đȘŠ RIP poopy Joeâs đđđ
Tag: stupid
i think im selling VCRs here in Little Rock

Bill Clinton, Collin Raye, Evening Shade, Razorbacks beating Duke in 94 March Madness, Sling Blade….
Why was the 90s so obsessed with that shithole state?
2051: a space monstrosity (part ix)-conclusion

âHey God, God Alliance, the Holy Divers…whatever the fuck you call yourselves…come get your boy!â I radioed to the new energy source on radar.
Yah jammed the transmission. âCaptain, you have fucked me over for the last time,â he said over the intercom. âYou will never escape me. Iâll chase you around the moons of Nibia and around the Antares Maelstrom and around perditionâs flames before I give you up!â
âSuck my limp dick!â I replied.
The energy source pursuing Yah was gaining on him. And with his final act, Yah tail whipped the rear of the Sagan, causing the ship to spin out of control.
âFire the braking thrusters!â I ordered Valdez.
âThrusters are having no effect!â
I radioed down to engineering. âNia, more power to the brakes!â
âSir,â she replied, âbreaking thrusters were destroyed in the last hit! Thereâs a coolant leak in engineering. Iâm diverting power to both the lift and main thrusters. That will stop the spinning, but we will be unable to stop in forward motion!â
âCaptain, weâre hurdling towards a massive object ahead. 50,000km and closing,â Dr. Jackass said.
âValdez! Give it some gas!â I yelled.
Valdez floored it. We were seconds away from crashing into a large meteor in front of us. The Sagan got caught in the objectâs orbit and we spun around it a few times until we broke free.
The ship was now on a straight path, but we were still traveling at light speed. âWe dodged that bullet,â The Doctor said, âbut itâs only a matter of time before we collide with another object!â
I called back down to engineering. âNia, can you stop the engines?â
âNot at this speed sir!â she replied. âAnd with our coolant depleted, I am unable to ramp them down. We will continue to increase speed until the engines burn out, but there will be no way of stopping the ship!â
We were now traveling at 1.5 times the speed of light and increasing. It was the fastest that humanity had ever achieved. But it was going to cost the lives of my crew.
Valdez and Jackass looked to me for answers. I had none.
I went over the intercom.
âAttention crew of the Sagan,âI said, âit has been the privilege of a lifetime to serve as your captain. All of you are fine officers. You have achieved only what others have dreamt. Letâs just hope history never forgets the name: The USV Carl Sagan.â
I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. Vibration began increasing.
Then there was a miracle.
âSir!â Valdez yelled. âSpeed is decreasing!â
I opened my eyes. The universe was no longer speeding past us. Finally, the Sagan reached a full stop.
âWhat the hell happened?â I asked.
There was a voice behind me. âI stopped this piece of shit from flying apart, thatâs what happened,â it said.
I turned around and there was a Jack Lemmon-looking asshole dressed in white robes standing on the bridge.
âWho are you?â I said to the strange man.
âGod, dumbass!â
âYouâre God?! I thought Yah was God!â
âNo moron! Yahâs that damn Deceiver fella mentioned in that book of yours, the uhh…,â God started snapping his fingers to jog his memory.
âThe Bible?â I said
âThe Bible! Thatâs it! He had this cockamamie idea that he could come to Earth and establish a kingdom for himself or some stupid crap. I dunno. We stopped him and thought that he should be a prisoner to YOU guys because he tortured all of you for so long. Clearly that didnât work out. So now weâre gonna have to find some other way to punish Yah. That guyâs fucking nuts!â
âSo are you the ONLY God?â
âIâm the only one NAMED God, if thatâs what you mean. But no, thereâs a lot more like me.â
âWhat do you guys DO?â
âHey! You stay out of our affairs and weâll stay out of yours PAL!â
âBut Earth needs your help.â
âLet me tell you something: no they donât. You think that because weâre âgodsâ that we donât know what itâs like to be you guys? Guess what? We were like you humans at one time. Humanity can climb out of this mess and come back stronger than ever. You know what? I believe in YOU. How do you like that irony?â
âCan you at least help the Ishnarians?â
âYeah yeah, Iâll go back to Ishnar. Iâm used to cleaning up Yahâs shit.â
âI have just one more favor to ask.â
âWhat do you want now?â
âCan you send us back to Earth? The shipâs kinda broken.â
âLook, Iâm not allowed to break the laws of time. Earthâs kinda a shithole right now. Donât worry though, thereâs still people there but theyâre all living underground. How bout I put you back in your hibernation chambers and by the time you reach Earth, radiation levels will be back to normal. Sound like a deal?â
âThanks God.â
âAlright, sweet dreams.â Then God snapped his fingers again.
Many decades later…
The Sagan was orbiting Earth. Tranquility Bay was abandoned and uninhabitable. I made the decision to land on the surface.
âRadiation levels have stabilized, Captain,â Dr. Jackass said.
âThank you Doctor.â From the bridge, I looked out through the view screen, down to the big blue marble below. âShould we attempt communication?â I asked.
âThere doesnât appear to be any technology to receive it,â the Doctor replied.
âWe really are back to the stone ages then,â I said. âIâll be down in engineering.â
I met with Commander Mwangi at her station. âHowâs the landing gear?â I asked.
âAll systems are functioning normally, sir,â she replied. But she wouldnât look at me.
âIs everything alright Commander?â
Mwangi stood up from her desk and turned her face towards me. âYou took a big gamble Captain,â she said. âYou risked the safety of the entire crew.â
âI ainât apologizing for getting into a stare down with the devil and winning,â I replied.
âWe couldâve been killed!â
âI couldnât allow you to live in sexual slavery!â
Mwangi sucker punched me right in the face. As I stood in a daze, she grabbed my head and kissed me passionately. âYou are one stupid, STUPID son of a bitch,â she said, âbut I thank you for it.â She rubbed her body against mine as she sidestepped her way back to work.
I had no idea what just happened. But I liked it.
I returned to the bridge and patted Valdez on the shoulder. âI never congratulated you on your pregnancy. Congratulations Commander,â I told her.
âThank you, sir.â
âAre you ready to raise this child in a brave new world?â
She smiled. âYes sir.â
I smiled back.
âPrepare for landing.â
THE END
2051: a space monstrosity
To avoid alienating my audience with discussions on politics that are completely boring and academic, Iâve decided to make a return to fiction.
Once again, I will challenge myself by writing in a genre that Iâve never done before. This time HARD science fiction (if you know what I mean đ) a la Arthur C. Clarke, albeit in first person because thatâs the only way I know how to write.
And instead of descending into pure action schlock, as my stories tend to do, I will try to end this one on a hopeful note.
Per usual, I will be winging it and make no guarantees that it will be good.

