Yeah! New rules, new title, new story! It's not anymore about me, Walrus Eggman! It's about my author.
My author is a son of a bitch who was raised by whores in San Francisco. Even as a child he began to reveal his dangerous, psychopathic personality, which led him into a series of fictional characters massacres back in the 90s. Rehabilitated after a long...
But wait... If I talk about no one else but Him, I'm not denying his existence. OK, I'll write nothing more about my author. He has never existed. I'm my own author.
And I'm tired of these stories... The old scheme - comments on news - is way better for the development of my ability to write in English, the sole purpose of this blasted blog.
Monday, December 22, 2008
The Story of Walrus Eggman 14
-- YEAH! Now I'm the one in charge! No author to ever kill me again! I'm holding a lantern and shouting: "I've killed God! I've killed God!". That bloody author was a serial killer of a single person: me! What was on his mind? Did he think anyone would enjoy a story of meaningless deaths? Oh well, it doesn't matter. What matters now is that I am in charge of my own life!
The Story of Walrus Eggman 12
-- What's the point of dying again and again, if I can't remember my previous lives?
Walrus Eggman dies again, killed by his own author, which has been surprised by the fact that his character could remember his previous lives.
Walrus Eggman dies again, killed by his own author, which has been surprised by the fact that his character could remember his previous lives.
The Story of Walrus Eggman 11
-- I can't die again! Why do I keep dying all the time? Is it some illness of my soul? A flaw in God's work? I have to change the CD in the radio...
Distracted from the road while changing the music, Walrus Eggman smashed his car againt a tree. He didn't die right away. A week of pain inside a hospital before the end of this chapter.
Distracted from the road while changing the music, Walrus Eggman smashed his car againt a tree. He didn't die right away. A week of pain inside a hospital before the end of this chapter.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Scientists prove humanity sucks
Yeah, that's it. Scientists have found strong evidence to support what I always knew: the human being is a crawling contraption designed to the sole purpose of inflicting pain upon its own species; the apex of Nature's creativity, as it is life capable of denying the very rules which no other living being ever broke.
Studies show that, under certain conditions, ANY person can behave as an instrument of evil. All that is required is an order and the belief in the legitimacy of the person issuing the command. In a recreation of the classic Stanley Milgram's experiment, an absolute majority of test subjects were (again) incapable of questioning a fake experiment in which they were led to believe they were applying increasingly stronger electric shocks to another person, trusting the absolute legitimacy currently owned by Science and guys in white coats. Now THAT's how Hitler did what he did.
I'm not in the mood to create a logical sequence between the first and the second paragraphs of this post, so just pretend the connection is there. And I'm sorry there are absolutely no jokes in this post, but the news are grim indeed, if a bit old, are they not, oh friend who treads under the storms of the darkest of nights?
This bunch of crap came from here.
Studies show that, under certain conditions, ANY person can behave as an instrument of evil. All that is required is an order and the belief in the legitimacy of the person issuing the command. In a recreation of the classic Stanley Milgram's experiment, an absolute majority of test subjects were (again) incapable of questioning a fake experiment in which they were led to believe they were applying increasingly stronger electric shocks to another person, trusting the absolute legitimacy currently owned by Science and guys in white coats. Now THAT's how Hitler did what he did.
I'm not in the mood to create a logical sequence between the first and the second paragraphs of this post, so just pretend the connection is there. And I'm sorry there are absolutely no jokes in this post, but the news are grim indeed, if a bit old, are they not, oh friend who treads under the storms of the darkest of nights?
This bunch of crap came from here.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
The Story of Walrus Eggman 10
Walrus Eggman was on the passenger seat of a black Buick. When the car entered a tunnel, a guy in the backseat pulled out a violin string and choked Mr. Eggman to death.
The Story of Walrus Eggman 9
After a massive amount of rhyming, Walrus Eggman recruited more than five thousand followers. They've wandered across the country, trying to reach the city of New Yolk. Their path was curvy and much longer than it could have been, for they would recruit many in their wandering.
One day, they've saw the skyscrapers in the horizon, and rushed towards their destination, singing joyful songs: "We arrive to the Holy Land/ Our fates firm in hand/ To bring all to light/ Unafraid to join the fight".
When they were about to reach the urban region, a shot silenced the crowd and Walrus Eggman fell down mortally wounded. His closer disciple approached him, trying to hear his master's last words. Between gasps and coughs, Walrus Eggman uttered the words: "Oh no, not again!" and his eyes stopped moving.
One day, they've saw the skyscrapers in the horizon, and rushed towards their destination, singing joyful songs: "We arrive to the Holy Land/ Our fates firm in hand/ To bring all to light/ Unafraid to join the fight".
