Oh, Snogging. And Knickers. And DEATH.

Nope, never heard of Louise Rennison.

Hello.

Goodbye. Dead at 64.

When I scan obits and see "AUTHOR..." and never heard of someone, I wonder why.

Oh. She wrote for GIRLS. BRITISH GIRLS.

In other words, she's one of the twits responsible for twattery. Her books apparently are smarty-pants bloody-minded silly celebrations of narcissism and making fun of boys.

I base this on the nauseating titles:

Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging

It's OK, I'm Wearing Really Big Knickers

Knocked Out by my Nunga-Nungas

Dancing in my Nuddy-Pants

Startled by His Furry Shorts

Stop in the Name of Pants!

Luuurve is a Many Trousered Thing

Are These My Basoomas I See Before Me?

Rather precious, eh?

"Funny, she never married..."

What do these dopey books teach girls? That they should titter and giggle and be petty and stupid? To worry about their underwear? To be mindful that their tits are more important in getting ahead than their brains?

The woman was not just obsessive about knickers, "pants" and thongs. She had a separate series featuring a girl named Tallulah. The three titles published between 2010 and 2013:

Withering Tights, Midsummer Tights Dream, and Taming of the Tights.

We are dealing with a woman who "was a part of an "all-female cabaret group called Women with Beards," a performing group that poked fun at men and why they are responsible "for all the ills of society while the audience, largely female, would all cheer in agreement."

To quote the guy in "Frenzy" when he strangled women: "Lovely."

The world of "young adult" novels is a peculiar one. There are attempts at literature (the Harry Potter series, I suppose) but mostly a lot of pandering. It involves snot jokes, fart jokes, quizzical descriptions of teachers and parents, and an obligatory zaniness that would have Spike Milligan screaming "that's too fucking silly for even a retard."

We're living, after all, in an age where kids to go to see movies titled "Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs." Har har.

Hacks like R.L. Stine knock out 80, 90 "Goosebumps" books and schools buy them, feature them at book fairs, and assign them in desperation of having brats read anything at all. Seems like good money can be made in this undemanding field, although I've noticed that since most of these things are now available in Kindle and PDF editions, eBay bootleggers are happily offering the entire "Goosebumps" series for $4.99.

In case you're tempted to read one of Louise's yeezies about knickers and pants, note this:

"A continual source of humour within the series derives from Georgia's family; her promiscuous mother, embarrassing father, eccentric younger sister..." but not porcine Aunt Amy or Uncle Darren? How about BFF Shauna, who sings Taylor Swift songs all night and shaves her twat all day?

Why ain't anyone reading "Pride and Prejudice" anymore? "Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging" is more the choice in the 21st Scentury.

Despised Sam Smith Wins Oscar for Bad Song

Well, maybe Mr. Mopey can cheer up.

Hasn't this guy made a fortune over his wan, Little Fag Lost personality?

Isn't he sort of Adele's oversized clit, with his endless smelly ballads?

Congrats Sam Smith faggot twit over-rated shit.

You won an OSCAR and sucked off your OSCAR. Now go fuck yourself with it.

I was somewhat amused to check the DAILY FAIL and see the comments section on Sam's win. It was almost unanimous: everyone hated the song and didn't think he deserved to win.

For a change, a lousy kitschy stupid cloying fuckhead of a singer was DESPISED at the Daily Mail, instead of treated with pouty sympathy and a load of hearts and flowers.

I was expecting the Adele deal, with sighing simps saying, "Oh, my fave won, I'm SO happy." But no, nobody was pleased by this pretender.

It also didn't help that he was not a gracious winner. He was as giddy as James Corden with a new butt plug. He was preening and sighing, and clutching his co-writer like this was the fairy tale ending to an evening of bukkake in a gay bar. Well wipe that...SMILE off your face, you irritating pest.

IF I'M BEING HONEST, they should just abandon the "Best Song" category. All the nominated songs STUNK. They almost always do.

When the latest Bond movie came out, Sam Smith's rotten song was conspicuously singled out as being the WORST in franchise history. That it was nominated suggests a Fag Fix.

This year's show was all about whining "Black Lives Matter," and oooh, one or two black guys didn't get nominated but it seems the "Gay Lives Matter" crowd always gets what they want.

Chris Rock gave a funny monologue but he didn't really touch on how many minorities (sexual, racial) do very well in Hollywood. He DID smirk that even blacks do. Amid the anti-white gags, was a good one about Will Smith, who went ballistic because he didn't get a nomination. Yeah? Prejudice? Rock pointed out this is the SAME Will Smith who got 20 MILLION dollars for starring in "Wild Wild West."

PS, there is NO movie as ludicrous as "Wild Wild West," which suggests that just after the Civil War, a black guy can dude up in a suit, be given the highest spy job in the government, and attend gala functions and walk down any street anywhere treated with awe. Aw, fuck OFF.

Chris Rock, as Millennials like to say, "nailed it." Like he's a fucking Roman soldier with Jesus in front of him.

Yes, he did a good job, but he's supposed to. That's his job. He's spent 30 years being an uppity black comic who attacks both sides of the racial issue.

But getting back to stinky Sam.

In his burbling speech, where he was almost swooning like Scarlett O'Hara, and leaning on his hairy shower buddy, he babbled about how he might be the first OPENLY GAY person to win an Oscar.

First off, aren't we all sick of "OPENLY GAY" guys? They're proud of being cocksuckers? Like this is an Olympic event? There's nothing to be proud of. It's like being an "OPEN ADULT BABY" or an "OPEN SHOE FETISHIST." It's stupid, it's a pathetic quirk of mental illness, and it's nothing to be proud of. It's also nothing to be ashamed of. Much.

Today's papers are listing all the OPENLY GAY guys who won previously, including old-timers John Gielgud and George Cukor. So asshole Sam...make that WIDE asshole Sam...was too busy preening and fainting with joy to even know what the fuck he was saying.

But has an openly gay AND black guy ever won? What the fuck difference does it make, when awards SHOULD be given on MERIT and TALENT, right? What happened to giving awards because they're deserved?

Christ, Stallone didn't win for "Creed." He gave the same performance he did in every "Rocky" movie. So common sense prevailed. Gonna complain it was because he's Italian? Or because he spent so much time under a sunlamp he looked black?

Speaking OF COLOR, again, "Best Director" went to a Latino. How come nobody's commenting on how a BROWN SKIN won a fucking award?

While the "Black Lives Matter" crowd called for a boycott, the "Brown Lives Matter" bunch seemed pretty happy that a pretentious hack with a typically silly and overdone accent has now won TWO years in a row. Isn't anyone complaining that this was a "token Spic?" That this guy is just a stereotype, like Desi Arnaz was with Lucille Ball, of the funny-talking hummus-face with weird hair and outrageous mannerisms?

Hypocrisy is claiming whites take it all... when a LATINO wins Best Director two years in a row. This guy ain't white. This guy also gave a bullshit speech about how he hoped that one day, the "color of one's skin matters as much as the length of one's hair." Well, he had long ridiculous hair AND brown skin and he STILL won. So fuck OFF.

Don't you hate people who talk about how people are hated for "the color of their skin?" In the audience sat Sylvester Stallone, sporting a tan that was darker than Will Smith's face.

No, it's not color at all. It's customs, manners, personality, taste in clothes and food and music, and a lot more. Act like everyone else and you're likely to be treated ok. Just don't have a Jewish last name.

One funny gaffe was not ON the show but on some fashion website run by Millennials. I guess it's a Decider Gawker for stupid bints. It focused on what everyone was wearing, and they ran a photo of Oprah Winfrey in a lovely gown. Only...it was Whoopi Goldberg.

How embarrassing that while watching the "OSCARS SO WHITE" show, where Chris Rock spent 10 minutes joking about race, a fucking bunch of idiot Millennials on a fashion-gossip website say that all nigger women look alike!

PS, Whoopi and Oprah do not REMOTELY look alike. All the idiot site could do was Tweet an insincere apology and move on. Like, "whatever!"

