Google Search “What is Coprophagia?”

On Thursday, Google will plant a chip in your brain that will allow advertisers to feed Doritos’ commercials directly into your cerebral cortex.

That sentence might not be entirely accurate, but I know Google is changing something about its privacy policy because it sent me an email, which I didn’t read because I was too distracted by an ad in the email for the Dorito shell at Taco Bell. It looked really healthy and really orange.

The French are all like “Sacre bleu” about this. Why? I don’t know because I only the read headline of the article and then clicked on an ad for StirChef™ Hands-free Saucepan Stirrer. Do you realize you can have your hands-free stirrer stir your Dorito casserole while you eat a Dorito taco?

Progress.

Okay so basically, Google will be able to consolidate all of your searches in various platforms like youtube, gmail and the google search engine into one giant chocolate chip cookie that will be fed lovingly to advertisers. “In short, we can treat you as a single user across all our products,” coos Google.

So expect your ads to get really specific. And if you are someone like me, who looks up a lot of weird sh*t because you write a blog and/or are a giant weirdo, expect to see this:

Coprophagia is the eating of feces. I write a lot about turds. See here and here. Here. I am not a coprohagiast, but I go to Google quite frequently and type thing like: “turd face” “show me turds” “write my blog about turds, please.”

Or this ad:

I look up a lot about Donald Trump. I look up a lot about adult baby syndrome. How are they connected? Only Google knows.

I also like to search about horrendous people featured in Lifetime movies or on Dateline NBC. I don’t possess the patience to sit through these programs in their entirety. One might say I have the patience of an adult baby. Who likes steaks. And is possibly into coprophagia. Like on Sunday, I caught the tale end of Drew Peterson:Untouchable on Lifetime, and it was….um….well, it was this:

Rob Lowe, as Drew Peterson, does a slo-mo strip tease for police officers, and it ends. Which seemed odd. And abrupt. I didn’t quite understand how this could be the ending. It would be like suddenly ending this blog post with some weird picture. So I had to look up “Drew Peterson” in Google and now I will get this ad:

“My (Turds) Were Emotional, Reactionary, and Inflammatory”

Bob Morris is sorry, you guys.

He is deeply sorry. He is so so sorry that his letter calling the Girl Scouts of America a lair of anal-lovin’, communist-sympathizen’, abortion-havin’ Planned Parenthood lovers made it out of his protective lair of non anal-lovin’, non communist-sympathizen’, non abortion-havin’ Planned Parenthood haters, otherwise known as Republicans.

He is not sorry, however, about what he said. The Girl Scouts are in cahoots with a group that represents the “biggest evil of our time.”

Had Bob known his letter would reach a wider audience, he would have included proof, you guys (Here is the post on his original letter). Instead of just writing, Girl Scouts teach your daughter to perform an abortion on her Barbie, he would have written: “According to sources, Girl Scouts teach your daughter to perform an abortion on her Barbie.” Now was this sentence actually included in Bob’s letter? I provided you with a link, and you may have actually read the letter, and you may now be thinking No, that sentence isn’t there. And I would have to disagree because my sources say yes.

My sources say this sentence was also included in Bob’s non-apology apology letter: “Now when I made love to that sheep, I did what was right, I did not use protection.”

It’s there. I don’t care if you cannot actually see it.

It’s the same way Bob doesn’t care that both Girl Scouts and Planned Parenthood have said “We don’t know what the f— Bob Morris is talking about in his letter, but it in no way reflects reality.” Bob is still like “La la la!! I can’t hear you! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!!  Look at this picture of me.”

"Don't I look like someone who has a clear grasp on reality?"

Bob includes a link to the World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts. It shows a picture of 14 girls under the heading “Young People Advocating for Sexual and Reproductive Rights.”  This was taken at some UN Conference on the status of women in the world. This is the smoking gun. But it’s not as good as this picture:

"I'm a 100 percent positive that Dolly is not a Communist."

