Judge Jesus

I'm currently obsessed with this video:



lol! She just bolts under that fuckin desk midsentence son! Like some Al Cowlings shit!

Well, the defendant was somehow able to obtain your pin number and subsequently PEACE NIGGAS i'm out!

And she jumps into her little escape pod and is just FUCK yall niggas I gots mine!

I like to envision what would happen if one of the commoners tried to sneak down into that escape pod with her - she's all bitin their arms and shit - MINE nigga MINE getcha own shelta nigga this MINE!

At first I was only wishing that we were able to see Newsman react to such a scenario - just because everything is so much funnier with black people; but I've come to the realization that the video as it stands is just a perfect work of art – in fact, I think it's the single most important video for us to view and keep in the back of our minds at every waking moment. They should show this shit in churches:

When the LAWD gonna come for ya, ALL that shit go out the WINDA children. Ya bullshit robes and shit, ya objections, ya gavel, ya big ass fancy speech and all ya power - GONE! Under the desk hidin like the naked little Eve in the garden just runnin from my JEEEESUUU

Ask Blognigger: Is Sean Connery Right About Slapping the Shit Out of Women?

Astute reader Tommy K writes:

Date: Thu, Jul 10, 2008 at 7:20 PM
Subject: Ask blognigger
To: Blog Ngr

Dude! I can't fuckin believe how James Bond breaks this shit down:



So, is that it? I mean, he's an artist, he's European, he's given millions to charity... does that mean I'm good to go? Can I start smacking the shit out of my girl?

-snip-

Not so fast OJ – let's be systematic here: You've got more than a couple of things to consider before hopping behind the wheel of the Ike Turner Justice-Enforcement Van.

Now, I'd be lying like a common Park Slope Food Co-Op homo if I were to tell you that I couldn't empathize with your plight. Only the most full-of-shit-ass politically correct traitor would pretend not to understand what it's like to have that moment – the moment of dizziness that occurs as a woman's persistent refusal to recognize basic logic brings you to an unprecedented level of anger and disbelief; The moment that builds as she takes and takes and takes and takes and takes and is still nowhere near satisfied; The moment, as mister Bond explains, which occurs after you've let her have the last word, but still she demands that you sit in silence while she rubs the punishment phase into your face with steel wool; The moment whose unbearable pressure can only be relieved by psychotic violence.

Strike out against her! Release your hatred! Only your anger can defeat me.

Have fun on COPS. Have fun in court. Have fun in Jersey, unemployed and kidless.

And if she doesn't report you? Have fun with her holding it over your head for the rest of your life. Have fun with her TELLING HER FRIENDS. And FAMILY! And your family! Never mind if she fucked your best friend, called your mother a cunt, and poisoned your guinness with AIDS. you. can't. fuckin. touch'er.

Oh my god, that is SO fucked up! I can't fucking read blogni***r anymore because the only reason he doesn't smack his wife is because of getting in trouble! Listen to him! If he could do it and get away with it - he would totally do it!!!

First of all, I didn't say that. Second of all, bitch shut the fuck up; Do you know how many times my wife has knocked the FUCK outta me? I've been smacked across the face, punched in the chest, kicked in the nuts, hair pulled, nostrils held WHILE I SLEPT like a fuckin Manson family initiation ritual. Where's my fuckin justice Connie??

Yeah but we're women, it's different!!!

Oh sure, play that fuckin card now, when it's convenient, right? But what if I played that card when it was like, time to do the dishes or some shit?

What's that honey? My night to do the dishes?? But... you're a woman!

OH, i see, then the stereotypes are offensive.

God DAMN IT you got my rage valve bumpin. Abort; Just fuckin ABORT. ho's better have my money, case closed. Tommy don't hit your wife you'll go to jail or worse. goin to take a shit and then jack off. kiss my ass go fuck yourself peace.

Report: 'Golden Girls' Stars Set To Bail on Amy Winehouse Funeral

LONDON, England (BNN) – BNN has learned via an unnamed source that the surviving co-stars of The Golden Girls have privately agreed not to attend the funeral of singer Amy Winehouse.

BNN got word of the trio's plan late Monday evening through a close colleague of Bea Arthur.

"They're totally not going," the source explained, "Listen – it's not that they didn't love Amy – it's just everything, it's logistics: Taking time off, flying to the UK, dealing with paparazzi... Plus, you know, it's no secret that Amy hadn't been all there for quite some time. I know that for Bea at least, she feels she said her goodbyes and made her peace with Amy long ago."

BNN contacted Vera Silver, a spokeswoman for the group, who vehemently denied that there was any truth to the story at all.

"This is absolutely 100% not true," insisted Ms. Silver, "it's a complete and total fabrication and I have no idea where it's coming from. There is one agreement currently in place between the Girls, and it has to do with gold bullion and the last surviving member of their group; Otherwise, I can categorically deny that they have made any joint decisions, or have even spoken about Amy Winehouse within the last week."

London-based Reggae star DreadNigel, a close collaborator with Ms. Winehouse, was not so sure.

"Boom-Selecta. Dem crucify christ, youknow," explained the dance-hall phenom, "Makin do a not come an pay respet, youknow? All ovada world. she an she an she need get closa jah original source respet, youknow?"

Further scorn was offered from Winehouse's best friend, London DJ Eli "Zaxxon" Silverstein, who told BNN that he was disappointed by the actresses' decision.

"That shit is quite hurtfow, yeah? I mean, woulday be caught dead ever skippin a white friend's funeral? It's the same sort of racialist crap Amy had to put up wif her whole life- frankly they's lucky to be invited."

Air Amerika: US Gov't channels Soviets, leverages blacks in XM/Sirius gang-rape

It's funny how the colors of the real world only seem really real when you viddy them on the screen.
-Clockwork Orange

I wonder why we never seem to be able to recognize modern freedom fighters until their deeds and likenesses appear in a movie starring Woody Harrelson. I mean, in that extreme case, it's certainly understandable that no one in the 1970's would have seen Larry Flynt ejaculating on an 18-year-old runaway's chest and been like, "there goes a great defender of the Constitution."

However, there are others among us now, fighting against the monolith of American Censorship, who likewise won't get their due until they're portrayed in some HBO Original Movie in 2023.

Listen: The danger of sanitizing our greatest heroes is that we'll paint ourselves into a corner. When we pretend that Martin Luther King didn't love pussy enough to sneak around Coretta, or that JFK didn't chloroform Jackie O so that he could shove his redsox-loving tongue ALL the way up Marilyn Monroe's balloon knot... we do ourselves a disservice. Subsequently, anytime a promising new leader comes onto the scene, we disqualify them from greatness for failing to meet unattainable standards.

That nigga can't be Jesus! He likes a Rim Jobs! My Jesus never let his hole out his pants unless he sittin on toilet.

(Meanwhile, the real Jesus was all about getting a little backdoor digit - just a pinky no-homo, I mean, he wasn't a FAG.)

Lenny Bruce, George Carlin, The Dixie Chicks.... all filthy bastards, all Jesuses who fought against censorship, and they all got their asses kicked by the jews. (just kidding! Mel Gibson! It was obviously Barabbas / The Romans)

Now, Howard Stern is one such Hero. Relax- I'm not putting the nigga on the level of MLK and JFK, but since 1990, he has had to fight the US government for his freedom of speech more than any other American citizen. Surprised? Why, who do you think has battled censorship? Jessie Jackson? Al Sharpton? Tupac? Gimme a fuckin break. Intellectual white america is terrified to ever contradict anything those muthafuckas say, lest they be labeled RACIST by McCarthyism 2.0

Howard Stern is very rich, very white, and he loves pussy; therefore, our politically-correct society will never take him seriously as a hero. But you can't have it both ways - If you get on your high-horse about censorship being a tool of oppression, then ya gotta recognize that in this regard, Howard Stern is the primary freedom fighter in the USA.

Now here's what I want to talk about:

The XM / Sirius merger was the US Government's latest clusterfucked attempt to fuck Howard Stern in his white ass. Here's how it went down: XM and Sirius, two companies each losing hundreds of millions of dollars a year, wisely decided to merge in order to survive. Through lobbyists, (a.k.a. legal graft and corruption) and only because Howard Stern himself is so hated by the US Government and the FCC, Sirius/XM's competition was able to stifle the merger for 18 months while each company hemorrhaged money, lost momentum, and teetered on the brink of survival.

Here's are some mergers that the US government took LESS time to approve:

Exxon / Mobil
CBS / Viacom
Pfizer / Pharmacia / Warner-Lambert
Turner / Time Warner
USA / Iraq

...all companies that provide fucking CRUCIAL products, control the media, or necessitated massive loss of human life to consolidate. XM and Sirius are two tiny shit-ass companies that provide a luxury product that no one needs. Who gives a fuck if they merge?!

Whatever. Why should Blogniggers care? Well, here's why I want to talk about it:

A tactic that the government used in this scenario, apart from being exceedingly entertaining, illustrates why we need to keep working together to slaughter political correctness in it's Park Slope Co-Op shopping tracks.

This is the greatest thing ever:

One of the demands made on XM/Sirius by their competition (wait - since when is a company's competition allowed to make demands of them? Oh right, through lobbyists and via the FCC and US Government's legal corruption policies. ok, start again.)