âFuck space!â I said to my executive officer while we were docking at Space Station Tranquility Bay orbiting earth. âThis will be my last mission, so help me GOD!â
âYou said that 5 missions ago, Bill,â the XO replied. âPersonally, I love it out here. It truly is a never ending frontier.â
âSpeak for yourself, Jackass!â
Dr. Sergei Jackass and I served together for 15 years. I was a military man. He was trained astrophysicist from some dump of a university in east Europe. We came from two different worlds, but together we made one hell of a team.
After our ship, the USV Jim Varney, completed docking maneuvers, Dr. Jackass and I were ordered to meet with Admiral Stockdale for debriefing.
âCaptain Kananga, I trust that your mission was a success,â the Admiral said.
âYes sir,â I replied, âthe two years studying the black hole around Uranus was money well spent.â
âWe gathered all the sufficient data sir,â Dr. Jackass interjected.
âGood. You men will have a fortnightâs rest and then report USV Carl Sagan for your next mission.â
âWait a minute, sir,â I said, âwith all due respect, thereâs a reason why the Sagan is called the Starship of the Imagination: because your imagination is the only thing that works on that piece of shit. If you want to send me into deep space in that thing, then you can have my resignation.â
âCaptain Kananga, I understand that you want to be on the front lines in the war in North Africa, but this is important. We need you out here.â
âWhat can be more important than fighting for peace and democracy?â
âBecause this information is classified, I was going to wait until you reported to the Sagan. But I will tell you now. We have received a strange transmission from a planet orbiting Tau Ceti.â
âAdmiral,â I said, âIâve been on one end of the Solar System to the other, and let me tell ya: there ainât no aliens.â
âSpace Fleet Command disagrees. STRONGLY,â the Admiral replied, âtake a look at this report.â
The Admiral handed me a folder filled with charts and graphs I didnât understand. âYou know I canât read this shit,â I said, âIâm a soldier, not a mathematician.â
Dr. Jackass took the paperwork and was stunned. âMy god,â he said, âCaptain, this is for real this time.â
I paused and rubbed my face. âTau Ceti is over four light years away,â I said, âthereâs no way the Sagan could make that kind of journey.â
âThe Sagan has been updated and outfitted with all the necessary technology for interstellar travel,â the Admiral added. âWe need you Captain. Damn it Bill. We need you. BADLY.â
The Admiral extended his hand.
âOkay Admiral,â I said as I shook his hand, âone more mission.â
***
I celebrated my birthday while on leave. I was somberly drinking myself into oblivion when Dr. Jackass stopped by my London flat.
âDoctor, I donât want to be lectured,â I said.
âAll I said was âhappy birthday.ââ
âWith all the heavy interstellar objects that weâve spent so much time around, weâve aged so much slower than people on Earth. Iâm the same age as my son now! Nobody told me that was gonna happen!â
âIs this about not being able to fight in the war?â
I took another drink. âI donât know doc,â I said. âI feel like Iâve let so much time on Earth pass. This planetâs gone to shit and Iâve been wasting time flying around space doing nothing about it. The resources dedicated to Space Fleet could have been redirected to fight this war. I feel useless. Old.â
The doctor poured himself a glass of Irish Whiskey. âCaptain, I know we havenât always seen eye to eye,â he said, âbut the exploration of space is Earthâs destiny. War is a machine of humanityâs past. Itâs time to put childish things away and build a future.â
âDr. Jackass, youâre an idealist. Iâm a realist. We donât live in the future. We live in the present. And presently Iâm drunk as shit, depressed, and want to kill people.â
âYouâre too short sighted.â
âNo, I see the universe for what it is: a vast empty wasteland, void of any meaning or God. And if there is a God, he has to answer for creating this shitty planet. I swear.â
âI think you need to sober up.â
TO BE CONTINUED…
âbitcherâ: where free speach is MANDATORY

