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PIG
NEWS DIGEST
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SEPTEMBER 2010
A Redneck Tradition? Since my lovely bride is proud of her southern - redneck - roots, I’ll give the perpetrators, uh, participants, of this farce the benefit of considerable doubt. To promote my personal domestic tranquility, I’m willing to stipulate that the baptismal fusillade is a time-honored redneck tradition. Baptismal fusillade? You better believe it, Sparky. It happened in Fort Smith (Arkansas) at 2 a.m. on a Saturday, after the baptismal party took the festivities to the Progressive Men’s Club. That’s where the celebration crossed into the rampaging redneck zone. It started in grand redneck style, with a beatdown, then reached critical mass, when somebody started shooting. One attendee reported that her uncle was pistol whipped, while others, including her dad and a D. J., got their asses kicked. Just getting started, one of the attendees pulled out a gun and fired a few rounds in the air. Unsatisfied with the results, the armed and deranged redneck kicked it up several notches, by firing into the crowd. Believe it or not, he managed to miss, everybody. At that point, the proper authorities arrived to restore order, by bagging, tagging, and dragging six hormone gorillas to the local graybar hotel, on a laundry list of charges including curfew violations, weed possession, and packing a firearm. I’m compelled to admit that this redneck baptism stuff puts an entirely new spin on the venerable phrase ‘a baptism of fire’. Learn something new every day. Sanity Prevails In Ladies’ Night Court Battle A whining piece of crap named Roy Den Hollander is everything rational individuals HATE, DETEST, and DESPISE about law degree packing pimples on humanity’s butt. Like others of his ilk, Roy is making a nice living, by suing adult beverage wrangling capitalists over their ‘Ladies Night’ drink specials. Billing himself as an "anti-feminist" lawyer, Rancid Roy is, in reality, anti-CAPITALIST, since he reserves the right, for himself, to dictate how adult beverage wrangling capitalists run their businesses. Unable to comprehend a simple, straightforward, concept like "butt out, asshole", Rancid Roy is trying to intimidate ‘ladies night’ perpetrating club owners into a ‘just go the hell away’ cash contribution to the Rancid Roy Den Hollander retirement fund. Rancid Roy’s enRICHing scheme hit a sizeable speed bump, this week, in federal court at the 2nd Circuit Court of Appeals in Manhattan. After enduring as much of Rancid Roy’s "ladies night discriminates against men" drivel as they could stand, the judges banged the gavel down on Rancid Roy’s self-serving bull shit.
Is this the end of the line for Rancid Roy? You can’t be that clueless. He’s making noises about taking his fight to the U.S. Supreme Court. Asshole. Parting shot: If you live in the Empire State and run into Rancid Roy, we need you to do something for us. What? We need you to test Rancid Roy’s manhood, by giving him a swift kick in the nuts. AUGUST 2010
Payback’s A Bitch Why, you ask, does Raymond Reeder have the debris of a 1998 Saturn strewn on his lawn? Why indeed. What would make this Frederick (Maryland) denizen cut a car in half? I’ll give you a hint: in this case, it wasn’t the Devil who made him do it. The adventure in willful automotive destruction began, when Raymond’s girlfriend heard from her childhood friend. In addition to the usual pleasantries, childhood friend - henceforth Deadbeat - asked her chum - we’ll call her Softy - for some money. Deadbeat explained that she needed $2,000 to purchase the aforementioned Saturn plus make a down payment for an apartment. Time passed, and, despite frequent visits, Deadbeat never attempted to repay her debt. Eventually, after a long bout of silence, Softy broached the ‘where’s my money’ subject. Instead of ‘oops, my bad’, Softy got an earful of verbal abuse, when she suggested a modest, $10 a month, payment plan. Fed up with the way Deadbeat was abusing his squeeze, Raymond convinced Softy to let him handle it, and handle it he did. First, he shelled out $50 for a repo man to reclaim the Saturn. I know what you’re thinking, but Raymond had ‘that’ covered, since Softy was smart enough to keep the title for the Saturn, when Deadbeat bought it with borrowed money. Once he had the Saturn on his property, Raymond summoned some friends to help him with its destruction. First, they crushed it with four monster trucks. Next, they hacked off the roof, cut off the doors, then flipped it over onto its back for the coup de grace. Using a suitably-sized saw - it took 40 blades - they cut the squashed Saturn in half. When it the destruction was complete, Raymond left the upside down ‘car’ on his yard, with an American flag jammed into the exhaust pipe. Now that’s the way a redneck gets his pound of flesh from a deadbeat. Lifesaving Heroics Alesaundra Tafoya’s livesaving opportunity came, while she was spending some quality time with her father, Frank, in their Northern California home. Without warning, Frank collapsed, after taking the wrong mixture of medication. Up to the challenge, Alesaundra walked two blocks to Fire Station 243. Once there, she explained dad’s collapse in her own way. Her own way? Oh, did I forget to mention that Alesaundra is only 3 years old. After explaining that her dad was "frozen", Alesaundra took the firefighters to her home, where they found her dad, in need of immediate medical care. Alesaundra's jaunt to the fire station allowed the emergency responders to save Frank's life. You have an exceptional daughter, Frank. Give her a big hug from her fans here in the PIGdom. Another HOA Flag Brainfart Unless he’s been in hibernation, a Leveen (Arizona) denizen, Andy McDonel, knows that a letter from the infamous homeowners association is rarely good news. That’s right, PIGsters, another homeowners association has their panties in a wad over - TA DA - a flag. I know what you’re thinking, but this flag isn’t Old Glory. It’s the legendary Gadsden flag, the one which features a coiled snake, plus the words "Don’t Tread on Me". Although it first appeared in 1775, the Gadsden flag has been ‘adopted’ by the Tea Party patriots who give Obamunists heartburn. It’s that last fact which prompted the Avalon Village Community homeowners association, to fire off the letter ordering Andy to "remove debris" from his home, within 10 days, or face a $10 fine. Andy isn’t ready to furl the Gasden flag which he flies, proudly, to honor America’s Founding Fathers. He seems to be on solid ground, since prevailing Arizona statutes ‘allow for the display of U.S. flags, military flags, the Arizona state flag or tribal nation flags’. Andy insists that, given its history, the Gadsden flag falls under the ‘military flags’ category, so he’ll continue to fly it, until he’s ordered to take it down by a judge or ‘relevant authority’. Fly it with pride, Andy. The Free State of PIG has your back. PIGish American Tales Can You Hear Me Now? SF Gate served up this report on the magic ‘splashdown’ moment:
Attention road warrior cell idiots. If you’re driving, and you plow into a body of water, drop the phone and GET OUT OF THE CAR! Hey, baby! Watch THIS! Eager to show off, one of the motorcycle morons decided to reach out and grope one of the wenches. As ideas go, this one sucked. In a heartbeat, he lost control of his ride, crashed into his pal, sending both of them crashing into the pavement. In addition to the injuries that one of them incurred, while testing their ability to endure road rash, both of our Einsteins have been cited for ‘inattentive driving’. Apparently, shockingly, stampeding stupidity still isn’t a felony in Idaho. Parting shot: If the goal was to make a lasting impression on the ‘babes’, I think our hero ‘Road Rash’ just passed ‘GO’. Break out the ‘mission accomplished’ banner, speed bump Sparky. Paragon of Procrastination Duane’s procrastination yielded predictable results, this week, when one of the items on his ‘to do’ list - fix the tire on my van - reached critical mass. Thanks to a generous infusion of adult beverage, Duane shrugged it off, when that wonky tire fell off his van. Unfazed, he kept on going, for at least 11 miles, on 3 tires. Later, following up on a citizen’s report of Duane's road warrior antics, Genesee County Sheriff’s deputies went to Duane’s Bethany (New York) home to exchange pleasantries. During the informative conversation with Duane, the deputies learned that ‘fix the tire on my van’ isn’t the only relevant item on Duane’s ‘to do’ list. There’s also that 33 year old item which Duane never got around to attending: get my driver’s license renewed. The deputies were thrilled spitless over THAT. Bagged, tagged, and dragged? You better believe it, crown prince of procrastination Sparky. Rational American Adults Convene a Tea Party In Arizona Proving that their agenda for America involves much more than taxes and spending, some rational Tea Party adults held one of their familiar rallies on a stretch of the Arizona-Mexico border. Their purpose, as if you couldn’t guess, involves showing support for Arizona’s SB 1070, the law that some Libertard judge put on hold.
Like these rational, Tea Party, adults, We the PIGs salute Arizona for courageously trying to do the job Uncle Sam refuses to do. He Did WHAT? It’s not breaking news when a dude fondles the charms of a woman he doesn’t know, in public. It’s much closer to being news-worthy, when the horndog does it on front of his girlfriend. But what, you ask, is so off the scale that it makes Hambo gasp "HOLY F-ING CRAP"? What indeed. A 31-year-old Utah horndog, Adam Manning, was bagged, tagged, and dragged to a Utah graybar - for six months - after he - I am NOT making this up - fondled a maternity nurse who was wheeling Adam’s pregnant girlfriend to the delivery room. I’ll give you time to pick your jaw off the floor, and recover with the aid of an adult beverage. You’ll be thrilled to learn that Adam’s shyster made his own bid for ‘HOLY F-ING CRAP’, when he ran this excuse up the flagpole: Adam’s antics are due to a brain injury he incurred in a vehicle crash, 10 years ago. Thanks to this whopper, Adam will have his head examined to see if he’s bonkers, or stoned out of his so-called mind. I get that, but I respectfully suggest that they give his shyster, the same ‘WTF is your damage’ assessment. I’m just sayin’. You’re A Hero, Missy An 11-year old dachshund named Missy is all the proof you need to justify the phrase ‘man’s best friend’. Missy’s moment to shine came, when her owner collapsed in his home, while he was recovering from heart surgery. Was Missy up to the challenge? You better believe it Sparky.
You’re a good girl, Missy. Strippers Protest Toll Booth Fed up with the antics of the New Beginnings Ministry Toll Booth in Warsaw (Ohio), Tommy George, owner of the Foxhole booty parlor in Newcastle, decided to give the Morality Nazis a reality check. Unlike his Holy Roller tormentors, Tommy didn’t arm his minions with bullhorns. He didn’t use video cameras to record - then post online - the license plate numbers of the Toll Booth Morality Nazi adherents. Tommy had a better idea. Going with his strength, Tommy sent stripers in bikinis to sit in camp chairs in front of the Toll Booth on a Sunday morning. Did the Toll Booth’s chief Morality Nazi, pastor Bill Dunfree, get the message? Apparently not, because he’s more determined than ever to make an utter, and complete, ass of himself outside the Foxhole. I’m guessing he left his ‘turn the other cheek’ in his other set of pious punk panties. Strippers protest a Toll Booth? Now that’s a g-stringful of PIGish fun, I don’t care who you are. Oregon’s Lemonade Revolt For a 7-year-old Oregon City (Oregon, DUH) wenchlet named Julie Murphy, the idea was born while she watched one of her favorite cartoons. Inspired by the fun a cartoon pig named Olivia had running a lemonade stand, Julie decided to give it a try. When she asked her mom, Maria Fife, about it, the adventure in tyke capitalism took a momentous turn. Eager to help her daughter, mama Maria suggested that Julie take her lemonade stand on the road, to the forthcoming monthly art fair on Portland’s Northeast Alberta Street. Running with the idea, the energetic young capitalist began her preparations:
Everything was spiffy, for Julie, until SHE arrived. The humorless woman with the clipboard - don’t you just HATE that type - asked to see Julie’s temporary business license. When Julie and mom admitted they didn’t have one - a $120 mugging by the Nanny State - the clipboard cretin ordered them to get out of Dodge, or pay a $500 fine. Game, set, match? Not yet.