When they were about to reach the urban region, a shot silenced the crowd and Walrus Eggman fell down mortally wounded. His closer disciple approached him, trying to hear his master's last words. Between gasps and coughs, Walrus Eggman uttered the words: "Oh no, not again!" and his eyes stopped moving.
The Story of Walrus Eggman 8
A man was preaching in a busy street:
-- Thrice I have seen the light
So powerful it was I've lost my sight!
The man had a ribbon wrapped around his eyes. He continued his preaching:
-- Worry not, thou, my eyes aren't needed anymore!
For I see now more than I ever saw before!
Pointing an elegant man passing by:
-- You! I see you're troubled in your sleep
By the ghosts of the ones you've made weep!
Flee from me if I lie
Flee from me and I can die
The elegantly dressed man stopped and began watching the crazed preacher, who was now pointing at a beautiful woman, and saying:
-- You! You're chained by your looks!
Unable to eat except in carats
Distasteful life thou lead
Join me for I am mead
The woman stopped her petulant walk and began listening to the preacher. To an old man he said:
-- Evident in thee is the weight of years
Thou feel pierced by a thousand spears
Allow me to soothe thy pain
Bliss upon thee falling like rain
-- Thrice I have seen the light
So powerful it was I've lost my sight!
The man had a ribbon wrapped around his eyes. He continued his preaching:
-- Worry not, thou, my eyes aren't needed anymore!
For I see now more than I ever saw before!
Pointing an elegant man passing by:
-- You! I see you're troubled in your sleep
By the ghosts of the ones you've made weep!
Flee from me if I lie
Flee from me and I can die
The elegantly dressed man stopped and began watching the crazed preacher, who was now pointing at a beautiful woman, and saying:
-- You! You're chained by your looks!
Unable to eat except in carats
Distasteful life thou lead
Join me for I am mead
The woman stopped her petulant walk and began listening to the preacher. To an old man he said:
-- Evident in thee is the weight of years
Thou feel pierced by a thousand spears
Allow me to soothe thy pain
Bliss upon thee falling like rain
The Story of Walrus Eggman 7
Years later, Walrus Eggman was watching some news program. Apparently, about eight planes had been hijacked and were being thrown against important buildings. Twenty thousand deaths.
He went to the fridge and got some beer. As he closed the door, a shot resounded and he fell dead, spilling the beer all over the floor.
He went to the fridge and got some beer. As he closed the door, a shot resounded and he fell dead, spilling the beer all over the floor.
The Story of Walrus Eggman 6
Once on the sidewalk, Walrus Eggman looked up to the square shaped sky. A long sigh later, he began walking slowly, enjoying every step, like a XIXth century miner after crawling away from mining tunnels. A pigeon bombarded Mr. Eggman, unaware of the happiness it was shattering. He went to a public restroom and tried to clean the mess as best as he could.
While facing himself in the mirror, he saw a man entering the place. As the man passed by him, he heard a shot and, in a few moments, everything went dark.
Walrus Eggman was dead.
While facing himself in the mirror, he saw a man entering the place. As the man passed by him, he heard a shot and, in a few moments, everything went dark.
Walrus Eggman was dead.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
The Story of Walrus Eggman 5
-- These results could be better, Walrus. I feel something is bothering you, you're not performing as you should. Is something wrong back home?
-- No, everything is fine.
-- Are you unsatisfied with your percentage?
-- No, that's not it... Of course, a greater percentage wouldn't hurt.
-- Forget it... what is your problem then?
-- I don't know...
-- What do you mean by "I don't know"? How can you not know?
-- I don't want YOU to know.
-- Mr. Eggman!
-- Yeah, I'm quitting this lousy job!
-- Hey, wait, I'm sure we can come to an agreement...
-- No, we can't! Shove your percentage up your ass!
-- Mr. Eggman, I'm asking you to leave.
-- No need yo ask twice!
[poc, poc, poc, poc, slam!]
-- No, everything is fine.
-- Are you unsatisfied with your percentage?
-- No, that's not it... Of course, a greater percentage wouldn't hurt.
-- Forget it... what is your problem then?
-- I don't know...
-- What do you mean by "I don't know"? How can you not know?
-- I don't want YOU to know.
-- Mr. Eggman!
-- Yeah, I'm quitting this lousy job!
-- Hey, wait, I'm sure we can come to an agreement...
-- No, we can't! Shove your percentage up your ass!
-- Mr. Eggman, I'm asking you to leave.
-- No need yo ask twice!
[poc, poc, poc, poc, slam!]
The Story of Walrus Eggman 4
If you somehow come across a Sphinx, and it asks you a question as a chance to spare your life, and the question is: "When crossing a bridge, which step is the most important? The first, the current or the last?", answer "the current step". I don't know why, it just seems right.
Now that we've explained the steps that many would consider to be the first and the last, we can focus on the current step, months before Walrus Eggman demise.
