with
Krapsody.com Reporter Dubious Monk
Inside Madonna
With turmoil in Africa, an economic melt down in the U.S., and two wars raging in the Middle East the question right now on most peoples’ minds is, so how the heck is Madonna’s love life going since she and Guy what's-his-name split up and how's she holding up after her plans to adopt a baby girl from Malawi were thwarted?
We were wondering too, so we dispatched Krapsody.com’s crack correspondent, Dubious Monk, to find out.
Have you seen this one yet? With those rumors swirling around that Nadya Suleman is shopping her birth video for a cool $1 million, there was a recent broadcast of this exclusive leaked footage...
Be warned! This is not for the faint of heart, or those easily grossed out by sketch comedy.
Clip from: The Jimmy Kimmel Show
The miracle of birth always amazes me.
Today's story: The Lulzercaust Campaign Trail of Tears.
While doing some investigating on my Google Analytics account I discovered that within our beloved country, I am missing out on some big love. Namely, two states that seem oblivious to the existence of Krapsody. In this day and age the question is how?
St. Patty's Day. Parades. Drinking. Leprechauns. Leprechauns make me lol.
The only good leprechaun is a dead leprechaun. But sadly, shooting one will not bring you any lucky charms. But I know it makes me feel better.
I don't know if you are aware but your average urban Leprechaun is a cunning bastard and will take anything that hasn't been nailed down. Contrary to popular belief, if you catch one, you will not get three wishes or a pot of gold; you will only get a kick in the crotch or a pull of the johnson or teat. A most painful and surprising turn of events.
Take my word for it.
Yesterday was time to bring out your green (I'm not referring to my last post), and every douchebag that isn't Irish does just that. Green decorations, green beer, green food, and green clothes. Like t-shirts that state you're so Irish you shit many wee leprechauns, or "Do Me, I'm Irish". Those are complete bastardizations of the holiday. I'm finding myself a bit at odds with the color green and the celebration.
There's also a national movement to make St. Patrick's Day an official holiday. Last year, Guinness® started Proposition 3-17, a campaign to make St. Patrick's Day an official holiday in the U.S. making the annual celebration of Irish heritage a celebration of the usual drunken orgy of fistfights and public urination. Aren't we tired of the stereotyping guys?
I'm sure Barack O'Bama (an Irish-American) is much too busy to even bother to acknowledge that there are a bunch of drunks (most of whom aren't Irish at all) establish a national holiday, so they can have a day of carousing referred to as an "official" holiday (as if they need a real excuse to get hammered).
Forgetting one thing are we? Not all employers will give their employees a particular holiday off, nor will they always pay them for it either. Why should we beat around the bush here? People nowadays are all about the shortcuts. Just ask for a day off from work so that you can get drunk (you may want to keep that detail to yourself). If you're lucky they'll pay you for a sick day. If not, oh well..you still got blottoed like you wanted to. There! EASY BUTTON.
I'd also like to ask these beer goggled aberrations of nature, how many people must be injured, maimed and killed on the most sacred of Irish days?
For instance, when the young Arthur Guinness himself decided to set up business in Dublin on St. Patrick's, an angry mob of leprechauns gathered and they nearly did him in with a well aimed snookerball launched from the roof of Canary Warf, London, England - a most unusual place for leprechauns to be, might I add.
Art's left nostril was so disfigured by the incident, that he could only win over the public by performing in a Shakespearian play as a stunt codpiece. I believe his part was played out in Othello, which is where his inspiration for dark stout beer originated. The secret ingredient has been revealed to be leprechaun piss and the rest is history.
College kids and idiots looking for any excuse to get inebriated and get into brawls or catfights would be rewarded with such a notion as making St. Patrick's a national holiday. I think if St. Patrick were around, he'd smack the lot of 'em with his shillelagh or swing around a dead leprechaun until he brained 'em all. And rightfully so.
Little known facts:
1.) I'm quite Irish. I know by the looks of my avatar, I probably seem more like I'm from the Dark Side of the Moon. But I'm what is called black Irish, just like O'Bama. And I shit leprechauns 7 days a week, 365 days a year. A little token of my esteem, it is exactly what it seems. Made fresh daily, at exactly 9 o'clock. It comes from my chilaney, you can keep it in a crock!
2.) My real first name is a strong Welsh name, which entitled me to daily name-calling and playground beatings. I'm still rather disturbed by it (the shitting leprechauns 7 days a week, 365 days a year part I mean - See #1.)
I'm also equally disturbed by the thought that this day is known for drinking. I don't think it will happen. The majority of Americans are too busy shopping at Walmart, throwing cacti at each other and running themselves over the rest of the year in a drunken stupor to actually care about the depths of world politics, much less a national holiday.
Considering St. Patrick's for a national holiday has an odd way of seeming entirely incomprehensible not only when written, but also when spoken about. I think we could use a holiday that doesn't involve alcohol. Don't you? It’s no secret that alcohol-related arrests increase during the holidays, this is because holidays are bad. We should just give mandatory days off every 60 days and not refer to them as "holidays" ever again. But call them the "day to get pissed and yell at people in public day."
Consider the following scenario -
A very drunk man boarded the bus and took a seat across the aisle from a prudish old woman. She stared at him and gave him the sourest look imaginable.
The drunk looked at her and blurted out, "Laaddee yore the ugliesht woman I've ever sheen!"
The old lady replied, "Well, you're the drunkest man I've ever seen."
The drunk retorts, "Yeah, laaddee maybee sho, but tomorrow morning I'll be fine!"
Really, are you sure about that?
Happy St. Patrick's Day.
Procrasturbating? I know I am.
With spring right around the corner I think many of us have the spring fever, and that's the causation of procrasturbation.
So fap away freaks.
