morality, unsteadfast inner fortitude, and in old political jargon, his political wishy-washyness.  Furthermore, the promise of plasma screen TV’s for every American was quickly dismissed when sensitive financial documents revealed his net worth at $187.  Ironically, he spent all of his campaign contributions on phillip morris products, the major soft money contributor to the political slush fund known as the The Committee to Elect a President Who Smokes.  It is even rumored that he participated in free expression this past weekend while retreating in the sin filled capitol of Thailand.  He claims he will return to his father’s oil farm and redeem his sins through stern lecturing, old-fashioned farm work, and a non-indulgent residence.  It is also rumored he invited a one Stoney McStoneystein to join him because of the following’s fondness for stern lecturing. 

In the political vaccum created by dropping out of the clear favorite, as shown by the latest poll of the American public, approving nearly categorically of his arch-conservativism, war mongering and supposed morality, I, Lester von Cherrytree, am annoucing my candidacy.  I hope the public will support my l****al persuasion in their new found distrust of the right.  Published below is my first campaign speech.

It is no longer a time for our fathers to McGovern,

We have the responsibility to alter or abolish the old regime as we see fit for the future.

It is a new time, with new dynamics, that requires the trained but untested wills of children entering the grand forum.

No longer can we caged by familial reliance, unfounded defiance, or blind contrivance.

Only through blistered hands, broken backs, bee sings, and scraped knees will this lingering foreboding be addressed.

As children of the Republic we cherished our leaders and teachers.

We exceeded their expectations with our own resilience in dealing with the slaughtering of innocence.

And as we matured in this world, we were equipped with the instruments needed to understand it’s dynamic.

We must love it and care for it before it’s beacon is extinguished. 

*edited by the CIA  

 

Speech Writers

Savage

I must interject that a debate over the more savage cartoon character is absurd.  Cartoons are inherently savage.  They are born savage.  Their savagery is beyond the scope of human imagination. Though we try to understand the few episodes in their eternal life that we are privy to, the scope of their savage nature  cannot be measured or examined in human terms, or as radical toon political organizations hell bent on human destruction have come to call us-“Five Fingers”.    I will hereto list a few additions to our humble appreciation of their mercy on our weak mortal lives.

 Feared Enforcer

Treasurer and Captain of Industry

Controls 91% of World’s Bullion

Secret Police

Power born of the Secret of the Ooze

Secretary and Deputy of the Department of Agriculture

Attorney General and Postmaster General

Wiley E. honed his skills in law with many multi-million dollar suits against the now defunct Acme Corporation.  And, well, “meep, meep”

Toon Youth

The Best and Brightest and Purest

Acquisitions

Respect the Immortals!

Rubber Matches, Growing Up, Other Reflections and another Roll Call

the first category tag i clicked was worthless friday, cuz that’s what i’m in.  it’s fantastic.  finally some time to interact with the tech-junkies, alcoholics and weed-fiends who read this link-laden, anti-american, diaperlicious bloghole. 

has anybody noticed that politics are continuing to play a large role in our blog?!  i can’t believe that shit.  if you knew, (and most of you do), the authors, you’d be as surprised as me.  four years in the burg, and we never talked about it.  now it’s all over everything.  i think that comes along with growing older.  things we never cared about before are starting to look more and more important.  we’re all realizing our global citizenship, and i think it’s pretty encouraging.  now all we have to do is change the minds of all the fuckos in general society *(see stoney’s note about the a&f models on the airplane… these are the dipshits to whom i’m referring.) 

on another very different topic, there’s this issue going on in the baseball world.  my boy john smoltz won his 200th career decision last night.  i don’t need to remind any of you who the braves defeated.  i don’t need to tell you that they beat the metropolitans.  further, i don’t need to explain to any of you that this win brough the braves record against the mets to 6 wins and 3 losses on the season.  no, i don’t need to mention any of these things.  why am i talking about it then?  to hurt your sensitive yankee feelings?  no.  to rub salt into your still-smarting wounds from last october?  of course not.  well, i’ll tell you why.  the braves are currently recruiting new fans, and if you all have been converted over the past few days, just let me know, and i’ll be happy to provide a letter of recommendation.  no guarantees, but it’s at least a 50-50 they’ll accept you.  last night’s prodigious victory over the hated mets was a rubber match.  “what is a rubber match?” all of you except the sport-savvy roughty might be asking yourselves.  again, i’ll explain it for you.  in a 3-game series, if each team wins one of the first two games, game three is the rubber match.  in a 7-game series that’s tied at three games each, game seven is the rubber match.  check out this helpful wiki article on the topic.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rubber_match

