Hello, My Fellow "Eat da' Oppressed Press Freely"!
Brothers and Sistas of the Corn Hole Degeneration:
This is your lovely mentor, Jonathan Livingston Pigeon-Poo, coming to you "LIVE" from "INSIDE URANUS"!
You know that scratchy feeling you get, that ain't hemorrhoids, that's my "POTTY" cast.
So, Fellow Misfits, whatever you do, "DO NOT scratch it"!
That interferes with me mic-row-phone!
And, you will miss OUT on me "Wiz-dumb", if you do that nasty scratch, so, DON'T!
Be brave, "Gay Liberals", Liberals, ARE gay, too, you know, don't cha?
However, "Gay ReThug-i-KKKans" are not!
They tend to be extremely ugly, angry, vindictive, unhappy misfits that seek out a deadhead, orange monster to lead them, such as the likes of "Dirty Diaper Donnie"!
Really, My Fellow Americanos, can't we all be friends?
Now, let me ass our spoiled, right-wing nimpkinpops, do you have any idea of the sacrifices that I had to make to get ALIENS from "3 Eyes Atlas" to insert those "High Foluton", Super Secret devices in your ARSE?
Listen up, you "Left Leaning Liberals", too lazy to get a job 'cause you be playing that damnable game, "CORN HOLE", all damn day, 365, when you ought to be out lookin' fer a job that don't exist.
You see, Brothers & Sistas of the CORN HOLE DEGENERATION, I is here to tell you, "da tooth, the whole tooth & nutin butt the TOOTH", so helps me, Garfield!
(Garfield is me Mentor)
In a nutshell, I can say this, because I is a "Certified Registered Nut Case", just going with the flow!
We all have to be something, don't weed!
I can say, with the utmost integrity, that 'MURI-KKK-A IS GOING TO HELL IN A HANDBAG!
What difference does it make if it is a "DESINER'S HANDBAG"?
It's probably a "knock-off", sold on the streets of New York City, taking good jobs from our recently released felons.
They need jobs, too!
WAKE THE FUGAZI UP, 'MURI-KKK-A' AND SMELL DA ROSES.
Not Donnie's Fat, Orange Arse. I know that a string of former J6th Rioters have been pardoned by Donnie Dumb Fugazi and are currently beating the shat out of innocent democrats, just fer da fun of it. Now, that ain't right. Not even for Re-Thug-I-KKK-A-Holes.They is some "Twisted Fister" posing as tough guys. But, we know that da' be disgruntiled Arse Wipes, formerly working fer "Dirty Diaper Donnie" in his first "Shat Storm" term in office. Man, was that one fugazi mess.
Now, the Orange Beast is back with gusto, fueled by his former underage sex victim, Attorney General Bondi, who does anything he suggests, no matter how illegal or disgusting.
Would you like to have a friend like that, too?
Well, that's it fer today, tune in tomorrow for more WHORE STORIES!
They will keep you up at night, all night, every night, until one is converted to the MAGA CODE, "Multiple Lies are better than No Lies", if you're a white, right-wing, Bible Thumping, Angry, "Dysfunctional Nut Jobs" with no joy in your life!
NOTE:
This has been a FREE PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT, from a real has-been piece of white trash, who now are the "good folks" locked down in the basement of the "Bird Droppings Institute - A Think Tank Fer Morons, No Idiots, Please"!
That is me home, er, adobe, my hideout, etc., where I gather the most unstable SONS OF BITCHES in all of 'MUR-REE-KKK-AH to help solve problems, smoke weed, and pee in cups, for "Research Purposes", only.
We Be Weird!
We be different, no doubt, don't shout. I get that!
The "Tooth" be told, is that we have "Intergalactic Contact with Aliens" from outer space, inner space, and Space Stations.
If'n you want to join our more uplifting dribble, send $20 (CASH ONLY) to Jonathan Livingston Pigeon-Poo, % Mildew, Ohio, where there are "NO JOBS", NOT EVEN BLOW JOBS! CASH ONLY, DAMNIT.
Credit Cards, Checks, Bitcoins, and old coins are anathema. Tools of COMMUNISM! However, if you send CASH. I will send it back to you with a hundredfold. You will be richy, rich.
Friends, and Fellow Stodges, listen up:
Before it is too late, "Donnie Dumb Fugazi" whispers into one of my ears when I am asleep—the LEFT ONE, thank you, "Jesus" —that is where I get me "WIZ-DUMB", in case you are interested.
That's where I get my intel, that and from "Dirty Diaper Donnie", my Mentor & Tormentor, who loves to "RATLE ON too long", like me.
I tell the "TOOTH, THE WHOLE TOOHT", straight from the Horse's ARSE, "Dirty Diaper Donnie", Sheep Dip eater, extraodinaire.
So, please, my fellow News-Talkers Fiends, do not be intimidated by our worldwide "WIZ-DUM", join us in "Saving America from that POS, Donnie John T-Rump's deadly BULL SHAT!
(No phone calls, damnit.
Send CASH only.
"Night, all", I take it every chance I get.
Ain't Nothin' Wrong With Being Nuts!
I've been nuts fer most of me 83 years, and 11 months.
My Momma told me..."Don't Mess Around with SANE FOLKS, they ain't RIGHT in Da HEAD, they just lean da way, Hose!"
It sure beats being a "Re-PuriKKKan" T-Rump Kisser!
What in HADES does that Red Dot on the right side with the number 6 mean, now it is up to 11?
Will I seek to exist at 13?
Why does everything have to be so complex?
Am I being tracked by RED NECKS?
Here, at the Bird Droppings Institute, we encourage deadbeats, meatloafs, even down and dirty "Left Leaning Liberals" to join our Mission To Rip "Dirty Diaper Donnie" A NEW ONE!
