Monday, March 7, 2011

Why NBC Is [Not] Killin’ it: By Which I Mean Killing This Blog With IP Violations

Typical NBC, trying to steal all of our ideas, but we're firing right back by not posting a video from their channel:

I'm also writing the cease-and-desist letter now.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Killin' It Part Deux: Charlie Sheen, Goddesses, and Gnarly Gnarlingtons

We’ve posted earlier on Charlie Sheen, but as recent events have shown we hardly scratched Charlie's surface. For when you cut through the exterior, a victorious angel astride a hippogryphe comes flying out, spraying an AK-47 loaded with beauty, truth, and women’s panties. 

"I'm a nobleman, I'm chivalrous. I am on a drug, it's called Charlie Sheen. It's not available, if you try it once you will die."

By now you’ve probably heard that Sheen bought two mansions in his neighborhood: one to stow his ex wives and their kids, the other for his harem of sexually-enlightened goddesses. He paid with the change in his ashtray, but when you're the product of god/tiger fucking on the fields of Mars during the Ides of March, your money is no good in LA - a modern day Babylon dedicated to idol worship and the pursuit of killin' it. In fact, Jerry Brown's first action as Governor was bailing out Villaraigosa by deploying the National Guard to keep women from rioting after Charlie turned them away. 

"Bipolar? I'm biwinning. I win here and I win there, now what? I have one gear, go. I'm me. I'm different. I have a different constitution. Dying's for fools.”

Sheen also revealed to America in a series of interviews (Alex Jones, Good Morning America, The Today Show, TMZ, Piers Morgan, and The Today Show) that he cured himself of his recreational drug habit with his mind, but what you didn’t know is that when Charlie Sheen cured himself, half the drug dealers in LA went bankrupt.  Many more were forced to start cold-calling Lindsay Lohan, Mischa Barton and Taylor Momsen's younger sister. 

"The only thing I'm addicted to is winning… The run I was on made Sinatra, Flynn, Jagger and Richards look like droopy-eyed armless children.”

The sight of Medusa may have turned the fiercest warriors to stone, but all it took was Sheen's reflected glory to make Jon Cryer and some kid famous. And while Charlie Sheen doesn't really give a fuck, Obama is sitting in the crisis room right now, sweating the shit out over Charlie Sheen.  And now it is reported that Warren Buffet has purchased 120 luxury jetliners for his private airline - all of which will go towards the keeping Charlie's harem stocked. LAX plans to add three runways specifically for this purpose. When you have tiger blood coursing through your veins and are a direct descendant of the Phoenician god Adonis, what the fuck else are you going to do but totally kill it?

“This bootleg cult, arrogantly referred to as Alcoholics Anonymous, reports a 5 percent success rate. My success rate is 100 percent. Do the math.”

A typical day in the life of Charlie Sheen goes something like this: wake up at four in the morning to start working out; conference call with Berlusconi, Putin, and Qaddafi; embark on a wild and imaginative sexual adventure through your backyard that makes Siddhartha look like Curious George; eat a massive breakfast of bacon, pancakes, and eggs covered in protein powder and ambrosia; hold an exhaustive series of interviews in which you expel wisdom and suppress the urge to reveal the mind-blowing secrets of alchemy and killin’ it. Then you start your day.

"There's a new sheriff in town. And he has an army of assassins."

Clearly haters are going to hate, but media criticism and comparisons to the Roman Emperor Caligula aside, Charlie Sheen has obviously broken through to the next level and is 100 percent on top of his game.  While the typical pedestrian may find one man’s transcendence to godliness incomprehensible and terrifying, people clearly need to simply jump on the wagon and hope that some of the spray from the wake left behind by Charlie’s mercury surfboard reaches them because let's face it; that’s the closest they’ll ever come to killin’ it.

“How complicated can it be? What they're not ready for is guys like you and I and Nails and all the other gnarly gnarlingtons in my life, that we are high priests, Vatican assassin warlocks. Boom.”