If you think this story ends there, with a little girl’s dreams shattered, get over it. The real fun is just getting started:
Initially, the relevant Multnomah County circled the wagons to defend their goose-stepping Clipboard Nazis. It might have worked, back in the day, but not in 2010. Predictably, the story reached critical mass in cyberspace in a New York minute, outraging rational adults around the world. When the blowback came, from all parts of America and points beyond, the Multnomah County officials beat a hasty retreat.
Too little, too late, dude. The Lemonade Revolt has begun. Man the Lemocades! Another Jersey Woman Goes Wild You’ll be thrilled to learn that Snooki isn’t the only New Jersey woman who has memorable, public, meltdowns. In fact, I’m willing to predict that, after you read about 21-year old Natalie Tice, you’ll consider Snooki a paragon of civility. A wench who leaves a lasting impression, Natalie hit a speedbump when she tried to board a bus at the Vineland Transportation Center (New Jersey, DUH). The 63-year-old bus driver wanted no part of Natalie, who had created a disturbance earlier, while riding his bus. Did Natalie take this banishment in stride? Hardly. Ignoring the driver’s refusal, Natalie boarded the bus, pummeled the driver, then stole $48 from him. As expected, Natalie’s antics registered on the radar of the proper authorities, who promptly bagged, tagged, and dragged her to a police cruiser for a ride to the nearest graybar hotel. That’s when Natalie kicked it - and assorted other things - up a couple notches.
Leaving nothing to chance, the police exiled Natalie to the South Jersey Healthcare-Regional Medical Center for a ‘what’s her damage’ evaluation. If it’s proven that this wild woman has all her marbles, she’ll be installed in a local graybar on charges of robbery and criminal mischief with her bail set at $100,000. Eat your heart out Snooki. Can You Hear Me Now? A Waterloo (Iowa) man, Carl Herold, took it for as long as he could, but eventually he reached his breaking point. Undoubtedly a music lover, Carl is, like most of us, a man who likes some kinds music more than others. One of the ‘other’ forms of music that Carl finds hard to take is the "hippie music" that keeps blasting out from the house across the street. When his irritation reached critical mass, our 62-year-old hero decided to give his noisy neighbor a taste of his own ‘can you hear me now’ medicine. How? You’re going to be thrilled.
Far from satisfied with the way things turned out, Carl is seriously contemplating fighting his arrest. JULY 2010
Shouldering Her Part of the Load Earlier this month, a judge ruled that cheerleading isn’t a ‘sport’, when it comes to a Title IX gender equality headcount. It probably made sense, at the time, but the judge needs to rethink that decision, in light of Kealy Oliver’s heroics. A 16 year old junior at Moore High School (Oklahoma), Kealy is also - TA DA - a cheerleader. So what? So, she learned a few useful tricks, while cheering the Moore High School Lions football team on to victory. What tricks? Among other things, Kealy has perfected the flying tackle. It happened, while Kealy was spending quality time at the Penn Square Mall:
If you’re not convinced that Kealy has the right stuff, you’re a hard sell. Maybe this PIG-worthy Kealy quote will get the job done: "At first, I thought I was just going to stop him, but he kept running. So I was like, okay, I guess you're going to the ground." You’re our kind of gal, darlin’. A Dissenting Opinion In the dead of night, someone made a subtle change to the sign in front of the Boulder County Justice Center (Colorado, DUH). When the paint dried, the visitor had left a pointed commentary by adding quote marks around the word ‘justice’, making the sign in front of the facility read: Boulder County "Justice" Center. As fun as this is, it gets better, because the ‘critique’ wasn’t noticed, by anyone, until four days later. As expected, when the alteration to the sign registered with the proper authorities, they were NOT thrilled spitless. The Boulder County Sheriff’s Department is ‘investigating’, and trying to track down these clever critics. Poor Baby The last time I checked up on the Fort Hood murderer - Major Nidal Hasan - he was rotting in the Bell County Jail (Mexas), awaiting trial. According to this Mexas fishwrap, he’s still there, but his life has - I’m thrilled to report - hit another speed bump. The bad news is that, despite his antics, he’s still getting a paycheck from Uncle Sam ($6,000 a month, minimum). The good news is that, none of the local banks will touch his money.
His shyster is whining that this bank boycott is "another example of the prejudice that he's been exposed to". This pagan scribbler thinks this is a mild dose of Mexas payback. At best, this is a small payment on the ‘debt’ We the People need to collect from this murdering, Jihadikaze piece of shit. Nice Try, Chief William Bowersock strayed onto the proper authority radar, when the Lima (Ohio) resident let his two houses become a notorious eyesore. Invoking the city’s nuisance laws, the relevant authorities ordered William to ‘clean up his act’. Game, set, match? Not yet. When he was summoned to a local court, William mounted an utterly PIG-worthy defense. Having seceded from the clutches of the local government, William had formed his own Indian reservation. That, he insisted, exempted his tribal lands from the city property code bureaucrats who have been hounding him for YEARS. It was a nice try, an utterly PIG-worthy try, but it fell on deaf ears. Mired in that pesky pestilence - objective reality - Judge Richard Warren gave CHIEF William 30 days to bring his properties into compliance. Life is just one damn thing after another Deceiving Appearances When she left Sun Credit with a bank bag begging to be stolen, Sun Credit’s petite, 98-pound, manager, Denise Shull, appeared to be easy pickings to a pair of desperados. Appearances, in this case, were very deceiving. For Denise, it was just another day at the office when she headed for her car at 7:30 p.m. That all changed, when a masked woman yanked open Denise's car door, punched Denise in the chest, then reached for the bag. Outweighed by at least 80 pounds, Denise wasn’t ready to give up that money without a fight.
Thanks to our feisty heroine, the woman who tried to rob her - Sun Credit’s former office manager, Christian Rodriguez - was bagged, tagged, and dragged to the Carson City (Nevada) graybar, where our heroine once worked. The long arm of the law also caught up with the other desperado, Victor Cano, who was hiding behind some rocks on Lone Mountain. If you’re thinking about taking on our heroine, we don’t advise it. Why? Maybe these choice Denise Shull words will give you a hint:
You’re our kind of gal, darlin’. Hero ‘Sticks’ It To An Intruder Our hero, a 70 year old Indianapolis (Indiana) denizen named Charles Jenkins, woke with a start, when he heard a loud noise in his living room. Fully awake, he rushed out to investigate. When he arrived, Charles spotted a man wearing a hoodie climbing through the broken living room window. Rising to the challenge, Charles snatched up his cane and put it to good use, beating the snot out of the intruder. Taking a hint, the newly enlightened desperado beat a hasty retreat. He jumped into a waiting truck and disappeared into the night. Nice going Charles. You’re our kind of dude. Fun Fact: Charles just got out of the slammer, where he was housed for bootlegging alcohol. Clowning Around In Wisconsin After ingesting a sufficient quantity of mind-altering substances, a 40 year old Cheesehead’s lunacy reached critical mass, in the wee hours of the morning. Around 4 a.m., he armed himself with a shotgun, then started blazing away at the invisible clowns who were infesting the home of his mommy’s home. The good news is that our hero managed to kill many members of the invisible, hostile, clown horde. The bad news is that in his zeal to ‘protect’ his mother, he fired off a few shots at mom and her boyfriend, as they tried to flee the scene of this fool’s rampage in their vehicle. You’ll be relieved to learn that basement ‘boy’ was bagged, tagged, and dragged to a local graybar, before he managed to hurt anyone who exists in the objective reality that this fool fled with such compelling enthusiasm. Is There ‘Life’ Without LeBron? Is there ‘life’ in Cleveland without LeBron? Probably, but you’ll want to doublecheck that with King. I’m pleased to report that, here and there, a few enterprising Cleveland capitalists are trying to cash in on their hoops hero’s defection to that den of iniquity, Miami. How? How indeed?
PIG News salutes the Cleveland capitalists who are turning LeBron lemons into ‘good riddance’ lemonade. Perilous Times In Payette When we hand out our end of the year awards, this action packed epic is destined to be hailed as the crime spree of the year. Suffice it to say it has EVERYTHING we look for in a news story. Episode 1: When Payette emergency responders arrived at the scene of a trailer park fire, they got a lot more than they wanted or needed. In addition to the fire, they found four pipe bombs lashed to a propane tank outside a trailer. On the off chance that the firemen couldn’t take a hint, the mad bomber left a note on the door, warning them that the house was bobby trapped. Episode 2: While the proper authorities evacuated more than 50 homes, and bomb technicians searched for more explosives, the cops responded to a call which reported a car fire near a storage unit North of town on Highway 95. A cursory inspection found that the car had been doused in gasoline, then set on fire. Episode 3: While the cops determined that the burning car, and the booby trapped trailer belonged to the same person - Catherine Carlson - other units responded to a report of a nude woman streaking down Highway 95 carrying what appeared to be a pipe bomb. Could it be Catherine ‘Crime Spree’ Carlson? You better believe it Sparky. As fun as this sounds, there’s one final tidbit that makes this one a PIG News CLASSIC. Catherine is no stranger to the police. In fact, ‘she’ has been in a huff since the Payette justice system busted ‘her’ in 2007, for driving on a suspended license. FUN FACT: ‘Catherine’ got her knickers in a knot because, during that 2007 bust, the officer who wrote her up, used ‘her’ PRE SEX CHANGE name, Daniel Carlson. And, now, you really do know the rest of the story. Finally tally for Catherine/Daniel: using weapons of mass destruction; arson; indecent exposure. Amazing American Tales Thanks For Dropping In, Now STOP IT Brake failure? Perhaps...accidents happen, but this isn’t the first time she has performed this particular stunt. Believe it or not, this is the second time, in a year, that she has smashed her car into that building. Rumors that the adult beverage wranglers told her ‘we really MUST stop meeting like this’ can’t be confirmed at press time. Taking Control In Georgia Lorraine demonstrated that she has ‘the right stuff’, this week, during her daily commute from Hiram to Atlanta, when the bus driver passed out. When life ‘threw’ her this curve, Lorraine was up to the challenge:
Lorraine emerged from her adventure bruised - her whole left side from her neck to her knee - but otherwise unscathed. You’re our kind of gal, Lorraine. Deceiving Appearances in Ohio A mere 4-11 in stature, Pat used a boyish appearance to convince Yum Yum that our horndog was a 14-year-old lad named Matt Abrams. The mutual attraction reached critical mass, when Pat/Matt and Pat's jail bait sweetie set up housekeeping in a local hotel for 3 memorable days, in June. Eventually, Yum Yum got nervous, prompting her to run away from the love nest she shared with Pat/Matt. So what? So, despite all the canoodling, Yum Yum, inexplicably, never found out that Patricia Dye is - TA DA - a WOMAN. She might not have noticed, but the cops figured it out in record time, prompting them to charge Patricia Dye with corruption of a minor and unlawful sex with a minor. How, exactly, did Patricia manage ‘unlawful sex’, without spilling the ‘oops, did I forget to tell you I’m a chick’ beans? It’s Enquiring Minds time, again, in the PIGdom. First Amendment Wins In Iowa Courtroom An Osceola County (Iowa) resident, Paul Dorr, is a dude who isn’t shy about sharing his opinions. His protests, letters to the editor, and leaflets, have earned Paul a well-deserved level of notoriety, in his patch of Iowa. That fun fact bit Paul Dorr on the butt, in July 2007, when he tried to obtain concealed weapon permits from Osceola County Sheriff Douglas Weber. Sheriff Weber turned Paul down, citing, among other things, “Concern from public. Don’t trust him.” A year later, Sheriff Weber refused to give Paul Dorr’s 18-year-old son, Alexander, a gun permit. Kicking it up several notches, Sheriff Weber told Paul Dorr that he would deny any/all future gun permit applications from him. Unwilling to accept Sheriff Weber’s antics, Paul Dorr took the matter to court. This week, U.S. District Court Judge Mark Bennett banged the gavel down on Sheriff Weber, ordering him to give Paul Dorr his gun permit. Just getting started, Judge Bennett ordered Sheriff Weber to complete a college-level course in the First Amendment.