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In case you haven't noticed, this is "LICKABLE SATIRE", not pure, dry, meaningful sat-tires!
My Fellow New Talkers.com Fiends, what is wrong with whipping up one's innermost feelings about "Dirty Diaper Donnie"?
After all, Donnie is destroying our country, starting wars with Iran, Nicaragua, Mexico, and American Cities that are predominantly LIBERAL.
Donnie needs to be schooled, don't ya think?
In the old-fashioned meaning of the word
let's make it the threshold to qualify for the next medal of freedom awarded ...
Yeah, that would be great to see on NATIONAL TV!
The Trump Medal for "Worldwide CHAOS", a tin can full of dried SHAT!
Dirty Diaper Donnie has got to GO...not to his Golden Toilet Bowl, but directly to "HADES", asap!
Amen, Brother "devangelical", Amen!
What could attract reasonable folks to SUPPORT an
"Adjudicated RAPIST", a "CONVICTED FELON", a man who was sued by 3500 businesses that did business with this ORANGE HOG?
What were they smokin"?
They like him because he hates all the people they do
Yes, Sir, "Sister Trout", you hit the head on the nail, as you do every time you post one of them there "Cracking Wit-a-Sons". You makes me "CRACKLE", TOO"
Write your elected officials and demand that they bring back the GUILLOTINE.
I have no idea what these psychic messages mean, or where they come from! Do you know?
Help an 83.11-month-old man clear his mind, and rid the world of "Donnie".
Restrict that name!
"May the Bird of Paradise" fly up your nose, and bless you!
RED BOX????
What in the name of Hocus Pocus does that mean? That is creepy!
When I was just a kid, studying for the Electric Chair, I lived with my parent for a brief period. One mundane, foggy morning, when I was awakened by my parents telling the whole unwashed family of fleas that they were going to the grocery store, which made us salivate.
Oddly, they never returned. I was shoved off to my "WEIRD" Uncle Al. Almost everyone in "Trashlandia" had a Weird Uncle Al.
You see, My Fellow "New Talkers.com", we were a poor family. We were so poor couldn't buy groceries, so we had to rent them.
Despite the lack of indoor plumbing, sleeping on the concrete floor, we like it like that. That is all we knew.
We didn't know alot about anything.
We created our own fun activities. "Ring Around The Wino" was the one we liked the best. Sometimes we would grease the back of his neck and slide down it. That was fun, too.
After my parents, if they were my parents, disappeared, I moved in with my "Weird Uncle Al".
Every morning, Weird Uncle Al would kick down the stairs, then up the stairs. One might say he liked to kick.
Finally, at the age of 13, I decided to do something about it. I tore out the steps. But that didn't solve the problem. It was when "Weird Uncle Al" fell into the hole where the steps used to be.
I immediately packed up my belongings and stuffed them into my watch pocket, and headed out for New York City, bound and determined to make something of me-self.
I decided that I was gonna be an ACTOR, COMEDIAN, WRITER, DANCER, and never work a day in me life at a regular job.
Well, I never worked a day, and became all those things at great peril, but it was wobbly wild.
If you idiots would like to hear the rest of this TALE, send $25.00 in CASH, No Damn Sissyied Checks, Creepy, Illegal Credit Cards, or "Dirty Diaper Donnie's" Bit Coins.
Send it to Jonathan Livingston Pigeon-Poo, "Doctored", % Mildew, Ohio, where there are no jobs, NOT EVEN BLOW JOBS!
We be in a world of hurt!
And, I will send it back to you, 100 FOLDS!
This is a true story told by several comedians who are now deceased. So ain't no one going to sue me!
Interesting. Harpo Marx used to tell that story.
The best graffiti I've ever seen, written on a wall in Berkeley:
"............................!" - Harpo Marx
Groucho was a bright, quick-witted comedian who warmed me cockles every time he spoke. He is one of my favorites! Of course, you are, too.
REMEMBER:
Send your Monthly Tithe to Jonathan Livingston Pigeon-Poo, "Doctored",
In Care of "The Bird Dropping Institute For Morons, No Idiots, Please! (They
screw everything up).
We be located, in case you have forgot, in the "Lovely, but nearly all torn down Mildew, Oh-Ho-Hoos, where there are NO JOBS, "not even Blow Jobs"
Some folks says I is "CRACKED UP", but I says that it makes me poop, er, "POP"!
T-Diddy Rump Roast is the one that "poops" all da time!
Donnie is a "GUM SHOE", that is why he walks funny! Throw him to the wolves.
Wolves love to EAT GUM SHOES, don't ya nose it?
Some "News Talkers.communists" say I am not right in the head. They are right. I am left.
I can't wrap my mind around Christianity, or any Faith. They all seem so whacked up, exclusive, demanding that their choice is the supreme one, and they seem to be ready to KILL anyone who defames their religious choice.
War, perhaps from the beginning of time, has been inflamed by one's religious views. I know there is a GOD; he spoke to me after I ingested a Peyote button.
When I was on the edge of suicide, I spoke out loud and told HIM what I needed in detail.
24 hours later, I met her in a peculiar, lucky way. It took me two years to understand that she was what I needed and had asked him for. I know it sounds nutty, but it is true, and has made all the difference in my life.
We have been married for 49 years, together for 50, and it seems like only yesterday I met her, fell in love, and together we birthed a son. He is 44 years old, moved back with us, gave us two grandchildren, Kaitlyn Elisabeth Roberts, and a son, Jonathan Ashby Roberts. They are great gifts. Kaitlyn is turning 18 on November 28, and her brother Collin is now 17. They were just 10 months apart.