Thursday, May 21, 2009

Te-Te-Te-Teeerrrrrooorist BLOG!
Terrorism Blows (Things up.)

When we hear the word "Terrorism" what do we think of? 9/11? Osama "The Recycling Bin" Laden? Foreign Languages? Weird curry foods and "Gyros"? Not ending sentences with prepositions because some old stink bomb whore teacher in fucking high school English class thought it was classless and then she humiliated you in front of your peers by making you spell receive on the white board knowing that you were too tired to remember the "I" before "E" except after mother fucking "C" rule? Sure, sounds like terrorism to me.

But some would argue that the word "terrorism" is a constantly changing word that varies due to perspective
(Sounds like something a terrorist would say). In fact there is a very common saying that states exactly this. It goes: "one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter". Or represented mathematically:
f(x + h) = (x + h)² + 1 = x² + 2xh + h² + 1.
Where "x" represents the universal truth: "all love pizza", and "h" is merely a function of variable change due extra toppings and its relationship to the second universal truth represented by:
f(x + h)
Which is: "all children hate their parents when made to eat their veggies".

Moving on...

It is safe to say that word terrorism is certainly subjective to the winds of perspective...or so I thought. You see there is a lot in this world that is foreign to me, countries I haven't seen, foods I haven't tasted, races of nocturnal dwarfish humans that only prey on the weak and wounded at night leaving no trace of their existence and further more plotting to murder the masterminds behind the show "Little People Big World" which has, frankly, made them look like little bitches....I haven't seen this either.

But recently I have seen the face of terrorism. It hides in plain sight. It is American. It tempts our children on the television then haunts their nightmares. It is extremely profitable, stealing millions of American dollars, and I can see no plausible end.

I'm talking about the Saw movies.



Jesus Christ.

First of all, I must admit that I have not seen all the Saw movies. I know, I know. What in god's name have I been doing? I did see the first one, and don't get me wrong it was ok. Danny Glover, the guy from The Princess Bride, ankle sawing, some terminally ill man was laying on the ground the whole movie?...It all seemed fine at the time. How did they get Danny Glover? I don't know....people need money and they stopped making Lethal Weapons.

But from watching that new trailer it seems that the terminally ill albino man is still alive. This is baffling. It seems that he is still, and has been for six movies, gathering humans who for one reason or the other are depressed and not living their lives to the fullest. You would think that in the time span that these movies have covered he would have been doing something more along the lines of a Bucket List type plot, where, in his last few years on Earth, he accomplished some of the goals he hadn't had the time to do when he was nice and healthy and probably had more color in his face and hair. Most people with terminal illness look for one last hooker to fuck, maybe try anal, and leave other peoples problems out of their own lives, as that might cause more stress than the actually disease that is eating away his body from the inside. I'm usually not one to cast the first stone, but this seems ridiculous.

But....These movies are consistently a box office success. So, although it's probably not the case, there could be a chance the Saw films contain some genuine elements of a good movie. Let's examine further.

Saw: 2 fellas kidnapped, trapped in a room. Family held by mysterious murderer. Trapped fellas have to play a game to determines who lives and who dies. Gore. Lesson learned. Twist = old man on floor the whole time was not just napping, but in fact planned the whole thing despite having a terminal illness.

Saw II: The killer Jigsaw is back at his games! More people kidnapped. More fucking games. People have to decide whether to play in these games that result in other peoples death in order to see someone in their family again. Albino napping man from first movie is still sick.

Saw III: Doctor kidnapped to treat still alive albino cracker. Albino gringo wants to "finish" his games. Turns out to be bullshit as 3 more movies are made after this one. I'm sure something happens with his family and people die.

Saw IV: I dunno.

Saw V: Probably some odd combination of the previous movies has something to do with this one.

Saw VI: White dude still alive somehow. Probably some blindsiding twist about paralleling story lines, family, games, and death. Note: Danny Glover never returns.

