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Thursday
December 08, 2016

FIRST TIME AT PIG?
• What is PIG?
• Who is PIG?
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• PIG PLEDGE •
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To The Way Cool Dudes
That Founded
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That Gets In Your Face
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Or Race
• CUPCAKE NATION •
Too many Cupcakes, Basement Boys and preciuos Snowflakes invading your Safe Space? You're in the very most, PIGish Safe Space.

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• AMERICAN INFIDELS •
Wake Up, Infidels! The F.S.O.P. Declares The Infidel Insurrection Has Begun.
>> Caliphate This >>
ODE TO
BLACK LIES MATTER

There once was a thug named Brown,
Who bum-rushed a cop with a frown,
Six bullets later,
He met his creator,
Then his homies burnt down the town

GRAMMY TIME!
Why Have Granola When You Can Have Some Grammy Tune In.
>>Grammy Time >>
ART TIME!
EnjoyThe Art Of Danish Artist, Cirkeline Nilsson.
>> Cirkline >>
DON'T TREAD ON ME
Tired Of Our Sacred U.S. Constitution Being Used As A Snot Rag Like We Are? Click The Link, Read On And Be Right On.
>>> Right On >>>
'SKIN THIS!
Washington Redskins Owner Dan Snyder Has Proven Himself A True Warrior By Shrugging Off Korrectnik Thuggery. PIG Salutes ThIs Hero Of Inkorrectness For Standing Firm In His Decision To Keep The Name Redskins. Dan, You Are The Man!
CARD 'EM, DANO

Don't Give 'Em The Finger,
Because It Won't Linger.
Don't Bother To Sass 'Em
Just IDGAS 'Em
*IDGAS Is Our New " I Don't Give A Shit" Card.
When Confronted By A 'Tard,
Just Toss 'Em A Card
Click Below To Learn How You Can Be The First Kid On Your Block To Start Carding.
>>> Go Here >>>

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HAMBO FOR PREZ !
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PIG'S GALLERY
 • PIG POLL •
MOONBATS
Which Moonbat Deserves A One-Way Trip To Their Very Own, Self-Imposed Safe Space?

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Michael Moore*
Maxine Waters
Any Kardashian
Occutards
Cry Bullies
Q. Tarantino
#BLM
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 *Due To Intergalactic Freight Costs, Tonage, Limited Food &
Oxygen Supply, Michael Moore
Counts As Two Votes.

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AND THE WINNER IS...
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>>> Read More >>>

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TOP STORY
HAMBO CLAUS
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Hambo Puts a PIGish spin on Christmas.
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Tis the season, PIGsters and once again, our sanity will be assaulted by the usual suspects who willfully ignore certain doses of objective reality that don't match up with their seasonal delusions. It might help if you think of this rant as the holiday version of "A is still A".

For that legendary pain in the butt, the great America sports-a-holic, this is the time of year when friendships are given the acid test. It's the time of year when brewskie-fortified sports-a-holics get into bellowing, chest-pounding shouting matching over the burning college sports question of the moment: who's number one? There are, as usual, several official answers to this vital sports-a-holic question. Despite the various polls, the only official opinion that matters when it comes to college football is a notoriously dysfunctional, fatally-flawed gem called the College Football Playoff series. No matter which teams end up in the so-called championship game, there are endless arguments over the way this team or that one got shafted by this bull crap. A is still A and the playoff system is still an egregiously flawed way to determine the National College Football Champion. Close, but no cigar.

I can make myself ignore the annual college football championship bovine excrement, but I have a much harder time when it comes to other elements of the holiday hoopla. The one that, invariably, makes me shudder is the horse crap that speaks in glowing, mythological terms about "one of mom's home cooked meals". It's accurate to state that my mother did unbelievable things in the kitchen, on a regular basis. When I say "unbelievable" I'm not engaging in Hambo's patented hyperbole. My mother was a highly intelligent woman who was gifted in many areas. HOWEVER, cooking wasn't one of them. She was, to put in bluntly, the most infamous culinary terrorist since Jeffrey Dahmer. A is still A, so don't hold your breath waiting for this far from fussy eater to get gooey over "one of mom's home cooked meals". Been there, done that, and I managed to survive, some-damn-how.

