Item #2: The wholesale suspending (and sometimes arrest) of public school students - inmates, as Hambo calls them - are at an all-time high. These suspensions are not for violent crime or deviant behavior, which would warrant a suspension, but for some really petty, inane, trivial, playful acts like playing Army, Cowboys and Indians or Cops And Robbers in the class, mistakenly bringing a Boy Scout knife to class, wearing a Pro-NRA T-shirt or American flag T-shirts worn by white kids on Cinco de Mayo, boys innocently kissing, even hugging female classmates, drawing pictures of guns, tanks, bombs and missiles, even making a finger gun gesture.
Hell, one kid was hauled in for placing plastic soldiers on top of cupcakes.
Reasons for the suspensions and disciplinary actions are justified by Brain-Dead Zero Tolerance Zombies reciting from the PC rulebook as "Threatening," "Intimidating," "Culturally Insensitive," the list of lame ass excuses goes on and on and seem to be very subjective
All of these instances, and probably many, many more are a one-way ticket for those Zero Tolerance Public Skool Enforcers (highly paid, unionized babysitters) to the world of 'Forking For F**k heads.
Item #3: Whenever I turn on the news, I always hear of the latest gloom and doom unemployment problem. There seems to be a contradiction in reporting certain facts, figures and numbers.
Case in point? Obama has authorized the hiring of 16,000 IRS agents, more than likely to act as Death Care goons to put the squeeze on those that for whatever reason can't or won't participate in the Un-'Forking-Constitutional force feeding of an inferior product, Obama Care, for example.
Good news! If you're looking for work, have no friends, even no experience, failed at everything else you ever tried, at least know what numbers look like and would love a ground floor opportunity at confiscating other peoples' money and making their lives miserable, report at once to the Department of the Treasury, Asshole Division.
So now you, too, can put down the video games, crawl out of Mommy's basement, set up shop and take up space on the federal dime all while shaking down your neighbors.
While applying for your new career, be sure to tell 'em Forcus Maximus sent you! That's Forcus, with a capital F.
Item #4: Once in a while, while filtering out my email, I let curiosity get the better of me and I actually check on what latest piece of crap these Spammers are hawking.
After scrolling down, I usually notice a microscopic disclaimer that offers a way to unsubscribe to these particular unwanted messages. I either click a link, which I think is suspect in the first place, or I can sit down, write, and send out a snail mail requesting to be removed.
I know. Just by clicking on, but not opening the main message, I probably 'Forked myself into getting on even more Spammers' annoying lists. That's not the issue or reason for the 'Forking.
The 'Forking goes to those low life Spammers that think I'm going to entertain them by replying to them and request getting off of their 'lists.'
I'm not sure, but I think that by even acknowledging them in the form of an unsubscribe request, somehow I get a sense that those low lifers are going to sell my name and address to other low life Spammers.
As far as I'm concerned, Spammers can go 'Fork themselves AFTER taking the latest fly-by-night manhood enhancing product they attempt to sell to online suckers.
THE NANNY STATE WANTS YOU | APRIL 08, 2013
While recently 'Forking around with my computer and cleaning out some folders and trashing a lot of obsolete files, I blew the cobwebs off of the following article and thought it was high time for a refresher course in Political Correctness.
If you choose to read this, and understand it, great. But this posting is not a standard issue 'Forking, but a high, hard F**k You towards those that have overdosed on the Kool-Aid, and have fostered, sponsored, perpetuated, advocated and pontificated Political Correctness and the ever growing Nanny-State against individual thought and speech.
Political Correctness - the idea of substituting certain words or thoughts with others deemed to be "acceptable" - is destroying America.
The phrase has been in existence for many years. A Wikipedia entry notes an early usage of the term in the 18th Century, and proponents of liberal thought used it in the 1970's. The idea has been around at least since World War I, and one website attributes the phrase to Leon Trotsky.
In an address to the AIA in 2000, Bill Lind said it originated in a comic strip. We laugh at the idea of political correctness, but as Lind points out, it is deadly serious. He calls it the: ...Great disease of our century, the disease that has left tens of millions of people dead in Europe, in Russia, in China, indeed around the world. It is the disease of ideology. PC is not funny. PC is deadly serious.
We have seen political correctness, or PC, rear its ugly head since the shootings in Tucson.
For example, one Member of Congress announced he would introduce legislation banning the use of crosshair graphics in political ads, and a CNN talk show host after a guest used the term.
"We're trying to get away from using that kind of language," John King explained.
Others have actually suggested banning certain words from our vocabulary, as though that in and of itself would prevent other acts of violence.
Destruction of language was a central theme in George Orwell's signature novel 1984, a book that should be required reading for anyone concerned about the state of modern American politics, for in it one finds many parallels between the fictitious tyrannical state of Oceania and modern liberalism.
Remove words, and one removes thought; Remove thought, and one removes freedom. In a conversation with the main character, Winston Smith, one of the "creators" of Newspeak explained:
The whole climate of thought will be different. In fact there will be no thought, as we understand it now. Orthodoxy means not thinking -- not needing to think.
Orthodoxy is unconsciousness
If this sounds familiar, it should.
Consider the knee-jerk reaction many liberals have any time Sarah Palin speaks. Rather than apply critical thought to anything she says, they react like Pavlov's dogs, snarling and sniping because that is what they have been conditioned to do by their puppet masters.
Political correctness has extended its tentacles in other areas as well.
Consider the case of Cody Alicea, the California school boy ordered to remove an American flag from his bike because Latino students might be offended, or the more recent case of the Oklahoma school boy who was suspended from the first grade because he made a "gun gesture"with his hand.
Political correctness plays a huge role in any situation involving prayer, like the recent case in Hawaii where the state Senate bowed to the ACLU and became the first state to ban prayer in that legislative body.
As Lind points out, political correctness has as its primary goal, the advancement of a cultural Marxism. Lind explains:
...For the classical Marxist, it’s Marxist economics. For the cultural Marxist, it’s deconstruction. Deconstruction essentially takes any text, removes all meaning from it and re-inserts any meaning desired. So we find, for example, that all of Shakespeare is about the suppression of women, or the Bible is really about race and gender. All of these texts simply become grist for the mill, which proves that “all history is about which groups have power over which other groups.” So the parallels are very evident between the classical Marxism that we’re familiar with in the old Soviet Union and the cultural Marxism that we see today as Political Correctness.
The result of political correctness can be seen throughout modern American politics. Masses of people, hypnotized by the bumper-sticker campaign of a charismatic individual, fully supported by a lapdog media, elected one of the most liberal Presidents in American history.
Many cast their vote without thinking of the consequences, and the nation is now spiralling headfirst into socialism.
Anyone who disagrees with President Obama is instantly labeled a racist or a bigot, no matter how sound their argument.
Political correctness also plays a huge role in the advancement of many liberal causes like the environment or gay rights.
A casual observer can see how language is often changed to pursue the statist's goals, and those who disagree are instantly labeled "bigots", "deniers", or "haters".
What was once "global warming" is now "climate change"; "gay marriage" is now "marriage equality", and so on.
Lind concludes his essay by writing:
...America today is in the throes of the greatest and direst transformation in its history. We are becoming an ideological state, a country with an official state ideology enforced by the power of the state. In “hate crimes” we now have people serving jail sentences for political thoughts. And the Congress is now moving to expand that category ever further. Affirmative action is part of it. The terror against anyone who dissents from Political Correctness on campus is part of it. It’s exactly what we have seen happen in Russia, in Germany, in Italy, in China, and now it’s coming here. And we don’t recognize it because we call it Political Correctness and laugh it off. My message today is that it’s not funny, it’s here, it’s growing and it will eventually destroy, as it seeks to destroy, everything that we have ever defined as our freedom and our culture.
Political correctness is a disease that threatens the very fabric of our Republic.
Free speech and freedom of thought is the cure.
NEW YORK CITY'S NANNY ON STEROIDS | MARCH 12, 2013
What the 'Fork?!? There seems to be a micro-managing menace of a mayor of New York City in the form of a behavioral Dick Tater-Tot that was born with the name Michael Bloomberg, aka, Michael Doomberg.
With his dictates as to what HE chooses what, where and how much people can eat, drink or smoke, Queen Bloomberg seems to be on a quest to limit the dietary and personal choices of what New Yorkers can consume.Guess what? New Yorkers are swallowing this load of crap is like a little herd of lambs.
With nothing better to do, in spite of all of New York City's problems Big Nanny Bloomberg has a laundry list of what HE/SHE considers taboo, and may have banned, if not already.
No smoking in public.
No Trans-Fats in eateries.
Salt intake regulation.
Breast feeding initiative.
Styrofoam coffee cups.
No soft drinks over 16 oz.*
*As of this writing, a NYC judge has put a halt on the Big Gulp Ban.
What Bloomberg really needs is one big, fat 'Forking bare Knucle PIG sandwhich, courtesy of New Yorkers.
THIS GUY SUCKS | FEBRUARY 23, 2013
By executive order from the Keeper of The 'Fork, the pussy whipped nad-less punk, pictured below, deserves more than a 'Forking. He deserves a good old fashioned tar and feathering.
The poster explains it all. However, if you see this ex-guy, current gay, bitch slap him or slap fight him/it as he deserves.
He's on a path to ruin it for all guys.
'Fork him and the women that fall for this load.
He 'Forking sucks and he's on my shit list.
PLAN C | FEBRUARY 13, 2013
We've all encountered religious zombies that in their quest to win your soul and wallet, will pose the questions regarding Heaven and Hell.
On their quest, their standard issue question is "Where do you want to spend eternity, Heaven or Hell?"
Well for most, ideally, Plan A is Heaven. Plan B would be Hell for those most deserving.
But no one ever considered a Plan C regarding the afterlife.
The Keeper Of The 'Fork will explain Plan C.
What if, upon perishing, someone from six feet under takes a stand to whoever gives you or me those first two options gets creative and says, "Hey, I need a century or two to decide. I'll have my people get back to your people about my eternal accomodations"
When those in charge of your afterlife travel arrangements will have to wait and let you contemplate your options, as you sip on a Mai Tai, let them sweat, and then you get leverage in negotiating a deluxe suite in Nirvana.
That's the 'Forks Plan C.
But then again, once you're dead, you have no choice...or do you?
FLYING THE NOT SO FRIENDLY SKIES| FEBRUARY 04, 2013
Someone must have been huffing some pretty strong glue, spray paint or turpentine when they made a decision to send 4 American made F-16 fighter jets to Egypt.
Egypt? They hate our guts and will more than 'Forking likely use those jets against us or our allies. If not, dismantle them and disect our technology to use it against us and begin building their own aircraft for some not so nifty purposes.
Whoever signed off on the order to give Egypt OUR military aircraft really dropped the ball. But since they insist upon aiding and abetting or enemies, why stop with a paltry 4 F-16's?
Why not toss in some American made submarines, an aircraft carrier or two to our enemies, along with several billion dollars in foreign aid, and wow, guess what? They're still going hate us.
This 'Forking goes to whomever signed off on this useless and destrucive idiotic idea.
TOP PRIORITY MEMO TO HAMBO FROM PORCUS | JANUARY 11, 2013
CLOWN$ OF A FEATHER FLOCK$ TOGETHER | JANUARY 05, 2013
PUBLIC PRAYER PUNKS | DECEMBER 24, 2012
This time of year, the usual 'Forking A-Wipes with nothing better to do than snivel about anything from public Nativity displays, Christmas trees and even Jolly Old St. Nick and most especially, prayer in State...oops, Nanny State run institutions and facilities, especially prayer in public schools or government property.
The A-Wipes are always up in arms about violation of the First Amendment's provision regarding seperating Church and State. There's a fine line and bones of contention on both sides, but, there seems to be one government run behemoth that avoids criticism from the those opposed to public prayer.
Wanna take a wild guess what the government run institution is?
It's not Congress. It's not even local City Council meetings.
Give up? It's called jail. Whether it's the local drunk tank, county lock-up or a state pen, there all kinds of so-called recent converts who while locked up after getting busted, hit their knees in prayer and request a spiritual advisor of any persuasion or flavor.
These inmates, in a moment of guilt and repentance seek forgiveness in the form of prayer, and who pays for these spiritual advisors? The taxpayers.
Who pays for the newly convicted and converted inmates Bibles? Probably not the taxpayers, but the generosity of church and outreach organizations, but fostered and sponsored by the government.
So, this 'Forking goes to those that advocate freedom from religion, while all the while trampling the First Amendment rights of individuals that choose to worship anything from Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, to Jesus, Moses, Menorahs to Mickey Mouse, thus exercising freedom of religion and choice.
Remember this First Amendment hypocites, there are no atheists in 'Forking foxholes.
The end and MERRY CHRISTMAS, from Porcus.
NEWTOWN NIGHTMARE | DECEMBER 17, 2012
Adam Lanza left his skidmark on society and innocent children with his massacre at a Newtown, Connecticut elementary school, causing the untimely and undeserved deaths of 20 innocent children and 6 adult educators'.
Lanza took it upon himself to sneak into Sandy Hook Elementary School, armed to the teeth and slaughtering little innocent lives, not to mention the effect his actions have had on his victims families, friends, the State of Connecticut, and our nation.
Before any 'Forking begins, the pissed off and saddened members of The Free State Of PIG extend to the surviving family members our condolences, thoughts and prayers to all effected by this tragedy.
'Fork Time: The minute Lanza began his murderous and cowardly killing spree,we like to hope PIG's top secret and most covert operative, known as Old Scratch, Lucifer, Satan, the Devil, already had eternal plans for Lanza the minute he took his own life.
One can hope that if Satan had a little bit of a sense of justice, Satan would have sharpened his Fork, rolled out a red carpet, complete with hot coals and escorted Lanza down the flaming hot red carpet, and welcomed him to his new suite, located in the Adolf Hitler/Pol Pot/Josef Mengle/Joseph Stalin/Genghis Khan wing of Hell.
Next order of business would be to slow roast, complete with a skewer to be permantenly applied to the anal and oral orifice's of Lunza, and slooooooow roasted over the hot as Hell coals.
Now, we'll see what Good, Bad and Ugly will come out of this.
The Good: This incident has caught the attention of lots of folks, worldwide, and many are holding charity yard sales, professional sports teams are acknowledging the innocent lives stolen with moments of silence, the wearing of black bands and prayers.
One of the most benevolent acts of kindness came from a parent that lost his daughter and said he will attend church services and offer forgiveness to Lanza, even though Lanza stole his daughter's life.
Another, private individual from North Carolina donated 26 Christmas trees, one to memorialize each victim, to line the entryway of the school.
Expect a lot more Good Samaritan gestures from sympathetic and generous folks in the near future.
The Bad: The usual, predictable, Kool-Ade drinking, NRA Hating Media Meathead A-Wipes will be out in full force, asking the same lame questions and demanding yet more useless gun control laws.
More Porcus Pitchforking goes to the pseudo-sympathetic psychobabblers that will claim that Lunza was disturbed, had Mommy issues, syndromes, disorders, was a loner, had issues and all he needed was more cookies and milk, a blanky, his teddy bear, a bedtime story and a hug from Mommy.
The Ugly: The ugliest part of this already happened, devastating families, fellow students, co-workers at the school and an entire local, small town community, a nation and world.
The Ugliest part will be that the surviving family members will never see justice done to their loved ones tragic demise, unless Satan does a good deed and sees to it that his form of justice is administered, swiftly.
GAME SHOW TIME! | DECEMBER 15, 2012
Hey, PIGsters! Wanna play a real neat game?
Thought so, but you may not after this.
The game is called: Texting, Tweeting and Talking In Public Places With Lots of Traffic Heading your Way and See What Ensues, usually a big fat SPLAT sound is the end result.
Ground Rules are as such: All you need is a brain-dead pedestrian contestant with a cell phone glued to either their ear or hands with texting capabilities and a two ton vehicle barreling down the road, right in the direction of Text-And-Tweet-For-Brains moron.
It's a very elementary game, and by all means, all habitual textsters and tweeters are invited to participate after signing a damage disclaimer, posthumously.
Let the 'Forking begin.
First, Tabatha, (OMG, LOL, BFF and all that crap) gets on her mobile communications device, complete with Hello Kitty crap apps absolutely has to call her other brain dead friend, Britney to go over such important issues like...OMG...what that cute guy was wearing, or what Melissa did to her hair, and what Tiffany did to her nails, all the while oblivious to our hero, Contestant Number Two, Brick Bazooka, who never met a gas pedal he didn't like.
Scenario: Tabatha is so immersed in her useless and fruitless airheaded conversation on her cellphone with...whomever, whatever, that she doesn't see Brick and his 4x4 coming straight at her.
Naturally, Tabatha let's out a high squealed scream as she bellows her last, and eternal OMG breath as Brick's ride flattens her worse than a pancake.
The real fun and drama starts here.
How the hell is Brick going to explain this to his insurance adjusters? How did Tabatha's brain and skull matter get embedded in the grill of his shiny new truck?
Brick now may face criminal charges. Sure, Tabitha's family will want to press charges due to their dingbat daughters ill regard for her own surroundings, other motorists and pedestrians forcing Brick to shell out some hard earned money to retain a lawyer, but Tabita Texter's family won't stop with a mere criminal charge, if any. Hell no. They want compensatation in civil court, too.
End Result: Brick gets off on all charges. All charges dropped in criminal and civil matters. He walks with a commendation fron the judge and jury for performing a much needed community service
Who wins? Tabatha's parents. Why? because they don't have to put up with a spoiled brat on THE FUCKING PHONE 24/7.
Fun 'Fortking game, huh?
We encourage all to participate.
Stay tuned, more to come, hopefully.
THANKS | NOVEMBER 24, 2012
At this time of year, your most humble publisher wants to extend thanks to all who have contributed to the Forum known as the Free State Of PIG throughout the years.
All of your graphic and textural contributions and comments are always gratefully accepted. We apologize if we don't post your contributions right away. We do keep them in reserve for future use, just so you all know.
Now, why is this 'Fork worthy? Damn glad you wondered, or even cared.
See, we get material from all over the world from all kinds of like minded,free thinking people. Most is of very PIGish quality and gets posted in a timely fashion.
But, and this gets real 'Forking good, I'll bet my dollars to Hambo's donuts that no one has a clue as to what some of the sick shit that gets sent our way gets trashed.
Example: If you've ever watched an episode of South Park or Family Guy, written by grown men, you have to wonder, how much editing was involved with that and what ended up on the cutting floor to produce an episode?
Well, we make those command decisions to reluctnantly omit some very incorrect, but inappropriate material from our little cyberspace PIG sty.
Secretly, we laugh our asses off and make decisions regarding what to post on PIG. But hey, don't let this posting prevent you from not sending us any PIGish material.
Once again, thanks for tuning in and contributing. We humbly appreciate those gestures. We can't guarantee that your contributions make the Hallowed Halls of The PIGdom pages every time, but we'll do our damn best to try and get your contributions and comments posted.
Gratefully And Always PIGishly Yours,
P.K. Crowley, aka Porcus
LET THEM EAT TWINKIES | NOVEMBER 17, 2012
With the Hostess bakery company declaring bankruptcy and closing shop over their workers' union demands, looks like the Twinkie defense is off the table and out of the window for excuse abusers.
This 'Forking goes to the employees union of Hostess and their delegates that made too many demands and forced managements hand into ultimatley laying off, (firing) 18,500 sniveling whiners. In essence, the union members 'Forked themselves out of work, but also, those addicted to Twinkies who leaned on their intake of Twinkies to get out of felonious criminal behavior.
Shame on those labor unions for eliminating not just the Twinkie defense theory, but also the Hostess enterprise.
Any sympathy from The Keeper of The 'Fork towards those that lost their jobs due to union greed? No 'Forking way, but props go to the Hostess management for standing their ground and calling prima donna union punks on their demands.
Memo to overdemading union types that forced the Hostess company's hand and you out of work: You didn't get your demands met, live with it. And all I can say is instead of "Let them eat cake," I say, Let them eat what's left of the Twinkie crumbs they ain't gonna get unless they get on their knees and beg.
But, being about solutions, I propose to the newest members of America's unemployed army. Buy some tin cups, pencils and sunglasses and peddle your wares on the sidewalk.
APOLOGY TOURS | NOVEMBER 12, 2012
Victoria's Secret is the latest to cave in and go on an apology tour for creating and displaying a woman in an Indian headdress that seems to have ruffled some feathers.
Model Karlie Kloss, seen below, apparently offended some Indian Casino Owner types by stereotyping tribal Indians with her outfit claiming the headdress is an insult to so called 'Native' Americans and should not be worn by anyone but Indians.
'Fork that! Who the hell said Indians had a monopoly on wearing feather adorned headdresses? In America, anyone can stick a feather in one's cap, or wear warpaint and wear a headdress, or even play cowboys and Indians.
The real 'Forking goes to Victoria's Secret for caving in and catering to the hypersensitive demands of tribal nations and their sniveling.
Now after enjoying the looks of this piece of Squaw Bread, scroll down and click the link provided.
For more, click the link below and read the comments on the page as I go smoke um peace pipe.
THANK YOU, ALL VETERANS | NOVEMBER 11, 2012
The image below is of then General George Washington on his knees asking for Divine Guidance and Inspiration during the Colonial Army's brutal winter at Valley Forge.
Whatever happened as a result of Washington's personal conference with The Almighty, got him to rally his troops, cross the Delaware River and open some major cans of whoop-ass against King George's Redcoat troops.
We here at The 'Fork wish to extend thanks to the memory of eveyone who served under Washington all the way to those that still serve and have served.
Most humble thanks and gratitude for your service, sacrifice and bravery from the Free State Of PIG.
STUPIDITY AT IT'S WORST | NOVEMBER 09, 2012
With the recent re-election of Barak Obama as Boy Blunder In Charge, I thought, well, what's the use in spinning my wheels with a spirit of hatred, and doing hit pieces on the son of a ...whatever that will rape, ruin and pillage our nation and freedoms.
Instead, I propose we gather round the campfire in a bi-partisan effort, join hands, sing Kum Ba Yah and have a big group hug afterwords and look "Forward" in unison as one big happy village.
I can already feel the warm fuzzies and taste those Gummie Bears as we all watch the rainbows and unicorns as we hold hands and....
Uh Oh! Hambo just bitch slapped me into reality.
OK, the Keeper Of The 'Fork is back in service.
This Double Dog 'Forking, with no K-Y Jelly and no reach around goes straight to the idiot mass of Zombies that voted this turd in for second term.
You Obamanauts 'Forked our nation into a state of submission, again, have an agenda to tax regular folks to pay, excessively for your special, personal needs like taxpayer funded bailouts, birth control, and other free stuff and junk, and drive us further and further into debt with our Ping Pong creditors in China.
'Fork it! Obamaholics, I hope you sleep soundly at night, collecting your food stamps and all other taxpayer funded entitlements as the rest of us have to live on Reality Street, struggling to make ends meet.
Is Porcus pissed? 'Fork yes, at the stupidity of the Ex-Americans that voted for the rat bastard, and his wife, that will live rent free in the White House.
Damn right, I'm 'Forking pissed.
NEWS NIT WITS | OCTOBER 29, 2012
I heard one of the dumbest News Nit Wit questions of all time.
In regards to Hurricane Sandy, the usual Meatheads are out on the east coast reporting as to the current conditions and predictions of this hurricane. You know, Storm Coverage idiocy.
Well, while in the 'Forking process of the live interview, complete with a cameraman in Virginia Beach, Virginia, a man who was behind soaking wet News Nit Wit was a dude on the beach with a metal detector or geiger counter seeking to scoop up some washed up booty, loot, treasure, whatever.
Well, here's where the dumbest question comes in. The anchorman asked on the spot News Numbnuts, reporter "Hey, what's that guy behind you doing on the beach in this hurricane?"
'Fork that! What gives blow dried reporters higher status and access to emergency situations and putting themselves at risk as opposed to some dude walking down a hurricane ravaged beach by Hurricane Sandy than a private citizen?
The Keeper of The Fork can answer that. He's doing the same as you, News Nit Wit. Hanging out on the beach during a hurricane. So, who's dumber?
PIGsters, do the math.
But hey, on a sidenote maybe some good can result from this impending act of Mother Nature.
What the 'Fork. Hey, Hurricane Sandy, while on your way through New Jersey, can you find a way to dispose of the cast of Jersey Shore, Snooki and The Situation and send them far, far away, and while you're at it, send News Nits Wits to a further galaxy in the process?
WHAT THE FLUKE? | OCTOBER 06, 2012
This 'Forking goes out to the The Fluke, as in Sandra Fluke.
Fluke made a lame speech in front of House Democrats advocating for a government mandated insurance clause to include contraceptives and birth control for womyn.
Does that, when translated, mean that the government goons are going to force We The People to become her pimps and sponsor her to strap a mattress to her back and allow any and every Tom, DICK and Harry to play hide the sausage with her…it?
'Fork It! First, who the hell would want to have sex with her in the first place, much less look or listen to her? And, if anyone does, they’ve got to be the drunkest sailors on leave, blind as a bat, or one of those desperate ‘last call’ at the bar prowlers.
Either she’s a law school prostitute, oxymoron intended, or she pays men to do the dastardly deed. If she gets her way, I want mine. I want vouchers and mandates for my cigarettes, beer, gas, strip clubs, weed, hookers, cable, dope, etc.
I’ll stop here and insert the words of Rush Limbaugh, who’s usually right. This time, he’s right on.
Memo to Fluke: How about getting your tubes tied, put a cork in your 'you know what', get a chastity belt, or put a paper bag over your face, and when the drunken dude is done and realizes what he just did, and with who, he'll need that paper bag as a barf bag.
'Fork it. Fluke is a fine name, but in her/it's case it rhymes with puke. Also, I offer my apologies for posting the image of Uglo-Tard Fluke.
UNFORKING BELIEVABLE: BANNED BOOKS | OCTOBER 02, 2012
The following was lifted from a Glendora, CA website, Glendorapatch.com
It's hard for many to believe that banning books is still alive and well throughout America.
Echoes of Nazi Germany and North Korea? You bet, and now the 'Forking uptight, 'It's for the children" squardron of simple minded, had enough time on their hands to compile a list of what books they want banned from schools and librarys.
My always humble 'Forking won't do this justice, so here goes:
Banned Books Weeks 2012: 10 Most Challenged Titles
Censorship is alive and well, as highlighted by Banned Books Week—and you might be surprised by who the most vocal challengers of books are.
The importance of the First Amendment and the concept of "intellectual freedom" might not always be readily apparent to most kids, but Banned Books Week is a great opportunity to make those lessons come alive for children—and adults.
Banned Books Week is held annually during the last week of September (Sept. 30-Oct. 6). The week is an occasion for libraries and bookstores across the U.S. to help folks realize just how real and ongoing a problem censorship is.
More than 11,000 books have been challenged (though not necessarily successfully censored) since 1982, the inaugural year of Banned Books Week. According to the American Library Association (ALA), the vast majority of challenges to books are initiated locally by parents, likely in well-meaning attempts to protect their children.
Last year, there were 326 challenges reported to the ALA’s Office of Intellectual Freedom, based on everything from offensive language, to violence, insensitivity, religious viewpoint and sexual explicitness. In addition to those challenges, the ALA estimates that as many as 60 to 70 percent of challenges may go unreported.