The FSOP salutes Judge Bennett for his liberty-enforcing ruling. We’re particularly pleased that Sheriff Weber must get court approval for his mandated college class on the First Amendment, and must provide written proof that he completed the course with a passing grade. Parting shot: It’s a shame that there isn’t some way to get Judge Bennett to mandate a course on the entire U.S. Constitution for Messiah Barry. Bordering On Insanity If you think drugs and chronically needy invaders are the only things that cross our border with Mexico, without permission, get over it. This week, the denizens of El Paso (Mexas) got a rude awakening, when a raging drug gang gun battle spilled over the border from a shooting gallery named Juarez. If you think that the proper authorities in El Paso just shrugged it off, guess again. The were not the least bit amused, when seven bullets from the Juarez gun fight hit El Paso’s city hall. How mad were Mexas authorities? Very. In fact, Mexas Attorney General Greg Abbott fired off a WTF-O-GRAM to Messiah Barry, demanding more than Prompter Punk platitudes:
According to the El Paso Times, which reprinted Attorney General Abbott’s letter to Barry, this gun fight in the streets of Juarez is hardly an isolated incident. So far, this year, 1,300 people have been killed in Juarez. Am I the only one who didn’t know that ‘Juarez’ is Sombrero Stomper for "drug gang infested cesspool"? Probably, but I’m up to speed on that fun fact, now. Political Pulchritude Wads Panties In New Hampshire John Stephen is an Elephant Clan candidate for governor of New Hampshire, but his primary claim to FSOP fame is a properly-PIGish fundraiser, which was organized by a cigar distributor, Victor Vitale. I know what you’re thinking, but, as far as I can tell, the usual suspects aren’t setting their hair on fire over the link between John’s campaign and - GASP - big tobacco. The cow squeeze hit the rotating cooling device, when Victor Emerilized his plans for a ‘poolside barbecue with cigars on July 11 in Nashua’, without clearing the new, PIGish, elements with John Stephen and/or his campaign staff. That’s why the campaign flier for the event doesn’t mention the last minute addition of a - TA DA - bikini/hula hoop contest. John knows, now, but his response to the panty-twister didn’t save him from Korrectnik slings and arrows:
If you live in New Hampshire, you might want to consider making Victor Vitale your write-in candidate for governor. Unlike John Stephen, Victor - Cigars & Bikini Contests - Vitale is our kind of guy. An Utterly American Brewskie Adventure Since the news hounds at KHOU don’t give his name, we’ll call our hero ‘Brew’. Brew’s claim to PIGish fame is a properly-PIGish item that he has in his backyard. Brew insists that the Pepsi vending machine, which is loaded with beer, is his ‘personal refrigerator’. His neighbors, and the proper authorities, have another name for it.
Brew, dude, the entire Free State of PIG salutes you. A ‘personal refrigerator’ which dispenses brewskies for $1.50 apiece? There’s a name for that and it’s not ‘a neighborhood nuisance’. Here in the PIGdom, we call that entrepreneurial capitalism. JUNE 2010
Painting A Bull’s-Eye on Ronald McDonald The Food Nazis at CSPI (Center for Science in the Public Interest) have their junk science knickers in a painful knot over that kiddie pleasing icon of fast food, McDonald’s happy meal. Full of themselves, and IT, the CSPI punks have given Ronald McDonald and his cohorts, 30 days to stop using popular characters - like Shrek - and toys, to lure young un’s to their nutritional doom. Proving how detached they are from objective reality, CSPI has vilified happy meal promotions as "creepy and predatory".
If anyone deserves to be dragged, screaming and kicking, into a courtroom it’s CSPI. I think it’s an outrage that these goose-stepping Food Nazis call what they’re doing ‘science’. Bounty Hunter Returns Home The last time we visited Gary Faulkner, he was languishing in a Pakistani graybar, after that nation’s proper authorities found him in a rather rugged region of northern Pakistan. Noting Gary’s firearm, sword, and night vison gear, they asked him the Pakistani equivalent of WTF, an interrogative which elicited a thrilling response. Unamused by Gary’s one man mission to tracked down Osama bin Laden, then forcibly evict him from the human population, the proper authorities made noises about punishing Gary for his antics. I’m pleased to report that Pakistan got over it. Instead of charging him, they turned Gary over to American authorities, who sent him home. I know that Gary has unresolved - serious - health issues, but I’m compelled to question our government’s inability to recognize this bounty hunter’s potential. Why send him home, when he’s our top choice to lead the fight against the Islamikazes in Afghanistan? I’m just sayin’. It Could Have Been Worse A half dozen passengers were far from thrilled, after they smelled smoke, a perk that was not included, when they hired the limo to squire them around the Bay State. The good news is that their driver was up to the challenge, and had the presence of mind to pull off the highway, to avoid a fiery disaster. The bad news is that the driver decided to pull his burning ride into a nearby gas station. A gas station + a burning car = a disaster waiting to happen. It was dicey, for a few minutes, when flames erupted in the limo's engine compartment. Luckily, three units from the local fire department arrived in time to prevent a towering, gas station on fire, inferno. PIGish safety tip: If your car catches fire, by all means pull off the road. BUT, when you select a spot to watch it burn, do NOT, get ‘er done in a gas station, even if it’s the local BP pitstop. I’m just sayin’. An Utterly Flori-DUH Adventure From our ‘eat your heart out Joseph Heller’ news desk, we bring you this bra-busting adventure. Our heroine is a Flor-DUH attorney wench who did a header into the infamous Catch-22, when she attempted to pay a visit to her client, who is a guest at the Miami Federal Detention Center. The fun started, when her underwire bra set off the metal detector. Rolling with the punches, our heroine retreated to the ladies room, where she removed her bra. Did that get the job done? Nope. When she tried to enter the detention center, the guards refused to let her gain entry. Why? Because, she wasn’t wearing a bra. Fox News said that officials at the detention center didn’t want to discuss it. I don’t blame them. If I had my head that far up my own butt, I wouldn’t want to talk about it either. Excuses, Excuses When a Mexas meathead, Mizueo Truan, plowed his Hummer into a Corpus Christi utility pole, he insisted that it wasn’t his fault:
Nice try, dude, but your excuse didn’t fly with the proper authorities:
During the investigation, the proper authorities found proof for a more likely reason for the accident:
Our crash test dummy is trying to own up to it all, but he’s still stuck in excuse mode: bad Karma. Nice try, dude, we I have a better explanation: drunk as a skunk. Another Kids Meals Uproar When it comes to those specially packed meals for tykes, fast food wranglers can’t get out of their own way. Ironically, the problem isn’t with the food itself. The problem is with the tyke pleasing goodies that the fast food capitalists include with their kiddie meals. With McDonald’s happy meals, the usual suspects whined that the toys programmed tykes to develop bad eating habits. This time out, the source of angst involves the disco CD that the Wendy’s burger chain includes with their kids’ meals. Where’s the beef? It’s the fun fact that some CDs include ‘racy lyrics’.
Wendy’s suits immediately yanked the Disco Fever CD. The kids will have to settle for one of 3 other CDs, which include toe tappers like the Jackson 5's "ABC" and Kool & the Gang’s "Celebration". When pressed for a comment Wendy’s officials served up the functional equivalent of ‘D’Oh’. A Very Special Delivery Since our hero, Brian Hines, toils as a plumber, it’s more than a tad ironic that his heroics took place on the floor of his own bathroom. The fun started, when 38-year-old Brian’s terminally preggers wife, Andrea, started have those tattletale ‘ready or not, here I come’ contractions. Was it time to make a mad dash to the hospital? Not necessarily. Using Andrea’s first pregnancy as a benchmark, the couple, quite reasonably, concluded that, like their first child, Alexander, the new member of their family was hours away from that grand entrance into the world. Life had a nifty surprise in store for the couple, and so did their second child, Daniel Michael Lee Hines, who was much more impatient than his big brother. Seven minutes after that first contraction, aided by detailed instructions from a Waterford Township (Michigan) emergency dispatcher - Joy Nick, Brian delivered his son. Brian is, obviously, a man of many talents. Pothole Vigilante Potholes! They’re a pestilence which plagues motorists from the Big Apple to the Sanctuary City of Angels, and every place in between. For our purposes, ‘every place in between’ includes Omaha (Nebraska), where potholes have reached epidemic proportions. Epidemic proportions isn’t Hambo hyperbole, because, in April 2010, there were an estimated 200,000 potholes in the city. Determined to address the problem, Omaha’s Elected Tormentors paid $1.2 million to have four private crews wrangle the potholes on the city’s major streets. Now, that task is finished, and the city has shelled out $450,000 in overtime money to have city crews fill in the potholes on residential streets. Although the city is on the job, one Omaha resident, Zac Handler, isn’t willing to wait for them to get around to the street in front of his apartment. Instead of complaining about the potholes in his neighborhood, Zac decided to invest his time and $$$ into getting the job done, personally:
I’m pleased to report that, although they don’t advocate it, the city’s road wranglers aren’t painting a bureaucratic bull’s-eye on Zac. In fact, Omaha’s top street maintenance engineer cited at least two other pothole vigilantes who tried their hand at road repair. Granted, the job might need to be redone, but the repairs should be good enough to civilize the residential streets, until the pros from Dover show up with all their gear. You’re our kind of dude Zac. Capitalism, Or Extortion? Operating out of Guthrie (Oklahoma), Ron Edwards, owner of RJS Properties, is a man who loves a bargain. He’s the kind of dude who likes to turn a tidy profit on a small investment. For example, he purchased a small plot of land at a county auction, for $1,584 dollars, then turned around and tried to get some interested parties to pay him $80,000 for it. In his mind, it’s an offer they can’t refuse.
