Washington, DC and Ukraine – The following is the recently unclassified telephone conversation between President Trump of America, and President Zelensky of Ukraine. While this material is unclassified, it is still considered sensitive, and may not be suitable for all ages.Trump-Call-2
Palo Alto, CA – A team of climatologists in, of all places, Silicon Valley, may have some rather ‘warming’ news, with regards to every day people clicking “like”, “share”, or “retweet” on articles pertaining to climate change.
Said lead scientist, Dr. David Bulshitzky, “We’re seeing a direct correlation between how human beings react to articles on social media, and how that may positively impact the longevity of our planet.” While Dr. Bulshitzky considers himself a traditional scientist, he now believes that “sending positive vibes” and sharing Greta Thunberg stories could add several millimeters of ice to our glaciers, provided people continue clicking “like” on Facebook. He also implores Instagram’s community of famous influencers to post pictures of themselves drinking Cristal thru paper straws, as “every little bit helps” and can even “offset the damage they do living their every day best lives, which includes private jetting.”
While Dr. Bulshitzky and his team are encouraged by the initial findings, he would like to stress their research is in the early stages, and that the general public should remain cautiously optimistic. “While clicking buttons on social media is good for, like, you know, karma, and that momentary hit of dopamine that gives the average person a false sense of feeling like they actually matter, we should keep in mind that it’s going to take more than that, and more than just protests, as they themselves can actually impact the climate. As an example, we’ve seen negative behavior during recent protests such as littering, starting fires, using public transportation, throwing glitter, taking Uber, defecating behind a Rite-Aid, etc., that has actually left more of a carbon footprint than had protesters simply never left their homes. So, while people’s hearts are generally in the right place, these kinds of patterns would help to explain the recent surge of people voicing their uneducated opinions on social media, but not making a single change to their every day behavior to actually improve anything.”
When asked if he believes Earth has anywhere from 1 year to 12 years remaining, as some have suggested without evidence, Bulshitzky could only laugh as he shook his head and said “No, no. If that were the case, I can assure you that my team and I would no longer be doing research. We would remove our lab coats, turn out the lights, and then go out carousing with prostitutes.”
Please click “Like” below to help save the planet, one click at a time.
NY Post – An Iowa hog farmer was found guilty of first-degree murder this week in the rage-fueled corn-rake slaying of his wife, who was reportedly having an affair. Todd M. Mullis, 43, was convicted Monday in the November slaying of Amy Mullis, 39, at their farm about 40 miles west of Dubuque.
Jurors came to their verdict after about 7½ hours of deliberations spanning two days. Prosecutors charged that Todd Mullis had wanted to kill his wife for four years and was fuming that she was having an affair. He worried that he’d lose his farm if she divorced him. That claim was backed up by Jerry Frasher, who testified during the trial that he was having an affair with Amy Mullis.
“I know she wasn’t happy,” said Frasher, a hog farm field manager. “She said she felt like a slave or a hostage around there. She said she was wanting [to leave Todd]. One time, she said if he ever found out [about the affair], she would disappear.” Authorities initially reported that Amy fell and landed on the corn rake.
Todd told investigators that the couple’s son found Amy impaled on the four-pronged rake, which he removed before driving her to the hospital, where she was later declared dead. But in December, an autopsy revealed that the woman had six puncture wounds — not four — and her death was ruled a homicide.
Police also revealed that Todd searched disturbing topics online, including “organs in the body,” “killing unfaithful women” and “what happened to cheating spouses in historic Aztec tribes.”
But during the trial, Todd’s attorney suggested Amy startled someone in the farm’s shed — prompting that person to impale her in the back while Todd worked in a nearby barn. The jury clearly sided with the prosecution.
You have to give the defense attorney credit for creating the “she must have startled someone other than Todd, then they corn raked the shit out of her” theory. Although, you’d like to think it takes more than being startled to impale someone, which is why it’s common for us to clutch our chest and say “oh my heavens, you startled me”, and everyone has a good laugh once the goose bumps go down. We don’t get startled and go “oh YEAH? (looking around for a sharp instrument) Well take THIS you motherfucker” and then plunge a meat cleaver into their chest. That’s not how startling works, otherwise there would be dead bodies literally everywhere. Unfortunately for defense attorneys, sometimes your client leaves you nothing to work with, especially when they are doing moronic Google searches that ultimately become Exhibit A in the murder trial.
