Burger Butt Gets A Beatin’

If anything can be taken away from the following story, it’s that you should always look at your chair before sitting down:

Atlanta Police are investigating a brutal attack of a woman who says her two best friends turned on her and beat her for nearly two hours.

“She grabbed me off the couch and started hitting me,” said Myriah Pointer, 23.

Pointer was still bruised on Thursday, and she said she was still shaken from what happened to her last Saturday night. She says what started as a night of drinking with her two best friends turned into a nightmare.

She says her friends started beating her after she accidentally sat on one of the girls’ hamburgers.

“They held me down,” she said. “Took turns; stomped my face in – did all kinds of things.”

She says the beatings went on for two hours as she went in and out of consciousness.

Note the article says the victim sat on one of the girl’s hamburgerS. Not just one burger. Nope. More than one. Maybe three or four, who really knows?

A good rule of thumb is that if you are drinking with a woman, and the time comes for a snack, and the woman orders multiple burgers, excuse yourself and get the hell out of Dodge quick-smart.

It may very well be, considering the women are multiple burger eaters, that the women that laid the beatings on this poor girl weren’t so much punching the hell out of her as much as they were tenderizing her. For all we know, the poor girl was the next course.

Police are still looking into laying charges, and rumour has it that one of the girls has previously been charged with burgerlery.

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The Problem of World Hunger

The poor starving creatures of Toronto. My heart bleeds, and the tears gush down my face. I can hardly bear to type. O, Woe.

A generous reader of this blog has donated a garbage truck of restaurant waste for the growing Mitchieville Save the Toronto Seagull movement. I am confident that our plans to have more seagulls reach breeding season this year will occur. Thanks to the ongoing effort of the Mitchieville Toronto Seagull Refuge tens of thousands of seagulls will survive the harsh Toronto climate. Now, thanks to this angel, the protected seagull flocks can enjoy a mid winter gorging; surely this will preserve the flock at its present numbers, and give them an advantage in numbers and strength for the coming spring.

Thank you, Marc in Calgary.

A bronze plank in the Mitchieville Supreme Central Library has been designated. The unveiling ceremony is at 3:30 pm, on Thursday. Everyone is welcome. Liquor, Dope, and Whores will be available.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this. I care.

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The Problem of World Hunger

I burst into tears when I read about World Hunger. Nobody on Earth should be hungry. That is my core issue. When the world is fed, then all other problems will be solved. But it is not easy to forget the other creatures here that we share the Green Earth of Gaia with. They are hungry too.

I remember the first time I thought outside of the box and solved the problem of world hunger. I was in high school; I fed the parts of my lunch that I did not want to eat to a flock of seagulls. I was on a field trip to Toronto. Those poor seagulls. They reminded me of that book character, Jonathan Livingston Seagull. They appreciated the lunch supplied by the school board.

From then on, every time I came to Toronto, I found excuses to feed the sea gulls. When I went to University, I started to feed squirrels and ducks.

Actually, the University I went to had a bear in an enclosure in the big park that I walked through from home to campus. They do not have one now, but they did then. One weekend, I had had an argument with my, then girlfriend, when I had a good idea: I would take one of the shoes she had thrown at me and fill it with hamburger and give it to the bear. It worked! The bear snacked down on that! The shoe was shredded, as only a bear can do while chewing a shoe. I had taken a negative and turned it into a positive.

Instead of donating the ex-girlfriends wardrobe to some capitalist front clothing donation bin, I found different, cheap, easily available foods to stuff into items of clothing. Mister Squirrel likes peanuts stuffed into a pair of mittens. Raccoons like leftovers stuffed into gloves, socks, or shoes. Skunks like turned refrigerator foodstuffs.

As you are reading this, a difficult and challenging winter has descended upon our Outdoor-Canadians.

You can share your bounty, your privilege with them. If you are in Toronto, you can go down to the waterfront, where the sea gulls live. Throw them the contents of your kitchen green bin. When you have turned meats, you can put them in an old pair of gloves, or sock, or toque, and feed them to some ground dwelling rotten meat eater. Teach our fellow travelers on the Spaceship Earth that the Hand of Man is a handout, a handshake of friendship; and not an angry fist, raised in violence. Raccoons and skunks should see your mittens or socks and think happy thoughts of food, not bad scary thoughts of fear and flight.

