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This is the reason why I'm an atheist. Because I don't want to be in the same club as this guy. And welcome to my page about stupid people. You statistically are likely to qualify, especially since you're on the web and probably happened upon this page while searching for HOT LATIN DONKEY PORN. Or maybe you're a wholesome parent searching the internet for pages to cite in your righteous fight against online smut. If that's the case, you should probably skip to the bottom where you can write me angry email and go back to hanging your damn pictures of babies dressed up like vegetables and flowers. I mostly made this page to single out easy targets for ridicule. I also made it so others could come and laugh at those people. At least until they get to the part that makes fun of them. So there's really no motive behind it. I just figured it would be funnier than me running outside naked swinging my unit around, but make the same point. Both are things I do just to prove to my penis is bigger than yours. |
Unfortunately, the people who are the easiest targets of ridicule usually have no idea of it, and need a big wang swung in their face. Maybe if this happened more often, they would stop annoying us with their morning talk shows, soap operas, and jazz. For a good example, here is a page I found during my 17th unsuccessful attempt at finding nude Spice Girls pictures: www.upbeat.com/family/cool.html (since this article was written, this site has thankfully been destroyed) It has nothing to do with the strangely arousing new new abdominal supporter belt to the right. It's just some page about how you're not supposed to fuck until you have a marriage license. Sure it's kind of funny that some people still do that, but I mostly showed it to you because of its address. Upbeat dot com and cool dot html? Their fucking html file is called "cool." Did they think they would trick a new generation of young people into abstinence with their hip language, or do they really think "cool" is the best way to describe a life without sex? I'm not saying I read the entire How to be Cool Handbook, but I checked the index for "not getting laid." It wasn't in there. However, a recent conversation between two high schoolers proved me wrong when one kid said, "You've never even had it once, man? That's pretty neato. You really are cool!" And I felt like such a lame loser when his girlfriend gave me a hand job behind the school bus.
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After my unsuccessful search for true coolness, I luckily saw this picture in the latest copy of Jesus Babes. This is Bryce Baxter, the kid who was voted "World Spokesperson of Cool" in a recent poll of his grandparents. "Oh Jesus. I'm trying whatever I can to get God to end the constant beating and humiliation at my school," commented the young hipster on his way to a youth group Bible quiz bowl. His team, The God Pound, later won that day and will go on to compete against the rich kids from Camp Godyssey in the Church Camp regionals. He is, of course, still being beaten and humiliated.
In a related issue, the Darwinians or "people that have read a
book" as I like to call them, have recently been dealt a deadly blow by the Christians as the famous Darwin Fish parody was cleverly mocked in the ongoing divine battle of bumper sticker one-up-manship. "Oh yeah! That fish is kicking your ass just like Jesus would!" cried a young Catholic boy while shaking a glow in the dark cross at the drawing of a fish that says Darwin.
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In retaliation for their recent defeat in the logo battle, the Darwinians were almost set to draw an even bigger Darwin fish eating the Jesus fish eating the Darwin fish spoofing the Jesus fish,
but thought a bumper sticker that busy would confuse motorists and cause accidents. The Christians were disappointed their "Oh yeah? Well back atcha, bitch!" argument had to end, and have gone back to making parodied slogans like "Got God?" and "Life is Short. Pray Hard." These are put on inexpensive t-shirts so crazy aunts and uncles can afford them even after giving all their money to TV evangelists. The retarded God youth wear other slogans on their body even less clever than those. In fact, there is so little effort put into their creation, I won't put any effort into making funny comments. Here's Carmen Electra's crotch.
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And if pictures of tiny metallic hot pants make you lust for companionship, you're in luck. Now there is Christian Single, a sexy magazine for lonely mythology worshippers. Proven to increase a Christian's
chances of getting laid from .032% to .044%, this is the leading publication for creating future dysfunctional families. With fascinating articles, hymnal lyrics, and feature articles of the latest Montana hermit who built a house out of bibles, Christian Single will give you hundreds of reasons why you're better than the Jews.