One of the demands made on XM/Sirius by their competition is that the merged entity devote 25% of their channels to Minority Programming. If this seems to you like a "positive boost for the minority community," just like the government and the N.A.B. want it to seem, then the last 20 years of political correctness may have left you mentally retarded. In either case, I'll explain why this is actually the most offensive thing that the government could have proposed:

XM / Sirius' COMPETITION has suggested that they devote 25% of their channels to MINORITY programming. Why do you think that is? Because they are concerned about minorities? Almost.

Think of it this way: This is the exact same thing as if The NY Knicks suggested that The LA Lakers devote 25% of their starting positions to guys in wheelchairs.

Think they'd do that because they're concerned about the handicapped? You fag, they're doing it so that they can KICK the LAKERS' ASS.

Forget about the fact that the government has no business telling a private organization what kind of programming they should be offering. It's worse than that - the motivation for this benevolent, progressive suggestion is that they want XM / Sirius to have to play with a handicap: and they view "minority programming" as that handicap! And they do it under the guise of that we-care-about-the-niggers mentality!

Revolting.

By the way, what the fuck is minority programming? They already have rap stations and the gay channel and shit - so what is MINORITY PROGRAMMING?

• Our Taco Hour
• Asian Ricedick Forum
• The Nigger Channel
• Torah Today sorry, forgot jews aren't minorities
• Laura "Cunty" Stevens' House of Fags
  

that shit is offensive to me. I'm a fuckin minority and I listen to Howard Stern, Classic Hip-Hop, Pure Jazz, and the comedy channel: so that shit IS minority programming!

In the XM/Sirius battle, even as a "winner" emerges, the damage is done. The damage is done to these companies, who will have a hard time recovering the momentum they had when they first announced the merger, and the damage is done to ME: following this merger has been an eye-opening experience for me, someone who normally thinks that anti-government protesters are a bunch of overreacting self-entitled whinerfags. Guess I'm one naive negro.

Alright, go get started on today's hate mail about how you prefer Black Hagrid posts; try to get it in before 9 as I've got an early day tomorrow. Meanwhile, the wife and kids are out, so I'm off to the bathroom with my laptop, a box of kleenex, and some quality minority programming.

No-Nigger

I still think Haffin' is a fucking genius for getting all meta on the nohomo shit yesterday. Sure he was trying to hate, but I tookded his aids and made lemonaids: It's without question a brilliant concept to take no homo and abstract it to all conceivable races and identities.

I also agree with Nicole that yesterday brought out the best in our commenters. We've certainly got a cool community here and I'm psyched to suck all your dicks clean nohomo.

So let us take those two sentiments and combine them with Blognigger.com's stated purpose of ridding the earth of political correctness; let's all share (pause) our own racial insecurities and rip the shit out of ourselves as a healing and therapeutic exercise.

Consider it like Blognigger Soduku - take this shit on the train with you, bring a pencil like one a them domincans who moves her lips when she reads, and try to come up with some good burners for your own race and affiliations.

I'll start by hooking up 10 phrases for the blecks. Afterwards, All yall have to comment and use your own races / identities to bring out your own hangups. This is going to prevent us all from getting cancer. I expect to see at LEAST no-nigger no-hooknose no-guinea no-beaner and no-cockslut. And blognigger queer contingent, please feel free to deliver your own customized no-homo submissions as well.

Ready?

10. I'll start with the house salad please, and then I'll have the Southern Fried Chicken no-nigger.

9. That reminds me babe, it's the 25th so the cable bill is late no-nigger.

7. Ma, you're sweet but the kids aren't super-fond of honeydew - they're really bigger fans of watermelon no-nigger.

6. I so don't feel like working today no-nigger.

5. ...and can you see if they have grape no-nigger?

4. Yeah, my mom still lives uptown; my dad left when I was 2 so I never really knew him no-nigger.

3. Not the damn hatchet, it's a fuckin oak tree dummy; hand me the axe no-nigger.

2. We absolutely need to invest in education to make a positive change in this community no-nigger.

1. Damn girl, you got the BaDONKaDONK. Shit boo, them shits look like a dinasour muffin. I'd get up in that ass pooky, UH!!! I'd throw a hurtin on yo shit like Mike Tyson '86 no-nigger.

BONUS burner to get Seth started on his deliverables for today:
* Let me get the Turkey Club, hold the bacon no-hooknose

holla! (nn)

No Homo

Alright, I definitely missed ALL of this shit. I'm positive that we didn't used to call No Homo growing up... Did we? No; it's new, right? Thanks to astute reader Casey for introducing me to the concept via this video:



And what's with "Pause?" Check out this reporter doing it to Spike Lee at 22 seconds in. And Spike is like me - he don't even know from this shit and it just goes right over his head.

Was this shit invented by Generation-Y? If so, this and Facebook are yalls 2 contributions to society. Congratulations on your arrival as a productive Generation; I find it fucking fabulous, nohomo.

Ask Blognigger: What do you have against black women?

Astute reader Bklyn Negress writes:

Come now Blognigger! Do you really think Whoopi steamrolled Miss Elizabeth?

-snip-

Here is my theory – please feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. I don’t think you actually believe Whoopi steamrolled Elizabeth. I think your angst is because all that loud talking caused Miss Elisabeth to shed a tear or two. After all, for a self-professed lover of white pussy I’m sure there’s nothing more upsetting than watching that pussy cry and feeling powerless to do anything about it.

-snip-

So tell me, did I get it right? Come on – I promise no one else has to know.

See, Bklyn Negress, this is why I end up with white women.
You've left me as limp as a shoelace; Seriously– it's like a turtle right now.

You obviously don't understand the first thing about straight men - just because I would pay to fuck Elisabeth, how could you possibly think that'd mean I wouldn't want to see her cry? Fuck that shit - I'd spank it to her crying; Shit, I'd be pumping off to the Elizabeth crying video right now, if only I could edit out that big revolting Whoopi Goldberg. Bitch looks like Jar-Jar:

So, instead of answering the question you asked, let me answer your real question, i.e. why do I like white girls and ultimately, what do I have against black women.

Listen, how can you honestly ask me that?

God damnit, I don't have anything against black women!! With so many goddamn black women in my family, the black women that raised me, the black women that fed me, you honestly think I could have something against black women? I just don't want to FUCK them, and that's two entirely different things altogether.

Correction - I DO want to fuck some black women – a whole buncha black women – just not SISTAS.

Observe SISTAS:




Now, if I looked at either one of these chicks on freeze frame, they'd seem attractive as hell. But the second they start opening their mouths, it's an absolute 100% turn off. They might as well have 12 inch dicks growing out of their foreheads. (Couldn't see shit cause the balls would be in they eyes.) Now for clarity, you might be a SISTA if:

a) You consider yourself a SISTA
b) You have ever bragged about being "Educated"
c) You have ever used the phrase "chocolate brotha"
d) You talk about giving back to the community
e) You wear or look like you wear Lee press-on nails.
f) You do the neckpump.

In the case that any of these are true, I just have no interest. Sorry! Not trying to be a dick, just honest - It's fun to talk to you guys (If I'm not with my white wife and you're judging me) and I guess it's good that you're so passionate and motivated and "bettering yourself" etc, and I like watching you fight on youtube and Cops and stuff, It's just that I'm completely and utterly unattracted to you. Why? I dunno. I'm scared of you. I'm bored of you. You sound like my judgmental cousins and we have nothing in common.

Examples of Black women I am attracted to:

• Zadie Smith
• Lisa Bonet
• Robin Givens
• The girl from Coming To America
• Soldja Girl (jk)
  

Now, one thing I'm into recently is to play "guess the hate mail," since for every post I get about 20 pieces of mail telling me how much I suck and what a sellout fuck I am. Guessing the hate mail in this scenario is beyond easy - All the "Sistas" are going to email me and tell me what a sellout fuck I am AND highlight the fact that all the black women I'm attracted to are "oreo-cookie-ass black 'n white bitches" blahblahblah. I have a shriveled raisin - a fucking ACORN down there just thinking about it.

Bottom line is this: It's not about race. It's not about skin color, or features, etc. It's not about class either, because these hip hop sistas with all this money and shit - still completely sexually unappealing to me. I think it's about being attracted to people that are like me - I just don't identify with that aggressive, inherently angry culture at all. And I'm angry!! And I love hip hop and Chapelle! But when it comes to girls, it just doesn't do it for me. Weird huh? Any psychologists out there? You got enough of a profile, let's hear it!

Maybe yall just scare me because I've spent my life being yelled at and judged and discriminated against by The Real Black People(tm). So maybe I'm conditioned like a tiny oreo rat, to go and push the white-pussy lever instead of eat the high-voltage chitlins. I dunno. In any case, don't let my introspection deter you: Get mad! Go ahead, get angry because I'm honest- you're in good company.

So Bklyn Negress, I know you probably consider this abhorrent, but that's my answer. And hey– don't worry about losing anotha brotha to the white girls; if we met you'd probably just consider me white anyway.

AIDS: It can't go up the little hole.

Here's the first time I ever heard of AIDS:

I was in the old Dairy Queen next to the Toys R' Us on Rt 4 in New Jersey – a place my dad and mom used to take us if we had been good for like a month – and I was in the bathroom taking a piss at the urinal next to my father. I was mad short because I was like 7, and my genitals were close to the little white porcelain casing of the urinal.

"You didn't just touch your dick to the urinal, did you?"
I shook my head and looked wide-eyed at my pops, scared like I had just taken a cookie or lied or some shit.
"Don't touch your dick to that thing or you'll get AIDS."

Bam. So began a 20 year nightmare.