My eyes are wet with tears and I cannot write any more.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this. I care.

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Diary of Irresponsible Government

Some think that the next large ground war will be fought here, in North America. They do not talk about it much. It is not the sort of thing you talk about as you wait in line for a coffee. I can understand that. You can have an opinion about lots of things, but you just do not talk about your opinions in a public place. Like waiting to buy something in a convenience store. You do not chit chat with a friend about your mutual interest in the Manson family. Or anything politically incorrect. You have to watch your tongue.

North America would make a great place of a large ground war. The Europeans certainly do not want have a second installment of the Second World War. Their governments are busy appeasing the Russians, Muslims, and whatever. Our layers of irresponsible rulers are caught up in fairy cake issues. Does the sound of trees snapping in the cold evoke Global Warming to you? The vanguard media are focused on rape culture, the never terrorist immigration vote, and defense of baby boomer defined benefit pensions. Irresponsible government is just that. You can fine tune the reasons it is failing, point the finger at whatever. The possibility, the probability, of the next large ground war being fought here is on the table.

Empires do not pass quietly in the night. Poland used to be a great power. Then came the deluge. How much did eroding the rights of the Cossacks contribute to this? Is this a comparable event to the present time? You know how history likes to repeat itself. Maybe the alienation of the police and military from the heads of irresponsible government will lead to a coup, unrest, or turmoil. Having a ruling elite that despises the police, the military, and, well, white people, is OK. History will not repeat itself. Sure.

Still, this is not something to chat about in public.
And to correctly envision the scenario in which it happens is a long and detailed analysis. Could anyone have predicted World War Two? Better yet, did anyone who foresaw World War Two not earn the odium of the politically correct of the time? Did the Jews of Eastern Europe heed the writing on the wall and absent themselves from the coming storm? Some did. And you, are you watching, let alone preparing, you privileged white racist, rapist, meanie? Anyway, I say that the next ground war will be fought here, in North America. But in a country without freedom of speech, where can I find the comforting, soothing words of reason to lance this boil of worry? Shut up, whitey. Pay your taxes.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this. I care.

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Make Mine A Combo

Street artist *Combo* was attacked by inner-city disenfranchised youth (who are still reeling from the effects of colonialism in Africa….oops, wrong disenfranchised street yoots) after he was told to take down his offensive *art*:

It seems like something one would be hard pressed to disagree with: the word “coexist,” written on a wall using a Muslim crescent as the letter “C,” a Star of David as the letter “X,” and a Christian cross as a “T.”

But in Paris, this particular iteration of the popular inscription—here, created by the street artist Combo, who also pasted a life-size photo of himself next to it—didn’t go down well with everybody. Le Monde reports that four young people asked the artist to remove it last weekend, and beat him up severely when he refused to do so.

Combo ended up with a dislocated shoulder and many bruises.

Ironically, the *artists* name is Combo, and the injuries he sustained are actually known as an *inner-city combo*. Although, the combo he received is actually called a Combo #3. A Combo #1 would have entailed a broken spleen, ruptured abdomen, and a broken ankle. Combo #2 would have involved two broken legs, a slit throat, and an ole fashioned beheading. So in a way Combo was lucky he didn’t get supersized, or we’d be reading about him in the obits.

If you are in a French slum and are graffiti-ing a wall, and four yoots tell you to remove it, don’t try to be a hero, do as they say and live to art another day. Coexist graffiti is not made for the walls of French slums, it is solely for the purpose of being stuck on the bumper of Prius owning old liberal hag women and effeminate middle aged men.

The Mayor has only had one bumper sticker in his life and it is as relevant now as it was when it first adorned his 1982 AMC Eagle – “Ass, Gas, or Grass – Nobody Rides For Free”.