Our hero was having breakfast and reading about some flood in Indonesia. He wasn't paying much attention to the reading itself, wondering about the fact the never in human history we were so conscious of the entire world. He considered we could be wrong, that we were as clueless as ever; in ancient times, the world was smaller, and people must have had the same impression. Nowadays, we're yet bound to the universe we know, despite our awareness of the existence of other stars and planets, just like Romans were aware of China.
He was interrupted by his children saying goodbye to go to school. He had lost the thread, thou, and never has he continued his reasoning. Eventually he would have discovered the very meaning of life, but now it was forever lost to him. He finished breakfast, brushed his teeth and went to work.
Now that we've explained the steps that many would consider to be the first and the last, we can focus on the current step, months before Walrus Eggman demise.
Our hero was having breakfast and reading about some flood in Indonesia. He wasn't paying much attention to the reading itself, wondering about the fact the never in human history we were so conscious of the entire world. He considered we could be wrong, that we were as clueless as ever; in ancient times, the world was smaller, and people must have had the same impression. Nowadays, we're yet bound to the universe we know, despite our awareness of the existence of other stars and planets, just like Romans were aware of China.
He was interrupted by his children saying goodbye to go to school. He had lost the thread, thou, and never has he continued his reasoning. Eventually he would have discovered the very meaning of life, but now it was forever lost to him. He finished breakfast, brushed his teeth and went to work.
The Story of Walrus Eggman 3
A few months later, the woman gave birth. It wasn't a girl, despite all her prayers. They've named the boy Walrus Eggman. The ugliest baby ever seen he was. Thankfully, his name was worse, so no one payed much attention to the boy's features.
The boy grew amidst the hardships of his ugly face and according name. But he had some brains, and was well liked by his schoolmates, except for the bullies (but they like no one, anyway).
Walrus Eggman became a lawyer, one of the best.
The boy grew amidst the hardships of his ugly face and according name. But he had some brains, and was well liked by his schoolmates, except for the bullies (but they like no one, anyway).
Walrus Eggman became a lawyer, one of the best.
The Story of Walrus Eggman 2
-- I want to name him John after my father, Jack!
-- Oh no, that name is too common for a son of mine! Common names are for common people!
-- Do you want our boy to be uncommon?
-- Out of the ordinary, yes!
-- But that can be bad!
-- And it also can be better! No one gets rich and important with a gray, uncolored label!
-- OK, so which name do you suggest?
"I am the Walrus" was playing on the radio.
-- Got it! Walrus Eggman!
-- Jesus Christ! And what if I'm carrying a girl, would you name her "Eleanor Rigby"?
-- The name's Eggman. Walrus Eggman.
"A boy named Sue" was playing on the radio.
-- Do you understand how much he'll suffer because of that awful name?
-- He'll thank me in the end.
-- Perhaps he'll spare your life in the end, not thank you! Name him Bill, or George, any damn thing but Walrus Eggman...
-- It's final. My son's name will be Walrus Eggman. And if it's a girl, I'll let you choose a name.
-- Oh no, that name is too common for a son of mine! Common names are for common people!
-- Do you want our boy to be uncommon?
-- Out of the ordinary, yes!
-- But that can be bad!
-- And it also can be better! No one gets rich and important with a gray, uncolored label!
-- OK, so which name do you suggest?
"I am the Walrus" was playing on the radio.
-- Got it! Walrus Eggman!
-- Jesus Christ! And what if I'm carrying a girl, would you name her "Eleanor Rigby"?
-- The name's Eggman. Walrus Eggman.
"A boy named Sue" was playing on the radio.
-- Do you understand how much he'll suffer because of that awful name?
-- He'll thank me in the end.
-- Perhaps he'll spare your life in the end, not thank you! Name him Bill, or George, any damn thing but Walrus Eggman...
-- It's final. My son's name will be Walrus Eggman. And if it's a girl, I'll let you choose a name.
The Story of Walrus Eggman 1
Sore throats sung a song of rage and sacrifice. Spears clashed against shields as the horses rode along the line, boosting the courage of ugly, faceless men, eager to kill and likely to die. An imposing figurehead, either a king or any hairy leader cries for freedom and tells the men to hold the line, waiting until the impossible odds approach. Some smart stunt happens, like rolling tree logs on fire or flaming arrows to light some inflammable substance placed on the ground were the enemy treads. The two armies clash, the enemy leader wounds an important character; the hairy leader of the good guys gets mad and kills the enemy leader. A few moments later, a victory warcry.
Tired of the movie (I can't recall which one it was), Walrus Eggman leaves the theater; a very typical one, actually, with popcorn on the floor and a corner where a child spilled some beverage. It's nighttime. His eyes were unaccustomed with the lights of the hall. A strong desire of taking a leak led Mr. Eggman towards the men's room.