Now, in high school, there was this one time that we had this big blood drive. All the kids over 16 or some shit were all giving blood. (I'll never do that shit again, btw - you fuckin NEED your blood. That's why you feel all dizzy and fucked up after giving blood. You need your blood and it's not healthy to give it away.)

Part of giving blood was of course, an aids test, so that they don't give niggas who need transfusions your aidsblood. So here was the deal - everyone gives blood, they take it back to the lab and then in 6 short weeks mail you a letter thanking you if you're all good. If you have aids you get a phonecall. Pretty good system: it's in all the children's heads that there's a massive fucking pandemic that's going to kill 3 niggas you know by 1995, you probably have it if you've played spin-the-bottle, and now they'll let you chill for 6 weeks with the rest of your class, waiting to find out who among you is the deathblood leper.

So, suffice it to say that like most of my tough male friends, I was scared shitless.
I mean, don't get my wrong, I hadn't even LOOKED at some pussy wrong at that point - them aids propagandists had niggas wearing space suits before we would even hold hands with a bitch. However, I just thought - what if somehow, from a mosquito or a microscopic lipcut, or someshit like that - it was me. So at that point, I knew I had aids and I was gonna die.

Now, there was this girl in my class, lets just call her Cunty. REAL aids activist, early gay-rights type, SUPER politically correct in 1992 son - made Rosie O'Donnell look like Daniel Carver. So Cunty comes up to my little clique all lookin for a fight and shit. We're all talking about how no one in a rich white private school has aids and calming ourselves down, telling each other we don't have to worry. She's chewing her gum and goes:

Well, someone here has it.

Wha?

Look at the statistics - AIDS doesn't care if we're rich and white you IDIOTS. There's like 150 people here - at least one person in this class has it.

Cunty was cunty, and man she scared the SHIT out of us. That shit WORKED. It just sounded so legit - talking about math and shit - and she spent all her time studying this shit... this was to be her grand payback. She got to sit back like these Jehovah's witneses I ran into on 9-11 and be like "Whad we say? Huh? PUNK ass bitches witcha head in the sand."

So at that point, I knew I had aids and I was gonna die.

Except I didn't. No one did. Cause rich white people - even the little rich browns that go to school with them - don't get aids.

But here's how I really was gonna get it: there was this FINE blonde hippie girl at my school who probably wanted to know whether brothas really have big dicks. She wanted to go black, but I'm sure she quickly went back cause her dad would have beaten her to death with a lead pipe. Anyway, I got to go down on her. Tasted like Pez; She was off the hook.

Of course, I did this without using a DENTAL DAM: the thing the dykes who came to our school safe-sex assemblies stood up and told us we'd DIE without. Like I'm gonna go get some saran wrap and lick a girl's pussy through that shit like a chassid. Gimme a fuckin break. Has ANYONE ever used a dental dam? Lemme know. (Pics or it didn't happen)

So I was sure I got aids from eating that beautiful blonde girl's pussy, and I was gonna die. Now here's the fun part: I didn't get tested after that ALL through college. And while the billion guinea pigs I fucked through college never came crying to my dorm room door telling us we both had aids, I still spent literally 50% of my alone time thinking about how I was going to die of aids.

This was my college pastime – I only did it about oh, literally 400 times in 4 years: I would take bong hits, sit around in my room listening to music and having a great time, and then suddenly remember I had aids and have a fucking panic attack and vomit and end up in a cold shower.

Now, in college, there was a dude named Gary The Gimp. He was like, borderline retarded and got into my fairly ritzy university off the waiting-list at the last minute. Or his dad was fuckin Michael Corleone, i dunno. Anyway, he had a bad stutter. So this one time we were all sitting in our kitchen, and some guy who was about to get some poon came in and was like "Anyone have a condom???"

No one did. The guy was fuckin PISSED.

So Gary the Gimp goes "d-d-d-d-ude, just do it without!"
"Are you fuckin crazy?"
"n-n-n-o dude it feels so much fucking better have you done it?! you just, p-p-p-pull out!"

We were like, "dude, have you ever heard of fucking AIDS, you dumbass?"
And he goes "n-n-n-n-o dude it can't go up the little hole!"

At the time, we obviously felt like we were talking to a stoned and retarded Balky from Meepos . But here's what happened: I was sleeping over at my friend's parents house right before graduation, and I looked up at the guy's dad's bookshelf and this title caught my eye: "The Myth of Heterosexual AIDS." I was like, OH SNAP kid, that is a FUCKED UP title - felt like I was looking at an old campy relic, like a little marble statue of a black watermelon baby or someshit - something taboo like, now that we know better.

Of course I went and took the book down and glanced through it - it was recently published, and the guy was for real. You can still read all his shit here. His basic point is that the activists spent the 80s distorting facts about AIDS to make it seem mainstream, when in reality it was primarily a disease that homosexuals and heroin users got. He says they did this to try and save homosexuals from essentially being quarantined, surely a noble goal, but one that ultimately spread lies and diverted funds from the high-risk groups that really needed them most. His evidence was shit like by the year 2000, one-in-two people was supposed to have aids, and it never materialized. I can't really argue with that shit, can you?

I *remember* the poor zealot Cunty (not her fault - she was lied to like some iraq '03 shit) telling us that everyone was going to know someone with aids, etc. Never happened. I was told on an aids hotline we pranked that you can get aids from the exchange of fluids on ANY "mucus membrane" including the lips. Still think that's true? Did we get more evidence at some point, or did they just come off some of the BS? You know how I think you get aids? From being fucked in the ass by a man who cuts your anal lining with his giant member and then comes in your asscut. Or from shooting heroin with someone and injecting their aidsblood into yours.

OR, no matter what anyone says, from mosquitoes. Fine, doctor theorist nigga, let me put you in a room with a billion mosquitoes and someone with aids. Won't do it, huh? Figures, theorist ass BITCH.

Anyway, fucked in the cut-up-ass, or heroin. That's how you get aids. It can't just go up the little hole. My bad, Gary.

I'm pretty pissed off that I got my sexual childhood jacked like that. I coulda been fuckin bitches all over and not stressin, and instead I was puking into my bong with aids. Fuckin liberal-ass media stealing my fuckin prime fuckin years.

Jesus, I spent so much time scared shitless that I had aids. All that wasted time, and it turns out I'm fine. I mean, I guess I'm fine; my wife was tested and shit when she was pregnant, and I'm sure she would have said something.

Gentrified!!

Hi, I'm Robert Dobbs Jr, a.k.a Blognigger. If you're visiting this site for the first time – TOO FUCKING LATE! This site has now been GENTRIFIED. Happened over the weekend; the brokers moved in, and now it's a site for FAGS, like fucking Brownstoner.com: All the posts will be shit about who has the biggest house, which houses are selling for what prices, minor quibbles about the temperature of gazpacho at expensive restaurants, exposés on retarded dykes who make their own shitty clothes and dreamcatchers and shit, and lists of flea markets and stoop sales.

All the niggers are being pushed out as we speak - starting with that little aunt jemima blackface on the right-nav: GONE.

Spics are next, then lesbians, but the kykes can stay for now as long as they don't mention handjobs again.

The good news is that if you've been a part of Blognigger for the last 3 months, you can now start bitching about how great it used to be (although many of you complained incessantly through its golden era as well don't forget - and if you thought it was shitty then, just WAIT till you get a load of this shit now that it's jumped the pink-dicked shark.)

See, now I have a name, (BLOGNIGGER == ROBERT DOBBS JR) the blackface pic is gone, and I've got a professionally designed image which utilizes font technology: it's just like I've been purchased by a fucking corporation. The site is no longer raw, edgy, or underground: It's gonna fuckin SUCK.

For today's entertainment, I'm honored to have been asked to do a guest post at post at Dear Famous Asshole. Check out my tone on this piece - I'm a method actor, so I shoved a veiny buttplug up my ass while typing it. I said I'm a CHAMELEON son - you saw datshit?

Co-branding! Cross-sells! Affiliates!
One corporate, white love.

Ask Blognigger: A Happy Marriage - Pt. 3

The solution is this:

And let me just say one final piece: I understand your skepticism. One of the greatest disappointments of my life has been learning that whenever someone says they have something that's magic, it's always bullshit. Starting with seeing Doug Henning and those bozos in Merlin when I was 8, and learning that all that shit was fake, and moving on to any time someone has said they had a secret or a shortcut or a strategy or a solution, it has always turned out to be not quite what was promised; always designed to make you work more, or wait more, or buy more shit, but never ever the magic it was promised to be.

I'm sure that what solidified my skeptical foundation must have been my experience with Rembrant Co. X-Ray Sunglasses. I can just smell the pages of comic books and my old room when I look at this:

Gorgeous. I'll probably see something like this in my mindseye on my deathbed. My grampa chillin and beckoning me with those yellowed comic books and that smell.

But goddamnit, look at those bullshit false promises. The lies were so deceptive, so gorgeous, so American...

See through fingers!
through skin!
See yolk of egg
See lead of pencil
Nothing else to buy!

It's like a beautiful poem written by George Bush and Gollum.

See through clothes. See...through...clothes. Now that was the real jam right there, and that's what got me to save my allowance and send in ten bucks. I couldn't tell my parents of course - I wonder why not? Maybe the glasses were just so incredible that I knew my mom and dad would stand in the way or fuck it up somehow. Or maybe I just knew that my parents wouldn't let me have them because my they didn't want me to see naked ladies, like not being allowed to get a Playboy.

