I tried embedding the video, but son-of-a-bitch Hulu was cock-blocking all over the place. Just hit the link you lazy bastard.

Intense Debate can lick my chocolate salty balls. Why do I have to sign up for an extra comment system when I’m already LOGGED IN AS A REGISTERED USER of the blog? I guess that my comments will just have to be approved every single time, which means more work for the LIAR, so I’m cool with that. I’ll ramp up my commenting just to make sure he gets more email notifications, then has to login and approve my comments every single time. Although eventually that might cause him to disapprove my comments, at which point I’ll accuse him of being a fascist who’s hell-bent on single-handedly crushing free-speech on the Internets.

The defense breasts.

Now, while my video is a total movie rip-off, these ungrateful cocksmokers who didn’t thank me for leading them towards the path of enlightenment (aka xtranormal.com) have created their own original masterpieces:

holySmith – Conversations with a 2-year-old

Chicken Effed Bacon – Chicken effed Bacon’s Bacon of the Month Club Monthly Bacon Review and Report

Still waiting on my fruit basket… or whatever the hell is the customary “thank you” gift from honkeys.

Ultimately, the decision comes down to this: can my balls take it?

Now, my balls are as tough as the next man’s, but if there is one thing I totally wuss out on is chilling my grapefruits like if they were warm beers in desperate need of a cooldown. I can wet my feet and legs up to my knees, or I can splash icy cold water on my head, arms, and upper torso – but just as my balls retract as deep as they can into my scrotum, I completely shy away from the absolute terror that is the sensation of cold water surrounding my nutsack.

There is only one way I have managed to overcome the dread of exposing my beloved testicles to the harsh conditions of the frozen tundra – and that is by combining the shock of cold balls with the rest of my body by diving in entirely so as to spread the impact and divert attention away from my coinpurse. I’ve done this in the freezing fucking waters of mountain-side caves in Hawaii, the gonad-shattering waterfall pool somewhere in the upper Salt River and the occasional cold pools here and there.

I wasn’t able to do that, however, at an awesome little lake in the otherwise forsaken desolate wasteland that is Yuma this past weekend, as I made the careless mistake of taking a couple steps into the beach. That was enough to frighten the piss out of my balls (almost literally). I had past the point of no return. There would be no shock-absorbing plunge. For the rest of the day I sat my ass on a chair placed right on the edge of the tide, drinking beer, eating barbecued chicken and pork, only wetting up to my ankles at any point.

Although I would’ve liked to go for a swim in an all-natural, man-made lake, I couldn’t help but to do the Tiger fist-pump knowing that I had protected the family jewels from the elements once more. Fuck cold balls.

Fun Comment Challenge: Can you count how many different terms I used to describe my hairy twins (including that one)?

Anyways, just to provide some background info, in the post Jeley describes the devastating deliciousity of his monthly bacon shipments. Then my jealous bitching commences:

#3 by  El Gammy  on March 16th, 2009 – 4:35 pm

When I first heard the news that you joined the Bacon of the Month Club, I thought – indirectly – your experiences would bring us closer together.

But after reading yet another post about you gluttonizing on bacon, I feel we’ve drifted apart. Yes Jeley, you and I are Pangaea. And a 2nd yes… I just used “gluttonizing” in a sentence.

#4 by  Jason  on March 16th, 2009 – 9:16 pm

I’m a selfish dick…I’ve reconciled that.

It’s Bacon of the Month Club not Provide a Soup Kitchen for Bacon Lovers Club. Git yer pwn!

#5 by El Gammy on March 17th, 2009 – 8:33 am

Get my own? In the words of the great Dave Chappelle: “I’m broke Nigga, I’m broke!!”

If you’re offended by my use of “the N-word,” don’t be: I’m a beaner. Minorities get free passes when it comes to racial slurs. You goddamn crackers. See?

#6 by El Gammy on March 17th, 2009 – 8:46 am

Also, I just realized that “crackers” is the weakest of all the racial slurs for any race. There has GOT to be a better racial slur for white folks than “crackers.” In fact, I’m not even sure “crackers” should be considered a racial slur.

I just looked up why “cracker” is considered a pejorative term for white folks. Apparently, it’s because white slave owners would “crack” the whip on their slaves if they got out of line or just for the hell of it, hence the term “cracker.” That makes “cracker” ever the more bullshit racial slur, because the term is empowering white folks rather than degrading them like a good, wholesome racial slur should.

I’m gonna do some research and inner soul-searching to come up with a better racist term for white devils. In the meantime, I guess it’ll default to honkey. Just cuz honkey sounds weak and lame… which is more fitting to bastards WHO WON’T SHARE THEIR FUCKING BACON!!

No offense, Jeley. Just suffering from BDD (bacon deficit disorder).

• The Rock aka Dwayne Johnson
• Matthew McConaughey
• Christian Bale
• Raja Bell

Today, I’d like to announce the addition of Noah Bennett aka Horn-Rimmed Glasses (HRG) aka Jack Coleman to that list. Here he is embracing the daughter he had with some undoubtedly ungrateful woman instead of gay-adopting with me:

Unlike the others on this list whose looks actually do come into play when qualifying, Bennett is the first to make it based purely and entirely on his bad-assery, as exhibited on Heroes week in and week out for 3 seasons now. Despite the fact that he’s not one of the show’s “extraordinary” humans, he uses his gigantic brain and titanic balls to face some of the Heroes’ universe most powerful jerks, while also dealing with unprecedented douche-sticks like Douchehinder Suresh and Mama Petrelli.