How many goddamn versions of 'A Christmas Carol' Do we need? Vanessa Williams did one. Susan Lucci did one. George C. Scott did one. Captain Picard (Patrick Stewart) did one. Albert Finney did one. Kelsey Grammar did one. Bill Murray did one (this one has moments). Even Fonzi did one! There were, at last count, well over 200 of the damn things and virtually all them will be shown during the looming holiday boob tube blitz. Isn't it about time for someone to declare that the Alistair Sim version, is THE superior version of this classic and ditch all these pretenders? Do we really need to have someone perpetrate a Porn Star Kardashian-West plays Scrooge epic before we finally put this insane holiday tradition out of its misery? A is still A and Alistair Sim is still the one and only Scrooge.

Christmas songs are cool, especially if they're delivered eagerly, loudly, and cheerfully off-key by some stoned on Santa Claus tykes. HOWEVER, by the time I've heard "Deck the Halls" for the 800th time, in one day, I'm ready to put a whole new spin on "decking". You don't even want to know what I'm planning to do with that friggin holly. A is still A and Christmas songs are fine, in moderation. But if you keep bellowing them at me, eventually, I'm going to snap. You so don't want to go there.

Gift giving is another area where too much of a good thing ruins an otherwise spiffy holiday season. I like exchanging gifts with my lovely bride and that's a fact. I also like finding gifts for selected members of the human population. HOWEVER, we all need to get real about this "butt ugly tie from Aunt Thelma" crap. Gift giving is cool, most of the time, but some gifts test the limits of my meager acting ability. If you threatened me with Uncle Clyde's infamous fruit cake, I would admit that, for many years now, I have engaged in gift recycling. It resolves numerous problematic gift buying dilemmas when the lucky recipient is someone I barely know. A is still A and gift giving is cool, until it becomes mandatory.

It's time to get real about Christmas. It's time to admit that, despite its wondrous elements, Christmas is fully of petty annoyances. You know it's true, and so do I, but I have an idea or two that might put the fun back in your Christmas.

Admittedly, I can't help you with such relentless pains as the 10,000th remake of "A Christmas Carol". There's nothing I can do about the sanity shredding holiday music that gets on your last raw nerve long before the Jolly Old Elf slides down your chimney. When it comes to that stuff, you're on your own, Sparky. You already know what I think of things like that.

Whipped with guilt over my limitations when it comes to the Christmas Season's many petty annoyances, I am locked and loaded with ideas about one especially annoying element of this "joyous" season. I refer, of course, to the most pernicious element of Christmas, buying gifts for people who, routinely, get on your last, raw, nerve. If you're like your devoted PIG perpetrators, you approach this pain in the butt with a mixture of grim resolve, laced with a generous dose of dread. It's time for you to dump that evil frame of mind like a bad habit and let me show you how to have some fun with your gift buying for a change. For the purposes of this exercise, you might as well call me Hambo Claus.

Christmas shopping is an exercise in psychological warfare, which, if you perform this annual ritual properly, can afford you countless hours of fun on Christmas morning. It might help if you think of it as playfully PIGish form of payback. It's a small way to get a badly needed outlet for all the stress you endured at the local mall, where you were forced to rub elbows - and assorted other body parts - with every form of mutant, retard, moonbat and wingnut in the known universe. Hambo Claus-style gift giving can make you shake off that damn Christmas elevator music and put some "Ho, ho, ho" back in your Ho, Ho Holiday.

I know what you're thinking and that's no way to speak about Hambo Claus when there's a reasonable chance that he can hear what you're saying. Actually, in this instance, Hambo Claus gift giving has its bright side. Imagine the thrill your knee-jerk liberal brother, uncle, friend or neighbor will feel when he opens his gift and sees a PIG sweatshirt bearing the phrase "Insensitive Liberal Bashing? You Bet, and Plenty of It" He'll want to kick your butt, but under the venerable Christmas rules of engagement, he's required to smile, act delighted and thank you, because the whole family is watching. Your response is much more sincere: that annoying smirk you've been practicing for this glorious occasion.

