Dear Chris Christie (letter from a Duh’Merican)

chris-christie-eating

(Thought I would re-post this given the current debacle he’s in.  I actually heard him say that he found out about everything after he finished “working out.”  Yeah right.)

Are you really going to be running for President in 2016?  Are you really going to be the face of the Republican Party?

Well, I guess you are a fairly accurate representation of the American people.  After all, I think it’s being reported that around 36% of all American adults aged 20 and over are considered obese.

Even after your lap-band surgery, you still appear to be almost morbidly obese.  But there is plenty of time for you to “de-supersize” yourself before you make a bid for the presidency.

I’m not sure what it says about a person who has to have a band surgically implanted around their stomach to curb their voracious appetite.  This apparent lack of self control makes me a bit worried about how you may behave yourself if elected President.

Forget about religion and gay marriage, let’s talk about GMO’s and large sodas.  Yippeeee.

Could you imagine the power you would have?  You could have sexy hookers feed you chicken wings while they dancing naked around your own personal “oral”, I mean oval office. Continue reading

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Extra Mayo

arbys_philly_beef_02When I asked for extra mayo on the side, she stared at me with those banjo eyes.  You know the eyes I mean.

The eyes that seem to be much farther apart than they should be.  Eyes that have watched cousins touch each other in the dark, warm areas only non-relatives should be allowed to touch.

Her quizzical expression reminded me of how a squirrel’s mind must feel when it crosses the road in front of a car safely, then darts back from where he came from. But her expression was far less urgent than the squirrel narrowly escaping death.

“Extra mayo?  You sure about that,” she said with a southern baptist twang.

“Absolutely dear.  Haven’t you ever had mayo on a philly cheese steak?” I answered a bit angrily.

And why did she give a shit about my mayo ordering habits?  After all, this was an Applebees in the deep south and not exactly a bastion for health nuts.  I naturally assumed that mayo was quite popular here. Continue reading

Shhhhh……Duh’Merica is sleeping

The pillow is so comfortable; so damn comfortable as you sink into the feathers.  It was a long night of catching up on Honey Boo-Boo episodes, you deserve a rest.

Shhhhh, don’t wake up.  While you count Kardashians jumping over your drool-stained cheeks, America is supplying weapons to a new group of dark-skinned rebels who will one day crash another plane.

The temperature is perfect; so damn perfect with the ceiling fan on full blast.  You pull one leg out from the sheets to remain cool.  After all, the jacuzzi scene on the Bachelor was hot tonight.  All those strangers sucking face.  You would cut your arm off to be the next star.

Shhhhhh, don’t turn over to quickly, you might wake.  While you dream of McRibb sandwiches, America just listened to every one of your phone calls and read all of your text messages because you used the word “B O M B” on Words With Friends.

The birds are starting to chirp as you stretch your arms above your head.  What a good sleep, maybe you should roll back over and get another 30 minutes or another 30 years.  While you decide to hit snooze, America is still trying to convince the world that prayer will make everything better.

Shhhh…. Duh’Merica is sleeping and I’m afraid they will never wake up.

 

Golden Corral, Chocolate Fountains and the End of the World

(keep in mind, I am not a spokesperson for Golden Corral nor am I affiliated with the company in any way)

The hotly debated topic of “when the world will end” has recently taken a drastic turn to cause immediate concern.  Forget the Mayans, forget Nostradamus, forget your Bibles, forget that crazy preacher Harold Camping and everything they predict about the end of world.

The Chocolate Fountain

You don’t need ancient calendars or scripture to predict the end of the world.  All you have to do is visit your local Golden Corral.   Golden Corral?  What am I talking about, you might ask?

Well, unless you live under a rock, you have probably seen the advertisements that Golden Corral has added a spectacular chocolate fountain to their buffet dessert selection.  I know, go ahead and pinch yourself, a chocolate-freakin-fountain, it’s all too real.  But, before you pee your pants, let’s take a step back into the real world and think about this for a minute. Continue reading

Dear Pussies

I’m tired of the whining, I’m tired of the bitching and complaining.  America has turned into a nation of big, giant, dripping wet pussies.

(I mean no disrespect to women or their vaginas with this post.  I quite like vaginas; it just so happens that the word “pussy” is used universally to describe people as wimps.  I didn’t create that.)

On Patriotism: Stop moaning every time I say I’m against war, that doesn’t mean I’m unpatriotic, it just means I have a differing opinion than those who enjoy bombing the hell out of dark-skinned people half way across the world.

Hey, they killed about 3,000 of us at the Twin Towers; I think we are more than even now.

How much longer do we need to prove our dick-size?

And don’t patronize me with your American Flag displays.  Nothing screams “Patriot” more than your old ass truck with a confederate flag waving from the tailgate.  AMERICA, FUCK YEAH.

On American Idol Contestants: Hey parents, if your kid sings like a wounded dog, please have the courage to tell them that they suck.

When you hide the truth from your kids in an effort not to hurt their feelings, you are only setting them up for embarrassment and failure.

It’s better for you, their parents, to tell them that they suck instead of encouraging them to display their ill-fated vocals in front of a panel of judges and millions of Americans on television.

“But mommy and daddy, you said I was the best singer in the county.  Why did everyone laugh at me?”  See, just tell them they suck and none of that will happen.  Continue reading