These movies fucking suck. It seems as though it doesn't matter which order you watch the Saw films, because they are all the same exact fucking thing. I'd go as far to say that Bill Gates cooked up some secret software that consumes our own human feces and shits out Saw movies. It is probably a vending machine in Japan that reads "Please insert 4 dumps of shit" then you insert your 4 dumps, and out pops a nice 100 page script including one villain, one protagonist, one twist that might have been nudged at during the film, and of course a nice CD-ROM of suspenseful, climax building, stock music that usually lets you know "The film is ending now. Please leave, we have your money."

And that's where the terrorism strikes. Let's look at the concept of Terrorism. In so many words, terrorism is that which uses fear to gain profit for the ones projecting that fear. The Saw movies use bad dialogue, repetition, and our own shit, just as other terrorists use car bombs, rocket launchers, and our own planes. These Saw Terrorists' only goal is take our money as they collect our shit dumps and feed them to their script shitting robots.

We have to take a stand and either stop shitting into the sewers where the Saw movie producers live and reproduce only to collect our shit and in the end our money, or start illegally pirating this saw movies and re-collecting our lost money.

PS. Please don't tell Michael Moore about this. He'll ruin it for us all.






Monday, May 4, 2009

THE NUWAVE OVEN!!
https://www.nuwaveoven.com/spark/index.php

A phone call between the nuwave oven saleslady and myself.

video

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

A MURDER MYSTERY
The Louie LaFleur Story, Very Scary...

Louie's Journal:

Day One:
It was a cold Sunday night in March. I had just written a blog posting a clever, yet also hilarious portion of a script I shit out a day earlier. My brain hurt from working so hard that I made my way into the kitchen for some salty snacks, but there were none. I thought to myself,
"Wait...didn't I just stock up on delicious salty snacks yesterday....had I already eaten my rations of salty cheese crackers?...in just one day...I suspect foul play...(Insert your own goldfish puns here!)"
I heard a ghoulish, hideous shriek scratching outside the window, and I decided to grant my curious eyes a peek. Hmm...Nothing there must have been the wind or a passing car playing AC/DC. I let down the blinds and retreated to my room, but then I heard the horrible shriek again. This time it was coming from below me....in the basement. My mind got the best of me and started for the basem...

Day Two:
Sorry, Journal... I had to cut it off early last night. Just as I was heading for the basement my bladder reminded me that it needed to empty itself then after that I got distracted on the Internet watching episodes of COPS and fell asleep. I had completely forgotten about the sound until I checked my journal tonight, but I have not lost my curious edge....No tonight I will seek to find what made that noise....On the lighter side journal, I have purchased more salty snacks...seems this time I shall be prepared. I went with these tasty pretzel twis......hold on....THERE IT IS AGAIN!...the noise journal...it's back. I can hear it below me now....

Day Three:
Dammit Journal! It's happened again! I had made it into the basement to investigate the noise when all of a sudden...out of nowhere...piles of dirty laundry lay on the ground. I had completely forgotten to finish my laundry from earlier in the week, so I finished it then and the entire investigation slipped my mind! RATS!!! I won't forget this time journal....and let me tell you why...You see today I took a nap outside in my parking lot and woke up here in the basement, but I had this terrible dream of an old dirty man approaching me. He walked up, disturbing my sleep no less, and asked,
"My dear boy, Have you any change to spare?"
To which I replied,
"I'm sleeping outside in a parking lot you dumb, motherfucker. Does it look like I have any change for your old-man diapers? The ones that you shit yourself in everyday? I bet you shit yourself all the time."
Journal, this must have angered the old man because he pulled out a knife and then he sta....Wait a second.....THE NOISE....It's back....Oh my god.....Journal....It is AC/DC!! The entire band (or what's left of them) is laying dead in their own cold blood. They're throats have been cut.....there is a trail of blood... wait Journal, the blood leads back to me. Oh no, Journal! There is a bloody knife in my left hand.....I think I have slit AC/DC's throats.....What have I done....I mean sure I hate their music....but enough to kill? Hold on......they're moving....Oh my god they are alive....well then who's blood is this? It's my blood! It was no dream...That old man stabbed me to death and this is hell. Hell is being in my basement with AC/DC for eternity.......I REPEAT.....Hell, the worst possible place and situation imaginable for me, is being in my basement with the band AC/DC for eternity. No fire, or demons torturing me....Just AC/DC.....just hanging out with AC/DC is my hell.

