media

Trump Fluff

Nothing has meaning.

Because nothing has meaning, America’s favorite winking Tourettes’ sufferer Sarah Palin interviewed America’s favorite decomposing pumpkin Donald Trump.

It was an interviewing tour de force. Palin used words in an order that somewhat resembled sentences to fluff Trump’s presidential scepter, and Trump continued to resemble an orange-hued blobfish.

As expected, the interview made our inevitable decline more inevitable America great again.

So you don’t have to watch it and shave years off your life like I have, I condensed it to the highlights.

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I don’t know about you, but I am suffering from Trump Fatigue™. I would really like to not write anymore about him so America, if you could stop considering him as a real presidential candidate as opposed to a deflated nut sack, I would appreciate it.

This Post is Sponsored by the Letters H, B and O

Some parents are concerned that the acquisition of the beloved children’s television show Sesame Street by HBO, the purveyor of breasts, will continue America’s decline into a giant shithole. Justin knows what I’m saying:

justinNot so, says Jeffrey D. Dunn, chief executive of Sesame Workshop. Things will invariably stay the same with some tweaks to keep Sesame Street up-to-date with the digital natives we ween from breastfeeding apps.

“It will still be Sesame Street with Big Bird, Elmo and that shitbag who lives in a garbage can,” Dunn said. He did note there were would be some content changes to “spice things up in the way HBO viewers are used to, and to make young children enslaved to HBO for life.”

“What I’m basically saying is tits. Lots of tits.”

For examples, writers will focus more on the relationship between Big Bird and Snuffy. They will be recast as 20-something friends trying to find their way in the big city in the style of Girls but with a giant imaginary monster and a talking bird.

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snuffygirls2Dunn said more emphasis will be placed on The Count in the sense that he will be given a love interest.

“I mean The Count is kind of a drag,” Dunn said. “Yes he can count. Like bats and whoopie pies, but what if he was involved in an obsessive and dangerous relationship with a southern waitress? Then you’d definitely see your child counting past 20.”

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Kid will also be challenged more. Instead of trying to guess what object does not belong in a group, children will be asked to test their talents in solving a mystery.

“We’re talking about taking one of those nondescript muppets like Maggle or Furry and getting real deep into the complexities of the human soul,” Dunn said.

Dunn said it would designed as an anthology. Each season would star different monsters in the detective role. The detectives would all have alcoholism, daddy issues, obsessive needs to pontificate on nonsense that make viewers feel the monsters are deep, and storylines that you believe are good, but in the end suck balls. And there will be many topless muppets used as props because…um…tits?

“But it will be completely for kids because it will take place on different playgrounds across the country,” Dunn said.

truedetectiveAnd, or course, the Sesame Street cast will pay homage to Game of Thrones.

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The Good Ol’ Pricks Debate

I watched the entire GOP debate last night and while my stomach muscles are still strained from all the dry-heaving, I felt compelled to actually write a post to share the highlights.

There were so many good things happening—so, so many. So many fantastic visionaries on one stage, so many enthusiastic audience members cheering the worst things, so many witnesses to the demise of the American democratic system.

It’s really hard to pick a favorite moment, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try.

It began with a shot of the most popular candidate at the moment, Donald Trump. I believe his face truly represents the face of the Republican Party:

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There was that special time when Trump was asked about his penchant for calling woman “fat pigs”, “slobs”, “disgusting animals” and “losers who don’t appreciate megalomaniacs with Easter-grass toupees and micropenises”:

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Then there was that beautiful moment when the audience cheered wildly about Trump’s claim of referring to only one woman as a “fat pig”.

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I also enjoyed when Trump gave “evidence” about his claim that Mexico only sends the criminals, drug dealers and rapists to this country:

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Or the moment Trump said his solution to immigration was to build a wall and that he asked former Florida Gov. Jeb Bush to do it:

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There was the time Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker made this face:

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And then made this face:

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And then opened his mouth and I finally understood the concept of the banality of evil:

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Or that time when Sen. Marco Rubio was asked about his support of allowing abortions in cases of rape and incest, and looked like a deer in headlights and began voraciously back-pedaling without the assistance of a bottle of water:

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Or the moment when the millionaire candidates tried to out-poor each other:

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The time Mike Huckabee challenged the claim from the movie Hustle and Flow that “it’s hard out here for a pimp” and blamed pimps and prostitutes for social security’s budget problems:

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The moment Ohio Gov. John Kasich used the “I have a gay friend” defense to deflect a question about same sex marriage:

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The entire time Jeb Bush looked like an uncomfortable, sad man:

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How about the fantastic Facebook questions?!?:

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Or when Rand Paul challenged Trump’s “hair” to a fight:

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When Trump asked the moderators if he could have one minute to squeeze out a fart:

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Or when Ted Cruz broke into song:

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Breathtaking, really. And we still have over a year until the general election!

