At this point what else can we call these types of emails?
“This day is just bonkers. Everyone at lunch was complaining about the War on the Recession and the AIDS crisis in North Dakota and the President’s taco addiction again, and I’d just had enough. I stripped off my pants, pulled my dick out and put it in my mashed potatoes. “Serves ’em right!” I yelled, not knowing who I was yelling about exactly. But here’s why I didn’t get fired: I had my fingers crossed behind my back. BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Works every time. And guess who I saw eating the leftover mashed potatoes later? Yep! The office dog Franklin.”
Sure it wasn't the office turtle?
One text at a time…
“What’s in my fridge right now? Beer, bacon, and American cheese, that’s what. Because I care.”
Let’s play ball…
“You best be watching the most American thing ever right now– college basketball on a FUCKING AIRCRAFT CARRIER!!!!!! I can’t think of anything more exciting. Imagine if someone attacks us midgame and the players all have to ship out to battle using their superior athleticism to fight the aliens or Rihanna or whatever that Battleship movie was about (AIDS??). Anyway, get stoned and think about how excited Jesus probably is right now to watch these young men draining the three pointers and doing the dunks and whatnot next to those big-ass guns. God Bless America!”
What's next? People marrying dogs I bet.
“Dude is this the craziest day ever or what? It’s the final night of Anytober at Subway, the McRib is in full effect, it’s Halloween, and a lot of the porn sites will be updating tomorrow with loads of new vids! God Bless America!!!!!!!!”
Land that I loooooooooooooovvvvvvvve...
The things he loves the most:
“I got invited to a “beer tasting party” today. Isn’t every party a fucking “beer tasting party?” But this guy meant like sipping and discussing and not the usual chugging and punching I enjoy. But here’s the problem: Jesus didn’t invent beer for us to talk about it. He invented beer for us to drink it. So the next time some bird-dick in a poncho (ponchos are about to be cool again, PS) tries to tell you about hops and micro-brews and organic wheat, show him the underside of your stink-trap, pound a Bud Heavy in his face and yell “These colors don’t run!!!!” And then try to puke if you’re up for it.”
Anyone know where the “underside of your stink-trap” is?
Also, did he pay for this billboard?