The devil is cunning.


Sunday, March 29, 2009

The following is part 1 of a script that I am writing and preforming at the talent show my house is having. Just to set you up...it's about Hamlet and Lord Voldemort killed his dad.


H A M L E T 2 1 9 9: OMELET of DEATH: Omelegeddon


INT. KITCHEN--DAY

HAMLET sits at a table eating a delicious looking omelet while drinking what seems to be coffee and reading the paper. A poor man enters. He seems to be quite poor. He sits across from HAMLET.

Poorman

Master Hamlet?

Hamlet

What is it, you street trash?

POORMAN

Well, Master Hamlet, you're eating an omelet? Wasn't your father poisoned by an omelet just a few months ago by the Dark Lord Voldemort and that rat Carmen San Diego?

HAMLET does not respond.

POORMAN

Sorry, sir.

The POORMAN stands from the table and walks towards the door. Just as he gets grabs the doorknob, HAMLET speaks.

HAMLET

They say you gotta crack few eggs if you want to make an omelet, and I'm making a big fucking omelet...an omelet of death.

CUT TO:

INT. DEN--DAY

The Dark LORD VOLDEMORT sits at his throne awaiting his new partner in evil, CARMEN SAN DIEGO. One of LORD VOLDEMORT's servants stands by his side. VOLDEMORT is getting impatient waiting for her.

LORD VOLDEMORT

Where in the world is this bitch?

SERVANT

My Lord, we must be patient. She will be a royal addition to our team of villainy.

LORD VOLDEMORT

SILENCE! You fool! How dare you speak to the Dark Lord like this? CRUCIO!!!

The Dark Lord points his wand at the servant who screams in pain.

SERVANT

(pointing)

Lord, She arrives! It is Carmen San Diego!

CARMEN SAN DIEGO enters from stage left.

CARMEN SAN DIEGO

Sorry for my lateness, Lord Voldemort. The gumshoes were hot on my trail, but yet again, I have escaped them.

LORD VOLDEMORT

What news do you bring?

CARMEN SAN DIEGO

It is Hamlet, sir. He plans his revenge in Denmark. He knows it was you who poisoned his father with the Denver Omelet..or should I say...DEATHVER OMELET!

Everyone shares a laugh.

LORD VOLDEMORT

Well, if it is vengeance that young Prince Hamlet seeks, it will only be death that he finds.

CARMEN SAN DIEGO

My Lord, there is more.

LORD VOLDEMORT

Go on.

CARMEN SAN DIEGO

Sir, Legolas, an elf of the Woodland Realm rides to meet Prince Hamlet. One of my spies believes an alliance has been made.

LORD VOLDEMORT

Interesting....very interesting.

CUT TO:

INT. HAMLET's CASTLE--DAY

HAMLET sits at a table, plotting his revenge on the Dark Lord. He seems frustrated and out of ideas. A servant enters.

SERVANT

Prince Hamlet, Legolas, an elf of the Woodland Realm has arrived and wishes to speak with you.

HAMLET

What business does an elf have in Denmark?

SERVANT

Shall I send him away, my lord?

HAMLET

No. Let him in.

Legolas enters.

Legolas

Heeeeeey guys.

SERVANT

Prince Hamlet, this is Legolas.

HAMLET

Legolas, What brings you to Denmark?

LEGOLAS

I...uh...oh yeah. (Pulls a piece of paper out of his back pocket and reads) I, Legolas, come to offer my service in any effort to defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort, the man that murdered my father with the killing curse.

HAMLET

It seems we have something in common, elf.

LEGOLAS

You can just call me Legolas, I don't know why you people insist on referring to us by species. It sounds ridiculous..I don't call you..

HAMLET

(interrupting Legolas)

Tomorrow we march on Voldemort's castle! I shall challenge him to a duel, and defeated, I shall leave him in a pool.....of his own blood...


TO BE CONTINUED...

Monday, March 9, 2009

LaFleur on LaFleur: The LaFleur Chronicles: "The Interview"

VS.

I recently I had the chance to sit down with local hero and teen heartthrob, Louie LaFleur. This is that interview:

LaFleur: Mr. LaFleur. Nice to see you again.