Oh boy…the dry heaves are starting again.

Fifty Shades of Trailer Trash

Hold onto your butt plugs, everybody!!

Or insert them. Should we insert them? I think so. I think that’s appropriate.

Tomorrow is the day we get to see the downfall of inspiration and creativity  Fifty Shades of Grey movie trailer!!

This is apparently a big deal, so much so that Beyonce released a trailer for the trailer a few days ago.

My husband showed it to me yesterday because he clearly hates me.

I think I might be suffering from PTSD from my time reading and recrapping the trilogy. That could explain why I tried to remove my eyeballs with a melon baller upon viewing the teaser trailer and I don’t even own a melon baller. I was really using a shoehorn.

The teaser trailer is. . . what is the word I’m looking for. . . oh yes, a giant stinking turdpile (I realize that is more than one word).

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s clear the movie will be as if Show Girls and Battlefield Earth mated and had a love child that was raised by one of those stupid water-fearing aliens from Signs and then went on to be a pink lady in Grease 2. What I’m attempting to say is that this movie will suck with the force of a 1,000 master series intake anal suction cups.

Don’t just take my word for it. I showed the teaser trailer to my two leads.

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The trailer is premiering on the Today show and the anchors will be dressing up as characters. Matt Lauer will portray a butt plug, which means he will basically be himself. They then will continue on with the other real news of the day, mainly on expose on which Buzzfeed quiz are you most like.

News.

Hugo insisted we make our own trailer after I jokingly said I could make a better one if I inserted an iTouch up my bunghole.

Those things are painful.

 

Breaking Sex News

I really have to thank Alice for the generation of this post, the 20th in this santorum festival known as NaBloWriMo.

If you are a regular reader, you know I cobbled together a post on unfinished posts that languish in my WordPress draft folder because the ideas…yup, the ideas are dead. I didn’t think there was more to Breaking Sex News than the weird Breaking Sex News banner on The Huffington Post on Swedes yanking it in public.  I even tried to find more, but could only find this:

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That is fucking incredible, but where is the breaking sex news!?! Then Alice reminded me of the go-to source for all breaking sex news–Cosmopolitan magazine.

For instance, did you know, gentle reader, that there is such a thing as “celebrity side butt”?

How marvelous! And newsy.

So what is Celebrity Side Butt? the masses desperately want to know.

It is incredibly scientific. “Side Butt” occurs when a celebrity is sans underwear and wears a dress that proves that theory. For example,  a² – b² = partial ass.

Cosmo includes a photoessay of our most famous examples of that theorem in action.

sidebuttBut what if I’m not a Celebrity Side Butt, but am looking for ways to sexify my relationship? is likely what you’re thinking right now.

Well, I have the hot scoop–there are 75 crazy-hot sex moves that can sexify pretty much anything from the secret Santa office party to your Aunt Bertha’s wake.

You may be under the assumption that sex is where that thing goes into that slot and then retreats and then goes back and then there’s a charley horse and then there’s the looking at the clock because Grey’s Anatomy is going to be on any second and then there’s the quick prayer to god about somebody finishing and then someone groans and now you can finally have some peace and watch TV.

Well there’s more, gentle reader, 75 more things to be exact.

For instance, you can “straddle your guy, then lean forward and rest your upper body on his torso. Bring one leg out to the side, and bend it so that the inside of your leg is against the bed. Then straighten the other leg and slide it between his legs” and if you can explain to me how this exactly works because of my spatial difficulties and inability to understand poor writing, I will be grateful…and hot.

You could also: “try side-saddle position for a more unique and snug fit. Make a bridge with your arms behind you on one side of him and your legs in front of you on the other.” I’m thinking the author of this just began consulting her “Odyssey of the Mind” handout from 6th grade. Herman Melville’s Moby Dick is a literary masterpiece. Create Ishmael’s boat only using the parts from a vacuum cleaner. Now make it sexy.

Or you could: “build momentum by keying in to an ocean legend that the seventh in a series of sea waves is the strongest” because clearly the author has started to lose her erection at the 25th crazy-hot sex move and has no clue what the fuck to write. Why not add something like “Goldilocks the moment by making his dick too hot, then too cold and then just right. First pour molten steel on his member, followed by Coleman’s Chiller and then warm it up with a hair dryer.”

Or if you’re tired just “trade butt-cheek massages” and extra bonus if it is a celebrity side butt.

News.

Breaking sex news for that matter.

For fuck’s sake, are there seriously 10 days left? Fuck. Anyway, Speaker7 is writing every day this month as a member of the Nano Poblano Team. 

Fifty Shades of Movie Magic

I was delighted when I saw the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly:

ewcoverFinally, the first of many issues heralding the arrival of this movie. Being a big fan of the books, I tore through the magazine pages, reading voraciously and savoring every morsel I could.