I couldn't tell my parents, so I got a fucking money order. First trip to the post office ever - 107th between Broadway and Amsterdam next to the methadone clinic. Anyone feel me? Holla back.

I checked our goddamn mailbox every day after school - skipped mcDonald's and went straight home to beat my mom back to the house. When the package finally arrived and I saw it in that mailbox, I felt like I was going to swallow my own tongue or suffocate.

I hid that shit under my shirt so the neighbors wouldn't see, got upstairs, ran to my room, tore that shit open, ripped out the glasses, threw them on and nothing nothing nothing happened. My hands looked totally normal just darker and it was all fake; all bullshit and fake. I was all alone in my fucking silent room with the torn cardboard mailer and the useless sunglasses and no one to tell.

So I know why you want to protect yourself, and build a wall, and don't want to believe me when I say I have the solution. But I do. I have the solution.

Here it is:

Handjobs from white chicks.

There. Now that you have it, you can relax. There's no more Terrance and Phillips, it's just us, and we have the secret. Now you can relax, and let me explain it.

There are several different locations in New York City, and I'm not talking about little asian massage parlors on top of wholesale garment shops... I'm talking about locations in manhattan in which white college-age girls, who are NOT prostitutes and are not dirty and are not diseased and are not depressed, will welcome you into their neat studio apartments, and for half the price of your cable bill, will take off your clothes, take off their tops, rub your shoulders, work their way down your chest, envelop your redness, drip oil onto you, tease it until you're as hard as a 2-by-4, and finally, while you gently caress their sorority breasts and gaze into their blue eyes, they will grab hold of you and hit 5th gear till you make a mess.

Want to know where they are? Fuck you, I'm not fucking illoogle. Go learn about boolean operators and search the interdex.

I find that practicing this ritual once a month allows me to remain a productive member of society, and stay completely and utterly dedicated to my fantastic and unique wife - without whom I would be dead as Len Bias. I am able to maintain a productive and beautiful sex life with my wife, because once a month I know that I will be able to experience a powerful orgasm with a completely new girl who poses NO threat to my family, and who I never have to see again.

Let me anticipate some of your comments, not that it will stop you:

1) I don't give a FUCK what society says. I absolutely KNOW that this solution is the right one for me, because it lets me deal with my chemicals and satisfies a STUPID, MEANINGLESS chemical urge in a safe and efficient manner. As far as I'm concerned, it's like eating a grape or taking a lexapro: Chemical imbalance, Chemical realignment. Because those chemicals are properly maintained, I won't ever have my head explode in 20 years and have to flee my family the way my father did.

2) The churchy cockmasters who tell me I'm a sinner have already slashed their credibility by giving rimjobs to alterboys. Fuck you.

3) To the judgemental park slope dykes and dads who ask me if I'd want my daughter doing that to some guy some day? FUCK YOU. That's a low blow but I have an answer for you: I'm a dad, and to think about my daughter with ANY man - even one she's dated for 5 years without holding hands - in ANY kind of physical situation makes me want to vomit and cut my own eyes out. So I'm not a good judge. Go fuck yourself.

4) To the judgemental park slope moms who would ask what about my wife? How would I feel if she were doing the same thing? Well Oprah, if she kept it under control the way I do, and was SAFE, and it made her happy AND she didn't let me find out about it?? GOOD. god bless her. I hope she IS doing it.

I guess fuck you too, right?

5) To the judgemental fucks who ask how I can look at myself in the mirror while I live a life peppered with a monthly lie? No, U! TELLING HER would be the most selfish thing I could ever do- it would be all about absolving myself from the nonsensical guilt you're trying to infest me with, and it would ONLY serve to hurt her for no reason in return.

That's the solution, and I feel great.

There's your answer Deb - that's my advice. If you want a long and successful marriage, respect the chemicals, and know that they have nothing to do with whether your husband loves you the most. He's gonna look at tits. He's gonna spank it to the girls in his ibook. He's gonna wish he could have a monthly handjob from a white chick.

Let him do it! Be secure! He's a person and he loves you! Help him be like me; I'm the greatest fucking husband in the world.

Ask Blognigger: A Happy Marriage - Pt. 2

Since the last Blognigger post, you've waited twenty-four long hours to discover Blognigger's ingenious solution to the single most troubling problem of our time. Now finally the shocking truth about this secret...
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...will NOT be revealed today so that we can bring you the following Special Presentation:


Now, get ready for Canada's hottest action stars, Terrance and Phillip! The HBC movie of the week, Not Without My Anus, based on a true story:

Ask blognigger: A Happy Marriage

Astute reader Deb K. writes,


Date: Thu, Jul 3, 2008 at 8:29 AM
Subject: marital advice bn style :^)
To: Blogngr

Good morning BN,

Quick question:
For some reason, I see you as being a great husband. I know you're high on the ladies of the new york city subway system, but I still can't shake the feeling that in the end, you've got this unshakable devotion to your wife and family.

-snip-

Can you offer any advice to two newlyweds? What's the secret to a long lasting, happy marriage?

-snip-

hugs,
Deb K.


Good question, Deb, thanks.

First of all, temptress, before we even get started, I have to summarily and unequivocally REJECT the so-called "hugs" you offer as a passively-romantic valediction. You see, I'm a married man, and therefore SWORN to reject any and all forms of physical contact / suggestion of contact whose effects would register a .001 or higher on a Penile Plethysmograph.

See, that's me trying to show you, via the Socratic method, how you need to live if you want to have a long and happy life with the person you've sworn to forsake all others for. Basically, you need to either stifle ALL human sexual urges you experience from now until you DIE, or you will have to give up your kids, half of everything you own, and move to Jersey.

I'm joking of course, in my typical minstrelly fashion, but let's all be on the same page that that's exactly the message that our society, our church, and our judgmental Oprahs have sent since the world went 'color' sometime about 1950.

Now, your hunch is correct, and I ain't shittin ya: I'm a great husband. My wife and kids are the most critical thing in the world to me - and not in an abstract Ward Cleaver type of way. I mean that they fill and monopolize the deepest tier of my reptilian brain - I perpetually hold their well-being as the single fuckin DIRECTIVE that guides my entire existence. I'm like a fucking bee in a hive: 45 degrees right. 45 units forward. protect hive. 45 degrees right. protect queen. honeydance. protect queen.

And I've never been happier. Really. I receive 99.99% of my happiness from my kids and my wife, especially now that the Yankees suck such a large cock. Without my wife and kids, I'd have topped myself long ago.

However, we've got a problem here: I've got these fuckin chemicals in my head, see? It's not my fuckin fault- it's god and jesus and Darwin- They put that shit up there. Read the subway girl post lest you forget. I have the fucking chemicals, and now, JUST LIKE I HAVE TO EAT, I have to stick my dick into new, fresh, unseen places and make it do push-ups until it throws up.

That's the curse. Do I want it that way, just because it's fun when it's doing push-ups? Nah. It's a hassle. I would probably take pills to stifle the urge if I could. It's a burden. But as burdens go, jesus it's one of the best.

So, we've got a problem. Getting rid of those chemicals properly is in direct contradiction to my wedding vows. And more importantly, getting rid of those chemicals properly can result in being admonished at a press conference by Oprah like Spitzer, poor bastard, giving up your kids, half your shit, and of course, moving to Jersey.

Now; what's a nigga to do? Guess what: I know the answer.

I had two formative childhood experiences that I want to share with you:

Story 1:
I used to sit in back of the hottest chick in the world in Spanish class in 1988. I mean hot. Blond chick for chrissakes – tanned, gorgeous legs – I used to sit and stare at the backs of her legs and ankles like I was delivering a Heaven's Gate recruitment pitch. I almost failed that goddamn class because I couldn't pay attention to anything but the back of her legs, her butt, her arms, week-old fading polish on her painted little fingernails... and then she had this move where she would brush her hair back, and I'd get a tiny little glimpse of her blond neck - tiny little downy hairs, and that shit would send me right to the 1st floor bathroom to go rub one out. Almost failed the goddamn class.

Anyway, through the psychotic magic of Warhol's 15 Minutes of Fame Postulate, in a psychotic anti-matter improbability-drive-induced turn of events, I was somehow able to end up DATING this girl. Black computer geek. Yes. (Sadly but expectedly, her father immediately commit suicide upon learning of our involvement)

The first time we kissed, I was 15 years old. I had been dreaming about her for so long, it was like I won the jesus cock lottery from god. We were making out at a party and she was touching me on the outside of my jeans, and I lasted 30 seconds. 80's blue jeans - THICK like jordache basics, son; 30 seconds.

Fast forward a year. I was 16 - I had banged her so many times, in so many different places: on the bed, on the floor, on the blanket by the door, I had sex more than I masturbated - and I don't think that's ever happened to me again in the next 20 years of my life. I had had sex with her so many times, that I didn't look forward to it anymore. Quite the opposite; It became a chore that I had to fulfill to keep her happy so that I wouldn't be subjected to the high-school equivalent of Oprah / Give up Kids / Give Up Stuff / Jersey sentence - which is basically her going bang the captain of the football team while I cried and played with Hypercard.

So there was this seminal moment of my life where we were at her house, and her mom was lecturing us while the family dog ran around the den. I looked up at her, looked at my girlfriend, and as the time for forced, impending evening sex approached, I remember thinking "you know, I'd rather have sex with your mom than you, because at least that would be somewhat fresh and different."