LaFleur: Oh of course, always got time for a fan. (chuckles then coughs into his hand)

LaFleur: Oh...I guess I'll just get started with my questions then.
If your parents were to confess to the most shocking thing you can imagine, what would it be?

LaFleur: Wow, that's a tough one.....uh....probably it would be....Well I think that if my parents ever were to confess the most shocking thing I could imagine it would be that they are not actually my parents, but, in fact I am my own parents and I used my overly developed, begotten consciousness to create not only a body for myself in the physical world, but also an unique overly developed soul in the spirit world. But I mean if I had actually done that how would it be shocking to me, you know? Unless I tricked myself into forgetting all of it to live a normal human life. So I guess if they knew all of that and then confessed it to me, yeah, I'd be shocked.

LaFleur: Interesting points none the less. Next question: What one thing would you find the hardest about being in prison?

LaFleur: The hardest thing I would find about being in prison would actually be being in the prison. I've been told that no prison can hold me, and that's true. Ever since I was a young boy, I've been escaping things far more terrifying then prisons. Just last week I escaped a horrible death by injecting my self with the Ebola virus and then curing it 30 minutes later.

LaFleur: That's just fascinating, Mr. LaFleur. What’s the best thing to inherit other than money?

LaFleur: Gold or ancient runes, jewels. Not genetic diseases or mutations unless they actually were going to help me in some sort of super hero way. If a genetic mutation were to help me then yeah, I'd like to inherit that, of course. It's just usually not the case. Also, rubies.

LaFleur: What book has most touched your soul?

LaFleur: Actually on an archaeological dig in an ancient Egyptian tomb, I found a book that instructed the reader on how to physically find and touch your own soul. After reading about 15 or so pages of it, I was actually able to touch my own soul with my fingertips. I recommend it.

LaFleur: Where would you consider constructing a small altar in your house or yard?

LaFleur: I wouldn't. I would construct and large altar with my own hands and then destroy it because it would be the pinnacle of human beauty.

LaFleur: Ok, Mr. LaFleur this is my last question for this interview. If you had a guardian angel, what would you name it?

LaFleur: I do have a guardian angel. His name is Kaldore, and I created him out of paper mache then much like the children story of Pinocchio, he came to life wielding powers I had never seen. One day his powers got the best of him and greed corrupted his mind. Therefore, I killed him and buried the hardened body in sacred ground where guardian angels have no power over this world.



Thursday, February 26, 2009

About a month ago on a day no more ordinary than this one, I, Louie LaFleur, shit my pants.

I am so unfamiliar with the feeling that I wasn't quite sure it happened. I mean as a child you hear horror stories of people uncontrollably losing their bowels and the humiliation that ensues, but you could only think that God would do this to the most cruel of humans. Surely this sort of social punishment is only reserved for child rapists and Kid Rock fans, but the coarse, brown truth of it is that it could happen to any of us. I am Louie LaFleur, and I shit my pants.

The following is an excerpt taken from my moment to moment diary that I keep everyday in case moments like this actually happen:


January 22, 2009 - (New Year's Resolution: Don't shit my pants)


10:30 A.M. - I woke up to my phone alarm (Billie Myers - Kiss the Rain). Rolling out of bed, I thought to myself "Today is going to be a shitty day."

10:45 A.M. - I brushed my teeth and thought I would check my email. Nothing too important. I replied to an email from Nic Cage about meeting for lunch. Something about being in the next National Treasure...whatever. I think im going to make some coffee.

11:01 A.M. - Hmm..this coffee is making my stomach feel werid...anyways I am watching Drew Carey host The Price is Right. Some old bitch named Linda just won some Gold Bond lotion, and she seemed moderatley excited about it. I guess she must have dry skin issues or some bullshit. I don't get old people. They smell and they shit their pants all the time. It's disgusting.

11:20 A.M. - Man, today's journal entries are getting tedious. Nothing is happening today. Nothing out of the ordinary that is........

11:35 A.M. - 12:03 P.M. - Nap

12:05 P.M. - I heard someone on my front porch. I am going to check it out.

