The Day The Earth Stood Still

Alien invaders don't always want to kill us, but when they don't, we usually prove why they should. It all started with the 1951 classic The Day The Earth Stood Still, when an alien named Klaatu and his robot friend Gort came to Earth to save us all from ourselves. They were shot within 10 seconds of landing, imprisoned, escaped, got turned in by a filthy human for the reward, then got shot again ... to death.

But, it's even worse than that: Klaatu wasn't any ordinary interplanetary goodwill ambassador. If you put the pieces of the puzzle together-a mysterious visitor from the heavens, suffering for our transgressions, gets turned in by someone he trusts and is ultimately sacrificed-it becomes fairly clear that we killed Jesus. Again! Way to go, humanity. Real classy.

Letter Found!

Discovered recently are many letters and speeches, written by our esteemed and Level 35 Wizard President. Though as I release them you will come to realize why these never reached the public. Some are too much for some people to handle, or maybe just to stupid. Read on and find out for yourself.

As he asks, "What part are you at? I'm lost.".



My feline (fellow) Americans,

Tomorrow you'll be heading to the poles (polls, these are not strippers we're writing to) to do something Americans have been doing for decades (centuries) called voting. As owner of the United States (you're the President, not the owner) I would like to encourage you in the great tradition of other presidents such as myself (don't refer to yourself among "other" Presidents), Ronald Reagan, Ronald Reagan junior (never a president) , Richard Nixon and Teddy Ruxpin (never a president, not even real) not to vote right now (none of these Presidents ever encouraged people not to vote and neither should you!) .

Every day, thousands of people are killed on their way to cast their vote due to liberal drivers swerving erotically (erratically) all over the roads and conservative drivers driving straight and not turning ever. Last voting time (election) more than two halves of all Americans did not vote. The other half that did vote are still missing or are dead. I tried to look for them but when I was gone we started losing in Iraq so I came back and we're doing good again.

(First of all, Americans do not vote every day. Second, not that this should even be in this letter, but "driving straight and not turning ever" as you claim conservatives do, would be just as dangerous as the erratic driving you're accusing liberals of. Also, recheck your voting statistics. It is impossible for there to be more than two halves of a population, let alone an extra half to boot as you are claiming. Most importantly here, the people who voted in the last election will read your claim that all voters went missing or were killed and know it is false. As a sidebar, no one expects you, as the President of the United States, to go looking for missing people on your own.)

Things are going really good. You're alive right? Right?! (I'd get rid of the second 'right?!' It sounds panicked, as if you are afraid you may be writing to the undead.)

If you vote everything will change. Up will become down, black will become up, up will become warm, warm will become lukewarm, lukewarm will become Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker will become Lucky Charms, Lucky Charms will become Cheerios, Cheerios will become burritos and I will be danged if I'm going to be pouring milk over burritos. So this November DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!!!!! (The logical progression of this statement is highly questionable at best.)

The next few words put together and ended with periods (just say sentences) is to be read by Republicans only. Democrats close your eyes for the next five minutes (the words are not going to disappear after five minutes. You shouldn't be sending secret messages in letters addressed to everyone.)

Okay, Republicans, definitely go vote. I know you're afraid now that you're going to get killed but I need you to be brave (So you actually believe several people were killed on their way to vote in 2004?!)

Okay, Democrats, go ahead and open your eyes (they can't hear you!) . I had to tell the Republicans where we're going to have our next convention. Democrats close your eyes here again please for a second.

Okay, Republicans, I know you are now confused and trying to figure out where I said we are going to hold our next convention. Don't worry, I didn't say it. I just needed an excuse.

Okay, Democrats, you can join us again. I just had to add some directions as to how to get to our next convention. Dang it, close your eyes again.

Dang it Republicans!!! I told you! I didn't really say where the next convention is!!!! Don't worry about the directions we'll figure that out later!! (Who are you arguing with?!)

Okay everyone. So in conclusion, the next Republican convention will be held in Philadelphia. Oh crap! I just gave away our secret location!!!! I'm out of here!!!!!

(It is never a good idea to end a letter with you running away from it. You also should not conclude with a point that has nothing to do with the thesis of the letter. We need to talk, yet again, about the powers of the delete key. Just for the record, the location of the next Republican National Convention is no big secret.)

(This letter should never be sent, being as how you are basically trying to undermine democracy through it. Let's keep this only as a learning tool to help you get better. I'll write something reminding Americans about the importance of getting out and voting and get it back to you as soon as possible.)

The Official Mel Gibson Police Report

Date: July 29, 2006

Time: 2:36 a.m.