Moral of formative experience #1: I realized (at a pretty damn young age!) that no matter how much initial attraction, love, sexual attraction you have for someone, it will ultimately fade into the doldrums of ordinariness.

in other words, as a great writer used to say to me, "No matter how hot that chick is, there's some guy that's tired of fuckin 'er."

Period. It will happen every time, forever - maybe some guys don't have as much of the chemicals as I do - in that case, god bless ya ya lucky fucks. But for me, all that bullshit about working on your sex life, getting a fuckin kama-sutra book, or some wacky oil, or dressing your wife up like a cop or sticking a sombrero on her head and pretending she's border patrol - it's just that: bullshit. My wife in a fucking piñata is still my wife and I don't wanna fuck it.

[Whoa - WTF?! What happens when your wife reads this? She won't. Ever. HOSTS FILE MANIPULATION, son. She'll never read blognigger again - I have her redirected to a local cache of the site. If you have future tech support questions, please email. Now: let honesty reign.]

Story 2:
b) My father, a successful dentist on central park west, was forced to bang my mother fifteen million times over the 20 year period that they were married. He stifled his chemical urges for so long that it built up inside him like the uncontainable panic of drowning. About to explode, he finally decided that if he didn't leave our family in order to start banging 20-year-olld white-chicks, he would die. THIS is what happens if you stifle the chemicals for 20 years. Either you get cancer, you get divorced, or both.

Fast forward 20 years. My dad is divorced AGAIN, not because of the chemicals, but because something very predictable happened: He fucked hot white 20 year olds until he found one he fell in "love" with (ha!) married her too, and like magic, she became ordinary and annoying and boring and everything that his first wife was. Finally, in an illogical fit of anger at god and the chemicals, he gave her half of everything he owned like some satanic recursive subtractor virus.

MY DAD DIED FOR OUR SINS LIKE JESUS - He was the guinea pig, and now we all know what NEVER to do. If you GET DIVORCED FOR PUSSY, then if you are LUCKY, the way my dad was, you will just end up in AS miserable a situation, just as bored of what was once new pussy. YOU CANNOT FOOL GOD OR THE CHEMICALS WITH YOUR SILLY RE-ALIGNMENTS.

NOW... again, I ask you: what's a nigga to do? Remember, I KNOW THE SOLUTION. I don't know all that much shit, but I know the goddamn secret to this: I've made it one of the most important points of my life to discover this secret, and I did it BEFORE getting married so that my wife, my kids, and my shit would always be safe.

Before I just tell you the solution however, let's ask a few questions about the solution:

a) Is the SOLUTION what Will Smith and Jada have just announced to the internest? Having an open marriage?

Doesn't sound bad right? Right? Get to bang whoever you want? all the time? ok? sounds ok? right? WRONG DUMBASS, what about your wife being allowed to fuck mexicans? Still think an open marriage is a good idea, IDIOT? Say what's up the the SENEGALESE brother that your tiny jewish bride is going to be squatting over WHENEVER SHE FEELS LIKE IT.

nga please.

That ain't the goddamn solution.

The solution is this:

(TO BE CONTINUED...)

Obama Blasts Controversial New Yorker Cover for Excluding Depiction of Watermelon, Grits.

NEW YORK, New York (BNN) – Barack Obama slammed the editors of The New Yorker late this afternoon, over a cartoon cover that depicts the Democratic candidate and his wife as Islamic, gun-slinging terrorists.

Mr. Obama's criticism was directed primarily at the magazine's failure to represent the racial stereotypes that he says are truly on the minds of Middle Americans, focusing instead on the safer and more superficial issue of the candidate's falsely rumored Muslim affiliation.

"Certainly if an organization such as The New Yorker is attempting to bring it," argued Obama at an afternoon press conference, "then my family, myself, and the American public would expect them to bring it."

"It really boils down to a lack of willingness to call a spade a spade," railed Obama, "look at the representation of my wife's hips and backside: they've drawn her as possessing soymilk - barely capable of summoning mice to cheese - much less a milkshake that brings the boys to the proverbial yard."

The candidate's wife shared her husband's criticism of the magazine, adding "Basically, they drew me like a white girl with an afro and a gun. Fuck that shit- they gots to fuck with the SHUUUGAA!" she snapped, jerking up and down as her sizable breasts beat against her chest and chin like African tetherballs.

"Politically speaking, the New Yorker is of a vehemently left-wing affiliation," said Dr. Todd Hagey, Professor Emeritus of Political Science and International Affairs at George Washington University, "but like all other print media, they are plagued with decreasing circulation. Subsequently, the magazine faces the challenge of manufacturing a lucrative controversy while still remaining safely tucked away in the pocket of defensible liberalism."

When asked how the depiction of a leading presidential candidate as a terrorist can be seen as safely defensible, Dr. Hagey paused for a moment and took a draw off his pipe.

"As inflammatory as the New Yorker would like this cover to seem," he confided, "they'd still never dare show him eating chicken."

DCod Release Candidate 0.9 Beta

[Praise jesus: Second-to-last DCod post ever!!]

Release notes:

Elapsed time, one week: I'm extremely fucking bored with my career as a Park Slope legislator, and I'm ready to bail and bail hard. However, I have sworn to carry out my duties to ratify this constitution, and goddamnit I shall do so; Let's get this shit done quick though, cause I can assure you that I'm going to blow my brains out like Budd Dwyer soon. I know I'm not the only one - thanks for your emails, douches. Don't worry, this is the second-to-last-DCod post ever.

Here's my plan:

a) I've heard from about 250 people via comments and email, including discussions with high-ranking officials from both factions. I now agree with the vast majority of these people that there exists an actual potential for a shared document of this kind to have some effect on our troubled neighborhood and our quality of life. Additionally, I agree that as far as actual legislative artifacts are concerned, ENOUGH would-be participants tend to be turned off by the words shit fuck cock pussy cunt and nigger. Fair enough. The goal of taking this document to the next level is to actually create something that both sides can adhere to in order to make all our lives a little better. Again; need to do it swiftly, as my suicide is impending.

b) As a humorous piece of writing that I'd like to remember as-is, the original Declaration will stand unmodified.

c) I'm creating a new document that is essentially a clean version - it contains the sum total of the amendments collected from you fantastic people and some from a few of you Travis Bickle sociopaths as well. (Forget differing opinions - the energy behind some of your writing reveals a few of you as being so poisonous, you should consider character work for the Taliban's Fall Catalog.)

d) Take this week to make sure your feedback will be represented in the new document - wherever we had conflicting amendments, I tried to find a balanced solution. Let me know how I fucked up and don't understand anything and am a breeder and support the breeders.

e) I've registered TheDeclarationOfCoDependedence.com. After this week, I'll put the final document there. Also, it will be a shit fuck cock pussy cunt and nigger free zone - except that for posterity, it will contain a link to the original DCod. Hence, victims will be able to walk by offenders and say "Man, check out the declaration of co dependence dot com" without having to use the word nigger. That can be a doozy; you never get a second chance to make a first impression.

f) I'll also create a nice looking PDF and make it available at that site. So, the ten-or-so people that have contacted me about distributing print versions - knock yourselves out! Again, the print versions won't contain cusses. I can't justify delivering material containing the n-word to random houses. It's just too much like a burning cross; Some poor black family gets a pamphlet with a big blackface and the word nigger on it, and they're liable to move back to Atlanta.

g) No I can't contribute to the cost of printing! Can't believe TWO people asked me that - What are you, Hare Kirshna??! Kiss my fucking ass, yeah bn gets 1000s of daily visitors, but one-point-two-five of them click the google ads and I make 43 cents a day! Can't even support an Ethiopian child; I lose money like every other blogger besides dooche. Suck my balls. If you click an ad, I'm happy to take all of that money and give it to you for printouts.

Okay, here are the raw rules as they'll be integrated into the final document:

0: Generic term "Kid," unless otherwise noted, means person of age 7 or younger.
0.a: Generic term "Parent" means person with a kid.
0.b: Generic term "Non-Parent" means person without a kid.

1: Sidewalk Behavior

1.a Parents with strollers shall not occupy more than 66% of the width of a given sidewalk's walking area, except for periods of less than ten seconds when passing jutting storefront artifacts such as elongated entranceways, outdoor eating areas, or subway stations.

1.a.1 In cases where Article I.a.1. is violated, Non-Parents are requested to keep a sense of propriety and a sense of humor regarding the violation.

1.b - Children who ride scooters, skates, bicycles, skateboards, or rollerblades on sidewalks, must be carefully monitored by their parents. It is unacceptable for parents to allow their children to create unsafe sidewalk conditions by violating common sense in this situation.

1.b.1: Age Matrix:

PPW - anyone can ride anytime
8th ave - kids 12 or under can ride
7th ave - kids 6 or under can ride
6th ave - kids 12 or under can ride
5th ave - kids 6 or under can ride
4th ave - anyone can ride anytime, subject to change once next wave of gentrification creates anger sufficient to revise.

1.b.2 - In the case of a violation of Article 1.2, parents are hereby forbidden to make the "isn't he cute face" at the victim of the violation.

1.b.3 - In benign cases of sidewalk riding, e.g. a 5-year-old girl merely riding a pink-princess scooter down a side street, Non-parents can't be rude.

1.c - Residents, with strollers are not, are not allowed to congregate on corners near crosswalks. If you see someone you know and want to invoke the stopNchat ritual, you're required to move off the crosswalk and deeper onto the sidewalk.