Over the past year, the 10 most challenged titles were:
Among banned and challenged classics you’re likely familiar with are:
If you’re interested in celebrating Banned Books Week as part of a lesson for your kids—or simply to feel like a rebellious reader—check out these additional resources:
PISSED | SEPTEMBER 29, 2012
A long time ago, when your most humble publisher, Porcus was literally a starving artist and student, a scam/scum job so-called 'artist' Andres Serrano comes along with his signature piece, titled, "Piss Christ," pictured below.
Now, is this image a painting? 'Fork no.
Did he create it with money out of his pocket? Double 'Fork no.
I know. What's my issue with this Porcus?
I'll inform you, maybe with a little trip down art history lane.
Break out the fingerpaints and take notes.
This piece of shit, Andres Serrano, got a federal grant from the NEA - National Endowment For The Arts to create this pathetic piece of shit.
The medium he used was not paint, but guess what? His own urine, a jar and a crucifix, all on the taxpayer's dime.
What talent, huh?
This 'Forking goes not only to him, but the usual turtleneck wearing, artsy-fartsy wannabe artists like Serrano that couldn't cut in the free market of the art world, and hailed his 'work' as a masterpiece.
I agree. It is a piece alright. A piece of what? Use your imagination.
But wait! It gets better for him and worse for us. Because these Bohemian art critic types got mesmerized, and his load of piss went on a national tour, earning Serrano "criticaly acclaimed" status.
Wow. I didn't know that by simply taking a leak in a jar, "in the name of art, of course" could bring fame and fortune to the provider of the piss.
Now, am I pissed? You bet, but I have a solution.
I can one-up this scam artist. I host a beer fest and barbeque, get a bucket and everyone takes a leak, drains themselves, stick a photograph of Serrano inside and see what happens when I shop that piece of 'art' gets shopped around.
I'll title it "Piss Serrano."
'Forking begins, right about...now.
Serrano, you suck. NEA, you suck too for fostering his piece of shit exhibition, and you know what you suck. When you're done sucking, you know what you can kiss.
That thing, pictured, is a real insult to good folks that sacrifice, work their asses off in art school to learn how to practice their craft as future artists, while living on cheap Top Ramen.
Woops! Did I mention that image is also insulting to regular church going people?
Well, I have to take a piss myself. At least I have a toilet.
SOLUTIONS | SEPTEMBER 22, 2012
Well, the blind idoits that are burning, looting and murdering are making demands that we release the Blind Sheik for health and humanitarian issues.
Sure thing. As if his release will stop all world violence and create warm fuzzies as we all embrace in an international group hug.
For those that don't know who this tool is, he masterminded the first World Trade Center attack in 1993 and is serving a life sentence in an American prison.
Normally, The Keeper Of The 'Fork would say, "'Fork You!"as far as conceding to or considering demands of the worlds worms, but upon further consideration, I thought that perhaps there may be a viable and amicable solution regarding his release.
Before you 'Fork me, hear me out.
First, we agree upon his release, OUR way, which is one body part at a time.
We can begin with the handy fellas over at American Chopper that start with a pair of needlenose pliers and remove his finger and toenails.
Next, we can have Lorena Bobbit and her Ginsu knife collection remove his tiny useless testicles.
Gets better. We can get some crows to pick and eat his eyeballs out - remember, an eye for an eye.
Then, we get the Queer Eye For Straight Guys to give him/it a complete fashion makeover, beginning with his ridiculous headgear.
For the grand finale, a Samurai warrior with his sword will behead him.
After all the disassembly, we stick his remains in a crate, do a flyover to whatever hole they want him in, complete with a live pig and parachute them down and the rat bastards that want him so bad can put him back together, piece by piece.
Remember, the F.S.O.P. is about solutions and my humble proposal would make everyone happy, especially Americans. Tee Hee.
OUR PLANETS PLAGUE | SEPTEMBER 16, 2012
Recent violence in the Middle East has driven a certain PIG staffer, me, to go to his garage and break out his vintage, limited edition of his Pitchfork and sharpen this baby up.
Why? Damn glad you stopped by and asked.
Our great nation is under assualt. Not just internationaly, but even here at home from lowlife bottom feeding, brainwashed SCUM.
Kill our citizens who are trying to help you in your Bedrock ridden country? Burn our flags at OUR embassies?
That's to be expected.
You don't need me to explain what is and what will happen with these so-called humans that give maggots a bad name and I don't want to waste my beloved 'Fork on them.
Rather, this 'Forking goes to the gutless wonder in the White House that makes Jimmy Carter look like Hercules with his inaction in defending Americans and our interests abroad.
The 'Forking doesn't stop there, Mr. C-I-C. With the HNIC in charge who is more concerned with raising money for his pathetic election campaign, golf scores, and apologizing to the dirtbags that plague our planet and hate our guts, my 'Fork, at the very least, gets admistered to the nadless wonder to occupies Air Force One and does and grand total of...NOTHING.
Wait! I just spoke to my trusty 'Fork, and she reminded me that due to lack of action, we may become international laughing stocks and regarded as wimps of the world.
Thanks loads, Barry. The Hope and Change thing worked on some suckers for about a minute and was nothing but a scam and a lot of folks thought you took and oath to defend our Constitution and nation.
Barry, don't go. My 'Fork just said she doesn't want to be wasted on you, either, but, good news! We'll take you to any airport that might be headed towards Indonesia, Hawaii, or even Kenya.
Mr. Barry, you ARE part of the plague.
Burnign question, Mr. Barry. WHEN THE HELL ARE YOU GOING TO DO SOMETHING, ANY DAMN THING ABOUT THE PESTS AND PLAGUES OF THE WORLD?
I know. Never.
Hope your golf score thing is working for you, and enjoy the picture, below, of your homeboys at work.
'Forking off for now,
'FORK IN THE MOUTH, V.P. STYLE | AUGUST 20, 2012
Last week, Vice President, Joe "Foot-In-The-Mouth" Biden, undisputed king of public political gaffes, was at his best/worst when he squirted out this all-time steamer:
“Look at what they [Republicans] value, and look at their budget. And look what they're proposing. [Romney] said in the first 100 days, he's going to let the big banks write their own rules -- unchain Wall Street. They're going to put y'all back in chains."
Saying it in front of a largely black audience is one thing, but saying it in a plantation massa accent/dialect sheds an entirely different (racist) light on the context of his rambling.
For casually brushing that one aside and giving Biden something of a free pass, while still bringing up Dan Quayle's gaffes and especially his 'Potato(e)' incident, this 'Forking goes to Obama's P.R. wing, the Mainstream Media Meatheads and News Nit-Wits.
But the 'Forking won't stop there. Let's make this fun and post some classic Biden and Quayle blunders and see which one of these steamers floats the highest and longest.
We'll begin by taking a trip down memory lane with some classics from the Dan Quayle files, beginning with the famous potato incident:
And now for some Golden D'Ohs from Joe "Toys In The Attic" Biden.
As you read the following, keep in mind that Biden is Number Two H.N.I.C.:
Well there's a couple of loose cannons for you. The only difference is, is that one of them is still in office, and is friends and running mate of Barak "America."
Fun stuff, huh, PIGsters?
Four more years of Biden may provide for hours of much entertainment, but will also contribute to 'Forking the hell out of America.
ONLY IN AMERICA: PART II | AUGUST 15, 2012
In an effort to assist Hambo, I found the following tid-bit that I thought he could use, but he informed me that he had already written and posted this weeks Top Story.
After reading his Top Story and realizing that he nailed it, as usual, I thought that the following would accentuate Hambo's scribblings and was also too good to let disappear into cyber-oblivion:
20 'ONLY IN AMERICA' IRONIES
By John Hawkins
John Hawkins is a professional blogger who runs Right Wing News
1) Only in America could politicians talk about the greed of the rich at a $35,000 a plate campaign fund raising event.
2) Only in America could people claim that the government still discriminates against black Americans when we have a black President, a black Attorney General, and roughly 18% of the federal workforce is black.
3) Only in America could we have had the two people most responsible for our tax code, Timothy Geithner, the head of the Treasury Department and Charles Rangel who once ran the Ways and Means Committee, BOTH turn out to be tax cheats who are in favor of higher taxes.
4) Only in America will you find people who burn the American flag and call America an "imperialist nation," but who get offended if you say they're not patriotic.
5) Only in America can we have terrorists kill people in the name of Allah and have the media primarily react by fretting that Muslims might be harmed by the backlash.
6) Only in America could someone drinking a $5 latte and texting to his friends on an iPhone 4 complain that the government allows some people to make too much money.
7) Only in America would people take rappers who brag about shooting people and selling drugs seriously when they complain the police are targeting them unfairly.
8) Only in America would we make people who want to legally become American citizens wait for years in their home countries and pay tens of thousands of dollars for the privilege while we discuss letting anyone who sneaks into the country illegally just become American citizens.
9) Only in America could the people who believe in balancing the budget and sticking by the country's Constitution be thought of as "extremists."
10) Only in America could the most vicious foes of successful conservative women be self-proclaimed feminists and the National Organization for Women.
11) Only in America could you need to present a driver's license to cash a check or buy alcohol, but not to vote.
12) Only in America can we have terrorists fly planes into our buildings and have some people’s first thought be "what did we do to make them hate us?"
13) Only in America would we think teaching kids at college is an appropriate job for communists, terrorists, and other dregs of humanity.
14) Only in America could people demand the government investigate whether the oil companies are gouging the public because the price of gas went up when for every penny of profit the oil companies make, the government tacks on roughly 24 cents’ worth of taxes.
15) Only in America could the first people asked to weigh in on the seriousness of a racial incident by the media be professional race hustlers like Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton, and Ben Jealous. In other words, it's like calling in a car dealer as a neutral source on whether or not you need to get a new car.
16) Only in America does airport security put its hands on your underwear....while you're wearing it.
17) Only in America could the government force a skating rink to have handicapped parking spots and Braille on the ATM machines.
18) Only in America could the government collect more tax dollars from the people than any nation ever has before in all of recorded history, still spend a trillion dollars more that it has per year, and complain that it doesn't have nearly enough money.
19) Only in America could the rich people who pay 86% of all income taxes be accused of not paying their "fair share" by people who don't pay any income taxes at all.
20) Only in America could the people who approve of slaughtering 25 million females babies via abortion accuse OTHER PEOPLE of waging a "war on women."
THE MAN ISLE | JULY 29, 2012
Management at Westside Market in New York City were joking around recently and came up with a solution to those wandering lost souls in the shopping aisles.
So, they created a section in the market aimed exculsively for men.
The shelves are stocked with all the essentials any self-respecting Man-Cave Dweller would need to stock up on.
In the Man Isle, one can find everything a dude would want. Beer, chips, jerky, shaving equipment, barbeque sauce, condoms, even more beer, salsa, nuts, shampoo, deodorant, and much more.
Basically, the basics.
Nifty idea, but the creators neglected to add a few things to make shopping in the Man Isle a truly 'male' experience, and for this, they get 'Forked.
For instance, Dude is halfway out the door when SHE asks him to pick her up some tampons and some type of sweet smelling douche bag or Summer's Eve. I don't think the Man Isle is equipped for that type of overload to a dudes psyche, but the owners ought to anticipate requests from him, and demands from HER.
Other items to consider. Padlocks to keep HER out of the sacred Man Cave. Should she gain entry, The Man Isle should have the forethought and consideration for HIM to stock up on duct tape for those times SHE will not keep her trap shut during game time.
Razor wire ought to be placed around the perimeter to keep out the shrills, as well as a preferred Man Isle Card for dudes to gain exclusive access.
Can't cruise the Man Isle without making a statement with a pimped out shopping cart.
Last but not least, a seperate checkout lane just for men. No more waiting on Two-Ton Matilda who shops in bulk 3 times a week or Blue Haired Betsy who clutches coupons in her cobwebbed claws as if her life depended on it. No, just a simple, streamlined shopping experience, Just For Men.
Dudes! Don't you feel SO 'liberated*' and 'empowered**' now? If not, how about now having a sense of simple peace and f**king quiet?
If you ever find yourself at the Man Isle in the Westside Market at 110th and Broadway, tell 'em PIG sent you.
Note: For all you No-Nads that wanted preferential (special) treatment and 'rights' simply because you have no nads, well political correctness and seperatism has really gone full circle and taken a huge bite out of your asses. You can call the Man Isle 'Shopping For Dummies' or misongynistic, but the truth is, you're bitter because men thought of it first.
* Liberated - A Way overused Politically Correct term used by NO-NADs and Gendercrat. Used sarcastically in the context of this 'Forking.
** Empowered - Same crap-ola as 'Liberated.'
A DEDICATION TO THOSE THAT '...DIDN'T BUILD THAT' | JULY 19, 2012
With Obama really stepping in it with his "...You didn't build that" load of crap, I thought it would be appropriate to remind former, present and future innovators, inventors, visionarys and entrepeneurs exactly what they didn't build.
Before scrolling down, I wonder if The One would be willing to tell Hambo and Porcus that we didn't really build The Free State Of PIG. Somebody did it for us.
ROBERT BLAKE 'FORKS PIERS MORGAN | JULY 13, 2012
Former child star, Little Rascal and tough guy actor Robert "Baretta" Blake recently appeared on CNN to discuss his book, "Tales Of A Rascal."
Piers Morgan who replaced the Larry King Live time slot, had Blake stop by and talk about almost anything but his book.
Morgan tried his best to push Blake's buttons with questions about his personal life and murder trial aquittal.
With every question, Blake came firing back locked and loaded with both barrels blazing.
Blake, full of his standard issue piss and vinegar, complete with his overtly opinionated attitude answered the questions his way.
It's an interview like no other, but telling it like it is, is Blakes no shit style both publicly and privately.
Don't ask how I know.
Click the link below
MANS BEST FRIEND | JULY 03, 2012
Here at the Porcus Estate, we recently got a dog. Well, that little pooch may appear to be cute and cuddly, but, if ANYONE, especially those of the scumbag ilk tries to enter our property on her watch, she alerts me. I, in turn alert Mister Tire Iron.
Dogs are mans best friend because:
1) They don't nag.
2) They don't want to drag you to the mall while the game is on.
3) They are pretty much low maintenance.
4) Most importantly, they are eternally loyal to their master and will do anything to protect you.
This 'Forking is for wannabe badasses, burglars and other degenerates that feel free to break and enter into someone's home to steal their goodies, but once they meet Fido and Rover, will think twice, do an about face and run fast and far from your home.
We double dog dare any criminal coward to even attempt to approach a loyal pooch.
Remember the old adage: "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog."
Over and out.
Bow Wow and Ruff Ruff.
'FORKING AROUND ON THE PHONE | JUNE 26, 2012
Recently, I saw an ad on TV advertising college scholarships to Native Americans by the Morongo (We love whiteys money at our casinos) Indian Tribe.
Well, I said hot diggity. I have a son of college age that just so happens to be native to America. I call them up and they explained their criteria.
He must be a native American, which he is by virtue of birth. They asked what tribe, and I said my tribe, American, he was born here.
Well, the brainwashed idiot on the other end of the phone said that neither he nor I were native Americans.
I retorted by saying, "Well in your TV ad, the scholarship was for native Americans, and since we were both born here, how does that negate he or I being "native" Americans? After all, where else would we a native of, Pakistan?"
Well, that set off a volley of me talking back to an idiot, and yes, I was trying push buttons to find out the mind set of others that claim to have a monopoly on being native Americans and victims of...whatever.
I knew that engaging her in a historical review of Americas history, and that when her forefathers came here, it wasn't even America, but pretty much sand, dirt and wilderness, would be futile.
Sure enough, after asking enough hard questions and pushing enough buttons, I got the predicted response I had anticipated.
See, the 'Forking goes out to ignorant, self important politically correct "minority" gangs, groups and tribes that don't realize that they excerise what they claim to be victims of. Seperatism, exclusionism, prejudice, and even racism.
'Fork off, casino owners.
Does Porcus have too much time on his hands? 'Fork yeah.
LITTLE BLACK SAMBO ARTWORK | JUNE 02, 2012
It dawned upon me that The Free State Of PIG has been especially critical and hard on Je$$e, Inc., Al $harpton and the rest of their money grubbing, Race Card carrying ilk, scum, sludge, whatever.
Well, I'm not on this page to atone for my transgressions regarding those low rent characters. No way. I'm here to amplify them.
See, here in the PIGdoms War Room, we recieve a publication called Collector Magazine, and the following advertisements for old Negro art and ceramics were spotted by the Keeper Of The 'Fork.
I scanned them in and didn't know where to put the images. But, while cleaning up my files and desktop, I thought I would put those scans on the pages of PIG.
Hey, Je$$e, Al, and all of the other extortionist worms,'Fork You, you make money from Whitey's wallet, and attempt to instill white guilt to uninformed, rich white liberals and Korrectniks, so what's the harm in some little old lady making money out of images of Sambo in an antique publication? As if you really knew Little Black Sambo himself, and will probably and predictably demand reparations.
Fair is fair, and equality is equality. Right, Bro?
Not only do we hope you enjoy the following, but I REALLY hope that Je$$e and Al do too.
My advice to Little Black Sambo...run Sambo, run!
Run 'Forking fast, too when you see the likes of real Uncle Toms like Je$$e and Al $harpton chasing you to help put bread, chitlins, grits, greens, watermelon and of course, fried chicken on their tables.
THE RAPE OF CHINATOWN | JUNE 01, 2012
It seems as if local merchants in the Los Angeles Chinatown district are up in arms about the prospect of a new Wal-Mart muscling in on their business.
We've all heard of the pros and cons of a Wal-Mart moving into certain neighborhoods, but this 'Forking, indirectly, has little to do with that issue.
I don't know what the Chinatown merchants are crying about. Most of the stuff in Wal-Mart is made by their homeboys in China, so what's the Kung Pao beef about?
But, this being PIG, we can be about solutions, once in a while. I've got several suggestions:
First, Shut the 'Fork up and quit your whining. This is America and you don't have a monopoly on regulating who can do business and where they can conduct their business.
Or, move back to China. American sellout corporations are always hiring in China.
Or, you be cooperative and work for the Wal-Mart that you think is going to threaten your business.
Or, since you come to this country thinking you're better and smarter than Americans, buy Wal-Mart products in bulk, take them back to your shop, mark up the prices and rip off your customers. After all, many of Wal-Mart products have cheap "Made In China" stickers affixed to them anyway.
Looks like the pendelum has swung the other way and lopped off some chop sticks concerning American-Chinese business relations. That's the way the fortune cookie crumbles, huh?
Hooray for Wal-Mart! Maybe they're taking heed in the old Chinese proverb, "It's better to be pissed off than pissed on."
UN-FORKING BELIEVABLE | MAY 25, 2012
The reason for this Forking will be revealed later. For now, I'll unleash the amazing talents of visual/performance artist, David Garibaldi, who specializes in speed painting.
What he does is incorporate themed music with a dance troupe as he brushes off portraits of anyone from Ludwig Von Beethoven, Michael Jackson, Jesus Christ, Bruce Lee, Bob Marley, Elvis Presley and many more.
The amazing thing is, is that he can execute his paintings in 2 minutes or less, on stage in front of a live audience.
I'll provide some links which will be provided below, but now for the Forking.
Who gets the Fork?
Me. I spent 4 years of my life learning art at a high caliber, private art institute in order to learn my craft, and along comes this guy, who knocked my kneecaps off and took my breath away with his out of this world talent.
Even if you are not an art fan, you'll like these clips.
Oh, and kids, by all means DO try this at home, and don't worry about what Mommy and Daddy say when you use the hallway walls as a canvas.
Now, in order to get to know him, here is his website:
UNGRATEFUL MOOCHERS | MAY 21, 2012
I'll preface this Forking with a quote from Mark Twain:
This Forking is an official memo to people that attempt to put a financial touch on you with some bogus, contrived plot to seperate you from your money in the form of an "I need it now" emergency personal loan.
The requests usually come complete with "I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for some $$$ today" with the usual sob story about them needing money for...whatever lame ass excuse they have.
Don't get me wrong. Some decent folks have had to ask for some financial favor from a friend or family member for a legitimate reason, and that's fine in the Forkdom. After all, most people had to ask some bottom feeding bank for a home or car loan.
However, we'll let the Forking begin with examples of ungrateful A-Wipes that didn't get their sticky fingers in your wallet or pockets.
Example #1: When someone who just got laid off with no job prospects, asks you to spot them money for a down payment for a shiny new car, act as co-signer, and help with monthly payments, and when you decline, they say "F**k You!" and hang up the phone.
Total ungratefulness. The Mooch can say "F**k You!" all day long, but to them I administer a Forking and cross them off of my "List."
Example #2: When someone calls on the phone, asks for X amount of money for a "dire" dental condition and you tell them you would like to consider it. You then go on their Facebook page and find out that person is bragging to their Facebook friends about a brand new pair of Bose speakers for the exact amount of the money they attempted to "borrow."
Call that person back and ask what's up with the speakers and I'm going to say no to your request and suggest that they can always sell their speakers if your dental condition is that bad.
They, in turn, tell you that you suck.
Standard response from an ingrate that deserves The Fork.
Example #3: When a perpetual parasite tells you to go to hell for the last time they tried to hit you up and you said no.
Parasite then calls back with some other lame ass sob story about this, that or the other petty thing and say no when you find out they just bought a new house and say NO, just Fork 'em and hang up the phone.
The bottom line of this Forking is that when you say no to those who ask for money AND bullshit you, and you know it, is that in the Moochers eyes, YOU are now the mean, rotten cheapskate tightwad Scrooge of a bad guy.
Oh, by the way, Moocher gets really pissed when you tell them to get a job or ask Mommy for the money.
Remember the words of John Lennon, "F is not a dirty word."
On this family friendly website, "F" stands for Fork.
REAL MOTHERS | MAY 09, 2012
What is a real mother and why is this Fork worthy?
I'll explain what a Mom is for those that have no clue and who gets Forked, later.
A Mom is that one 'Go To' person in your life you can always count on when you begin to experience life's trials and tribulations.
A Mom is one who would patch you up after a hard day of playing on railroad tracks and wrecking your new pair of blue jeans and bicycle trying to play Evel Kneivel, put a band aid on your boo-boos and make everything all better.
A Mom is that special person who attends your sporting and scholastic events with glowing pride.
A Mom is that special woman who turns off the TV and makes you do your homework, whether you like it or not.
A Mom keeps the household and family together and provides for her children.
A Mom also provides a shoulder to cry on when things get real shitty.
A Mom is someone who makes sure you get fed, clothed and properly educated.
A Mom is someone who exercises tough love when someone screws up and makes them pay for their mistakes.
I can go on and on about the selflessness and dedication Mothers have toward their children, and why EVERY day, people ought to acknowledge their Mothers for all of their sacrifices, just for YOU.
Now the fun Forking begins.
This goes out to basement boys, credit card torching kids that take their mother for granted and in some cases, treat their own mother as a doormat, laundromat and free eatery. Punks and pussies, the whole lot of you.
Who am I and how do I know?
Porcus lost his mother recently, and not an hour goes by when I don't reflect in gratitude for ALL she did for our family.
And I mean EVERYTHING.
Get the picture, spoiled brats? If not, you get the Fork. However, if bottom feeders want some redemption, simply walk up to your Mom, give her a hug and tell her what a great Mom she is. She'll love it and you can avoid a Forking.
For those that worship and appreciate all your Mom did for you, two thumbs up.
I make no apologies for getting soft and mushy, but you only get one Mom, right?
BREAKIN' THE LAW | MAY 06, 2012
When is it OK to break the law?
One, when you're an illegal border jumper operating a motor vehicle without a license.
Two, when you're an L.A.P.D. officer that pulls over an unlicensed illegal and ignore the California State Law which requires police to impound the vehicles of unlicensed drivers for 30 days.
The Los Angeles Police are saying that the state law is unfair because it limits the ability for illegal immigrants to get to work and imposes a fine on them to get their car back.
According to L.A. Police Chief Charlie Beck, “It’s about fairness. It’s about equal application of the law.”
'Fork that crap. "Equal application of the law?"
Well, some scum is more equal than others, huh?
That's just what Mexifornia, especially Los Angeles needs. Another incentive for border jumpers to skate and skirt the laws of our land, while the rest of us are subject to the regular rules and regulations of the land.
This Forking is aimed right at the LAPD for caving in and acting like they really care about Disease Ridden Scum that hop our borders and cater to the entitlement demanding A-Holes that get special rights above and beyond what is written in the U.S. Constitution.
Fork you, LAPD, especially Chief Charlie Beck.
OCCUTARDATION | JANUARY 03, 2012
The lamebrains, whiners, Kool-Ade swilling Follow The Herd types, vagrants and fleabags participating in the 'Occupy' movement throughout the country have little, if any respect for most peaceful working people from not just Wall Street, but Main Street as well and deserve, not earned, a severe 'Forking.
Guess what Occutards? When you show no respect, you get no respect.
Why? What's the purpose of pitching tents, clogging roadways, preventing honest people from getting to and from their jobs, littering, commiting crime, probably panhandling, harassing, and shoplifting. Not to mention being litterbugs and costing local municipalities to pay for the cleanup of your leavin's when you pack up and leave, which probably include styrofoam cups, cigarette butts, hambuger wrappers, and probably condoms and fecal matter.
This 'Forking will be short and goes as such without getting into specifics. We do beleive that you have the right to peacefully protest, BUT, you should not hinder or obstruct, or tresspass upon anyone that disagrees with you from pursuing THEIR right to Life, Liberty And The Pursuit Of Happiness and/or exercising their First Amendemnt Rights as well.
Tell you what Occutardists, how about if a mob assembled on YOUR lawn, pitched tents, scratched their asses and armpits, took dumps on the sidewalk that YOU have clean up, had open sex, played loud music and basically, disturbed the peace and harassed your neighbors as you do?
Bet that wouldn't fare well with you.
You get 'Forked because you are worse than the pirates you are protesting.
What you ought to target your manufactured rage at is not Corporate America, but those that enabled and fostered the bailouts, debt ceilings, proposed Socialised medicine...the Federal Government, Union supporters, siphoners or members, The Capitol Hill Clowns, and especially, our Golfer and Vacationer-In Chief, Obama.
I said it, and stand by it.
Now, get off OUR lawn, fleabags.
'Fork You, and consider getting a life, Occutards.
SELF-'FORKULATION | AUGUST 05, 2011
The initial purpose of creating The Porcus Pitchfork page was and is to provide a forum (for Porcus) to critique, stigmatize, laugh at and administer a 'Forking to those deemed most deserving of receiving the business end of the 'Fork.
Everyone is considered fair game, and this 'Forking Fiesta goes to none other than The Keeper Of The 'Fork...Me!
That's right. I've exiled myself to a corner in a dark room, sucking my thumb and 'Forking Off. In case you didn't know, your most humble publisher has been know to be in the wrong once, maybe twice in his life. More like twice this week alone.
I know. Being as modest as I am, it really is hard to believe, even for me, but true nonetheless.
Like anyone else, I've registered on my own radar and am prone to the same mistakes, screw ups, bad moves, from time to time catch a case of the old "Foot In Mouth" condition, and have awarded myself the "Golden D'oh!" award many times.
