In just a few short weeks since its Feb. 8 birth, the poorly Photoshopped poodle in the conspiracy-theorist tinfoil hat that was looking to amass more Facebook fans than Glenn Beck accumulated nearly 300,000 followers. But as it turns out, the Facebook fuzz were none too pleased with the bitch’s rabid rise to fame—so they “publish-blocked” the page.
No more post updates or soliciting fans in other Facebooky ways. And absolutely no more making poor Glenn Beck feel inferior to a canine.
Facebook’s explanation (see below) for disciplining the pooch is essentially that a fan page needs to be devoted to some kind of real commercial enterprise. Meaning the page needs to be a legitimate channel for a business or cause. You know, like these:
Thanks for making your policy clear as the driven snow, Facebook. Voting for dogs is bad. Megatron on birth certificates, good. Disliking Nickleback, fucking perfect (really, it is).
Sucks to be dog that can’t bark at someone it doesn’t like.
We need to talk about why it’s not a good idea to recite your vows with a bunch of feathers wrapped in a sheet. We need to talk about why it’s not cool to bed the bedding .
Let’s start with the obvious: This whole marrying a pillow thing really makes you look like a nerd. I mean, if you’re going to fall in love with a pillow, don’t go through the humiliation of a real wedding. Relatives will talk. And laugh. And talk about having you committed. Live together, dude. It’s not like traditional values are holding you back.
Second, if you’re going to put a picture on your fluffy little bride, don’t pick the chick from Pokemon. When you marry a pillow you can pretend it’s anyone. Get an iron-on of Halle Berry or Taylor Swift of any of the girls from the new 90210. All much more acceptable.
And finally, Lee Jin-gyu — sex. We can only assume you’ve never had it. So when you and your newlywed consummate your marriage, be sure to wear a pillow case. You never know who she’s slept with.
Yep, after emptying the pockets and purses of 11 gun-facing, pant-shitting victims, she walked away with enough ill-gotten gain to buy a Starbucks latte.
Ma’am. We know there’s a recession going on and people don’t have a lot of cash on hand. But certainly you can do better than this. So the next time you decide to pull out the sawed-off, don’t rob an unemployment line or a soup kitchen. People there don’t have much to give you. No matter how close you point that gun.
And if you’re thinking of yelling, “Hold ‘em up,” you might want to consider doing it to someone other than the fragrant gentleman wrapped in a newspaper in an alley. He’s a little cash-strapped too.
They say crime doesn’t pay. You certainly proved it.
A Wichita, Kansas dope addict who was low on foo-foo dust and even lower on cash, decided to pay his dealer off in Monopoly money. You know, those little pink and yellow and blue pieces of paper that look nothing like money at all? Yeah, he tried to pass that off as legal tender.
Guess what a wad of Rich Uncle Pennybag’s cash buys you on the mean streets of Wichita? A head caving, that’s what.
The crackhead, upon issuing his payment in cute little 100’s, proceeded to get a beat down so severe it would make a Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robot cringe.
Memo to druggies: dealers don’t take kindly to pretend money. Nor, are they very interested in giving you a bag of blow in exchange for a metal thimble or tiny little iron. So if you want to get all jacked up on Beemers, rob a bank or something. It’s a lot less risky.
The bloodied suspect, when discovered by police, went directly to jail. He did not pass go. He did not collect $200.
As if you needed another reason to wanna deck this twat.
“Thank you for calling Verizon, how can I completely piss on your day?”
Legendary for achieving customer dissatisfaction, Verizon recently stooped to a new low by refusing to disconnect the telephone service of Bill Young, a West Virginia man who went six feet under in June 2009. It wasn’t until last week that Verizon cut off the service after numerous phone calls from Cynthia Lacy, the man’s daughter, and a complaint to the media.
Sucks to be dealing with the soulless pricks at Verizon while your father’s soul is en route to dealing with Judgement.
Cynthia even sent Verizon a copy of her father’s death certificate to try and stop the service. But the saga continued.
“Can you hear me now?” they persisted.