This isn’t the first time that Ron Edwards has tried to spread his special brand of joy, and it won’t be the last. His ‘edge’, in these matters, is his access to critical information. In most cases, his ‘customers’ don’t know that a key parcel adjacent to their property has been auctioned off for delinquent taxes, until they get one of Ron Edwards’ ‘hello neighbor, guess what’ missives in their mailbox. That brings us to our essential question. Is Ron Edwards a capitalist who makes keen investments? Or, is Ron Edwards an extortionist who uses the ‘letter of the law’ to fleece his unsuspecting, unwilling, clients whom he has trapped between a rock and a hard place? I’ll let you make that call, PIGster Sparky. Standing Up For Arizona When it comes to Arizona’s headline grabbing fight to stem the border jumping scumbag tidal wave, the MSM only tells you one side of the story. When the Elected Tormentors in Libertard dominated sanctuary cities vote to boycott the Grand Canyon State, it’s reported with ‘stop the presses!’ fervor. When Colonistas stage protests, anywhere in the USA, the reporting is so overblown, it’s completely detached from objective reality. But, on June 6th, when sovereign American individuals, from all parts of the USA, rally in support of SB 1070, the MSM can’t be bothered. Granted, it wasn’t as impressive as the September 11th Tea Party march in Washington D.C., but it was a sign that some American’s ‘get it’ when it comes to defending our national sovereignty.
The FSOP salutes every rational adult who braved the infamous Arizona heat to show support for SB 1070. When In Doubt, Prosecute the Intended Victim The hero of our story is an 80-year-old Korean War vet who loves on the West Side of crime-plagued Chicago. Painfully aware of the crime tsunami which is threatening to engulf the city, our hero weighed his options, after he and his 83-year-old wife were robbed at gunpoint by three armed intruders, recently. Fully aware of Chicago’s handgun ban - a ban which only disarms law-abiding citizens - our hero purchased a gun, to give himself a fighting chance, the next time trouble came calling. Our hero’s purchase came in handy, when another armed and dangerous Windy City lowlife - Anthony Nelson - broke into our hero’s home, endangering the couple and their 12-year-old great-grandson. After Anthony reeled off two shots, our hero evicted the scumbag from the human gene pool, with a single, well-aimed, shot to Anthony’s chest. Are Windy City officials willing to cut our Second Amendment hero some slack on his ‘illegal’ gun? According to Investors Business Daily, the city is still thinking that one over. If they want to be on the receiving end of impressive blowback, pressing charges will seal the deal. Parting shot: What kind of sick, twisted, place is Chicago, when a man defending his family from an armed intruder is vilified as a menace to society? It’s the kind of sick, twisted, place that spawns cretins like Richard Daley, Al Capone, and a Dumbo-eared commie named Barry. Excuse Me For one Mexas dude, Germaine Hodge, working as a manager at a San Antonio McDonald’s chain was an enriching experience. It took a while, but eventually, due to shift manager attrition, Germaine matriculated into a position that allowed him to deposit all of the restaurant proceeds. Taking that fiduciary task where it didn’t belong, Germaine managed to pocket nearly $70,000 dollars ($67,336) of Ronald McDonald’s money. Eventually, someone higher up the management food chain noticed the missing deposits and asked Germaine about them. Initially, Germaine tried to dazzle his superior with inaccurate receipts, without success. When that failed, Germaine resigned, explaining that he’d been diagnosed with cancer and needed to begin radiation therapy immediately. Determined to go for the gold, Germaine kicked it up several notches with a note from his doctor. Fun Fact 1: The medical practitioner cited in the note specializes in obstetrics and gynecology. Fun Fact 2: The phone number listed for the doctor belongs to Germaine. Fun Fact 3: Germaine was bagged, tagged, and dragged to a Bexar County graybar for his sticky fingered antics. Unless he scores the $50,000 bail, he’s going to be there a while. Location, Location, Location The festivities began, while an off-duty, Windy City, cop was sitting on the front porch of his home, and he spotted a dude breaking into a car. Bestirring himself, the officer headed on over to make an arrest. Game, set, match? Hardly. This was just the opening act of an improbable chain of events. Instead of cooperating, the desperado put up a fight, kicking his antics up several notches, by threatening to come back to kill the officer and the officer’s wife. Determined to make everyone miserable, the desperado made a run for it. He fled into some nearby woods, shedding articles of clothing in the process. It was a nice try, but the forces of justice managed to bag, tag, and drag him for burglary and aggravated assault on a police officer. As fun as that sounds, it’s only the beginning:
Holy chain reactions, Batman! MAY 2010
Wenchlet Gets A Gut Check It happened in Troutdale (Oregon), while 12 year old Mackenzie Hughes was home alone. It started with a ‘bang’, when she heard someone breaking into her home. Up to the challenge, our wenchlet heroine grabbed a cell phone, dialing 911, while she retreated to the relative safety of her bedroom.
I’m pleased to report that, shaken, but otherwise unscathed, Mackenzie courageously sealed the deal on the trio of home invaders, who were quickly bagged, tagged, and dragged to a local graybar. You’re our kind of gal, darlin’. Mexico’s Pirates? Mexican pirates? You bet, and it’s probably stranger than you suspect. Why? Unlike their seafaring, Somali, counterparts, these Mexican buccaneers are plying their trade on Texas’ Falcon Lake. In case you wondered, Falcon Lake a body of fresh water that straddles the America-Mexican border. If you’re out fishing on the lake, and stray to far from your friendly shore, you’re likely to be fleeced, by armed, and dangerous, Sombrero Stomping pirates.
I think it’s time to put this south of the border pestilence out of our misery, permanently. It’s time to nuke Mexico back to the primordial ooze, then nuke them some more, just for the hell of it. PETA’s New Game Plan From our ‘old dogs learn new tricks’ file, I bring you an interesting story about the PETA punks. Although they’re best known for their ‘provocative’ stunts, and headline grabbing antics, those aren’t the only plays in their playbook. According to this News Max piece, PETA is putting its money where its mouth is. How? How indeed. They’re buying stock in the companies that they target, in order to give them a voice - a stockholder’s voice - at the corporate table:
When they shout their views outside corporate headquarters, PETA is just another group of loons. But, when they air the same views as a stockholder, they’re given a chance to make their case. Bold new concept. Fast Food Success Story I have thrilling news about that Food Nazi nightmare, KFC’s infamous ‘Double Down’ sandwich. Although I still think this goodie is KFC’s ‘bite me’ to Food Nazis, the fast food capitalists steadfastly deny it. Instead, they insist that this heavy duty heartburn is a special, limited run, promotion. In theory, the 6-week promotion ended on May 23, 2010. Those plans changed, however, thanks to the response from fast food afficionados, who are gobbling up the Double Down in impressive numbers:
If I can find someone with a forklift to cart me around, afterwards, I, too, might take a run at a Double Down. A Southern-Fried Panty Twister The eye of this bureaucratic storm is a half dozen sorry looking buildings, which were constructed in the mid 1800s. Since the structures aren’t even close to being ‘up to code’, a North Carolina city’s code enforcement goose-steppers have pinned a ‘blight’ label on the venerable buildings, a fun fact which puts this on the ragged edge of demolition. No harm, no foul? Not exactly, because this code enforcement drama has a fun-filled Korrectnik twist:
Since 2008, the property owner has been trying to get his eyesores listed on the National Register of Historic Places, without success. Maybe Messiah Barry will be more motivated to turn the cabins into another Misery Shrine. If that’s the plan, Ali better get ‘er done, ASAP, because the city wants the venerable eyesores fixed up in 6 months, or they’ll flatten them. Parting shot: Why is Al Sharpton messing around in Arizona, when he’s needed closer to home, in the heart of Dixie? It’s Enquiring Minds time, again, in the PIGdom. Homeowner Sends A Pointed Message If you think that pernicious pest, the neighborhood busybody, is strictly a Brit phenomenon, get over it. A San Francisco dude, Jim Siegel, has one, or more, of the pests making his life miserable over his on-going renovation/restoration of a Blight on the Bay landmark. Since he bought the 120 year old Westerfield House for $750,000, in 1986, Jim has poured his heart, soul, and money into his home. Since Jim has his financial limitations - estimates to repaint his house rang from $65,000 to $85,000 - he is doing a lot of the restoration work, personally, a fun fact which put him in the neighborhood busybody bull’s-eye.
Since Jim’s tormentors don’t have the nads to confront our hero personally, Jim deployed his a ‘to whom it may concern’ response:
Nicely done, Jim. Very nicely done. Your PIGish ‘bite me’ rocks our world. Defending English In Jackson The front lines in our war to preserve American sovereignty aren’t always located on our porous borders. This week, a small, utterly American town, Jackson, New York, threw down the gauntlet when it decreed that, henceforth English is its OFFICIAL language.
From sea to shining sea, sovereign American individuals are joining the fight to defend American sovereignty. PIG salutes Jackson, New York for doing a job that one notable American, Uncle Sam, steadfastly refuses to do. Parting shot: Unlike the left coast, Elected Tormentor, weasels in L.A. and Frisco, Jackson council member Roger Meyer gets it:
Truer words, PIGsters. Truer words. It Pays To Stop At Taco Bell? A 20-something Buckeye State babe got a lot more then she expected, when she pulled up to the drive-up window at a Dayton (Ohio, DUH) Taco Bell. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong. The only one who ended up with heartburn, in this case, is the window minion, who mistakenly handed over a bag full of money - the $2,000 morning bank deposit. D’Oh! Was our lucky customer a firm believer in ‘honesty is the best policy’? Not exactly.
I haven’t visited a Taco Bell in eons, but, I’m willing to get ‘er done, if they’re handing out money, instead of heartburn. Stranger Than Fiction Buckeye State Rampage
This squirrel rampage in Northeastern Ohio, is the best explanation, so far, for PIGster King’s mysterious disappearance. Send up a flare, dude, and we'll mount a rescue mission. Sgt. Pork is rarin' to go. Curb Service Yahoo News filed this report from McMinnville, Oregon:
McMinnville Fire Station’s new drive up service is now open for business. A Second Amendment Saga A Keystone State desperado, Robert Landis, started off well, when he targeted an Allentown (Pennsylvania) Valero gas station. Despite the presence of several customers, the mid-morning robbery came off as planned. That all changed, when Robert jumped into his getaway ride - a station wagon - and someone from the gas station exercised his, her, hisher, or its Second Amendment rights. In addition to shattering the rear window of Robert’s getaway ride, the fusillade left our desperado with a painful memento, a bullet wound in his shoulder. Life is just one damn thing after another and Robert’s day wasn’t exactly headed for a happy ending:
The FSOP salutes this unnamed Second Amendment hero for their marksmanship. Desperado’s Squeeze-Play A Utah desperado found himself in a tight spot, but, thanks to a bit of luck, he managed to squeeze his way out of it. His shoplifting caper hit its first speed bump, when someone spotted him helping himself the merchandise at a Salt Lake City Shopko. His luck went to crap, when a store detective chased him down, took him into custody, then waited for the cops to arrive. Game, set, match? Not exactly. Somewhere between ‘bagged’ and ‘tagged and dragged’, our desperado caught a break:
The good news, for him, is that he got away. The bad news is that he just kicked a class B misdemeanor (shoplifting) up to a felony (escaping from custody). D’oh! Courting Disaster In Illinois When 19-year-old Jennifer LaPenta left her Round Lake Park (Illinois) home, Monday morning, the only item on her agenda was a sweat-inducing trip to a local gym, so she dressed accordingly. That choice of attire - sweat pants and a T-shirt - proved to be her undoing, when she added another item to her itinerary. The fun started, when a friend, whom Jennifer met at the gym, asked our heroine for a lift to the Lake County Courthouse. Jennifer’s life took an unplanned turn, while she was seated in the gallery, waiting for her friend’s case to be called. That’s when the presiding judge - Helen Rozenburg - singled Jennifer out for special attention. Why? The black robe didn’t like the PIG-worthy message on Jennifer’s T-shirt: "I own the pussy, so I make the rules."