The Oscar show this year was, as usual, something you recorded and fast-forwarded (if you cared at all). Who needs all the boring awards for "Best Costume" and "Best Sound Editing" and hearing constant "I want to thank my overpriced agent, my beautiful children, my lovely wife..." And jeez, there was the "Bag Lady" that Stephen Fry made loving fun of at the BAFTAs. OK, she's one ugly old gnome so dressing eccentric gives her "style." She admits it; if she wore a gown she'd look ridiculous. Which is an irony for someone whose job is to make people look good.

The show had one or two good gags (which proves that funny TV is more memorable than all the nominated turgid long movies that nobody actually saw). One amusing moment had boisterous black comic Tracy Morgan in drag. It was part of a segment wondering what would happen if blacks were given roles in some of the major films of the year. So there he was, envisioned as "The Danish Girl" instead of Eddie Redmayne. Tracy roared, "I'm the Danish girl," while chomping on a Danish.

Ok, it's not "Only Fools and Horses" or "Father Ted" but it was comic relief from all the fucking "thank my wife and kids" speeches. And it only took 20 seconds.

Sacha Baron Cohen presented an award, doing his Ali-G act. Christ, how OLD is that? Was it funny even ten years ago? I pity the guy. He's a big boring clod (imagine Tyson Fury on tranquilizers) and he has to assume identities that would make Peter Sellers puke. Well, too bad in this awful 21st Century, all a guy like Cohen can do is imitate mongrel immigrant scum and assholes. Every one of his characters is an ethnic monster of some kind.

His big gag was that we should appreciate and feel sympathy for all races including "those little yellow people with small penises...MINIONS." The audience didn't laugh much at that one, because even if MINIONS was the punchline, it was still a dig at Asians who ARE yellow, little, and as Eddie Murphy once laughed, "have rice dicks."

But let's pretend they don't. The real thing is to accept that people are different. As much as possible. Gays who have to act like fags and lesbians who have to act like dykes are trying everyone's patience, and so are most unassimilated Blacks, Latinos, Muslims, Orthodox Jews, etc.

But I digress.

Talking about two other musical moments...Lady Gaga gave an over-the-top drama queen performance singing her "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE" to be sexually abused song. Hey, Gagger, you don't know what it's like to have to listen to you on EVERY awards show.

Yes, Lady Gaga can sing, I'll give her that. She was dramatic. But she's gruesome, she's as much of a braying pest as anyone from Streisand to Celine to Adele, and worst of all, she has the world's STUPIDEST NAME.

Lastly, Dave Grohl (who, why) was called on to quietly sit and sing Macca's "Blackbird" during the "In Memorium" section. Now, "In Memorium" is always the favorite moment at the Oscars, as we sadly see vibrant pix of deceased stars. Grohl distracted from this, with a song that depressingly seemed to be urging dead people to come back to life: "take these sunken eyes and learn to see...Blackbird fly..."

No, Dave, Lizabeth Scott is DEAD. If she woke up she'd be stuck in a box six feet under, screaming.

For some reason, amid the obscure dead people who worked in costume design, or wrote film criticism, they left out Abe Vigoda, who became famous in middle-age for appearing in "The Godfather" in a key role, and was in many many other films. The Oscars ALWAYS do that. They always leave somebody in the morgue.

Ultimately, it was just a fuckin' TV show, with songs and jokes. It covered up the fact that MOVIES are boring and NOBODY saw the artsy much-nominated films.

People went to see "Star Wars" and "Mad Max" instead, and shit comedies. They didn't go to see "Spotlight" or "The Big Short" or "The Revanent" or "The Danish Girl" or "Room," which were all fawned at for Best Picture, Actor, Actress, Director, etc. etc. awards.

Nope, people don't go to see flicks about crusading reporters going after pedophile priests, or Yuppies playing the stock market, or Eddie Redmayne moping in drag. Didn't we have enough of him being a moping fag in his last film?

I downloaded 4 of 5 of those via the torrents and I doubt I'll ever get to 'em. They all seem pretty damn depressing. But what's AMUSEMENT in the disgusting 21st Century? An Oscar show?

Sneak Those Stinky Knickers as BUY IT NOW

The other night, a clever perv ran a blatant auction for used knickers.

The ad even mentions his "teenaged girlfriend" who apparently is also his "daughter."

Yes, eBay has a rule against pedophilia. And incest.

Yes, eBay has a rule against selling used knickers.

No, they didn't stop it. Because pervs are sniffing night and day, and if a seller cleverly posts at night when eBay has a skeleton staff, and if that seller isn't greedy and is willing to take a "buy it now" price...he wins.

He offered a modest $4.95 BUY IT NOW and gouged an extra $12.98 for the postage (which would actually be about $2.98).

To him, getting $5 per pair is a big deal. Nevermind, if the auction is even real, that he's had his teenaged girlyyy wear each pair for several days and that it would cost almost $5 per pair to replace them.

Funny, this sicko was in such a hurry to sneak a sale, he claimed the undies belonged to his "teenage girlfriend" but later, said goodbyyyyye on behalf of himself and his DAUGHTER.

Perverts don't have much logic. Except anyone who'd buy used knickers might also pay for a dirty letter sent by postal mail, or a heavy-breathing phone call, or triple the price for some more heavily soiled item.

Ebay. They should consider a new slogan: "You can't find heavily soiled knickers on AMAZON!"

MET MUSEUM : "Oh, Pay Whatever the Fuck Ya Want..."

Verrrry interesting. Sometimes you can file a class action lawsuit and win.

The law is unpredictable...I don't think even lawyers know how when or why a lawsuit can be filed and be won.

I've consulted with lawyers many times, and heard a variety of responses from, "Hey, I'd LOVE to try and win this case" to "No, forget it" with plenty a "If you've got the money, I'll give it a try" in between.

In tourist-trap NYC, out-of-town idiots get scammed all the time. Monkeys stand around selling counterfeit tickets to shows. They sell tickets to places that don't charge to get in. They scalp tickets at double price to dunces who don't walk to the box office but believe the creep that's blocked them with: "they're sold out, you can ONLY get tickets from ME!"

SOME museums have designated "free" times, as a courtesy to students and the elderly.

SOME, especially if they're using government funds, have a "suggested" price but plainly indicate you can pay what you wish.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art? Most lifelong New Yorkers weren't aware the $25 admission was "suggested" and not (like the Guggenheim, for example) mandatory.

Somebody got the idea of filing a "class action" to get them to change the wording on their signs? Amazing.

Probably most tourists and anyone with poor English skills will STILL pay the $25, or feel intimidated about tossing down a buck instead. But who knows, the place could become a fucking McDonald's and be loaded up with lazy slobs stinking the place out and loitering. Where, outside of a library, can you find shelter for next to nothing?

What interests me is why nobody's done a "class action" against the RIAA for NOT stopping obvious bootleggers, or eBay for allowing idiots to sell used underwear, or GOOGLE for just about every offense you can think of. And why did it take so many DECADES before anyone thought to file a class action on the Met museum? Did others try and fail?

The 21st Century stinks all right, and when lawyers are involved, it's downright perplexing. You can go to court and DEMAND somebody re-word a sign? Change a policy? Yeah?

AMY WAGSTAFF-WETONE READS...

Coming to GOOTUBE...

AMY WAGSTAFF-WETONE reads the amazing novel "PIED AND PREJUDICED."

It opens:

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must not be in want of an ugly fat delusional bitch."

From there, we follow the story of a man who, by sense of smell alone, sniffed out a twat as she was sitting in front of her computer. As she sat, droning and stinking, she realized she was not alone. Her blubber quivered as her hard-boiled eggs popped wide. Her piggy lips uttered a frightened "OINK." And then...well, let's read the hero's next act:

"I pied her, for I was prejudiced. Yes, I admit it, prejudiced against self-important slobs who hog the buffet and worse, hog the bandwidth. Everywhere there's lots of piggies, but why do these insufferable sows insist on getting in the way?

"How about the pig that nudges you halfway out of YOUR seat on the bus to make room for her. How about getting crushed by closing doors when a slob blocks you from exiting the lift because she waddles so slowly. I hate to miss a traffic light because I can't get by some truck-sized monster oblivious to the red light and acting like there's a "Yield: Hippo Crossing" sign.