Among the several, guilty verdict inducing Google searches here, “killing unfaithful women” has to be my favorite. I’m not even going to waste my time searching that, because I already know how the results come back: “Kill them the same way you’d kill anyone else.” Perhaps the most puzzling search he tried was “organs in the body”, because, to be honest, once you’re past the third grade you should have a pretty good grasp of what’s in there. And finally, “how did the Aztecs deal with cheating spouses in ye olden days.” Well, spoiler alert, Todd, they didn’t go to fucking marriage counseling. It was probably just like in the movie “Apocalypto”, they’d bring the chick to the top of the pyramid, cut off her head, then roll it down the stairs almost like a reverse Skee Ball. And even though this was all enough to convict, at least Todd had enough common sense not to search “how to kill someone with one of the corn rakes that says ‘Property of Todd’s Pig Farm’ on it.”
Finally, how about this guy Jerry Frasher? Lucky for him Todd didn’t search “how should I kill a certain hog field manager?” Speaking of which, that sounds like the easiest job of all time. Other than building a fence around the field so the pigs can’t get out, and making sure there’s enough slop for them to eat, what else is there to do? I guess, looking back, one of the high priority items booked on Jerry’s hectic schedule was banging Todd’s wife.
Ladies and Gentlemen, please rise for the future first female president of the United States…..Ivanka Trump! We hear a lot of talk about Michelle Obama, Elizabeth Warren, or even, ick, Hillary Clinton, being women of style and grace, but this is class personified. Her ensemble is made up of a Prada skirt, black heels, and a silk blue button up top that probably wasn’t purchased from Kohl’s which stands absolutely no chance against those two nipples. Fortunately, we don’t operate in the same circles, otherwise…
Ivanka: “Hi, I’m Ivanka, nice to meet you.”
Me: “Hi, I’m Martin Nipples. Are you from around this areola I MEAN AREA?”
NY Post – A dream vacation turned into the stuff of nightmares when a man died while proposing to his girlfriend underwater, according to a report.
Steven Weber Jr. and Kenesha Antoine were vacationing in Tanzania and staying in an overwater bungalow with a bedroom submerged in the sea when Weber Jr. popped the question early Friday, the Louisiana Advocate reported.
A video Antoine posted to Facebook shows him swimming up to the bedroom window with a plastic-wrapped note and a ring box.
“I can’t hold my breath long enough to tell you everything I love about you,” the note read. “BUT . . . everything I love about you I love more EVERY DAY!
“Will you please be my WIFE? Marry me??”
Antoine can be heard laughing with excitement in the background.
Wearing a snorkeling mask and fins, Weber Jr. is seen swimming back up to the surface, but he never made it to the top, Antoine said.
“You never emerged from those depths, so you never got to hear my answer, ‘Yes! Yes! A million times, yes, I will marry you!!’” Antoine wrote in the heart-wrenching social media post. “We never got to embrace and celebrate the beginning of the rest of our lives together, as the best day of our lives turned into the worst, in the cruelest twist of fate imaginable.”
The post shows the couple in happier moments on their trip: during a safari with a giraffe in the backdrop and giving their Facebook friends a tour of their tropical abode.
It’s unclear how Weber Jr., a residential assistant at an addiction rehab center in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, died.
What do you mean, it’s unclear how he died? I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say he drowned. I’m no forensics expert, but typically if you are swimming one minute and then dead the next, I know we can absolutely rule out vehicular homicide. Now, if you get pwned because you accidentally drowned yourself, does that mean you got dwned? And, I know it’s probably semantics, but I’m not sure how I like that sentence in bold above: “The post shows the couple in happier moments on their trip.” Oh, you mean, as opposed to capturing pictures of moments that weren’t so happy on their trip? Like the part where she ran on to the Lido deck to kiss this dude, check out the ring, maybe go below deck for a quick hj/bj, etc., but instead found him floating on the surface with blue skin? Or the part where she had to wait for an ambulance, or whatever they have in Tanzania (two guys come running out of the jungle with a gurney made out of tree branches and banana leaves) only to see the coroner zip the body bag up and over his head? Or, how about that great time-lapse of them unloading him from a hearse and into an ice chest at the morgue? I mean, Jesus F. Christ, of course the photos are from happier times on the trip.
