It’s the end of the world! Oh sweet Jesus who up until this very moment when you might actually be of some use to me, I have heretofore ignored and denied, IT’S THE END OF THE MONKEY FIGHTING WORLD!
Don’t believe me?! Well fuck you! ‘Cause it’s real Jack! You’re dead! I’m dead! We’re all fuckin’ dead and we don’t even know it! But I do! I know it! You don’t, but I do! I know it! I know it and now you know it! So fuckin’ disregard the first part of this statement! Because now you know it JACK! WE’RE FUCKIN’ DEAD!
Alright… Okay… Alright… Breathe… Deep breath. New pants. Liquor. More liquor. More pants. Alright.
I can’t stop crying. And I’m not sure if it’s from fear or joy. Or foy… or, jear… But the end of days is at hand people. Oh yeah, call me a lunatic, as I have called many others in the past. It’s easy, just look: “I’m a fucking nut job crazy person who’s blind faith in the unseeable is as sad as it is moronic. Someone should put this pathetic excuse for me out of my misery, if just so that I don’t get to see the coming end of the world that I’m waiting for.” See, just that easy, I’ve belittled and discredited myself in one swift movement… Wow, I’m kind of a dick…
But you may be wondering why I’m now so convinced that the end is here and now. Why, after so often calling fans of the smiting lord blithering nut candy, I am now so certain that I’m going to be paying for my heresy unless I start sucking the blithering nut candy of those who can put in a good word with king nut candy… Who I should probably start referring to as my personal lord and savior, because continuing to call him hurtful names is probably doing very little to help my standing.
Well I’ll tell you why. THIS SHIT IS WHY!
Lake turned to blood. That’s some OT (Old Testament) shit right there son! That’s vengeful, child killing, world flooding, here’s my delicious fruit that you can live around but better not even think of enjoying, mountain top thou-shalt-not shit right there! And this is in Texas, where God is only slightly less worshiped than High School football, so this is some serious business!
Now sure, you can try to use some godless sciencey “facts” and “non-freaking out rational thought” to explain this lake suddenly and miraculously turning to blood. You can SAY that it’s more likely the result of Chromatiacea bacteria thriving in oxygen-deprived water that is killing the fish of this almost dried up stagnant, drought ravaged reservoir giving it the delicious, thick hearty blood like tint. But that’s exactly what a godless heathen like you WOULD say if you weren’t so damned busy killing babies and drinking their juices at your gay orgy weddings for communists!
But you know what, since I’m now a warrior of Christ, ready and waiting to be raised from this damned place to my rightful station in the mutha fuckin’ CLOUDS, I can take your flimsy argument and just Goddize it up any damned way! Droughts? This is the result of droughts? Well, what exactly is a drought, except a reverse flood? And who’s literature’s biggest flood lover? MY SKY MONSTER!– NO! Not… Not sky monster. What’s the other thing, the– OH! My God… person. Lord? Something… And a bunch of dead fish? That’s some kind of tragedy? Fish are a bunch of lazy freeloaders just swimmin’ back and forth over our borders drinkin’ their own poop. Build the dang water fence!
And speaking of the reportedly “Good” book which I fully intend on reading as soon as I get the chance; this is all in there, warning us from Heavenland that this day would come. Indiana preacher Paul Begley went to the YouTubes to tell the world about it.
“The second angel poured out his bowl on the sea, and it turned into blood like that of a dead person, and every living thing in the sea died,” my new best friend Mr. Preacher Pastor Begley Poperson said. “The third angel poured out his bowl on the rivers and springs of water, and they became blood.”
IT’S RIGHT THERE! The order doesn’t matter, I seem to recall making up something about Jesus or one of the others saying something about “The first being the last and the third being the first.” or some such nonsensical, contradictory shit used specifically to help my narrative! Bowls are being poured people, and that’s the important part. Blood bowls. Angels, with bowls filled with blood, are pouring them into our reservoirs and killing our fish! And if that ain’t 100% scripture proof, then I don’t know what the fuck is… But that’s probably just because I don’t know what the fuck is.
So this is it folks, it’s fer rillzies this time. End of the world time. Unless it isn’t, in which case next time will absolutely be it. You see, God knows it’s not the eternity of gnashing and wailing that will be the true torment for the nonbelievers and sinners of the world: it’s the anticipation that really gets ’em…
Hail whom ever is willing to accept me into which ever afterlife is true!