As recently as this week, I was the cause of two minor mishaps regarding this website. Luckily, Hambo immediately caught both screw ups, fixed them, and didn't lecture me, Hammer me, or even put me on Double Secret Probation.
I've been known to piss some folks off, tell the wrong, sometimes right people precisely where to stick it, and why they suck. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hanging with the wrong crowd, namely, me. I'm way guilty of all of those and many, many more, and sometimes as a repeat offender, and have always paid the price.
Don't get me wrong. This NOT a true confessions posting. I can't do that, here anyway, due to the statute of limitations.
This posting is to prove that no one, not even me, is immune to an In-Your-Face 'Forkjob. The difference between 'them' and 'me' is that I don't swallow. After all, if someone, something is worthy of getting 'Forked by me, I'de like to know who died and declared that I can't 'Fork myself?
Does this mean that the 'Fork is getting soft and dull?
Not by a longshot.
The tines of the 'Fork are sharper than ever and the woodshed is currently empty, awaiting it's next 'Fork-A-Thon.
Finally, just so you know. I did not go blind, nor did I grow hair on the palms of my hands as a result of this adventure in Self-Forkulation.
'Forking Off until next time,
COMPETITION | JUNE 11, 2011
The arrogant eggheaded Ivory Tower A-Holes, who think (think?) that just because someone shows up at anything involving competition merits and deserves a trophy, gold star or a smiley face even when they blow chunks and suck some hard nard, are total 'Tards.
Enabling and encouraging young people with no creative, artistic, musical, athletic, or educational knack, talent or ability, then giving them an award for merely showing up to boost their self-esteem is felonious.
It's equivilant to a fat girl who lost 2 pounds in 3 months because she kicked the Twinkie habit and struts around town with a...gasp...blue veined fat stomach revealing shirt that says "I'm Sexy."
Well, she showed up, got a brand new, high octane self esteem. How neat is that? Warm fuzzies all around, huh?
Back to the subject of competition, and I'll make this brief. Competition brings out the best of the best that due to hard work, or natural talent by virtue, gets them to the top and when they get to the top, they get that brass ring, trophy, certificate, or, more importantly, the thrill of victory or knowing they didn't just 'Show up' they kicked ass, Forked their competitors at whatever they did, and won.
Case in point: I recently attended a college version of an American Idol musical competition, in which my neice was performing. Prior to her taking the stage, there were some other female acts that relied mainly on their low cut on the top, high cut on the bottom dresses, long legs to save them, because they had as much talent as a blade of grass when it came to singing.
When my neice hit the stage with her band, she brought the house down. Twice, with standing ovations each time.
After she won, she appoached us and I had to ask, "Where does this talent come from?
She replied, "Hard work, and a lot of practice.I want to win"
She beat and Forked the competition, hands down and won a sweet prize for her performance.
Afterwards, while I sparked up a victory cigar, I heard some disgruntlded parents complaining that their precious spawn should have won. Tough toenails, the best person won, and you need to get over it.
Memo to parents of losers, of anything: If your kid sucks at what YOU want them to do, be it anything from athletics, poetry or violin recitals, raking leaves, sometime you have to face reality and admit, my son/daughter just isn't geared for this.
There is hope and good news. McDonalds is always hiring, and in time your untalented, uncompetitive kids can learn how to say, "Do you want fries with that?"
I want to leave on a happy, yet, Forking note to parents that don't instill a "Be The Best You Can Be" Attitude towards their children.
This is for the parents of the losers, courtesy of The Forkdom:
Don't be pissed,
Don't feel dissed,
Don't be an ingrate,
Accept your fate,
Your kid sucks,
And didn't get the bucks,
Just hit the road and kick some rocks,
If your untalented kid wants to be famous,
They'll have to learn how to suck on some...(Let's see, what rhymes with rocks? Use your imagination.)
Your kid was a dork,
And you get The Fork.
So, if you want to chew on sour grapes because you or your kid can't cut it, get lost or get Forked.
WHIPPED | MAY 15, 2011
*Publisher's Note: I did not write this, but I coudn't resist posting it.I lifted it from Page One PIG's Tasty TidBits. But, I found it to be worth a good 'forking.
These pussy-whipped clowns are worse than the Vagina Monolouge screech owls and wet hens that squawked about how men in general sucked because men don't like to cuddle, go to the mall, or spend quality time with their pussy (cats.)
That's to be expected from a whiney "woman," but the following should never be said by a dude.
Scroll down, inform yourself how not to be a whipped wimp, (like somebody I know).
Enjoy and learn. Part of this posting was based on a Real Dude named Hambo.
PICKPOCKETS | MARCH 21, 2011
There's seems to be a big stink emanating from the Cheesehead state of Wisconsin, and Limburger is not the super stinky culprit on a steaming load of steroids.
It smells more like a rat.
It seems as if an awful lot of ungrateful 'Public Sector' emloyees are whining about them having to contribute to not only a little more from THEIR paychecks for THEIR pensions, benefits and and of course, their untouchable and totally union protected, undeserved, inflated salaries, but also their collective bargaining rights, too.
The term 'Unconstitutional' is being used by any/all Public Sector Union members in their quest to take more from the taxpayer, and that includes teachers, correctional officers, tin stars, street cleaners and other bureaucratic bullies. I'm no Constitutional scholar, but I don't think the Framers and Founding Fathers wrote any provisions in the Constitution that green lights a parasital horde - the public sector union members - to make demands upon and pick the pockets of hard working private sector empoyees and employers. I don't think there are any provisions or amendments regarding collective bargaining rights of union workers, either.
Well, the taxpaying (non-union) public and private sector, aka, 'We The People' are being villified, along with Wisconsin governor Scott Walker, because they dare to say 'Fork Off to Public Sector Union members' high priced demands on the public by making budget cuts that include the precious perks and high priced pensions that WE pay for.
When WE THE PEOPLE declare that "We're mad as hell, and we're not going to take it anymore!", well, they stomp their feet like spoiled teenage drama queens and act as if we're taking food off of their tables. The truth is, Public Sector Union Punks are taking food off of OUR tables with their demands that we Fork over our hard earned money to pay their inflated and undeserved salaries, benefits, pensions, etc. and is outright piracy and legalized pickpocketing. Talk about Robin Hood in reverse. These Public Union Thugs are getting fat off of every dime they manage to squeeze from the taxpaying public.
What do WE get in return? A lot, if you like sub-standard, rude service, coupled with miles of red tape, served up by incompetent clock watching, self serving union drones.
Well, this 'Forking goes as such, and this applies to not only to the "It's For The Children" schoolteachers in Wisconsin, but all SEIU drones, ACORN thugs, government workers, correctional officers that don't do squat, to fat lazy Barney Fife type wannabee Tin Stars.
You're a bunch of pious parasites feeding off the host, 'We The People' and without U$, you will whine and snivel yourselves - and us - into poverty.
You claim to serve the public, but your recent activities demonstrate you're only out to serve yourself. If your 'job' depended on performance, merit and achievement rather than tenure or union protection, you would be shitcanned, replaced and out looking for work like millions of others who not only don't have a job, but with that, needless to say, no benefit package or pension as well.
Memo to ungrateful, self serving public union members: Your freeloading, gravy training days may soon be over and you may have to fall in line with the rest of those you pretend to serve.
So, the next time you call in 'sick' to protest the fact that you may have to pony up a few extra dollars for your benefit package and pension - for the children's sake, of course - why don't you 'Fork Off, get the 'Fork out of town and save the taxpayers a few 'Forking dollars in the process?
Remember, you're getting no sympathy here in the 'Forkdom and yes, you CAN be replaced.
For more on Public Sector Union abuse, click here:
P.S. I posted this on behalf of "The Children" that are supposed to be getting educated, but are getting the stinky end of the stick.
BAGPIPING ON THE IRISH | FEBRUARY 12, 2011
It seems as if New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg had nothing better to do recently than to call out the New York's Irish community by, in essence calling them a bunch of sots, and drunks in anticipation of next month's St. Patrick's Day Parade.
He may have done a hit piece on the Irish, but what he said was true.
Irish love to not only drink, a lot, but most have a strong will, love of work, fighting, and hand me my four leaf clover, lucky charms, and Blarney Stone barf bag, but also having very thick skin, usually.
Not in the case of Bloomberg's remarks. It seems as if a hyphenated, hypersensitive Irish-American community organization demanded a Don Imus-type apology, basically, a "Kiss My Ass, I'm Irish" type of explaination from Bloomberg.
This posting of the Forking does not go to Bloomberg, but to New York City's Irish, who I thought had thick enough skin to merely laugh it off and move on, as usual. But not in this case.
Shame on you, Shamus, Sean, Paddy, Colleen, Lassie, Laddie, Murphy, O'Brien, whatever, shut the Fork up! Somene called you out on the truth and you're taking it as an emotional boo-boo.
Right about now, I need O'Hambo to pass me a Guiness, or 12, and say, for shame, you Victimhood bunch of very Un-Irish, crybaby Micks. With your complaints and hypersensivity, you just forced me to consider changing my name to Horowitz, Bloomberg, maybe even Kowalski. Heh, Heh.
So, Fork off with your complaining, Mick's and grow a set of Blarney Stones and get over it.
BRAIN DEAD ZEALOTS | FEBRUARY 09, 2011
*Keeper Of The Fork Note: This posting will be prefaced by a take from the movie, "Oh God!" Here goes:
Jerry Landers, (John Denver) "I don't belong to any church."
God, (George Burns) "Neither do I."
There seems to be a certain brainwashed breed of cyborg's that lurk among us, riding bicycles and wearing short sleeved, white button up shirts, with cheap J.C. Penney neckties that knock on your door, and attempt to peddle their brand of faith upon the unsuspecting.
They pedal their bikes and peddle their brand of Bible Thumping guilt trips, and usually can take a polite no for an answer.
However, there seems to be a little local batallion of brothers...oops, elders around my neck of the woods that don't understand not only what "NO" means, but what "FUCK NO" means in their recruiting/sales tactics when they knock on my door
But Holy Joseph Smith and Brigham Young! Oops. I just did some name dropping didn't I? Oh well, That cat's out of the bag, huh?
Well, that's OK. God Bless them in their missionary quests, those brain dead zombies, but the next time they feel inspired to brainwash, robotize, convert or otherwise ply their sales pitches on me, they get a Forking at my front Forking door.
What further infuriates me and gives Kool-Aiders like them a double Forking with no Vaseline, K-Y or any other sort of personal lubricant is the fact that I know they'll be back. When that time comes, and it will, I'll use the splinter end of the Fork and make a deposit where the sun don't shine.
What makes this Fork-Worthy is that these spiritual, snot nosed Kool-Aid consuming zombies with no worldly experience, come to my front door and tell me that my faith in...whatever, is all wrong and their 'New And Improved' brand of Elmer Gantryism is superior to mine by attempting to sell me on an eternal bliss complete with rainbows, lollipops, candy canes, harp music and unicorns, plus the usual damn guilt trip.
Gee whiz. I thought the assholes that believed the 72 virgins thing was far fetched, and actually, I'll take the 72 virgins, as long they're lined up at my front door, but the particular religious creepy crawlers I mentioned seem to not be able to grasp the word NO.
In short, these robots stepped on the wrong set of toes, but rather than get mad, I'll simply borrow from Clint Eastwood and tell these hacks to Get Off My Forking Lawn.
Over, out and amen, brother's and sister's
BIG BROTHER'S ENFORCERS | JANUARY 07, 2011
Big Brother has apparently been overdosing on steroids in the state of Florida with it's new DUI checkpoint policy of "No Refusal" for any motorist that won't submit to a blood, breath or urine test at law enforcement's Gestapo-Style checkpoints.
Tin Stars are alive and well in a huge Orwellian fashion, with a Barney Fife attitude at these checkpoints, because if you are suspected of driving under influence by a cop, and refuse any of their requested sobriety tests, guess what? Barney Fife is backed up with an 'on location' judge that will sign a search warrant, on the spot, that permits the Tin Stars to invade your body and person by taking your blood to determine if you are driving under the influence.
Don't know about you, but if ANYONE took my blood, or invaded my body against my will, I would throw down the gauntlet and whip out the Fork.
What in the world is happening in the Land Of Liberty when We The People lay down like little lambs ready for slaughter, and surrender and submit to further trampling on our personal freedoms in the form of what could be termed as not only an invasion of privacy, but mental and Constitutional rape?
Don't get me wrong. We're all for keeping dingbats and drunks off the the road, but to mandate a total stranger that just happens to wear a badge to stick a foreign object in your body and take your blood, even if you are shitfaced while driving, is an outright violatation of any American's citizens personal right's.
Gets better. The Keeper Of The Fork predicts that other states will follow suit. But, the better news is, that as individuals, many people who were not hoisting brewskies, but suspected of driving under the influence, yet still were FORCED to submit to an invasion of their body by Big Brother and Barney Fife, will open up the Yellow Pages, find the nearest sharp toothed shyster and file suit and hopefully sue the badges off of those Tin Stars, and rightfully so.
Oh, and guess what, Fife's? Porcus got a brand spanking new Pitchfork for Christmas. It's really neat. It's pretty, primed, shiny and sharp, and christaned for the new year by sticking my New Fork in a part of the body that is a proctologist's worst nightmare, right up Big Brother's anal cavity. With pleasure, too.
Here's a link to a news story, and if your'e a member of the "We The People Club" this one may require an extra large barf bag that accompanies my new Fork.
O COME ALL YE FAITHFUL, TWISTED PIGSTERS | DECEMBER 16, 2010
This Christmas season, all Pitchforking activities towards the usual cretins and creepy crawlers that normally register Fork worthy shall be put on hold, due to Porcus' most merciful kind heart (right) that frankly don't know any better and would normally find themselves on the pages of PIG either getting Hammered by Hambo or Forked by Porcus.
Instead, in the true spirit of the birth of Christ and goodwill toward men and even wannbee men, I, Porcus, put aside my Pitchfork, put on my Santa Claus cap and hereby grant all Fork-Worthy A-Holes a VERY temporary pardon.
Remember, VERY temporary. Tis my gift to the otherwise Fork-Worthy that made my Naughty List.
Now, for those that felt more than a pinch and bite out of their financial asses from our Pirate-In-Chief and have nothing to give, there is one gift you can give. It's called thanks and gratitude.
First, your Creator for giving you the gift of life, liberty and pursuit of happiness here in America and the freedoms bestowed upon you that have not yet been hijacked by Constitution trampling, jack-booted thugs.
Second, and more importantly, and this a heartfelt message from Porcus. You still have the freedom to tune in to PIG's ranting's and raving's and occasional insanity, (enjoy while it lasts) And for that we here in the PIGdom get a gift from our faithful each day throughout the year every time you take time out of your day, usually on your bosses dime, to keep tabs on us.
So, thanks to you, our PIG faithful for your time, contributions, comments and faithfulness to our little cyberspace dartboard and whipping post. Quite a gift we recieve every day when we get feedback from you, the PIG faithful.
Our gift to you is, of course, providing truth, humor, facts and fun throught the next new year, and it's ALWAYS our pleasure to do so.
Now, for those that are burned out on traditional renditions of Christmas tunage, I'll offer this and are of the more unorthodox ilk, the following link is for your enjoyment.
Enjoy and have a Merry, PIG-style Christmas, and most importantly, when you click the link, turn it way up.
If, for some reason that link doesn't shine the balls hanging off your tree, well Fork off and enjoy something a little more traditional, with an extra special, Twisted rendition of The 12 Days Of Christmas.
DIVORCE AGREEMENT | OCTOBER 05 , 2010
JOHN CALLAHAN: 1951 - 2010 | SEPTEMBER 21, 2010
Over the summer while in Portland, Oregon, I happened to pick up a local, somewhat underground, alternative weekly fishwrap which announced the passing of one of the most darkest, and most definitely Incorrect cartoonists of all time, John Callahan.
Not exactly a household name, some of you may recall some of his work, which has appeared in many major publications, Callahan was not your Mommy's caliber cartoonist.
Several things about Callahan made him stand apart from the crowd.
One: The personal obstacles he had overcome in his life to leave his footprint on the world. He was a quadrapalegic and a recovering alcoholic.
Involved in a booze fueled car accident at age 21 that left him in a wheelchair, paralysed, he was able to crank out some crudely drawn, but in your face cartoons by holding his pen with both hands.
Two: In John Callahan's cartoon world, everything, and everyone was fair game. From Smoke Nazi's and Feminazi's to Ethnocrats and Disabled, if you registered on his radar, guess what? Tag! You're it!
Why is this on the Pitchfork? Well, I'll steal a quote from Callahan himself, who spent his lifetime Forking those that deserved it most, especially those claiming to defend the disabled:
“Like me, they are fed up with people who presume to speak for the disabled. All the pity and the patronizing. That’s what is truly detestable.”
If interested in more Callahan fun, visit his official website:
PORCUS GETS POETIC | SEPTEMBER 10, 2010
An Ode To Hambo
Don’t know how it came to be, when we met that fortunate day,
But PIG became the playground where we both could play.
At all the right people, he hurled prose filled bombs and rocks,
To his critics he would shrug his shoulders and say “Whatever rots your socks”
How fortunate was I, to have met this man,
Who can tell you where to stick it like NOBODY can,
If your panties were twisted, perhaps even puddled,
Fear not, whilst reading his prose, your mind will no longer be muddled,
His views have been declared, loud and clear,
Yet when he does so, the voice of reason is so sure to be near,
When you register on his radar, you better beware,
If he’s pissed at you, you don’t want to be THERE,
If you feel neglected for lack of mention,
Never fear, he’ll find a bone of contention.
He’s a funny, patient to a point dude,
But if he comes to your house, lock up your beer and food,
Keep tuning into PIG, where he’s hitting his stride,
And remember, he’s dedicated to PIG with a chest full of pride.
It’s always been my privilege to know this man,
Who has a talent to think, reason and write like nobody can.
And I mean NOBODY.
Thank you for not laughing.
FIRE SAFETY RULES | SEPTEMBER 07, 2010
Gosh darnit! I just heard a pastor in Florida wants to commemorate the 9th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks by having a rally burning Korans.
Burning Korans on 9/11? Cool. Fight fire with fire.
But Jiminy Crickets, has any one considered the potential of a possible fire hazard if that happened.
Did the pastor take the time to contact the local fire department for a public permit?
Probably not, but this being The F.S.O.P. I have a little Pitchfork style solution to assist the local fire fighting battalion.
Once those Korans are torched to high Heaven, or better yet, Hell, my main concern would be the safety of the local community due to the smoke and embers from the pyre.
Solution to extinguish the fire?
Plan A involves a stampede of wild pigs to stomp on those nasty flames on the Koran until the fire is ALMOST out. When that doesn't work, we can have a butcher and barbeque grill ready to slaughter one of the pigs, and sprinkle it's blood on the Koran.
Plan B of the Pitchfork fire safety proposal is a lot more fun, satisfactory, and enjoyable. Since there's a barbeque grill, probably some sudsy adult beverages, and willing participants, folks can gather round the bonfire in a circle, hold hands and take turns in a session of whipping out their business, ladies included, and pissing out the last of the fire.
Practical? Well, in the words of PIG's Executive Editor, "I'm not saying, but I'm just saying."
We normally don't advocate the burning of books, however, in the context of this, we think we can look the other way.
PIGISH TOLERANCE | SEPTEMBER 01, 2010
We as Americans ought to be mighty ashamed of ourselves for not being compassionate enough to the future tenents of the Ground Zero Mosque.
Come on. Let's be good sports about this issue, give them the benifit of the doubt, say what the heck, and let them move in and allow them prove themselves to be good neighbors and true ambassadors of the religion of peace.
And just to show I've got no axe to grind with our new neighbors, I've created a little tribute to the creator of the sick flavor of Kool-Aid they drink.
I really hope this bridges any gaps between us infidels and our goat herding, bomb toting brethren.
Here you go, Mr. Mohammed, you all around good guy, Boy Scout, and gee whiz, the inspiration to so many, well, aw shucks, some of the neatest wannabe pilots in the world.
And just to show what an all-around great guy he is, to illustrate that he is not the one dimensional person he is portayed as, I .humbly offer this little, very PIGish tribute in graphic format.
See, he really is a nifty guy, and so are his mass murdering, myopic, Kool-Aid drinking desciples and brain dead followers.
Hope you liked that little tribute,Mr. Mohammed. I know you've been rotting away in Motel Hell, nice and cozy in your little corner of the crispy zone
Hope that Ground Zero Mosque thing works for you in the very short run, too.
JACKWAGONS/ GROUND ZERO | AUGUST 28, 2010
Like most folks, I view insurance companies with a little bit of contempt, but as a necessary evil.
That said, Geico Insurance has come up with a series of television commercials for their new ad campaign, one of which features Gunnery Sergeant, R. Lee Ermey as a No-shit, in your face therapist who pulls no punches when a wimp comes in and says "...And that's why yellow makes me sad."
Link here:Gunny Commercial
Well, when he went "What is your major malfunction, numbnuts" in that ad, he in essence erased everything the pychobabbler community from Sigmund Freud to Opraholics and all these "release your inner child" junkies have been preaching and trying to sell to vulnerable suckers for years.
That said, hats off to Geico and Gunny for providing some much needed life lessons and Forking the Namy-Pamby's.
And for further amusement, here's a Geico Charlie Daniels ad.
Click here: Charlie Daniels
A lot has been said and will be written and commented on and about the proposed construction of a Ground Zero Mosque.
Well, there is quite a bit of Forking that needs to be done, and no names named, for the approval for this despicable project, that must have fermented in the mind or minds of certain sub humans with and agenda an axe to grind against Americans, and specifally, New Yorkers.
My issue is this. What American bank is bankrolling this load of shit, and what construction company, if American and in faith, would participate in such a slap in the face to Americans. We dare you to show up on the job for that.
In the words of Clint Eastwood, "Go ahead, make my day." by virtue of showing up, Mr. Construction Worker, which is going to be predictably the sentiment of many Americans.
But wait! Shit, how could I forget! Obama has given his two shit stained thumbs up on the whole deal, so we as Americans have nothing to worry about. And don't worry about labor costs, because after all, with our highly ignored open borders, all kinds of Chico's, Taco's and Lupes will be willing participants to take American dollars to contribute to a slap in our face.
Well, said my piece, but parting shot, if I ever find myself in New York City, and witness this travesty, I know how to play with matches, creatively, and have lots of friends that sure would't mind attenting a fireworks show in New York City.
LOADED QUESTIONS | MAY 23, 2010
Remember the big stink last year when Miss California Carrie Prejean was asked by pageant judge, GLAAD-BAG Gossip Queen Perez Hilton (an alleged dude) about legalizing same sex marriage?
Perez asked: "Vermont recently became the fourth state to legalize same-sex marriage, do you think every state should follow suit, why or why not."
Prejean replied: "I think it's great Americans are able to choose one or the other," she said. "We live in a land that you can choose same-sex marriage or opposite marriage. And you know what in my country, in my family I think that I believe that a marriage should be between a man and a woman. No offense to anybody there, but that's how I was raised and that's how I think it should be, between a man and a woman."
Hey, the fairy princess judge asked, Prejean answered, intelligently and honestly, but for some reason, that answer vilified her as she received a smattering of boos.
Fast forward to this year's loaded hot button question which went to first runner-up, Miss Oklahoma Morgan Woolard who was asked about Arizona's immigration law.
Her reply was, "I'm a huge believer in states' rights. I think that's what's so wonderful about America. So I think it's perfectly fine for Arizona to create that law."
Talk about a no-win situation. Her answer probably cost her the title due to the fact that the judges picked such a polarizing question that regardless of her answer, spells self-elimination.
This year’s winner, Miss Michigan and former Pole Dancing Champion Rima Fakih, however - a Lebanese immigrant who considers herself both Muslim and Christian and went to Catholic school - (WTF is that?) was asked a less divisive question: "Should birth control be covered by health insurance?"
"Yes, because it's so expensive. I believe that birth control is just like every other medication even though it's a controlled substance."
Birth control a 'controlled substance?' I always thought that a controlled substance was what you scored from Chuey down on the street corner for recreational purposes.
Where's the outrage from the Catholic Cabal over birth control?
And why aren't the Jihadists up in arms asking "What the hell is a 'proper' Muslim/Arab girl doing parading around in a bikini in front of millions of Infidels in the first place?!?"
Regardless, she gets the free pass despite the inanity of her answer, and more than likely, her Arab/Muslim identity combined with the answer given by Miss Oklahoma sealed her victory.
Does anyone else sense that there are politics at play, or even worse, political correctness or affirmative action inflicting itself upon beauty pageant contestants with cherry picked questions designed for certain contestants to seal their doom and ultimate loss, no matter what the answer?
If the question to Miss Oklahoma regarding Arizona's immigration law is fair game, and affirmative action and political correctness is all about 'level playing fields' why not play hard ball with everyone, including Pole Dancer, Rima Fakih?
Why not ask her about Jihadists, Hezbollah, Hamas or suicide bombers? After all, she ought to know more about that than us infidels, her being of an Arab and Muslim background.
How about that 72 virgins thing? If she were to die today, would SHE be a virgin and who would she prefer to service for all of eternity?
Would she approve of the proposed Monster Mosque to being built right next to 9-11 Ground Zero?
How about that pole dancing gig, Rima, or better yet, that independent film you appeared in called 'Throbbing Justice'? Was that for world peace?
Don't you miss the good old days and Golden Age of beauty pageants when after strutting their stuff and showing off their goodies, the contestants were asked third grade questions and gave third grade answers like Caitlin Upton, Miss Teen South Carolina in the 2007 Miss Teen USA pageant:
My beef isn't with Miss USA Rima Fakih, although I do wonder and am suspect as to where her allegiances lie, but it's the judging criteria that needs a good 'Forking.
Beauty pageants are just that. They are designed to showcase a contestant's physical hotness, as well as her other talents and ambitions, and not to be used as a politcal forum on hot button issues by putting these ladies in the hot seat by grilling them with potential powder keg questions.
I'm not saying that most of these ladies can't defend their personal postions on issues in an articulate manner, but their answers to any question, whether the answer they give is popular or not, is usually an indicator of who wins and who loses based on the prevailing politically correct climate.
If the Q & A segment of judging is going to be conducted with a Senate sub-committee hearing or Spanish Inquisition lose/lose slant, why not just eliminate those deemed not worthy by weeding them out with the following, self-incriminating question, after swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth:
"Have you now, or have you ever been associated with anyone involved in a publication that refers to itself as The Free State Of PIG? If so, what was the nature of that association?"
If the contestant answers with even the slightest hint of incorrectness (as in the case of Miss Oklahoma) that goes hand in hand with independence, individuality, enterprise or free thought, well, the good news is, she can kiss that Miss (Politically Correct) USA crown goodbye.
The better news is that she showed her true colors, didn't sell out and will forever be an honorary PIGal!
A TECHNO-DOOF ON WHIZ BANG WIZARDRY | APRIL 28, 2010
With all the technical accessories, trends and gizmo's out there, do you ever feel like a fish out of water, like almost all the time, simply because you're not up on the latest high tech toys or gizmo's?
How about feeling like you're living in a time warp?
Well, I do, every day.