This picture was taken at an awards ceremony where Bob received the most coveted award one can receive, Turd of the Week™.

This turd was shat from the bottom of an opponent of Planned Parenthood

At Least the Cookies are Good

I used to be a girl scout.

I didn’t last very long. Six months, tops. I don’t like camping or people or camping with people. I like Girl Scout cookies. I like the eating of Girl Scout cookies, not the selling of them, which is something you do if you are a girl scout. I am not a seller. One horrible summer, I had a temporary job selling family portraits in the mall. The lure was getting the mark to sign up for the chance to win a $500 shopping spree. While they signed up, you were suppose to go into your spiel about buying a portrait. This was mine: “Oh…um….we’re also selling portraits? Yeah…um…so if you’re not interested, I won’t bother talking about it?”

Not a seller.

I loved those badges, though. I wanted every last stinkin’ one of them even though I had no desire to master the skill the badge represented. I had four. My memory’s hazy but I believe I had the “Shows ability to breathe” badge, “Showed up for a Girl Scouts meeting” badge, “Really wants a badge” badge, and “Ate the most Girl Scouts cookies” badge. Not an illustrious career.

I would like to say I got out because I didn’t approve of the Girl Scouts’ pro-abortion, pro-hot sex and pro-Communist agenda, but that would make me crazy. And I rather let Indiana State Rep. Bob Morris say it for me (I believe his letter to the Republican caucus earns him the “Batshit crazy” badge).

Judging from his picture, I would say Bob has a very healthy attitude toward sex and is living the Christian life that he should. This is Bob:

"I look completely normal."

Now why is Bob writing this letter? Well because the Indiana Legislature is poised to pass some meaningless resolution recognizing the 100th anniversary of the nefarious undertakings of the Girl Scouts of America. Bob found all of his information from talking to “well-informed constituents” and surfing the Web. I engaged in the same rigorous study and uncovered that Bob Morris’s brain was eaten by woodchucks (source: speaker7.wordpress.com).

The Girl Scouts have become a “tactical arm of Planned Parenthood” and are in danger of making “our daughters” more receptive to the pro-abortion agenda, he writes.

Dammit! Are you telling me I missed out on this badge!?!

How did that happen!?! I am ALL about abortions. I love me some abortions. What woman doesn’t?!? That’s why I say I’m pro-abortion because that is what that side believes in, baby (or I should say notbaby).

“A Girl Scouts of America training program last year used the Planned Parenthood sex education pamphlet ‘Happy, Healthy and Hot.’ The pamphlet instructs young girls not to think of sex as ‘just about vaginal or anal intercourse. There is no right or wrong way to have sex. Just have fun, explore and be yourself!'” Bob writes.

Now I could find no proof anywhere that this actually happened, but neither could I find proof that a Bob Morris fundraiser last year included a demonstration on how to have tantric sex with livestock. Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

But I’m totally bummed that I missed out on the “Hot sex” badge:

Many people are abandoning Girl Scouts because they promote a homosexual lifestyle, Bob writes. The Girl Scouts encourage girls to examine the lives of 50 (unidentified) role models who are predominately gay, feminist or communist or all three, states Bob. There is no reason to identify the role models. The same way there is no reason to fact check this statement: Bob Morris had a love child with Osama Bin Laden.

Is communism still a thing to be scared about?  Oh yes, that’s right, I could have gotten this badge:

Bob’s daughters used to be active in their girl scout troup, but not anymore. I hope it has something to do with their hatred of camping, but I fear it has more to do with their father being beyond awful.

And unfortunately there is no Girl Scout badge for that.

A Turdendum

I held Darrell Issa’s hand the first time he got his period. He was worried.

“Am I going to die?” he asked through his tears. “I feel like I’m dying. The blood. The pain.”

“You’re not dying, you’re becoming a woman,” I answered.

“What does that mean?” he asked earnestly.