There are so many unknowns in this world. So many things that live with us every day, unseen, thought lost or having not even yet been discovered by man. The great mysteries of the world we live in intrigue us every day, push explorers toward the outer reaches of our understanding and beyond. What is it about these great, elusive creatures that sparks the imagination, drives the soul and compels us to shoot them in the fucking face?
El Chupacabra is dead, long live El Chupacabra.
And they’re coming for you next Nessie.
In Texas, where the law as I understand it is that you can shoot anyone or anything at any time for any reason, and that the only gun crime that you can be punished for is shooting one gun with another gun; a thirteen year old kid murdered the Legendary Chupacabra.
“Something slowly came across and started shaking, slowly moving across,” 13 year old Cryptozooassassin Carter Pope said when questioned about his grisly, thoughtless slaying. “It was gray, no hair at all. I thought that’s a Chupacabra.”
And reading that description, what else could it have been? Slow moving? Checkacabra. Shakey? Chupacheckra. Gray and hairless? Checkacheckra! That could only be the fabled El Chupacabra! Or a retired space alien, or any of our great grand parents. Or a Chupacabra, what am I saying? Of course, a Chupacabra, that’s exactly as I remember hearing them described. Slow moving and easily shootable. Almost too easily. 84% of bullets manufactured wind up in Chupacabras. If you own a gun, chances are it’s shot a Chupacabra already.
Not satisfied with simply murdering a sickly animal in his yard and declaring it “dead Chupacabra” before building a roadside shack where he could charge gawkers a nickel a peek, the report said that Carter “took hair and skin samples to get tested and put an end to the mystery once and for all.” Smart, because it’s one thing to just paint a sign with adorable backwards Rs on it and wait for the rabble to straggle on in, while it’s another thing entirely to have a certificate of authenticity nailed to your gut shot goat drainer to really add some credibility to your be-tented attraction.
But why stop at one shakey, elderly myth beast? Apparently the “Deadliest Catch” guys have set their sights on a catch of even more deadliesterness: The Loch Ness Monster… of Alaska… Or something.
Two of the “stars” of the Discovery Channel’s bafflingly uncanceled television program “Deadliest Catch”; Fisherman Joe and Dan the Crab Murderer… Or something… Apparently have footage dating back to 2009 that may prove the existence of an “Alaskan Loch Ness Monster”!
Now excusing that Mr. Monster’s first and middle names are not Loch and Ness but are instead a reference to the physical place in which it is most commonly known to reside, AND that he REALLY doesn’t like the negative connotations associated to the term “monster”, how about we come to a conclusion as to whether it is in fact the one and the same Nessie simply flitting about on an Alaskan vacation, or just some other upstart sea monster flashing it’s proverbial celebrity vadge at sea paparazzi for the TMZ of educational programming, the Discovery Channel, to parade around their air waves.
Crab genocidist Andy Hillstrand will be debuting this new footage on his creatively named “Hillstranded” special on the Discovery Channel. And just having put together that sentence, describing the upcoming airing of a SECOND television show starring this fisherist has broken my soul and gang raped my very will to live.
Honestly, how can I possibly be expected to keep my focus on the fact that today’s news is just jam packed to the rafters with the wanton execution and harassment of this planet’s most imaginary animals when I’m forced to confront the reality that a man who fishes, has two more television shows than I do. I’m so angry I could strangle to death something that doesn’t even exist! My anger is so rich and pure that my mind could conjure up a creature from nothingness, breathe life into it against all of the laws of the universe, solely so that I could vent upon it my righteous frustrations with the inherent unfairness of a guy who tricks sea insects into a cage being given not just one television show, which in and of itself is the kind of perverse joke that television producers dare other producers to pitch to nature channels, but the unmitigated gall of the universe to allow this sea faring ass a second avenue to more completely share his every fisherman eye on life with the shut ins and buried alive hoarders who have yet to be discovered for their own Learning Channel series; that make up the entirety of his viewing audience…
… Just bugs me is all…
Now what was I saying? Oh, right — RUN NESSIE! THE CAMERAS ARE COMING FROM INSIDE THE OCEAN!
I’m going to go cry now, for me, for you and for all the make believe creatures being hunted into pretend extinction. Big Foot, Abominable: watch your furry asses.
It’s no secret that Van Full of Candy is a supporter of hot teachers. It’s a brave, bold stance that we have long taken when ever a poor, misunderstood educator is arrested for doing things that we wish had been done to us in school. Of course we couldn’t possibly defend EVERY apple polishing head mistress every time we heard about another one getting carted away. That would become a full time job, a naughty, dirty, naughty, sexy, naughty full time job. Don’t get us wrong now, we fully understand that people being charged with the task of learnin’ yer kids should not be engaging in the befouling of the under aged. That’s wrong in almost every state, and to varying degrees depending on posted age limits in the other blue, orange and green shaded globe blobs that we are told are “other countries”. Which is why today’s attack on sexy teachers has us in such a tizzy.