See, being the fossil that I am, I'm not what one would call "with it" when it comes to any fly-by night, flavor-of-the-month trend.
I've always been so far behind whatever "the latest" is, I didn't even see Star Wars until 1996.
For example, I must be the only person that goes to Starbucks and gets stared at for A) Not looking like Art Garfunkel, and B), Not having what seems to be standard Starbucks issue...a laptop. That, plus the fact that I only order a regular coffee instead of a triple mocha latte with imported cinnamon sprinkles and all the other damn zoo-zoo's and wham-whams.
I also may not be up to speed because I don't own a Blue Tooth, nor do I get what Blu-Ray is, but I do know what a Ray-Ray is.
A Ray-Ray is a fixture in a lot of 'hoods. He's that dude with the gold tooth, pants hanging down to his knees and enough bling to choke a dinosaur. He's also been know to not be employed and is a fixture on the street corner 24/7, networking with his peeps with the latest soon-to-be obsolete iphone.
I also may not have a clue about Blackberry's, but the world seems full of Dingleberry's
Also, it seems like everyone except for me, (and most definitely Hambo), don't "get it" when it comes to Twitter. What the hell is that anyway, some sort of nervous condition that causes the user to uncontrollably twitter, twitch and tweak until useless text messages are relayed to other twitterers, twitchers or tweakers?
PIGsters, I'm not a total knuckle dragger in today's digital age because I don't get Twitter, but guess what?
I still get Twat.
Can you hear me now?
HAPPY MARCH 17th DAY | MARCH 17, 2010
An Irishman is never drunk as long as he can hold onto one blade of grass to keep from falling off the earth. - Irish Saying
It goes without saying that St. Patrick's Day goes hand in hand with parades, corned beef and cabbage, wearing of the green, and partying 'til you puke.
In the past, I have been a bit strident about St. Paddy's Day being the one day of the year when everyone wants to be Irish. I guess the same can't be said for Martin Luther King, Jr. or Cesar Chavez Day, when not everyone wants to be, well, you know...
This year, I'll lighten up and provide the McFaithful with some Irish humor I've lifted from other sources.
Oh, and don't call me from your local drunk tank to bail you out. Chances are, I'll be in one meself.
So, just to play along, I'll (in good humor) further perpeturate the stereotypical Irish as the hard drinking, happy-go-lucky, comical charmers that they are.
May the gas you pass the day after St. Pat's Day be filled with the fresh scent of crisp cabbage, corned beef, and a nice warm Guinness.
Two Irishmen, Patrick Murphy and Shawn O'Brian grew up together and were lifelong friends. But alas, Patrick developed cancer, and was dying. While on his deathbed, Patrick called to his buddy, Shawn, "O'Brian, come 'ere. I 'ave a request for ye." Shawn walked to his friend's bedside and kneels.
Myth: Shamrocks are associated with the holiday because St. Patrick used them as a teaching tool for the pagan Celts he converted to Christianity. The Shamrock's 3 leaves symbolize the holy Trinity.
O'Connell was staggering home with a pint of booze in his back pocket when he slipped and fell heavily. Struggling to his feet, he felt something wet running down his leg. "Please, God," he implored, "let it be blood!"
Myth: "Luck of the Irish" refers to the abundance of Good Fortune long enjoyed by the Irish.
An Irishman went for an interview with one of the major blue chip computer companies. When the interview was over the interviewer told him that all applicants had to complete a test.
The interviewer took a piece of paper and drew six vertical lines in pairs of two on the paper and placed it in front of the Irishman.
"Could you please show me a clever way to make this into nine?"
After thinking for a while the Irishman took the pencil and drew a canopy of leaves on top of the three pairs of lines, and handed the paper back to the interviewer.
The interviewer looked at the drawings and said: "But that is not nine!" "Oh yes it is", said the Irishman with a broad Irish accent, "Tree + Tree + Tree make nine!"
The interviewer handed the paper back to the Irishman and asked him to make it 99. After thinking for a longer while the Irishman scribbled up and down the trunks and handed the paper back to the interviewer. The interviewer looked at the drawings and said:
"But that is not ninety nine!" "Oh yes it is", said the Irishman, "Dirty tree + dirty tree + dirty tree make ninety nine."
The interviewer was now a bit cheesed off so he decided to do the Irishman once and for all, therefore, he handed the paper back to the Irishman and asked him to make it 100.
After thinking for a considerably longer time the Irishman suddenly grabbed the pencil and drew a little blop on the bottom right hand side of each three and handed the paper back to the interviewer.
The interviewer looked at the drawings and said: "But that is not 100!"
"Oh yes it most certainly is", said the Irishman with a much broader Irish accent, "Dirty tree and a turd + dirty tree and turd + dirty tree and a turd make 100!!!!!"
Myth: St. Patrick's Day is a lot of fun with parades and games and merriment.
On Saint Patrick's Day, an Irishman who had a little to much to drink was driving home from the city and his car was weaving violently all over the road. A cop pulled him over.
"So," said the cop to the driver, "Where have you been?"
"Why, I've been to the pub of course," slurs the drunk.
"Well," says the cop, "it looks like you've had quite a few to drink this evening."
"I did all right," the drunk says with a smile.
"Did you know," says the cop, standing straight and folding his arms across his chest, "that a few intersections back, your wife fell out of your car?"
"Oh, thank heavens," sighs the drunk. "For a minute there, I thought I'd gone deaf."
Myth: Green is the official color of St. Patrick's Day because it's the color of spring, shamrocks and fertility.
Padraic Flaherty came home drunk every evening toward ten. Now, the Missus was never too happy about it, either.
So one night sh hides in the cemetery and figures to scare the beejeezus out of him. As poor Pat wanders by, up from behind a tombstone she jumps in a red devil costume screaming, "Padraic Sean Flaherty, sure and ya' don't give up you're drinkin' and it's to Hell I'll take ye'".
Pat, undaunted, staggered back and demanded, "Who the hell ARE you?".
Too that the Missus replied, "I'm the divil ya' damned old fool".
To which Flaherty remarked, "Damned glad to meet you sir, I'm married to yer sister."
Myth: The Irish are the world's most poetic people.
Murphy told Quinn that his wife was driving him to drink. Quinn thinks he's very lucky because his own wife makes him walk.
Myth: Many young women think St. Patrick’s Day is a time to get drunk and experiment by kissing another girl in public.
NOTE: Guys who make it into Heaven are allowed to visit Lesbian Hell to watch.
"O'Ryan," asked the druggist, "did that mudpack I gave you improve your wife's appearance?"
"It did surely," replied O'Ryan, "but it keeps fallin' off!"
This St. Patrick's Day posting wouldn't be complete without some Irish Limericks
On the t*ts of a barmaid named Gayle,
Were tattooed prices of beer, stout, and Ale,
And on her behind,
For the sake of the blind,
Was precisely the same, but in Braille.
There was a young lady from Brewster
Who's ass was so nice that I goosed her,
But her panties were thin
And my finger slipped in
And it still just don't smell like it used ter.
There was a young man named Dave
Who kept a dead whore in a cave.
Said he, "I'll admit
She does smell a bit,
But look at the money I save!"
There once was a woman from Hunt
Who smoked a cigar with her c***
As part of the show
T’was really one hell of a stunt!
In the garden of Eden sat Adam,
Massaging the bust of his madam,
He chuckled with mirth,
For he knew that on earth,
There were only two boobs and he had 'em.
A dentist, young Doctor Malone,
Got a charming girl patient alone,
And in his depravity
He filled the wrong cavity
And my how his practice has grown!
There was a young man from New Haven,
Who had an affair with a raven.
He said with a grin,
As he wiped off his chin,
She sure was in need to be shaven.
A large-organed female in Dallas,
Was virgo intacto,
Because, ipso facto,
No phallus in Dallas fit Alice
That's all for this St. Patrick's Day McPIGsters, and if, after reading all this you still think it's grand and glorious to be Irish even for a day, well join the club!
PIGGING OUT | MARCH 02, 2010
Six years ago, March 1st, 2004, the world was introduced to the loose cannons that unleashed upon cyberspace, with great fury and vengeance, The Free State Of PIG.
That’s right PIGsters, roll out the barrels, it’s our birthday, and as usual, I'm late for my own self-celebratory festivities.
We didn’t really come out of the closet to declare our incorrectness, more like out of the shadows where we had been lurking, planning and plotting our unique brand of skewering the status quo.
Our objective was to critique, humiliate, lampoon and stigmatize those zealous (ex) individuals, institutions and organizations that seek to impose their Cultural Marxism on sovereign individuals.
That said, we decided to toss our hat in the ring by nailing with ease, the huge bullseye that the Krusading Korrectnik Kool-Aid Krew, Liberals, Ethnocrats, Gendercrats, Educrats, Colonistas, Media Meatheads and other assorted smarty pants, loudmouths and zombies placed upon themselves by hitting that target accurately with what is so sorely lacking in their miserable little world: Truth, Humor, Facts and Fun!
And Fun we have had! Woo-woo!!!
For those not familiar with our humble beginnings, here’s a brief history of PIG’s conception, birth and development...again.
I mention this every so often and even further down on this page for the sake of those new to The Free State Of PIG, so bear with me, Old Timers.
Conception: In 1993, as a very disillusioned and pissed off recent college grad, I took a whiff of the world around me and the pungency made me puke.
I had attended an extremely left-wing, political correctness on steroids art school where manufactured "sensitivity" and "awareness" to fly-by-night causes were more of a prerequisite to training and talent development.
I graduated during and very close to ground zero of the L.A. riots and was armed with a portfolio chock full of anger, attitude and incorrectness. My illustrations were definitely not fit for Better Homes and Gardens, The L.A. Times, Rolling Stone or any other traditional or mainstrean publication.
After shopping my portfolio around and getting rejected at every turn, I thought that somewhere, there must be a venue for the attitude I was trying to convey.
Out of frustration and a "Fuck it, I'll show them" attitude, I created a business card (pictured) showcasing my editorially and offbeat graphics and illustrations, naturally calling my new venture PIG: Politically Incorrect Graphics.
Then it hit me. Why stop with just graphics? There's no way I'm the only one with an incorrect attitude.
Then, the epiphany!!! Why not create a publication for like-minded individuals as forum to that would feature not only graphics, but articles, essays and editorials reflecting a politically incorrect bent.
As I got busy formulating an anti-status quo publication based on my business card, what do I call this “I’m Mad As Hell” publication?
I looked at the card, scratched my head and Oink-Ola! PIG: The Politically Incorrect Gazette.
Now I needed content and the right kind of help to assist in his venture.
After searching high and low for someone that met my criteria, fate stepped in, and along came a dude we’ll call Hambo.
The stars were in alignment when we met. Our attitudes and ideas were mutual we and began the long process of molding PIG into what it is today.
Birth: PIG was initially going to be geared for print, as the internet was in it's infancy at the time. I had to step aside for several years as life crept in and wouldn’t afford me the time needed to tend to PIG in a proper manner.
Hambo and I got back together in 2001 and dove headfirst into the development of PIG.
After much work and donuts, the final, initial version of PIG made it’s presence known on March 1st, 2004, our birthday.
Immediately upon launching the site, I emailed several friends and family members and 20 minutes later got a call from PIGster #1, we'll call him J-Cro.
His initial reaction, after laughing hard at the satirical points and even harder at the serious points, was that he got it. That was an indication that we've succeeded in striking a chord with those for whom political correctness made them puke.
Development: We haven't strayed too far from our original design, editorial policy or mission.
We can proudly say we haven't jumped the shark, nor will we ever sellout our core tenets.
We have added and expanded much more material over the past 6 years, and our bottom line is that PIG is, and always will be a work in progress.
We have clinged to the base notion that PIG is a forum for ANYONE, regardless of race, creed, color, age, ethnicity, country of origin, sex, tribe, religious beliefs, credit rating, political affiliations, criminal background, shoe size, hair color, cholesterol count, IQ, or socioeconomic level, who will one day, somehow, someway, be affected, offended, censored, angered, alienated, disgusted or amused by Political Correctness.
We have encouraged folks to send us their two-cents worth for posting and some have, on an ongoing, even daily basis.
Not wanting to preach to the choir, we will always welcome those that vehemently disagree with us as well. Wanna know why? So we can bag 'em and tag 'em.
Just to show how truely tolerant we are, we have never, nor will we ever ban or blacklist anyone from the Free State Of PIG based on their opinion, political affiliations, religious beliefs, blah, blah, blah.
In all seriousness, your most modest publisher is deeply grateful for the time you all take to visit us here at The Free State Of PIG. On behalf of Hambo & Staff, we give major PIG props to our readers - past, present and future - for playing with us these last six years and hope you'll stick around for our seventh year.
Party time is over. It's time to roll up our sleeves and begin work on Year Seven.
MILESTONES | FEBRUARY 03, 2010
That's 1,000,000 for the MONTH, PIGsters. Please don't make me go Glenn Beck on you with charts and chalkboards by explaining how this was destined to happen with projections and predictions and internet trends and blah, blah, blabbity blah.
Are we doing cartwheels over this news? No, as our work is not, and never will be done. We may however, hoist a cold one and pat ourselves on the back.
We don't know when that magic moment came nor do we know who the person is that helped us reach that pinnacle for the month, but we have a sneaking hunch it was somebody using the bosses time and computer.
Unfortunately, there was no fanfare, bells, sirens or whistles for that individual. However, there is a great reward waiting for that person and that prize can be claimed each and every day simply by tuning in to PIG and taking notes. That goes for the entire PIGdome, too.
What took us so long? We had a "If you build it, they will come" philosophy by letting nature, the internet and word of mouth take it's course.
We knew we would leave our mark not just online, but well after you've logged off your computer.
We are not going to go "Aw shucks" and neither are we going to go Tarzan and pound our chests and rest on our laurels, as we have much work ahead of us.
Instead, we will express our profound gratitude to our readers the only way we know - by continuing to provide you with our unique brand of Truth, Humor, Facts and Fun on a daily basis.
Thank you for playing with us and we hope to see much more of you in the future.
P.S. You have to admit, we are pretty bad-ass, huh?
HUGE LOADS | JANUARY 24, 2010
Yesterday afternoon my Mrs. took on the chore of preparing some crockpot culinary cuisine. And it was good. For a while.
Her culture and diet includes real he-man doses of extremely hot, raw and chest hair peeling chili's, including seranos, jalepenos, and habaneros.
It smelled great and dumbass, numbnuts, me, walked over to the kitchen after the wife warned me not to, as the peppers were still on the raw side.
Wannabe lumberjacks like me don't need to be told what to eat, and when. So I proceeded to help myself to a healthy hot plate, against my wife's warnings.
I ate the entire plate in front of her, wiped my mouth with my sleeve as my wife cautioned me that I'm going end up in much pain later, as she said she wasn't finished and the peppers weren't fully cooked.
Settling in for what I thought was going to be a most productive evening of TV watching and chips and dip, I was rudely reminded of what a powerful punch those chili's have on the human digestive system.
Nature sure wan't whispering sweet nothings in my ear, and it wasn't calling either. It was screaming for the bathroom, and God help anyone or thing that had the misfortune of being in my way.
Caution: The following information may be too explicit for those with weak stomachs.
At last count and numerous trips to the bathroom, in the time span of two and a half hours, the steaming load count went as follows:
2 Obama's (Supersized and extra stinky, of course)
Half a Harry Reid
One huge John Edwards
A rectum reaming Nancy Pelosi, complete with cold sweats
Had to make yet another return trip which I'll call the Barney Frank Midnight Run which for some reason had a very annoying lisping sound.
And for my encore and curtain call, the last one I couldn't decide to name it either Michelle or John Kerry. They both kept circling the drain so fast it made my head spin, thus inducing a vomitting episode, which was the fun part.
In those healthy and hearty chunks that got upchucked, I swear I saw the last of Ted Kennedy's legacy, some traces of Al Franken, Al Gore and in some puple liquid mass that looked like Kool-Aid, I saw Sean Hannity's face, too.
I recovered just fine, and thanks loads for asking about my culinary episode.
Oh shit! I forgot to mention 2010 is mid-term election time.
PROFILING: PITCHFORK STYLE | JANUARY 09, 2010
|Do we need any more proof than the recent Fruit Of Ka-Boom terrorist attempt to blow up Detroit bound Flight 253 to implement a system of profiling potential terrorists? Duh! Ya think?
Are these recent incidents cases of "What we have here is a failure to communicate"? You bet. As a matter of fact, going back to Pre-9/11, that's what we've had...a failure on the federal and international level to communicate and share sensitive information with each other.
Predictably, the usual Talking Heads Gas Bags, Hot-Aired Political Hacks and other Monday Morning Quarterbacks will spend weeks, months analyzing these incidents and asking, "How did this happen?" "How can we prevent this from happening again?"
Guess what? While the "experts'" attention is being diverted dissecting, analyzing, interpreting and talking about the most recent incident, Terror Scum is busy plotting yet another twisted attack in some other fashion in the near future.
When the hell are assholes like Homeland Stupidity's Janet Napolitano going to wake up and realize that these incidents are not "Man Made Disasters" but ongoing, never ending attempted acts of terror conducted by America hating cockroaches?
The time for talking, head scratching and finger pointing is way over, and the time to take pro-active, profiling measures is way overdue. It's high time to stop harassing honest law abiding airline passengers and focus on the problem. We don't mean putting anyone wielding nail clippers or too much hair gel on some Mickey Mouse watch list, either.
Drastic times call for nothing short of drastic, preventative measures.We're talking about profiling, at least to start with.
Profiling: First, profiling by itself is not a drastic measure, but the word and practice of "profiling" is such a dirty word to some as it conjures up images of racist, rouge cops singling out suspects based on skin color. I don't have a problem with that, especially if it means cleaning up the 'Hood, or in this case, airports.
Naturally, the ACLU and especially those being targeted (Radical Muslim Extremists, Terrorists and other scum) contend profiling is a violation of one's civil liberties and might cause some psychological and emotional boo-boo's. Tough toenail clippers. When it comes to potential threats, an emotional ding to one's delicate psyche by getting profiled is nothing compared to scraping up scattered body parts strewn across our fruited plains.
How is it that America went from taking in "...huddled masses yearning to breathe free" to becoming a dumpster for other countries to dispose of their riff-raff, undesirables, incorrigables and other malcontents, including terrorists?
There are many answers to that question, but in the context of deterring terrorist plots, we can add lack of screening and/or profiling to that list.
The first thing to do is determine who gets profiled and seperate the humans from the suspected sub-humans and we can begin with the obvious. Jihadikaze Extremists and apologists for the "Religion Of Peace."
Discrimminatory, shoot first, ask questions later system of screening aimed at...Muslims?
Well, since the Amish, the Girls Scouts, AARP, Good Samaritans and even Jehovah's Witnesses really haven't posed any threats to airline safety, why not Mecca Maniacs?
Since Homeland Stupidity is too weak, wimpy and politically correct to single out suspected terrorists at their level and actually do anything about it, The Pitchfork proposes an "unofficial" screening and profiling program called:
Operation: SCROTUM will replace the screening methods currently used by the incompetents running the TSA, and making the airline travel experience as unpleasant as possible for terrorist scum as it already is for the rest of us.
Operation: SCROTUM profiling criteria. If an individual falls into certain categories, such as an unpronouncable name, religion, country of origin, point of departure and destination, method of payment, mental health, is he/she bellowing "Allah Akbar!" and frightening other passengers, and how many goats, wives and RPG's he owns, he goes to the top of the unofficial SCROTUM "Shit List."
Unfortunately, the airlines won't implement an official "Shit List Profiling Policy" due to the anticipated avalanche of lawsuits and negative publicity. BUT who's to stop the airlines from probing, prodding and pitchforking suspected terrorists into "special consideration" status whether they're on a "Travel Shit List" or not, by using discretionary safety measures to weed out terrorists with a wink, wink and a nudge, nudge?
If the current TSA heightened security measures are good enough for the proverbial "87 Year-Old-Granny" and the "8-Year Old Freckle Faced Kid" it's good enough for everyone. However, Operation SCROTUM is not a one-size-fits-all, cookie cutter method of screening and profiling. It's basically a more specific, intrusive and intimate system of weeding out potential and real Jihadists and it works like this.
Upon entering terminal, everyone, no matter who you are, from high profile Pop Tarts and Political Hacks to Joe Six-Pack and yes, even YOU Ali Baba gets the obligatory once over after standing in line and growing old and collecting cobwebs for an eternity.
Once the preliminary screenings have been conducted, the real fun begins.
Using common sense, SCROTUM screeners (see picture, above) will then have the task of seperating the honest, law abiding travelers from those that may have raised some red flags either by their demeanor, mannerisms, behavior or fitting SCROTUM's profile.
Should all people with names like Muhammed, Achmed, Habib, Hussien, etc. be given "special" treatment? Yes, and HELL YES! As a matter of fact, why not have high profile Muslims and people with Muslim names "volunteer" for full body strip/cavity searches just to demonstrate they have nothing to hide.
Those that come to mind are Kareem Abdul-Jabber, Yousef Islam (formerly Cat Stevens), Muhammed Ali, and hell, even Paula Abdul. We can even have members of CAIR get in line for some rubber glove love treatment, too.
Don't think that SCROTUM doesn't realize that the terrorists already know that while the generic, garden variety terrorist straight out of central casting camel crap will be profiled, they will be cleverly trying to slip a few unconventional types that don't fit the typical terrorist mold past us. For that, we have the "Cockroach Culture Shock" test. Guaranteed to make any Muslim Extremist squirm, exposing their potential terrorist intentions, if they don't go postal first.
Have you ever noticed how cockroaches scatter and crawl under the nearest dark space when exposed to light? That's the principle behind the Cockroach test.
Since many airline passengers are already at a heightened level of discomfort, why not spread the misery all around, especially to wannabe Jihadikaze terrorists?
First, if you want to really make wannabe terrorists squirm, have a female infidel SCROTUM Screener conduct the strip/cavity search, wearing a wet Official PIG T-Shirt. Conversely, have a male SCROTUM Screener do the same to anyone wearing a burka.
Once on-board, passengers will be welcomed by their Jewish, Israeli, female or any Uzi toting Infidel pilot, crew and flight attendants. Bullets for the Uzi's made in Israel, too.
Next, there's the in-flight entertainment: 10 minute cartoon shorts featuring Porky Pig, followed by the main attractions, choice of either Babe: Pig In The City, or any Muppet Movie featuring Miss Piggy.
For dining consideration, a menu consisting of pork and beans, hot dogs, pork chops, pastrami and/or ham sandwiches, pigs in blankets, chicharrones, ham and eggs, pork rinds, pig's feet and anything else that once communicated with oinks and grunts.
If you're carrying a laptop on board, make PIG: The Politically Incorrect Gazette your homepage, and pass it on to your fellow passengers, assuring that any wannabe terrorist sees it on your screen.
Just to show what all-inclusive good sports we are, Muslims, Arabs and Africans are not being exclusively singled out. Indonesians, Phillipinos, those from Northern Ireland and even homegrown America Haters are also on the SCROTUM radar.
There will never be a fool-proof, terrorist proof system, but the morons at TSA seem to have it all backwards. Instead of doing their assigned task of screening innocent travelers who are light years from fitting any terrorist profile, the TSA lumps seem to be busy going out of their way with an empty Dog and Pony Shakedown Show to harrass, and in some cases abuse their "power" and the travelers they are supposed to "protect."
Enter The SCROTUM Screeners. SCROTUM Screeners will have at their disposal the full-body imaging system, but it's not what you think it's for. Sure, those that qualify for secondary screening will be subject to more intimate security measures, but in order to keep morale high on an extremely boring job, SCROTUM will have monthly incentive plans based on performance reviews for SCROTUM Screeners.
Whoever rates highest, gets the honors of conducting full body imaging and pat downs of Pam Anderson, Angelina Jolie and other hotness for a month. No doubt SCROTUM will have it's share of bad apples who will be offering full body images of high profile hotties to the highest bidders and will be dealt with accordingly by being assigned the glorious task of imaging, cavity searching and frisking SCROTUM Rejects, i.e., those resembling camel jockey's, goats and Rosie O'Donnell.
Instead of being on hyper-paranoid alert, whatever you do, don't stop flying. Use common sense and just go about your own business. Stay vigilant. Act as an Army Of One. Arm yourself with an Official PIG T-Shirt. Protect yourself and those around you and be on the lookout for anyone that walks, talks, shits, smells or sounds like a terrorist, and if the boot fits...lace it up and give 'em a swift kick into 72 Ugly Virgin Land.
Above all, DO NOT rely on TSA Twerps for you or your families security. They didn't exactly trade in lucrative or rewarding careers to be on the lookout for those wearing suspicious skivvies.
I'ts a sad day for America and a great day for Big Brother when we have to resort to forfeiting our privacy for the sake of safely making it home for the holidays, to a business meeting or vacation.
So, PIGsters, since the unavoidable invasion of privacy is going to happen unless a massive overhaul of screening and profiling procedures is put into place, and you're ready to assume the current TSA and Homeland Stupidity position, all that needs to be said is...
Ready! Set! Bend Over!
QUESTIONS | OCTOBER 11, 2009
Giving most PIGster's the benefit of the doubt, and assuming our reader's are astute and on top of stuff and the junk that we do here at F.S.O.P., we already know you've read about Obama's Nobel Peace prize award.
That said, I would strongly urge you to check Hambo's Hammer for this evening's latest post.
It deals with "intentions" and the results of "good intentions."
Using POTUS as an example, and the Norwegian Nobel Committee as the enablers to feed an already leviathan POTUS ego, Hambo, who does his homework, pulled some great examples of international ass-kissing by the Nobel Committee.
I won't paraphrase PIG's Resident Philosopher and Scribe, Hambo, but he omitted several points I would like to cover here.
First, the theme of his posting was, as usual, right on.
However, your part-time straight jacket wearing Publisher has some burning questions myself for the Nobel Committee.
Question # 1: Did that committee look at Obama's "accomplishments?"
Doubtful. Truth is, there are none PIG worthy.
Question # 2: How many knee pads did he and his personal lobbyists wear out in order to get this now, diluted award?
Probably, a lot.
Question # 3: Was it his pirating, pickpocketing and hijacking of the American way, in order to appease his Socialist, Euro friends in an act of appeasement that got him the award?
Probably won some favors.
Question # 4: Was it his International Apology, and Hope and Change Tour that influenced the committee?
Scored points, I'm sure.
Question # 5: Are the Norwegians throwing this back in the Dane's face for humiliating a Messiah in His Own Mind in His quest for an Olympic bid?
Question # 6: What kind of crack cocaine do they smoke in Norway?
Whatever the case or requirements are, the standards have just been lowered to a gutter level.
Hey, if once esteemed awards are now being tossed about like cheap confetti to those that accomplished nothing, except for talking, hijacking, lying, traveling on our dime while doing nothing, so freaking be it.
The Pitchfork would like to enter The F.S.O.P. in a new catagory for consideration for the Nobel Prize.The cure for stupidity.
Simply tune in on a daily basis to PIG, and watch in amazement as you transform from a once, brain dead zombie, into a free thinking individual, but since you're smart enough to be here, you can help lobby, nominate or petition The F.S.O.P. to the Nobel Committee.
