He outright GRINS when he waddles over to the grave of a celebrity and stands next to it, or squats on top of it. "Here I am, meeting Rod Serling!"
The tubby virgin gay librarian goes on field trips to any cemetery in the tri-state area, if it has a celebrity. We can all understand a bit of morbid curiosity: what does the grave look like? What's on the tombstone? What kind of emotion can be stirred by confronting the final resting place of a vibrant star? How about the wistful feeling of superiority that this famous person is DEAD and you are NOT?
But most of us, if we DO visit ONE or TWO cemeteries ONCE in a WHILE, don't take SELFIES. We don't grin in front of a tombstone and act like we've actually MET A STAR.
Bill would insist he's not just a porcine, homely loser. He thinks he isn't physically repulsive, and that a photo of him at a tombstone is something most anyone would treasure. Besides...he's "paying respects." Yeah. How fucking idiotic is that? Does Rod Serling know that a fat hulking moron in shit-stained adult diapers is smiling and having a photo taken at his grave? "Paying respects" indeed.
Can we please have a less frivolous reason to visit graves?
A few months ago, we had one, in the form of a pious fanboy who likes to find unmarked graves of obscure blues artists. Every nigga deserves a corny slogan on a fresh tombstone, courtesy of a spindly white "music buff." I mean, that's better than donating the money to the NCAAP. You won't get an article written about yourself for THAT. And why give a fiverrrr to some black guy hanging around on a street corner selling bootleg CDs? You want to prove you're a pissy lily-white who happens to have a profound appreciation and affinity for the black man's music. In fact, MORE than the black man, because you can write a wordy dissertation about it, complete with a socio-economic history of the Delta region.
Oh. You're right. This IS another example of a creepy necrophile asshole.
Again:
CAN WE PLEASE HAVE A LESS FRIVOLOUS REASON TO VISIT GRAVES????
Ah. That porcine redneck over there. Step forward. Show us yer blog. Show us one of your prize photos! Make it two! Make it THREE!!!
As the "Frenzy" psycho murderer liked to say: "LOVELY...LOVELY..."
Why, you ask, is a fat, bacon-sucking cheese eating redneck retard standing around trying to look KEWL in graveyards?
Why, in some poses, does he wear an expression of bitter chagrin, as if he personally knew the deceased, and is enraged that this person is not still around, living to the age of 207?
Our redneck friend is obviously no mere Hoobstank!
He's no mere fanboy1
Unlike the two necrophile nitwits previously noted here, THIS pudgy wonder is...
an HISTORIAN.
He is also...a HERRING. A fucking fat fish with a brain the size of a snail.
He doesn't merely seek out celebrities, or obscure musicians for his selfies.
He travels far and wide...
...to visit the GRAVES of the parents of Presidents! Hey, the Presidents? Nah. Everybody does THAT. Too much competition. But how many people seek out the GRAVES of the PARENTS of PRESIDENTS! Ahhhhhh! Genius! How admirable! What a scholar!
This fat-faced pork-rind loving good ol' boy Republican homo-hater MIGHT just own a pick-up truck and go around fleecing hapless motorists. He MIGHT own a bait shack and over-charge tourists for a row boat to go fishing for carp on a lake. He MIGHT have a lazy government job as a prison guard or a toilet-cleaning custodian in a local high school.
BUT...he's a damn scholar. He's the brightest crayon in the box, y'all, 'cause he has a BLOG where he shows off all the cemeteries where he's been.
He knows a durn lot about the PARENTS of PRESIDENTS, and he even knows whether a President was raised by his father OR...take a lookie-see, his UNCLE! Das right, here's a grave of an UNCLE who raised a PRESIDENT! Now THAT is dedicated scholarship, y'all.
Look at that expression. What a emotion. Or maybe he just stepped in squirrel shit.
Unlike Hoobastank, our redneck scholar ain't no virgin-homo. Nossir.
Let's get a picture of him AND the Missus! Yessir, sometimes he drags Two-Ton Wifey along and they stay in a Motel 6 or something, and fill up at the PANCAKE HOUSE before they take their trek to an obscure cemetery for that valuable photo op.
YEEEEEEE HAH! This guy can go to North Carolina or South Carolina or Virginia or Ohio or just about anywhere a dead presidents' folks might be buried. That's a perk of living in a trailer, and being happy eating hotdogs, macaroni and cheese, and road kill. Low rent and being overpaid at some idiotic job...and there you are, wandering around cemeteries taking kewl pictures in sunglasses, or grimacing in close-ups.
YEEEEEEE HAW! While Bill Hoobastank is a tub of shit who can't get laid, THIS beer-bellied porker has himself some twat! Only we call it POONTANG, doncha know!
And this good ol' boy has a workin' peter. It might be small, but it gets the job done.
What a lovely photo, as his daughter wanders around the grave, with a clearly deep and profound understanding of history, just like her daddy!
He's got a hold of her, and he takes this picture with appropriate gravity. It means SO much to American history, that we can all see a picture of an obscure parent of a President...with a fat lummox fat frog squatting there, making sure his tadpole is in the picture, too.
See, some day SHE will have a blog, and she will have copies of all these pictures. Her blog will be "Portraits of the Parent of a $10 Meth-addicted Southern Cracker Whore. Please leave some money in my tip jar so I don't have to fuck so many Niggas at a dollar each."
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