It’s really not funny, but it’s just so dang funny! The lady who put the gender reveal party stupidity on the map has appealed to the population to cut out that nonsense! Oddly enough, gender reveal parties have caused some whopping big wildfires in the southwestern U.S. — California and Arizona mainly.
The wildfire in Arizona in 2017 burned a tidy 46,000 acres before being checked. It was a gender reveal party at which the father backed blue powder — it’s a boy! — into a healthy dose of tannerite and then fired a high-velocity bullet at it. A high-velocity round like an AR-15 is needed to detonate tannerite; a low-velocity one like a .45 ACP will not work.
Laying the explosive package out in the middle of a field of grass known as Southwestern Tinder-ensus was the bane of the father’s performance. When that blast initiated it was like Mrs. O’Leary’s cow double-tapped a pair of lanterns toward the crispy hay there in the barn (words to the effect):
“L..let’ get out of here!!”
That was called the famous Sawmill Fire and the man who started it was liable for eight million dollars in damages. I can imagine his poor son wondering why his dad constantly glared at him with hate his whole life.
The more recent El Dorado fire that burned 8,000 acres in Arizona was also the progeny of a ridiculous and pretentious gender reveal party. Prior to the fire, the couple fired flare-like devices that pumped out a puff of blue or pink powder indicating the gender. Both cretins held their flares backward resulting in the mother shooting herself in the “unborn” and the dip-shit father shooting himself in the Howard Johnson, an event that put him on the ground. Then he tried to pin blame on some other dude claiming that he had handed them the flares backward…
Ladies and gentlemen, I implore you!
What really (REALLY) upsets me is that the moronic couple had their small daughter between them and almost landed a powder shot right in her pretty face! If you think I’m being overly dramatic like a dem-libtard, have a look for yourself at the insane salvo and tell me if I’m overreacting:
And then Jenna Karvunidis sends our her messages to folk trying to recall her efforts of popularizing the party. She even gets a little testy in the process, and I quote:
“Stop having these stupid parties. For the love of God, stop burning things down to tell everyone about your kid’s penis.”
Yeah thanks, Jenna — how about to stop telling everyone to have those stupid parties? She may sound a bit nervous over the notion that in the fine form of the tacky American citizen that someone will try to sue her for advocating the events rather than taking responsibility for their own really retarded behavior:
“Say, you know Bill… it’s 116 degrees out today, dry as a popcorn fart, hasn’t rained since Pelosi last had a period — what say we go outside and have us a Roman Candle war!?!”
Well gosh, darn that Kamala Harris is looking fairly faux pas-ish these days; got a hefty consignment of faux in her pas. Seems she is sucking ass on a third-degree sex offender and his family in WI while dissing two deputies fighting for their lives in her own home state of CA. She took a major excursion to WI to show some love for Jacob Blake — a dude alll about getting him some love from a sistah whether she wanna give it up or not — and praise the parents for gifting the world with such stellar stock as Jake “The Snake” Blake.
Perhaps her comments on the Snake’s rape victim were that she probably deserved it, or should have been giving it up to the Snake for free anyway. But I actually believe, me, that K-Train wasn’t saying she was proud of the Snake for raping a woman: Rather she was proud of him for doing his part to stave off systemic racism in American. Bless his Goddamned heart… he allowed himself to be bullet-riddled in sacrifice by the beast that is the po-po, and all for a greater cause!
If he had departed, he would have his name carved on that granite monument next to Geo Floyd’s. What monument, you ask? It’s the granite one in D.C. where they immortalize junkies and rapists who give their lives graciously for the cause of free rent, cellphones, and the redistribution of reparations wealth from looted department stores — long live their names!
Never ever underestimate the raw, rambunctious, rip-snorting, barely manageable power of FREE $HIT!! As I stretched my head again and again around this great mystery that has descended upon this great nation of ours, the good Lord and the Holy Spirit spoke to me, telling me it’s all about the free $hit, so it is.
Yes, of course… it’s all so clear to me now; a child could see it… a child could see it. I don’t want to work. Me, I just want free $hit. But I don’t even want to go pick up my free $hit; I want it brought to me at my free rent flat. I want my money for nothin’ and my chicks for free. I don’t want to work, I just wanna bang on this-here drum all day. All ANTIFA want new skateboards and knapsacks for free. They want their comeuppance and compensation for all the hours of work they missed at Wendy’s and the Taco Barn while rioting — they want their free $hit, maaan!