"The joy and pain of living a Christian life on ice are all too familiar to 1992 Olympic silver medalist and professional skater Paul Wylie." I think the joy and pain of Paul Wylie's life is pretty easy to find the source of. You can't get into figure skating unless you're gay, and the opposite is true about church. It's like being a fat skydiver, only not. |
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People are fucking stupid. Sure, I haven't met all of them, but so far I've found it to be true. How many times have you been harassed by a mentally challenged fat cop for something you didn't do? Well, we as a society decided that we should pay him to do that. We also now consider pro wrestling to be valuable political experience. Shit, some lady once got multiple millions of dollars since McDonald's didn't tell her her coffee was hot before she poured it all over her privates. This is a god damn world where people televise line dancing to country music. It doesn't take a social genius to see line dancing as something for ugly people with no rhythm or hope of finding a partner. And when television studios aren't filming 80 year old women in red mini skirts with matching cowboy boots, there are enough toothless mouth breathers sticking their heads inside alligator mouths for Fox to make "When Animals Attack" TV shows every single week. The saddest thing is that they always seem to survive to give their heartwarming testimonials like, "I tell ya, gator teeth feel mighty different on yer brain than they do on your hand, ha! Lucky I had me a firearm in my overalls. Yep. Twern't the gator's fault none, though. I'd be doin' it 'gain if my wife allowed, mm-hmm." Sticking your head in an angry animal's closing mouth shouldn't be something you look back on as a learning experience. In fact, there ought to be people there to finish you off just in case the alligator doesn't bite hard enough. Unfortunately, with all the safety regulations and medical procedures in this country, it's harder than ever for people to get killed. That's why you should always bungie jump in Mexico.
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| But sometimes people don't have time to wait for angry animals or freak carnival accidents to die, and have to take it into their own hands. Of course, even that is usually done badly. Heaven's Gate is a good example. They were the cult responsible for 2 months of uneducated parents giving bad anti-internet speeches on your local news after their stupid children were brainwashed into joining a cult by castrated high school dropouts. I thought they seemed nice. At least their ritual suicide saved us the time it would have taken to kick them until they died. It was also a very dignified mass suicide involving removing their testicles in order to ride a comet with aliens. Or something like that. It was a while ago, and I never watch the news without heavy doses of narcotics in my system. All I know is that when I go, it's going to be as a eunuch on a bunk bed next to a room full of psychos. That's how their fascinating apocalypse theories almost had me convinced. I was so close to moving to Waco with Charles Mansen and the Unabomber to chop off my manhood and douse myself with gasoline. It sounds insane now, but it doesn't seem as crazy as when I was a kid and my parents tried to convince me that a giant magical old man lived in the sky with all my dead pets. |  |
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Sometimes I wish I did turn off my brain when I was six like the rest of the world to live a useless second hand life. But I didn't get the same Conformity Instruction Booklet it seems like everyone else did. I was perfectly willing to keep this to myself too until I walked into an ice cream parlor and saw this flyer for a rubber stamp party on the wall. If anyone ever wondered what the inspiration for this stupid page was, it's this flyer. It should be blamed for most of what you are reading right now. No matter how I picture the events of a rubber stamp party, It scares me to death. I can't explain the visions of madness in my head, but imagine a mariachi band made up of midgets building penis shaped sand castles and reciting welding part shipping lists. That's as close as I can come. The party's real bonus for me would be to hear the saga of Jo Ann Trail as she discusses her year in Saudi Arabia. She'll probably have fun anecdotes about the time she was sold for half a camel, or second hand stories from the nice old man she sat next to on the plane. Oh, I hope she dresses up in the black arab ninja chick outfit and brings those fun slides! |