what’s the point of this discussion? it’s not just to make fun of the sucky mets.  in fact, i want to bring it back to politics.  since i’ve been old enough to think about politics, there have been two presidents.  (during bush the elder’s administration, i didn’t understand anything at all about it.)  these presidents have been billy clinton and george dubya bush — a democrat and a republican.  in 2008, we’ll have the rubber match between these two political powerhouses.  as in sports, this rubber match will play a big role on the way our generation will be viewed.  will our generation be defined by the shitty republicans or the shitty democrats?  lord only knows.  i got a guess, but it’s just that — a guess.  so i won’t even mention it here.  in a baseball rubber match, all we can do is drink beer and root for our own version of the good guys.  last night, my team won, and i was happy.  roughty’s team lost, and i’m sure he drowned on his tears.  in politics, however, we can play the game and get involved.  we can be the shortstop who turns the double play, or we can be the asshole who lets the ball roll right between his legs.  (by the by, what team was he on again?  hahaha.)  either way, in politics, we don’t have to sit on the sidelines.  we can cast our votes and join in the action, right?  here’s the other big difference.  if i make a throwing error, and the winning run scores for the other team, the game is over and i immediately know who won.  if i hit the walk-off homer, it’s conclusive.  i’m the big winner.  with politics, it’s not so cut and dry.  i might cast my vote and be all happy for a couple years after my selected puppet wins.  then, out of nowhere, he blows some country off the map, and my walk-off homer turns into a “you-blew-it” game ending error. that’s why, when this year’s political rubber match comes along, i’ll be drinking beer and watching from the sidelines.  the punchline of this discourse — do yourself a favor and don’t vote.  vote for your favorite amer. idol.  vote for which of the stars dances best.  vote for the best apple pie you ate at the county fair.  don’t vote for the president.  you’ll invariably be sorry!

thus ends the politics of this post.

i’m still going to school.  it still sucks.  i also work at a school.  that, too, is no good.  i am trying to learn about the material required for my degree, but all i keep learning about is that everybody only cares about money.  the only question my peers and superiors ask themselves is, “how can i make the most money off this situation?”  it’s sad to think that this is the world we’re trying to earn membership into.  maybe the solution is to drop out and move to an island and try to grow coconuts for food and decorative brassieres.  my ridiculous boss’s boss’s boss’s boss volunteered me today to take part in some terrible task around the office.  my autonomy is non-existant.  i don’t decide what i do at all.  they tell me what to do, and i do it.  it’s bad for one’s psychology.  you’ve all been there.  i guess the right thing to do is just grin and bear it until retirement… in like 60 years.  one more thing about work, i had to make a presentation yesterday to a room full of suits.  i wore a rainbow colored (ambiguously androgenous) plaid shirt untucked and my oldest, rattiest pants.  i gave a great presentation.  (probably because dank wasn’t there flicking his damned zippo to distract me.)  after this, i got an email from my boss’s boss who told me that i should have dressed nicer.  this is a big old problem in our society.  why in the world do people still judge you based on the clothes you wear?  i’ll tell you.  it’s because they’re terrible idiots who don’t know any better.  and these are the people who i’m scrambling to compete with as a peer…  sad.

well, mr dank nuggets is in, so let the fun begin.  in honor of him, i’m taking this opportunity to post yet another savage roll call.  feast your eyes on the following collection:

most savage cartoon character:  Monterey Jack — he’ll whip your ass and then console you in a lovely aussie accent.

honorable mention:  Nermal — fresh off the boat from abu dhabi

least savage cartoon character:  Rita and Runt — an ill-fated space-filler in an otherwise exceptional show

most savage world leader:  Queen of Jordan — rules with an iron fist and a lovely pair of jumblies

honorable mention:  Stalin — (translation of caption:  respect the moustache.  fear the moustache.  obey the moustache.)

least savage world leader:  Jacques Chirac (someone either just snuck up him, or he was presented with a lovely quiche.)

most savage cereal mascot:  Sonny (cocoa puffs) — this guy has “junkie” written all over his face

honorable mention:  Andy Milonakis (fruity pebbles)

least savage ceareal mascot:  Tony (frosted flakes) — why don’t you find a gayer bandana.  we’re not all convinced you’re a homo yet.

most savage car model of all times:  AMC Eagle (no competition)

honorable mention:  El Camino (the original cross-over vehicle)

least savage car model of all times:  ford tempo (my first car)

most savage blogger:  suityourself (no photo available)

least savage blogger:  you (look in the mirror and recognize your inferiority.)

finally, most savage drugs:  steriods

least savage drugs:  whipits (you’ll freeze your lungs)