It's not that we need international Euro approval. The cash award would put a Ferrari in one Publisher's garage, and since I split the money with my Executive Editor, well, knowing him, that would would keep him up to his eyeballs in donuts, pizza and beer.
One more thing Porcus picked up on the announcement of Mr. Messiah's award. A great quote from Time.com.
"By now there are surely more callouses on his lips than his hands." - Nancy Gibbs, Time.com
CROSSING THE LINE | OCTOBER 07, 2009
This just came to Porcus' attention and is a sign of Hollywood's Apocalypse and demise.
It's also outright blasphemous and has Porcus way pissed and insulted.
What is it? A Three Stooges movie starring...hold on to your hacksaws Shemp, Jim Carrey as Curly. Barf.
Sean Penn as Larry. Pass the rat poison, and make mine a double. Actually, pass mine over to Mr. Penn, courtesy of The 'Fork.
Benicio Del Toro as Moe. Smelling salts, please.
MGM will be the studio in charge of production and distribution. The "critically acclaimed" Farelly Brothers will be directing.
Well, I guess since "critically acclaimed" empty headed actor's and director's are in on the greatest cinematic insult to comedic genius, one has to assume the "critics" assessment will be a kiss ass, four star, two thumbs up review.
Porcus O'Film Reviewer has different, pre-screening opinions.
The issue isn't the choice of the airhead actors chosen to portray our beloved Moe, Larry and Curly. It's a matter of Hollywood lacking any creativity by piggybacking off the Holy Grail Bearers of comedy, and not having one shred of originality to create anything original on their own.
So what do overpaid Hollywood Hack artists do? Lazily produce a predictable piece of crap with high priced "actors."
My review, without even seeing this fiasco, goes as such: You leave genius alone. Period.
Would you, or anyone hire a spray paint can toting grafitti vandal named "Lil Puppet" from the East L.A. Barrio to restore Michaelangelo's painting of the Cistine Chapel?
Would you consider an inner city youth that wants to "express" himself with a switchblade, pants down to his, or it's knees, and a bucket of paint from the hardware store to come within 100 yards of the Mona Lisa?
This is what Porcus came across. Warning: due to the graphic nature of the image below, true Stooge believers may want to stop here.
Hollywood can always use a good 'Forking for continually lowering it's standards and I hope I did my part by bringing this to your attention.
Mr. Penn, Mr. Del Toro, Mr. Carrey, you might reconsider this project, because when the day comes when you reach the Pearly Gates, Saint Peter might be on a smoke break and have Moe, Larry, Curly and Shemp standing guard waiting for you.
Porcus' thoughts and prayers are in order for the spirit of The REAL Stooges whose legacy will be raped, cheapened, diluted and denegrated with this insult.
Nyuk, Nyuk, Nyuk.
DUMPED IN DENMARK | OCTOBER 03, 2009
Is this going to be a hit piece?
You bet, and Porcus is doing cartwheels at the International Olympic Commitee's decision to rub Messiah & Co.'s nose in some humble pie.
Obama, with his fair weather "I like America when I feel like it" wife, with that underbite that resembles an orangutan, and Oprah, made a plea to the International Olympic Commitee LOST and were left in the dust in their quest to have Chicago host the 2016 Olympics.
Gee, is this proof that the annointed one and his posse carry no clout overseas, or does the international community see something that the American Zombies that elected it are in denial about?
Probably, but not the case.
The 2016 host city was awarded to Rio De Janeiro.
While there was a deafening silence among Chicagoans upon the decision, Brazilians were ecstatic about the announcement.
Don't misread me. I'm as patriotic as anyone reading this, and am truely heartbroken for the hardworking people of Chicago. But, guess what. The wrong people were sent to bid for those Olympic Commitee's favors. And those that failed have to return to the country they hate, America, and hang their heads in shame.
A Marxist dunce, his primate looking wife and an on again, off again pachyderm were sent as ambassadors to Denmark to represent the United States.
That's a WTF! moment.
Someone needs to put a dunce cap on Barry, exile him to Marxist Island where his ball dropping comrades can coddle and idolize him.
Obama & Co.earned no feather in his cap, no notches on his belt this time, as the Zombies fell silent and got even number than they were on election day. Obama flamed out with his face in the dirt, and here at the 'Fork, and that's why this a hit piece.
Obama, why did you blow chunks on foreign soil AGAIN? Was it because you didn't bow down to pissants and aplogize for America's right to defend ourself?
Wait. I bet you forgot your trusty teleprompter and went into your natural "Um, um, ah, well, um" terminal stuttering mode.
If you want a cut to the chase commentary on this vist Hambo's Hammer.
Sidenote: If anyone goes to the Olympics in Brazil and runs into the most fine Ferrara twins, with which your publisher had a brief encounter with on a beach one night, please direct them to The F.S.O.P.
CHA CHA CHIA | SEPTMBER 30, 2009
"No Way. No God Dang Way" - Hank Hill
I thought I saw it all until I saw the following.
We've all seen those cheesy Chia Pet commercials on late night T.V.
They're cute and worthless and as far as the 'Fork is concerned, some fool is wasting money while some shrewd marketer or manufacturer is taking said money from the fool.
The commercials are tolerable, but Porcus woke up last night to a...this is too funny that I can't make this up, an Obama Chia Pet.
An Obama Chia Pet?
My first reaction was, "Gee, Pork, is this a flashback from your wasted youth?
Is this a surreal dream I'm having?
So, that confirmed, I picked up the remote, turned up the volume to make sure this was a real commercial. Lo and behold, yes, it was the real deal.
My next reaction was to protect my head for fear of cracking my skull while rolling to the floor in sheer laughter.
This is not a photo manipulated image. It may be satire in spirit by the creator, but it's a real commercial.
If your a channel surfing night owl and want a good laugh, you'll see it.
Hey, it's actually a great gift idea. See, with the holidays on the horizon, and Obama's grand scheme is to hijack our wallets, we won't have money to buy real gifts. We can all send our Barak voting friends and relatives an Obama Chia Pet.
Think about it. It's cheap, it's a novelty and eventually, disposable, just like him.
When you order yours, after watering it or pi$$ing on it a trillion time$ in the first 100 days and watching it grow a fro, would you please send me a photo?PIG's publisher will gladly publish it.
PRESERVING THE GREAT AMERICAN SPIRIT | SEPTMBER 08, 2009
It is with great regret that the Porcus War Room changed it's exterior decor from his beloved Old Glory, to the more, "In Your Face" banner, below.
If any more explanation is needed as to why the banner is displayed below, consult your newspaper or blow the dust off of you 3rd grade history books.
We American's need to amplify our Town Hall showdowns, Tea Party protests and upgrade to chainsaws, crowbars and Old Betsy's, if necessary.
DEAD KENNEDY'S | AUGUST 27, 2009
Hey Ted! Hearty Congratulations!
You finally did it! You achieved martyr and crusader status and joined the ranks of your late brothers.!
Wow. Porcus is so damn proud you realized your lifelong dream without doing diddly, I honestly don't know whether to shit, fart, order a pizza and beer, or all of the above.
After a lifetime of piggybacking off your brothers' legacy, public sympathy, and your rum running father's ill gotten profits all geared toward grooming you and your siblings towards pickpocketing America's wallets, you finally achieved Mary Jo status.
Wherever you are, I hope Mary Jo is substituting for Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates the day you arrive.
Nighty night, dead Ted.
Porcus is now commencing to indulge in some Stimulus Style New England clam chowder, that comes straight from the "Kennedy" Compound.
Don't worry PIGsters, Porcus won't enjoy that meal too long. He'll puke it out on their front lawn, and continue on his quest to find that once forgotten place formerly known as...America.
SCAMS AND SHAMS | JULY 30, 2009
We're all feeling the financial pinch one way or another. Some worse than others and will go to desperate measures to make ends meet.
Some have had to take unpdaid days off. Some have had to take menial jobs with a substantial pay cut. And others fall for get-rich-quick and fly-by-night scams, and the internet is ground zero for scam artists preying upon innocent folks looking for some extra scratch.
Unbeknownst to me, Mrs. Porcus, new to the internet, started filling out online surveys, in the hopes of winning cash and/or prizes. I have told her a thousand times, DO NOT FALL FOR THAT CRAP! They just want your personal information to sell to marketing list brokers who are going to fill your inbox with needless crap and tempting, empty offers for the unsuspecting.
Well, the other day, we recieved a swell piece of mail which contained a check made out to my wife's name in the amount of $2,975 from TCF Bank, Livonia, MI.
The name of the company is CONSUMER RESEARCH GROUP, WIGGINS, MS
TEL. 1-647-894-7303 FAX 1-212-918-9307 (A New York area code).
Basically, they bill themselves as a Mystery Shopper outfit.
The check came with instructions on what to do with it and how to go about "making money" for yourself.
Step 1. Cash or deposit check.
Step 2. Call the number provided and they provide you with a name and location to wire the money to. This must be done within 7 days, according to their instructions.
Step 3. Find the nearest Money Gram and wire $2,475 plus a $100 service fee.
Step 4. Find the nearest Wal-Mart, K-Mart, Best Buy, Macy's, J.C. Penny or Sears and use $100 to purchase an item that you keep. Just fax them the receipt.
Step 5. You keep the reamaining $300.
Step 6. Explain to the bank you had no idea how the check bounced and your bank will tell you they want their money back.
Porcus smelled a rat from the start, but was curious. I told Mrs. Porcus to go ahead and deposit the check and let it sit for 10 days - 2 weeks. If it clears, it's good. If not, the bank will only deduct the original amount of the check from her account.
She waited 2 days and checked with the bank. They told her there were no funds in the account of the check she deposited, but since she has been a long time customer, she will incur no fees or penalties.
When she returned from the bank, naturally she admitted I was right, as usual, and I called the company. The conversation went like this, almost word for word:
CONSUMER RESEARCH GROUP (CRG): Hello. (in either an African or Caribbean accent).
Porcus' Red Flags are at full mast at this point.
Porcus: Yes, my wife received a check from your company the other day and wants to go ahead with the instructions you provided her.
CRG: Great. Have you found a Money Gram outlet in your area?
CRG: Okay. Here's the name and address you wire the money to. (He provided me wit the information).
Porcus: I'll do it right away, but I have ask, 'Are you an offshore company?'
Porcus: I thought so. See, my wife held the money in the bank, and went to check the account and her bank informed her there were no funds on your end to back up your check.
Porcus: Do you make it a habit to take advantage of people looking for extra income?
CRG: (to my surprise, he answered) Yes.
Porcus: Have you ever had any complaints filed against you by any consumer...
At that point, I heard a "click" on the other end, and the line went dead.
I hung up the phone with a sense of accomplishment, civic duty and had some fun 'Forking them in the process.
I'm no crusader for any consumer advocacy or watchdog groups, but do not like to see good people falling for shady scams.
So, as all scam - saavy folks know, if it sounds too good to be true, it is.
There is an old familiar Latin saying: Caveat Emptor - "Let the buyer beware."
There is another, not so familiar latin saying that consumers should arm themselves with: Caveat Venditor - "Let the seller beware."
In other words, when you're asking Mr./Mrs. Scam Artist some hard questions, you're letting them know that you're on to them.
It's much like a burglar that skips your home because he/she/it knows you're armed to the teeth, and moves on the next unsuspecting, unarmed mark.
By arming yourself with information, checking with consumer groups, you can prevent the scammers, spammers, telemarketers and "get rich quick by sitting on your ass, part time" low lifes from invading your life.
Live long and prosper, Piggies.
CREATIVE PROBLEM SOLVING...BROKEN GUITAR STYLE | JULY 11, 2009
You get on the phone and get the "That's not my department, I'll transfer you to the right department"song and dance, all the while being treated like a number.
You wait on hold forever in order to have your problem resolved, but in frustration, you finally hang up the phone in defeat.
If you're lucky, at least for a moment, you get to speak to an actual human that can come up with any host of reasons for them to deny you service.
"You didn't fill out the proper form in the alloted time."
"The computer doesn't have you in our database."
"That's not our policy."
The list of justified incomptence and excuses is endless.
One individual, musician Dave Carroll had a problem with United Airlines regarding the airline baggage handlers breaking his $3,500 guitar and not wanting to pay for damages.
Instead of going Old Betsy after getting the run around, he decided to write a song and post it on youtube.
The video got so many hits this past week, it drew the attention of the United Airlines slugs who have now resolved to come to terms with the problem.
Looks like United got 'Forked.
Enjoy the catchy little tune and the message it sends.
Good luck in your career Mr. Carroll.
THE GIPPER'S READING ROOM | JUNE 02, 2009
If you ever find yourself in Simi Valley, California, take advantage of the opportunity of a lifetime and stop by the Reagan Presidential Library.
PIG's unofficial Road Dog and Travel Guide Porcus found himself right there, yesterday.
I've been to the Library Of Congress. I've been to the Nixon Library. I've been to the Smithsonian. I've been to the National Air And Space Museum. Hell, I visit my own local library, pretending like I'm some sort of literate by checking out books I leave on my coffee table but never read, only to make any guests to the War Room feel inferior.
But nothing, and I mean nothing compares to the Reagan Library. It is one awesome tribute to one awesome president, and the planners couldn't have picked a finer location, most befitting Ronald Reagan's outdoor spirit.
The first thing that stuck me was the drive uphill to the entrance. Once outside of my ride, I took in a most breathtaking view of Simi Valley. One great thing about the environment, you can't see the filth that is Los Angeles from there. Added bonus, no beaners, no graffiti and no smog.
As I entered Cowboy Country with Mrs. Porcus, I was really impressed by the politeness, and the knowledge of the guides. At that point, I wondered out loud to Mrs. Porcus, I either was beamed up by Scotty to a far off land that has no resemblance to the cess pool of SoCal I just left, or I accidentally time traveled to a little pocket of SoCal inhabited by America lovers.
Once inside, I couldn't help but notice the look of tranquility on the other visitors' faces as they perused the artifacts and legacy of Ronald Reagan's Presidency.
The Library even has a jar on Ronny's favorite...jellybeans on display.
There is on display a chunck of the Berlin Wall.
There is so much to get absorbed in that I almost forgot my mission: to see Air Force One.
She was there in all her stature. A beautiful 707 completely maintained, and it sure does shine. Not a speck of dust.
Two stipulations upon entering Air Force One. The first, no still photography. I get that, for security reasons. The second, it's $12.50 per person which I gladly forked over.
Once inside, the feeling that overcomes any visitor, is that you are now entering the confines of Reagan's place of policy making, speech writing, decision making, and probably horsing around.
I won't bore you anymore.
Scroll down for a few pictures I chose to share with the PIG faithful.
Air Force One.
Air Force One.
Look close. How the hell did they not only transport and get the jet inside, but get it positioned on concrete pedestals?
Presidential Limo. Yes, the very same where the assassination attempt occured.
America lover and preservor, Ronald Reagan.
PIGsters, if you ever want to get high and wasted and even overdose on liberty and freedom and celebrate you being fortunate enough to be born in America, even if it's temporary, visit the Reagan Library.
CLASS ACT | MAY 31, 2009
The other evening was bittersweet in Late Night Television. Jay Leno most humbly passed the torch to Conan O'Brien as the new host of The Tonight Show.
Beginning Monday, Conan will be the new Late Night King, unless he flames out and falls flat on his Irish face.
Jay Leno is a hard act to follow, much like his predecessor, Johnny Carson. Talk about big shoes to fill, Jay stepped in after Johnny Carson, and immediately won everyone over among a lot of skepticism and criticism.
Jay went out of his way to thank and give props to his writing staff, producers, cameramen, catering staff, and of course, his good friends Kevin Eubanks and John Melendez.
Some memorable Jay-isms:
Here's something to think about: How come you never see a headline like 'Psychic Wins Lottery'?
Iraq began destroying those missiles they don't have over the weekend. See, President Bush may be the smartest military president in history. First, he gets Iraq to destroy all of their own weapons. Then he declares war.
I went into a McDonald's yesterday and said, "I'd like some fries." The girl at the counter said, "Would you like some fries with that?"
Politics is just show business for ugly people
You can't stay mad at somebody who makes you laugh.
For the first time in history, sex is more dangerous than the cigarette afterward.
War continues in Iraq. They're calling it Operation Iraqi Freedom. They were going to call it Operation Iraqi Liberation until they realized that spells 'OIL.'"
The Supreme Court has ruled that they cannot have a nativity scene in Washington, D.C. This wasn't for any religious reasons. They couldn't find three wise men and a virgin.
The University of Nebraska says that elderly people that drink beer or wine at least four times a week have the highest bone density. They need it - they're the ones falling down the most.
Today President Bush ordered an investigation into whether it is appropriate to have civilians with no experience running a Navy sub. Hey, how about an investigation into whether it's appropriate to have a civilian with no experience running the country?
The reason there are two senators for each state is so that one can be the designated driver.
The Secret Service has announced it is doubling its protection for John Kerry You can understand why - with two positions on every issue, he has twice as many people mad at him.
If God had wanted us to vote, he would have given us candidates
There was another war-related casualty today. The French were injured when they tried to jump on our bandwagon.
Isn't this amazing? Clinton is getting $8M for his memoir, Hillary got $8M for her memoir. That is $16M for two people who for eight years couldn't remember anything.
The Washington Bullets are changing their name. They don't want their team to be associated with crime. From now on, they'll just be known as the Bullets.
In a speech yesterday John Kerry said that before November he may go to Iraq. Is that a good idea for him to go to Iraq? You thought Bush didn't have a reason to bomb Iraq before.
President Bush said it's now time for a change in Iraq and he wants them to have a Western-style democracy like ours. So right now in Iraq, the economy is collapsing, businessmen are corrupt, and Hussein wants his son to take over as president. Sounds like mission accomplished.
Bush reiterated his stand to conservatives opposing his decision on stem cell research. He said today he believes life begins at conception and ends at execution.
Now see, a lot of critics are saying Arnold can't get elected because he's just an ambitious guy with a famous name, who doesn't know anything about running the government. Didn't hurt George Bush.
The crime problem in New York is getting really serious. The other day the Statue of Liberty had both hands up.
John Kerry speaks French fluently. Democrats are saying he's one in a million. A war hero who speaks French, isn't it more like one in a trillion?
An Israeli man's life was saved when he was given a Palestinian man's heart in a heart transplant operation. The guy is doing fine, but the bad news is, he can't stop throwing rocks at himself.
President Bush announced tonight that he believes in democracy and that democracy can exist in Iraq. They can have a strong economy, they can have a good health care plan, and they can have a free and fair voting. Iraq? We can't even get this in Florida.
If God doesn't destroy Hollywood Boulevard, he owes Sodom and Gomorrah an apology
You're not famous until my mother has heard of you.
Congratulations to Floyd Landis, young man from Pennsylvania, for winning the Tour de France. This is the eighth time in a row an American has gone through France and into Paris. Eighth times! Even the Germans only did it twice.
Congratulations to the Italian people for winning the World Cup. ... They won after France’s best player got ejected for head butting. That’s the closest anyone in a French uniform has come to combat in 60 years
And Starbucks is finally opening a store in France. You know it’s very hard to get an American store over there because the French are very protective of their culture and their customs and their food. It took Starbucks years; in fact they kept Starbucks out longer than they kept Hitler out.
There are reports that France may agree to train Iraqi soldiers. Don’t the Iraqis already know how to surrender?
People ask what drives him. I can understand what "drove" Lance Armstrong; if I was an American traveling in France, I’d like to get through that country as fast as I could.
Lance Armstrong just won his fifth Tour de France. You know, that means he now has more victories in France than the German army. And the Germans only marched through twice – he did it five times.
In the latest tape, bin Laden has called for the destruction of America, opposition to the war in the Middle East and labels our government an evil crusader. Oh, that's not bin Laden. I'm sorry. That was the president of France.
The Hitler miniseries on CBS, seven nominations. The Napoleon miniseries also got seven nominations. So Hitler is up against Napoleon. Do you realize this could be the first time the French beat the Germans?
They say over in France the wine region over there is going through an incredible heat wave, destroying all the crops. The crops are ruined and this has devastated the French economy. Proving once again: Prayer works.
The French decided to use Woody Allen because he’s the one guy on the planet who doesn’t frighten them.
While President Bush was over there, a lot of protesting. People throwing rocks, breaking windows. Great, now the French start fighting.
France has accused the U.S. Of being rude and abusive to them and they’re taking it personally. And remember, every time an American is rude and abusive they’re taking a job away from a Frenchman.
For those of you not familiar with this holiday, Cinco de Mayo celebrates a victory of Mexico over the French army in 1862. Beating the French, who hasn’t done that? I think the piñatas put up more fight than the French.
France has asked Iran to allow more thorough international inspections of its nuclear program. And if Iran won’t do it, France is threatening to ... you know, ask again.
U.N. weapons inspectors said they want to go back into Iraq. And now the fighting is over, so do the French.
The leaders of Russia, France and Germany – or, as I call them, the "axis of envy – gathered for a summit on what their part in the rebuilding of Iraq should be. You know something? I think France should participate in rebuilding Iraq. When it comes to having experience about what to do after losing a war, nobody does it better than the French.
We had another war-related casualty today. France hit the ground when they tried jumping on our bandwagon.
Today is April Fool's Day, the day we traditionally honor the French.
The United States Navy is training sea lions to protect our ships. They are teaching sea lions how to find bombs. Sea lions will help us, but the French won’t.
What we’re doing, basically, is giving these key Iraqi officials instructions on how to surrender. See, this is where we could have used the French.
They’re going to use sea lions to guard ships, and they use dolphins to locate mines. In fact, you know the only animal that won’t help out? French poodles.
According to the tabloids, Michael Jackson is making plans to move to a chateau in France. You thought the French hated us before.
This was a front-page story in USA Today – American tourists in Paris report being yelled at, attacked and spit on by the French. So things are finally getting back to normal.
A member of Canadian Parliament named Carolyn Parrish said she hates Americans and that we are bastards. So my guess is she's French Canadian.
As you know, the French continue to resist the war in Iraq or even help us. And now Bill Clinton has even come out against France. In fact, to show how serious he is, he’s vowed not to French kiss anybody until this thing is settled.
Well, it’s Valentine’s Night, which means right about now millions of couples are doing to each other what the French did to us today at the U.N.
If you liked those, his most memorable quote came a week after the 9/11 terrorist scumbag attacks and I'll paraphrase:
"You know, America suffered a devasting loss last week. My Dad was a boxer, and to use his terminology, we were sucker punched."
Jay, we wish nothing but continued success and hope to see you motoring around SoCal in any of your fine automobles.
Thanks for getting Porcus to sleep in a good mood on a nightly basis.
GOOD WINE VS. BAD WINE | MAY 28, 2009
Okay, the following was sent by a personal friend. I figured, "What the Hell" I'll stick my neck out for the wine industry, aka, Big Wine by posting a most professional spokeswoman doing her damned best to distinguish Skidrow Rotgut from from uppitty wines with "aroma" and bouquet" served at fancy-pants restaraunts without the attitude.
We don't know her name, don't care, only because whoever she is, she looks like she can quench some thirst.
Don't worry. Once Porcus comes down to earth and lands on his own pitchfork, and it's only a matter of time, he'll be forced to toss that fine wine for his usual beer-ski's.
Remember, the following was submitted by a recently converted beer drinker, and once you scroll down, you'll understand why.
Why a Good Bottle of Wine Costs So Much
I was at a friend's house recently and he offered me a glass of wine.
See the chart below.
Hopefully, you've had your fun, you wino's.
%@*#!$># COMPUTERS - BYTE ME! | MAY 19, 2009
My recent absence - and thanks for noticing - was due to a failure of the technical kind.
Seems my brand spanking new chock full 'o bells and whistles with dual processors and a gazillion megabytes of RAM computer on steriods took a dump.
Yep, seems like old times. It was about a year ago that my Piece 'O Shit Mac - as Hambo referred to it - took the ultimate crap, right into cybersomewhere.
So, being in a postion where I had to have a computer, I switched to a PC platform.
I was convinced she was state of the art, and the damn thing actually worked great for about a year. The thing started to fade out, freeze up, call me names and then peter out.
So I bring it to the shop to see what the problem was. It was explained to me, so I brought it home.
Not two days after I bring it home from the shop...ta da! It acts up again. This thing doesn't need a "tune up." What it needs is a techno bitch slapping.
Well, here is where I could ramble on about man's utter reliance on machines and technology in order to function and communicate, creating a social void between uninteracting humans, and furthermore retarding the necessary connections...zzzzzzzzz.
Why bother. I really can't get mad at an inanimate object like a computer or my dependence on one.
I can go Texas chainsaw at the manufacterers, salesmen and repairmen that convince suckers like me that what I bought 10 years ago, or 10 minutes ago, is somehow obsolete. They'll tell you you'll be the first kid on the block to be the proud owner of a whiz-bang beauty of a computer like this.
To all you computer geeks that talk over me with terms like gigazoombobalators, quadruple titanium laser processors, mega free flowing ionic simulators and look at me like I'm from another planet because I don't understand a word you're saying, I have something to say to you in plain English. But first, assume the position while I wedge this tower up your microteenymegastinkyorifice.
Comfy? Good. Now...BITE ME you virtual geeks.
I really miss my old Mac.
FAREWELL, MAXINE | APRIL 22, 2009
The following was brought to my attention from the good folks at Hallmark Greetings Cards Legal Division.
In essence, it states that they don't appreciate PIG's use of Maxine's likeness on our website.
It strikes me odd that I did not hear from Maxine's creator himself, John Wagner, rather, Hallmark's squadron of lawyers.
Dear Sirs, Your posting of the Maxine cartoon captioned in Pig's Gallery on http://www.pigazette.com/pigprattle.html was recently brought to our attention. While we have complete respect for your right to voice your opinion on all matters, we must object to your use of our trademark and copyright-protected Maxine character as the "voice" of your opinion. Please remove the images of Maxine posted on this site. Your cooperation is appreciated. Best regards, Hallmark Legal Division Hallmark Cards, Incorporated 2501 McGee Trafficway, MD 339 Kansas City, Missouri 64108 Telephone: 1-816-274-5583 Facsimile: 1-816-274-7171 This message contains information which may be confidential and/or legally privileged, and it is intended only for the use of the addressee (s) indicated above. If you are not the intended recipient, you may not use or disclose its contents but should notify the sender immediately by e-mail and destroy the original message. This message, including any attachments, is for the designated recipient only and/or Hallmark Cards, Inc. employees. It may contain privileged, proprietary, or otherwise private information. If you have received it in error, please notify the sender immediately and delete the original. Any other use of the e-mail, disclosure of the information, or distribution by you is prohibited. Here is my reply:
P.S. Hallmark, Here's a parting gesture, just for you.
PORCUS PLAGIARIZED? | APRIL 19, 2009
Recently, while having a whole bunch of nothing to do, I found myself watching a little more TV than allowed and reading a real hoot called the L.A. Times, I ran across a few images that hit close to home. The PIG home to be exact.
Before I get into particulars, I should mention I've worked in the creative field for years, both editorially and on the advertising/marketing side as well, and might know a thing or two about how the creative process works with artists and writers.