“No, I’m fucking dead. Now shut off my damn phone!” Young wished he could say.
The obvious lesson here is that if you thought “We never stop working for you” was just Verizon’s slogan, well, they’re really serious about the “never” part.
The Faaaabulous set on the Gaza Strip is pulling their well coiffed hair out today. Why? Because Hamas, the unofficial fashion police in Palestine, have made it illegal for any man to work at a beauty salon.
For every young boy who dreamed of wielding a blowdryer or giving a perm, this spells trouble. Now their only career choice is grabbing an AK47 and making the entire Middle East nervous as hell.
And for every woman who decides to unwrap the sheet from their head, it’s double sucky. Because when they do, it’s going to be a Lady Gaga sort of Bad Hair Day.
Someone needs to call Amnesty International. Because this kind of style torture just ain’t cool.
A New Zealand man who claims two ghosts were removed from his house and are now captured in vials of holy water is selling the spirits on an internet auction website.
The seller, known as Melvin S on www.trademe.co.nz, says that until an exorcism was performed by a spiritualist, Casper and Slimer would terrorize him by switching lights on and off, scaring the dog and moving crap around the house.
He says the holy water he’s auctioning off used to be clear but now it’s blue because the spirits are inside. And he’s selling the bottles of bullshit…er…blue shit for approximately $1,200 US.
To the gullible rich imbecile who buys the bottled spirits, we hope they’re real. So real that they turn your house into a Hitchcock-esque paranoia-filled nightmare that never stops, scaring the bejeezus out of you so bad you never sleep. Because if you ever had any desire to get a wink of shuteye again, you would have had the common sense to buy a much cheaper bottled spirit. Which goes by the name of Jack Daniels.
Sucks to be arrested for a DUI when you’re a Senator.
Sucks to be arrested for a DUI when you’re a Senator leaving a gay nightclub.
Sucks to be arrested for a DUI when you’re a Senator leaving a gay nightclub which you shouldn’t be at because you are publicly known as a fierce opponent of gay rights.
Sucks to be you, Hypocrite Roy Ashburn (R-California). Because you are so never going to get laid by another dude again.
We don’t have to tell you that New York City has a history of landing planes in places that aren’t runways. Just as Cap’n Sully and Osama bin Dickhead.
Which makes this story really perplexing. It seems that a couple weeks back, an air traffic controller at JFK Airport brought his little munchkin into the tower. And instead of setting him up in the corner with a DVD player and a copy of “Dora The Explorer,” he put him to work.
Yep, Dad let his mini-me kid guide the planes for takeoff.
Sucks to be screaming “FUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!” as your stewardess hands you your complementary beverage and bag of peanuts.
Seriously, Dad. You have the presence of mind to manage 197 airplanes simultaneously, but you can’t manage to land the kid at the babysitters? Really. I know it’s all fun and games to have your little one at work with you. But at some point you have to quit being the cool father, and start being the AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER.
It’s a freaking miracle that your apprentice didn’t land those planes on the Chuck E. Cheese’s parking lot or the Toys ‘R’ Us roof.
So next time school is canceled, do us all a favor, and do your job. Because while kids in planes are annoying, kids guiding planes is just plain stupid.
The only way this news report out of Canada could be more ironic is if pianos were falling out of top-floor windows onto pedestrians while the building was engulfed in flames after being hit by a wayward comet.
In just a few short weeks since its Feb. 8 birth, the poorly Photoshopped poodle in the conspiracy-theorist tinfoil hat that was looking to amass more Facebook fans than Glenn Beck accumulated nearly 300,000 followers. But as it turns out, the Facebook fuzz were none too pleased with the bitch’s rabid rise to fame—so they “publish-blocked” the page.
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A Riverside County, California woman went on a robbery spree, holding up 11 different victims.
The Faaaabulous set on the Gaza Strip is pulling their well coiffed hair out today. Why? Because Hamas, the unofficial fashion police in Palestine, have made it
We don’t have to tell you that New York City has a history of landing planes in places that aren’t runways. Just as Cap’n Sully and Osama bin Dickhead.