"Yes, I'm prejudiced the minute I see an ugly fat cow like Amy. I figure she has no self control, no manners, and no clue on how to avoid being a tedious bore. I figure any minute she's gonna hit me up for money so SHE can do something for HERSELF. Like douche with a bottle of Ribena before having sex with a haggis.

"She used my money to sit on her horse-shaped paddocks and flatulently read from some old book nobody cares about! Worse, she used a camcorder and floated it to GOOTUBE! I vowed revenge on behalf of the civilized world. I say if your face resembles one of Stephen Fry's hemorrhoids, read for THE BLIND. Mail it in on an mp3 file so people don't have to actually see your porcine, rubbery face!"

Oh, He said FECK and complained about Goose Shit

SOME people are saying a sad farewell to Frank Kelly. The guy looked like he had lots of charm and a truly sophisticated sense of humor.

Put it this way; some items of comedy from Great Britain don't provide a bundle of laughs overseas.

Fine. Everybody has their own favorites, which means laughing at local references, or recognizing a "character" as inbred as they are. What's a little depressing is when people INSIST that YOU should be laughing, too.

"Father Ted" was one of the many lesser shows flogged on the notoriously Brit-happy PBS. PBS did popularize Monty Python in America, but also relentlessly showed "Upchuck Downstairs," "All Things Trite and Doody-Full," "Pest Minister," and "Are You Being Bored?" In other words, they've perpetuated the worst of British stereotypes.

"Father Ted" was suggested to me. I watched a minute or two. I was told: "You have to watch a LOT of episodes. You have to GET INTO the characters!"

FECK.

IF I'M BEING HONEST, I don't WANT to invest a lot of fucking time into getting to know sitcom characters. It's very rare when I've had to "work" at "getting into" any kind of show. TV is designed for people to instantly "get" the main characters. Living with the characters might make things funnier, and the writing might get better as the series moves along, but you know after one viewing if "After You've Gone" or "Fawlty Towers" or whatever is right for you.

I can see that some shows are great, just not for ME. I can see why some people liked "Fools and Horses." I didn't relate to it. Some shows were ok, but they just didn't have enough going on to make me care to watch more than a few episodes. "Rising Damp" was one of those.

I sort of liked "Rising Damp" for one or two episodes but it got predictable. Do I have time for every "Steptoe" or "On the Buses?" Christ no. Having not seen an episode in 20 years, I checked that "Doctor" thing with poor Barry Evans. It was ok, and I remembered him as likable, self-effacing, and good at the fluster-bumble-shy bit. So? It didn't have me urgently wanting to watch every episode. Even episodes by Cleese and Chapman or Cryer are pretty short on memorable moments. Same with the racist show Evans did later. If the girl with the tits isn't showing them, well, I've had enough with the Paki accent gags.

Back to Kelly. His obit admitted, if he's known outside of the U.K., it's only for his four years as "Father Ted." Yeah, what Robert Newton was to pirates, THIS guy is to priests. "You HAVE to remember," I was told, "The British have this thing about the clergy. They LOVE humor about the clergy, especially if the priest is portrayed as outrageously ugly, dirty and nasty. That's hilarious!"

Yeah. And it was hilarious watching Ronnie Barker stuttering and gazing at bosoms while owning a boring store someplace? Or Ronnie Corbett puttering around suffering an overbearing wife or mother or whatever it was? How about "One Foot in the Gravy" where you could get a funny show one week and a dull one the next? I almost feel like downloading some "Father Ted" just to make sure, but I just do not have the time. Watching old TV sitcoms makes about as much sense as singing 40 Taylor Swift covers and uploading them to GooTube.

Back to Kelly. When you try to explain why something's funny, you're doomed to fail. I read that this guy spent some 20 years on the "Glen Abbey" radio show...

"With Kelly playing the part of a culchie called "Gobnait O'Lúnasa." They typically started with the sound of him putting coins in an old freckle coin box, and when the phone rang and was answered, his words were, "Hello! Guess who? Is that you Nuala?" Kelly would act the part of an English BBC reporter interviewing rural inhabitants about bacon being sliced, or "ha-hooing" (shouting a Rebel yell) competitions. Typically the village was called Ballykilferret in "the Republic of Eer-ah" (a mispronunciation of Éire). A compilation of his sketches was released on a CD in about 2000.Tracks included the Ayatollah Ceili Band (a pun on The Tulla Céilí Band)..."

"Hush now, don't explain..."

Sounding a bit like a Shauna Cuntwell resume, the obit continued, with a numb, almost generic list of credits: "Kelly toured extensively in the US and Canada. He regularly provided voice-overs and TV advertising work, and appeared with Mr Tayto in the recent popular campaign for Tayto crisps." Let's have some respect. The man appeared with Mr. Tayto.

The kicker was:

"Kelly released a single, "Christmas Countdown", a comedy song based on the "12 Days of Christmas" carol (penned by Hugh Leonard), which reached number 8 in the Irish Singles Chart in 1982 and peaked at 26 in the UK Singles Chart in 1984."

Have I mentioned how much I hate and LOATHE predictable comedy? After the first fucking day of Christmas, you know where this is heading. He's gonna bitch about every gift he gets, and belabor the obvious: that nobody needs a partridge in a pear tree, three French hens, six geese a laying, because the place is gonna stink of bird shit, ha ha.

The script is funny if you're a cretin. Did Kelly give it anything with his "funny" oy-rish accent and increasing exasperation? Not for me, and not when it's dragging FIVE FUCKING MINUTES.

Thousands upon thousands think "Christmas Countdown" is "BRILLIANT." It's just kinda sad that somebody who brought laughter to millions of people didn't bring one smile to ME. But then again, neither did David Bowie.

In the end (literally) there was the sorry line about how this guy left his wife of 51 years and 7 children: with a pain in the ass. Like Glenn Frey, Kelly was afflicted with a one-two punch. He had to deal with a sneaky attack up his arse, and then got finished off with something even worse. Frey you'll remember had ulcerative colitis and then rheumatoid arthritis which led to pneumonia. Kelly had bowel cancer, topped off with Parkinson's Disease. Which meant that toward the end he was finding life the way I find "Christmas Countdown."

Keeping Up with the Cunt Well

Hangin' around the inkwell that is the Internet, it's always fun to see how clueless bints spend their time. No, not Dried Baby. Shauna Cuntwell!

When you're just a 19 year-old yo-yo, the world of self is such a playground. She apparently leads a sheltered sexless life on a potato farm somewhere, so her harmless habit of upping 40 Taylor Swift cover versions to GooTube, as well as other vainglorious lameness, does keep her out of trouble (the 9 month kind).

We're familiar with her often comical attempts at getting attention when a million or more other idiots are doing the SAME thing. Type in her name and cunt...er, country...and because she does have an unusual name, you'll get plenty of her cutesy pix and links to her lamebrained videos. Here's the unintentionally humorous way her cover of a Bieber tune was very correctly appraised:

Yes, a sorry cover indeed. They ALL are.

But remember, Taylor Swift has knickers older than Shauna. Our wide-eyed girl doesn't know the real world yet. It's just that instead of playing with dolls or spending an hour or two at home alone practicing the guitar, she's got a camcorder to annoy the world with.

She has enough spare change to pay all the usual hustlers who promise they'll get her work and get her attention.

Below, we see she's registered with some guyyyysss, who have their own TWATTER and FARCEBOOK page. Sign up with them and they'll tell the world about you. And hundreds of others. They're just a mill, taking a name and a link and upping it, doing dozens a day. Still, if she gets one legit click and someone actually takes a look at her GooTube vid, it MIGHT be a famous producer! It could be Dr. Luke, looking for new talent! (Oh no, no, that's the guy who discovered KESHA but allegedly pounded her precious puss when she wasn't in the mood).

"She is only 19, brain like a bean...."

In another year or two she'll have a bunch of kids, no job, and will have shut down her GooTube account, embarrassed over her bad singing, dopey hairstyles and idiotic come-ons. She'll tell her boyfriend Habib, "What was I thinking, posting all those bleating hamster cries and thinking anyone would take me seriously."