“Well, it means that you are able to have children of your own,” I said, wrapping an afghan around his shoulders and handing him a mug of chamomile tea to help ease the cramps. “Someday, you’ll fall in love, get married and then chair a government oversight committee that will try to deny basic health care to women under the guise that it is infringing on the religious beliefs of others.”

I was just kidding when I told him that so many years ago, but then this week, I realized Darrell took what I said to heart.

The fretful preteen who danced to Like a Virgin in my living room, banged a gavel and said the health care provision of mandating contraceptive coverage for women was akin to kicking God in the nuts (I’m paraphrasing).

“Women should be forced to have as many children until their uteruses or is it uteri? resemble beaten-up change purses made out of cheesecloth. And then they are put to sleep. It’s nature and religion. It’s naturally religious,” Darrell solemnly said.

Although I was appalled, I was happy that Darrell at least brought in male religious leaders who are the leading experts in women’s health to testify before his committee. Those with uteri were told to stay out of it. The experts said things like:

“Women–boo!!”

And:

“Obama–boo!!”

And:

“Jesus–yay!”

When asked about their comments, Jesus stated “I don’t know these guys, man.”

There is so much I don’t understand.

First, why did God kill Onan when Onan spilled his seed on the ground rather than in his brother’s wife (Genesis 38:9)?

Second, why is a woman unclean for seven days after giving birth to a male and unclean for two weeks after giving birth to a female (Leviticus)?

And lastly, why did I jump the gun on handing out my Turd of the Week™?  Please accept this turdendum.

And God said to the turds: "Be fruitful and increase in number."

The Greatest Turd of All

The night Whitney Houston died, I remember clearly thinking:

I wonder what Bill O’Reilly thinks about this?

Lucky for me–and the world–he shared his views on his show and in his column and later again on the Today show and then again on Fox & Friends. Bill harped on how the media exploited Whitney’s troubles when she was alive. He said this on his show and then in his column and later again on the Today show and then again on Fox & Friends.

“The media exploited her,” O’Reilly thundered. On his show, and then in his column and later again on the Today show and then again on Fox & Friends.

Bill O’Reilly has a new book coming out, Killing Kennedy. But before we get to learning about that literary masterpiece, Matt Lauer wants to talk about what Bill O’Reilly said on his show, which Bill then reiterated in his column (If you want to know what Matt and Bill talked about, you can watch O’Reilly rehash it on Fox & Friends)

“You said blah blah blah,” Matt quotes from Bill’s no-spin mouth.

“Yup,” Bill says, lathering a falafel.

“Then you said blah blah blah,” Matt quotes. “And people are all like ‘you dick.'”

“People have not been paying attention to me,” Bill says. “That’s why I yelled on my show. And now you’re interviewing me. And my comments are the subject of 870 news articles. And I’m headed to Fox & Friends next to bleat and moo some more until my vocal chords shred into pieces of confetti. I prayed for Whitney Houston.”

“Okay, but I’m going to get all up in arms over this in way that I never do about news stories that actually matter,” Matt says.

“Bring it Lauer,” Bill says and then sexually harasses an intern.

“You said that Whitney wanted to kill herself and that all people who take hard drugs are the same,” Matt paraphrases for Speaker7 because do you really expect her to listen to Matt over and over again to get the quote 100 percent accurate. “Addiction is a disease. And if you’re suffering from a disease, then you cannot make that choice.”

“Wrong,” O’Reilly says. “There are real diseases like elephantitis of the penis, which I suffer from greatly, ladies. If any ladies want to know how greatly, I will show them in the shower right after I rub them down with a falafel. Free will, Lauer. We, the media, look the other way–when instead we should be as judgmental as possible.”

“Should journalists be in the position of conducting interventions?” Matt asks, and that’s a good question. I’m kind of stunned. Matt Lauer asked a good question.

“They should be in the business of telling the truth,” O’Reilly responds. “Unless they are writing a book like Killing Lincoln. Then it’s okay to insert lots of factual errors, so many so, that the Ford Theater refuses to carry your book.”