At times, a writer or an artist may hit a creative "wall" and be stumped as to how to approach a given assignment or topic. Been there myself, many times. Witness the image of Barbi Q. Ribs. I partially stole from the artist that created Jessica Rabbit, and admitted it.
While studying art, it was always recommended to compile as much reference material as possible either for style or contextual reasons, lift what you need, preferably from the best, and take it from there, in your own fashion.
Here is where Porcus uncovered some examples of some original PIG themes that were incorporated into other artist's work, for profit.
Author and National Review editor Jonah Goldberg was on the Glenn Beck show, promoting his book, "Liberal Fascism: the Secret History Of The American Left From Mussolini To The Politics Of Meaning."
Probably a good read, as the topic of that particular show has a lot to do with PIG and political correctness.
What struck me was the cover art for his book. A Smiley face with a Hitler-esque mustache.
So what's the big deal?
Surf the Preamble section of PIG, to our Declaration Of Incorrectness page and you might see some similarities in the artwork created for PIG, by me...in 1993! Or at least the message the illustration was saying bears a lot of resemblence to the same topic.
Looks like a Smiley face with a Hitler-esque mustache, huh? Am I only one to see the similarities?
Do I think I was plagiarized? No. Well, maybe.
Sour grapes on my part? No, but if my idea was ripped-off, I wouldn't mind getting some credit.
Money works, too.
Did that get me tee'd off? Nope.
I was looking for the daily crossword in the L.A. Times, and on the opposite page was the following cartoon, published April 16, 2009.
It doesn't matter what the hell the caption read, but the image depicted Superman wearing panty-hose and garter belts to boot.
What's the big deal, Porcus?
Here's the big deal:
The above image is for our Girlieman section, which was executed by me, graphically, and collaborated with, creatively with Hambo, several years ago.
We here at PIG are personally complimented when folks use bits and pieces of our creative and intellectual material, either graphically or with our PIG-isms or Hambo-isms.. To us, it means we're reaching out and making a difference in our readers.
However, when we smell creative rip-off "artists" taking credit, money and career-boosting props for something that was inspired by us here at PIG, we do take exception.
If you are creatively inspired by what you read, see, learn and practice here at The Free State Of PIG, fine. But, give PIG credit, when it's due, if you infuse our material into your own.
We don't wish to play Creative Cops at all by hunting down suspected plagiarists, but a lot of work goes into what we do, and we hope our hard work and passion reflect what we're doing.
Hambo and I go light years out of our way to be as original as possible with the material we present on a regular basis with a PIG-ish approach and attitude.
All we ask is a little respect. But if we catch you, we have a forum of our own to expose rat-plagiarizing bastards.
You know who you are, too.
ST. PADDY'S DAY: GET YOUR SHAMROCKS OFF! | MARCH 12 , 2009
|It's that time 'O Year again! St. Freaking Patrick's Day. What St. Paddy's Day would be complete without the standard issue parade, office parties where you're a wet blanket if you don't wear green, eat corned beef and cabbage, puke green, and of course, the local drunk tank is filled to capacity with Irish-For-A-Day wannabe's?
We all see the cute little shamrocks and leprechauns posted outside of storefronts, restaurants and homes. That's fine.
Is it insulting to the Irish to be pigeon-holed as drunken, harp wielding, barroom brawling, happy-go-lucky charms types - 365 DAYS A YEAR - only to have that stereotype amplified on St. Patrick's Day? Don't know, I can't speak for all Irish, but one thing I do know, the Irish do have a great sense of humor and the gift of rolling with the punches. Such trivial matters of being labeled with what Ethnocrats call negative stereotypes mean squat to the Irish.
With all of the other "National Pride" and "Awareness Months" cluttering up the calendar, one has to wonder, are these groups celebrating certain, specific achievements accomplished by members of their group? Or, as I suspect, remind anyone within shrieking distance of the centuries of oppression "they" have endured, only to rise from the ashes, and do an annual, month long end-zone dance ritual in whitey's face as a reminder. It almost gets to the point of being a pissing contest - who can out-oppress the next group.
St. Patrick's Day separates itself from the herd by actually being festive. In spite of the crappy history the Irish had at the expense of the British, the Irish don't celebrate or wallow in the misery of their historic past. They revel in it.
Is this going to be another "I Am Irish, Hear Me Roar" rant? No way, McGillicuddy, but certain facts that can't be ignored will be emphasized.
The Irish have never demanded 40 acres and a mule, reparations or special rights.
The Irish, on St. Patrick's Day wave the American flag, proudly, in their parades and beer-drinking orgies.
The Irish have also proudly and gratefully assimilated themselves into the melting pot, with no beefs, complaints or demands.
The Irish in America historically have done the work that even black slaves wouldn't do, so Chico, Pedro and Lupe, the Irish beat you to it as the first "Green Card" holders, and you don't have a monopoly on menial labor either.
Excerpt from Roger D. McGrath:
Do the Irish use that as ammo for certain, special demands by saying, "See, we had it worse than you?"
No, and hell no. Instead, we can all take notes and learn from the quiet pride and humility of the Irish. When life steps on your toes, spills your beer and spits in your face, hit back, laugh it off and move on.
So, all of you shrill, misery-mongering, annoying Ethnocrats, Gendercrats, Colonista shakedown artists and squawkers, sometimes you have to take one on the chin or up the chute, so sit down, shut up, go back in the closet and listen up.
Now, with the help of their corrupt Politician brethren, the Irish are going to go a step futher than merely having one day to celebrate. They're going to test drive an Irish Awareness month and show the Peanut Gallery how to celebrate and get your Shamrocks off, too!
At the end of the month, if one stricly adheres to and survives our proposed schedule of activities, and don't find that elusive Pot 'O Gold at the end of the rainbow, you'll probably wish you were anything but Irish.
Here is O'Porcus' proposed "Irish Awareness Month Boot Camp " schedule and being all inclusive, Non-Irish are encouraged to partake in the festivities.
1.) Wake up, or come to. Drink beer.
2.) Get dressed. Drink beer.
3.) Have some corned beef and cabbage. Drink beer.
4.) Go to work at brewery. Drink beer.
5.) Go to parades. Drink beer.
6.) Go to pub. Recite poetry to pretty lass. Drink beer.
7.) Get in fight with boyfriend of pretty lass. Shake hands afterward. Drink beer.
8.) Go to drunk tank. Pee and puke beer.
9.) Get out of jail. Drink beer.
10.) Crawl home. Drink beer.
11.) Puke and pass out in your own mess. Rinse with beer.
1.) Wake up, or come to. Drink beer.
2.) Get dressed. Drink beer...
If you can survive a month of that, than by golly, you're an honorary Irishman. That schedule sounds a whole lot more festive than spending a month shoving historical injustices, not done to you, upon the rest of us. Besides, you can't complain, shriek, snivel, moan, groan or bellyache with a mouthful of Guinness. Think of the spillage.
Moral of the Story? 'Tis better to have a beer in your mouth than a chip on your shoulder, huh?
So, outside of the corrupt politician reputations, the Irish for the most part are a pretty happy lot, but if you piss off an Irishman just enough, he may end up creating a website called PIG.
Don't forget - eat, drink, pee and puke proudly, St. Patrick's Day McPIGsters.
THE NOVELTY | FEBRUARY 28, 2009
|From the Boob-Tube and blow-dried Boom Box talking heads and pundits, to Bloggers, Op-Eds and even bumper stickers and T-shirts, you can't escape the Obamamania overkill unless you live in a hermetically sealed vacuum...on Mars.
With all the attention - both positive and negative - Barack Obama is receiving from all angles, I decided to do a pictorial display, offering my two cents worth. After all, what can I write or say that hasn't already been written, spoken and many times, recycled, rewritten or respewed.
Much like the Pet Rock, Tickle Me Elmo and the cuteness of a newborn approaching the Terrible Two's, the novelty of the Obamamania fad will wear off in time, but with legions of catatonic-like Obomunists, Obamamaniacs, Obamatopians, and ObamaZombies lurking around every corner, saturating every TV and radio station outpost, Ivory Tower, damn near every magazine cover, blogging outpost, websites, etc., don't expect the novelty to wear out anytime soon.
Both sides of the media aisle are having a love affair with The Annointed One.
The conventional outlets are propping him up higher than the water they believe him to walk on, AND overlooking any personal or Presidential flaws in his bag of tricks.
The pundits on the fringes and outskirts - aka - The Right, are also having a love affair of a different sort. They've got Mr. Messiah under a microscope of Hubbel capabilities and are waiting for the slightest slip up to magnify. They're on a feeding frenzy, capitalizing on every boo-boo Odumbo makes, and loving it. Secretly, so am I.
Is the American public being force-fed the media's puppy-love crush they have on Odumbo? No, as of now, we're still free to change the dial to channels that haven't been "liquidated" by the Un-Fairness Doctrine, but there is such a thing as overkill.
I'm no conspiracy theorist, but I do wonder about the saturation of this non-stop Obama-thon.
Are we the subjects of repetitive conditioning and exposure to Obamamania for the purpose of behavior modification? The gullible and easily persuaded may be, but for the rest of us individuals, no.
I guess the Obama novelty is a phase in the form of a nightmare, even torture we're all going to have to endure.
In time, this too, shall pass, LIKE AN OVERSIZED, RAZOR SHARP KIDNEY STONE!!!
If you want a more articulate, table pounding rant on a related subject, I highly recommend you read: Hambo's Hammer: February 25, 2009.
And now, hold on to your hot dogs and enjoy the Porcus pictorial of the perpetrator of the Porkulus Plan.
Obama, Welcome To...
THIS IS YOUR LIFE!!!
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|Silly me. I tried to be as objective as possible. Hope you enjoyed the pictorial and was wondering. Has the novelty worn out?
GET OFF MY LAWN | JANUARY 15, 2009
One of the great PIG favorite's, Clint Eastwood, in his new feature film, Gran Torino, came up with another classic phrase.
"Get Off My Lawn."
The premise and context is that there are a bunch of delinquents, punks, malcontents and otherwise the breed that lowers your property value.
In this case, the hoodlums barked up the wrong tree, by deciding to mess with Clint's Gran Torino and messing with his private property.
That's the small picture.
The big picture invovles American's certain rights, like, oh, The Right To Keep And Bear Arms, property owner rights, and maybe a little peace and quiet in your pursuit of happiness.
When the plague of criminal scum invades your 'hood, dust off that box of ammo, load, lock and take aim.
It can be in the form of a crossbow, slingshot, pellet gun, peashooter, rock, rifle, hand grenade, stick of dynamite, or Hambo's old trusty, Old Betsy, but it will never end there.
There will always be tyrrants and terrorists that will spare no expence to extinguish your fundamental rights.
You'll find them lurking in your neighborhood in the form of baggy pants wearing, spray can weilding wannabe tough guys, to the rats that dwell in Washington D.C.
The "Get Off My Lawn" policy has applied to the American Spirit since our inception as a new nation.
Remember George Washington during the winter at Valley Forge when he inspired his troops to cross the Delaware?
By him doing that, Washington set the tone for the American spirit to say to the British, "Get Off My Lawn."
Fast forward to the Pearl Harbor bombing in 1941. The Japanese took a major league dump on us on that Day Of Infamy.
What did the American's do? Say "You stepped on our lawn, invaded us, and now you're going to pay, bitch."
Then there's 9-11. We got pissed on, big time.
As tragic as that is, it gets waaaay worse in the formerly subvert, but now, overt form of something called Political Correctness.
These little Korrectnik limp wristers step on our toes every damn day, when we allow them to.
They want to mold your way of thinking to someting they deem as "acceptable" according their standards, and much of it begins in Grammer School, and succesful Korrectniks will carry that torch and wave the Korrectnik Banner throughout theirs lives.
Fine, just don't step on my lawn or toes with your empty, warm fuzzy rhetoric.
Come to The Free State Of PIG with a Korrectnik attitude, guess what you get?
One. You can stick around for doses of reality, free of charge. You may end up seeing the light.
Option Two: If you are so brainwashed and braindead and terminaly Korrect, you better think twice before entering The Free State of PIG, and pontificating your emptyheaded, airhead pussy whipped views on us, your are barking up the wrong tree, sissy.
Bottom line: Hambo has his Old Betsy and Porcus has his friends, Louisvellie and Slugger.
So Korrectniks, of whatever galaxy you were hatched from, and it's not Alpha Centuri, but probably Saturn, Neptune or Jupiter, maybe Mars in some cases, Porcus issues this warning.
Get off our lawns with your empty, feel-good crap, otherwise, we will resort to having you evicted, our way.
Later, over and out and pissed off.
AMERICAN INGENUITY | JANUARY 3, 2009
This photo was submitted by dedicated PIGster, Skyeye, and was found to be too good to not be posted.
Americans seem to have a unique ability to turn lemons into lemonade.
In the case of the couple pictured, they used their imagination for the use of her "duality."
Too cool. Let's see the Chinese replicate those cup holders.
Porcus has one question for PIGster Skyeye.
Where can I get a fine pair of bottle holders like that?
Ace Hardware? Home Depot? Wal-Mart? K-Mart? The local tavern at 11:30 PM, when the female pickings are too easy?
WHAT'S IN A NAME? | DECEMBER 29, 2008
We're all subjected to our parent's whims by Mom and Pop having the authority to label you for life with your given name upon your birth and entry into this world. It ends up on your birth certificate...forever.
We all have grand, or great-grandparents with off the wall, old fashioned names. Guess what? Your parents will insert that name in your birth certificate.
If you're a dude with a uni-sex name like Gene, Francis, Rene, Pat, Kim, Marcel, or Jacques, French version of Jack, or in Maury Povich's father's case, Shirley. Even better, "A Boy Named Sue" by Johnny Cash.
Conversley, the same notion works on the other end of the gender spectrum. If you were born genetically as a female, tip the scales at a massive, muscular 350 pounds, your name is Pat, you wear flannel shirts cut off at the shoulders, wear steel toed boots, want to be referred to as "Rosie's Ex," or Butch,"
But in comparison to some of history's most notorious and reviled bloodthirsty types, having a unisex name is nothing.
How would you like to go through life with a name like, say, Attila...as in The Hun?
Judas...as in Iscariot, All-Time metaphor for selling out.
Genghis...as in Khan?
Vlad...as in The Impaler?
Benedict...as in Arnold, another sellout and turncoat?
Adolf,,,as in Hitler?
Josef...as in Stalin, or Mengele?
Idi...as in Amin?
Pol...as in Pot of the Killing Fields of Cambodia?
Jim...as in Jim Jones, cult leader.
Charles...as in Manson?
Hillary...as in The Bitch?
Barak...as in Obama, the decline of America?
The list can drag on. What parent in their right mind would name an innocent newborn with a crappy name like the ones just mentioned?
Crappy ones, I guess.
Thank you Mrs. Hitler, Himmler, Stalin, Pot, Hussien, Mussoloni, Amin for making big, murderous, megalomaniacal monsters out of little ones.
LAME DUCKS, HOPE AND...UGH...CHANGE | DECEMBER 27, 2008
This one is targeted at Nitwits and Obama Zombies.
But first up, Lame Duck Sellout, George Vicente Bush. He isn't escaping the wrath of PIG.
Simple. He sold us out. In too many ways.
Here's a parting shot.
From the easing of immigration laws to the development of Homeland Security (what a joke) to outsourcing American jobs to Punjab in India with American corporate giants in harmony with the Judas/Benedict Arnold administration.
Tough nuts for us. But it gets worse.
Come January 20th, 2009, we're going to be be eating the crap the Zombies voted in, that usually gets scraped off the bottom of your shoes after "stepping in it."
Now for the News Nitwits.
They built him up, hyped him up to the max with his "Hope and Change" platform, downplayed his associations with a racist black minister, Jerry Wright and a corrupt Illinois Governor.
The News Nitwits are accessories to the crime, guilty of aiding and abetting an empty token suit.
That's right, Obama is going to be the H.N.I.C., even though he's only half black, or half white. Depends if you're an optimist or pessimist. He may need to consult with Tiger Woods about clearing up any misinformation regarding his pedigree.
As H.N.I.C., he will be Commander-In-Chief to our troops. I wonder what kind of respect or inspiration he will generate from within our military. Probably nothing but contempt.
Now comes the Brain Dead Zombies.
Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change. Hope. Change.
What Hope? What Change?
Any foreign policy? Any domestic policy, beside hijacking working folks' witholding taxes on payday and more than likely, socialized medicine and health care.
Now comes the personal attacks on Porcus.
I have a niece, who happens to be half black. I recently spent time with her, as she is a wonderful young lady, but way misinformed.
She's only 13, but she wants her Obamamaniacal voice to be heard.
I told her that she's too young to vote, but she could always write her local fishwrap, call a talk radio show, or even start her own website.
But the accusations of your most humble publisher being a racist on her part went beyond insulting.
She asked who I voted for. I told her it sure wasn't Obama, and it's really none of your business.
She then accused me of being racist because I didn't vote Ozombie. Typical Zombie.
I then told her. "Well, I guess I am, because I didn't vote for the white guy, either."
I furthermore told her that Ozombie is nothing more than a transparent, token novelty. All sizzle, no steak.
No leadership, lots of baggage, especially his loudmouth wife and Pastor.
PIGsters, politicians of any persuasion only have their own interests in mind. They only acknowledge their voting block when election time rolls around.
They'll try and persuade you into voting "their" way.
They will gladly take your vote, money, and even your grandmother's gold tooth filling.
Prostitutes. All of them.
So, we're going to get what the voting populace wanted.
Crap. I've got to talk Hambo off the ledge and ease Old Betsy away from him.
GOOD VIBRATIONS | NOVEMBER 24, 2008
This is an actual event that just can't be made up. Scout's Honor.
Several years ago, Porcus was warming up on the stationary cycle machine next to a cute, blonde at his local gym.
She was giggling as she was reading a men's magazine, Maxim.Then, she broke broke out into uncontrollable laughter.
I asked if she was okay, and she said "Yes, but you've got to read this article."
She passed the magazine, and oh boy, this was too funny, to not be true.
I read the article and found to my astonshiment, that Taiwanese men were buying minature cell phones, giving them to their wives and girlfriends, and asking the girl's to insert the phones into an intimate "womanly" place, and set the phone to vibrate mode.
What the men would do would call the women every five minutes, for her pleasure, of course.
That's far from the kicker.
The cherry on top is the fact that the emergency rooms in Taiwan were being filled with young ladies having to have their poon tangs removed of cellular, vibratating objects by ER physicians.
Leave it to the Chinese, what, with a population of a billion plus? Like they don't know what or how to score is?
You can't make that stuff up.
Has anyone seen Dr. Porcus Welby's cellphone...or forceps?
Sorry folks, but that had to be posted, but the next time your woman squawks about you not getting her anything, give her the gift that keeps on ringing (and vibrating) and won't let her forget who loves her.
Sending that kind of message all day long will not let her soon forget your true love for her, or her true love for whomever stuck that device up her love canal.
Guys can be sick, but women are sicker for falling for that load.
Excuse me. Wife has a call, and it wasn't from me.
ZOMBIES | NOVEMBER 14, 2008
Did the recent election of President-Elect Obama cause Porcus to binge drink himself into his garage in a fit of pique and stomp his feet as a sore loser?
Hardly. It would take way more than the likes of him or his loudmouth wife to do that.
Is Porcus pissed that McCain lost?
Not even. Had no horses in that race either.
See, Porcus is not going to approach this "Hope" and "Change" with neither contempt nor sarcasism, but rather with objectivity.
Okay, that lasted all of one minute before I started laughing and crying, but we here at The Free State Of PIG had been advocating alternate candidates for well over a year.
Here's where the extra sharp Pitchfork comes out.
This election was a lose-lose propostition for the American voters, mostly.
Look at our choices. Not much except for utter transparency on both sides.
The electorate chose an inexperienced ex-cokehead as winner.
It's really not Obama's fault, but more so, as it is his myopic Zombie followers that roll out a red carpet for him, and have cast fragrant rose petals his way, wherever he goes.
No. It's the Zombies that would mindlessly crawl belly down through cactus needles to cast their ballot for non-tangible figure heads, which includes McCain, too.
Hey, Obama can't help if he's a novelty, the Brain Dead Zombies, Spin Doctors, Media Meatheads and News Nitwits created him, and the rest of us have to endure the Obama Zombies blindly bumping into the rest of us on their way to "Hope" and "Change."
We can hear the air leaking out of our nation's tires already.
You Obamamaniac Zombies will soon find out that the cloud nine of euphoria you're floating on will soon dissipate, causing you to crash land into the real world. Head first, hopefully.
Did the race factor get mentioned? How neglectful. See, when Obama does right and good, that will be the black half of Obama. When he screws up, that will be the white half of his heritage. Guess what's going to be there to do end zone dances when either occurs. Race Card Wranglers, i.e., Je$$e, Al, the Reverand Je$$e Wright, and the rest of their lot.
I was accused by a 13 year old girl of being racist because I didn't vote for Obama, and I was being critical of his lack of a game plan. I should have realized just what level of conversation I was engaged in, and fired back that that kind of logic and deduction would have the 50 million plus voters that didn't vote for Obama are racist, too in her Zombie-Like state of mind.
I was also accused of throwing my vote away by going Monkeywrench and writing in Hambo for President. Who the hell said my, or your choices were limited to the lame-asses on the ballot.
Was it a vote in the form of protest? You can bet the herd on that. After all, America was founded on the principle of protest, and frankly, Porcus is up to here with Sellout, Talking Figure Heads that "act" as an executive commander in chief.
Politicians can't help their own nature, much like rattlesnakes and rodents can't help their nature, either.
PIGsters, be vigilant and on the lookout the next 4-8 years and watch for the catatonic glazed over Zombies that will be mindlessly following the herd.
Don't say we didn't warn you.
Always remember, the bigger they are, the harder they fall.
Get used to the rhetoric, PIGsters, we're going to be neck deep in a leaky septic tank of "Hope" and "Change."
Hambo, I'll be needing that beer bottle opener...NOW!!!
Screw that. Pass me the Jack Daniels, binoculars and a slice.
NIGHTMARE ON PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE | NOVEMBER 13, 2008
Well, it and some mighty stinky shit happened to America on Election Day.
We, as a nation are all going to be waist deep, upside down for at least four years.
Heaven help us.
We will have to bite the bullet and get accustomed to pulling those "Hope" and "Change" arrows out of our rears, all the while guarding our wallets the next four years.
What foreign policy does Obama have?
As President, he will now be Commander-In-Chief. Talk about a morale booster for the miltary.
Withdraw willing troops from arena's of combat and negotiate with terrorist scum rather than blow them to smithereens is no foreign policy and has Ronald Reagan and Teddy Roosevelt turning in their graves.
Economic policy? Business owners are already feeling the pinch, not to mention their employees, aka you and me.
So what does Mr. Hope and Change propose? Raising your taxes, both personal and business in a most Marxist way.
Cabinet members? Oprah, Je$$e, Al Sharton, and the token white guy, Imus.
First "Lady" will be his loudmouth, "For the first time I'm proud to be an American," wife Michelle. That's going to be yucky, folks.
Brace yourselves, PIGsters, this is going to be a long haul, but never fear, Porcus has already talked Hambo out of the bell tower and told him he is more useful here at The Free State Of PIG than in a prison cell or pushing daisy's.
Are we chewing on sour grapes because he's black?
Hardly. It's a matter of his lack of policy, and the catatonic Obamamaniacs that naively play follow the leader.
The Free State Of PIG has decided to break out the lawn chairs and casually watch as our nation circles the drain the next 4, maybe 8 years.
That's a lot of beer, pizza and donuts.
Won't you join us?
LITTLE FRIENDS, SAY HELLO | OCTOBER 24, 2008
|Get A Gun, You Won't Have To Run. - Porcus
With Halloween on the horizon, the Cable Monsters are airing some pretty lame, so called "Horror/Slasher Movies."
From Michael Myers in "Halloween", Leatherface in "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre," Freddy Kruger in "Nightmare On Elm Street," (the list is endless). The common theme seems to be a psychopathic, bloodthirsty killer on the loose.
Another common theme is the screaming damsel in distress, who, while being chased by the bad guy, who has to do the mandatory trip, fall and even more ear piercing screaming.
That problem would be solved if someone whipped out an Old Betsy.
We have some "Little Friends" we would like to introduce you to, should you have a Leatherface lurking in your neighborhood
The Free State Of PIG advocates the Adopt A Gun And Box Of Bullets Program.
What the hell is that? Happy you asked, and happy to explain.
See, when a cowardly cat burglar, peeping tom, purse snatcher, rapist, serial killer or any other domestic terrorist knows you have no problem introducing them to their "Little Friends" Mr. .44 Magnum, Mr. Colt, Mr. Glock or Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson, they will skip your house, and make an attempt at the next one.
So, bleeding heart gun control advocates that want to regulate and disarm American's from owning guns, when your heart really is bleeding all over your carpet as a result of a break-in from a criminal, don't say we didn't warn you.
Remember, limp wristed gun controlers, there would be no 1st Amendment without the 2nd Amendment.
Stay locked and loaded PIGsters.
JOE THE PLUMBER | OCTOBER 16, 2008
|Who is "Joe The Plumber?"
He or she, is not just a plumber.
"Joe The Plumber" is the man or woman that keeps this country rolling with their hard working, business spirit, soon to be sacked, raped and plundered by Hope and Change.
"Joe The Plumber" is the person who bust's ass every day to make ends meet for his or her family.
"Joe The Plumber" is someone we all know.
Is "Joe The Plumber" a metaphor, or a symbolic step ladder for the candidates to appeal to?
Who is "Joe The Plumber?"
You get your early morning coffee and donuts from "Josephine The Plumber."
Then, on your way to work, you fill your tank from the gas station "Joe The Plumber" owns.
When you need your hair cut, nails done, car washed, oil changed, it's done by a "Joe The Plumber."
"Joe The Plumber" is the person that vends produce for you, from their Mom and Pop venue.
We get our piping hot pizza and ice cold brews from "Joe The Plumber."
And boy, oh boy, both of these fools, Hobama and McPain, and the fools that elect either one of them are in for it, along with the innocent bystander's that will be, too. Damn fools.
Candidates, using "Joe The Plumber" as an exploitive, self appealing voter blow job technique, ain't working, here at The Free State Of PIG anyway.
"Joe The Plumber," wherever you are, you should regard the candidates using you for political advantage, and borrow Hambo's Monkeywrench on Election Day and toss it right between their eyes and should take the "Joe The Plumber" comment as an insult.
By the way, what about all the "Larry The Cable Guy's?"
Mom and Pop Main Street business owners, if you want your personal and business taxes increased to compensate for the defeceit the current moron's legacy will leave, go ahead, make their day by voting for either one of them.
So, do you feel lucky? Well do you?
After all, we need those tax increases to help with bailouts, corporate and personal welfare programs.
Remember, you get what you vote for, and no refunds for the next four painful years.
Enjoy the ass crack. It's going to get stinky.
GOING BLACK BELT | OCTOBER 15, 2008
Chuck Norris recently wrote and published a book titled, "Black Belt Patriotism."
Wanna take a wild guess what that's about? If you're a Korrectnik, take flight, and do it fast, because Chuck ain't the the one to mess with, with your rhetoric and lip flapping, he will perform a roundhouse kick, on you, into reality.
