Shit. There is no other word to describe what I feel about this now. I had hoped that nobody would comment this time around and that Jason would give up this stupid blog. At one time this was a great blog. Now... Jesus-f'ing-Christ!! LATKES?!! How boring is that? Hey Jason, how about some home economics tips? *arrrgh*
Fuck Jason. We are the entertainment. I say we mutiny and overtake the ship. Throw Jason overboard. This blog is officially ours. And Jason, don't ever come fucking back until you have something better to talk about than the damn latkes.
Idiots! We threw Jason overboard before we got the keys to the blog. Now we are doomed to drift aimlessly in cyber-space for eons and eons. (As if 1 eon wasn't enough!)
Good going guys. Now Jason is like Davey Jones in the Pirates of the Caribean...the walking dead. I suggest we steer the ship to open sea and find Jason's walking ghost who is probably covered in slimy barnacles by now and pretty pissed off. Then we need to tie him up and steal the keys. Unless anyone has a smarter plan?
You can't tie up a ghost. They're dead....the rope goes right through the vapors...tried it, never works. You need some sort of bargaining chip. Like kidnap his mother and hold her for ransom for the keys. Either that, or voodoo. Voodoo works on the dead.
Swamp girl would know voo-doo. Swamp girl, come back! Jason didn't mean it to be a one night stand in the marshes. He actually liked the three-way with the gator. Okay, we'll cut you a stake in the blog if you do your vood-doo hoo-doo on Jason and get us the keys.
Listen up maggots. There has been entirely too much whining in the comments section of this blog and not enough blogging about travel, as G*d had intended. So instead of making your stupid little jokes get to work on Jason. Raise some gas money for him. Get him fired from his job and back on the road in his krautwagon. Now drop and give me 50! Sound off like you got a pair.
If we didn't have pictures of Latkes to look at every day, we wouldn't be whining. Even on a radio salary, one can afford a decent picture of the ocean in L.A. I think this is called lazy. Jason is just plain too lazy to give a damn about any of us. So why not just try and rearrange the way Jason's genetics are instead?
Are you saying we should slaughter Jason's family? That's a tad harsh I'd say. Why not just put the lad's nuts in a bench vice and charge a buck a turn?
Whoa...people, you're getting a little intense here. Just a tad bit too much caffeine in this blog. Leave Jason's balls out of this. He needs the one he has.
Jason is just surprised as hell that he has any friends at this point, considering his blog has gone to shit. In fact, I'm quite sure Jason is saying, "why now? why are they writing now?!" Trust me, this has been a huge ego thing for ole Jason. And if he's any kind of decent human being he'd pop his head in to thank us for the entertainment.
Is this all you have to do, rag on Jason. Why don't you all get a life. At least he has a job and a place to go to each day, unlike you all. Latkes are a Jewish family friend for the holidays, you never leave them out of the mix. Happy New Year to you all!
Latke (noun) Etymology: Yiddish, pancake, from Ukrainian oladka. A potato pancake not unlike what is served at McDonalds. Like the French with their vichyssoise, the Jews needed to call this boring potato based dish by a catchy name in order to gain acceptance. Modern Jewish children see the eating of Latkes as a rite of passage and often try to trick gentile children into eating them at school. Beispiel: Hiram: Hey Joey, I'll trade you these delicious Latkes for your crummy cheeseburger. Joey: I thought cheeseburgers weren't kosher. Hiram: It's OK if a Rabbi doesn't see you eat them.
Biggs... Earth to Biggs, come in please. Ah, Biggs if you're done with your zero-G calisthenics in the space station with that female Cosmonaut you are needed back here on earth. Biggs? Biggs come in please... G*ddamnit Biggs we are on national Television... quit horseing around up there and land the shuttle. We need you to fix Jason's blog. Over... Houston out.
Tell me about the orgasim you get when a cowboy sticks a cattle prod up your ass and stimulates your prostrate gland. It is a good thing or is it a bad thing>
39 comments:
Janella and I lite last night candles together. Hope your holidays are as great as ours.