All stupid shit aside, It should be painfully obvious to anyone that this is just a bad front for an Amway recruiting party. After JoAnn is done showing off her new toll painting, she exits and returns with a white board. Then she starts giving speeches about impending financial success while drawing a very convincing pyramid of circles. "It sounds fascinating! But can even an introverted person with birth defects like me make money with it?" asks the fat woman JoAnn paid twenty dollars to earlier. After a couple more hours of circle drawing and estrogen, the entire room signs up to buy a warehouse full of window cleaner. And JoAnn smiles to herself. She knows that 2% of the net profit from every ninth bottle of Windex gets split between her and only 132 other people. "I will soon be rich," she thinks outloud with a small cackle. The rest of the room is too busy planning their future summer homes to hear her.Anyway, after I read the flyer, I knew I had to have it. It was a few days old, but I thought it would be polite to ask the ice cream scooping girl if I could keep it. She looked like she spoke English, but I must have had to repeat my question four or five times. I've found there is no one more confused than a food service worker when you ask them about something that doesn't involve food. So after a series of blank stares and "ums," I asked the same question in frat. I said, "Hey, uhhh...could I get this flyer to help me and my frat fund our trip to Canada? I'm a Delta Iota Kappa, and we get like 25 cents? for every rubber stamp flyer we can find. Yeah, we're havin' a big rubber stamp rager this weekend. It's gonna fuckin' rule. Full kegs. Shit. You know, if you came, I could almost guarantee you'll get your tits grabbed. Here's one free sexual harassment card. What do ya think? Free beer for chicks. Bring like 20 friends." Something inside her finally started working, and she smiled and asked, "What frat again?" That's when I grabbed the flyer and leapt through a plate glass window to make my escape. |
I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that puppets were responsible for most of my childhood fears. Not all of them. Some of them teach you how to count, and others jam cookies against the inside of their throatless mouths until they're destroyed in a flurry of crumbs. But then there are others who peer into your soul and expose your darkest secrets with a wicked dance. Children love puppets because they can relate to them so well. Mostly because parents all read How to Pull Your Child's Strings to Make Them What You Want. (This rant provided by Seanbaby's leftover teen angst.) Yeah, my parents thought they were child psychologists just like yours. But maybe I should save all my parent material for my upcoming Goth Poetry website. It's sort of a bitchy piece of shit like this one, but I wrote it while wearing a magician's cape and black fingernail polish. It's very macabre, and at the end of it, you can email Satan. But back to puppets. In one of my frequent internet searches for PUPPET ONLINE SALES NAKED, I found this quote on a now extinct puppet selling webpage:
"We look forward to the day when there will be a puppet in every home." - Carol Feierabend |
Who cares about some self-serving quote from a desperate puppet salesperson? Nobody, but I wouldn't feel right about letting something like that be said without a certain amount of ridicule. Is Carol really so deranged she thinks puppets are the next staple of household goods and it's only a matter of time before the world catches on? Are they finally going to start being acceptable wedding gifts? I hope so, because I'm tired of looking like an idiot when the bride unwraps my gift of a Gary Coleman ventriloquist dummy. I would buy them a blender, but when you have a warehouse full of Diff'rent strokes merchandise, you get rid of it where you can. You can't just throw those things away, they're like fucking ouiga boards. They'll always come back, and usually possess one of your friends and make your walls bleed threatening messages. And in case Gary Coleman puppets didn't red flag this page in the CIA database, COCAINE SHIPMENT CERAMIC GUN.
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A puppet in every home. Jesus. I always thought the "blank in every home" shit was supposed to be used for things like toaster ovens, wheelbarrows, and lava lamps. You know, things that you can't even imagine being without. I can imagine my home without a puppet. In fact, I think I prefer it that way. People aren't going to call their fishing buddies after church and say, "Yep. Finally broke down and bought the wife a puppet. She's been naggin' me for years now, and I just got tired of hearin' the bitch talk." Of course, with the way humans always try their best to sound funny by inserting jokes they didn't write into the conversation, this guy's fishing buddy would say, "It's about time, Chad! Way to join the rest of the human race. You're pelvic thrusting into the eighties!" Then they would have one of those huge laughs you can freeze frame and end a sitcom on, but right now I'd like to
talk about rodeos.
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I shouldn't hate rodeos. I should encourage them. They're the last real trace of Darwinism we have left besides auto racing. If you think things through and come up with the idea to get on a god damn huge angry horned animal, you probably deserve to get disemboweled. Why haven't we as humans adapted the, "don't piss off things nine times your size" trait yet? I suppose there are stupider things than hopping on an insane bull's back, though. You could dress up like a clown in tight unflattering jeans and try to get the attention of said crazed animal with annoying hand gestures and dancing. But I think the next quote does more to show rodeo's level of enlightenment both in the field of fashion and spiritualism than any shit I could come up with. You can click on this quote to be taken to the magical land of Southern Rodeos and maybe sign up to enroll in one of their "Bullriding and Bible Schools."