Is there a lawsuit in the offing? Perhaps, but Jennifer hasn’t pulled the trigger on that one, yet. Parting shot: I think Judge Rozenburg over-reacted. Since Jennifer didn’t dress for ‘court’, and wasn’t scheduled to appear, the judge should have simply asked her to leave, or cover up the ‘offending’ prose. Instead, Judge Rozenburg when black robe bonkers. Another Border Jumper Outrage If you wonder why Arizona’s LEGAL denizens are boiling mad, here’s one compelling reason. I don’t give a rat’s ass what they do on THEIR side of the border, but we must put an end to it here:
Mexico is exporting much more than its poverty. It’s also exporting its crime. It’s time for We the People to put a stop to it, RIGHT DAMN NOW. APRIL 2010
Tough As Nails Look up ‘tough as nails’ in your dictionary, and you should find a picture of 61 year old Virginia dude, Donald Minter. Like those legendary Timex watches, Donald took a licking and kept on ticking, until the proper authorities got deadly serious.
Taser proof? Yes, yes, yes, yes. Bullet proof? Not exactly. The only rights they’ll administer to Donald ‘Timex’ Minter are those last rights. That’s right, PIGsters, Donald achieved room temperature after, in essence, forcing the cops to hit him with their best shot. Bagged In Flori-DUH Ruben Torres, an off duty security guard, used his second amendment rights to teach a Flori-DUH desperado the error of his ways. Literally, the right man, in the right place, Ruben proved he had the right stuff, when a robber - Floyd Francis - strolled into the Space Coast Credit Union, where Ruben was conducting some essential banking business.
As expected, the cops, while appreciative, are spewing the requisite ‘don’t try this at home’ drivel. I get that, but I refuse to insult Ruben with that crap. You’re a hero, Ruben, and we salute you for keeping your cool under pressure. Parting shot: What’s up with this bag crap, desperado dude? Why put it over your head, then take it off again, so the teller can fill it with money? It’s Enquiring minds time again, in the PIGdom. No Ifs, Ands, Or ‘Butts’ If you’re planning to spend time in ‘Mayberry with a beach’ - A.K.A. Kure Beach, North Carolina - this summer, I have discouraging news for you. There won’t be any visions of Southern Belle booty in a thong bikini this year. That particular southern exposure has been banished from this wide spot on a North Carolina road:
Now that’s my idea of a real, uh, BUMmer. Granite State Dude Gets Too Close To His Work Richard Simard’s claim to fame is the fun fact that he’s one of New Hampshire’s state liquor commissioners. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make his recent road warrior antics PIG-worthy. That’s right, PIGsters, Little Dicky just got busted for DUI. Holy occupational hazzards, Batman!
Dicky, dude, you’re getting way too close to your work. Have you considered cutting back on the sauce and taking up weed, instead? Bold new concept, Dude. Tripped Up On April 7, after he finished his 15-month stint in a Maine graybar suite, for cocaine trafficking, Glenn Watson didn’t stay off the drug enforcement radar very long. Within days, the Bangor police and Maine’s Drug Enforcement Agency (MDEA) learned from a tip that Glenn was selling cocaine from his Bangor motel room. Eventually, when Glenn hid the road, MDEA agents asked Bangor cops to stop Glenn, thus hoping to catch him with the goods. That’s when this otherwise mundane story veered off toward the PIG News bull’s-eye:
Caught with his pants down? You better believe it, busted for drug dealing (again) Sparky. Parting shot: I know what you’re thinking, and I had the same idea, when I first spotted the ‘pants down’ news headline. In this case, at age 58, Glenn isn’t in that prime ‘pants on the ground’ demographic. Location, Location, Location The notion - opening a properly pious pharmacy - was not, in and of itself, fatally flawed. Emulating a formula which proved successful in Louisiana, Florida, and Indiana, a pair of true believers decided to open their properly pious pharmacy in Chantilly, Virginia. Their outpost of properly pious capitalism would not sell birth control pills, condoms, porn, tobacco or makeup. It would they believed, attract other, like-minded, true believers to patronize their Divine Mercy Care Pharmacy. They tested the idea in the marketplace, for nearly two years, but never attracted enough customers. Why? Why indeed.
Did the marketplace pass judgement on this pious pharmacy? It did for this particular one, which seemed to be poorly located, and badly run. The margin of error for an artificially restricted market niche is notoriously narrow, making success harder than it needs to be. Admitted, this particular properly pious pharmacy failed, but the concept is still in play. No Means NO, Sparky The nicest thing I can say about a 20-year-old sophomore at Brigham Young University, is that he’s a man of action. That’s especially true where romance is concerned. Our hero, Stetson Hallam, started his trek into PIGish infamy, when he spotted an especially fetching 19-year-old hottie who lived in the same apartment complex where our hero lived. Smitten, he deployed all his best moves on the wench, while he served as her home teacher for the local Mormon toll booth. Unhappily, his best moves failed to win her heart, so he Emerilized his wooing, aided and abetted by a 21st century Romeo’s preferred deal sealers: a stun gun and a pair of handcuffs:
A lot has changed, since I spent quality time in Provo (the city where BYU is located). When, exactly, did handcuffs and a stun gun replace candy, flowers and sweet nothings? It’s Enquiring Minds time again in the PIG Bunker. Billboards Blister Barry From sea to shining sea, rational American adults are shaking off their lethargy and mounting a vigorous defense of their inalienable individual liberty. One venue for this counterattack against the Socialist tide is the oft maligned roadside billboard. From coast to coast, and numerous places in between, these stationary exercises in free speech are sounding the alarm. Last week, two ‘anti-Obama’ billboards created a memorable uproar in Atlanta. Everyone wanted to know who perpetrated it. This week, NBC’s Peach State affiliate, 11Alive News, filed this report:
If you want to support this effort, visit the aforementioned website, and join the Americans who are lending financial support to these heros of free speech:
Wake up America and join the fight to rescue this land conceived in liberty before it’s too late. A Very Inconvenient Truth One of the primary, Globally Warmed, whoppers spewed by the Tennessee Tonnage, and others of his ilk, is under assault, this week. For years, they bloviated that, unless we return to Stone Age technology, the North Pole could be free of summer ice by 2013. Obviously, somebody forgot to copy Mother Nature on that stop the presses prediction:
Isn’t it time for rational adults to send a strike force into the Fat Cave, to repossess the Tennessee Tonnage’s Oscar, plus his Nobel Prize? Parting shot: Unwilling to defend his whopperthon, the Tennessee Tonnage, goes to great lengths, to avoid confronting hard questions. His yammerthon at Duke University is a prime example of his craven cowardice:
What are you trying to hide, fatass? Fat Nazis Aren’t Clowning Around With nothing better to do, some rampaging Fat Nazis painted a ‘yer outta here’ bull’s-eye on a beloved, kid friendly, icon of fast food capitalism: Ronald McDonald. If you listen to the cow squeeze spewed by the goose-steppers at Corporate Accountability International, Ronald McDonald is the reincarnation of the legendary Pied Piper of Hamlin. In this case, the Fat Nazis envision this clownish Pied Piper leading America’s ‘children’ down the french fry strewn road to plodding porker oblivion.
The good news is that this Fat Nazi clowning around is not backed up by Nanny State Coercion. The bad news is that, sooner or later - empowered by DeathCare - the Nanny State will start dictating what each no longer sovereign American individual can, and can’t, eat. Vegan Vigilante Armed with a knife, a Hoosier halfwit, Anthony Coffman, went on a rampage in an Edinburgh (Indiana) outpost of grocery wrangling capitalism. The self-appointed savior of feckless fatties, Anthony staged a frontal assault on the meat department in Jay C Food Store.
When last seen, Anthony was undergoing a ‘mental evaluation’. That’s probably a wise precaution, but I still think some lab coated hooligan needs to assess the long-term, toxic, effects which ensue from a steady diet of rice cakes and crab grass. I’m just sayin’. Parting shot: It’s a good thing Anthony isn’t a Herman Melville fan, or he’d be patrolling the grocery store’s candy aisle, carrying a harpoon, bellowing, "WHALE HO". MARCH 2010
Sock It To Me It’s springtime in Anapolis (Maryland), and you all know what that means. You’ve been waiting for it all Winter, especially if you’re affiliated with the Eastport Yacht Club, which is honoring a 30-year-old tradition. What is this venerable Spring-welcoming tradition? It’s the annual burning of the socks, of course.
A Spring-welcoming burning of the socks? Bold new concept. I could have used that during my formative years, when I perpetrated another of Spring’s annual rituals: the yearly cleaning out of the gym locker. Holy toxic waste, Batman! A Rustic Retard Adventure A pair of Green Garden Township (Illinois) dipsticks - Matt Eastman and Nick Bastian - were terminally bored, so they armed themselves with a .45-caliber handgun and a .22-caliber rifle, then hit the road in search of adventure. They roamed the Illinois by-ways, until they found what they needed, an abandoned farmhouse which was begging for a new set of bullet holes. After unleashing their rustic retard fusillade at the farmhouse, our heroes moved on down the road in search of another target. When they found it, our heros stopped their ride, so they could unleash another hail of bullets. Did they hit their target? The answer is ‘yes’, if you define ‘their target’ as Matt’s hand. That’s right PIGsters, this clown shot himself in the hand. Thanks to their antics, these 20-year-old rustics are headed for another classic retard adventure, a justice system encounter:
This puts a whole new spin on the phrase, getting a ‘hand job’. Thirsty In Pennsylvania When you feel that irresistible need for a drink, nothing, nobody, will prevent you from getting that alcohol infusion. Our hero, Elbert Thompson II, took the forgoing, PIGish, fact to the limit, this week. How? Needing a drink in the worst way, Elbert got up out of his bed in Allegheny General Hospital then headed right out the door. Dressed only in his hospital gown, he walked out the of hospital and sauntered into a nearby adult beverage emporium with the intravenous needle still stuck in his arm. Wanted for charges resulting from two bank robberies in Michigan, plus other, unrelated charges in another Pennsylvania county, Elbert wasn’t in a cooperative mood, when the proper authorities showed up to exchange pleasantries. In fact, Elbert got so snarky with the cops that they had to taser our hero into a more cooperative frame of mind. Hospital gown? IV needle in his arm? Tasered into compliance? Now that’s my idea of thirsty. Utterly American Epics We Can’t Keep Meeting Like This A man who flouts the rules of driving engagement, Randolph has racked up, at minimum, 40 traffic citations, during the past two decades. Along the way, in, uh, recognition of his antics, Randolph has, repeatedly, had his driving privileges revoked. I’m not certain how many times he had his license pulled, but I do know that he just got bagged, tagged, and dragged, again, for driving on a suspended or revoked license. That runs his total for this ‘I don’t need no stinking license’ offense to 15, in the last 13 years.