Brittni Nicole Colleps is a small town Texas girl, a first year English teacher and coach of the Freshman girls’ basketball team– Hey! No silly, pull those pants back up, I didn’t just read that out of a letter to Penthouse, this is fer realzies. Not to imply that Penthouse letters’ authenticity should ever be questioned, I’m not saying that. Each and ever account of steamy escapades reported in that fine publication of note is rigorously fact checked by hand. That is my guarantee to you, the reader.
So Mrs. Colleps teaches Englishes and Basketballery at Kennedale High, a suburban North Texas school near Arlington. She is a mother of three and is married to a no doubt very brave fighting man serving over seas. And when she’s not stressing verb conjugation or an ankle crackin’ cross over, she likes to have as many students as she can count on one hand over for a nice, fun and informative “after school special”. Now before you get all indignant and finger pointy at us and our condoning of this horrible crime against children, let me tell YOU a little something. Each of these five students with which Mrs. Colleps is alleged to have simultaneously banged were all 18 years of age. So there, don’t you feel silly for assuming the worst in this story of teacher student group sexcapades!
So then the natural question is, “Crime wha huh?” That’s certainly what came to MY mind somewhere deep in the list of things that came to mind when first hearing about this story. Usually it goes without saying that a teacher/student romance is bound to somehow involve underagedy. But it seems that proper carding was done in this case and no harm no foul, you’re free to go Mrs. Colleps, we’ll just keep these texted pictures and the camera phone video footage we found on one of the boy’s pocket telephonic devices, you know, for safe keeping and we apologize for any misunderstanding. There was no crime committed here. This was simply good natured hi-jinx between six consenting adults. This is only a crime because the law says it’s a crime. Which I guess makes it a crime…
It seems in Texas, as well as probably a few other places that I’m too lazy to research, even if your students are all sumptuous and otherwise legal in the eyes of god and whom ever, if you’re teaching them either the fundamentals of the English language or of a sound bounce pass, you are not allowed to also guide them in the ways of love and the making thereof. So while I’m sure Mrs. Colleps thought she had all her bases covered, making extra special sure that all of her starting lineup of hot senior studs was all of legal humping age so as not to run into any potential snags that might result in her soldier husband or their three offspring learning of her need for a pentagon of dong, unfortunately Texas forbids teachers from taking home school supplies.
But let’s be fair to the lovely Mrs. Colleps, she’s teaching in a school in Kennedale, a town of 7300. The school itself has a sexy, orgy worthy student body of 3200. She’s new in a town where almost 40% of the population goes to where she works and her husband is off selfishly fighting in some kind of war or another. She has needs, she apparently has LOTS of needs. What is this poor woman supposed to do!?
Sadly, it seems that this love story ends as most do, in jealousy. You see, when you exchange dirty text messages and swap digital photography of your genitalia with another individual, you expect that you have a special connection with those genitals. That’s what Mrs. Colleps’ first boy seemed to believe. After what history books would no doubt declare the most romantic courtship in the history of recorded time, Mrs. Colleps allegedly invited her young, BUT NOT TOO YOUNG, suitor to her home where they got to see first hand, what the small screens of their phones had only hinted at. They made love, mad, passionate love, which in another text Brittni (I feel she would want me to call her Brittni, even if I hate that she spells it with an “i” at the end which, for an English teacher I feel hurts her credibility just a little) said they “had fun” and invited him back for another round of hide the ruler. But when her one and only shower up this time, he found that he was going to be waiting in line and apparently that hurt his little feelings. So rather than sharing, which all of us should have learned at some point in our lives, this sobbing little baby had to ruin it for everybody!
I feel like at this point I need to reiterate that I am in no way condoning anyone’s actions in this act of love, I am merely discondoning the selfish actions of one individual. And now this caring, GIVING, young lady is being charged with five counts of having an inappropriate relationship between a student and teacher, a second degree felony and is facing between two to twenty years per count! Is this really a punishment befitting this “crime”. Especially when this supposed crime is, in the opinion of this non-lawyer, fucking bullshit. The only crime here is loving too much, and if that’s a crime then you can lock me up in a cell with Mrs. Colleps, a camera phone and four of our best friends who have a better working understanding of what a good thing they’ve got and we can be criminals together.
The defense rests, in between sessions of committing more of these heinous “crimes”!