She won't be able to remove all the inane comments she's made on various teen-oriented websites as she surfed the net to read about her FAVES.

Shauna haunts celeb pages that talk about 20-something "hunk" actors she's in love with, and checks out teen fashion-tip pages, too. Sometimes she sees something that dismays her, and brings out her old fashioned Irish prudery. She checked out a video about how fashion models work and stay slim. You can just imagine her huge owl eyes shutting for a moment, her pouty mouth turning into an exasperated line, and the blood draining from her already vanilla-pale face! She left with her dignity, and a brief put-down of disgust.

Time for her to get back to work and find more of those "I need work" and "Hire me cheap" sites. And so we leave her as she posts a rather humiliatingly skimpy resume of her achievements in life.

Oh yes, all influential people and corporations check out resumes on the Internet when it comes to handing out well-paying assignments.

I like that line: "I have wrote a few of my own blogs." Yes, and I writ about her on this one, and having wrotten, don't even ask for a nice comment, guyyyyyssss.

You can never have enough tattoos

Here, bint, take this to your tattooist and have him fill in the gaps.

Fast BBC is Quigg to Post Results sans a Spoiler Alert

Indeed, my blogger friend rightly complained about the instant BLAB on the Frampton-Quigg fight. Which on this night, was the SECOND most annoying thing about that fight and the Internet.

Why IS it that insensitive Internet news sites LOVE to show shock photos and to spoil things with instant results of sports events? Sometimes they'll say "photos too graphic" and offer a link but too often they're more concerned with making sure you're on the page, literally frozen in that "can't stop watching the trainwreck" position. And saying who won a fight? They figure they'll get a GOOD reputation as the place to instantly go for the breaking news? Fuck OFF.

In this case, I actually did want to know who won, but I didn't think of going to the BBC or any mainstream website, as usually they don't even care about boxing. I went to one of the boxing forums (the alternative would've been ESPN or another all-sports website).

The reason I needed to know is that I'd been watching the fucking fight...till the last two minutes! That's when the "ruin our fun" brigade managed to shut down the illegal feed on the usual suspects' streaming sites.

I don't blame the PPV people for desperately trying to fuck things up (at least they aren't as nasty as Kanye who put a Trojan in the Kickass downloads of his fucking album). This thing was staged by Showtime Pay-Per-View and I think even the UK's Box Nation was squeezing an extra tenner from its subscribers in order to see it.

As I usually do, because Box Nation isn't even available if I wanted to pay for it, I went to the dodgy sites where there might be screen freezes for five seconds. Or more. Sometimes the only way to see a fight clearly is to grab an unprotected foreign language feed. Showtime might charge a minor price to France or Spain, who show it on their normal TV channels.

The fight was a big deal in the U.K. since BOTH guys were British and BOTH held versions of the championship belt. After a doleful start (six boring rounds of cautious jabbing) the fight started to get hot.

Underdog Quigg had a puncher's chance and a few times late in the fight, landed pretty good shots. The 11th was an exciting round, especially since he knew he was running out of time. And then...SNAP! The channel mysteriously switched to a hockey game. The streaming sites lost their feeds and had substitute other programming. One of my regular sites also had a feed from France but they lost that, too.

I figured there wasn't likely to be a KO, so I just checked the boxing forums (where loners discuss and watch the fight and post wisecracks) to find out who won.

PS, Kickass and the other torrents don't usually have anyone upping fights. At least, you cant count on it so you're always aiming to get a stream.

Fuckin' boxing. Keerist. Is the Super Bowl on Pay Per View? Wimbledon? Many insist that boxing would be much more popular if they kept it to free TV. Obviously the promoters and some elite fighters are much happier to make millions on PPV super-match-ups, and whatever high prices they can get from Showtime and HBO for ordinary championship fights. I don't blame most people for not even knowing who Frampton and Quigg are, much less caring.

I'm not sure if Box Nation will grow to the point where it's available free or for a nominal price on cable channels around the world. All I know is that it does get tougher to find good streams on major boxing and MMA events. At least, for now, MMA stuff is always on Kickass the next day. I just have to make sure to NOT check Internet news sites to accidentally be told who won.

CONTUMELY

ANYONE heard of CONTUMELY?

No, in the world of illiterate copy-and-paste Internet morons, the word is "contusion."

I remember being quite amused at Ian Dury's use of "contumely" in "Pam's Moods," but I wondered if I'd misheard it. Although despite the -ly ending, it's a noun.

As previously mentioned, I foolishly went to "lyric" sites, where I found a ton of idiotic crap with atrocious spelling mistakes. The line was "derision and contusion" there. I thought, my hearing is not what it was, but I do KNOW the difference between someone singing CONTUSION and CONTUMELY.

Aside from checking the idiot Internet lyric pages, I'd gone to Ian's site, but found they didn't have lyrics, just a mention that a book of them was for sale.

Ah. My mistake. I SHOULD HAVE searched for CONTUMELY and "PAM'S MOODS."

Which is what I ended up doing.

Thanks to the copyright thieves at Google, I got THIS:

Yes, it's the page out of the lyric book the Dury site is selling. As far as GOOGLE as concerned, every book should have dozens upon dozens of free-scanned pages. In fact, often almost the entire book is on the site. This means that if you're looking for one piece of information, you don't have to buy the book. Ha ha ho ho hee hee.

All seriousness aside, when I learned that the book had a CD with it as a bonus, I thought, "OK you're bending over a little, so I will, too." And I ordered the fucking thing.

Today has still been one of contumely, and not just in a line in a Dury song. But that's the 21st Century...

AMY WAGSTAFF WETONE: "Resting Comfortably"

Concerned about Amy?

The latest news comes from her mother, a Charles Hawtrey look-alike. "It was touch and go for a while. Doctors would touch Amy, and then go throw up. Finally they realized it wasn't a mutant octopus with missing legs, but my talented daughter the novel-reader. All she really had was a sore throat, it turns out.

"You see, she simply announced she was going to complete EVERY chapter of "Pride and Prejudice" whether anyone on GooTube was viewing or not, AND, she was going to go on to "Moby Dick." Well, that volume might be considered autobiographical for her.

"It was sad that the news of her continued readings led to somebody trying to stop her!"

Here's another "Believe it or Not" item in the news:

Who Has Seen the Wind...or the Flu?

Maybe Yoko will come up with a quick poem about how you can't see the FLU any more than you can see the wind.

At 83 or whatever she is, she was taken to hospital as a precaution. And...you guessed it, the Twatter and Farcebook world erupted with lunacy.

On the positive side, it's nice to know she's up there with BLOWIE as an international figure that can't be left alone.

The first Farcebook example is someone who likes the media ALMOST as little as I do. He's referencing what he read in a Dallas newspaper. Jeez, how many news stories had to mention WHERE she was taken?

At random, two more.

They are well intentioned. Aren't they?

(You can imagine the ones that are trollish and mean!)

First is a post by an incoherent cunt. She (if it's a she) is more silly than Cilla in trying to explain Yoko's recent comments about NOT breaking up the Beatles.

It's followed by some Millennial drip who throws in phrases he doesn't understand ("female post-modernist artist") and makes wild pronouncements that are complimentary but pure hyperbole. WHO is HE? Some waster with no credentials. A dung beetle who has spent a whole TWO YEARS doing "research." Meaning, what, he's surfed Wikipedia? Pretentious twit.

Aw, a SPILL for SKI-SLUT "Vagina Vonn"

She's lucky to be alive.

No, not that she could've died in a fall. She's used to balancing on her knees, spreading her legs, and skiing down a slope while her wet twat dries out.

She's even used to taking a tumble while remembering the times she took it up the ass (with only a quick slide of an ice cream cone up and down her butt crack for lube).

She could've died if she STAYED with the dirty bastard. Just how long any woman could stand looking at a guy's face when it resembles a sack of mahogany door knobs, I don't know. But a few more years, and she would've wracked up as many beatings as blonde Nicole Simpson did with her favorite sports trophy, O.J.

