Tag Archives: humor

So I’m starting a new trend — the Spicer Selfie Challenge.

Let’s take this viral.

Just take a selfie hiding in the bushes.

And try to look reeeeeeeeaally pissed — as though your boss had the mind of a five-year-old, and it was your job to present his “positions” to the world on television.

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“Turning and turning in the widening gyre,/ Sean Spicer cannot find the teleprompter …”

“Turning and turning in the widening gyre,
Sean Spicer cannot find the teleprompter;
Things fall apart; the White House cannot hold;
Pure incompetence is loosed upon the world,
The bungling tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of sanity is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the amateurs
Are full of Trumpian intensity.”

— William Butler Jørgen (Jørgen Laursen)

 

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(They’re generally more congenial anyway.)

When I want an intelligent answer on a national security question, do I trust Sean Spicer?

I’d rather trust the Spice Girls.

 

WALKER LANE.

A friend of mine lives on this street in Salem, Virginia.

She says the rents are dirt cheap, but it sucks having to keep the windows boarded up to keep the zombies out.

Can you imagine if the cross street was named “Grimes Avenue?”  That would be F%*#ing EPIC.

 

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Seriously, why hasn’t Hollywood hired me yet?

Gonna write a screenplay in which a man sells his soul to the devil to win every street race he enters.

Gonna call it “The Faust and the Furious.”

Starring Sin Diesel.

 

 

“I don’t want to wait / For our lives to be over …”

No matter how many letters I write to Hollywood, I’m still waiting on that “Wolf Creek”/”Dawson’s Creek” crossover movie.

I’m starting to worry it might not happen.

 

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I’ve never seen a goddam apex predator want to snuggle so much.

This dog’s gas is suffocating.

And that makes sense. Because it’s so damned big you could park a hybrid car in its colon.

 

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There should be a new drink called “The Donald Trump Presidency.”

There should be a new drink called “The Donald Trump Presidency.”  Any cheap Russian vodka will do, but the secret ingredient is that it needs to be bought illegally over the Internet.

Pour it in a “yuge” glass, stir it up like misguided populism, and insist that it’s “GREAT,” even if tastes like piss.  Then drink it until you’re a racist braggart and an imbecile who can’t form coherent sentences — or at least until you make sexually suggestive remarks about your own daughter.

It might taste like a bitter pill to a majority of Americans, but certain Republicans will cheerfully swallow it down like a fake news story.  The only danger is to Republican partygoers is that they might grow so belligerent that they fight amongst themselves, dividing their party.

 

 

Photo credit:  By © Achim Raschka / Wikimedia Commons / CC-BY-SA-3.0, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=26371496

[Cue the theme song]

I want a crossover between “Hellraiser” and “Sanford and Son” entitled “The Lamont Configuration.”

WHO’S WITH ME?

Thanks to Mean Meme-Makin’ Blog Correspondent Pete Harrison for the pic.

 

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Vote … Neptune, I guess?

Donald Trump is basically the planet Jupiter — a bright orange, cold, gassy giant.

 

(I worked hard on this joke. Because science and stuff. Somebody please do better than the Hillary-is-Uranus rebuttal we’re all expecting.)

 

[UPDATE From author Jeremy Ghea: “Bernie is Pluto. Everybody loves Pluto and the ruling body tried to deny him.”  😀 ]