Bill insists he was the only person to tell Whitney to knock it off. Why she didn’t listen to him will always haunt him.

“So tell us about your upcoming book,” Matt queries

“It will be horrible, but it will make me a lot of money,” O’Reilly turds. He turds this because he is the Turd of the Week™.

I prayed for this turd on my head.

To Know the Actual Love For You

Wouldn’t that be something–especially today of all days, the 14th day in the month-long celebration of National Bird Feeding? To know the actual love the actual someone has for the actual person who is you? I wish there was a list of actual tips. Maybe written by someone for whom English is a second language. Then I would know if a guy has a love for their girls.

The Internet never ceases to amaze me, whether it be sating my never-ending desire to know all there is to know about adult baby syndrome or helping to master the intricacies of the Shake Weight®, it always comes through for me. Google even made me a video Valentine I never finished watching because I clicked on a link to learn how to get freakishly long eye lashes (cow urine moistened onto the eyelashes followed by dollop of bird urine, cover with gauze). It was difficult to read through the gauze, but I did find a website that answered the age-old question:

How is it possible to know the actual love of the guy for you?

Tip 1 – When he takes interest in your matters like your work schedule.

I asked Mr. Speaker7 if he knew what I did at 10:35 a.m. today. He responded: “No, what did you do?”  I have been giving him the silent treatment ever since, and broke it only to say what I would like to order for take out.

Tip 2 – When a guy keeps a track on your habits.

I break my silence. What is my number 1 habit? I ask my husband. “Sitting in front of a computer screen for hours,” he responds.

The correct response is ribbon sorting.

Tip 3 – When a guy wants to spend more time with you, dates out with you and shares your favorite pastimes, then he is madly in love with you.

Do you want to mix up these ribbons and then sort them by thread count? I ask. “It’s been a really long day,” sighs Mr. Speaker7

Tip 4 – If he tries to be friendly with you, it show signs of love for you.

I think the supermarket cashier is into me because he said “Here you go. Have a nice day” rather than spitting in my face, a clear sign of no love for you.

Tip 5 – Changing of topic when you discuss about your future with him is not a good sign of a healthy relationship with your love.

What is the future of your relationship with my love? I query breathlessly. “…” responds Mr. Speaker7 because he left the room 20 minutes ago to stop answering these questions.

Tip 6 -His every action will make you believe he loves you.

Really? His every action? All humans poop. There was even a book written about it. Should I see if he is or is not pooping on a photo of me? How far do I go here? I mean your tip is very specific and helpful, but where do we draw the line? Ball scratching? Yes, ball scratching.

I think that’s a good tip to end on especially since Tip 17 is “knowing when to end your blog post on a positive love note shows he feels in love with his love over you” and there are 3,259 other tips. And Mr. Speaker7’s action of folding laundry when I hate folding laundry is clearly making me believe he loves me in a sharing of not-favorite-pastimes-kind-of way.

Happy Bird Feeding Month to you all!

Ronald Reagan’s name is mentioned in this post.

I’m drunk.

This was unintended. I knew I needed to write a Turd of the Week™ post. The orphans of America need it. The widows of America need it. The widowed orphans of America need it.

But let’s say it: I’m in a bit of a slump. Does that make you feel better, you widowed orphans with your gruel and your tears and your “please, sir, I want some more”? I bet it does. I bet it feels just as good as a second helping of slop slopped into a dented bowl.

So I opened a bottle of wine and poured it down my gullet, hoping the fermented grapes would help me on my turd vision quest.

There is a veritable turd cornucopia happening in D.C. at this moment. The Conservative Political Action Conference, CPAC, is underway. Ann Coulter has stated that only pretty girls are right-wing. The name Ronald Reagan has been mentioned 5,124,902,321 times. And I have heard too much…hence the drunkative drunkical drunkation drunference of 2012 sponsored by Beringer.