Busted for a seatbelt infraction? What the hell are you smoking, dude? Given his ignoble track record, the least he can do is keep a low profile when he’s behind the wheel. Since Randolph is such a menace to navigation in Flori-DUH, I’m compelled to invoke my lovely bride’s all-purpose solution: just shoot this dumb, road warrior, bastard. Gotcha! After studying the Topeka (Kansas) Smoke Nazi edict, Jim came up with his plan. Under the Smoke Nazi edict, there are a few exemptions to the law which bans smoking in public places. Under the law, the adult beverage emporium owned by his wife - Hot Pockets Billiards and Sports Bar - is NOT one of the exemptions. But, a retail tobacco shop is exempted. So what? So, a too clever for his own good, Jimmy hit upon a nifty plan that would allow patrons of his wife’s establishment to circumvent the smoking ban. How? You’re going to be thrilled. The cornerstone to Jim’s PIG-worthy plan is a new business named Hot Pockets Retail Cigarette Outlet, which, is, as if you haven’t guessed, located INSIDE his wife’s outpost of capitalism. Game, set, match? Not exactly. Since they weren’t born yesterday, the Tobacco Nazis weren’t impressed by the ‘walls’ which separated the bar from the retail smokes outlet. Why? Even Jimmy had to know that putting strips of duct tape on the floor to mark the boundaries of his retail smokes outlet wasn’t going to cut it. Busted? You bet, but they added insult to injury, by fining Jim $50, as an individual, not a business owner. Nice try, Jim, but - pun attempted deliberately - no cigar. Off The Scale Courage Our cabbie turned into a superhero, AFTER, the punk with a gun shot him, multiple times:
When last seen, our hero cabbie was in critical condition, in a local hospital. Despite my pagan credentials, I’m asking you to pray to the deity of your choice for this hero’s complete, and speedy, recovery. VICTORY! I’m delighted to report that the legendary, American warship, Old Ironsides, has scored another victory, this week. Before I get to that, I’ll refresh your memory on this insanity, with this November 2009 entry from our Golden Oinks awards page Braying Jackasses of the Week: A living piece of American history, the USS Constitution, is still alive an kicking in its berth in the Charlestown Navy Yard (Boston). Twice a day, everyone within earshot is updated on Old Ironsides’ status, thanks to a tradition which dates back to 1798: at 8 a.m., and again at sunset, Old Ironsides fires two of its cannons. As traditions go, this one gets our vote. Unhappily, some of Old Ironsides’ Charlestown neighbors have their panties in a wad over this twice a day cannonade.
This pissed of PIGster DEMANDS that these whining asshats STFU, stat. If you make me come over there, I’ll be compelled to ram one of Old Ironsides’ cannon balls down your pie hole. You don’t even want to know what I plan to do with that long pole used to ram to shot home. Fast forward to the present, and we have this outstanding news report:
Three cheers for Old Ironsides, which scored a victory without leaving the dock. I think that merits an extra cannonade. Foiled In Flori-DUH Thanks to a warning from an alert neighbor, some Lake City (Flori-DUH) denizens were able to thwart an asshat who was trying to break into their ride. It was only 5:40 am, but the car owners had all their synapses wide awake and in prime operating condition. Thanks to that terror of technology, the remote car locks control on their keychain, the car owners were able to trap the thief inside their car, until the proper authorities showed up:
PIGish kudos are conferred on the car owners who helped bag, tag, and drag this thieving punk, with the simple press of a button. Show, Tell, Ka-BLAM, Oops! The Good: A Civil War re-enactor, you’re sharing some firearms history - a black powder muzzleloader - to a Reed Point high School (Montana) American history class. The Bad: The gun you’re using for show and tell performs its prime function:
The Ugly: Your name is Dwain Haggard and you’re the ‘safety first’ superintendent of the aforementioned Montana cess-school. The Blowback: Dwain’s show, tell, Ka-BLAM, oops antics elicited a properly-PIGish response: ‘One father told Haggard he laughed until he cried after his son explained what happened.’ Feeling "Blue" in Louisiana
A response like that, is enough to drive Franklinton’s Elected Tormentors to drink, on - GASP - Sunday. Feeling "Blue" In Tennessee If you live in Tennessee and think your blue-tinted headlights make a bold fashion statement for your ride, I have thrilling news for you. The proper authorities are going to make you pay dearly for that "blue" mood lighting:
Don’t say I didn’t warn you, hit me with your best shot, Sparky. Piety vs. Porn, In Mexas Operating under the name ‘The Atheist Agenda’, some differently-pious University of Texas at San Antonio students, thrilled true believers spitless with their 3-day long "Smut for Smut" festivities. If you wanted to participate, it was simplicity itself. Simply bring your chosen Tome - i.e., The Bible, The Koran, The Vedas - and trade it in for some porn.
When asked about this year’s "Smut for Smut" adventure, the relevant Ivory Tower officials deemed it ‘no harm, no foul’, citing that bane of an aspiring censor’s existence, the First Amendment’s free speech clause:
"Smut for Smut" might not thrill you spitless. Free speech is messy that way. In a rational world, Ivory Tower officials would be equally open to free speech which venerates inalienable individual liberty, sovereign individualism, capitalism, and those banes of Korrectnik existence, ‘life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness’. Don’t hold your breath waiting for that. FEBRUARY 2010
Utterly American Tales I See London, I See France, I See... It started, in the wee hours of the morning, when our hero - Old Dog - got into a shouting match with his main squeeze, whom we’ll call Yum-Yum. Voices were raised. Painful pleasantries were exchanged, along with, presumably, some blows. Unwilling to take more abuse from her 57 year old man, 28 year old Yum-Yum jumped into her car and hit the road. Before she could get ‘er done, Old Dog - dressed only in his underwear - jumped on the hood of her car, so he could continue to give her a piece of his mind. He stayed there, ignoring the freezing temperatures, until the proper authorities arrived to send each combatant to his, or her, neutral corner. While they mull which charges to press, the cops might want to have someone count Old Dog’s marbles, because some of them seem to have gone missing. Buckeye State Dude Bulldozes His Home
The FSOP likes your style, Terry. Motor City Exit Strategy I’m pleased to report that our escape artist - Houdini - made it to the McNamara Terminal of the Metro Airport. Armed with his ticket out of hell, he was thisclose to getting away from it all, when those fickle fates got relentlessly playful. Ticket in hand, seated in the boarding area, he was expelled from the human gene pool, by a heart attack. Despite the best efforts of emergency responders, Houdini was gone, felled a few yards from a gateway out of hell. Parting shot: I know that Detroit has a rapidly shrinking population, but mowing down escapees in an airport departure lounge strikes me as extreme, even for Detroit. PIG-Worthy American Tales Precocious Parenthood There’s just one pesky detail that state bureaucrats didn’t consider. In 1995, Rusty Cole, who was born in 1987, was only 7 years old, making him a tad young for daddy duties:
Good luck, Rusty...you’re going to need it. Another Exercise In Barry Bashing Free Speech This week, the FSOP gives props to the rational adult(s) whose ‘enough already’ reached critical mass, with a pointed, billboard-based, message that tells Messiah Barry "we want you to get out of OUR house":
Kudos to the sovereign individual(s) who put their money where their free speech venerating mouth is. Utterly American Tales A Relentlessly Fun Guy What business? We can’t be certain, but it involved him putting his skivvies around his neck, then slipping into a pair of crotchless women’s panties. The festivities were in full swing, when someone called the cops on him, around 10:30 p.m.
The bad news for Eager Eddie is that his party punk antics were brought to a premature conclusion. The good news for Eager Eddie is that, if he still wants to party, there are numerous Bubbas on the old cell block who will make him the star attraction at THEIR party. High Altitude Takedown
What this stoner didn’t know, but soon found out, is that Lorin is more then a flight attendant, she’s a fourth-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do, who has received advanced training, from experts, in taking down a terrorist - or a rampaging stoner - in a confined space like an airline cabin. Nice takedown, Lorin. Very nice takedown. "Miss Me Yet" Mystery
Anonymous? I can live with that, but it won’t change the fact that, here in the FSOP, we insist on lauding him, her, himher, it, or them with a HERO designation. Why? Because that billboard is funny. I don’t care who you are. TSA Jeopardy There’s good news and bad news in this story. The good news is that some Flori-DUH based TSA minions have developed a somewhat PIGish sense of humor. The bad news is that TSA bureaucrats don’t find this PIGish humor the least bit funny.