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  • Wrote a rap song called “RPG Can’t Catch Me.” Dr Dre later rereleased it and renamed it “I Need A Doctor.”
  • Ripped the 254,985 page Beijing Yellow Pages in half with just his brute hand strength
  • In 1984, at a party in Bloomdale Ohio, Brian Williams met actress Bobbie Brown for the first time, took off his own underwear and threw them at her while mouthing the words, “You’ll remember me forever, bitch.”
  • At Fort Bragg, Williams made 254 soldiers Mac & Cheese dinner while only having 1 lb of Mac, and less than 50 grams of cheese
  • Punched Chuck Norris in the liver so hard it made Norris cry
  • After rescuing two fuzzy, squishy puppies from a burning house years ago, Williams trained the two dogs and they eventually won Best In Show
  • After a thug robbed Williams of his church money and shoved a snub-nosed .38 in his face, Williams went on to become the owner of the largest tree farm in the world. And he always made sure that war veterans never ever ever paid for a tree.
  • Williams invented pizza
  • After a slant play turned interception led to the New England Patriots winning the Superbowl, Brian Williams became incensed, as he had called in a running play to Pete Caroll to use
  • To this day, Brian Williams still reads poetry to “At Risk” youth, every Thursday evening at a library in New Orleans
  • After making a citizens arrest of the Boston bombers, Williams immediately flew home, went to his church, and donated 200 boxes of nails to help build a new rectory
  • After finding out it was going to rain on his wedding day, Williams rented a plane and seeded the entire sky over Wisconsin

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The driving experience in Toronto is a snapshot into the inner state of the great progressive experiment that is being heaved onto our heads by our irresponsible leaders. My observations are personal anecdotes, and completely distant from the standards of journalism and Global Warming science.

Being crafty, I live only a twenty minute drive from my place of work. I never have to take the major highways (401, DVP, 427, …) on my morning commute to work, nor on my afternoon return home. Ha ha, I have it easy! Not so. Since starting this commute, some six months ago, I count the number of driving infractions I see.

In Toronto, it is rare for a driver to signal lane changes or turns. From experience I watch their wheels to second guess where the progressive driver wishes to go. Every day for the last six months I have counted at least one failure to signal. Big deal you say. Indeed. Just drive on the defensive.

At night, the number of my fellow drivers who drive without headlights, without running lights, runs to one every two to three days. On one special occasion, there were two head lightless drivers. Big deal you say. Toronto is filled with street lights. Who needs head lights? For that matter, drivers in the progressive urban setting like to drive with their high beams on. This happens, oh, at least twice a week. And every day there are those with a headlight, signal, or tail light just not working.

In the early morning, before sunrise, the streets of Toronto have their share of joggers and cyclists. Even in winter. Joggers like to run on the road, with their backs to traffic, and wearing trendy black sports gear. This is the standard, not the exception. People walking dogs, though, they use the sidewalk. I have yet to see a cyclist who uses hand signals to indicate turns. The majority of cyclists will run stop signs and red traffic lights. They do not even slow down to give the illusion that they are aware of the peril they place themselves and others in. When the sun rises, the jogger and cyclist behavior is the same.

The Danforth is notorious for drivers driving backwards down the street.

Let us park. Anywhere. One may complain about the choked streets, sluggish commutes, and inexplicable delays. The Toronto driver is a scofflaw who thinks nothing of standing, stopping, or parking in Do Not Park zones. Delivery trucks will stop to deliver in dedicated right turn lanes … just check out St.Clair West any old day. Toronto has no parking during rush hour zones. Usually filled with parked cars. You can count them. I do. At least one a day; the record is seven.

Who cares? I know I don’t. I assume my fellow Toronto drivers are scofflaws. I expect them to turn left on red lights, barrel through stop signs, and open their doors in traffic. Let the other drivers, cell phone distracted, to plow into them. Let Darwin do his job, I say. Let the night joggers in black get plowed under by some darkened car. Let the cyclists get crunched by a door, squished by a left signal, right turn combination driver, or just crushed by a cell phone chatterer. I drive with caution, I drive slow, and I drive undistracted. You do the same. But what of all that money, that confiscated income, taken by the state to provide services? Is there not a constabulary responsible for enforcing the Highway Traffic Act? Some sort of impediment to the left turn on red light tribe, a watch dog to deter distracted drivers, an enforcer of parking laws? In my youth, the dominant white male patriarchy frequently pulled over wayward white devils for missing signal lights, rolling stops, and mid intersection parking. Today, are they asleep? Or just too busy with diversity seminars, and too wise to mess with the victims of the legacy of racism for fear of facing some hissing, spitting progressive white guilt slurper?