Do you have a friend, acquaintance or family member who is driving you crazy with their foaming at the mouth Elephant Clan carping? Do you wish that once, just once, he, she, heshe or it would talk about something, anything, else? Why not make a modest donation to Demoncrat Party in the annoying pest's name? Better yet, make a donation to Bubba Clinton's boondoggle, uh, Presidential Library. That will put them on the mailing list for every liberal group from sea to shining sea. It's the gift that keeps on giving and you'll have a front row seat to all the fun when the lucky recipient blows a gasket.

Is someone on your gift recipient list a diehard, card-carrying union loving dweeb whose tirades against those evil bastards at Wal-Mart get on your last raw nerve? Why not test their mettle with a gift card from Wal-Mart? Be damn sure to keep your camera handy, because the look on their face will make great wallpaper for your PC.

Do you have a friend, acquaintance or relative that is being a pain-in-the-butt about their non-negotiable eating regime? Is Aunt Blabby running off at the mouth about her "blankety-blank" vegan diet? Are you itching to hit him, her, himher or it where they live? Why not buy them a gift card for the FSOP's favorite burger joint, Dr. Jon's Heart Attack Grill?. I strongly suggest that you give them a gift card for the king of all burgers, the 8,000 calorie behemoth, the Quadruple Bypass Burger. Take a brief moment to imagine how much fun you'll have describing that gargantuan gastronomic gem in lavish detail. That's Hambo Claus gift giving at its best.

Do you have a brother, uncle, aunt, cousin or friend who never saw a gun they didn't want to ban? I have the perfect gift for you. Sign them up for a National Rifle Association membership. It's a gift that keeps on giving, because it will put them on all those 'save the Second Amendment', gun lover, mailing lists. He, she, heshe, or it, will be getting that stuff in their mailbox, month in, month out, for YEARS.

Is one of your gift recipients a Stoned-On-Old-Ka-Boom, salvation monkey who can't resist trying to share the "joyous news' despite the fact that you've found your own path to a Celestial reward in the hereafter? Do they get on your last raw nerve with their relentless religious fervor? I feel your pain and have a suggestion. You need to give them a free pass to Hell. It's not THAT Hell, Sparky, I'm suggesting that you buy them a gift certificate from those paragons of Kiwi incorrectness, the devilishly clever dudes who run Hell Pizza. In addition to the joy you'll get from the recipient's shocked expression, you'll get that extra special bonus of knowing that they'll never get to use it since the nearest Hell Pizza outlet is in J.O.E.

If you're not snarky enough for those classically Hambo notions, why not go for some plain vanilla mind bending with some deliberately hideous gifts that can't be returned? Or, why not use your imagination and give them an utterly useless set of items that mirror certain memorable (ones you remember and they might want to forget) episodes in the recipient's life. Hambo calls this a "This is Your Life" gift pack. The idea is quite simple and very inexpensive, since none of the items need to cost more than $2 or $3. The best part of this is the hours of big time fun you'll have finding the right item for each memorable moment. Once you have all those memorable episodes represented, you pack up the whole mess then wait for Christmas Day when you get to explain each item's significance in front of the whole family.

The bottom line on my PIGish gift suggestions is this: gift giving can be perversely fun, for you, if you approach it with imagination and a sense of humor. I feel compelled to warn those who want to follow Hambo Claus into the dark side of gift giving that it requires some acting ability and a poker-faced "sincerity". Some of you might think that my suggestions reek of "revenge", but I categorically refute that allegation. I prefer to think of Christmas gift giving as a once a year opportunity to bestow some enlightenment on certain richly deserving family members, friends, acquaintances and co-workers. On your mark, get set, go forth and spread some PIGish "joy".

I know what you're wondering, and the answer is a provisional 'yup'. Yes, Sparky, the FSOP had its own close encounter with prankish gifts.

It happened, when some never identified PIG staffer - Agent Oink was suspiciously furtive and smirky - left a gift-wrapped Hooters hottie under the PIG bunker's Christmas tree. We were THRILLED, until Spike removed the gag and Hooters hottie gave us an earful of differently-joyful verbal abuse.