"Pickle smokers"? "Our gang"? "Creatures"? Now that’s funny, I don’t care who you are. Self-Inflicted Bay State Wound Theory and practice were set on a collision course, when Bay State officials imposed a sales tax on adult beverages, last Summer. It set those law of unintended consequences wheels in motion. Theory: Since 1933, it has been illegal to transport adult beverages across state lines, without a permit from Massachusetts’ Alcoholic Beverages Control Commission stating the exact amount you intend to bring into the Bay State. Practice: Cops are much too busy to enforce this holdover from a bygone era. Unintended Consequence: Adult beverage wrangling capitalists from nearby New Hampshire are putting up billboards inside the Bay State to remind thirsty Bay State denizens that there’s no tax on booze in New Hampshire. In the words of the A-Team’s fearless leader, Colonel John "Hannibal" Smith, I just love it, when a plan comes together. Cold Fusion Prodded by the Greeniacs in their midst, the relevant Minnesota Elected Tormentors, decided to play alternative energy roulette, a few years ago. Assured that the law of unintended consequences wouldn’t rear its ugly head, the Elected Tormentor pissed away $3.3 million in taxpayer dollar$ on 11 wind turbines. No harm, no foul? Not exactly, because somebody forgot to copy Mother Nature on the law of unintended consequences immunity memo. Like so many nifty things, the 11 wind turbines can’t cope with a Globally Warmed, Minnesota winter:
Maybe these Greeniacs need to buy Mother Nature a bouquet of flowers, or give her a hug. That tactic has a better chance of success than putting wind turbines in real winter prone Minnesota. JANUARY 2010
Excuses, Excuses It’s Not Weed, It’s A Sacrament Trevor doesn’t dispute the expired tag, or the fact that he had some weed, but he’s running an interesting explanation for the latter up the justice system flagpole. You see, for our 25 year old stoner, weed isn’t a drug, it’s a key component of his supernaturalism, since he’s an adherent of Hawaii-based THC Ministry:
Wow! This ‘it’s a sacrament’ excuse puts a whole new spin on the venerable exclamation, "Holy Smokes!" A Ron White Moment
The moment that the requisite, "you have the right to remain silent" formalities were concluded, Jason’s Ron White Moment hit high gear. After explaining that, as a full time student during the week, he could only sell weed on the weekends, he tried to mitigate his guilt, by explaining the he kept a lot of the weed for his personal use. That’s when he unleashed this show-stopping gem: "Man, you don’t know how much weed I smoke." He’s right, of course, but he’ll have ample time to explain that to a judge at his March 2 court appearance. PETA Tries to Pink Slip An American Icon He’s a legend who is beloved from sea to shining sea. In addition to widespread news coverage, his annual appearance was the focal point of a Bill Murray flick, "Groundhog Day". His name is Punxsutawney Phil, a weather prognosticator whose prowess seems to make him irreplaceable. Irreplaceable? Not if the PETA punks have their way:
If PETA thinks they can pink slip Punxsutawney Phil, then outsource this American icon’s job to some made in China robot, they’re in for one hell of a fight. The FSOP had your back, Phil. Old Betsy and Big Bang are ready, willing, and eager to defend your turf from these putrid PETA pukes. Flag Flap In Tucson Newlywed Nicole Buonanno is determined to show the proper respect for her hubby, Airman 1st Class Francis Buonanno, while he is deployed to a military base on the Iraq-Kuwait border for the next 4-6 months. Harkening back to a tradition from the first World War, Nicole obtained a flag with a blue star, a venerable symbol which denotes that someone near and dear is serving their nation in far off, dangerous, places. Since she lives in a gated apartment complex - Finisterra Luxury Rentals - and the flag is too large for her window, Nicole decided to hang it from her balcony. No harm, no foul? You know better. The apartment complex’s rules of engagement mandate that ‘patios and balconies to be kept free and clear of anything hanging’, so the management of the complex fired off a nasty-gram, insisting that Nicole remove the flag. The bad news - my personal view - is that the apartment owners are entitled to be assholes about what their tenants can, and can’t, do. The good news is that, property-rights notwithstanding, other Tucson-area, rational adults have Nicole’s back, on this flag flap:
Keep your chin up, Nicole, and thank your husband for his service to our country. Too Good To Be True It’s not breaking news, when a dude goes online and pretends to be something he’s not. It’s still not breaking news, when a 24 year old Mexas scam artist, Justin Brown, pretends to be a hottie wench. Been there, seen it, nothing special, sums it up nicely. Justin kicked up his enRICHing impersonation, by pretending to be a 23 year old California Guess Jeans and Maxim swimsuit model named Bree Condon. How convincing was he? Very:
Justin kept running his cyberspace scam, for 2 years, until the REAL Bree Condon hired an investigator named John Carbona to track down the scumbag who was impersonating her. Up to the challenge, Carbona found Justin in his lavish lair, a budget motel room in Austin, Mexas. The bad news for Justin is that he has been bagged, tagged, and dragged. The good news is that he might have career in female impersonation:
Justin, dude, that girlie voice trick is going to make you very, uh, popular on the old cell block. Injustice On Steroids If you listen to the bullshit spewed by the U.S. Army, an Illinois National Guard soldier, Specialist Billy Miller, is a child porn loving scumbag. If you listen to those who know him, Specialist Miller is a warm-hearted dude whose only crime is being homesick, while serving his nation in Afghanistan. The bullshit reached critical mass, when Specialist Miller’s mom, Terri, set her son a picture of a little girl, a young female relative whom Specialist Miller treated like his own child, when she was diagnosed with cancer. Knowing the close bond between the girl and her virtual daddy, mom sent her son some pictures of the girl, to cheer him up.
The pictures did change his mood, but I wouldn’t call his current state of mind ‘cheerful’. He learned, the hard way, that, in this Obamunist Error, the braying brass jackasses running the U.S. Army have gone fearful and FRENCH, by running up the white flag, when faced with Uncle Sam’s Korrectness on steroids. Parting shot: If there’s more to these charges than a few innocent pictures from back home, I’d like to hear about it. Until someone drops the other shoe on this one, I’m forced to take this at face value, which stinks to high heaven. You Should Have Turned The Other Cheek Apparently, one of the unwritten rules of Walmart greeter engagement is ‘no matter what happens, turn the other cheek, welcome to Walmart Sparky’. In other words, if a customer sucker punches you, take one for the team, then borrow a line from ‘Animal House’, "thank you, sir...may I have another". A 69 year old Florida denizen, Ed Bauman, didn’t know these unwritten rules in December 2009, but he has the big picture, now.
When, after all the dust settled, he had recuperated from his dust up, Ed headed back for work. His return was much more memorable than he wanted, or needed:
According to WESH, Walmart officials don’t want to talk about their asinine antics. I wouldn’t either, if I had my head that far up my own ass. A Bullet-Proof Behemoth Named Bubba His name is Bubba. He’s not THAT Bubba, but his behavior is at least as bad as THAT Bubba’s antics. THIS Bubba is an adult male black bear who tips the truck scales at an estimated 700 pounds, nearly twice the weight of the average adult male black bear. Bubba’s resume is an impressive one, unless you’re a resident of his favorite hunting grounds, Incline Village (Nevada) on the north shore of Lake Tahoe. Bubba appears to be bullet proof. One of his victims shot Bubba with a .44 Magnum, but the bullet bounced off his head. Another of his victims shot Bubba in the back with a .30-30 rifle and Bubba kept on trucking. Bubba made monkeys out of his pursuers, when they brought in Karelian Bear Dogs. Bubba wasn’t born yesterday, so he has no problem walking right past bear traps. Bubba knows when it’s trash pickup day in Incline Village and uses it as a feast for a famished black bruin. Bubba loves to smash his way through closed garage doors, then ransack the place in search of a snack. Bubba is so insufferable smug that he taunts his human adversaries by leaving a ‘humongous, smelly’ pile of bear crap which warns everyone that ‘Bubba was here’. Given all that, it’s hardly an ‘Unsolved Mystery’ why nobody in Incline Village is thrilled with a rampaging bear who has smashed his way into dozens of homes, while searching for a snack. Although Bubba hasn’t visited his favorite snacking grounds in Nevada for 3 weeks, the locals know that ‘I’ll be back’ is Bubba’s favorite movie quote. Bubba, according to Nevada’s Department of Wildlife, is on borrowed time. They plan to punch his ticket, permanently, if they can catch him. Good luck with that critter wranglers. Parting shot: First and foremost, I must state, for the record, that the locals named their nemesis 'Bubba'. Go figure. After rereading my list of Bubba the Behemoth Bear’s antics, I’m forced to ask the obvious question: Does anyone have iron-clad proof that Bubba Clinton wasn’t in, or near, Incline Village when these rampages happened? It’s Enquiring minds time, again, in the PIGdom. Consider The Source Our first conspiracy theory of the year comes from a relentlessly fun dude named Ronnie Lee Owen. According to Ronnie, he has the inside scoop on a plot by white supremacists to overthrow Messiah Barry. Ronnie isn’t serving up any meaningful details, but he is willing to serve up two key players: 1) A dude named Billy Ray, who asked Ronnie for info on hacking into government computers. 2) An ‘extremist Mormon leader’ who could help the proper authorities infiltrate the group, so they could stop this white supremacist uprising. And what, you ask, is in it for Ronnie Lee Owen? Among other things, he’d like to get out of the Mississippi jail where he’s staring federal fraud charges in the face. Instead of saving Barry’s bacon, Ronnie’s next staring role will be in a courtroom where he’ll be encouraged to explain his 3 fake driver’s license, not to mention all those phony checks he’s been dispensing in, at least, 8 states. If you think Ronnie is a barrel of laughs, get over it. The real jaw-droppers are being served up by Ronnie’s significant other:
Given Ronnie Lee Owen’s compelling resume, I wouldn’t believe him, if he told me that the sun rises in the East and sets in the West. PIG-Worthy American News Southern Fried Political Commentary Ironically, someone in Plains does have issues with the Dumbo-Eared Fraud From Abroad who booted Peanut Punk out of that worst ever slot. He, she, heshe, or it made their pointed political critique, by hanging a black doll off a Main Street building in Jihad Jimmy’s home town.
The Secret Service is ‘looking into it’, but, so far, they aren’t making any public comments about it. I get that, since the Red Shed Marxist are so eager to play the blame game. If you can’t wait for that Prompter Punk pronouncement, I’ll give you a preview of coming attractions. Messiah Barry and/or his minions will point the fickle finger at lily white, Tea Party patriot, racist extremists, then find some way to pin it on Dick ‘Darth’ Cheney, Vicente W. Bush and Rush Limbaugh. Colonista Bitch Thwarts Sheriff Joe’s Immigration Sweeps In this instance, the Terror of Technology is ‘texting. Lydia’s fetid scheme employs a ‘sophisticated texting tree designed to alert thousands of people within minutes to the details of the sweeps, which critics contend are an excuse to round up illegal immigrants’ (Fox). As usual, Sheriff Joe has a few choice words about this Colonista bitch and her justice-thwarting scheme:
Watch your back, Colonista bitch. Sheriff Joe has you on his ‘enemies of America’ radar. If you keep this up, it’s going to really suck to be you. DECEMBER 2009
A 2nd Amendment Adventure Michelle Cornelsen, owner of a coffee kiosk in Coeur d’Alene (Idaho), was up to the challenge, when her business day got off to a rocky start. It all happened very fast, and could have been lethal, but Michelle was cool during the crisis:
The punk’s nonchalance proved to be his undoing, a short time later, when deputy Michael Douglass spotted him, after hearing the robbery attempt details on his radio:
Bagged, tagged, and dragged, this punk will have ample time to rethink his career options, while he lounges in his graybar suite. Another 2nd Amendment Adventure This ‘right to keep and bear arms’ adventure started, when an 81 year old man had his Sacramento (Mexifornia) home invaded by a pair of desperados. They gained entry by guile, asking to use the man’s phone. Once inside, the desperados brandished weapons, then exiled our hero inside a room. Luckily, for our hero, the robbers put him in the WRONG room. They put him in the room where he keeps his street legal firearm. Unwilling to tolerate any further abuse from the robbers, our 2nd Amendment hero unleashed a fusillade through the door. Taking this high caliber hint, the desperados took off like scalded mutts. This story, PIGsters, demonstrates the primary reason our 2nd Amendment rights are so important. Curses, Foiled Again From our Leg Tingling Unrequited Lust News Desk, we bring you the story of a dude who can’t take 'no' for an answer. Our hero - we’ll call him Dog Breath - is a 42 year old Fort Pierce, Flori-DUH (alleged) man who has the leg tingling warmies for an irresistible - to him - 33 year old woman. Dog Breath wants her in the worst way, and he’s willing to boldly go where few others have gone, to get her. How far? You’re going to be thrilled:
Witchcraft? Blow up her home? Which part of ‘no means no’ don’t you understand, Dog Breath? If you keep this crap up, you’ll end up in a local graybar, where a badass bun ranger named Bubba will make sure that your dance card is always full. Instant Justice The good news is that a murdering piece of Big Apple shit, Hector Quinones, is dead. The bad news is that he killed three members of a family and would have killed two more, if the fates hadn’t forcibly evicted Hector from the human gene pool.