I don’t wanna work, I’ll go into homes and steal their stuff and sell it for my herb money. I’ll shoplift, break into cars, and steal them. It’s win/win because if I ever get caught by the pigs I can give it all up and have my name eternalized on that granite-ass mother fucker in D.C. It’s all about the free $hit, that haves and the have nots.
There’s another criminal in this mix that nobody is talking about. I’ll do it; I’ll go ahead and be the turd in the punchbowl and say it: it was criminal of that officer to fire seven rounds… and MISS with almost half of them at a distance of three feet with both hands on his gat. If there is anyone who Camela-toe should be proud of it’s ol’ eagle-eyed worst-day-of-his-life Joe the po-po! Go to the range and practice for Christ’s sake, Joe!
Camela-toe Harris… her gyro has jumped its base and is just spinning willy-nilly across the ground. Her stabilization fins have failed to deploy. Her moral compass is spinning so fast they use it as a fan in a ceramics glazing room. When they said “azimuth,” she thought they said “bismuth” and brought her rock collection. When she takes the “high road” she just blows a glass stem of crack and takes the bus.
I’m mad. When I’m mad I turn to Adobe Photoshop CS6 and get to work. I was mad at Hot Pants Nance Pelosi and we all saw those products. Beginning last night, I have been mad at Camela-Toe and the Snake, so I have a product prepared:
OMG… the chineez!
Whether they are b-bopping around Bei Jing or shuttling through Shang Hai, these local yokels look sik, def, stoopid, and fly in their apparel from Ice-G’s Gung Ho Garment line. No matter should they want to look dope, street, or gangsta as phuq, Ice-G gots something for everyone — all God’s chineez chillin’s gots wangs!
This… shirt… put me about 12 joules away from an aneurism trying to hyper analyze it. Here’s where I went with it, and I had to really deep-dive my chineez language skill for support: “Much Like Hold,” I was on it like a bonnet deducing that it roughly translates to: “I want a hug.”
Then my upside-down frown turned to a… a frown… when I fixed on the “o” in “hold”… WTF is up with the gear icon that generally means “settings” in software applications? I laughed, I cried, I screamed… I couldn’t figure it out. But then a warm feeling of resolution washed over me, and I pulled the gun barrel out of my mouth — were the chineez really worth all my pain and anguish? No, no they weren’t and I finally moved on.
The second shirt is something we in the garment industry call a “God-forsaken mess,” and an otiose farrago of unrelated objects designed to torment the incidental observer. And come to think of it, that is pretty much how I would describe the chineez as well.
Parents, parents, parents… what are we doing here? We HAVE to do better than this. We can’t let our seven-year-old girls go to school with a button in her hair that says “I Love Sex” on it. That is positively a red flag to most of the school faculty and staff. They are trained with… training… to spot things like this and report them to the authorities.
“Good afternoon Mrs. Shablotnick; this is Principal Skinner from your daughter’s school… we’d like to speak with you for a moment about your daughter’s… extra-curricular hobbies.”
Trust me, you don’t want no part of it.
PARENTS, PARENTS, PARENTS!! what in the actual phuq are we doing here?? That shirt does not only guarantee you a call from Principal Skinner, but also a personal house call from the Department of Child Protective Services. Parents don’t send your six-year-olds off to school with no shirt with a downward-facing fawn on it — they are a bad influence! Look what happened to Bambi — Bambi grew up stripping at Tony Soprano’s Badd-Bing club!
There’s really no burning need to get all worked up over a shirt with a skeleton wiping its nose, right? The rest of it is a little annoying, what with the wide open-ended imperative “I want…” Now you should understand that “Beard Your Sexy” is only at fault in that it is missing proper punctuation — a comma after the word “Beard,” and an exclamation point at the end. You see, the word “beard” in chineez is also an exclamatory expression like “wow!” or “hey!” and the like. So: “Beard, you’re sexy!” or “Beard, it is sooo hot out today!” or perhaps: “Beard, are you ever stupid!”
geo’s Classic Art Meme of the Week:
I’m adding another classic art meme because I just like this other one so much and because Rep readers rock:
This Weeks Adobe Photoshop Virtuoso from Jamie:
geo’s Weekly Punny Memes:
Meh! — Couple for Just for the Heck of it:
“Do everything you ask of those you command.” (General George S. Patton Jr.)
By Almighty God and with honor,