We don't get in a lather over anyone's method of enjoying this festive season, so why, we ask, are so many people trying to rain on our parade? Our enchanting Hooters wench's lawyer bitch really hurt our feelings at the arraignment when she kept using the term "hogtied". We're still getting her nasty grams - f-ing restraining order spawning shyster bitch. We're thisclose to having our legal eagle, Sleezy Sid, sue that lawyer bitch.

I will smack the shyster bitch if she sneers "hogtied" one more time. But I digress.

As far as I can tell, Christmas has evolved into a one-size-fits all holiday that has something for just about everybody. It's a time of year that means different things to different people. Its meaning, for you, depends on your viewpoint.

For Cross Cultists, like my friend, PIGster J, it's a time of year when they celebrate the birth of a savior.

For this pagan scribbler, it's a time of year when a 'Jolly Old Elf' sets a new single night record for house breaking, while ingesting enough milk and cookies, in one action packed night, to last the population of the Big Apple for a lifetime. He atones for his 'crimes', by leaving toys for little girls and boys.

For Killjoy Atheists, plus assorted other hypersensitive secular pests, it's a time of year when they keep a shyster on standby, ready for immediate deployment.

For capitalists, it's a time of year when they make the year profitable by selling manger scenes to Cross Cultists, lights and other Santa related decor to Jolly Old Elf fans, body armor to killjoy atheists, plus wide screen TVs and iPads to low information voters.

Ideally, everybody should step back, and take several deep breaths. Ideally, we should each honor this multifaceted holiday in the manner that thrills us spitless and give other sovereign individuals the space to do the same. If my neighbor puts out his manger scene and honors the birth of a savior, that's his right. If another neighbor is working 16 hour days at his outpost of capitalism, raking in those profits, that's cool too. I won't paint a bull's-eye on their manger or cash register, but I would appreciate the same consideration about my veneration of a Jolly Old Elf.

If you put a gun to my head and demanded my opinion - as if anyone ever had to coerce an opinion from Hambo - I would opine that a something for everybody approach to Christmas is utterly, classically, American. Nobody is coerced into accepting one manner of celebrating this holiday. Instead, each individual is allowed deal with it as he, she, heshe or it sees fit. For PIGster J., Jesus is the reason for the season. For Hambo, Christmas is a time of year when he, like many others, brighten up their neighborhood with twinkling multicolored strings of lights, a tree decorated with tinsel, lights and ornaments, plus depictions of Santa's jovial self. For capitalists, it's a time to reduce that inventory and fill their cash register by selling PIGster J. the decorative elements that flesh out his holiday, and selling more Santa stuff to Mrs. Hambo. These highly individual approaches to the same event are the essence of this great nation.

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• PIG's Revamped News Page
Definitely NOT Your Mommy's News Page!
Get a PIG's-eye view of events.
Updated Any Time The News Is PIGish >>>

 • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

• PIG's OINK OBSERVER
What the hell is it? If Enquiring minds want to know, the answer is a click away.
>>> Oink Me, Big Boy >>>
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• HAMBO'S HAMMER
Have you been Hambo'd today? Every day, PIG's insane editor posts a sample of what's on his alleged mind.
Read More >>>

 • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
 
GOSPEL: PORCUS PITCHFORK

• PORCUS PITCHFORK
'Fork Off! From time to time, whenever he's mad as hell and can't take it anymore, Porcus just says, 'Fork You!
Read More >>>
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PIG'S POSTING SCHEDULE
PIG'S PIC OF THE DAY

Recount

 

• EYE OPENERS:
Sometimes, A Picture
Says It All.
If You Have A Unique
Photo, Cartoon or
Graphic, Sen
d It To: pig@pigazette.com

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Image Source
MLB
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WORD OF THE DAY

SCIENTOLOGY, n.

A notoriously paranoid pseudo-religion that is based on the insane ravings of mediocre science fiction writer, its beliefs are so irrational that they seem like outtakes from a Monty Python skit.

Just when I discovered the meaning of life, they changed it.
– George Carlin

Biden for Prez in 2020? Why didn't he run this time? What does the CCF [Clinton Crime Family] have on him?

Dear Santa,

I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled my children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground. I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in the next 18 years.

Here are my Christmas wishes:

I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze; but are strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.

I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.

If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.