I hope this rat bastard’s final, fateful, seconds of his miserable life were filled with abject terror. That put him in the proper frame of mind for that special circle of hell in which he will spend his extra crispy eternity. A Cautionary Tale Eager to ‘hook up’, an Indiana dude - I’ll call him Lucky - thought he’d struck gold, when he wrangled a date with a willing wench on a dating chat line. On a winning streak, Lucky even got the willing wench to line up a couple of her friends for his chums. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am? Not exactly. Lucky just isn’t THAT lucky. In fact, if it weren’t for bad luck, Lucky wouldn’t have any luck at all. He should have sensed something, when the willing wench agreed to meet Lucky and his 3 pals, at a private residence around midnight. He should have, but he didn’t.
By the time our crestfallen horndogs got home and called the cops, the robbers were long gone. Later, cops determined that the house offered no clues, since it was a vacant domicile which still had electrical service. Plucked clean? You better believe it, Sparky. Lucky should have known better, but this is the kind of crap that is destined to happen when a horndog lets his little head call all his shots. Cooking Up Trouble The hero of our story is an Alabama entrepreneur who cooked up a smoldering batch of trouble on a Friday night. A fan of multitasking, our hero decided to maximize his efficiency by setting up a meth lab on the front seat of his car. Everything was spiffy, for our hero, until some roving justice system officials spotted our multitasker sitting in his car by the side of the road. Curious, and then some, the proper authorities stopped to exchange pleasantries with our hero. Apparently, our meth wrangler wasn’t in a talkative mood:
Our multitasker will have ample time to map out his next business venture, when the proper authorities move our hero from a hospital bed, to a hospitality suite in the local graybar hotel. PIGish American Tales A Dating Nightmare Jordan mapped out his special circle of hell, in late May, when he stole his foster parents’ car, then drove to Memphis with his 16 year old girlfriend. After he was bagged, tagged, and dragged, back to Wisconsin, Jordan was sentenced to a year in the slammer, where dating girls won’t be one of his choices. He was also giving 3 years of probation, during which he must get his probation officer’s permission, whenever Jordan lines up a date with a girl. All things considered, you might owe your parents an apology, PIGster Sparky. Howard County Courthouse Christmas Clowns
Asinine? You bet. Par for the course in Obamunist-infested America? You better believe it, what happened to my life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness, Sparky. ‘Tis The Season
Are Sheriff Joe’s guests appreciative? I’ll let you be the judge:
Cruel and unusual punishment? You better believe it, bah humbug Sparky. Utterly American Tales A Daycare Center That Shines
A daycare center/moonshine shop? Bold new concept. That’s ONE way to get dad to leave his recliner and go pick up little Moonbeam. Holy one-stop shopping, Batman! Big Apple Culture Clash For certain denizens of the Brooklyn neighborhood, the bikers - especially those females in body hugging biking togs - are a pestilence. In fact, the locals were so unhinged by the bikers that they persuaded Mayor Bloomberg to sandblast the bike lanes out of their misery, in the waning days of the recent Mayoral Election cycle. Game, set, match? Not even close. The unhinged locals, Hasidic Jews, aren’t out of the ‘it’s sinful to look at members of the opposite sex who are dressed like THAT’ woods, yet. Recently, so-called bicycle riding ‘vigilantes’ are repainting the expunged bike lanes in the 14 blocks of Williamsburg where they went missing. Will sin triumph over supernaturalism? The jury is still out, so stay tuned. Parting shot: I seem to be the only one who didn’t know that ‘Hasid’ is Rosary True Believer lingo’s functional equivalent of ‘does not play well with others’. Learn something new, every day. Second Amendment Heroine [DISCLAIMER: After a spirited discussion and melee, we decided to present the transcript in its original, typo-saturated, form. If you find them annoying, we feel your pain.] RESIDENT - "Oh crap he's coming around the front..." 911 - "Is your front door locked?" RESIDENT - "Yes ma'am but it's only got a lock on the handle." 911 - "Okay, do you have a place inside your house and lock yourself in a room?" RESIDENT - "Uh, not really." 911 - "He's trying to come through the front door." RESIDENT - "i've got a big shotgun. I'm not going into a tiny bathroom..." RESIDENT - "He's walking around the house trying to find a way in..." RESIDENT - "Oh crap, he's at the back..." 911 - "Okay , (unintelligible) is advising that you can defend your property if you need to." RESIDENT - "Alright he's at the garage." 911 - "He's at the garage? Is it attached to your house?" RESIDENT - "Nope, he's at the patio door again." 911 - "I can hear him banging again." RESIDENT - "I don't want to have to kill this man, but i'll kill him graveyard dead ma'am." 911 - "I understand." RESIDENT - "Alright." RESIDENT - Oh crap he's breaking in. he's breaking in now, he's breaking in now. He's breaking the window, i'm going to kill him. He's walking back and forth on the porch. He looks to be an older man, I don't want to kill him. He's kicking the door please hurry. He's going to make it in please hurry ma'am. I think he's drunk . He doesn't know where his pickup's at. God I don't want to kill this man." RESIDENT - "I cant keep this gun and keep on the phone darling, it's a big shotgun, it will break my arm. As soon as you tell me they're here im taking the safety, uh.. Im putting the safety back on this sucker." That’s when our heroine’s nemesis, Billy Dean Riley, made a fatal mistake. Ignoring the homeowner’s warnings, he threw a chair through a window. Seconds later, our second amendment heroine proved that she was as good as her word. That’s right, PIGsters she ‘killed him graveyard dead’. Nice shooting, darlin’. No Way To Treat A Hero
For some reason ‘congenital asshole’ is the primary qualification for anyone who infests that tyranny of turds, the homeowners association. Full of themselves, and IT, they foul the air with one reeking assault on sovereign individuals after another. Time, and time again, they live down to my lower than whale crap expectations, by picking the wrong fight, with the wrong individual, for the wrong reason. In Richmond, Virginia, the Sussex Square Homeowners Association assholes have declared war on a no bullshit American hero, a 90 year old veteran of three wars who is, among other things, a recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor. His Name his Colonel Van T. Barfoot, and he's a man who deserves the thanks, the RESPECT, of every American.
Last Spring, after moving into his Sussex Square home, Colonel Barfoot requested permission to install a flagpole on his property. When the homeowners association board denied his request, in July, Colonel Barfoot examined the Sussex Square rules of engagement. He quickly determined that his flagpole was not explicitly banned. A man of action, Colonel Barfoot, erected his flagpole in September, then proceeded to honor his country, by raising Old Glory every day at sunrise, and lowering it again, at sunset. No harm, no foul? It is to a rational adult, but the Sussex Square Homeowners Association assholes had shit fits over a war hero’s commendable display of patriotism.
The Sussex Square scumbags say Colonel Barfoot can keep, and deploy his flag, but the flagpole must go. I'm pleased to report that Colonel Barfoot won't play that asinine game:
It’s time to turn up the heat on these Sussex Square rat bastards. It’s time to unleash the full force of rational American adult outrage on these Sussex Square homeowners association shitheads. It’s time to shower them with unrelenting verbal abuse, for what they are doing to a man of rare courage, a man with a compelling dedication to America. Parting shot: I don’t give a rat’s ass about their petty rules of engagement. I don’t give a crap how many flags they have, elsewhere in their Sussex Square circle of hell. All I give a damn about is the shabby, downright SHITTY, way they are treating an American war hero. Someone needs to publish the names, address, and contact information for the 9 tyrannical turds who infest the Sussex Square board, so we can rhetorically nuke their sorry asses into a more patriotic frame of mind. Colonel Barfoot is much too honorable to ask it of you, so I’m asking you, because he no bullshit deserves better treatment than he’s getting from the Sussex Square scumbags. Another Crash Test Dummy From our ‘it probably seemed like a good idea at the time’ file, we bring you the compelling story of two Illinois denizens, Jonathon Langer and Shannon Fitzpatrick. Their adventure began, the moment that the proper authorities bagged Jonathan’s car and towed it to the fenced in lot in Rolling Meadows, where Northwest Recovery plies its trade. Unwilling to tolerate that turn of events, the couple got into Shannon’s car and prepared to storm the gates, literally.
Determined to avoid paying a $170 towing fee, Jonathan and Shannon inflicted much more than $170 worth of damage to Shannon’s car. Just getting started, they’re facing the relevant costs involved with theft of services and criminal trespass charges. Do I really need to tell you "don’t try this at home"? Dressed For Success Noticeably ‘enthusiastic’ beneath his blue knickers, and cutting an arresting figure in his nylon stockings, the 39 year old Council Bluffs (Iowa) dude slowed traffic at a busy intersection. On the off chance that his gender bending outfit, and the woody he was packing, didn’t send the desired message, he kicked it up a notch, by making ‘sexual gestures toward passing cars’. Honest to a fault, he had all the right answers, when the proper authorities arrived on the scene:
Cheer up, Sparky. You’re a slam dunk for stoner of the week.
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Copyright 1993-2010 PIG - The Politically Incorrect Gazette
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NEWS INDEX • • • • • • • • • • • • • • ONLY IN AMERIKA • • • • • • • • • • • • • • BEYOND AMERIKA • • • • • • • • • • • • • • VICTIM - 'HOOD • • • • • • • • • • • • • • EDUCRAP • • • • • • • • • • • • • • KULTURE • • • • • • • • • • • • • • NANNY STATE • • • • • • • • • • • • • • DUMB CRIMINALS FLAT-LINERS • • • • • • • • • • • • • • ONLY IN MEXIFORNIA HOLY ROLLERS • • • • • • • • • • • • • • COMMENTARY • • • • • • • • • • • • • • ODDS AND ENDS • • • • • • • • • • • • • • CLASSICS • • • • • • • • • • • • • • ARCHIVES • • • • • • • • • • • • • • |
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NEWS LINKS / SITES |
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FOX NEWS • • • • • • • • • • • • • • ANANOVA • • • • • • • • • • • • • • FREE REPUBLIC • • • • • • • • • • • • • • WORLDNETDAILY • • • • • • • • • • • • • • NEWSMAX • • • • • • • • • • • • • • DRUDGE REPORT • • • • • • • • • • • • • • NY POST • • • • • • • • • • • • • • O.C. REGISTER • • • • • • • • • • • • • • SAN ANTONIO LIGHTNING • • • • • • • • • • • • • • REUTERS • • • • • • • • • • • • • • BLOOMBERG • • • • • • • • • • • • • • BBC.UK • • • • • • • • • • • • • • BOSTON GLOBE • • • • • • • • • • • • • • WASHINGTON TMES • • • • • • • • • • • • • • SACRAMENTO BEE • • • • • • • • • • • • • • |
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• FRIENDS OF PIG • |
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 If you're ever in Tempe, AZ, and experiencing hunger pangs, and just have to have something hot, fresh and juicy, check yourself into: The Heart Attack Grill Tell 'Em PIG Sent You! |
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