These transgressions occur daily, frequently, and across a short time frame. Do the math. If this is only a one hour slice of a narrow reality, then what is going on in the greater Toronto? The Toronto driver is a scofflaw, the roads are a death trap for the unwary, and the constabulary are career wisely avoiding confrontation in preference for the warmer classroom of bullshit meetings. Of course, I could complain to The Authorities. Sure. I could collect license plate numbers, makes and models. Sure. That would work. Do you think it would work? Do you think it would work to modify human behavior, make the streets safer, and generally bring about the rainbow utopia where unicorns roam free. My money is on silence. I will drive slow and cautious. Let Darwin do his job. Darwin works, and he is free. Traveller, be warned.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this. I care.

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No, this isn’t a post about Hillary Clinton misremembering that she was under sniper fire in Kosovo, and no, this isn’t a post about NBC misremembering editing a 911 call to make George Zimmerman look guilty, and this isn’t even a post about Elizabeth Warren misremembering that she’s an Indian. This is a post about Brian Williams misremembering that the helicopter he was on in Iraq 12 years ago was shot down by “enemy insurgents.”

And what better way to say I’m sorry than to misremember how to say “I Lied”?

“After a groundfire incident in the desert during the Iraq war invasion, I made a mistake in recalling the events of 12 years ago,” he said. “It did not take long to hear from some brave men and women in the air crews who were also in that desert. I want to apologize. I said I was traveling in an aircraft that was hit by [rocket-propelled grenade] fire. I was instead in a following aircraft. . . . This was a bungled attempt by me to thank one special veteran and, by extension, our brave military men and women, veterans everywhere, those who have served while I did not.”

Keep in mind that he had made the same mistake for 12 continuous years.

“I would not have chosen to make this mistake,” Williams told the newspaper. “I don’t know what screwed up in my mind that caused me to conflate one aircraft with another.”

What caused Williams to “conflate” was that he had lied for 12 straight years without getting caught and thought he could get away with it forever. Hell, he told the same misrememberating LAST WEEK.

In the hockey broadcast last week, Williams told viewers, “The story actually started with a terrible moment a dozen years back during the invasion of Iraq when the helicopter we were traveling in was forced down after being hit by an RPG.

Give him another 2 years and Williams would be telling the story how after his helicopter was shot down by “insurgents”, he went to the Presidential palace, found Saddam Hussein hiding in his linen closet, and proceeded to shove a Sharpie into his ball-sac.

The Mayor completely understands misremembering. Sometimes The Mayor forgets where he leaves his keys. Sometimes he forgets to throw the wet laundry into the dryer. One time The Mayor even forgot to turn off his lights on his massive SUV. Things happen. People forget. But misremembering that the helicopter you were on got shot down by “freedom fighters”, and then turn around and repeat that story for TWELVE YEARS? Ahhhhhhhh, no.

On the “importance scale of life” for The Mayor, Brian Williams ranks somewhere between Bruce Jenner’s sex change and a clutter of nasty weeds that grow in the backyard. Having said that, if Williams wants to *make right*, the first thing he needs to do is to actually say he is sorry. Forget all the misremembering talk, and all the bullshit-speak that weasel’s of his ilk are prone to saying. Just say sorry. And then move on. But somewhere between saying sorry and moving on, get some professional help, you crazy shit.

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Diary of Irresponsible Government

Mitchieville readers need to know the dangers of communicating with those subversives known to wear ‘tin foil hats’. Most of us ‘normals’ already have a healthy caution when it comes to dealing with these people. Avoid eye contact, say nothing, be agreeable, and keep yourself close to the exit. But the tin foil hat people are widespread. These are the casual contacts that bore at parties with yap about Global Warming even as people complain about the long, hard winters. There are the feminazis, those who find oppression in everything with testosterone, but nothing wrong with cultures that dress their women in potato sacks, castrate them, and keep them illiterate until they are stoned for lack of enthusiasm over forced anal sex. Perverts, deviants, criminals, and the otherwise stupid all celebrate the tin foil hat. And it is best to avoid them. They have human rights, don’t you know. But what is new and you should be aware of, to protect yourself from peril, are the factions that exist within the tin foil hat community. They hate each other. Violence is common. Unreported incidents that rival the numbers of unreported rape, racism, and subjugation of the Nigoons. And what are these factions within the tin foil hat community, you ask?