On the practical side, I could use a talking doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with two kids who don't fight and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.

I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.

If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.

If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and come in and dry off so you don't catch cold.

Help yourself to cookies on the table but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.

Yours Always, MOM!

P.S. One more thing – you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.

~ ~ ~

I Think Santa Claus is a Woman.

I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe he's a she.

Think about it. Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy, nurturing, social deal, and I have a tough time believing a guy could possibly pull it all off!

For starters, the vast majority of men don't even think about selecting gifts until Christmas Eve. Once at the mall, they always seem surprised to find only Ronco products, socket wrench sets, and mood rings left on the shelves. On this count alone, I'm convinced Santa is a woman.

Surely, if he were a man, everyone in the universe would wake up Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree, still in the bag.

Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all, there would be no reindeer because they would all be dead, gutted and strapped on to the rear bumper of the sleigh amid wide-eyed, desperate claims that buck season had been extended. Blitzen's rack would already be on the way to the taxidermist.

Even if the male Santa did have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems because he would inevitably get lost up there in the snow and clouds and then refuse to stop and ask for directions.

Other reasons why Santa can't possibly be a man:

Men can't pack a bag.

Men would rather be dead than caught wearing red velvet. Men would feel their masculinity is threatened – having to be seen with all those elves.

Men don't answer their mail.

Men would refuse to allow their physique to be described, even in jest, as anything remotely resembling a "bowlfull of jelly." Men aren't interested in stockings unless somebody's wearing them. Having to do the Ho Ho Ho thing would seriously inhibit their ability to pick up women.

Finally, being responsible for Christmas would require a commitment.

I can buy the fact that other mythical holiday characters are men:

Father Time shows up once a year unshaven and looking ominous. Definitely a guy.

Cupid flies around carrying weapons.

Uncle Sam is a politician who likes to point fingers.

Any one of these individuals could pass the testosterone screening test. But not St. Nick. Not a chance.

@

Only In December Do We Get This Sort Of Stuff

According to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, while both male and female reindeer grow antlers in the summer each year, male reindeer drop their antlers at the beginning of winter, usually late November to mid-December. Female reindeer retain their antlers till after they give birth in the spring.

Therefore, according to every historical rendition depicting Santa's reindeer, every single one of them, from Rudolph to Blitzen, had to be a girl.

We should've known. Only women would be able to drag a fat man in a red velvet suit all around the world in one night and not get lost.

~ ~ ~

Captain Hawley, the interstellar trader, was mad. Madder than her humanoid crew had ever seen her. In all her years of trading, nothing like this had ever happened before. First, the hypercold storage on deck nine had failed allowing the swine destined for the miners on Deneeb III to emerge from cold sleep. The little porkers were eating her out of house and starship.

Second, she had promised her young nephew a Ferdinand Feghoot doll from Earth. Unfortunately, Hawley had arrived on Earth during Winter Solstice, the peak of the shopping season. She had beamed down to mall after mall with no success. The clerks had ignored her or treated her with utter disdain.

Starship captains do not make promises lightly, and Hawley was not happy at the prospect of disappointing her favorite nephew. What could Hawley do to punish these rotten mall owners for employing nasty clerks? And how could she dispose of her swine?

"I have it," Hawley exclaimed. Turning to her Transporter Engineer, she asked, "Can the teleport mechanism be modified to handle one million female pigs?"

Captain Hawley motioned the perplexed engineer closer and whispered into his center ear. Two of his eyes widened with horror at what she was suggesting while the other two narrowed in gleeful anticipation of a cosmic joke.

As the Transporter Engineer strode purposefully from the bridge, he could be heard singing, "Wreck the Malls with Sows of Hawley..."

 

 

1952 An insane bastard who made us laugh like mental patients, unconventional comedian, Sam "Hambo Fave" Kinison, born, makes world a much funnier place.

1961 The woman who makes the liberals cringe whenever she opens her mouth, Ann "INCOMING" Coulter, born, gives Doctor a verbal enema when he spanks her.

1993 Bubba zips up his pants long enough to sign NAFTA; Ross Perot's giant sucking a no show when someone plugs the vacuum in backwards, blowing hordes of slave wage workers north.