A student and friend of Bruce Lee, Chuck Norris not only kicked ass with his physical skills, but he has major mental skills as well.
That, by itself is very impressive, but what really struck me was his love of country and patriotism.
Chuck Norris represents one of the last few Americans that have some cast irons and stands for his country and God given rights as an American, and not because of his movies or status, but his "Screw you" attitude towards Korrectniks, terrorists and sworn enemies.
Bottom line, don't fuck with Chuck, or people like him.
Have a nice day!
THE AMERICAN SPIRIT | OCTOBER 13, 2008
The following was sent to us by dedicated PIGster, Bill T.
Read this excerpt from a Romanian Newspaper. The article was written by Mr. Cornel Nistorescu and published under the title 'C'ntarea Americii, meaning 'Ode To America' in the Romanian newspaper Evenimentulzilei 'The Daily Event' or 'News of the Day'
An Ode to America
Why are Americans so united? They would not resemble one another even if you painted them all one color! They speak all the languages of the world and form an astonishing mixture of civilizations and religious beliefs
On 9/ll, the American tragedy turned three hundred million people into a hand put on the heart.
Nobody rushed to accuse the White House, the Army, or the Secret Service that they are only a bunch of losers.
Nobody rushed to empty their bank accounts.
Nobody rushed out onto the streets nearby to gape about.
Instead the Americans volunteered to donate blood and to give a helping hand.
After the first moments of panic, they raised their flag over the smoking ruins, putting on T-shirts, caps and ties in the colors of the national flag. They placed flags on buildings and cars as if in every place and on every car a government official or the president was passing. On every occasion, they started singing: 'God Bless America !'
I watched the live broadcast and rerun after rerun for hours listening to the story of the guy who went down one hundred floors with a woman in a wheelchair without knowing who she was, or of the Californian hockey player, who gave his life fighting with the terrorists and prevented the plane from hitting a target that could have killed other hundreds or thousands of people.
How on earth were they able to respond united as one human being? Imperceptibly, with every word and musical note, the memory of some turned into a modern myth of tragic heroes. And with every phone call, millions and millions of dollars were put into collection aimed at rewarding not a man or a family, but a spirit, which no money can buy.
What on earth can unite the Americans in such way?
Their land? Their history? Their economic Power? Money?
I tried for hours to find an answer, humming songs and murmuring phrases with the risk of sounding commonplace, I thought things over, I reached but only one conclusion... Only freedom can work such miracles.
That, PIGsters is why the American Spirit is not confined to our borders. The yearning to free oneself from oppressive despots, governments or economic conditions, compel people all over the globe to give it all up in their homeland and want make America their new home.
Now, all rise, put your hand on your heart and recite the Pledge Of Allegiance.
If you don't know our nation's pledge, learn PIG's Pledge.
BALLS, AND THE CHAINS ATTACHED | SEPTEMBER 18, 2008
What a myth, perpetrated by ugly, unshaven, man-hating Feminazi Mastadon's
No battles here between the lovlies brave enough to sink into marital bliss and abyss with your humble Hambo and Porcus.But on the Porcus Front, here at The Free State Of PIG, however, a recent incident inspired this posting.
Your humble publisher and wife recently purchased a new DVD player, and she asked if I could get some DVD movies at the local library.
"Sure thing, toots."
Well, the first time I go in, I was helped by a most gorgeous young lady of Indian descent, and thought, "Wow, talk about some hot Tandoori."
Went home, told the wife how beautiful the woman was, and she said, "Great, your'e out of my hair for the night."
So she thought.
Returned the DVD's a few days later, and yet another beauty was there with the Indian woman together behind the counter, and Mrs. Porcus asked if I could get a romance type mushy ass movie. Being a dude, and way clueless, I asked the now, two lovlies behind the desk about something that my wife may enjoy.
More than happy to help, they drove in the winning run and helped me round from third with their selections of movies with my Mrs. and score the winning run.
Returned those DVD's, thinking, wow, what a way to enhance a marriage, and not buy Viagra. But upon return, I encountered HER.
HER is a most beautiful young Asian woman Porcus ever laid eyes on. One of those women that turns a grown man's legs into wet noodles, and make your throat go dry due to her sheer beauty.
Thinking I was being suave, I asked in Korean, if she was Korean. She said no, I'm from Jakarta, Indonesia. I informed her I was now in a pool of knee deep shit because Mrs. Porcus hails from the same city.
Mrs. Porcus stormed into the library and started some real stinky stuff by marking her territory, aka, me, and letting every library babe know, and I mean KNOW, I was spoken for, any wink, smile or flirtatious gesture on anyone's part, was to be reported...STAT.
That, my friends, is a prime example of why, when some dudes get married, their balls get chained..to her, for life.
9/11: LET'S ALWAYS 'ROLL' | SEPTEMBER 11, 2008
This week will commemorate the 7th anniversary of the horrific attack on innocent Americans known as 9/11. It was, is, and will always be a defining moment in our nation's history.
Much like the rest of the world, The Free State Of PIG will never forget that day, and those people that perished should not have died in vain. As American's we need to carry the torch in rememberance of all that were tragically taken away from their loved one's into an eternal afterlife.
When the victims were either laid to rest, or memorialized, America rolled up it's sleeves and started going to town on terrorist scum. More specifically, ragheads in search of those elusive 72 virgins.
Vicente Bush casually had some aircraft carriers that were looking for a parking spot in...Ta-Da, just outside of Afghanistan, and then Iraq.
To digress for a moment, there once was a rotten piece of sub-human life that came up with what he called a "Final Solution." Hitler the name, evil the game. His claim to fame was execution and slaughter of innocent people.
The Free State Of PIG has what we would like to introduce as "The Ultimate Solution." This is in regards to saving innocent lives by extermination of the human cockroaches of the world known as terrorists. You can spot them at airports all the time. The one's with dishrags on their heads, NOT getting profiled, while your Granny is getting strip searched under the Homeland Security farce of a program.
How? We're so damn glad you asked.
The Free State Of PIG has a secret weapon in the Monkeywrench Plan. We would have two, Top Secret operatives named Agent Oink and Barbi Q. Ribs, gaining all the intelligence we need. Once the information is gathered, Chief Executive Hambo would give the order to Smoking Joint Chief of Staff Porcus to have Sergeant Pork deploy EVERY B-12, B-29, B-52, B-2 Stealth, with full payloads, carriers armed to the hilt with F-15's and drooling vengeful fighter pilots that want a few more notches in their belts, and whatever else we have in our arsenal.
Realizing that blowing those rat, scum bastards to smithereens would glorify them as martyrs, thinking they are headed to a heaven filled with milk and honey and 72 virgins, we have that covered too.
We would have every pig farmer in America donate strips of bacon, smoked ham, anything pork filled, and strap them on our bombs. But that's not the kicker. We would have The Free State Of PIG's logo printed or illustrated on every bomb we intend to drop over the sandbox.
Doesn't end there, raghead. The Fat Lady sings when we deploy female Korean Liquor Store owners to render the executioners final blow, when they say "You pay now!!!" Guess what? You will, but if you're lucky, she may ask if you have a last request before giving you your passport to Hell.
We have a question about those so called 72 virgins. What the hell did they do wrong to end up stuck with the likes of you, you terrorist worm? You are way delusional if you think they saved their virtue, anxiously awaiting the likes of murderers like you. And the 72:1 ratio doesn't quite compute either. But then again, being brainwashed or drinking camel piss doesn't either.
To any survivors of victims of 9/11, we are in no way are making light of your tragic loss. Hambo and Porcus have nothing but somber reverence for what you went through. We know that you are decent people, coping with a bad tragedy, and if you thought for a moment we would ever seriously sink to terrorist level, well, we would, but we hope you never would.
We just hope that we could ease the pain with some comic relief.
In all seriousness, one member of The Free State Of PIG was a young boy who used to fish in Long Island Sound and witnessed the World Trade Center being constructed, so 9/11 has had a very personal impact on that member of The Free State Of PIG.
You started it, you Mohammed Loving Raghead Terrorists. Americans will finish it with our "Ultimate Solution" and love of freedom.
As Americans, and all freedom loving people, we need to be vigilant in our fight with terrorist scum, and not just symbolically on 9/11, but each and every 364 days of the year.
Hey, Jihadist scum, see that picture? That's an image of a WILLING woman to pose semi-nude.
Guess what else, you camel turds?
Infadels like me are looking at her. And liking it. Alot.
Don't like it, go hunt down and tell Bin Fucking Laden.
You'll probably have to go through his security force, Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble.
The United States allowed you into our country, and how do you show your gratitude?
You commit acts of mass murder and terrorism against your hosts.
We bet your mommy is awful proud about the first RPG she and your camel shit shoveling father confiscated and gave you for a birthday gift.
The Free State Of PIG has hereby put ALL on the way low end of the Totem Pole Jihadist's on our Official Shit List.
THE KEEPER'S OF OUR GATE | SEPTEMBER 09, 2008
The Free State Of PIG has, from time to time, or actually, on a daily basis, posted and published some inflammatory material that may ruffle some (so-called) people's feathers and administer some "emotional hurts and boo-boo's."
Oh boy, and aw shucks! Are we sorry for sticking our brand of commentary into your more, Oprahsized, feminine side?
No way! In fact, get lost! But to show you the sports we are, we have an unsung heroine in the PIG Bunker commonly, and affectionetly refered to as "Staff."
She has been a dedicated, ultimate PIGal from day one.
A true, in the trenches, dedicated trooper, her trademark phrase is, "Just shoot the bastards."
Why is this on the Pitchfork?
Well the fact that some nutballs out there might want try to do harm to either Hambo or Porcus, she is diligently dedicated to protecting PIG's Co-Commanders, standing guard, locked and loaded.
If her "Get out of my face" stare into your eyes doesn't send you scampering and crying with your tail between your legs, Staff has some way trusty backup.
Wanna eat hot lead? She is way more than willing to give you your last meal before she boots you to the highway to hell.
But Porcus, you are having a woman stand guard and protect you and do the dirty work.
Right. Ever watch National Geographic when they show mother Polar Bears with their young? Wanna come within a mile of a Polar bear mother guarding her young? Didn't think so. Same thing for any smart alecks that think they can come within Staff's sniffing distance or firing range.
I think a female Polar bear with her young just may show a little more mercy on Korrectniks than our Guardian Angel At Arms, Staff.
But in the event that her hot lead doesn't do the deed, we at PIG have one more, totally Top Secret weapon called The Exploder.
The Exploder? Porcus, what the hell is that?
Sorry you asked, but I'll tell you.
The Exploder is the creature we keep locked in our basement, on a leash. Once a night we toss a bottle of water and some raw sirloin down the staircase, and every day we have to flip a coin to see who gets to put on the straight jacket and muzzle on her and take it out for a walk.
She also has some fangs on her that serve as great beer bottle openers.
Enough about The Exploder. Because of her, I'm still getting Tetanus and Rabies shots, and looking for my other testicle.
Tasmanian Devils make for better pets.
Summary: The Free State Of PIG is backed by a wonderful, way supporting staff, and frankly (or beanly) we try to thank them as best we can by staying the hell out of their way.
In sincerity, there would be no Free State Of PIG if it weren't for a dedicated Staff. We are so glad Staff is on our team, that we actually pity the unfortunate, numbnut Korrectnik that strays into Staff's path.
SEMPER FI AND HUMBLE THANKS | SEPTEMBER 06, 2008
This posting is a twofold shout out to our brave, United States Marines, and in particular, Gunny John, PIG's number one fan for life since PIG went online.
Gunny John had related some personal and professional insights with The Free State Of PIG, Hambo and myself over the years.
We consider ourselves privliged for having Marines like Gunny John visiting PIG and corresponding with us.
Before I continue, I am in no way discounting the bravery and dedication of the other members of the branches of the armed services that serve our country in harm's way. In fact, Gunny John is going to stick his bayonet where my sun don't shine, but several members of my family served in the Navy, during the Korean War, Vietnam, and the first Gulf War as pilots and officers.
I hope I didn't make Gunny John's Shit List by disclosing that, but that's a fact, Jack. The Free State Of PIG need's Gunny John & Co. on our team.
Back to The Corps. What inspired this posting was when I recently watched the DVD of Full Metal Jacket, for the 20th time, and more specifically the guy that stole the show, Marine Sergeant R. Lee Ermey, who in the movie portrayed Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, one hell of a hard-ass.
I don't know if Gunny John uses that film as a training guide for new jarhead recruits, but I did, for my kid. It instilled some fear in him that solved a few "teenage" related problems. The Marine mentality worked like a charm on my son, as I threatened to take that approach toward him unless he changed his tune.
From the Halls Of Montezuma, to the Shores Of Tripoli, The Free State Of PIG offers our utmost gratitude, and totally salutes The United States Marine Corps for all you do, on a daily basis.
Hey Gunny John, if it weren't for you defending our liberties and way of life, there would be no PIG, and I would be writing this from a Commie Gulag, and speaking either German or Japanese.
Oh, one more thing John. Do you think next time you're stateside, can you bring your platoon to my neighborhood to perform a clean-up job? See, I've got real bad neighbor that uses the whole surrounding area as his personal urinal, ash tray and trash can. I live in a way private, family oriented area, and we don't need the likes of this guy spoiling a good neighborhood.
I know, you Marines are handling more important stuff like hunting down terrorist scum, and keeping us safe. But, if you were to autograph a grenade, and send it over, Scouts Honor, I'll put it to good, creative use once the pin is pulled.
Gunny John, I hope I didn't get too mushy or sloppy with my expression of gratitude for what you do for us, and willingness to make the ultimate sacrifice for a lump like me.
Hambo and Porcus wish you and your undercharges Godspeed and come home soon from those front lines. In the meantime, The Free State Of PIG will maintain our stronghold and continue and stay dug into our trenches on the Homefront.
I would close out by saying "God Bless America", but America wouldn't be blessed if it weren't for Marines like you.
DIRTY HARRY OR BARNEY FIFE? | SEPTEMBER 04, 2008
True PIGster's don't need the likes of a wannabee, failed, ex-outlaw, Porcus to explain the difference between cops like Barney Fife and "Dirty" Harry Callahan, but for those going into personal, legal problems, which may have required handcuffs and brief incarceration, I'll tell you the difference.
Barney Fife types, for some reason, cannot think outside "The Box." Spit on the sidewalk on his watch? He'll have you hauled in, and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Top that off with him telling Floyd The Barber and Aunt Bea about his big time bust.
Now, let's move onto a guy that has no conception of what "thinking inside a box" is, "Dirty" Harry Callahan.
Ficticious? Yes, in the sense of movies, but there are some pretty cool, veteran cops, that have the ability to think creatively, and way outside "The Box."
If you thought for a second a cop like Dirty Harry would compliment you by hauling you in for puking on the sidewalk after too much tequila, you're wrong. If, however you make the fatal mistake of barfing on his shoes, different story.
I don't think he would whip out his way trusty .44, but if he did, he would probably make you wipe the vomit off of his shoes, and let you go along your merry way.
Moral?: Too many small minded cops, not enough Dirty Harry's and way too many scumbags.
Famous Dirty Harry Quotes;
"A man's got to know his limitations."
Harry Callahan: "You heroes killed a dozen people this week. What are you going to do next week?"
Lieutenant Briggs: "Suppose they panic and start shooting?"
Harry Callahan: "Briggs, I hate the goddamn system, but until someone comes along with changes that make sense, I'll stick with it."
Then of course is the all-time classic, when Harry is enjoying a hot dog but notices a bank robbery in progress.
Callahan walks across the street with his .44 drawn, locked and loaded.
One dillweed makes the fatal mistake of taking a shot at Callahan.
Harry responds with some rounds of his own, killing the son of a bitch, and wounding his crime partner.
The real fun starts when Harry encounters the wounded bank robber, whose rifle is arms lenght away.
Harry's .44 is pointed right at him almost reached for the rifle, and Harry said, "Uh-uh. You know, in all this excitement, I don't know if I fired five shots, or six."
"This is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world. It can take your head clean off. You've got to ask yourself one question, Do I feel lucky?, Well, do you, punk?"
The classic moment came when the wounded perpetrator said, "I gots to know."
Harry pulled the trigger with a deafening, silent "click," smiles, and walks away.
No offense to the dedicated law enforcement peace officers, whose sole duty, when they put the badge on and holster up, looking out for the citizenry's safety and security, but Jimminey Crickets, when you see Otis The Drunk staggering down the street, by all means, haul him/her in and let them sleep it off. No need to issue him a court appearance, summons or citation. He's a real good repeat customer.
But, future law enforcement types, tin stars, rent-a-cop wannbees, don't be so damn zealous upon graduating from the academy.Words of advice that may save your life.
HELL-A RIOTS, REVISITED | AUGUST 27, 2008
|National Geographic Channel just aired a documentary about the L.A. Riots in 1992.
As an up close and "right there" witness to that mayhem, I'll tell you, the cause is simple. Mob rule.
Was race a factor? Hell yes, and here in the Pitchfork, nothing is sacred, not even the skin color of criminals.
Certain ethnic groups, and we all all know who they are, felt shortchanged for shit that never happened to them, were awaiting the Simi Valley jury's decision of the four L.A.P.D. officers in the Rot-Knee King trial.
6:30 PM, First day of rioting. I'm at my college, in the lounge, where a T.V. is airing the opening ceremonies of the riots at the intersection of Florence and Normandie. That's where Damien "Football" Williams made his debut by kicking the crap out of Reginald Denny, an innocent trucker, caught in the wrong place, wrong time.
I called my buddy, Mike, in Beverly Hills, who I was supposed to meet for dinner with his parents, and he said he was scared shitless, and can I come by.
No problem. I entered the Santa Monica Freeway, westbound, and as I looked to my left, (south, or South Central L.A.) I saw what I had only seen on news reports from war-torn regions in the Middle East. Fires and loads of black smoke, all over the damn place. Looked like Beirut.
I get to my friends place in Beverly Hills, and he was on the phone with his parents who decided not to come to L.A. because of the riots.
I used his phone to call my mother, who lived in Simi Valley at the time, to let her know I'm OK and I'll be up there later, and I'll check on my brothers in the San Fernando Valley on my way up.
Mike and I watched the news reports, live from downtown L.A., especially, City Hall.
Numbnuts (me) came up with the brilliant idea us of going back to downtown with a camera and see up close what all the fussing is about.
He was game, so we get in my brand new truck, and arrive in Little Tokyo, about a quarter mile from City Hall.
We ran over to City Hall, and what do we see? A mob consisting of a mixture of a bunch of disgruntled blacks, hispanics, and wait, white suburbanites. Spoiled white suburbanites at that. What the hell were they doing there? Mix in some media photographers, alcohol, some way misguided fools who tipped an unmarked cop car, and that's my cue to tell my friend, "I'm SO outta here."
We made it to my truck, after dodging some bricks and bottles being hurled our way, and cruised though downtown L.A. The looting already started and there wasn't a cop in sight. It was a No-Shit-Free-For-All, No-Rules-Anything-Goes Fiesta.
I got up to my mother's house at about 2 AM and she was scared to death. The Sheriff's department had deployed helicopters over the Simi Valley area, anticipating that some gorilla's would emerge from the mist, and try to storm Simi Valley.
The next morning had a classic front page photograph of Simi Valley residents lined up outside of the local gun shop, buying ammo and firearms. Guess who/what never made it to Simi Valley? Codename: Gorillas.
Day Two: I had to go back to L.A. for a final exam. I loaded an aluminum baseball bat in my truck for "equalizing" purposes. On the way in, the smoke and smell from the fires blanketed the entire L.A. basin. I picked up my friend Mike, and we were the only two students that showed up for our finals.
Our professor, a trendy, liberal, Westwood, Starbucks type, ran in and simply said, "I'm scared to death. Since you two showed up, you both get an A+. Bye."
With that out of the way, I told my friend I want to check on some other people I know in Koreatown.
First stop, 9th and Vermont. I had a friend, Victor, who owned a carniceria, or hispanic meat and produce market. At that intersection, three of the four businesses were burnt to a crisp, except for Victor's place.
We rolled up and we see Victor with a sizable posse on the roof, armed to the teeth with rifles and shotguns. I had to ask, "Hey, how the hell is your store the only one standing?"
He replied by giving a pump on his shotgun, and simply said "There's no way those Miates (Mexican slang for June Bugs, or niggers) are taking my place.
After checking in on some other friends, I had to check my home in Rancho Cucamonga. On the way, a cop pulls me over to alert me that I was going over the speed limit.
He didn't issue me a ticket, but did ask, "Do you play baseball?"
"Not recently" I said.
"Did you know I can arrest you for carrying a concealed weapon with that bat behind your seat?"
I snapped back and asked if he had been to L.A., like in the last 24 hours. His answer of course, was no.
With that, I told him I was coming from L.A. and this was my means of protection, and I came pretty close to using it, too.
Sometime Around Day Three: The day "They" come out of the woodwork, like the cockroaches they are. "No Justice, No Peace" creeps were echoing their sickening mantra all over the fucking place. To counter that however, the California National Guard were also all over the place. My girlfriend at the time was a Korean, and she felt the need to stock up on supplies...in Koreatown.
We hit the Korean and American markets and on the way back to Cucamonga, we were at a stop light on Wilshire Boulevard, were a bunch of Guardsmen standing post. I told my girlfriend to give me the 12-pack of Pepsi, which I gave to the Guardsmen.
I expressed my gratitude for their service, and wished I could have given them some brews instead of soda, but they were on duty.
What came in the aftermath? Not much. Some "No Justice, No Peace" crumbs still refer to the riots as "civil unrest."
The L.A.P.D. is now more reluctant than ever to profile or clean up the 'hood, for fear of "violating" someone's civil rights.
If you thought Korean's mistrusted blacks before the riots, well, nevermind. They're not exactly holding hands around a campfire singing Kumbaya in unison.
People lost businesses, homes and lives.
One dumbass Korean business owner, was nailed for insurance fraud, claiming he lost his business due to arson. That part was true, but the problem was, he forgot to turn off his surviellance camera, while HE torched his own place.
What's the point of this post? I don't know, but National Geographic started it by airing their L.A. Riot documentary.
My mother told me in the aftermath of the riots, that every generation has a defining moment, where one never forgets where they were, or who they were with at that moment in history.
Hers was the assasination of JFK. The L.A. Riots were my generations, then she reminded me of the 9/11 tragedy.
SKYWAY TO HELL | AUGUST 25, 2008
About a year ago, I found myself in the Alaska Airlines terminal awaiting a flight in the lounge in Portland, Oregon.
All was quiet, as folks were waiting to board the plane. I was doing a crossword puzzle. An elderly woman was fiddling around with her purse. A few National Guardsmen were joking around. A few snot gobblers were playing musical chairs.
And then..."IT" came into the lounge.
"IT" is the one person NOBODY wants to end up sitting next to. She, and her 450+ pounds of hot air waddle up to the desk, and insisted upon letting not just the poor souls behind the desk know each and every ugly part of her personal life, but she was so loud, nobody could escape her personal Mickey Mouse, trailer park drama.
I just laughed as the two guys behind the counter found something else of high priority to do, like scrubbing toilets, and excused themselves from her bellowing.
At first, I thought she must have strayed from her mental center's group outing without her meds. I was wrong. She was a passenger. Utter doom for the person that ended up sitting next to "IT."
When I finally boarded the plane, I found myself squeezing into a window seat next to another beached whale. This dude however, was very courteous, saw my discomfort and asked if I wanted to exchange seats with his mother.
Damn right I do!
Naturally, my new seat was right next to...IT! Why me? Why? Why? Why?
I'm no Stephen King, but this was sheer horror, worthy of being made into a movie, or a novel at the very least.
In a way, I guess I was blessed, as when I took MY half of MY seat, she actually moved her blubbery fat ass arms about an inch to allow me access to a seat I paid for.
Then comes the non-stop stupid ass small talk, but at a very high decible level, for all the passengers to hear.
"Are you married?' "Do you have kids?" "What do you do for living?"
All these questions while I had to sit at a 3/4 angle with my legs extending into the aisle, no thanks to Her Fatness spilling over into MY seat. That's right. A good portion of her arms, legs, gut, mammaries and hot breath were invading MY paid seat.
At that point, I wished I had a portable, Pocket Hambo to talk me off the ledge and put Hot Air Blimpo in her place. Honestly, I was about to lose it, and fortunately, the stewardesses saw my lack of comfort and offered up extra snacks and drinks.
When I politely declined, Fatso told me I should have accepted and that she would have eaten them. Duh, you think?
Luckily, it was only a one hour flight, and when we landed, I made like an NFL running back for the gate, looking for an opening, and my wife. The other passengers were very sympathetic to my ordeal and gave me a wide berth to scramble fast and far from "IT."
After claiming baggage and leaving the airport, I had Mrs. Porcus take me to the nearest liquor store for some liquid relief. I honestly would have settled for a gas station that sold anti-freeze to erase the horrors of that flight.
Moral Of The Story: If airlines refuse to charge double wide loads extra, that's fine. But then us folks of regular build ought to be discounted if we have the misfortune of enduring a flight where we are treated like packed sardines when seated next to human mastadons.
Also, when booking a flight, specify that you DO NOT want to be stuck next to a human hippo, otherwise, demand a discount, up front. It is your money after all.
Did I mention it was Alaska Airlines? At least Southwest has some nads when it comes to double and triple extra wide loads.
GOOD HELP, LIKE THIS, IS HARD TO FIND, PART II
|Okay, this one scalds my skillet.
In the previous posting, I mentioned my need for "qualified" help, and I found some help in the lovely lady pictured.
She said she would love to help The Free State Of PIG, as long as her privacy was maintained.
When I asked why, she told me her family would disown her if they found out she was associated with PIG.
When I asked why, again, she said her family thought we were pigs and I'm a good girl.
I told her, her secret was safe with me, and your family was right,we are pigs, and as far as the "good girl" stuff goes, I informed her I was way willing to change that image.
Well, someone, and I know who that someone is, followed her on her assignment to fetch me some watermelons at the Farmer's Market, breeched her privacy, and posted this picture.
Porcus is not a dictator and always gives folks the benefit of the doubt, but my edict is as follows to the person in question:
No pizza, one week.
Beer is being rationed to one case per day, also, one week.
Also, hereby sentenced to one week of either The View, or Oprah. Pick your poison.
Now, the lovely lady pictured, whose only duties were described to her is allowing Porcus to gawk at her, while she does pretty much...nothing, is distraught, and now I have to lure her back to the PIGdom.
In my quest to lure her back, I commented that those two melons in her hands, were nothing compared to the two sweet juicy fruits right behind them, under her blouse.
Anticipating either a cinder block dropped on my head, or five across the eyes after that comment, she surprised me by blushing, smiling and said she would give me a second chance.
After that I said "Great! By the way, you like fondling your melons, but how about nuts"
Needless to say, she's gone.
GOOD HELP, LIKE THIS, IS HARD TO FIND
Somebody posted a picture of the Porcus Personal Staff on Page One, and I know who the culprit is, too.
The nerve! How dare you!
I'm not a snitch or name dropper, but I can provide the initials of the dude who dropped the dime on my way personal Staff.
Does H-a-m-b-o ring a bell to anyone out there?