Walrus Eggman is peeing when a silenced shot ends his life.
Tired of the movie (I can't recall which one it was), Walrus Eggman leaves the theater; a very typical one, actually, with popcorn on the floor and a corner where a child spilled some beverage. It's nighttime. His eyes were unaccustomed with the lights of the hall. A strong desire of taking a leak led Mr. Eggman towards the men's room.
Walrus Eggman is peeing when a silenced shot ends his life.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Prince Harry serves in Iraq.
So what if the brat wants some publicity in a godforsaken country? You people have nothing to do with it!
By the way, very wise is the policy of not telling that the Prince's accommodations are located in the following UTM coordinates: 689908.73m L and 3624855.81m N! The Muslims would make short work out of him!
What drives a 23 year-old British royal family member to a country such as Iraq? Does he wish to overcome the ultimate GARDENING challenge in a distant, barren wasteland, a feat that is required to celebrate a boy's passage into adulthood in England?
Or perhaps he was told of the tales of King Arthur as a child, and wants to make his way into eternity as the knight in beige armor that united England under one banner (whatever that is)? Perhaps he seeks the legendary Excalibur, guarded by the Lady of the Formerly Very Wet Lake? Perhaps it was the lure of a Morganna, oh dark Morganna, he was promised to find in Iraq by National Geographic magazine?
We'll never know the reasons behind this flagrantly demagogic action. I just worry that, because of the Brits' bad example, we won't be able to apply the label of "populist" to every Latin American government actually supported by the people and not by our secret organizations! We "firstworlders" must always have hateful and distant rulers to demonstrate our superiority and the health of our democracies, so that we can impose inferior and unhealthy democracies in otherworldly countries...
Besides, that country is a place for OUR immigrants. Why does a Prince do the job a mexican could do much better?
The "Bullet Magnet", as his fellow soldiers nicknamed him, should leave Iraq right away!
(Oh, so he's not in Iraq? He is in Afghanistan? Damn! I always mix up these places. I must constantly remember myself that Baghdad is the capital of Saudi Arabia, for example. Well, no harm done, it's all the same)
Look at a picture of the Prince's fine quarters in Ira... Afghanistan:
By the way, very wise is the policy of not telling that the Prince's accommodations are located in the following UTM coordinates: 689908.73m L and 3624855.81m N! The Muslims would make short work out of him!
What drives a 23 year-old British royal family member to a country such as Iraq? Does he wish to overcome the ultimate GARDENING challenge in a distant, barren wasteland, a feat that is required to celebrate a boy's passage into adulthood in England?
Or perhaps he was told of the tales of King Arthur as a child, and wants to make his way into eternity as the knight in beige armor that united England under one banner (whatever that is)? Perhaps he seeks the legendary Excalibur, guarded by the Lady of the Formerly Very Wet Lake? Perhaps it was the lure of a Morganna, oh dark Morganna, he was promised to find in Iraq by National Geographic magazine? We'll never know the reasons behind this flagrantly demagogic action. I just worry that, because of the Brits' bad example, we won't be able to apply the label of "populist" to every Latin American government actually supported by the people and not by our secret organizations! We "firstworlders" must always have hateful and distant rulers to demonstrate our superiority and the health of our democracies, so that we can impose inferior and unhealthy democracies in otherworldly countries...
Besides, that country is a place for OUR immigrants. Why does a Prince do the job a mexican could do much better?
The "Bullet Magnet", as his fellow soldiers nicknamed him, should leave Iraq right away!
(Oh, so he's not in Iraq? He is in Afghanistan? Damn! I always mix up these places. I must constantly remember myself that Baghdad is the capital of Saudi Arabia, for example. Well, no harm done, it's all the same)
Look at a picture of the Prince's fine quarters in Ira... Afghanistan:
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
McCain is the choice of every good American!
McCain is definitely the best choice for America. It's crispy, tasty and it comes in various shapes and sizes to satisfy you in every way. Children will be delighted to eat their favorite cartoon character with a very special potato taste!In a nation where obesity is an epidemic, we also worry about the healthiness of the foods we produce! McCain Crispy Chips only have two ingredients: selected potatoes of the finest quality and sunflower oil, which is very healthy for you and your family. You don't need to fry the potatoes all over again! Just stick the bag inside the oven and voilà ! Crispy delicious 'tatoes ready to be devoured!
We are proud to offer only the best in terms of industrially fried potatoes. But the best thing is that we don't call them "French Fries"! We call them Freedom Fries! Yes, that's right. McCain potatoes are being distributed freely to the brave soldiers in Iraq. We have a strong sense of social responsibility. We also send over 15 tons of frozen "Freedom Fries" to Africa! One of you may ask: "but how can the Africans taste the crispy and tasty McCain Frozen Potatoes in all their crispiness and tastiness if they don't have the technology to produce ovens?". We thought the same thing and, along with the 15 tons of chips, we have also sent 100 ovens! Africa is a bit less deficient in 7 types of vitamins, 12 amino acids and HDL cholesterol (which is good for our blood vessels) thanks to the efforts of McCain Corporation and, especially, thanks to you, our client!