Either he would've accidentally beaten her to death, or Vonn would've done what Tiger's wifey did and suddenly grab a club and try and beat the shit out of that garden weasel.

It's a shame, though, knees can heal 100% but not brain damage. PS, Lindsey, you spell VONN with TWO N's. Some might say that with you, one N was more than fucking enough.

Signed, WELL WISHER.

REASONS not TO BE CHEERFUL, 1,2,3...

I've been in a Dury mood lately, especially fixated on the Kilburn days. But when I checked my copy of the Dury "SONG BY SONG" book, I found it did NOT include the lyrics to any Kilburn songs (even though Ian wrote all the lyrics). Everything other single or album track, yes.

I checked the "Official Website" where artistes usually allow their lyrics to be reproduced. Uh, no.

I did see that one of Dury's kids is hawking her book of lyrics complete with "loving" annotations. How "loving?" Does it have the original 15 minute manuscript version of "Sweet Gene Vincent?" Since Internet browsing is not easy, and this book is NOT in an American store, I suppose I'd have to just buy it "for the collection," and if it really proved a stinker, try to re-sell on eBay?

The website wasn't big on fresh news. They noted a "memorial bench." But...

Watta surprise, a musical bench with headphones VANDALISED. As if some brat stomping all over it wouldn't also do some damage. WHO didn't see this coming? It's a fucking wonder the bench itself isn't all marked up, or just a pile of ashes, but that's not a recent photo.

Note the interesting opening line to this cheerless bit of info: "Ian's family has donated a bench (sponsored by Warner Chappell Music)..."

Meaning, those BASTARDS in the suits and ties bought the bench and paid for installation, right? Those creeps who "RUIN THE FUN?" Good thing kindly, generous people like SPOTIFY are on the scene now! Oh, but they don't find or nurture new talent OR promote artists, they just take a percentage and expect the artist to hire a manager, agent, Web Sheriff, etc. etc.

Meanwhile, Warner (and every other hapless music company) says "oh, it's whack-a-mole" regarding all those "come here for the lyrics" websites. The songwriters don't get a penny from these sites, and aside from maybe Paul Simon or Jagger/Richards, almost nobody is missing. And the music business isn't lobbying for reform, or easy shutdown or blockage of rogue sites.

I checked the sites for one Dury song. Every site had the same illiterate steal. No reason to be cheerful at how all these Buzzfeed Inquisitr Decider Gawker versions in the "read lyrics here" world just COPY AND PASTE.

Ian is a wicked guy, but aside from the copyright issue of "Sueperman," did he EVER intentionally spell words on every line wrong? No. But almost EVERY line in "Pam's Moods" had a gruesome spelling error.

No reasons to be cheerful in my Ian meanderings on the Internet yet. All I found was Ian's kids are trying to make some money off meager memorabilia items, like a lyric book and dupes of Dury art posters that were themselves somewhat Warholian thefts of other peoples' artwork.

And, oh yeah. The site's promoting THIS item for the hipsters:

How nice, all these ridiculous companies hawking their 180 gram vinyl (or "virgin vinyl," for some of the Savile-pervs). This allows asshole friends to say, "Hey, vinyl is making a comeback!"

Meanwhile the perfectly good original vinyl (including sealed copies) mostly rots in record stores and on eBay, because HIPSTERS want the bragging rights of owning "the new box set." Which, if they're really stupid, they might brag about in a GooTube video as they unwrap the Amazon package.

Cheerful? Me? I was EXPECTING to get the actual lyrics to "Pam's Moods," find some GOOD news in the website's news section, and on their merch page see some mp3's or a CD of rare demo material that I know exists.

"What a waste, what a waste, rock 'n' roll don't mind..."

Three of David Cameron's Immigrant Friends

Oh, David. A few of your friends ran afoul.

Don't worry, all the mosques that were formerly churches have sent out press releases:

"Don't blame a teeny tiny few miscreants when BILLIONS of Muslims are hardly bending your way of life too much at all. Or killing. Or raping. PS, if you don't serve free stinky halal food to our children we will blow up the Tower of London."

Responding to the calls of "Freedom of Speech" from Julian Assange, Google, and most everyone NOT in a Communist country, the London Daily Mail declared, "Fuck off. We will MODERATE every comment, ESPECIALLY when it's about Muslims!!!

"Nobody's entitled to an opinion we don't like. "Freedom of Speech" might be fine when it comes to stealing movies or something, but we all have to agree that Islam is a fine, fine religion. We also don't want our offices bombed like the Charlie Hebdo offices were by these swarthy, hummus-faced Camel-dung breathed psycho religious fanatic big-nosed armpit-bearded lunatics. And some of the men are just as bad."

The last nine lines are dedicated to the memory of Benny Hill. Or was it Frankie Howerd? Nevermind, in another 10 years nobody in Great Britain will know who Benny or Frankie were. Gigi Hadid will be a Princess and Amir Khan and Zayn Malik will be on the five and ten pound notes.

GIGI HADID P. DIDDY SHOWS TITTY

What an embarrassment to all the rich Arabs in Great Britain.

Look what happened with Gigi Diddy Hadiddy Dowadiddy Yeezy Deezy Dozy Datenut Bint.

What an embarrassment to the ten or twenty rich white pop stars who thought only THEY were getting to see Gigi's titty.

Reporters in the lobby of Mohamed Abdel Moneim Al-Fayed's home finally were allowed an audience. He met them and said:

"My son is the late Dopey Al-Fayed, whose swarthy looks and endless riches tempted Royalty. I am in NO way related to this Gigi piece of camel dung. So fuck off. My nose will see you out."

SPIN SPIN SPIN!

One newspaper that is NOT laughing at Gigi Dowadiddy is the London Daily Fail. Oh, they are feeling soooo soooooorrrry for her. They are praising her. They declare how wonderfully this stone-faced sour bint kept her "composure."

How much bribe money do you think the FAIL gets for promoting this tufty-nosed pouty piece of coagulated hummus?

She's not cute. She's not talented. She's just a spoiled rich bitch sand-monkey.

Online Dating for Duckmouthed Pro Wreslters

Oh, here's a nice one.

She included a photo to prove she's a WINNER!

Yes, she's AVAILABLE, Guyyyysss. Here's her simple list of demands!

I'M LOOKING FOR A BOYFRIEND WHO:

1. Will text me good morning (even if I'm on the loo and he's in bed in the next room).

2. Will apologize after a fight if he's pinned me to the ground and I can't get up because my butt has me suction-cupped to the floor.

3. Will kiss me, even when I'm making noises like a duck and he needs pliers to part my lips.

4. Will make me laugh by rolling over my pubic hair with a lawn mower.

5. Will take silly/cute pictures of things he puts in my twat.

6. Will start a conversation to cover the sounds of my farting.

7. Hugs me from behind because he's got arms longer than a gorilla.

8. Respects me despite 50 pounds of belly flab, five colored children under the age of six, and the tattoos on my tits that say BROTHERS GRIMSBY.

9. Won't flirt with other cows. Won't walk other dogs. When I ask him for oral sex won't climb on the Boulebard Avenue Bridge in Grimsby and refuse to come home.

10. Won't rush things and try to get his hand in up to the elbow.

11. Won't get clingy when there's a hurricane and he needs something sturdy to hang onto.

12. Won't lie to me and tell me I'm pleasingly plump.

13. Gives me compliments, like a complimentary order of fries to stow in my crotch before we get to the movie theater.

14. Doesn't laugh when my head gets stuck in the popcorn carton.

15. Isn't annoyed when people say to me, "Can I have your autograph, Mr. Chisora?"

LINES BY LONGFELLOW, "ON SEEING A PHOTO OF A FAT LADY"

"Such was the wreck of the Hesperus...GOD SAVE US ALL..."

"How Do You Sleep?"

So salt and pepper trickle from your thighs
When you were born you popped your mother's eyes
Those boobs are big but so's your horse-sized rump
Is your address the fuckin' City Dump?
How do you wipe...
Ah how do you wipe yer arse?