I understand it will be difficult to condense E.L. James 600-paged behemoth down to a two-hour film. Will they cut out one of the 1,200 email exchanges? Or one of the 4,507 times Christian orders Ana to eat? Or one of the 35,678 times Christian remarks on Ana’s wetness.

God, I hope not.

In the magazine, the stars were interviewed about their thoughts on the film.

fiftyshadesactorsFor the uninitiated, Fifty Shades of Grey is a steamy trilogy about a virginal sockpuppet who falls in love with a controlling oil-retention enema. They murmur and stick things in holes. It’s awesome or–to use Virginia of Lame Adventures, new word for “awesome”– semi-flaccid.

Semi-flaccidly enough, my copy of Entertainment Weekly happened to include a few pages of the script. I first inserted a butt plug into my ear canal to further cement the brain damage I underwent from reading the books and began to read.

Oh my, gentle reader, oh my.

Prepare to be shaded by some grey, whatever the fuck that means.

First Scene:

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Ana and Christian’s first meeting

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Ana and Christian’s Interaction at Claytons Hardware

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I give this film two thumbs up the butt!

Speaker7’s inner goddess is responsible for this post even though her inner goddess is not a member of the Nano Poblano Team. 

Love is Dead

I don’t know if you heard, but child bride Courtney Stodden and Doug Hutchinson broke up.

djfkajgkalfjda;lfjas;fjas;fjds;afj

See? I can’t even write I’m so upset. . . and that’s not because I’m having difficulty coming up with things to write about.

When that 50+ actor, best known for playing a liver-eating serial killer on the X-Files, married that 16-year-old, best known for humping Santa Claus and pumpkins, it seemed they would be the “celebrity” couple who would defy the odds and make it.

Alas, Courtney called it quits when her bizarre behavior in public with Doug did not warrant enough attention to earn her a reality show because she wanted to explore her independence.

Get ready for a bizarro inappropriate flag photoshoot.

Wait, that already happened.

independentcourtneyIf you don’t mind, I’d like to take a walk down memory lane and remember the golden times of Dourntey Stutchinden:

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Their beautiful Las Vegas Wedding

The time they humped in a pumpkin patch.

The time they humped in a pumpkin patch.

The time they ruined Christmas.

The time they ruined Christmas.

The time they ruined Halloween.

The time they ruined Halloween.

The time they ruined the ocean.

The time they ruined the ocean.

The time they ruined eating.

The time they ruined eating.

Love is dead, people.

Speaker7 was spreadeagled on a car typing this with her boobs. It was very “sexy” which is a word that no longer has any meaning thanks to Dourtney Stutchinden.

Yahoo! Shit

Because I am a lady living a lady’s lifestyle with my lady brain, I read Yahoo! Shine religiously.*

For the uninitiated, Yahoo Shine is an especially shiny part of Yahoo that shines the light on the stuff that womenfolk care about like fat cells and man-trapping.

Before I began reading, I thought the key to trapping a man was stuffing him in the folds of my fat, but Yahoo! Shine pointed me in the right direction.

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In the Yahoo! Shine world, life is like an episode of According to Jim combined with a Cathy comic strip. It’s that good.**

For instance did you know that there are seven questions every guy wishes you’d ask him? Seriously. Every fucking guy in the whole world, and that includes the Ayatollah Khomeini, Ryan Seacrest and Hitler’s corpse. So do the guys a favor, ladies, and ask them these questions today.

1. Question 1

The first one has to do with our weight because that is a complex that is ingrained in   every gal’s DNA. I distinctly remember at three months telling my mom to cool it on the formula because I was getting a serious case of thunder thighs.

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Now gals instead of asking “Societal expectations of women’s bodies were created by a fucking crazy person so therefore I’m asking this question because this has been beaten into my head with a claw hammer, and that’s why I’m planking by the dinner table rather than eating so to make a long story short….do I look fat?” you should ask “Sweetie, what do I look best in?” This is obviously your guy’s decision because you need to concentrate on reducing your vaginal fat.

2. Oh my god fellas, don’t them ladies like to yammer after you’ve done stuck your Excalibur in them? Just talk talk talk talk talk…wouldn’t it be great if they would just act like the objects they are and shut the fuck up? So basically the question EVERY guy, including Papa Smurf, wants to hear is “Do you mind if we just lie here and not talk?”

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3. Every guy loves sports. Every goddamn one. If your guy doesn’t than he must immediately turn in his guy card and become a woman or a shrub, it’s his pick because the third question every guy–and I mean every guy even Bashar al-Assad–wants to hear is “I have some tickets to some sporting event where guys bash into one another so hard they get concussions that later lead to lasting brain damage, do you want to go?”