Anyway, however you slice it, this guy just set the new record for “till death do us part.” More like “till breath do us part”, amirite? Do I feel bad for him? Of course. He was trying to propose in a very unique, albeit, staged way, and wanted it to go viral on social media. Well, mission accomplished, because the video went viral after his fiance shared it on Facebook. And, while society has succumbed to absorbing each and every mundane Facebook post (someone who is “Momming so hard” in my feed just posted how Monday is laundry day), from time to time, we, as a people, need a little brevity, and this time it comes in the form of someone else’s untimely yet completely avoidable demise. Now, do I disagree with her for sharing the video of his last moments alive, accompanied by a long ass post about how she said yes? You know, I want to disagree with her, but people grieve in different ways. Grievers gonna grieve. Still, some people may find it was “too soon” for her to post the video and her reply to him, which he will never see, because obviously there is no Facebook in heaven. Conversely, it would not surprise me one bit if there is Facebook in hell.
This appears to be the final chapter in this story, but, if she decides to plan a wedding ceremony in his honor, could you even imagine the invitations?
(Watch the video, and then see how the media twists the story to fit the whole “Antonio Brown is an asshole” narrative)
NY Post – Antonio Brown’s former doctor says the football star repeatedly farted in his face and laughed about it during a consultation where he showed up three hours late — and claims the receiver still owes him $11,000 in unpaid fees, according to a new report.
Dr. Victor Prisk said he was wary of signing the then-Pittsburgh Steeler because he had a reputation for being “flighty” and not paying his bills, but agreed to take him on as a client anyway, Sports Illustrated said Monday.
One of Brown’s acolytes took video of the noxious meeting in August 2018, obtained by TMZ, in which the footballer can be heard farting and laughing about it as Prisk tests his body fat. “It seemed just childish to me,” Prisk told Sports Illustrated. “I’m a doctor and this man is farting in my face.”
In the video, Brown jokes, “I had a lot of fiber, bro,” to one friend laughing off-camera. Prisk, a former bodybuilder and gymnast who runs Prisk Orthopaedics and Wellness in Monroeville, Pa., filed a suit against Brown earlier this month in Pennsylvania, claiming Brown — now a New England Patriot — owes him $11,500 in unpaid fees.
“He tells you he’s going to make it totally worth your while,” Prisk said, claiming the footballer wanted to go into business with him but “demurred” every time the doctor mentioned his agreed-upon $500 hourly rate. “He’s gonna invest in your business, invest in you. You’re part of my family. Call God and all that. But he doesn’t do that, and he doesn’t even pay the bill.”
First of all, if burping is a compliment to the chef, and we all agree that a subtle queef is a compliment to a lover, then farting should absolutely be a compliment to your doctor. So, a couple of things we should breakdown here:
- The doctor heard thru the grapevine that AB was a difficult patient, didn’t pay his bills, etc., and yet, took him on as a patient anyway. Now, ask yourself why a doctor would take on a patient who is flighty and doesn’t pay. Not only does this sound like a doctor who wants to rub elbows with famous celebrity clients, and rub ultrasound wands all over them, but it also sounds like someone who may have breached HIPAA compliance by discussing a patient’s personal attributes.
- Antonio Brown doesn’t fart “in his face”, which to be honest, was a complete disappointment when it didn’t happen. It felt like one of those old advertising scams where you’re promised one thing but get another, which in this case was the ol’ Fart n’ Switch. I’m not sure what I was expecting, I mean, I didn’t think he’d be spread-eagled with his legs in stirrups, but this isn’t farting in a face. I know what farting in your face truly is, because I have four older brothers, and you never forget the touch or scent of an anus that makes direct contact with your nose.
- Antonio IMMEDIATELY apologizes! “My bad.” He said my bad! What’s he supposed to do? You can’t put farts back in. Yeah, the second fart comes along (effortlessly, I might add) with more power and vibrato, but, we weren’t there, and no witness account can truly detail what, if any, smell there was. Anyone offering testimony to the contrary would be discounted as hearsay (or, hearsmell? sorry.)