Location: Pacific Coast Highway, Malibu, CA.

Offense: DUI

Description of Events:

2006 Lexus going 87 mph in 45 mph road. Upon hearing sirens, the vehicle slowed and started running strange patterns on highway. I stopped vehicle and asked Mr. Gibson why he was doing "donuts" on the Pacific Coast Highway. Gibson advised that he would never do "donuts" because the "Jews control all donut production in the world." He further advised that "Munchkins were invented by greedy Jews who wanted to turn a profit even on the donut holes."

Mr. Gibson then failed the field sobriety test in all respects: recited alphabet in German rather than in English as requested; repeatedly gave the Zeig Heil salute when attempting to touch nose; could not walk a straight line. (In fairness to Mr. Gibson, he increased the difficulty of the task by insisting on walking in goose step fashion while wearing jackboots.)

After attempting to flee the scene, Gibson shouted that "Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world." These outbursts continued for the next five minutes. Mr. Gibson claimed the Jews were also responsible for:

the death of Jesus;

the impalement of William Wallace;

the disfigurement of The Man Without A Face;

the ransoming of his son;

the plot holes in Signs;

and the overall shitiness of The Million Dollar Motel.



Attempting to inject some levity into this tense situation, I quoted Danny Glover from the Lethal Weapon movies and said, "I'm getting too old for this shit." My joke appeared successful as Mr. Gibson smiled. It turned out, however, that Mr. Gibson was merely relieving himself in his pants. At this point, Mr. Gibson attempted to play off his behavior as "research." He claimed to be doing a movie about the son of a Jew-hating New Yorker who denies the Holocaust ever happened and then moves his family to Australia. The son returns to the States where he stars in action movies until he finds his true calling of making films about martyrs while drunkenly offending Jews. When asked about the title of this project, Gibson panicked, screamed "Jews eat babies!" and once again wet himself.

After being handcuffed, Mr. Gibson' mood changed for the better. He became more cooperative, repeatedly asking to be flogged while wearing a crown of thorns. As we are the LAPD, we were able to accommodate half of that request. The remainder of the arrest was uneventful, with the exception of Mr. Gibson screaming, "Freedom!" out the back of the police car on the drive to the station.

John Wayne is dead

It's a new year and you know what that means: the beginning of the end of the world. Whether it be robots, aliens, buses, clones, zombies, vampires, whatever. That's not the issue. The question you gotta ask yourself is:

Who is gonna rise up and be mankind's savior when the shit goes down? Will Smith, maybe Arnold Schwarzengger or perhaps Keanu Reeves?

Jesus, you say? Still waiting on his return. I'm talking about if the shit went down tomorrow.

My Butt Is Full Of Poo

So, do you ever listen to a song and think or know that it would be better with different lyrics. I know I do all the time. Now you have to realize that if you were to take the song and change the lyrics that you might have the author of the original lyrics coming to kick your ass. Maybe kill you.

So when I chose a song to rewrite, I had to choose one where you would look at the singer/songwriter and say "What a fag, I could kick his/her ass!" Then I had to choose a song where that would be the complete opposite of what would actually happen.

James Blunt served as a captain in the British Army. Granted, it's the British Army, but you can bet your ass that the training required to make captain involves learning several techniques that would see to it that he could whoop my ass six ways to Sunday before I land a single womanly slap. To make matters worse (for me), during the war in Kosovo, Blunt was put in charge of leading 30,000 troops into the Kosovan capital. So not only could he fuck me up proper, he's the type of dude that people put in charge of ordering around tens of thousands of other men fully capable of doing the same.

Oh....Really!!!!



My Bowel Movements (My Butt Is Full)
: By Jared Hubbard

Written to the music of:

You're Beautiful
: By James Blunt



My bowel movements
-
My bowel movements
My butt is raw
I ate some Mexican
And now it burns
It came on me on the subway
It happened in my pants
But I am not too worried
Cause I've got Depends
-
My butt is full, my butt is full
My butt is full, of poo
And I shit my pants in a crowded place
And there is nothing I can do
Cause I can't control my poo
-
Yes, it burns my ass
Even when it's gas
You could see in my face that it had
Made a mess
I don't know if it will wash out but
I know I can buy more pairs of pants
-
My butt is full, my butt is full
My butt is full, of poo
And I shit my pants in a crowded place
And there is nothing I can do
Cause I can't control my poo
-
Poo poo poo poo poo poo poo poo
-
My butt is full, my butt is full
My butt is full, of poo
I had the worst shit, with a wince on my face
When some ran into my shoe
I have come to face the truth
I'll never be done with poo