Join the McCain Mania and buy yourself some of the finest previously fried potato chips! Our goal is to make your life easier, healthier and tastier!
Hey, look! Even Mr. Future President can't escape the McCain Mania! -->
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
According to UK scientists, antidepressants don't work
Yes, America. The British are (once again) trying to destroy the image of one of our most prized advancements in the medical field: antidepressants.
Nature took billions of years to develop a system as complex as the brain. But that's no match for the BILLIONS of dollars spent on research to improve that complex and sometimes annoying machine. The point is that Prozac WORKS! I'm the living proof of how miraculous that drug is! I'm a completely sane person SAYING FOOLISH THINGS ON A FUCKING WEBLOG THAT EXISTS ONLY IN THE WIRES WRAPPED AROUND THE GLOBE JUST BECAUSE OF THE IMPRESSION THAT SOMEONE WILL READ WHAT I'M SAYING AND YET STRANGELY AWARE THAT NO ONE IN THE FUCKING WORLD WILL EVER READ THESE DAMNABLE ATTEMPTS AT HUMOR!
Remember who are the British! They're the people that enslaved us! They eat disgusting food! They eat kidneys FOR BREAKFAST! And they don't take as much Prozac as we do! They're not sane! Period. Our scientists are the best in the world. Who are you going to believe? Their scientists? A bunch of pompous pricks with the innermost desire of becoming FRENCH? That's what they are! Someone who looks up to the French doesn't deserve a dime of credit.
PROZAC IS THE STUFF DREAMS ARE MADE OF! Throughout the human history, whoever controlled the stuff dreams are made of, controlled the whole society. Priests, kings, prophets. They've all controlled the stuff dreams are made of. AND WE HAVE POPULARIZED THE STUFF DREAMS ARE MADE OF AT THE MODEST PRICE OF 2 DOLLARS PER PILL!
People have to understand that the brain has become an elephant, just like welfare state! We have to improve its margins! We have to cut its costs! WE HAVE TO SHRINK THE BRAIN! It's too big and, frankly, a waste of energy! "Limbic center"? Pfah! Useless! PROZAC IT! "Long-term memory storage center"? Nobody has fond memories of childhood; if you weren't raped by your parents, you were bullied by your schoolmates; PROZAC IT! "Awareness of death center"? WHO NEEDS THAT? I'M A GOD! That's a thing for the monkeys we once were!
We're completely free and capable of shaping our life. We make our own choices. We define our existance, we bend it to our will. We don't depend on anyone. If someone is on welfare, it's because he's a fucking bum that doesn't want to work. If we're happy or miserable, it's all our own fault! That's why we need Prozac.
They say PROZAC doesn't work. I say: HAVE A PILL!
Nature took billions of years to develop a system as complex as the brain. But that's no match for the BILLIONS of dollars spent on research to improve that complex and sometimes annoying machine. The point is that Prozac WORKS! I'm the living proof of how miraculous that drug is! I'm a completely sane person SAYING FOOLISH THINGS ON A FUCKING WEBLOG THAT EXISTS ONLY IN THE WIRES WRAPPED AROUND THE GLOBE JUST BECAUSE OF THE IMPRESSION THAT SOMEONE WILL READ WHAT I'M SAYING AND YET STRANGELY AWARE THAT NO ONE IN THE FUCKING WORLD WILL EVER READ THESE DAMNABLE ATTEMPTS AT HUMOR!
Remember who are the British! They're the people that enslaved us! They eat disgusting food! They eat kidneys FOR BREAKFAST! And they don't take as much Prozac as we do! They're not sane! Period. Our scientists are the best in the world. Who are you going to believe? Their scientists? A bunch of pompous pricks with the innermost desire of becoming FRENCH? That's what they are! Someone who looks up to the French doesn't deserve a dime of credit.
PROZAC IS THE STUFF DREAMS ARE MADE OF! Throughout the human history, whoever controlled the stuff dreams are made of, controlled the whole society. Priests, kings, prophets. They've all controlled the stuff dreams are made of. AND WE HAVE POPULARIZED THE STUFF DREAMS ARE MADE OF AT THE MODEST PRICE OF 2 DOLLARS PER PILL!