Here's a random funny video to stroke your funny boner to. It's right up there with Picnic Face and their hilarious commercial spoof "Harness the Power of 400 Babies"!
Another passing thought I had today when ol' Octomom Nadya Suleman crossed my mind momentarily.
Now that Nadya's tape of her giving birth to her octuplets will be sold to any takers offering a seven figure sum, we'll soon officially know what it's like to witness what it must be like to see a cantaloupe being tossed out of the Grand Canyon...once it's posted on the internet that is.
- Stephen King"When his life was ruined, his family killed, his farm destroyed, Job knelt down on the ground and yelled up to the heavens, "Why god? Why me?" and the thundering voice of God answered, "There's just something about you that pisses me off."
Mar 05, 2009
Retardeau, France (Krapsody)- A flashback to an article I published last year as a guest blogger on the now defunct Cult of Qelqoth. I examined what the Pope's visit to France brought in the way of spiritual enlightenment.
Is God appalled at the primitive, downright heretical, nature of our prayers? Does God truly have mercy on us? Will God save humanity once again? These questions and more have finally been answered here - your direct port to the Almighty.
In some kind of weird game of "you're it", I've been tagged. It's true. In the spirit of blogging and internet memes, I'd completely forgotten for many months now that I was bestowed with more awards for my handiwork as a blogger than I could shake a sharp pointy stick at.
It's easy to forget things like this when you have near absolute chaos going on in your life, and when said sharp pointy stick has pierced your brain's left frontal lobe because you've tripped over everything in your path.
I'm such a klutz. Good thing I didn't run with the scissors on this occasion.
But gosh, so much has happened in the last six months, such as...
well, sitting around in my underwear all day eating Cheese Doodles and thinking up stupid stuff to write about.
While it does appear that I must -- as one person has said -- "sit around in [my] underwear all day eating Cheese Doodles and thinking up stupid [stuff]" -- they were, in fact, correct. How else would I come up with this stupid stuff to write about?
It's a difficult job, and I need lots of brain food (which is where the Cheese Doodles come in.)
Of course when it comes to writing so much stupid stuff, I must inform that it's an ongoing effort, and quite demanding as you could imagine. IMAGINE IT, I say.
I'll give you a moment to visualize me sitting and lying around in my underwear eating Cheese Doodles...trying to come up with stupid stuff to write about...
Y'know honestly, coming up with this much stupid stuff in itself does take LOTS of time and dedication. I publish slightly amusing articles I suppose. My collection of "innocuously humorous ruminations on life, love and dumb stuff" could almost be a full-time job in some respects.
But it's not, thank the stars, because I already have a full-time job and I also go to school full-time and I do have to eat, sleep, and practice good personal hygiene at some point in my career as a stupid stuff writer.
So I can't always take the time to write for your reading pleasure, not that I write for your reading pleasure exclusively. Much too busy to try to do that. If I can chuckle about my musings, then I'm sure others would chuckle about it too. Good 'nuff for me.
To be quite honest, I am also unable to follow the guidelines for acceptance of the following awards. But I accept them anyway!
I am all for spreading the love, but I am way too bow-legged and have too much going on to pass these on to another blogger. Frankly, I think there are a lot of great bloggers out there that deserve these awards, so it wouldn't feel fair to give them to just a few of my favorites.
I prefer to drop comments on my favorite blogger's pages when I can. For me, that's how I show I care. Because I care, just like a kid lost in a candy store...mostly.
First and foremost, I rang in the new year with The Helping Hand Award from Survivor at I DON'T GIVE A BLEEP. According to Survivor, I am a sick, sick man and my humor is irreverent and just plan crazy.
I thank you for your comments and the gesture, Survivor.
I shall visit you at your office one day soon, with a box-full of infomercials you could give a bleep about. Then I will proceed to strip naked and run about your office screaming at the top of my lungs that you touched me inappropriately. What better way to thank a fan?
Tamera Daun of Pentad: Simplifying Life and Love, dropped this award on me back in September. Yes!!! that long ago..I feel like an ass. And my ass thanks you too.
I'm not only brilliant according to this award, I'm brillante!
I'd like to thank the academy, Gawd and all my followers (3 in total). And most of all thank you Pentad, for sticking with me through think 'n thin, sickness and health, forever and ever amen.
The rules for this one were also requiring that I pass it on. Once again, apologies. I just have too much to do. But I thank you all the same.
Coincidentally, Chris Upp of The Lost News also dropped the same award on me back in September. So thank you also Chris! I wish I could return the favor, would you like some Cheese Doodles?
Going back to JULY last year (that's July of 2008 for you folks who may have forgotten it is now 2009), Damo at Angry Clown dropped the Arte Y Pico Award on my foot, which left me with a severe limp, but that's okay since I already had a limp - because of my unusually large club foot!
Oh, I am an ass. Truly, I am. Many apologies for the long and overdue thank yous.
Finally, the brilliant and always funny, Lobo over at Predator Press was so kind as to give me The 2008 Absolute Bestest Incomprehensive Awards Ceremony Ever Held By Predator Press in the History of Humanity! Award.
However, he didn't really give it to me, I gave it to myself. Well, he said we were all winners when he handed it out last year, and frankly, I was tired of feeling like I was a loser.
But I do have all these fine write-ups to inflate my ego (which is already quite immense despite my self-deprecating remarks.)
I must not suck all that bad for the recognition I have received from such wonderful folks in the blogosphere. But seeings as I haven't recognized the latest awards until now...I guess this means the long rumored all-expenses-paid trip to Vegas isn't forthcoming.
And I guess this also means I should take it as a sign that my career in show business won't be taking off either. My already-small role in "The Lance Armstrong Story" is being trimmed in favor of more shots of a cancerous testicle. And so I bid you adieu until next time.
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