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4. Ladies, for god’s sakes, I hope you are not even thinking about expressing your interests because that is about as enticing as genital freezer burn. The menfolk and I mean every manfolk including the Dalai Lama wants you to ask “Oooh I’m into only your shit and because you’re a guy it’s either a movie with explosions or a movie with boobs or a movie with exploding boobs so do you want to see that Katy Perry documentary?”

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7. I think we’re at question 7 because I am female after all and do not know math. So this one has all to do with the one with the vagina leaving with all the rugrats that came out of said vagina and the man free to do his man things in his man cave like measure his penis and discover fire. The question is something like “Hey can I pack up the kids and leave and you can reenact some Fatal Attraction fantasy only without the boiled rabbit?”

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Knowledge!

*This is only true when I’m participating in NaBloWriMo and run out of things to write about after day 2.

**At this point, after writing for seven consecutive days in a row, I no longer know what words mean. “Good” means “shit sandwich”, right?

Even though she knows this is a turn-off, Speaker7 wants to know if she looks fat while writing this post. Speaker7 is writing daily during this month as part of the Nano Poblano team.

The News That Nearly Stopped the Internet

Stop the muther-fucking Internet, people! I’ve got a BIG announcement…

Wait, how do you stop this thing? Is there a button somewhere…no that’s just brightens the screen…maybe this one? ª No, it just makes a tiny floating “a”….okay, I don’t know how to do it. The fact that I can’t stop the Internet in no way diminishes this AMAZING breaking news:

Noted Elvis Presley impersonator and part-time manwhore Rob Schneider has changed his political affiliation from Democrat to Republican.

I’m just going to give you a moment to let that sink in…and to google who Rob Schneider is.

Big news, amirite?

It’s almost as big as that time Fred Sampson said he wasn’t going to shovel the curbcut in front of his house if the plows were just going to pile big mounds of snow there.

It’s nearly as monumental as that time Ginny Smith was asked “How was your weekend?” by Amy Nedrow and answered “Kind of sucky” rather than the requisite “Fine, how was yours?

And it’s practically on par with that time that bear shit in the woods that one day.

Schneider blames the California Democrats for killing the creative spirit that could have made Deuce Bigalow: Beating a Dead Horse With Another Dead Horse a reality.

robsreasonsThe Democratic Party “no longer serves the people of this great state,” opines Schneider. “When the sitcom Rob was canceled, it was like a seagull was suffocated by the great big donkey that rules with its iron hoof.”

He also had to move his “vitamin company” out of the state due to state regulations that demand vitamins actually contain more than sawdust and lost hope.

That logic is as solid as the plot of Hot Chick. 

Instead, Schneider is throwing his slight build behind California Assemblyman Tim Donnelly’s bid for governor. Donnelly is a leader of the California Minutemen, and once attempted to erect a fence on the California-Mexican border.

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A Farewell to Penis

I’ve been having difficulty writing lately, and now I’ve finally figured out why:

I possess a vagina.

It gets in the way of everything. When I’m attempting to squeeze a big thought out of my tiny woman brain, my vagina interrupts the process with demands for chocolate. When I attempt to hold a pen using my weakly woman arms, my vagina shrieks about being too fat. When I try to write a post on Speaker7, my vagina threatens to set itself on fire.

It’s no wonder the ladies get paid less, amirte fellas. Up top.

David Gilmour gets it. He sees no value in teaching the drivel excreted by ladybits in his Big Dick Writers 101 seminar.

“Women be stupid,” Gilmour laments.

That’s a slight paraphrase. What he actually said was much worse:

“I say I don’t love women writers enough to teach them, if you want women writers go down the hall. What I teach is guys. Serious heterosexual guys. F. Scott Fitzgerald, Chekhov, Tolstoy. Real guy-guys. Henry Miller. Philip Roth,” Gilmour huffs whilst sticking his enormous plumbing into the biggest glory hole one has ever seen.

doucheI should probably amend the paraphrase to add women and gays be stupid, but Gilmour is likely the type of specimen to think the terms interchangable.

Gilmour is able to stop masturbating over his copy of Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer to give props to lady mouthpiece Virginia Woolf, stating “she made a mean bundt cake.” (slight paraphrasing)

O Captain! My Captain! …Shit! I’m trying to stand on a desk to salute this brilliant professor, but I’ve got my period and whole slew of laundry that needs a-washing.

By the way, what the blazing fuck is a woman writer anyway?

I’m answering my own question:

One who writes with her vagina.

This profile in misogyny made me harken back to my days of playing drums in a rock band that no one–apart from my parents and that guy at the bar–ever heard. I can’t tell you how many times I heard:

You’re one of the best female drummers.

I don’t know. . . is that a thing? Did male drummers have some sort of advantage by being able to use their penis to bang on the floor tom?

All great questions, but too taxing for my smaller, less interesting brain.

My vagina’s tired of writing anyways and is angrily demanding chocolate.