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"Southern Rodeos sponsors several Professional
Cowboys who have publicly confessed JESUS as their savior. Southern Rodeos provides these cowboys and cowgirls with some really nice embroidered shirts which say "Southern Rodeos" on one sleeve and "JESUS is LORD" on the other sleeve."-Billy Jaynes, President of Southern Rodeos, Inc. who decided several years ago to "allow GOD to use SRI to spread the GOSPEL of JESUS CHRIST." |
| Wow, Billy, those shirts sound like they could talk the pecker off a two wienered steer! ... I confess I never was great at the redneck similes, but I do know this. From now on, one of my sleeves is always going to say, "JESUS is LORD." Just think how many people are going to find God through my outerwear! This will be a better recruiting technique than Jesus licence plate holders! Bigger than sending Mormons to Africa! Actually, now that I think about it, every Mormon I ever met couldn't talk their way out of a gang wedgie. Never mind me, though, I'm just jealous of the whole polygamy thing. My girlfriend won't even let me make out with other chicks. That's why I'm thinking of joining the International Gay Rodeo Association. It's basically like normal rodeo, only the line dances are more complicated and fruity. |
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This is exactly what it looks like. Two gay men dressed up like country music singers preparing their livestock for sex. You probably won't find two guys jamming their underwear on a goat during a straight rodeo. I mean, goat sex is universal no matter what rodeo you go to, it's just that the gay people like to dress up the animals beforehand. Wow, maybe cowboys and gays do have more in common than just leather chaps. The following explains the IGRA's Goat Dressing event, and I think is a good example of why rednecks and homosexuals don't mix: "This two-person event was created specially for gay rodeo. The team stands 50 feet from the point where the goat is tethered. One of the team members has a pair of jockey-style underwear worn over their forearms. When the whistle sounds, the team runs to the goat. The team member without the underwear picks up the goat's rear hooves, grabs the underwear from around the other member's arms, and pulls it up the legs of the goat." |
 "Become a member in preserving the heritage of the American Spirit in the Gay and Lesbian Community. Let's Rodeo!" - Patrick Terry, International Gay Rodeo Association |
It thrills me to know that we're coming together as a world and that rodeos are no longer just a heterosexual mental abnormality. And while we're on the subject of healing the world, it's good to know that the KKK's plans of world domination are continuing to make strides in the community. As you can see, our friends from the clan are hard at work picking up highway trash. Do you realize that that means there are litterers out there that need the KKK to set a good example for them? Some guy on the highway right now is throwing a candy bar wrapper out the window and he looks like a bigger prick than the chinless inbred bastards who kill minorities for a living. Maybe. Or maybe the KKK cleans the highway to find trash to throw at jews. It's not like they could afford to go out and actually buy beer bottles and other projectiles. It seems like the most financial support the master and future dominating race can get are their Chick-Fil-A paychecks. Whatever the reason, stop throwing crap out the window. The KKK doesn't have time to clean up after your dumb ass. They have rifles to clean and water towers to climb, you selfish fuckers.