You look like shit that's melted on an ox
When you lie down you look like Grimsby's docks
You snapped a bra strap and cried "Sagnus Dei!"
And since that's done it's just an udder day
How do you hoist?
Ah how do you hoist your tits?

A pretty face can't last a year or two
It's sitting on 10 stone of smelly goo
The sound of ghoulash stew when you digest
Broke all the windows out in Bucharest.
How do you shave?
Ah how do you shave your twat?

PO' KESHA - FANS FLAME THE FIRE OF FUCKHEADED FANDOM

Oh, a few assholes who want to get their faces in the paper...GOT THEIR FACES IN THE PAPER.

That's the idiot MEDIA for you.

Social media isn't stupid enough? You can't keep your Tweeties to TWATTER and your farces to FACEBOOK?

What kind of fucking protest do you get with about five fuckheads grinning and waving signs about a stupid POP star?

"Hey, we have no lives, and nothing better to do, so we made some signs and drove in from suburbia in Mom's SUV. And now the NEW YORK POST is taking our picture! How great if KESHA notices us and sends us tickets to one of her shoes and a backstage pass! Wooo HOOO!

In this he-said she-said farce, KESHA is whining that she wants OUT of her contract because her Svengali had sex with her a few years ago. Now that she's off drugs and shaving her twat, she can't bear to look at the guy. She doesn't wanna work with him no' mo'.

The Svengali insists he never touched her. He points to a video where she denies all the charges. (She insists she was so frightened of him she briefly recanted her testimony, but now insists she's telling the truth again). He says it's all a smear campaign from one of the sleaziest lawyers in the world (and if he's lying about raping her, he's NOT lying about her having one of the sleaziest lawyers in the world).

The bottom line is that KESHA is worth a fortune to whatever record label has a contract with her. She could do what other acts have done (issue shitty product or buy out of the deal) but she's confident she'll prevail. When a judge told her no, she wasn't instantly getting what she wanted without even a trial, she conveniently burst into tears.

This is one case that has united the Laurel and Hardy of the Pop world, Skinny Taylor Swift and blobulent Adele. Taylor threw $250,000 at Kesha as a show of support and grrrrrl power. Adele simply said she's on Kesha's side. Look, Adele is one fat pig who hoards hamburgers up her twat. Actually thinking about someone else for a MINUTE is amazing for Adele, so don't expect her to write a check.

But back to the fabulous FANS.

Yeah, a real sincere, informed protest. NOT.

A few days ago THE MEDIA were laughing because only a few idiots protested Beyonce and her monkey dancers saluting the Black Panthers. Ha ha. No big deal. Beyonce is wonderful. The proof is how FEW people bothered to take a day off work to make a useless protest at NFL headquartesr on a windy, cold, rainy day just after a snowstorm. And here?

Here the spin is how REMARKABLE it is that a FEW fan idiots came driving in from the suburbs JUST to giggle and smirk in front of SONY headquarters and try to get KESHA to notice them. KESHA might never send them free tix or autographs (which would tend to suggest she set it all up) but second prize for these Razzlers is getting their stupid faces in the paper.

Oh, by the way, guuuuyyyys, you wouldn't have heard of the bitch if it wasn't for SONY and some typical creep of a producer taking a mediocre twat and molding her into a mewling sexpot.

Frankly, there's no shortage of slutty unstable lumps of putty who are willing to do ANYTHING to get a record deal, and as we see from idiots like Viley Virus and Adele on down, it's hardly about the MUSIC at all, it's the production and promotion.

My point here isn't about which overpaid shit pile is telling the truth, KESHA or DR. LUKE, but the even more odious manipulations of the fucking MEDIA. Look how they ridiculously choose what "news" to promote and publicize — based not on merit but either the graft they get or the silly mood they're in.

LES MAGUIRE CHALLENGED ON THE HOLY GRAIL

ARTHUR: By WHAT name are you known?

MAGUIRE: Les Maguire.

ARTHUR: Not much of a Maguire are you, then?

MAGUIRE: No, M'Lord. I am just a humble, forgotten sideman. I stood next to a fellow who amused people by singing "Ferry Across the Mersey."

ARTHUR: WHAT? Some fairy asking for mercy? Not in MY kingdom! Now STAND AND DELIVER THE HOLY GRAIL!

MAGUIRE: It's up for auction, M'Lord. You must bid for it.

ARTHUR: All right, then, I bid you BRING ME the HOLY GRAIL! I am ARTHUR, your KING!

MAGUIRE: Oh, fuck ME, I don't do the housework for 50 years, I need money for a new pacemaker, and people think I was in Herman's Hermits, and now THIS. I have to hand over a treasure because some Royal tells me! Oh, all right. Here you are.

ARTHUR: THIS is THE HOLY GRAIL? You must be mad. Are you...using sarcasm?

MAGUIRE: Let me play it for you, M'lord.

ARTHUR: What kind of witchcraft is this? I hear a voice singing. It sounds like a choirboy singing to the priest who buggered him. What's that line about being SORE?

MAGUIRE: That's "saw," M'Lord. It's how Paul McCartney pronounces "saw."

ARTHUR: PAUL McFUCK ME, never heard of him. What's that line, "Till There were Jews?" Damn, he's got something there. Our Anglo-Saxon country was doing just fine without 'em. Now there are Muzzies, too. The whole country's gone to hell. And here I am, immortal, forced to watch it all, and still hunt for the Holy Grail, and YOU bring me THIS stupid thing.

MAGUIRE: M'Lord, THIS stupid thing will make me a rich man thanks to some extremely stupid gook-faced Japanese who thinks owning vinyl makes him cool.

ARTHUR: Please, shut up. Come along, men. False alarm. Why do ASSHOLES insist on calling every piece of tat "The Holy Grail?"

MAGUIRE: Wait, how about this? A worm curled up in a shell! I found it in the garden. A bird took a few pecks at it.

ARTHUR: That's a holey snail.

MAGUIRE: Maybe you'd like a rare mono copy of The Doors' first album?

STRANGE VOICE: DIMMMMMMMSDALE!!!!

Cheryl Tiegs vs Blobulent Ashley Graham vs Twat Drool

One of the most hyped magazines is the useless SPORTS ILLUSTRATED, which is hanging on by selling...TWAT.

Years ago, before the Internet and rampant cable TV, you needed SPORTS ILLUSTRATED to show you pix of boxing matches you didn't get to see, freeze-frame moments of what you couldn't download as a jpg, and interviews with stars who are now over-exposed and chattering like magpies.

Now? SPORTS ILLUSTRATED flogs its ridiculous SWIMSUIT ISSUE, and wimps who aren't allowed a copy of Playboy or Maxim buy it and drool. Over what. SWIMSUITS? How...QUAINT.

SPORTS ILLUSTRATED's sales were saggier than Susan Sarandon's tits so they upped the ante by featuring celebrities in PAINTED ON swimsuits. And...by hiring attention-getting freaks like ASHLEY GRAHAM.

This year, the fucking hype-machine mag is offering THREE different covers of its swimsuit issue and this is one of them:

What, Kim Kardashian wasn't available?

What's so attractive about a rubber-lipped shit-eyed retard bouncing her blubber?

She's got "some" shape but this could be an NFL Fullback after a sex change.

Compare her to a previous standard of model, Cheryl Tiegers, some 30 years ago.

Tiegs herself is comparing these two covers and she says:

"I don't like that we're talking about full-figured women because it's glamorizing them..."

And she's right. It's like putting lipstick on a pig.

If somebody has a thing for fatties (see: Clinton, Bill and Lewinsky, Monica) fine. A lot of people thought Mama Cass was attractive. People think Adele is attractive. But in sports? As a standard of health and beauty? Hell no.

"Your your waist should be smaller than 35 inches," Tiegs says, quoting one of today's most famous TV health doctors. "That's what Dr. Oz said, and I'm sticking to it." Being a chunk of rubber like the phony-named Ashley Graham (isn't that a porn star or a swinger website?). "No, I don't think it's healthy."

IF I'M BEING HONEST, that's not the best photo I've seen on Cheryl Tiegs, and it's not a great example of a waistline curving in and hips curving out, but there you are. She was a model. She never became an actress with those measurements.