I really should have stuck with sussing out the “emotional” interview a “real” “housewife” had with a “real” “doctor.” I am meaning the collagen-lipped Taylor Armstrong and the celebrity-rehabbed Dr. Drew. But I gave up after one fruitless Google search and a half-hour wasted on Facebook reading people’s Pinterests.

And while they are both turds, they did not meet the stringent requirements of Turd of the Week™.

Rep. Sen. Mitch McConnell spoke at CPAC. This is him:

He said many things I didn’t understand, but then again I do not speak turtle. He ended his speech with the rallying cry: “Don’t pick on Fox News!!”

Not bad.

But then I thought I should watch Newt Gingrich’s speech. It was 30 minutes long. Thirty minutes long. It was thirty minutes long. It was as long as a sitcom rerun without the commercial break. It’s still happening. I began writing this blog post after his 10th mention of Ronald Reagan. I pick up my earbud, and he’s still talking. “The corporate tax rate should be 12 percent. Ronald Reagan,” he bleats.

And I down my second bottle and weep.

President Obama wants to declare war on the Catholic Church, Newt insists. I am thinking this has something to do with the new health care rule that requires insurance coverage for birth control. As someone who has frequent affairs, Newt should be a fan of birth control. But he’s more a fan of pandering to a crowd of people who likely also use birth control otherwise the Duggan family wouldn’t have a reality show, right?

So he’s a giant-headed giant turd.

I’m going to go pass out now. jggjkljadlkdj

The Turd Towers

I am a worrier.

I worry about my job security in the public sector. I worry that I can’t leave the hangnail on my thumb alone and will result in me peeling off all my thumb skin. I worry my exposed thumb will give me restless leg syndrome.

And I worry that my devoted readers will think I put no effort into my Turd of the Week™ segment by naming Donald Trump Turd of the Week™.

Calling Trump a turd is akin to calling a rose a rose or Trump a shameless self-promoting megalomaniacal dickhead.

Nonetheless, readers, nonethemore, his turdishness stood out among all the other floaters in the toilet bowl by his ridiculous announcement of his upcoming announcement of his endorsement of an announcement of announcement. Yes, Donald Trump was going to open his big fat mouth, stretch his overused vocal cords and say something no one in the world should ever care about…..and the media was there to faithfully cover it all.

“I’m here to announce that my hair is made 100 percent out of Trump steaks.”

He tried to be sneaky by making some media outlets think he was going to endorse an overgrown baby for president.

“Don’t worry Newt, ol’ buddy ol’ pal, I’ve got a spot for you on “Celebrity Apprentice XXMMVXC.” It will also feature another baby, the baby from the E*TRADE commercials.

The Today show sent a turnip to Las Vegas to get the scoop. “…” said the turnip because turnips cannot speak. Others said “Trump’s a showman.” So is the guy who makes balloon animals at the county fair.

Trump had toyed with the idea of running for president himself. But then he realized it would be difficult to file bankruptcy for the entire country like he did for his own businesses.

Trump instead endorsed another really rich guy who could care less about the very poor. I’m paraphrasing. Republican presidential frontrunner Mitt Romney actually said “I’m not concerned about the very poor.” The very poor responded “We’re too hungry to even be able to process your statement. Oh and pfffftttttt.”

Donald Trump talked lots and lots. So do his comb-over. He mentioned China and laughter and blop. His hair flopped around with emphasis. And then his hair said: “Blippetedy bleep bleep Mitt Romney” and people applauded wildly because they are paid to do so. And then Trump checked out Mittens’ wife and said “And by the way this is a great couple, will you look at this couple” and people cheered somewhat uncomfortably and then awkwardly looked at their shoes.

And then Trump the showman finished with a twirl: “Mitt is tough. He’s smart. He’s sharp. He’s not going to allow bad things to continue to happen to this country we love. He will eat all the very poor and then crap them out in a productive manner. His wife has a great rack. Gov. Romney go out and get ’em. You can do it.”

Well turded, hairpiece. Well turded.