When the KKK was preparing their new surge of modern propaganda guaranteed to only get extraordinarily easily brainwashed people (this is a similar technique used by the Christians. See above), they asked around the barn for anyone with marketing esperience. The closest they could come was with local carwash attendant, Duke "Bubba" Whitman. Although he has no formal post-grammar school education, he claims to love the Super Bowl commericials and often films his own amateur President Day Sale car commercials in front of the abandoned vehicles in his father's lawn. He was the genius behind the "WHITE POWER" slogan and the convincing ad to the left. It's a cute thing to say at parties and a great way to make new friends. Provided they're white, of course. It makes people feel good about themselves, and it's so true. It's also really hard to argue with it since who can argue with simple reality? Not all racism is bad, though. Go here for an example of how to hate people the right way. With the healing power of laughter.Someone recently informed the clan that their outfits looked like a combination of ghost costumes and the dunce hats our grandparents were humiliated with in second grade. A young Alabaman boy designed a less embarassing costume out of long underwear and a cape, but the clan ran into legal problems with the cape. What I'm trying to say is that I think a girl scout troop has a better chance of conquering the world. They have better financial backing, more effective PR, and with all the girl scouts locked up in the closets of America, they already have allies on the inside. So I say ignore the KKK and declare war on the girlscouts! |
Maybe we should take out the Mothers Against Drunk Driving while we're at it. Isn't that a club about as useful as the American Society for Legalizing Bubble Gum? I don't know what MADD is trying to accomplish with their lobbying since I heard someone already made a law against drunk driving. Others felt the same way as me, and upon MADD's formation, a shocked world said, "Duh. Nobody's FOR drunk driving, ladies. Shouldn't you be watching your kids or baking or something?" Even so, MADD was still an inspiration for similar organizations that sprung up all over the country like WACK (Women Against Children Killing) and CABO (Cousins Against Bombing Old Folks Homes). My personal favorite is UIF7DW (Uruguayan Immigrants in Favor of the 7 Day Week).
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 The many groups in favor of drunk driving lobbied against David Beasley, but on voting day they were unable to cast their ballot as they died on their way to the polls. |
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During another of my web searches that always make me feel better about myself
and my bed wetting problem, I found out there's a cure for gay. That's right, if you let Jesus into your heart, he can fix that annoying case of homo you caught from watching too much WWF. You know, if you consider being a Christian a cure for anything. Just look here at the "Straight Paths" website (currently down)!
"No matter what sexual addiction or situation you may be struggling with -- pornography, masturbation, same-sex attraction, homosexuality, heterosexual lust, prostitution, voyeurism, exhibitionism, survivor of incest/molestation, phone sex, the internet, S&M, anonymous sex... Jesus Christ is the answer!" Jesus Christ is the answer to masturbation? Even I know that's inappropriate. Plus, I have a theory I'm working on. That is, if you are engaging in exhibitionism and S&M, you're probably not the kind of person who's going to pick Christianity as a lifestyle. Oh, and by the way, the exact quote from Romans 9:13 is, "And the Lord descendeth upon the fags, and said, 'thou art a bunch of queens, and I hate thee.' And then he struck them with a stick of 2 cubits of length." So they took a couple of liberties with the translation to the left. And as an example of the kind of intellectual giants you would be getting your remedial therapy from at the Straight Paths website, here is a sample story from their page. It's the tale of two Christian boys, one of them gay, trying to deal with the debilitating disease of fairy. Unmodified divinely inspired text will be on the left, while sarcastic belittling comments will be on the right. Oh, and also, everything the little queen says will be in pink. Please enjoy: |
| "Oh, I see what you mean," he interrupted, nodding. "I'm not a practicing homosexual anymore. Haven't been since I accepted Christ." | I used to have a club that practiced gay, but once we accepted Christ we had to stop. He kept making fun of us. Luckily, all the practice did pay off and one of our members finally entered into the Homo Pro League. His knees eventually gave out, and he was cut from the Oakland Flamers. But soon after, a minor league team in Europe signed him. |
| "Practicing?" I repeated, still dazed. | This is the straight guy who can't believe he was friends with a gay homosexual. He must have had the same stupid joke I made about the word "practicing" in his head, since the term seemed to confuse him too. But I at least wasn't dazed by it. In fact, I remained lucid throughout the entire shocking story. But I'm not christian. So, yeah. |
| "In other words, I don't commit any homosexual acts" he explained. "And I don't intend to." | I don't get how these kids are any different. Who cares if one of them wants to sleep with guys. It's not like God allows either one of them to do anything until they're married anyway. Plus, even if he can't get straight by then, he could just live in abstinence like those Trekkie people. Sometimes you have to choose between mythology and sex. |