People have to understand that the brain has become an elephant, just like welfare state! We have to improve its margins! We have to cut its costs! WE HAVE TO SHRINK THE BRAIN! It's too big and, frankly, a waste of energy! "Limbic center"? Pfah! Useless! PROZAC IT! "Long-term memory storage center"? Nobody has fond memories of childhood; if you weren't raped by your parents, you were bullied by your schoolmates; PROZAC IT! "Awareness of death center"? WHO NEEDS THAT? I'M A GOD! That's a thing for the monkeys we once were!
We're completely free and capable of shaping our life. We make our own choices. We define our existance, we bend it to our will. We don't depend on anyone. If someone is on welfare, it's because he's a fucking bum that doesn't want to work. If we're happy or miserable, it's all our own fault! That's why we need Prozac.
They say PROZAC doesn't work. I say: HAVE A PILL!
Monday, February 25, 2008
Britney Spears is dead...
... in my fantasies. What happened to the Lolita that filled our imaginations with lusty promises of sexual scandals, orgies held by presidents fueled by cocaine and "accidentally" released home recordings of unimaginable sexual exploits?
I care not for her well-being. I'm just worried at the possibility that she'll never make it to the headlines as a protagonist in a sex scandal... Will she only appear throwing babies out of windows and piercing the eyes of paparazzi?
Britney, recover, get some exercise. We're right by you side, waiting like jackals for the smallest slip!
Oh, and this just came in... Britney Spears... caught...
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THIS IS ASTONISHING! BRITNEY SPEARS WAS CAUGHT WITH PANTIES! AMAZING! THAT HAS NEVER HAPPENED!
Check out for yourself:
I care not for her well-being. I'm just worried at the possibility that she'll never make it to the headlines as a protagonist in a sex scandal... Will she only appear throwing babies out of windows and piercing the eyes of paparazzi?
Britney, recover, get some exercise. We're right by you side, waiting like jackals for the smallest slip!
Oh, and this just came in... Britney Spears... caught...
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THIS IS ASTONISHING! BRITNEY SPEARS WAS CAUGHT WITH PANTIES! AMAZING! THAT HAS NEVER HAPPENED!
Check out for yourself:
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Interview with Jesus Christ.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, believe me if you can! We've managed to translate an ancient manuscript we've found in an amphora buried in my backyard, and it was revealed to be an authentic interview with no one less than Jesus Christ, our Savior! We haven't yet figured out who would be the man asking questions, that's why we will share the contents of the interview with the online world, so that people from all around the Atlantic Mare Nostrum can give their opinion! The manuscript reads as it follows:
"Hail Jesus Christ! Could you say hello to the 1% of people who can read us?"
"Hello to the 1% of people who can read us!"
"Ah, I see that your accent in Latin is worthy of any roman! How did you manage to learn so many languages?"
"You see, some tongues..."
"Tongues of fire fell from the sky and made you capable of speaking in any language?"
"Oh no, not me..."
"Ahh, so the tongues of fire fell from the sky over the heads of your followers and made THEM capable of speaking any language? What a miracle, praise the Lord!"
"No, I don't have..."
"You don't have permission from the Heavens to speak of the things of your father because the tongues of fire have yet to fall from the sky someday in the future. My God, even time itself is nothing compared to you, is it not true?"
"Actually, time is..."
"Time is the destroyer of worlds, is it not? Oh, I'm mixing up religions. Ehrm... So, Emmanuel, what the deal with Mary Magdalene?"
"Oh, she's..."
"She is the bearer of your child, is she not? The Son of the Son of God, which would make Jehovah a Grandfather, more than a Father. Jesus, one thing that intrigues me: how could you make such a mess in the Temple and leave without any kind of punishment in those harsh days in the ancient world?"
"Oh, but..."
"But of course, you're the son of God, so anything that we can't explain in the Good Book is a miracle happening! Praise the Lord! One last question... did you actually meant that rich people couldn't ever reach the Kingdom of Heaven?"
"Well, rich people..."
"Of course not! A camel going through the eye of a needle isn't something impossible, right? Since by "needle" the ancients actually meant huge passes between pointy rocks in the desert with the exact shape of a needle! That's a relief... For a moment there I thought you were a communist! But, one last question, and now I mean it... "
"Enough! I've had enough of you questions! Stop putting words in my mouth, god damned!"
(moment of silence)
"A blasphemer!!! Crucify him! Crucify him! Crucify him!"
(a mob gathers in seconds, he's crucified, resurrects in the third day, saves us all from doom and goes back to Heaven, but not before sowing the seeds of a huge religion with several branches that would enslave us for thousands of years to come and motivate several of the worst massacres in the human history)
"NOT MY FAULT!"
(all right, all right, I agree)
"Hail Jesus Christ! Could you say hello to the 1% of people who can read us?"
"Hello to the 1% of people who can read us!"
"Ah, I see that your accent in Latin is worthy of any roman! How did you manage to learn so many languages?"
"You see, some tongues..."