Some tin foil hat people are old school traditionalists who wear the tin foil shiny side out. Another faction has since appeared, those that wear the tin foil shiny side in. Do not ask why, as this could get you labelled a racist, misogynist earth rapist. This faction appears to be motivated by this article. Those academics at state funded skools o’ higher learning have discovered that shiny side out foil does not keep out all of the mind control rays. Hmmmm. So, be aware of the factions, and zip your lip.

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Go game the system, guys

Mitchieville is a place of caring. The tireless Mayor makes it his personal crusade to bring quality services to the good people of Mitchieville. There are no taxes in Mitchieville: funding for the municipality is taken from other jurisdictions taking advantage of the dim witted employment equity hiring of bureaucrats in these places. Despite our Canadian location, many foreign jurisdictions are happy to send us money to fund their pet projects. Since these programs are not results driven, we can squander the money as we see fit.

The Merry Funeral Home is just off the Ian Paisley parkway in downtown Mitchieville. Originally operated by William Merry, this fine commercial establishment has been repurposed into a research center tasked to spend progressive money. Just step inside to see the good work being done to advance Global Warming Science.

The first thing that strikes you as you walk in the door is the thick pall of cigarette smoke, the smell of beer, and the sounds of people having a good time. Indeed, the William Morris chapel looks a lot like a bar from the red tape free sixties. Liquor and beer are freely available: just order from Smiling Jack the bartender (and, incidently, the bylaw enforcement officer of Mitchieville). Instead of using that worthless paper money, you can exchange your privilege tokens. You pay no liquor taxes on beverages in Mitchieville: let the taxpayers of Baltimore pay, instead! There are merry table wenches to entertain you (thank you prison outreach program!). Dogs roam the room to gnaw bones and gobble up table droppings (thank you, dog park grants!).

Gather at the Mayors table. I usually order a traditional whole roast pig for my supper, to be washed down with a viking sized horn of beer. At the Mayor’s table gather his henchmen, minions, and research scientists. Ah, a meal fit for a Raubritter! As the beer and whiskey flows, as the table wenches come by on their stiletto heeled hooker boots, a warm feeling of contentment comes into your bones. This is the ultimate goal of progressive social spending, is it not? To make people happy? So to redirect funding from literacy programs for illiterates, rehabilitation for reprobates, and propaganda science is really, well, just a darn good idea.

After the example of the Wild Rose Quisling event, why bother with the political process?
Go game the system, guys. Your neighbors are doing it. You are not a half wit degenerate, so, for you, it should be easier.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this. I care.

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Is The Pope An Asshole?

Pope Francis, seen here before his workcation to Transylvania where he intends to slaughter 200 vampires with his cross ‘o death, was asked about the recent terrorist attacks in France that claimed 17 lives. Instead of giving the proper answer that terrorists are diseased cock-holes and will burn in hell right after they are smeared from head to toe with pig blood, gave this freestyle rap answer that can best be described as “An answer an asshole Pope would give“:

Pope Francis has weighed into the debate over freedom of expression in the wake of the murderous attacks in Paris, saying that anyone who insults a religion can expect “a punch in the nose”.

In provocative remarks which may cause consternation in France, the Pope said that freedom of expression had its limits, especially if it involved insulting or ridiculing religion.

You cannot provoke. You cannot insult the faith of others. You cannot make fun of the faith of others.”

Yes Francis, yes you can.

In the world of the civilized, religions are made fun of, faith is often insulted, and you can provoke. And particularly, freedom of expression doesn’t have the limits a dirty little commie Pope would like them to have.

Francis believes that anyone who makes fun of a religion “can expect a punch in the nose”. So much for turning the other cheek. Civilized folk turn the other cheek. Actual Christian’s turn the other cheek. Commie pukes and mentally deranged Islamists believe in punishing freedom of expression, believe in redistribution of wealth, and think that insulting a faith is worthy of an assault, or in the case of Francis’ friends, murdering 17 innocent people.

The Mayor is also sure Pope Francis believes in forgiveness. He seems to have already forgiven the murderers and psychopaths who carried out the French slaughter, but yet he hasn’t seemed to come around to forgiving those who perpetrated the heinous crime of insulting the Prophet Mohammad.

So the question/title of this post is, “Is The Pope An Asshole?” Obviously the answer is yes. Yes he is. He’s an asshole. A stupid asshole. A stupid asshole who probably fights like a girl.


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