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IT TAKES BALLS TO PLAY IN THE PIGDOME
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INVASION OF THE BORDER JUMPERS
For too long, America's borders have been a portal for the unwelcome, uninvited, undocumented, over diseased and crime ridden riff-raff and parasitic hordes. They swarm across our porous borders, from all over the world to pee, puke, spit and poop in our melting pot...and worse. Read More >>>


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PIG CALENDAR

December Is
Cliffhanger Month

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If you spot a Marxist Moonbat lurking near a precipice give it a push in the right direction.
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VETERANS
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Attention all Veteran's and Active Duty Military: PIG is cordially inviting all Vets, active or retired, at home or in Irak, to send us notes or messages for posting in PIG.

>>> Read More >>>
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• ZERO TOLERANCE •
• • • • • • • • • • • Amerika's Schools Are Being Transformed Into Orwellian Wastelands With All-Out Lockstep-Style Assaults On Free Speech, Expression, And Even Innocent Fun By Ivory Tower Eggheads aka Zero Tolerance Zombies
>>> Read More >>>
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• O-CRAP! •

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Welcome to PIG's Outhouse, a new section that contains all the Obama crap that's been stinking up and overflowing our in-boxes. We had to create a new page because you have to actually earn a Steaming Load, and the folks running our Dumpster page don't want to lower their standards.
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• DUMPSTER DIVING •

NEED TO UP THE VOLTAGE ON YOUR SHOCK TREATMENTS?
THERE'S A B
ETTTER WAY.
GO DUMPSTER DIVING AND ENJOY PIG'S PRIVATE STASH.
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• SIGNS 'O THE TIMES •
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PISSED! POLITICALLY INCORRECT SIGNS SLOGANS & ENLIGHTENED DRAWINGS. TO PERUSE OUR COLLECTION OF OUT OF THE ORDINARY POSTERS, PICS & GRAPHICS. A REAL PISSER OF A PAGE
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• PIG'S PLAYLIST •
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PIG DECIDED TO TURN UP THE VOLUME MORE THAN A FEW NOTCHES BY UNLEASHING OUR PLAYLIST OF WHAT WE CONSIDER NOT JUST GREAT, BUT WAY INKORRECT TUNES.WE'RE SURE YOU WON'T EXPECT "RING AROUND THE ROSIES" OR "WE ARE THE WORLD'" MAKING OUR LIST. TO TUNE IN,
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• TOXIC TOONS •
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SICK OF DRABBLE AND DILBERT IN YOUR FISHWRAPS FUNNY PAGES? WELCOME TO TOXIC TOONS, HERE WE EXPLORE THE TOXIC SIDE OF TOONING AROUND
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• PIG PIN-UPS •
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IF YOU LIKE EYE CANDY, KEEP YOUR SHIRT SLEEVE NEARBY TO WIPE THE DROOL OFF YOUR CHINS. ENJOY.
>>> Read More >>>
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• TOE-TAGGED •
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NOTABLE PASSINGS
TO MOST, WE SAY FAREWELL. TO A FEW OTHERS, WE WONDER WTF TOOK YOU SO LONG.
BON VOYAGE.

>>> Read More >>>

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• FRIENDS OF PIG •
ALICE'S RESTAURANT
PIGsters! You don't have to wait until Schools Out to head into Alice Cooper'stown in Phoenix, AZ, an eatery founded by Alice Cooper and Randy Johnson. A place where Jocks and Rock meet. Try their specialty, The Big Unit.
>>> Menu >>>
If you're ever in Las Vegas, and experiencing hunger pangs, and just have to have something hot, fresh and juicy, check yourself into:
The Heart Attack Grill
Tell 'Em PIG Sent You
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WWW.ARIZONABITEME.COM
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TEXAS FRED
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NATIONAL REVIEW
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FARK
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HOPE 'N' CHANGE CARTOONS
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LOCK AND LOAD
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WOODPILE REPORT
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STRANGE POLITICS
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HONOR 1778
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SAY NO TO P.C.B.S
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MISS RED MUSES
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KNOTTING KORRECTNIK KNICKERS SINCE 2004.
HOLY REALITY CHECKS, BATMAN!



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