All the political ideologues claim they want to protect free speech. Well nowâs the time to put their money where their mouth is.
Twitterâs a dumpster fire.
So allow me to introduce you to new kind of free speech platform: Bitcher.
Clearly I havenât worked out all the kinks yet. Nor have I set up a website. Any Big Tech billionaire can take (or steal, if you prefer) this idea.
But hereâs the general concept:
-For every Bitch (equivalent to a âTweetâ), there is NO character MAXIMUM. Only a character MINIMUM (which would greatly exceed the character maximum on Twitter). The idea being that participants MUST present a well reasoned Bitch. If any poster tries to cheat the system by circumventing the character minimum (i.e by stringing together random words and letters, or by typing something like âpenis penis penis,â etc) then that Bitch will be flagged and removed and the poster will be suspended for a brief period.
-Each Bitch must have at least ONE hyperlink to an external source that is relevant to its subject. To submit a reply, the poster MUST click on the link. Replies donât have to provide links, but must meet the character minimum.
-If a reply also presents an external link thatâs relevant to the subject, the OP MUST respond within a given timeframe (ex: 48 hours). If there are an excessive amount of replies that fit this criteria, a minimum amount of replies from the OP will be set (ex: 5). Failure from the OP to reply will result in a temporary suspension.
-Name calling and obscene language ARE permitted. (Terroristic threatening and harassment are not)
-It will be highly encouraged on the platform to belittle and name call any politico on Twitter that has yet to join Bitcher (within the bounds of reason, of course). If they are interested in free speech, then they should have the courage to join Bitcher.
-It is my belief that the format of Twitter encourages snark, sarcasm, dunking, and just general stupidity with its character limitations. By setting a high character MINIMUM, hopefully this will minimize the effectiveness of those acts by FORCING the participant to engage thoroughly.
So you want free speech? Hereâs your chance:
Bitcher: Where Free Speech is MANDATORY
hi Iâm glen greenwalled. AMA

Who questions the questioners?
***
It has been absolute Christmas for me the last few days. My blogâs existence has been vindicated by the conflict in Ukraine and the state of journalism reporting on it.
The internet really has ruined everything…especially the Twitterification of political discourse.
Case in point is Glenn Greenwald, sometimes referred to as the âGOATâ of journalism, who is now having an total fucking meltdown on Twitter.
Monitoring this situation, it has occurred to me that people canât handle that multiple things can be true at once.
No, Greenwald is not a âPutin agentâ. Yes, âpropagandaâ is bad, especially when itâs used to drum up war. And yes…Russia, led by an autocrat, invaded a sovereign country and no matter how terrible propaganda and American foreign policy has been, it doesnât change the fact that….Russia, led by an autocrat, invaded a sovereign country.
Iâm always hesitant to say that the âmedia lies to youâ. Itâs more complicated than that. What theyâre actually doing is spin doctoring, omitting facts, and failing to interrogate all available information and opinions (but I guess in a certain sense, that is lying).
Thatâs why itâs up to YOU, fellow reader, to be honest enough with yourself to interrogate all available facts. Thatâs all weâve got for the time being.
Because there is no trustworthy journalist or media figure. Theyâre all cynical actors until proven otherwise…especially the ones that have prior ideological convictions (what they are specifically for Greenwald, idk. But theyâre easy to infer: has close associations with Noam Chomsky, his husband is a Socialist politician in Brazil, etc) and simultaneously criticize Big Tech yet profit off of it (via Substack, Twitter, etc)
But if youâre a Greenwald defender, relax: âiM jUSt aSkiNg QuEsTIonsâ
Iâm gonna leave a link to these two articles here. Maybe theyâre old. Maybe theyâre outdated. Maybe theyâre inaccurate. You be the judge.
https://www.thedailybeast.com/is-glenn-greenwald-the-new-master-of-right-wing-media
when r u sheep gonna wake up?!

