Three-Piece Moot


That’s either Derek Jeter or a gay magician trying to hypnotize someone.


Trolling cunts are being unnecessarily shunned, asinine holidays are being unnecessarily celebrated, and overrated schmucks are being unnecessarily remembered.  What is quite necessary however is some projectile Spew flying in their direction:


Ban Coulter – Like any sane person I don’t keep up on any of the exploitative pointlessness of Ann Cunter, but I saw recently that she was banned from blithering her foolishness at the feminazi factory known as UC-Berkley due to supposed security risks.  Are these everyone-gets-a-trophy pussies serious?  Even Ann Coulter could whup the average Millenial.  Instead of letting Coulter cacaw, this self-touted institutional bastion of free speech graciously offered to change the date and time but Ann said fuck that.  Instead she’d speak on the same date and time at a different, but close by, venue instead.  Good for fuckin her.  Although now that I’m in the middle of defending Skeletor’s daughter it feels like Birazzo World, the Ground Zero for liberal fagdom has undoubtedly been crowned.  Congratulations UC-Berkley, and by extension the extreme Left, you’re universal hateability by sensible folks is one crucial reason why Trump can pretend he got elected.


Girth Day or Feaster Sunday – I know I wasn’t the only one getting a little misty-eyed on the lord’s day, the twenty eighth of May, when yet another glorious International Hamburger Day was upon us—not that bastardized piece-of-shit North American Hamburger Day, which is ironically a rather “tasteless” version of the original.  Long-renowned as one of the few global holidays, for some reason International Hamburger Day continues to be ignored by rogue troublemaker countries like Rwanda, Haiti, and Cambodia however.  The finicky pricks.  Perhaps a steady diet of explosions would be more to their liking.  Of course, because they are celebrated in order of importance, International Hamburger Day comes the day before one of the lesser holidays known as Memorial Day.  Honestly, who wants to “Waah” about a buncha stupid dead soldiers when you can be chowing down on a quarter pounder?  This year’s celebration was extra special too.  Near the end of the festivities, when I was about to annihilate approximately my ninetieth burger of the day, I noticed with shock and revulsion that it had been tainted by vile cheese of all preposterous things.  “Oh, what the fuck,” I said displaying my trademark patience.  I was about to call Poison Control to dispose of the biohazard when a fellow Burger Brother pointed out, “Hey, you could just scrape the cheese off.”  I’ll be damned.  It must’ve been one of those International Hamburger Day miracles I’ve heard so much about.


Dropping Deuces – I thought we were done with this douchebag.  Consumed with things I actually care one iota about, I saw a blurb about Golden Glove thief Derek Jeter having his number retired by the Evil Emprie last month, and promptly went back to not giving a fuck.  Besides it being a fitting number to remember him by because he’s a piece of shit, I don’t really see what all the fuss is about.  Haven’t the Fagees retired like a thousand numbers by now?  What’s one more single digit?  The overrated hunk of slop of indeterminate race (he was a halfsy before being a halfsy was cool) has only one outstanding career achievement: somehow managing to remain bop-free in the steroid era, although he undoubtedly did them.  Adding to his fagacy, Jeter insisted his number retirement ceremony be held on Mother’s Day.  When asked for comment about her son’s career, Mrs. Jeter was unusually candid, “He was okay I guess, but he was no Nomar Garciaparra.”  Indeed.

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