Nugget Time

 

After meals, my hat conveniently doubles as a portable toilet, then immediately resumes functions as a hat again.

After meals, my hat conveniently doubles as a portable toilet, then immediately resumes functions as a hat again. Contents included.

 

I don’t have my Chef’s hat on because I’ve lost my mind and bought a Halloween costume, I have it on because I’ve lost my mind and decided to prepare a feast of my mouth-watering Wisdom Nuggets.  Today’s menu is:

 

Don’t Test Me – What in the name of everlasting fuck is the possible reason for those cocksuckin emergency broadcast system tests?  While I was DVR’ing the Nixon tapes documentary a while back, which is fuckin fascinating by the way, suddenly the air was painfully split by that familiar ear-numbing ringing noise and I missed recording an assload of precious info.  Then I missed even more info screaming at the television for ten minutes.  I don’t even remember the emergency broadcast system ever actually being used during my lifetime, from Hurricane Bob, to 9/11, to the Pats signing Tim Tebow.  When are they waiting to actually use the fuckin thing, the Zombie Apocolypse?  Testing that worthless piss doesn’t make anybody any safer, all it does is fuck up TV shows for insomniacs.

 

Broad’s Cast – Few things are more unnecessary or annoying that bimbos with literally zero sports knowledge or background seem to pollute just about every sports show and live game on the airwaves.  For every one or two ladies with any credentials, there’s about a thosand who should be busy doing laundry.  I understand the idea that tossing a pretty face on TV during sports shows might have been mandatory twenty years ago, but it’s so outdated in today’s day and age.  In a time where I can hop online and watch a woman blowing a horse in ten seconds flat, is some skirt and a pair of high heels really supposed to make me do a double take?  What am I twelve years old?  It says something when the only sideline reporter that isn’t an embarassment is Mr. Poopy Pants himself, Tony Sira-deuce-a.  Those other leggy airheads should be on the unemployment line, while the blondes should be on Fox News.

 

Not Playin Again, Sam – It seems the first NFL player to publicize his anal exploits Michael Sam had to scram after he was cut from a second team’s practice squad this week.  But his booty hole obsession ironically doesn’t mean shit to me if he can help New England’s decimated defense.  With all their injuries, I say the Gaytriots should at least take a look at the big fruity bastard.  Who cares if he’s gay so long as he can play.  That’s why it’s so stupid to hear the Gay Mafia’s murmered allegations of the NFL’s homophobia.  The man’s ability to make it in the league isn’t based on his sexual orientation; there’s a difference between loving black balls and being blackballed.  Meanwhile when asked for his reaction, Sam described his release as, “Tough to swallow, which is a new feeling for me.”

 

 

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