The Bardot-Monroe actress types throughout the last half of the 20th Century, were 36-24-36. Give or take an inch. Think of it. Ashley Graham's waist is bigger than Marilyn Monroe's bust! No, that ain't healthy. I doubt the measurements of Ronda Rousey (another SPORTS ILLUSTRATED cover bitch) are anywhere near those. Ronda is probably more like 34-24-32. (She lands on her butt a lot, and that's flattening)

No, unless you're buying plus size porn, especially to get fleshier views of boobs and ass, you want an hour glass figure. A slim waist.

Most women aren't close to 36-24-36 perfection, but to be considered attractive, being a FEW inches softer in the middle is ok. Today gruesome fat women are trying to justify jamming their cake holes and insisting it's "natural" and "attractive" having a waist BIGGER than Marilyn Monroe's tits! Only they also have double chins and waddle when they walk. They literally want to have their cake and eat it, too. We live in a world of sport-eating, eating-contests and snacking as recreation. "Hey, let's go out and have a pizza...then we'll have dinner in a few hours..."

Granted, "supersizing" is part of human growth. Humans keep getting bigger. Even so, take a look at female and male sports stars. Most tennis ladies are still thin, whether they are smaller (Martina Hingis) or taller (Anna Sharapova). Obviously it's not healthy to be a 200 pound slob gasping after 10 minutes.

Men? Take boxers? Even if the average height is 5'8 up from 5'7 (or whatever it is), there are still plenty of lightweights, welterweights and middleweights, and all have flat stomachs. Even most of the heavyweights are in proportion. They don't have weightlifter bellies.

Meanwhile SPORTS ILLUSTRATED has gotten its shock publicity and has made enough off their SWIMSUIT ISSUE fetish to keep going as a rather SLIM magazine not nearly as HEAVY as it used to be.

People are still attracted to a Heidi Klum at 40, or a Cheryl Tiegs or Sophia Loren, too. But imagine that human rock-slide Ashley Graham at 40, without her make-up team and her wig and an extra-strength swimsuit cinching her in. That's one thunder-thighed blobulent NIGHTMARE.

Amy Wagstaff Wetone Anticipates Success

Says extra-chunky Amy Wagstaff Wetone:

"I know my GooTube readings of "Pie and Peach Juice" have not been a success. I mean, I eat an entire pie for breakfast, and a quart of peach juice, but nobody wants to hear me slobber and gurgle about it every day. I've described my breakfasts six or seven times so far, a chapter on each breakfast, and I've gotten very few hits, but several kicks and a dirty look or two."

Amy natters on: "OK, so I whined and wheedled on Kickstarter and got people to PAY for me to do readings on GooTube. And nobody's been viewing me. I know things will be better when Darren and I make our debut as a singing duo. You know, before my hobby of drawing diseases, or reading dreary drivel, I was an amateur singer."

Indeed, here's a picture of her hitting a high note.

After she hit that note, she was kicked in the twat. "I got the last laugh," Amy explains, "when the bastard had to go storming off with only one shoe."

Some time later she took guitar lessons from Geoff Whitewhore. Geoff got exasperated, pulled down his pants and gored Amy with his White Horny underpants.

Amy admits it was a setback. In fact, she was set back about five feet, and landed on a soggy bush. It was her own.

"The next group I joined was Boko Haram. I got an instrument, and I waved the thing all over the place; practiced till I was black in the face." The instrument was a speculum. She inserted it in her twat and played it like a castanet, but the Boko bunch wasn't impressed. Put it this way, Amy was the first woman they didn't rape. They were going to send her home by barge, but realized she was one. With the Somali Pirates refusing to board her, she returned safely to England, and beached herself in Grimsby.

It was then that the Council vowed to do something about the unsightly and smelly docks. Everyone's still waiting. But the smell of rotten fish isn't Amy. Under cover of night, she was dragged away by Darren and Bill. She is once again attempting to learn an actual musical instrument.

"I keep asking Darren to plug it in, and he keeps refusing. Doesn't he know I mean the electric guitar? Darren has his own problems. He has this little whistle he keeps zippered in his pocket. At least, I think it's the zipper to his pocket. And I think it's a little whistle. I've asked him to take it out and blow it for me, and he shivers and shakes his head. As far as I know, the only other instrument he plays is the top of his head. He cracks his knuckles on his bald noggin, opens his mouth, and an echo sound comes out. Sometimes I hear a lyric line, like "I got this in the mail from Amazon..." Which he repeats endlessly."

Amy isn't sure when the duo will be ready to perform. She's not even sure if her duo is "THAT PRICK" or "PRICK THAT."

She admits, "I hope Darren doesn't go with "PRICK THAT." One day I heard somebody behind me say "PRICK THAT," and I felt a pin in my arse. I began flying around the room backwards and landed flat on my face. It did improve my features, but I wouldn't want to go through it again. For one thing, it alarmed weather forecasters all over the country who wondered where the earthquake was."

LIMERICKS AND THAT

Desperate times call for desperate amusement...

LIMERICKS AND THAT!

Fat Amy one night got so hot
That her slut-slit was slicker than snot
She blacked out, got fucked
Nine months later, what luck:
A Hottentot crawled from her twat

"It's prejudice" poor Amy cried,
"I've a dark child but I'm feeling PRIDE!
I'm convinced that it's brown
'Cause I shagged upside down
And the kid popped out from my back side!"

Fat Darren told Amy, "Poor you!
But I've troubles 'a plenty, it's true.
I've a pregnant sensation.
It's from constipation:
My anus holds nine months of poo!

Just then Shauna cried out "Your smells
Are like dog shit left burning in hell."
Darren cried, "That's not fair
It's your shaved pubic hair
That I've stored in some rotten clam shells."

Shauna answered, "I'm really no skank
It's Amy and Darren that's rank
But together their dumps
Ain't as bad as the lumps
In the diaper of Bill Hoobastank!

Erin Ranahan? GAG THIS STUPID BITCH WITH HER PANTIES

I guess lawyers will just take the money if it's offered. They don't care how STUPID and GREEDY it makes them look. They're hired to defend a shit-for-brains, and the smell rubs off? Too bad. MONEY is a wonderful deodorant.

I refer to some twat named Erin Ranahan who is defending copyright theft and a blatant violation of intellectual property. She got her headlines.

Need I even go on?

That this case is even in front of a judge is outrageous. Hopefully it'll mean that the moron "fans" will LOSE and also PAY punitive damages and court fees. That'll teach 'em to shut the FUCK up with their "don't ruin our fun" self-entitlement. Maybe a judge will also say, "Gag Erin Ranahan with her panties. I'm TIRED of hearing her twaddle."

Yes, bailiff, reach under her skirt, pull her panties down and shove 'em in her yap.

Copyright means no dimwit can start making Mickey Mouse or Beatles cartoons. No asshole can say "I'm Batman's Son" and market his own line of comic books. It means we don't have to wait through dozens of "Rocky" and "Star Wars" movies that don't have the quality of the real thing. We're spared morons saying "The fine print in the ads admit it's UNAUTHORIZED, and you can see Sly Stallone and Harrison Ford aren't in 'em, and we're just having some fun..."

CHRIST, what nerve, to "crowdfund" a project using someone else's creations. Listen, as stupid as Three Stooges fans are, when some fuckhead was on Farcebook nyuking about how he wanted everyone to go on Kickstarter and help him raise money for colorized trading cards or a Halloween mask with Moe's face on it, he admitted: "Most of the money I need goes to LICENSING FEES."

Yes. LICENSING. Obeying copyright, trademark and intellectual property. It prevents ANY CUNTWELL or COCKBRAIN from being a fucking parasite and taking a bite out of the profits. Some jerk decided he'd be "Peter Lorre Jr." and change his name, and he found himself in court. Motivated by greed, fame, or just fanboy groveling, you are NOT ENTITLED to TAKE advantage of somebody else.

STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID!

I suppose this twat Erin Ranahan has to put on some kind of a show, but to suggest that copyright owners should look the other way because they're disappointing FANS is BULLSHIT.