| "So you aren't a fag anymore," I surmised hopefully. "Right?" | I don't think this guy gets it. First of all, you don't call your friend nasty names. Especially if like God is watching and everything. Secondly, I don't think "surmised hopefully" is an accurate description of a teenage boy's thought process. I think a better sentence would be: "So you aren't a fag anymore," I stuttered out while thinking about naked whores and when I could leave to masturbate. Plus, you don't turn your sexuality on and off. What day is it? Saturday? Oh good. I'm not gay on Saturdays. Which is too bad. Tonight is the big dance contest! |
| "Man, I hate that word!" he told me. "I cringe every time I hear it. But you're wrong. I'll always be a homosexual, in the same way that an alcoholic who hasn't had a drink in years is still an alcoholic. It's a condition that a person has to accept and then deal with." | Here we get a special look inside the mind of a young gay boy. Of course, it might be slightly inaccurate since it was written by a bad author who happens to be a straight Christian whose experience with gay people is watching Tom Cruise movies with no pants on. I'm just glad he related orientation to alchoholism. Otherwise I'd still be saying, "So now... as long as I'm not wearing pink, I can still be straight as long as I don't have pom poms, right?" Fuck! Ever since gay got invented in the early eighties, everything has been so complicated! |
| "But why can't you be a counselor at camp?" I asked, even though the thought of him being my kid brother's counselor made me sick. | I was expecting the friend to respond with something a little more pertinent, but it looks like he's at least trying to understand. Still, what kind of sick bastard pictures their friends having sex with their little brother? Wait, I see. It's because they're attracted to males! They must want to fuck kids! Holy shit! I just left my little brother alone with his babysitter, and I heard she's a Christian and a former practicing heterosexual! Oh, just the thought of it is making me sick. |
| "I have to avoid situations that could give me trouble," he said. "That's why I don't take P.E. at school; I have to stay away from the locker room. And if you've ever noticed, I'm already wearing my trunks when we have a swim party. That way I don't have to change with the other guys. Verses like I Corinthians 10:13 really work, but only if you realize what your own weaknesses are." | What kind of trouble do you get into in a P.E. class? Do you just start uncontrollably ramming your crotch into people during soccer? If that's the case, you have much more important problems to talk about than your homosexuality. I almost understand, though. Me and most other straight males have to avoid places like the beach, the mall, or any other place where girls might be located. Otherwise the hormones that God implanted in us make us want to strip naked and hump legs. Plus, everyone knows that the main situations for gays to avoid are interior decorating displays and Barbara Streisand movies. Oh man, I know gay people that have screaming orgasms just thinking about them. Actually, I don't know anything about homosexuals. All my gay friends spend 90 percent of their time reminding everyone that they're gay rather than explaining to us all the gay secrets. |
| I can understand hating the French, but I never really did get why gays are so messed with. Sure, they're kind of asking for ridicule with the gay Christian fag to the right, but I really don't care who you want to sleep with. Wait, I take it back. I did once join a group that wanted to go out with blondes. And then we beat the shit out of the people that liked redheads. In fact, we passed legislation so that people with red hair couldn't marry each other by picketing an Irish pub with signs that said, "God Hates Redheads." |
 This was the second and final design for the Gay Christian flag. The original was a picture of the Last Supper, but everyone was topless in leather pants. |
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On this thing the news calls the Information Super Highway and your parents call "that computer thing," we have these things called "newsgroups." If I was speaking this out loud this is where I would take two fingers on each hand and form them into quotations just like people with no social skills do. On these "newsgroups," young pre-teens from America Online send the same three emails to each other. They go in this order and then repeat: 1: "FuCKK U, LoZeR. YoU Suq DIk." 2: "You are the loser because you cannot spell. Now learn to spell, dork. 3: "Why don't you GUYS SHUTT UP!1!! THIS NEWGROUP IS FRO POSTING PORN BNARIES ONLY!!!!1" Anyway, during an unfortunate afternoon searching for a good picture of naked children having sex with pot bellied pigs... for my brother, I found this. Actually, the coolest part is that I found this in a video game newsgroup that had as much to do with sex as a first date with a Mormon girl. And they say the internet isn't for kids. If this guy really wanted some chicks with no any sexual infectious disease, he should have mass posted this in the Star Trek groups. Those girls are almost guaranteed to be clean. There is no better form of STD control than a Klingon costume. |
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This click will lead you back to the Stupid Page. You will receive no Hitler heads. This click will lead you back to the front of Seanbaby.com, also with no Hitler heads. |
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