- The doctor rubbed a wand around on his stomach to determine body fat (spoiler alert, dude, you’re ripped and an elite athlete, and to this layman it’s probably 4%.) In return, he wants $11,000? I’m not sure how many sessions AB signed up for with this guy, but he could have given him $500 and told him to take the balance of $10,500 and shove it up his ass.
Meanwhile, as these grifters continue coming out of the woods accusing Antonio of rapes and farts, the Patriots are playing the NY Jets this weekend. While the Jets have a star in L’veon Bell at running back, they basically have a paper boy playing quarterback. Pats 70, Jets 3.
Well, with all due respect, there are a lot of zippers out there flying at half mast today. With all of the truly evil, despicable people in the world, for some reason god decided today was the day to wrap his long ass arms around this angel and bring her home. Nice going, dick.
Anyway, Jessica started doing soft core porn way back in 2002. Why do they call it soft core? Well, due the fact they wouldn’t show any penetration, you’d only get about half way hard. Before that, she was an elementary school teacher, which means it was the only time in history that dads actually looked forward to PTA night. Just imagine those phone calls:
Wife: “Don’t forget, tonight is PTA.”
Husband: “I’m already in the parking lot.”
While starring in over 200 films, Jessica went on to win such acclaimed awards as Penthouse’s “Honey of the Year”, “Best American Starlet” (for porn), and made the AVN’s “Hall of Fame.” And even though porn awards may not seem valuable to you or I, just like winning an Oscar in Hollywood, these accolades typically guarantee future work (as well as larger paydays). Still, I’ve always found it kind of ironic when a porn star gets all choked up when receiving an award for Best Deepthroat. Jessica’s acting talents didn’t stop with adult films, as she also had roles in Showtime’s “Weeds”, and “Celebrity Rehab Sober House”, which I didn’t watch but have to assume Tom Sizemore was there.
In closing, just because she was a porn actress doesn’t mean she wasn’t a kind, loving human being. Our thoughts and prayers go out to her friends and family, and now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to continue my research on this story over on Pornhub.
Ric Ocasek, lead singer of The Cars, has passed away at the age of 70 (or 75, depending on which news source you believe.) He sang a lot of hits you hear on the radio to this very day, songs like “Good Times Roll”, “You’re All I’ve Got Tonight”, and “Just What I Needed.” There are others, but I’m not gonna sit here all night typing out the whole fuckin discography. While song lyrics and their meanings are often the subject of debate, I believe virtually all of The Cars songs are about banging (if not now, eventually) or at the very least probably fingerblasting. Not “My Best Friend’s Girl” though, which, with the chorus of “She’s my best friend’s girl/she’s my best friend’s girl (girlll)/ but she used to be mine” appears to be a song about being cuckolded. But, perhaps he wrote the song at a time in his life where he said, you know what, things just didn’t work out for her and I, it wasn’t a good match for whatever reason, and now she’s dating my friend who’s a great guy, and maybe he was in such a good place where he was like “I’m genuinely happy for both of them.” There’s another, possibly even more likely scenario, in which he dated her first, then she turned into one of those chicks who never leaves and keeps asking when you’re going to write a song about her. His friend swoops in to relieve him of his duties, and maybe the song is just about the utter relief one feels when they’ve dodged a bullet.
While Ric has left us to go play on that big stage in the sky where everyone knows the lead singer’s name but the rest of the band are still nobodies, we are fortunate enough to be alive here on the same earth where his wife still resides. Obviously, our thoughts and prayers are with their entire family, but I would be remiss if I did not point out the fact that Paulina is a total Wilf.
NY POST – Victoria Frabutt faces malicious castration charges for allegedly committing the heinous act at her Newport home, news station WITN reported.
Deputies were called around 4 a.m. early Tuesday after Victoria allegedly mutilated her 61-year-old hubby, James Frabutt, according to Carteret County Maj. Jason Wank. Wank said that deputies were able to locate the detached body part and placed it on ice. It wasn’t immediately known whether doctors were able to reattach the severed member.
