Well, yes. The musical group LMFAO. There’s a bunch of people who deserve to be non-consensually arse-fucked by the reanimated corpse of Michael Clarke Duncan. Sorry! I done a Rape Culture, didn’t I? You know, if we want Republicans and Right Wingers in general to understand Rape Culture, we should just take the E off the first word. If rich old white guys think Ice T and Snoop might be involved, they’ll be right on that shit. No doubt. And also, to a lesser extent, no diggity.
Hi! This is a new blog, because I want to do one wot comes out every day, about the current events of that actual day wot’s actually just happening. Now. Although I’ll be doing it in the (UK) evening, which is also the (USA) morning or afternoon; depending on if you live in Puffquippsy, NY or Sisterfelch, OR.
I plan to regurgitate all of the day’s pointless tabloid excuses for news; talk about who’s hot, who’s not, and who’s been done for fingering children, in that crazy world which we like to call ‘Celebrity’. There may also be some soapbox ranting, bits where I tell you why Taylor Swift is lovely, and the odd paragraph of extremely detailed poetry about Victoria Beckham’s gusset. Because it’s quite the exquisite minge-vase, let me tells ya.
But that all starts tomorrow, as today there was no news at all. Well, apart from this stuff:
– The Duchess of Cambridge is still pregnant, with what is probably just a girl or something. New rules though, state that despite being a girl, it will still be King before Prince Harry. He will just have to console himself by drowning his sorrows in the pink, pouting, well-oiled anus of whatever horsey, double-barrelled lingerie model he’s currently boning.
– Michael Owen is retiring from football. About three years after he last fucking played anything resembling it. That’s a sports joke, women. There won’t be many, don’t worry.
– Lindsay Lohan celebrated her community service/rehab/counselling sentence by going to a nightclub. Because rich people don’t actually have to obey the law, and every time you buy one of her DVDs, you’re funding that lifestyle. I prefer to torrent them myself, and add to the subversion by masturbating like a chimp at her onscreen image. Of course, if you try it with The Parent Trap, you can double her humiliation. At least that’s what I told myself afterwards, as I lay shaking on the bathroom floor; tears mixing with semen; the makeshift cock and ball ring (which I’d fashioned from Rosary Beads) cutting into my sweating, yeast-ridden crotch skin. A whispered prayer to Jesus falling on deaf ears, as he was watching I Know Who Killed Me.
Thank you and goodnight!