Just what qualified them in the first place for the coveted job of babysitting Porcus? That is a "Well, Duh" question.
The anonymity of these sweeties, for The Free State Of PIG's sake must always remain top priority.
They might not like their privacy invaded.
Crap. Now I have to recruit some new "personal assistants."
Thanks alot, pal, now I have to conduct interviews for new "personal assistants."
Ladies, if interested, you need to be informed, we are not an equal opportunity employer.
Far from it, ladies. Strict criteria and raising the bar are top priority.
However, if you can match the measurements of the ladies pictured, all you have to do is show up, and the job is yours, I'll be real busy smoking cigars, leafing through important publications like Playboy, and breaking out my tape measure, you know, to check your qualifications.
1.) Ability to serve pizza and crack open cold brews at our whim.
2.) Ability to pick up Porcus' car keys when he intentionally drops them... three times in 15 minutes.
3.) The ability to go Bruce Lee on the person looking over my shoulder, Mrs. Porcus, and protect your commanding officer, me and second in Command, Captain Hambo, at all times, and if it requires Commander Porcus to unsnap your bra, and use it to launch projectiles towards the enemy, well, Commander Porcus will happily award you with a medal, and happily pin it where it counts.
Thanks ladies. Porcus already knows none of you will be showing up, but if you happen to know a chick that loves to wash cars in her bikini, send her over.
Thanks for the mammaries, ladies.
OUT OF THE CLOSET
While attending a way left, way uppity, way trendy, avant garde art school in Los Angeles in the early 1990's, where standard issue attire was at least one body piercing and an all black wardrobe, I was all alone in an ocean of idealogical idiocy.
As a dude that fancies regular clothes and looked like a cop, I was the one (based on my appearance) made out to be an outcast.
As a dude that didn't sell out his principles to the most persuasive or up-to-the-minute cause or trend, I was mistakenly and prejudically thought of as a conservative, nazi, racist, homophobe or sexist.
As a dude that refused to be brainwashed, refused to march lockstep style into brain dead oblivion and questioned the "Cause(s) of the Day" I was prejudically branded 'insensitive' in an environment where 'sensitivity' was a prerequisite.
That is where I learned firsthand about 'tolerance.'
Words and terms like 'diversity', 'tolerance', 'multiculturalism', 'compassion', 'sexual harassment', 'date rape', ''womyn', and 'political correctness' were being warped, twisted, diluted and mindlessly parroted by a cabal of clueless wannabe's with a very false sense of self importance and phony compassion out to protest for the sake of protesting. To them, it didn't matter what the cause was, they mindlessly followed the trends.
AIDS was an "epidemic" caused by Ronald Reagan and George Bush (I didn't know they had time to have that much gay sex), the Brazilian rain forests were a top priority, dolphin safe tuna was the diet of choice for non-vegans and to top it off, the L.A. Riots started the week of my graduation and my campus was about a mile north of ground zero.
Adding insult to injury was the fact that the Clinton-Rodham's took office and were going to inflict their strain of political correctness and arrogance across our nation. Our purple mountains of majesty were being transformed into a sick tint of politically correct, pinko red that thoroughly disgusted me. Plus, they ruined a great Fleetwood Mac song along the way.
As a budding artist with practically no portfolio to speak of, I began doing some editorial cartoons that would never make the L.A. Times Op-Ed page, or any mainstream op-ed page for that matter. I had an armful of illustrations, but no venue or outlet to publish my "Too real for prime-time" body of work.
Armed with all the anger I could take, and inspired by the aforementioned recent events, I found myself at a coffee shop with a pen and napkin and began sketching a pig for a sign I was going to design. As I continued, The Lightbulb didn't just go off, it exploded with an idea. Why not create your own politically incorrect playground for like-minded artists and writers?
I immediatley went home and stayed up for days formulating an editorial policy and framework for my new project, PIG: The Politically Incorrect Gazette. I wanted this to be a forum for those with dissenting points of view, skeptics, smart-asses, free-thinkers, liberal bashers and out-and-out REAL rebels, where one's First Amendment rights to be as overtly honest, opinionated, humorous and insensitive would never be trampled. Instead it would be encouraged.
I then placed a tiny ad in the Sunday L.A. Times seeking politically incorrect artist's writer's and cartoonists for a startup publication. That ad had my P.O. box crammed everyday. Unfortunately, most of the responses were from well-meaning folks that sent in their tear sheets and published samples from Better Homes and Gardens, Field and Stream and some straight up, status quo political (Democrat/Republican) publications and causes. Of course I got some real racist crackpots as well.
These folks just did not get what I had in mind. They failed to grasp the concept and the spirit of what I was looking for. Then...it happened. I opened an envelope and was blown away by the enclosed material. Bingo! This dude get's it! I immediately contacted this dude, we met and we hit it off big time. He had ideas and suggestions that were light years beyond my initial idea. His name is XXX XXXXX, aka, Hambo. I don't know if it was destiny, a twist of fate, or the stars were all in proper alignment that day, and frankly I didn't give a rip, but that was the day IT happened.
At the time, my idea was for print medium as the internet was not was it is today. Being a starving artist with no startup capital, I began to work in my chosen field and began advancing rapidly becoming a workaholic in the process. I hadn't spoken or contacted Hambo for 7 years.
Then one day, while in between regular jobs, I was going through my PIG notes and dusted off Hambo's contact information. I called him, he remembered and we re-teamed to begin gearing PIG up for internet publication.
Neither one of us had a clue as to how to construct a website, but I had some books and taught myself the basics of web design and construction, all the while meeting with Hambo on a regular basis to discuss the content of PIG. It took a few years as we both work, but in March 2004, after much persistance, hard work and beer, PIG came out of the closet and made it's cyberspace debut.
Our first full month online netted PIG a whopping 9,700 total hits. Today, we are averaging more that 600,00 hits per month, and growing, thanks to PIGster's around the world.
Insensitive liberal bashing? As promised, we do that and much more as often as possible here at The Free State Of PIG. If you have a brain-dead, way left or way right follow-the-herd korrectnik friend, after putting them in their proper place, merely refer them to PIG. After all, friends do let friends read PIG.
We are not the cure for cancer, the second coming or an opiate for the masses. What we do is call 'em as we see 'em, plus add some attitude in the process. If only one thing you read in PIG makes you think (for yourself), laugh or both, then we consider that a job well done.
Love us, hate
us or just indifferent, I'm sure I speak for Hambo & Staff
when I say thanks for taking time out of your day to stop by PIG.
DING DONG, THE BITCH'S CAMPAIGN IS DEAD
PIGsters of the Hillary Can Take A Long Walk Off A Short Pier persuasion, your most humble publisher took great joy in removing the "Beat The Bitch" and "Kountdown To Klitocracy" banners off of Page One. Hopefully, some of you contributed to that effort.
Page One is hallowed ground indeed and my apologies for inflicting that form of visual pollution upon the PIG Faithful, but hey, if not us Free Staters, where else would you find such overtly, over the top dissenting Hillary views? Sorry if you had to break out the barf bags. My bad, but it had to be done for the overall good and preservation of our great nation.
If you think it's over and you've heard the last of her, it ain't, on several levels.
First, because O'Dumbo clinched the needed delegates, it looks like Her Majesty will be forced to continue to piggyback off of The Slickster's political clout, and name. I guess those drooling divorce attorney's will be put on hold for a while.
If you think she's going away (I wish) anytime soon, forget that notion, too. She hasn't conceded a thing, she merely "suspended" her campaign.
Second, as far as The Free State of PIG is concerned, and I will stick my neck out by stating that Hambo and Staff concur, it's one down, two to go.
We can begin with a Beat Barak, or wait, maybe a Beat Off, Barak banner, to be placed and posted on Page One. Am I aware of the sexual undertones implied? Damn right, because he is, in my opinion, a...jerk off.
Just between you and me, if I had a wife like Mrs. O'Dumbo, I would probably be very intimate with myself and probably have a hell of a right arm. But on those "last resort" nights when even the easiest female barfly's won't give you the time of night, and you leave the cocktail lounge admitting defeat, all alone, take a page from the Al Bundy playbook. Stop by the nearest convenience store and purchase a box of pushins or thumb tacks, the latest issue of Playboy, a fifth of Wild Turkey and when Hamid asks, "Paper or plastic?" go with the paper bag.
Proceed home, drink half the bottle of bourbon, get hammered, kick open the door, rip open the centerfold of the Playboy, grab a tack, stick it Mrs. Hillary's or Mrs. O'Dumbo's forehead with the centerfold covering the face, and do the husband thing. Chances are, it could be a very quick and painless two minutes.
We already know what some people are thinking, and the answer is no. We don't give a flying rip about Mr. Change And Hope's skin color, ethnicty, religion or shoes size is.
Flat out, he's a token and a novelty, and if objective criticism gives Ethnocrat$ (Je$$e, Al, Jeremiah Wright's) sensitivities and delusional sense of entitlement an emotional boo-boo because other's are critiquing his lack of a platform, policy or direction, tough toenails, race wranglers.
Do the founders of The Free State Of PIG harbor any racist, sexist attitudes? No, and you would know that if you were paying attention and reading between the lines.
Are we prejudiced? Hell yes, and you're a liar if you say you're not prejudiced. There is a huge distinction between being a racist and being prejudiced. Just to inform first year students of the PIGdom, I'll explain while you break out your crayons.
Being racist or sexist implies an inferiority upon those you dislike due to their race or gender, and a superior attitude towards others due to your race or gender.
Being prejudice is as simple as this. Were you pre-judging the person you chose as a spouse? Yes. You merely eliminated the possiblity of mating with any of the other 4 billion people that inhabit our planet by opting for your beloved.
When you go to Baskin-Robbins and choose Rocky Road over all of the othe 31 flavors, you just exercised and act of prejudice either for Rocky Road (your preference) or prejudicism against all of the other flavors.
Your favorite team? Let's say, and God help you, and you have our sympathies if it's the Kansas City Royals, or worse the Los Angeles Lakers.. Well, by simply opting for the Royals, you eliminated and prejudged either for the Royals, or against all of the other professional baseball organization.
Sorry for the digression, but Porcus can already predict that in the upcoming months leading up the Presidential elections in November, you will be hearing from all kinds of race and gender hustlers that will no doubt come out of the woodwork.
Now, once Mr. Change And Hope and his loudmouth wife are out of the picture, we can then focus on Warhorse Juan McCain. Small potatoes.
For old times sake, click the Beat The Bitch banner in the upper right portion of this column, have a good laugh, at someone else's expense, of course and stay tuned for phase two of PIG's efforts of focusing on Mr. Spare Change and Hopelessness.Sorry for the multi-subjected rant from me, but I'm really a lazy ass son-of-a-biscuit and thought I could sneak some Porcus personal philosophy and kill two birds or bitches with one stone.
I took great pleasure in 'Forking Her Majesty, because frankly she's more than done. She's stale, she's a transparent shrill, and a really rotten, carpetbagging, pantsuit wearing waste of oxygen.
Now, scamper on home, grabs some after-school milk and cookies, sharpen those crayons because a pop quiz may not be out of the question.
Until next time, I thank you for tuning in, and remember, this November don't contribute to America bending over to get Hillaried, O'Dumboed or McCained. We deserve better.
EXIT THE BITCH, ENTER THE BEAST
|In Memorium: R.I.P. Old Friend
Rest In Peace, or Reqiescat In Pace (Latin)
Well, PIGsters, my recent hiatus from The Free State of PIG is attributed to me not tending to my Piece 'O Shit MacIntosh. It took a major league dump, and I tried and tried to bring it back to life, but to no avail. It's fried. Toast. History. Why? Because of neglect on my part, probably.
I suppose in dog years, that workhorse of a computer would be well over 70 years old. I rode that thing until the hubcaps fell off and worked it to it's maximum capacity, like right into the ground, and truth be told, that machine somehow helped me 'Git - R - Done', day after day, week after week...etc.
In many ways, it was more than a computer to me. It housed my inner most PIG notes, my portfolio, resume, graphics, a little way cool porn, bookmarks from the PIG faithful, email addresses, settings, and some most important software that I used and needed to build The Free State of PIG.
But I can't complain. It served PIG and me well for many years. It helped Hambo and I forge a trail of individualism, free thought and expression and satire not really seen online before on the internet superhighway. Well, that, plus Al Gore, of course.
Hambo used to joke about my old computer as if I were dating the ugly duckling at High School, but I showed him that my "ugly duckling" or "Piece 'O Shit Mac" could crank out some cool graphics for The Free State of PIG - Steaming Loads, Sereant Pork, Hambo's Hammer, Girlie Man and Barbi Q. Ribs are among my favorite PIG graphics - and only I, your humble publisher, knew how to push the right buttons to make The Bitch perform.
I had made the switch to a PC, and I'm not going to lie. My new system is, to me, like going from an old Al Bundy Dodge, to a streamlined Corvette, complete with a bikini clad Hambo Honey sprawled on the hood. Juicy indeed. I have dubbed my new unit, The Beast, and it really does compliment PIG's War Room quite nicely.
What I'll do next is one last try at reviving my old motherboard partner in politically incorrect deeds. I'll take it up to a Mac specialist and see if there is any hope of life left, or at least burn some discs to retrieve my original files and fonts.
If the verdict is final, that it's flatlining it's way into the digital afterlife, and no hope of retrieving my files, well, it's time to grab my aluminum baseball bat and put it out of it's misery.
I commented to Hambo that while my old Mac was unplugged and taken off it's long held perch on my desk and thus relegated to a dark corner of the room status, I swear, The Bitch was staring at me, as if I had a lingering ghost lurking in my home, much like the car in Stephen King's "Christine".
Now that I have The Beast, I can't help but feel a really creepy feeling that The Bitch is stalking and watching me begin a new relationship with The Beast from it's exiled spot in the corner, much like an ex-girlfriend that finds out you're dating someone else one day after you break up. Spooky.
Does size matter? In this case, hell yes. It really is a Beast of a computer, capacity wise, plus the size of the monitor allows me to read files without my reading glasses.
So PIGster's, we're entering a new era of the PIGdom. Hambo will no longer have to hear me moan, groan, whine or snivel about my Piece 'O Shit Mac being in the shop, on the fritz, freezing up or getting moody on me, and conversely, I won't have to hear his smart-ass remarks about my computer.
A moment of silence from the PIG Faithful would be much appreciated before I do the final deed. It will probably be a Kleenex moment as it's going hurt me more than it will hurt The Bitch.
Always remember this: The Free State Of PIG was created and constructed with a Non-P.C. unit.
Goodbye Bitch, I bid you a fond farewell, you served me and The Free State Of PIG well, and Hello Beast, Porcus is back in the game.
HESTON GONE, OLD BETSY LIVES ON!
Socially conscious and historically and culturally way ahead of the rest of his peers, Heston had a way of articulately telling his adversaries to kick rocks, pound sand and pretty much screw themselves with such a quiet flair and touch of class, that you never heard his critics even try to start something with him ever again.
Hear those crickets making their noise over in Hollywood? That's the only sound you'll hear from the likes of Michael Moore, George Clooney, Ice-T, Rosie, Spike Lee and the rest of the lip-flapping crowd he managed to silence while he was still alive. Even in death, his critics are silenced and it's too late for insincere, pathetic posthumous apologies.
Heston always championed the importance of our Second Amendment rights, contending that without them there would be no First Amendment.
From Al Gore to Michael "Maggot" Moore, Heston was TOO REAL.
From Time-Warner and Ice-t to Harvard Law School, again, he proved TOO REAL.
To show you just how TOO REAL Heston was, even while battling Alzheimer's late in life, these examples just might say it all for Heston the gentleman:
Heston was way more than another dime-a-dozen Hollywood pretty boy, and as hard as Porcus may try to describe Heston as a head and shoulders above the rest type of dude in the context of the Pitchfork, I'll shut the hell up and provide this link for those of you, like me, with short attention spans to his Harvard speech and let his own words do the talking:
Porcus Prediction: When you get finished reading this, you'll realize the timelessness of those words. Important now. Important 100 years from now. Because of his stature, Heston could get away with saying "politically incorrect' things most mere mortals would be tarred and feathered for saying, if not thinking, publicly.
With his death, Heston has passed the torch in the spirit of all Old Betsy's across our fruited plains to the rest of us, ever reminding us to stick to our guns, even until the day someone tries to hijack your rights and guns from YOUR cold, dead hands.
SNIPER FIRE? YOU AIN'T SEEN NOTHING YET, BITCH!
| So, Her Royal Highness hit another
snag on her road to Her Coronation. Boo- Freaking-Hoo.
It's no secret, here at the Free State Of PIG, that PIG's founder, me, created PIG and was majorly inspired by the Clinton-Rodham's commandeering of the White House, back in 1991.
I'm sitting here, in PIG's War Room, where even Hambo needs special clearance to enter at his own risk, recalling Her Highness apologizing for a made up story about her being a victim of Bosnian sniper fire.
I expect that real stinky load of shit from a pathological, opportunistic, thinly veiled whore like her. What makes me pissed, and has me scratching my head is, Bosnian's are either, A, bad marksmen, or B, the Bosnian's didn't put a bounty high enough to justify the cost and waste of a bullet, thus leaving alleged sniper to say, "Fuck it."
Talk about a missed opportunity. Oh well. If Her Highness thinks she's dodged real sniper's bullets, she really hasn't seen anything, yet. Just wait, as her campaign progresses, and she sticks her fake facade of a face further and further out, she will suffer and incur the wrath of not only the Free State Of PIG, but the likes of Porcus, Hambo, Staff, and other pundits.
Keep it up, Bitch, the American public just may give you enough rope to hang yourself with.
PIGster's, come November, don't say we didn't warn you, and I'll expand.
During Bill & Hillary's Two-For-One felonious occupation of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, they somehow managed to garner nothing but comtempt from our military, specifically, Air Force One, and Marine One. Why? Because they themselves offered up nothing but disrespect for our military themselves.
Enough of that. This "Thing" running for the highest office in the land, is as Rush Limbaugh states, is nothing but "Symbolism over substance." If you have a brother, sister, aunt, uncle, in-law or friend serving in any branch of the Armed Forces, please think before casting you vote. Do you want a military that is armed with state of the art weaponry, but no ammo?
That's one part of what you'll get when you cast your vote for Hitlery.
Please, help Porcus in his quest to remove the "Beat The Bitch" and "Kountdown To Klitocracy" banners from your beloved Free State Of PIG site. By doing so, you would also be contributing to what's left of my sanity.
Hambo & Staff give you thanks in advance.
P.S. Did Porcus neglect to mention how he's getting all cyliders fired up and getting ready for a real "Beat The Bitch" campaign? If he didn't just keep tuning in.
Help Porcus in his quest to Keep America Beautiful by Beating The Bitch. Thanks.
LUCKY CHARMS, MY ASS!
"We'll take the niggers and the chinks but we don't want the Irish..."
- Road Boss Taggart (Slim Pickens) Blazing Saddles, 1974
That, McPIGsters, was the prevailing attitude in America during our formative years.
My grandfather can also attest to the " Help Wanted - No Irish Need Apply" signs he would encounter while seeking work.
And furthermore all you Wannabee Irish For A Day, let me remind you that...
That SLAP sound you just heard was Ma McPorcus delivering an open handed reminder to shut the hell up and never, ever become a "professional" Irishman.
Shame on me. I know just what she means, and Hambo is usually on my case about that crap too.
I was going go into a mini Terror 'O The Green and Bite Me, I'm Irish tirade that we do every St. Pat's Day, wondering what's so great or lucky about being born Irish.
I decided against it. If I started whining about the rotten history the Irish had, I would be no better than real "Professional" Whiners, Ethnocrats, Colonistas, Gendercrats and other "Victim" groups. Can anyone say Je$$e, Inc.?
The difference between Irish and all the rest is that Irish have never demanded reparations of any kind, ever.
Can you imagine an Irish version of a victim advocacy group? It would probably be called something like NAAGSS - National Association for the Advancement of Gallic, Shamrocked Sots.
Am I proud to be Irish? Why? I had as much to do with my heritage as an alligator does with it's.
Whether you're Irish or Eskimo, you really do have to admire folks that can take life's lumps and move on, and the Irish certainly have no monopoly on taking crap, they just happened to be good at it and have learned to laugh it off.
Enough of that. St. Patrick's Day is supposed to be a festive day for everyone to eat, drink, pee or puke something green, except I've always had a problem with green beer.
Green freaking beer? Get real. Cold is more like it, and alcohol content, not color is what matters most, unless it's a Guinness.
As usual, this St. Patrick's Day enjoy your brewskies, corned beef and cabbage, parades, police checkpioints, drunk tank adventures, etc. My only advise. Don't accept rides home from bloated Irishmen in Speedo's named Kennedy.
TYPO'Z & GRAMATIKAL ERRERS
how much time do some of you have on your hands to be counting our
typo's, grammatical and punctuation no-no's. From time to time,
some of our readers have offered some helpful, constructive criticism
by pointing out blatantly overt scribbling screw ups on our part.
For that, we we say thanks and correct the problem, most of the
Loyal PIGster from Day One, and our biggest fan for life, Gunny John, recently brought to our attention a Top Story in which both Hambo and myself overlooked a boatload of typo's and errors, and he was correct in taking us to task. The tone of his email to us also implied (in a most friendly way) that he was probably wondering just what the hell were we smoking this week.
What Gunny didn't realize is that he wasn't the first to fall prey to our typo trick. See, we do that on purpose, and for those of you that you were unaware, and all of you are, I'll explain.
We have a set limit of typo's allotted per week to us under PIG's "Under The Influence" editorial clause, which, in a nutshell means either Hambo, myself, or both are usually buzzed from too much caffeine or ice cold brewskies, and a set amount of typo's per week are designated as the norm. Truth be told, it's usually me that's guilty, but don't tell Hambo, he'll accuse me of not sharing my beer with him.
To us, our allotted typo's are like cell-phone rollover minutes. If we don't use 'em, we loose 'em. This week we were way short of our typo/grammatical/punctuation quota throughout the rest of PIG, so we had to dump them somewhere, and this week, it was our Top Story.
Sorry we have to inflict that form of nuisance on you, but seriously, we really are aware of our grammatical errors and typo's. I prefer to let the little ones stand for a couple of reasons.
One, is that it demonstrates to our reader(s) that we are just regular dudes, not a couple of corporate suits barking orders from a sterile executive suite or ramrodding strict editorial policy to Staff or each other.
The other reason is that it's bound to get the attention of some anal-retentive humor-phobe, that will never see the humor between the lines and wants to find us at fault for something, anything, and I humbly admit, that since we're right most of the time in the messages we try to convey, all they've got on us are little tiny micro typo's.
What that does is it allows them to feel superior to us for about a nano-second, thinking we (PIG) are a couple of gun-racked illiterates. Once they start nitpicking us by pointing out our obvious mistakes, they then begin the predictable name calling; Racist, sexist, homophobe, xenophobe, etc. We've heard it all from these sanctimonious assholes.
For the way over-the-top Korrectniks who think they've put us in our place, we simply hold them up to ridicule by posting their holier than thou piss-ant rants in our PIGPEN/Forum, complete with a Hambo ass-ripping rebuttal.
We really have received such messages from assorted dorks with nothing better to do than to go over every syllable of PIG with their Korrectly honed fine-tooth comb and put us under their microscope. To them, we simply and politely say, "Good luck, get a life and get lost."
To the rest of you PIGsters like Gunny John still residing on planet earth that put your pants on one leg at a time, please don't be shy in pointing out our obvious mistakes. We do appreciate our readers' participation and input.
Thanks Gunny, for correcting us with kindness. we owe you one.
SENSE OF HUMOR
In a recent posting in Hambo's Hammer, my Brother In Arms, Hambo was questioning if I had a sense of humor about myself by posting a picture of Mrs. Porcus and me going for a leisurely stroll.
Now, as witnessed by the photo to the right, it's as plain as day that I'm a pretty progressive dude when it comes to women. Not the type to relegate my woman to the kitchen, I get her out at least 3 times a day, in between her performing wifely stuff like opening my beer bottles with her fangs, bailing me out of the local drunk tank, changing flat tires on busy Interstates, throwing buckets of hot water between myself and any female that comes within sniffing distance. Yep, she's marked her territory alright.
Truth is, the photo to the right has it all backwards. I'm the one that ought to be on the leash and put in cheque. She's the one that should have a pooper scooper and plastic bag to pick up my leavin's and leftovers.
Hambo asked in his posting, "What about the man himself?" I'll tell you.
Whenever I want a good laugh, I look no further than the mirror, especially when I'm in my birthday suit. That's not even funny, that's disgusting! So disgusting, I wish I could take showers in a wet suit so can spare myself from that tragic sight.
I'm living proof God has a sense of humor, as according to the Bible, He created me in his own image. The day I was put on the production line, God must have been dipping into His homegrown stash of foliage. If only God & Co. spent 5 extra minutes with their R&D Dept.
For added amusement, I also stare at the ever growing mountain of unpaid bills that I'm saving up for the clambake bonfire.
Do I like my brewskies ice cold and neverending? Damn right. Right to the point of being ordered to lay off the stuff, like forever, as I've spilled more beer than most have drank in their lifetime. You could sink a battleship with the amount of liquid refreshments I've downed. That's a fact, folks.
Will the lack of sudsy sedatives hinder my sense of humor? No, I'll still be blasting korrectniks through PIG. I'll just be thirsty when I do it. The Anhauser-Busch stock value has probably plummeted now that I no longer "invest" in their fine products on a regular basis.
Can I take a joke? Bring it on and make it a good one! My life and myself is such a joke, Jay Leno would have a field day. Beware! As much as I can take a joke, I can dish a few out myself, so watch it.
Have I ever wet myself from laughing too hard...as an adult? Yep, and I loved it.
Have I ever walked into work with a dangling booger hanging out of my nose? Yep. And what made that even funnier to me, was that co-workers saw it and didn't tell me for a while. (That's what made me laugh so hard as an adult I wet myself.)
Have I ever laughed so hard in the company of others I couldn't control that fart that was dying to escape. Yep and Double Yep.
Have I ever got so drunk I blacked out only to awake in a strange bed with a woman that resembled a mastadon? No, but I had a friend who had a friend who knew a guy that...
Have I ever slipped on a banana peel? What do you think I am, a klutz?
If you thought those examples were funny, well guess what? Porcus already knows that if you're reading this and laughing at me, you're also laughing at yourself, because we've all done the same things. Back at ya, huh?
Self-deprecating humor is one thing, but never overtly invite others to make you the constant butt of their barbs just so you can be accepted. We all knew someone like that in grade school. They grow up to be either buffoons, prime targets for a (late, great) Rodney Dangerfield joke, or filthy rich comedians.
PIGster's, it would be mighty hypocritical of me not to laugh at myself as much as possible, otherwise I'll turn into the very type of person PIG, Porcus and Hambo pummels - a strident, sissified stick-in-the-mud Korrectnik whose mere myopic existence reeks of self-importance, utterly void of anything resembling...gasp,,,HUMOR.
PIGster's, if you can't laugh at yourself, maybe you should read PIG more often, and read between the lines.
Thank you for playing with Porcus today. I have to go now. Mrs. Porcus saw that photo and will commence ass-kicking...NOW.
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blind as a bat