The injured husband was brought to Vidant Medical Center, where his condition is unknown, according to WITN. The motive behind Frabutt’s alleged action was not immediately clear, authorities said. Victoria was also charged with kidnapping and booked on $100,000 bond. She’s set to appear in court Wednesday.
Well, where to begin? So many angles on this unplanned, and absolutely unauthorized dickectomy. There is no way Mrs. Frabutt has a license to practice dick medicine. And, unless this guy is guilty of something so vile, so despicable, that it would even make Jeffrey Epstein’s ghost blush, then I simply cannot stand for guys having their dicks hacked off. We just cannot have it in our society. Did he cheat on her? Maybe, I mean, scroll back up and have another look for yourself. But to hack off a dick? Come on, that’s a bit extreme and seriously not fair. You want to spike his Gatorade with antifreeze until his pancreas falls out his bhole, fine. While I’m staunchly opposed to poisoning your spouse, I would have preferred it in this case because, like god (?), I feel strongly about men having the right to take their dicks with them from the starting line all the way to the finish line.
Now, as if all this hackin’ and sawin’ and gnawin’ wasn’t bad enough, you have these poor cops walking around the lawn looking for Mr. Frabutt’s missing dick. We’ll never know if they actually put out an APB (aka All Penis Bulletin) on this thing, but can you even imagine the call coming in over the radio?
Dispatcher: “We have a domestic dispute over in Carteret County.”
Cop: “On my way, roger, breaker breaker, over and out” (or whatever they say)
Dispatcher: “All units, be advised, you are gonna need flashlights, and hopefully one of y’all have an old Taco Bell cup with ice in it and some salad tongs.”
Still, I would have liked to have seen the look on the doctor’s face when they brought this thing to the hospital. He was probably like “What’s this, a Dr. Pepper, for me? OH, IT’S THE DICK? You guys brought me the dick in a Taco Bell cup? omg, that’s cute, and I appreciate your level of confidence, but who am I, Dr. Frankenstein over here? You may as well toss that thing in the rubbish bin.”
Anyway, I cannot be the only person who was reading this story and said, outloud, “you have got to be kidding” when it was mentioned the spokesman’s name is Major Wank.
By now, you may have heard this young man “allegedly” murdered some family members (the mother in law, wife, and child of minor league pitcher Blake Bivens), but what you haven’t heard or seen is this video. Never in all my years have I seen someone just casually jogging with their dick flapping around in the wind, especially with triple homicide charges looming. Now, I have seen a guy doing what I previously thought was the impossible, which is sprinting with a raging boner, but that’s a blog for another time. Anyway, if you’re looking down the barrel of 30 to life (or especially the death penalty), you might want to think about getting your giddy up on. I don’t know, maybe show a little hustle? This guy looks like he thinks he’s involved in the world’s slowest game of TV tag.
I’ve watched this video at least ten times, and no, not because I hope the pixelation will eventually go away. Speaking of, someone’s entire job out there is editing videos and putting blurry boxes in front of dicks and pussies.
Wife: “How was work today?”
Husband (whose only job is to blur out privates): “HOW DO YOU THINK IT WAS, DIANE?”
Anyway, why bother, we all know what they look like by now. They’re both ugly. Dicks are gross, and everybody knows it. And, I’m sorry, but vaginas are no picnic, either. As a young man, all I ever heard was “just wait until you see one”, and then one day I did see one, but I didn’t know what to do so I went back to the arcade to play Donkey Kong. And yet, one of life’s great joys is how when you eventually do put it in there (thank you, Tinder) it feels like a unicorn’s horn is going into a fun, squishy rainbow.
Now, I commend this officer for playfully jogging around in circles and spraying mace, rather than doing what I would have done, which is to shoot him eleven times with my rifle. I’m sorry, we are all innocent until proven guilty, but this case appears to be a slam dunk, and for christ’s sake, this naked guy is trying to touch me with his dick? Aww, hell no. I didn’t go thru Police Academy and spend 19 years on the force so a lunatic could dry hump me on the lawn while some asshole does nothing except film it. In retrospect, perhaps my unique, law enforcement theory of ‘shoot first ask questions later’ is why I’m not a cop.
Bonus LOL at the 0:32 mark when the K9 unit is ready to fuck this guy up, but then sees his dick bouncing around and decides to take a powder.