"My Stomach Hurts" By TONY RICH PROJECT

Uuhggh...
Dealing with liberals, those freely associating, mental midgets.  

You cannot outright hit them, can't just kill them; so what's to do?
Listen to them, their stupidity?  We've tried that, it doesn't work.

They want to kill unborn babies, they do not want to execute convicted killers;  they welcome the illegal immigrants into the country, knowing that they will drive down wages for low-educated natives; they want gun control, they want to ban weapons; they welcome sodomites into their arena of trust.

I don't invite them over to my house.  I can still do that, for now.  Wonder how long until that will be politically incorrect and frowned upon?

every man the world over, has gone thru this dilemna: another boy you once loved versus your male instinct:

http://www.tuvido.com/the-first-love/

back when I was 9 or 10 years old, during deer season, i slept  in a tent with a guy who was 24, a grad student at OSU in Stillwater, that weekend in november.  he was my only boyfriend. he made aggressive love to me, those nights, in a tent in the woods. apparently with my own father's approval, since my father chose to sleep with other boys, too.
i will never know or remember his name, but I remember the rest. i remember crying when he broke camp and went away, forever

i do not endorse, nor partake in this male-homo-bonding thingie, these days, but i don't/won't deny it, nor will i denigrate it-- it is just a part of experiencing, growing up as a male with a big dick~

i can appreciate how older men like me, now, can and should show younger boys what their sex equipment can do, and how and when those things wake up:  i just do not recommend that lifestyle as the whole, or the entirety of a man's life at all.  things will be screwed up~

does that even make sense?

getting the fok out of the U.S for awhile. Should be exciting~!

Off to greener pastures, greener mountains up in Nova Scotia for two weeks, where I will be doin' some fishing, some scouting around, and th' wife and me will taste the local fare. in raincoats.

Want to know what else we're doing?

Leticia and I will be a lab rats.
At Dalhousie University' Medical school.
That is the Main Street reason that we are headed to Canada; to try and get pregnant by way of a needle into my reluctant scrotum, then perfectly combined with her egg,
and hopefully, their expertise, to produce an offspring, a gift from God.

I'm hardened, steeled against further pain now.  if I were president, if i were president,

oh~!  the american muzzies, and the american lefties would sure hate me

because i believe in wholesale death to anyone who doesn't believe the same as me.
0 no, malcontent;;; you don't mean that

the hell i don't.  get outta my sight, my country, my nation, you base, self-centered bastards.

i'll assign planes to take you to any destination, and if over the oceans, ram you there nose first.
get it?  i hate you, i hate most of you.

numb is best

i'm drinking again, too much for my own good, to much for my own God,
thanks to the loss of my bestestest friend ever.

i will never, ever be the same as i was,

My son,
the list of people, mostly males, whom I've thought were my best friends seems to be endless.

--that statement, in and of itself, should be disturbing enough.

my last Best Friend Forever, will be my last.  
losing you 
is constant pain to the very core.

I had long ago hardened my heart against friendship and against love, but my last  BFF found a way to sneak into my heart, for a too-short while, and annihilated me first with the degree of his friendship, his love, then again just a week ago, with the degree of his departure from our bond.

from the first line above, read 'i've been through this before.' however never to this extent/depth.

my heart healed well with time THEN.  i don't think that it will do so this time. i welcome death with zeal now, without my beloved friend.  my best friend was the one, the one who got me through prostate cancer with his devotion.  only 18 months ago. where have you gone, son?

where have you gone, son? what did i do that was so terrible, what did i do so suddenly to 
cancel out years and years of our granite, steel-friendship/love between us?

you wiped out our bond, son/friend, not me... but i only want 
to know from you, from your heart 
which i know so damn well, WHY?  maybe i did not know your heart as well as i hoped, sir.

we am living in pain and in bewilderment. at your sudden indifference. not like you used to be.
a "friend" would not inflict such pain, and therefore i must ask you, 

were we ever friends, despite your words, my words, our words,   ?
wth, i know in my heart that we WERE once bestestestest of friends, and family.


 what has happened?


what do i do with my memories of you, of us, of our, of we, of me and you and you and me,
if you intend that we are not friendly, not family, no more?

you've shot me in the heart, my son/friend, yet i live.  i would have asked you to be the one person i would want to execute me, if that were my judgement;;;
part parts of me, want to shoot you now, in part parts of you,
as suddenly as you did me, and as without notice

but i, being the better man in this duo, 
would never duo that tuo yuo.
have a nice life, whatever...................................

FS HO

Here's to Margaret Gipson, an old whore, and mother of three illegitimate moron boys.

Margaret Gipson's personal indulgences into random sex with nameless men are not in my personal memory banks, however, it is totally evident that each moron son (3) is the offspring of a different man, based upon his looks.

Mararet herself is hideous to look at::  One might think that her three sons are triplets, since it IS VERY UNLIKELY that she had sex with a desperate man more than once.

The landlady of 'The Indian Mound' Trailer Park, on Cavanaugh Road, Fort Smith, Arkansas, Ms. Gipson is regarded as the head of the Gestapo there.

A close friend of mine who used to live there, confides to me, and thus to all, that Ms. Gipson would regularly sit on her front porch, her legs spread wide, fingering her distended vulva,  between thighs the size of 55-gallon barrels.

Her three idiot sons living there also, could do no more salient work in life than mow lawns,
and so they found much livelihood inside mommy's trailer park setting.

ARE U KIDDING ME ?

Daffy Rules

daffy duck fans, it is your time to collect this pair nike dunk daffy duck high tops shoes now.

The quantity of the pair daffy duck sb dunks is limited.  $78.79

I am so mature

(sung to the tune "Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer",
 as recorded by Gene Autry)

Please don't call him an ape 
or a hairy chimpanzee
He's the nation's sensation 
since JohnBenet Ramsey
Just look and you will find 
the baboon with the big red behind.

Randolph the Red assed Baboon 
(Baboon)
Had a very shiny Bum 
(like a light bulb)
and if you ever saw it 
(saw it)
You would wet your pants and run 
(Like a fraidy cat)

All of the other monkeys 
(monkeys)
Used to laugh and call him names 
(like neon ass)
They never let poor Randolph 
(Randolph) 
join in any monkey games 
(like monopoly)

Then one foggy Christmas Eve
The Anti Claus came to say
Randolph with your ass so bright
Won't you be my sleigh's tail light

Then how the Monkey's loved him 
(loved him)
And they shouted out with Glee 
(Whee)
Randolph the Red assed baboon 
(baboon)
Keep your ass downwind from me...
Keep your ass downwiinnnd ... 
from me~!

lovingly lifted from 'Ground Zero with Clyde Lewis' Christmas Show