1.d - Parents must ask permission before kids go to pet dogs.

2: Restaurant Behavior

2.a: In general, Parents must assume no one thinks your kid is cute but you.

2.b: Isn't-he-cute face in restaurants is prohibited unless Non-Parent initiates.

2.c: Parents must make sure kids say please and thank you but DON'T waste the waiter's time by using it as a training session while the waiter just stands there. (i.e. Respect the waiter's time)

2.d: Waiters must realize that parents and kids want to eat and get out fast.

2.e: AFTER 60 seconds of screaming, parents must take screaming kid out of restaurant.

2.f: Kids are allowed in any restaurant until 7pm

2.g: For any restaurant where the majority of entrees are MORE than $15, kids are not allowed past 7pm.

2.h: For any restaurant where the majority of entrees are LESS than $15, kids are not allowed past 8:30pm

2.i Breastfeeding is allowed everywhere, all the time.

2.i.1 Individuals with superhuman powers such as aquaman and other members of justiceleague who can SMELL breasmilk from the next table and find it more objectionable than the smell of all the regular milk and the breath of the old bastard in the corner, are entitled to ask to not be seated next to a breastfeeding mother.

2.j: No kids in bars after 6pm (Except for Johnny Mack's which is hereby the designated spot for children of productive alcoholics)

3: Bookstores:

3.a: Kids allowed in Community Bookstore Children's section, and Barnes & Noble.

3.a.1: No complaining or muttering about kids allowed in these (3.a) bookstores.

4: Movie Theaters:

4.a: No kids allowed in movie theaters for shows that start at 8pm or later.

4.b: Puerto Rican dna testing directive will be removed. God DAMNIT this isn't even fucking fun.

4.c: No kids allowed in movies with ratings of PG-13, R, NC-17, or XXX

4.d: Non-parents at kid movies can't get pissed if kids talk and act like kids.

5: Supermarket Behavior

5.a: Fathers are in charge of enforcing: no carts in aisles

5.a.1: if Father can't enforce 5.a, they are required to perform visible eyeroll, but not just about his wife. It's got to be more of a sorry, WE-suck-a-nut look.

6: Subway Behavior

6.a: Everyone required to give up seats for pregnant women all the time.

6.b: No bikes, unfolded-strollers on subway except in case of emergency; humility and I-suck looks required.

6.b.1: Bikes and strollers must be in middle of subway cars, far from doors.

6.b.2: No one permitted to be a dick to individuals complying with 6.b. Try to give them your seat for the benefit of the greater good.

6.c: Try to help moms with strollers up stairs, but don't be lofty about it or act like you're jesus.

6.c.1: Stair-training on Subway stairs is prohibited.

6.d: No one, including Dominicans, should have more than 3 kids, and certainly not on the subway. Can't...resist...racial...humor. Will delete.

General rule 1: If kid does something fucked up, parent has to apologize, not just get kid to say meaningless sorry while they're on their cellphone.

General rule 2: Non-parents should feel encouraged to give a little constructive criticism to kids - it's good for 'em. Parents shouldn't freak out if non-parents do this in a non-psychotic manner.

Welcomed Example: "Careful! That was my foot and you should say sorry."
Unwelcomed Example: "Careful! That was my foot you little inbred crotchfruit minicunt."

Nanny note: There's no point in making rules for nannys cause they don't give a fuck, and have nothing to gain by making the neighborhood more peaceful. If you see a nanny being a fucking bitch, go report them.

Ok, whad I miss?

Due Process

All amendments must be received by this Sunday night!

Tits and Airlines

Sorry I'm late - just been up on 11th street and PPW with my spandex pants, wig, and video camera, waiting for it to rain so I could youtube up some of the manhattan girls when they came running out of the concert with their wet T-shirts. bouncy-bouncy.

Seriously, I was taking the F train home, and I noticed that there were a million more people than usual, most of them of the attractive young Obama-supporting class. I stopped in front of Dizzy's and asked this douchey looking coolkid whether there was a concert in the park. He said, with the respect one usually reserves for someone asking them what year it is, "uh - yeah? Feist? It's sold out." I was like... okay, well, see, I'M AN OLD FUCK so if it isn't BEETHOVEN or FUCKING DUKE ELLINGTON or DORA THE LATINA EXPLORER then you have to speak clearly and loudly, you douchey little twerp. Who the fuck is FEIST?

okcoolman - have fun with the hot chicks - I'll be at home soaking my cracked feet in Epsom salts, playing pinochle, and watching Chaplin films with my lantern extinguished. Funny thing is, I don't even miss being cool anymore. Weird how that happens, huh guys?

Anyway, let's get to it; yall see this shit?

So, let me get this straight; They get their fucking planes flown into the world trade center, get bailed out by the US government, have their business saved by the heroism/stupidity of US citizens returning to fly their shitty flights again even though their flight attendants are the RUDEST service employees in the service industry, (seriously, they make Dizzy's waiters and MTA Token-Clerks look like the Pizza Plus Lady) then they're nowhere to be seen on this fucking flight for an HOUR AND A HALF while people sit on the plane with no air conditioning, no water, and screaming kids, then they finally arrive, people boo them, and they retaliate like Israel.

They wouldn't fly?? They sent these poor people's luggage to JFK as a big fuck-you? man get the FUCK outta here. We need Reagan to come back and fire every single one of these people. They wouldn't do their fucking jobs cause they got booed?

Last year at yankee stadium during the playoffs, I told A-Rod LOUDLY so that he and the whole third-base-line crowd could hear, that while he was there not hitting the ball, my blackest friends were back at his house tea-bagging his wife. Did he walk off the field? Did he refuse to do his job? FUCK no. He recognized my feedback as legitimate criticism and continued to attempt to perform his duties.

Look at our commander and chief George W. He literally has the whole world booing his ass, but does the nigga hide, step down, capitulate? You fucking WISH.

Do your fucking job, you rude thankless babies. So ya got booed. (Listen, the only reason someone didn't rip off their shoe-they-had-to-check-through-security and try to break your face with it is because they're afraid of the Air Marshall filling them with lead or making them spend 10 years on Guantanamo per these USELESS precautions like crawling up old white people's asses to make sure they don't have nailclippers.)

Do your fucking jobs. Shame on you. Enough now.

Now, these precautions the airlines take are just retarded right? Always so stupid right? Reactionary and hysterical right? right? NO, not right, see I just wanted to get you to say that. Lemme tell you one quick story of how hypocritical I am. Pretty sure I saw some o' you muthafuckas on this flight as well, so own up.

I was taking the red-eye to Amsterdam with my wife and kids - this was '03. We're in the near-empty waiting area at the gate, and these 4 muslim dudes come in. They were probably 24 years old, and looked like they were plucked outta that photo. WHAT, they did - get the fuck outta here and stop lying like you don't think about it too. Anyway, they looked ANGRY. Not anonymous 1:06 williamsburg Internet angry, but Mohammed Atta angry. WHAT.

So, they set themselves apart and go sit in another COMPLETELY empty gate area, all by themselves, even though I know it's obviously going to be my luck that they're going to Amsterdam with us. So of course my kid is walking around, and starts to wonder over to them. Talk about a time for parenting - I was walking behind her, but didn't steer her away. (!?) She gets close - not quite boxcutter's distance, but close enough for discomfort, and they look up at her. I GIVE THEM THE ISN'T HE CUTE FACE! Hypocrite!!!

They looked at me with an anger, again not like williamsburg anonymous 1:06, but like they are literally writing us at the top of their book of death. Those will be the ones we slash before we storm the cabin.

So, the look was so scary - those of you honest enough will have to take my word for it. Again, take the comments about how racist I am and how great you are, and shove 'em up your imaginary muslim-best-friend's ass. The look was so scary, especially in '03 with the start of the Iraq war, I was just shitting myself.

So we get on the plane, and the Muslim guys get on too of course- and they were SO rude to the "hello-committee" that I was astounded. And I live in Park Slope and go to Dizzy's regularly! The bright-eyed Virgin Atlantic Hostess gave them the full Welcome!! - in an english accent and shit - EXTRA enthusiastic since they're Muslim and you have to kiss their ass to make sure everyone knows how safe you feel around Muslims on a plane, and these guys almost spit on her.

Seriously, I started to get a touch of the stomach cancers. So we're in our seats for an extra long time, not moving, no announcements, just waiting. I look over at my politically correct wife who will hate this whole post, and she's SHITTING her pants. Jesus, Brooklyn people are so full of shit - My wife will like, go to meetups for muslims, fight with our parents at the dinner table, blahblahblah, but when the shit hits the fan, and she's on a flight with psychotic looking muslims, she shits her pants just like the rest of us.

Finally, WHITE SCOUT'S HONOR, some non-uniformed suit guy gets on the plane, and marches the muslims off. NO FUCKING SHIT. And I was like... omg... THANK GOD. And so was my wife, even though she'll lie about it now. Thank god SOMEONE is smart enough to racially profile, even if they have to crawl up old white ladies' asses on the security line for show.

Now lemme ask you this - statistically speaking, there's no way these guys were terrorists. So what the FUCK is wrong with them? EVERYONE was on their best behavior on those flights in '03, and we were nowhere near the terrorist profile group, and these guys who fit it exactly have to act like psycho cocksuckers? Did they want to fly to Amsterdam or not? THAT was the time to make their political statement about how much they hate Americans?? Are they fucking crazy? I hope they were undercover Salon reporters or some shit, trying to get kicked off the flight - otherwise, they're either truly psychotic or just retarded.