Roger Goodell is gonna rig this war like he rigged the Super Bowl
#crueltyisthepoint smh
yo shit STANK!!!

Iâve written 270 posts since August.
Nothin more to say.
Dont know when Iâll b back
#bye
golden years

Iâm looking forward to middle age.
Why?
Because it gets me one step closer to being a dirty old man.
âBut getting old sucks.â
For you maybe.
For me, I get better with age. Better looking, better at detecting bullshit, better at fucking (not that I ever have sex). Getting old is great.
For example:
-Get to take viagra. Not recreationally…like I do now…but because you HAVE to.
-Donât have to drive
-Can blame everything on impending senility.
-Piss and shit yourself
-Donât have to have sex anymore
-OR you can fuck all you want because who gives a shit anymore?
As you can see, the pros vastly outweigh cons when it comes to getting old.
âArenât you afraid of dying?â
Fuck no! Living has been an epic pain in my ass.
âWhy not try suicide then?â
Good question. But then that would deprive me of old age. So fuck that.
pennies for the dead (part viii)
Here we are! The conclusion to Pennies For The Dead.
Iâm sorry that youâve read this far đ

I instantly wasted 5 bullets.
Sadly, I had to borrow a weapon from Pete. And let me tell you: it ainât easy killing demons with a pocket knife.
In the midst of the mayhem, I lost track of Jezebel. âShe escaped to the roof!â Pete yelled while decapitating a goblin.
I sprinted up the stairs to the very top of this 666-storied building. I was out of breath when I reached the roof. Jezebel was waiting.
âYour pathetic little weapon will do nothing to me,â she said.
âThatâs not the first time Iâve heard that,â I replied.
Above the roof, Jezebel was opening a portal to Earth where all the spirits of this evil domain could trespass. I was running out of time. So I rushed Jezebel with the knife.
As I leapt towards her heart, she blocked my movement, knocking loose the pocket knife.
I was on the ground. Powerless. Jezebel laughed. âWhat a weakling,â she said as she put her pitchfork up to my neck.
âIf you kill me,â I asked Jezebel, âwhere am I gonna go? Iâm already in hell!â
âIf you think itâs bad here, wait till I send you to Bridgeport!â
I closed my eyes in preparation for eternity. Then thunderbolts rained down on Jezebel. While Joe unleashed his unholy powers from the staff, Pete went absolute apeshit on Jezebel with his machete. This severely damaged her powers, thus closing the portal.
With her powers nearly drained, Jezebel stood at the edge of the roof. âHalt!â I yelled before Joe could make the final kill shot. âJezebel still possesses Sheilaâs body.â
I looked deep into Jezebelâs eyes. I could still see Sheila. âSheila,â I pleaded, âI know that we never had sex because of my undiagnosed ED. I know that Iâd often disappear into the bathroom and leave you with the bill. I know that Iâd also clog the toilet and blame it on the cat,â I said, âbut I also know that I love you and you should probably attend AA.â
Right then, Jezebel began to spastically writhe on the ground. The evil spirit departed Sheilaâs body, and there alone stood a defeated Jezebel.
With one bullet left, I pulled out the .38. âBack to where you belong Satan: Massachusetts.â
I pulled the trigger.
The flash from the barrel echoed throughout Hell. In a puff of smoke went Jezebel.
I couldnât believe it.
âIs she gone for good?â I asked Joe.
He looked out to the horizon. âWe defeated her for the time being,â Joe said. âBut the devil is never really gone. Where Jezebel resides now is in a hell of her own making, a place so unfathomable that God himself wouldnât dare set foot. So Norway probably.â
I walked over to an unconscious Sheila. I kneeled down to awaken her. âWhat happened?â she asked.
âJust a temporary demonic possession. Nothing to worry about,â I said.
Sheila stood up and looked down to the sprawling city below. âWhere are we?â
âWeâre in Hell dear,â I said.
âIt looks like Orlando.â
THE END