Never once does he flinch, or cower in the face of impending doom, instead showing a blatant disregard for his own personal safety when it comes to protecting his seemingly immortal, linebacker-shoulder-having daughter Claire. As a father, I can certainly understand protecting your youngins at all costs, and I appreciate the lengths Bennett goes to keep his family safe, even if it means being the occassional dick (it’s part of being a good father).

Please join me in celebrating the induction of Noah Bennett into the official El Gammy Man-Crush List by looking at his creepy stare through the infamous HRGs. For 8 out of 10 douchenozzles on Heroes, it’ll be the last stare they see.

Anyways, I learned through an old episode of South Park that Aslan – the all-powerful, all-knowing, majestic talking lion – is an allegory for jesus christ. After watching the first movie, that was made painfully obvious, as the lion is resurrected and comes back to save his particular legion of freaks. He also breathes on solidified soldiers to give them life, so it’s pretty well-established that he’s supposed to be some sort of magician just like jesus.

Moving on, in Chronicles of Douchnia: Prince Bagspian, the smelly British kids go back to Narnia only to discover that Aslan is gone and most of their talking creature friends have fallen victims to genocide at the hands of the evil human “Telmarine” race.  Sure enough, they find their weapons and set out to make things right by battling the evil Telmarinian king and his armies. A decent battle ensues and countless creatures and humans die needlessly.

During all this time, the Brit kid with the most fucked-up teeth keeps insisting that the only way to avoid getting slaughtered is to find Aslan. The other kids and creatures ignore her, continue with their silly plans, and keep racking up those casualties. Finally, as Prince Bagspian and his half-human half-horse freaks make their last charge into their impending death, good ole’ Aslan comes along and saves the day by bringing the trees in the forest to life and calling upon Apollo (apparently) to wash their troubles away and drown their enemies in a furious display of waterworks and CGI.

So here’s my gripe: the entire time his people were getting killed (we’re talking hundreds of years here), Azlan was just sitting on his lazy feline ass in the middle of the forest, watching the genocide from his front-row seat. Why didn’t he help his people? Why did he wait until virtually every last minotaur, centaur and dwarf were killed before helping them out?

With his astonishing magic tricks, he could’ve prevented the Telmarinians from killing 80% of the Narnian population, not just put a timely stop to the final battle. And all he needed to do was go up to some trees and give a few roars – it’s not like he had to do any real work by suiting up and biting some fucking heads off (I wish). The only reason why he came out of hiding in the first place was because Toothy Brit Kid managed to find him in the forest and beg him for help. If she hadn’t been so goddamn “faithful,” he would’ve just remained in the woods while the last of his creatures got their comeuppance.

What’s even more astonishing is that none of the forsaken creatures ever go up to him and ask him “where the fuck were you?” or “what took you so fucking long?” Nope. They’re just all relieved that he’s finally there so they can bask in the splendor that is his mane.

I guess if the author of these book-flicks is trying to continue the jesus allegory then it sort of makes sense, since supposedly the second coming will be at Israel’s darkest hour. But still, this movie isn’t the apocalypse revisited and I expect a better explanation of why shit happened than what we get from the bible. Otherwise I’d still be a holy-roly sucker in a local hypocrisy center (aka a church).

Therefore, I call bullshit on Chronicles of Douchnia: Prince Bagspian. Screw Aslan and his worship-needs. If I were one of the last Narnian creatures I would’ve called for his Jewish… err… feline ass to be crucified right then and there. Selfish prick.

For some reason, each of these suck-fucking, house-cat rat dicks thought they were entitled to make their left turn in front of me, before I made my left into the establishment they were about to come out of. I know this scenario may be a bit difficult to visualize, so if you’re too stupid to put it together using my awesome and extremely accurate written description, I took the liberty of whipping out Paint to draw it out for your feeble mind:

But here’s what really grinds my gears about these jackoffs, it’s not the fact that they almost crashed into me – hell, even I’ll admit to not seeing a car every now and then – it’s the fact that after I swerved away to avoid the accident and they slam on their brakes, they do that move where they throw their hands up in the air and look at me like I’m the imbecile. They make that face that’s half-confusion, half-disgust and 100% douchebag (you know what I’m talking about… think about it). The kind of face that you cannot resist punching if you’re within the general vicinity. Yeah, that one.

Anyway, they don’t have a fucking clue that I’VE GOT THE FUCKING RIGHT OF WAY, and that they’re supposed to wait to make their turn until after I’ve made mine.

Unfortunately in both of these recent mishaps, I’ve had my windows up and therefore didn’t have time to yell out the obligatory profanities and racial/feminist slurs as they turned away. So instead of taking out some of those frustrations out on the road, where they belong, here I am bitching about it on The Blog of Death. Sigh…

I sued Delta Airlines
‘Cause they sold me a ticket to New Jersey
I went there, and it sucked!

I sued Colorado
‘Cause you know, I think it looks a little bit too much
Like Wyoming

If I sprain my ankle
While I’m robbing your place…

If I hurt my knuckles
When I punch you in the face…

I’m gonna sue, sue
Yes, I’m gonna sue
Sue, sue, yeah that’s what I’m gonna do

Anyways, after coming across this gem on the wonderful world of the Internet, I have no doubt in my mind that Weird Al’s lawyer during these hard-fought court battles was none other than Sue H. Yoo of the Sullivan and Cromwell firm. I can’t make this stuff up people.