It's amazing that the rest of us were willing to fly NAKED if we had to, to conform to the security standards, and they just act indignant and clueless. Like I saw this muslim dude with a BIG ASS backpack on a packed F-train, right after the Madrid bombings, muttering to himself with an Arabic book open in prayer or something. I'm like, nigga you have got to be FUCKIN with us. What is your fucking problem? Are you a dick or just retarded?? Again, see the Burkagate post - my black and jewish friends are willing to suck the white dick for the greater good - why aren't they? (To be fair, I do have an Egyptian friend from Jersey who says, "my man, SEARCH my shit all day at the airport - do WHATEVA - I understand I fit the profile, do what yall niggas need to do. He's the man. Learn.)

Ya gotta figure that at those NYPD meetings for Lincoln Tunnel checkers / Airline screeners / Subway Bag Checkers (Seriously - violation of our fourth amendment rights and I'm hypocritically APPALLED) / PORT screeners - you gotta figure there's some smoking x-files man that comes in at the end of the conference and says "Look. Search all the white ladies you need to so that it looks fair. But if you let an angry lookin muslim drivin a truck into the tunnel without searching him, you're fired." We can only hope.

Alright, I'm done- go do the thing where you send me threatening emails and condescending comments. I could give a rat's ass- I'll be here wanking to my new concert video.

Ask Blognigger: What the fuck did you just do to my pigeons?

Jesus, if I see another question about watermelon, black parents, black penis, black peanuts, black people, I'm gonna vomit. Unintentionally, I'm saying, not just to stay trim and keep fit like a good girl.

No one sent this shit in, but it's still an Ask Blognigger cause ask Blognigger she did:

I was coming back from C-town with this psychotic fucking load of groceries that my wife made me buy. What about Fresh Direct? What about Fairway? Nope, we were "right there" and so my wife made us buy all this crap from C-town, and then I'm pushing all this shit up the hill like sisyphus. We have about 8 bags of shit tied to the stroller like a homeless person with a stroller. The stroller is a double-stroller (don't wet your pants, Child-Free individuals, it's a "Phil and Ted" which means it stacks vertically like a London doubledecker, not side-to-side like a sidewalk-hogging cunt) so it's heavy to begin with, but pushing that shit up a hill loaded with C-town bricks we don't need, it's like a joke.

Finally we get to 7th avenue, and I'm winded, but my wife is on her phone metaphoring up the next check I'll have to cash, so we don't even break for a second. We're trying to cross the street to the far side of 7th ave, and the light starts flashing red, so on the contrary we hurry up.

Now, on the other side of the street, just by the gutter in the crosswalk, are roughly four billion pigeons. I look up to see which lonely, ready-for-death crone is responsible, but instead of seeing the cast of Cocoon, there's a fairly standard looking park slope white woman who looks like she's about 36. She's tossing little crumbs of shit at them, and they are swarming around her like thousands of winged fathers she never had.

There was nothing I could do - I'm generally the kind of person who doesn't like to remove happiness from people, period. But in this instance, I was pushing a fucking sherman tank up the road with cars about to hit me in the ass - and she's in the motherfucking crosswalk! So I just kept going and going and going slow motion until BAM I fuckin plow into those pidgeons like the ULTIMATE jumping into a pile of leaves experience I never got to have since I grew up in Manhattan with the Puerto Ricans.

Those things scattered like the back kitchen of Uncle Moe's when the INS shows up. It was like the full strike I've never bowled. The lady was left naked and lonely, with all her sellout ratfriends gone to the next crazylady.

She looked up at me and said - NOT like a crazy lady - like a regular park slope co-op member, "Oh, thanks a LOT." and glared at me like I just took a dump in her car. The physical stimulus was even enough to make my wife look up from her phone. I looked at the woman in disbelief and she said the title of this post. "Ask Blognigger: What the fuck did you just do to my pigeons?"

"Your Pigeons?!? Are you fucking crazy - this is a SIDEWALK?" Two for one special on the word Fuck! She said it in front of my kids, so I figured I could say it too.

"Yeah, well, thanks a LOT" she said, and started to walk away down 7th avenue. "Fucking BREEDERS!" she said. Fucking Breeders! Like a regular gawker reading gen-x Nadercunt. Jesus fucking christ this internet is empowering the stupidest fucking people on the planet.

"It's a FUCKING SIDEWALK you psycho" I had to scream at her while she was walking away. Shut up, it's not logical, how the hell should I know. No, I don't think I'm going to teach her anything, or make her realize, "oh it's a sidewalk! I'm a dumb psychodyke! Thank you blognigger!" but I had to let that chemical out - a blog just doesn't cut it for the realtime ragevalve violation.

So in summary, that's my answer. Ah jesus, now my OCD will demand I stick to the format afterall:

Astute reader Pigeon Lady asks:

Dear Blognigger,

What the fuck did you just do to my pigeons?

Hi Pigeon Lady, I'm glad you asked:
It's a sidewalk, you crazy fucking bitch.

Her pigeons. Gimme a fucking break.

Chaos: What is at stake.

Listen, I'm glad everyone is taking the Declaration seriously; I'm being careful not to be alarmist here, but if you had ignored my warnings on this we all probably would have wound up FUCKING DEAD.

One more round of applause for Gawker for its crucial role in raising team consciousness about these sorts of critical social issues.

Now, it's good to see both species getting along nicely in the comments section - but before we start kissing each others nuts and settling down for a game of "whose is mushier," let's take a second to look at the work that is still before us:

• Take until Friday to finish recommending concrete shit that you want in the Declaration. Be Specific! Take the general comments e.g. "Park Slope has too many kids!" print them out, stuff them into a condom, swallow it, have a coffee and watch a Tivo'ed episode of Lost, and then pull your comments out of your stool.
  
  
• Please review the existing comments and complain about ones you think are stupid. Suggest alternatives.
  

• I'll condense the amendments over the weekend.
  
  
• We can have a final arguing session on Monday, and then we'll publish the final document.
  
  
• We have them printed and pay an asian delivery guy to deliver them like menus to every house in the neighborhood.
  

If we don't, if we just get bored and go start searching for cutting-edge pr0ns, CUTTING edge, like Arod banging Madonna with mini-me in the corner smackin it – ALREADY – if we go and start getting distracted with that shit, and give into chaos, then we face situations like this:





This happened because there were no goddamn rules. The situation was left open to interpretation because there was no stern, enforceable, standard operating procedure:

The father was not fulfilling his duty to make sure that the mother was constantly reminded of objective outside forces. Left to her own processing, the exhausted park slope mom, near suicide because she couldn't physically bear having to fight with her daughter screaming and screaming in the damn Mclaren any longer, just let her poor child wander around like she was surrounded by servants with soft pillows strapped to their chests, instead of hardened black criminals. LOOK AT THE FUCKING RESULTS.

And aside from litigious shitstirring, look at the kind of subsequent indignities the dancers had to face as soon as the film stopped rolling:

oh snap son - is the girl ok?
you monkeys danced your monkeydance right into her goddamn head!

(the adrenaline created in this situation is chemically identical to truth-syrum. See Harriet Christian for more information.)

We have to get these rules right before all our Children, Parents, AND Childless Individuals are repeatedly kicked in the head by gigantic blacks.

Okay, enough of this political shit - I gotta go get my minstrel suit back on and crank out some more Blagrid stories before the oldschoolers get restless.

peace.

The Declaration of Co-Dependence

WE THE PARENTS of Park Slope and the surrounding vicinity hereby declare our realization that we and our children can, at times, be annoying as FUCK. We are naturally compelled to value our children's feelings and well-being above all else, frequently to the exclusion of our consideration for others, our capacity for courtesy, and our common sense.

Notwithstanding this concession, it is our observation that our Childless Neighbors are prone to aggressive and rude responses to our faux pas, which often far outweigh the damages caused by our initial slights of manners in the first place.

It is from this dichotomy, and for the inalienable truth that our two species must co-exist and co-depend on one another in this neighborhood, that WE THE PARENTS propose these official tenets of behavior, in order that we may ease relations through the removal of situational interpretation via the creation of the following standard operating procedures:

Article I: Sidewalk Behavior

I.a.1 - Parents with strollers shall not occupy more than 66% of the width of a given sidewalk's walking area, except for periods of less than ten seconds when passing jutting storefront artifacts such as elongated entranceways, outdoor eating areas, or subway stations.

I.a.2 - As mothers, especially new mothers, are often hormonal masses of cluelessness, fathers will be responsible for a family's compliance with article I.a.1. Childless Individuals are urged to take special note of these characteristics of a mother's mindstate, and to factor this understanding into their reactions to violations of Article 1.a.1; a mother's failure to make room for you on the sidewalk does not derive from her arrogance, though it may easily be mistaken for such; said failure is merely motivated by obliviousness due to lack of sleep, individual freedom, and the chemical demand of continual and exclusive focus on her children.

I.a.3 - In cases where Article I.a.1. is violated, Childless Individuals are requested to keep a sense of propriety and a sense of humor regarding the violation. It is recommended that a victim of this violation simply blurt "careful!," "'scuse me!," or even "Article 1!" - but should attempt to refrain from getting bent outta fuckin shape: There is no reason to shoot the mother a psychotic Billy Corgan look, act like a self-important fuckin douche bag, or invoke hatred and negativity as if someone just flew a 747 into your office building. At the end of the day, is getting where you're going 30 seconds earlier really worth all that? Don't worry - I guarantee you'll still get home in time to watch the new episode of The Cunt - and if you don't you should have Tivo'ed it; either way it will be on In-Demand in a couple of days at most.