12:08 P.M. - It was the mail-man. He just dropped off some bills. I better check 'em out. Waste and water: $120.93. Internet: $46.99. Gas: $145.87. Electricity: $15,129.86. WHAT THE FUCK?!

12:09 P.M. - 12:18 P.M. - Unconscious

12:20 P.M. - Journal, You are not going to believe the dream I just had. I dreamt that I was having this perfectly ordinary day when all of a sudden I got this huge fucking electricity bill. Upon seeing the bill I shit my pants and then fainted to the floor. It's really quite odd because I woke up on the floor here and.....oh wait a second, Journal....I think there is a full sized shit in my pants. Holy christ, Journal.....I shit my pants. That wasn't a dream at all. In reality, I lost control of my bowels and ruined this pair of pants by shitting into them. Hold on Journal, let me check and see if, like the shit in my pants, that bill is also reality.

Fuck.


"Please Pay" "Thank you!" At least you haven't forgot your manners, you fucking sadists.

Dear Un-named electric company,
I hope you shit your pants when you get this:

Bill From Louie LaFleur-

1 pair of pants: $12.99

Emotional Trauma from Shitting Said Pants: $8.99

Please Pay
Total: $21.98 Thank You!

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Dear Louie,

Since even before the ancient Egyptians, Cats and human beings have interacted with one another almost on a symbiotic level. Now I'm not saying that it has alway
s been great between cats and humans, of course there are going to be examples of terrible relationships as there always is, but for the most part, it has been quite common to see a cat and his or her owner getting along and spreading joy in each other's lives.

That's how I thought things were going to go for us.

At first, you started out as a great owner, you fed me, kept a roof over my head, hell, you even tossed a ball around at me thinking I actually enjoyed that shit. You were trying you
r best, and you know what? That's all that fucking counts. We cats know a good thing when we see it (not paying rent, free food, and you literally pick my piss and shit up out of a box of pebbled clay with your own hands). Sure we'll chase a ball around, fuck, it seems to make you all pretty happy, and if you're happy, life is usually much easier for us.

But god dammit...

Cats can only take so much, man. I guess, for me, it's just the blatant ignorance. You'd think the species that mapped the human genome and birthed the Lord of the Ring series wouldn't be so fucking stupid. Obviously, that's too much to assume. Do walk up to a man speaking Russian and coo to him like a new born baby because you can't understand a word he's saying? NO? Then why on god's green fucking earth do you find it o.k. to murmur that bull shit in my ears? Have you any idea how much better my hearing is then yours? Did I randomly pop out of some woman's expecting vagina into the street? Then don't treat me like one of your brain-dead offspring!


But still...I mean if it was just the baby talk I could probably handle it. Let's not kid ourselves the economy fucking blows right now. I ain't finding no job.

But it's not just the baby noises is it? Oh, you don't know what else you could be doing to piss me off, do you shit-for-brains? Well let me set up another social scenario where something is terribly wrong, but you seem to think its right as rain:

Roommate number 1: Oh hey, Roommate number 2! Where's Louie?

Roommate number 2: Well, jeez, now that you think of it I haven't seen Louie in quite a while.

(bells jingling)

Roommate Number 2: Oh wait, I hear him. He must be taking a shit because I can hear the bell I forcefully attached around his neck while he struggled to escape from my cold hands coming from the box he shits in. Actually, I can see him shitting right now, and I often watch him shit into a box. It's almost as if I enjoy it. Yes, I do enjoy it.

(end mother fucking scene)


Really, Louie, I honestly took the time to put my self in your being. I said forget the baby talk, let me just try and understand this one thing. This one thing that is so far beyond anything I would ever do to anyone else because I am not a sick fuck.

Louie, I tried.

I don't know what chemical imbalance god fucked up in your brain, but attaching a bell to someone for the sole purpose of knowing where she is at all times is fucking psychotic. They should lock away pervs like you forever. I am not even going to comment on how you sometimes watch me use the restroom. Get help. You are fucking disgusting. You are going to die alone.

I'm not sorry for any of this, and if it doesn't change around here....I'm going to beat the shit out of you.

x o x o,
Majesty (your cat)

p.s. Thanks for the stupid fucking name, dickhole.