"Tongues of fire fell from the sky and made you capable of speaking in any language?"
"Oh no, not me..."
"Ahh, so the tongues of fire fell from the sky over the heads of your followers and made THEM capable of speaking any language? What a miracle, praise the Lord!"
"No, I don't have..."
"You don't have permission from the Heavens to speak of the things of your father because the tongues of fire have yet to fall from the sky someday in the future. My God, even time itself is nothing compared to you, is it not true?"
"Actually, time is..."
"Time is the destroyer of worlds, is it not? Oh, I'm mixing up religions. Ehrm... So, Emmanuel, what the deal with Mary Magdalene?"
"Oh, she's..."
"She is the bearer of your child, is she not? The Son of the Son of God, which would make Jehovah a Grandfather, more than a Father. Jesus, one thing that intrigues me: how could you make such a mess in the Temple and leave without any kind of punishment in those harsh days in the ancient world?"
"Oh, but..."
"But of course, you're the son of God, so anything that we can't explain in the Good Book is a miracle happening! Praise the Lord! One last question... did you actually meant that rich people couldn't ever reach the Kingdom of Heaven?"
"Well, rich people..."
"Of course not! A camel going through the eye of a needle isn't something impossible, right? Since by "needle" the ancients actually meant huge passes between pointy rocks in the desert with the exact shape of a needle! That's a relief... For a moment there I thought you were a communist! But, one last question, and now I mean it... "
"Enough! I've had enough of you questions! Stop putting words in my mouth, god damned!"
(moment of silence)
"A blasphemer!!! Crucify him! Crucify him! Crucify him!"
(a mob gathers in seconds, he's crucified, resurrects in the third day, saves us all from doom and goes back to Heaven, but not before sowing the seeds of a huge religion with several branches that would enslave us for thousands of years to come and motivate several of the worst massacres in the human history)
"NOT MY FAULT!"
(all right, all right, I agree)
Saturday, February 23, 2008
A word of apology to our readers in three continents.
Unfortunately, despite our attempts, we weren't able to gain sponsorship to sustain basic functions of the Walrus Eggman Show.
From now on, we won't be able to use bold letters, as well as the Arial, Verdana and Webdings fonts. We also can't afford to colorize our texts, and we also shall not be able to utilize words beginning with an "n".
We're sorry for the inconvenience, but we'll try our best to keep our high quality standards.
From now on, we won't be able to use bold letters, as well as the Arial, Verdana and Webdings fonts. We also can't afford to colorize our texts, and we also shall not be able to utilize words beginning with an "n".
We're sorry for the inconvenience, but we'll try our best to keep our high quality standards.
Another word from our sponsors.
"What? You again? Three visits now? From two countries? Botswana and Cyprus? A written TV show is NOT funny! WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT THAT? I'm going to sue you for harassment, mister! Give me your name and I'll sue you, you motherfucker!" (click)
A word from our sponsors.
"What? Sponsor a sorry excuse for a blog? What? TWO people already visited the...? No, no, no, are you crazy? What is my answer? Are you deaf? The answer is... I don't care if you have drawed a nice banner with Paintbrush! Oh, enough of this" (click, tu-tu-tu-tu)
Is Barack Obama the right man for The Chair?
(with the clear and triumphant voice of a herald announcing to a crowd a carnage about to happen in a private arena of death)
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm your host for the evening, Walrus Eggman, and this is just One More Lousy Blog!
I'm not the Walrus, since John Lennon was the Walrus. And I'm not the Eggman, since I've never entertained sexual experiences with eggs assigned to key roles!
I'm just another Walrus Eggman, a name as common as John Smith, Jane Watson or Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and this is just "ONE MORE LOUSY BLOG"!
Tonight we ask ourselves: "Is Barack Obama the right man for The Chair?"
To help us in this show, we proudly present two of the greatest minds living in America. On one corner, we have a real champion of America. Thousands of americans want to be like him! He is a wonderous fighter and almost a sex symbol. If he were a woman, he would have already been invited to pose for the Playboy magazine! Weighting 35 pounds, he iiiis... OSAMA BIN LADEN! (cheers)
On the other corner, we have a man of principle. A man of actions instead of words. He is the champion of morality! The standard by which all of us are measured! With an one-eyed-snake that weights over 35 pounds, we give youuu... ROCCO SIFFREDI!
So, I ask the two of you what I have already asked the audience: is Barack Obama the right man for... THE CHAIR? I warn you that the answer I'm seeking is "no", so cooperate with me and you won't be bullied to the amusement of our millions of viewers! I know that Rocco Siffredi is somehow impervious to that, but we have devised ways to make you suffer, Rocco, so cope with us. It seems you're embarassed with your ludicrously squeaky voice, so we'll play recordings from before your vocal implants to make you sound like Darth Vader if you do not answer "NO!".