I.b.1 - Children who ride scooters, skates, bicycles, skateboards, or rollerblades on sidewalks, must be carefully monitored by their parents. It is unacceptable for parents to allow their children to create unsafe sidewalk conditions by violating common sense in this situation.

I.b.2 - In the case of a violation of Article I.b.1, parents are hereby forbidden to make the "isn't he cute face" at the victim of the violation. This is in strict accordance with The Universal Axiom: "Nobody Thinks Your (fuckin) Kid is Cute But You."

I.b.3 - In benign cases of sidewalk riding, e.g. a 5-year-old girl merely riding a pink-princess scooter down a side street, smiling in the warm summer sun, and through necessity approaching the spot where a Childless Individual is walking, said Childless Individual is requested to not act as though they've just seen their fucking grandparents murdered by Joeseph Stalin. This is a fucking neighborhood, in fact it's Park Slope, and there are going to be fucking kids on the street. This especially goes for big angry dykes, skinny single white people with tight black jeans who think they are fuckin Quentin Tarantino, and angry greying hippies and gay men: Get the fucking sticks out of your asses - it's a little girl on a scooter, not a fucking escaped war criminal from Neurnberg. Remember, if you're going to go ape-shit every time you see a kid in the neighborhood, you are PROVEN RETARDED by the Arnold Schwartzenegger postulate of Q2 '08.

Article II: Restaurant Behavior

II.a.1 - As a general tenet to guide behavior in restaurants, parents agree to abide by The Universal Axiom: "Nobody Thinks Your (fuckin) Kid is Cute But You." For example, in the situation where a family is at a booth directly behind another booth containing 2 Childless Individuals, parents are forbidden to make the "isn't he cute" face to the Childless Individuals as their child stands on the seat and drools at the Childless Individuals over the booth divider.

II.a.2 - Fathers are (again) required to act as the guardians of Article II.a.1, as mothers cannot reasonably be expected to realize that Childless Individuals will fucking VOMIT from watching their kid drool canned corn over the divider.

II.b.1 - Clueless slacker Gen-Y waiters are urged to realize that kids are fucking time bombs, and if they aren't screaming and crying yet they will be soon - please get our family's order chop chop boys, and get us the food, and then the check, and let us get home, and don't be dickin around like we're a couple of melodramatic ambiance-seeking divorcees on a first J-date.

II.c.1 - Infants / Babies / Toddlers who shriek at > 9Khz for more than 60 seconds are required to be removed from earshot of a restaurant's common eating area, regardless of circumstance or time-of-day. Parental facial-expressions attempting to elicit sympathy from Childless Individuals in this scenario form grounds for lifetime bans from ALL Park Slope restaurants.

II.d.1 - Children are allowed in ALL Park Slope restaurants before 8pm, including Blue Ribbon and Presto.

II.d.2 - The following is a list of grace-period restaurants that shall permit children between the hours of 8pm and 9:30pm:

• Pizza Plus
• Bonnie's Grill
• Purity Diner
• Aunt Suzie's
• Two Boots
• Song
• Red Hot II (punishment for closing)
• Grand Canyon
• Yamato
• Tutta Pasta (let 'em have it)
• Rancho Alegre
• Joe's Pizza
• Amin
• La Taqueria
• Uncle Moe's
• Two Boots

II.d.3 - Children are not permitted in any Park Slope restaurant after 10pm. Anyone tryin' to get laid by shelling out 200$ at Sette at 10pm shouldn't have to listen to a fuckin kid screaming - I don't care what neighborhood it is.

II.d.3 - Bar amendment: If you are a parent, you know by now that part of your life is over. Well, it's this part. Bars are places for people to get wasted, get irresponsible, and praise jesus one in a million: get laid. Children are hereby forbidden in ANY Park Slope bar, with the exception of the little shitty one in the front of Two Boots. If this disturbs the wacky 4 locals I always see hanging out there, talking to the Hawaiian shirt guy and that hot chick - what the hell are you doing there so much anyway? You remind me of the girls in my high school that used to mysteriously hang out in the nurse's office. Parents are urged to recognize the ludicrousness of bringing KIDS into a BAR. These establishments are the last vestiges of a neighborhood that is owned by children, and they shall henceforth be respected as such. If you must think in selfish terms for your own species, and can't just do it for the Childless Individuals, do it for the fathers at the end of their ropes. Do it for the poor couples who have finally managed to afford a babysitter for a single regressive evening. One day you too will require respite.

Article III: Bookstore Behavior

III.a.1 - no children shall be allowed in the following bookstores:

• Community Bookstore / cafe - 143 7th Ave between Garfield and Carroll
• Park Slope Books / used & rate - 200 7th Ave between 2nd and 3rd

III.a.2 - no complaining about children, including dirty looks / muttering, shall be allowed in the remaining park slope bookstores, including:

• 7th Ave Books / new,used, out-of-print 202 7th Ave between 2nd and 3rd
• Barnes & Noble 257 7th Ave

Barnes and Noble is a fucking circus. Childless Individuals, if you don't expect it to be a fucking circus and you go there anyway, you're retarded. Stay at home on fucking amazon if silence is so goddamn crucial. This isn't Alexandria; You're in Park Slope and this kind of clueless behavior puts you in danger of being deemed RETARDED by the Arnold Schwartzenegger principal of Q2 '08.

Article IV: Movie Theater Behavior

IV.a.1 - Children shall not be permitted in movie theaters after 8pm. It is recommended that non-Puerto Rican parents who bring their children into movie theaters past 8pm submit themselves for dna testing to determine whether trace amounts of Puerto Rican genes do in fact exist in their lineage.

IV.a.2 - In general, movies with a rating above PG are not for children. No children of any kind shall be permitted in movies with a rating of PG-13 or greater.

IV.a.3 - Childless Individuals, if attending G-rated movies that appeal to them, such as "Wall-E" or the re-release of The Sound of Music (hello gay friends of Liza Manelli), shall not act surprised and indignant if kids talk during these movies. You're at a fucking disney film, shrivel-nuts. Stop acting like Mr. Burns and support the survival of the human race for a change.

Article V: Supermarket Behavior

V.a.1 - Fathers especially realize that mothers in Supermarkets are astoundingly selfish. The most common problematic practice of a Park Slope Mom is to leave her shopping cart, with child, in the middle of an aisle whilst she goes to compare the prices of Wheat-Free Penne. If the mother was not missing the functions of a crucial piece of her brain, she could pull the cart closer to the Wheat-Free Pasta shelf, and allow easy access for all.

V.a.2 - Fathers are charged with making sure that the situation described by Article V.a.1 is remedied as quickly as possible. In cases where Fathers are physically unable to alleviate the problem, (e.g. he is physically blocked by the victim's shopping cart and unable to move his wife's shopping cart out of the way) the father will be required to perform an eye-roll, a slight head shake, or some other body language that communicates to the victim that he/she is in the right, that the father is sorry, that the mother is a selfish retard, and that the whole debacle is but a symptom of a hell the father has to live with every day.

Article VI: Subway Behvaior

VI.a.1 - If you're on a fucking F train and a pregnant woman gets on, give her your fucking seat. Who the fuck RAISED you?

VI.a.2 - Don't bring your big-ass fuckin BIKE on the train at rush-hour, douche. (unrelated)

VI.a.3 - Parents are urged not to bring strollers onto the train during Rush Hour. If you absolutely must violate this directive, parents must make sure their stroller is folded. If you absolutely can't fold the stroller (e.g. you have 2 kids with you and the stroller-bound kid isn't walking yet) then you should recognize that you are unfairly taxing the system. You will be permitted on the train, but should show humility by moving as close to the middle of the train as you can (i.e. not blocking the doors), keeping your head down, and NEVER giving an "isn't-he-cute" face to the commuters who are the victims of your violation.

VI.a.4 - Douchebags getting angry at parents in violation of VI.a.4 - don't be such fucking assholes. You have no idea what the circumstances are here, so try and have a heart. If you are physically able to, give your seat to this parent, as it will make more room for everyone involved if this stroller can be up against a seat.

VI.a.4 - If you have more than 4 kids on the train on a regular basis, then what the fuck are you doing? Why do you keep having fucking kids and then bringing them on the subway? Dominicans are excused from this question and Chassid's aren't; just because.

VI.a.5 - When entering / leaving a train station, if a Childless Individual is physically able and is NOT in a rush, (i.e. you will NOT expected to make yourself late for an important meeting in order to uphold Article VI.a.5) you are requested to help women with heavy strollers up/down the stairs. What's your fucking problem? Think of your mom or your sister struggling with a stroller and depending on the kindness of a stranger. Send me a .jpg of your tarred, deflated, wrinkled black heart.

This Declaration, and the laws of Park Slope which shall be made in pursuance thereof; and all treaties made, or which shall be made, under the authority of the Brooklyn, NY, shall be the supreme law of the land; and the judges at every streetcorner shall be bound thereby, anything in the Declaration or laws of any neighborhood to the contrary notwithstanding.

[Would you ratify this Declaration? I'm interested in your opinion, so please take a moment to vote in the poll on the right-nav. Voting ends next Sunday night.]