LICENSING means you go to the company and say "I want to make posters...I want to make an action figure...I want to create a musical based on your characters..."

Then you wait. And if you don't have an agent, and if you're an idiot, maybe you wait forever. FUCK YOU. This is a business. Who told YOU to take a slice?

You want to open a pizza shop and call it "Papa John Jr." because you're a FAN of the Papa John chain? Get permission. What's your fucking self-entitled rationale? "Oh, hey, people can tell it's not a franchise, I'm just having FUN. It's a tribute. I'm just getting free publicity and a lot more attention than if I called my joint "Papa Luigi." And you'll actually be a stubborn little prick and pay a twat named Erin Ranahan to stomp around in a courtroom like MOMMY and defend her little BOY for being...A FAN?"

It's one thing for a fanboy to wander around a memorabilia show dressed as a Klingon. It's quite another to go on Kickstarter or GoFundMe and declare, "Hey, gimme money so I can make a kewl film where Sulu fucks Klingons in the ass. Or what if the Starship Enterprise became an intergalactic whorehouse? Haw haw! I'll use trademarked names and copyrighted uniforms, and it'll be SOOOOOO great!! Why should Paramount complain? They're making millions, and I don't see how MY movie would hurt theirs."

Of course is the FAN simply made a space alien film using his own silly names and made-up costumes nobody would go see it. He can't even figure out how to write up a character, just steal the personality off some famous one instead. That's why he's being a parasite and COPYING and STEALING. And his lame excuse is "DON'T RUIN MY FUN?"

Erin Ranahan is a lawyer so nothing embarrasses her. Lawyers defend murderers, saying"he had too many sugar cookies that day" to "he has AFFLUENZA and is too rich to know right from wrong" to "if his fingerprints were at the scene it's because he's being framed."

If I were the judge I'd say right now, "This is your last chance, assholes. You fanboys are going to walk out NOW or you will not only PAY for your MOMMY LAWYER, but you're going to pay Paramount's legal fees down to the last fucking penny. Now, I'm gagging Erin Ranahan with her own panties, so she can't advise you on how important it is for HER to get publicity for herself. I will demand that YOU stand up and speak instead. Are you going to GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY COURTROOM NOW, are you going to lose EVERY fucking penny YOU and YOUR PARENTS have?"

End of case. Let the brats go sobbing out the door muttering, "They ruined our fun..."

No Justice for Jessica, but No Censorship on Farcebook

If this wasn't the 21st Century, where atrocities occur every day, the Jessica Chambers case would've attracted continuous national attention. You know, like the Trayyyyvon case. Oh. But then again, this was a white girl who got killed. White lives don't matter.

What happened? A girl in a rural Mississippi town was discovered staggering down the road, burned over almost her entire body. 98% they said. What DIDN'T burn?

"The killer squirted lighter fluid down her throat, and into her nose, before lighting her ablaze, but reports say Fire Chief Cole Haley heard her say a man’s name, either Eric or Derrick, despite having charred vocal chords."

She was last seen stopping at a gas station that also had a store area which had three niggas hanging around up to no good. None of them seemed to have followed her when she pumped her own gas and drove off. Who she met (when she had called her mother and said she'd be right home) and why she was set on fire...were questions quickly forgotten, since the victim was a mere white girl. For her to die in such a sadistic way maybe meant she pissed off some creepy guy she was stupidly dating, or had stupidly rejected.

A case that should've stayed on the front pages (like Trayyyyvon) disappeared. The police claimed to have no suspects. The media moved on to new amusing atrocities, like ISIS torture. They also spent weeks and weeks fanning the flames of rioters and lunatics by NEVER dropping any case of a black career criminal merely shot by cops resisting arrest (as opposed to being innocent and set on fire).

A full fucking YEAR passed.

That's a bit slow, isn't it? This is a dinky little Southern town where everybody knows each other. Nobody's talking? Nobody's keeping the pressure on?

Once in a while, an Inquistr, Decidr, Gawker, Mashable, Mushable or Flushable would mention that the cops were busting gang members. But where was the larger question: WHY allow gang members around to burglarize, intimidate, and work that ISIS-like bullshit of being so "bad" that dopey white girls come running? Why not run 'em out of town?

A year after she died, it was blame the victim time. She was hangin' wid da niggas, right, yo?

Christmas of 2015. This piece insisted that the girl knew her killer (and therefore asked for it and got what she deserved):

"Friends of the 19-year-old cheerleader said the girl started to run with a rough crowd before she died. 'I think she was making friends with the wrong people, with drug dealers,' explained ex-boyfriend Bryan Rudd, according to People magazine. “She did nothing that was bad to get herself burnt alive.'"

Gee, Bryan that's mighty white of you. What DOES a 19 year-old girl do that IS bad enough to get burnt alive? What kind of monsters and maniacs are there in Mississippi that don't find this act totally heinous?

Killed December 7, 2014, and the best this crappy town of white trash and black monsters could do for Jessica was rattle the cage and bust some of the troublemakers for minor violations. Her family ached every day and actually had sympathy for the cops trying to pore over cell phone records and CCTV footage to find out which monkeys were in the area and without an alibi. Was this the work of out-of-town rednecks having a thrill? Some mysterious motorist suddenly singling out a girl in a way that would make Wes Craven puke?

Finally, the other day, one of those six was finally charged with killing Jessica in what ghetto animals like to call "a personal way," that "sent a message." That would be to let other white girls know they better put out? Or let fellow gang members know they've got a cool killer in their midst who is one real nasty muthafucka?

The same man is also charged with using the credit cards of an Asian girl who, what a coincidence, was murdered.

No surprise, the simian in question has the usual long police record, and had been given many slaps on his wrist. Back in 2010 he was sentenced to five years in prison. Somehow he got out and for more drug dealing and burglary fun. In June of 2011 he was back in jail, and with two extra burglary convictions added in December 2011 and February 2012, he was supposed to be canned for five to eight years. Yet, he was waving bye bye in October of 2014. Within two months, he had met...and murdered...Jessica Chambers.

After the crime he continued dealing drugs, moved off to Louisiana, used the credit card of a murdered Asian, and was actually in jail by the time cops finally decided to charge him with Jessica's death the other day.

Nobody's considering this a hate crime because that only applies to blacks with police records, and thuggish jerks like Trayyyyyvon. You might remember the case of Chris Lane, shot in the back by three rap-loving blacks. The police chief in the case insisted it wasn't racially motivated, it was just that these kids were "bored." Right. Only they made sure to target a white guy.

Here's someone who turned a white girl black and charred, and who may or may not have killed an Asian girl (maybe he jus' stoled her credit card). The excuse for nobody getting outraged about this is, hey, he was part of a gang, and gang members have a hobby of being brutal-as-they-wanna-be, and that's their culture, yo. So, chill.

The Justice for Jessica page on Farcebook spent a year simply reminding everyone that her murder was unsolved. NOW? She's Saint Jessica the Martyr, and up in heaven:

She's an ANGEL, and with her savior JESUS.

Just why JESUS would want some girl in Mississippi tortured and prematurely sent to a gruesome death, and how she turned from a charred and disfigured horror into an "angel," well, I don't think even Pope Francis would be able to explain it or put his faith in it.

At least there are SOME pages on Farcebook where people can leave truthful, angry comments about a disgusting example of 21st Century savagery.

Most Internet news pages don't allow comments, or make sure to restrict "Freedom of Speech" and "monitor" everything lest somebody write something too truthful and NOT politically correct. So a mild "thanks" to Farcebook for allowing SOME people to say what's on their mind.

PS, Grimsby Tell-a-Laugh, automatically switching "wankel rotary" in a reference to the engine, to "****kel rotary" is ALMOST laughable. A n****r burning up a white girl isn't.

We're all enjoying the 21st Century, where climate change makes it hell, and where savages literally bring hellfire to the innocent, and are praised for their religious fundamentalism, or their cool savagery. They get free room and board and fan mail for the rest of their long, long lives. And like most monkeys at the zoo, being behind bars is hardly a punishment at all.