Osama Bin Laden, age before beauty. Is Barack Obama the right man for The Chair?
OBL: "Good evening, everyone. Well, first, allow me to introduce myself. I am Usama al-Momineem Muktadr al-Sadr Saddam Husseim Kebab Nakhla Bin Laden, but my friends and family just call me 'Binny'. Well, as you have undoubtedly realized by now, Barack Obama is a relative of mine. He is the son of my nephew's brother-in-law with the brother-in-arms of a former comrade that married the stepmother of my cousins in third degree. And I'm dating his sister.
Anyone could assume that I would support him because of my relations with him. But that won't happen! The stepmother of my cousins in third degree stole a goat from the grandfather of a musician that played in the marriage of an adopted daughter of my cousins in SECOND degree. As everyone knows, SECOND degree is more important than the THIRD degree, so we've cut relations with that entire side of the family.
That's why I have no qualms in stating that Barack Obama is NOT the right man to become president of this great country"
We thank our old friend Binny for the eloquent statement! This man is the avatar of the clarity of vision! And now, we ask Rocco Siffredi the same question: is Barack Obama the right man for The Chair?
RS: "Ahhhm. Cumshots. Threesomes. Sylvia Saint. Squirting."
What? We can't understand you, Rocco. Speak plain English so that everyone that matters in the world can understand!
RS: "Bondage. I can't recall any other words that would mark this blog as of adult content. MILF! No..."
Ahhhh, so you agree with Binny, your answer is "No"!
RS: "No underwear parties. No condoms."
The fine gentlemen and women of the audience will have to excuse us, as we're experiencing some technical difficulties. (commercials)
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm your host for the evening, Walrus Eggman, and this is just One More Lousy Blog!
I'm not the Walrus, since John Lennon was the Walrus. And I'm not the Eggman, since I've never entertained sexual experiences with eggs assigned to key roles!
I'm just another Walrus Eggman, a name as common as John Smith, Jane Watson or Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and this is just "ONE MORE LOUSY BLOG"!
Tonight we ask ourselves: "Is Barack Obama the right man for The Chair?"
To help us in this show, we proudly present two of the greatest minds living in America. On one corner, we have a real champion of America. Thousands of americans want to be like him! He is a wonderous fighter and almost a sex symbol. If he were a woman, he would have already been invited to pose for the Playboy magazine! Weighting 35 pounds, he iiiis... OSAMA BIN LADEN! (cheers)
On the other corner, we have a man of principle. A man of actions instead of words. He is the champion of morality! The standard by which all of us are measured! With an one-eyed-snake that weights over 35 pounds, we give youuu... ROCCO SIFFREDI!
So, I ask the two of you what I have already asked the audience: is Barack Obama the right man for... THE CHAIR? I warn you that the answer I'm seeking is "no", so cooperate with me and you won't be bullied to the amusement of our millions of viewers! I know that Rocco Siffredi is somehow impervious to that, but we have devised ways to make you suffer, Rocco, so cope with us. It seems you're embarassed with your ludicrously squeaky voice, so we'll play recordings from before your vocal implants to make you sound like Darth Vader if you do not answer "NO!".
Osama Bin Laden, age before beauty. Is Barack Obama the right man for The Chair?
OBL: "Good evening, everyone. Well, first, allow me to introduce myself. I am Usama al-Momineem Muktadr al-Sadr Saddam Husseim Kebab Nakhla Bin Laden, but my friends and family just call me 'Binny'. Well, as you have undoubtedly realized by now, Barack Obama is a relative of mine. He is the son of my nephew's brother-in-law with the brother-in-arms of a former comrade that married the stepmother of my cousins in third degree. And I'm dating his sister.
Anyone could assume that I would support him because of my relations with him. But that won't happen! The stepmother of my cousins in third degree stole a goat from the grandfather of a musician that played in the marriage of an adopted daughter of my cousins in SECOND degree. As everyone knows, SECOND degree is more important than the THIRD degree, so we've cut relations with that entire side of the family.
That's why I have no qualms in stating that Barack Obama is NOT the right man to become president of this great country"
We thank our old friend Binny for the eloquent statement! This man is the avatar of the clarity of vision! And now, we ask Rocco Siffredi the same question: is Barack Obama the right man for The Chair?
RS: "Ahhhm. Cumshots. Threesomes. Sylvia Saint. Squirting."
What? We can't understand you, Rocco. Speak plain English so that everyone that matters in the world can understand!
RS: "Bondage. I can't recall any other words that would mark this blog as of adult content. MILF! No..."
Ahhhh, so you agree with Binny, your answer is "No"!
RS: "No underwear parties. No condoms."
The fine gentlemen and women of the audience will have to excuse us, as we're experiencing some technical difficulties. (commercials)
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