Uncle J
Hey Brother J, come on down and have some of those latkes with us, they actually looked and tasted as good as they look on the screen.
Brother P
Whatever happened to the man who was conquering the seven seas? Where the hell is he? Come back, Jason. Your minions need you.
He is conquering latkes now.
Shit. There is no other word to describe what I feel about this now. I had hoped that nobody would comment this time around and that Jason would give up this stupid blog. At one time this was a great blog. Now... Jesus-f'ing-Christ!! LATKES?!! How boring is that? Hey Jason, how about some home economics tips?
*arrrgh*
I with you angry-dude. This is gayier than Richard Simmons French Poodle. Why do people never let go when it is time?
I miss the Reagan years.
Fuck Jason. We are the entertainment. I say we mutiny and overtake the ship. Throw Jason overboard. This blog is officially ours. And Jason, don't ever come fucking back until you have something better to talk about than the damn latkes.
Yeah! Let's throw Jason to the Argonauts!
Somebody get a rope.
TOGA! TOGA! TOGA! Let's rip one for the gipper!
Beat More Science High!
You won the game,
you think you're hot,
but we'll win the fight,
in the parking lot!
Aargh! Avast ye maties, we be talking like pirates here or ye be walking the plank.
Let's have at that rum now.
Idiots! We threw Jason overboard before we got the keys to the blog. Now we are doomed to drift aimlessly in cyber-space for eons and eons. (As if 1 eon wasn't enough!)
Good going guys. Now Jason is like Davey Jones in the Pirates of the Caribean...the walking dead. I suggest we steer the ship to open sea and find Jason's walking ghost who is probably covered in slimy barnacles by now and pretty pissed off. Then we need to tie him up and steal the keys. Unless anyone has a smarter plan?
You can't tie up a ghost. They're dead....the rope goes right through the vapors...tried it, never works. You need some sort of bargaining chip. Like kidnap his mother and hold her for ransom for the keys. Either that, or voodoo. Voodoo works on the dead.
OH! OH! I know Voodoo people.
Somebody Call Scully Ely in New Orleans. I bet she could help!
Get Biggs. That guy can fix anything. Hey Mr. Biggs, can you hack this blog so we can run it the way we want without that pantywaist Jason?
Swamp girl would know voo-doo. Swamp girl, come back! Jason didn't mean it to be a one night stand in the marshes. He actually liked the three-way with the gator. Okay, we'll cut you a stake in the blog if you do your vood-doo hoo-doo on Jason and get us the keys.
Listen up maggots.
There has been entirely too much whining in the comments section of this blog and not enough blogging about travel, as G*d had intended. So instead of making your stupid little jokes get to work on Jason. Raise some gas money for him. Get him fired from his job and back on the road in his krautwagon.
Now drop and give me 50!
Sound off like you got a pair.
If we didn't have pictures of Latkes to look at every day, we wouldn't be whining. Even on a radio salary, one can afford a decent picture of the ocean in L.A. I think this is called lazy. Jason is just plain too lazy to give a damn about any of us. So why not just try and rearrange the way Jason's genetics are instead?
Are you saying we should slaughter Jason's family? That's a tad harsh I'd say. Why not just put the lad's nuts in a bench vice and charge a buck a turn?
Whoa...people, you're getting a little intense here. Just a tad bit too much caffeine in this blog. Leave Jason's balls out of this. He needs the one he has.
Him and the late Tupac.
Funny how Tupac ended up as a onepac.
Happy New Year to all the Random ramblers randomly rambling.
New Years Resolution: To get Jason off his lazy ass to captain this blog.
Jason, wherever you are, hope you're as high as I am...and if not, too fucking bad.
Drugs are bad. I get high on the lord.
I get high with a little help from my friends...
Can't we all get along?
What does it always have to end up in threats?
I think Jason is laughing his ass off with all of us bickering.
Jason is just surprised as hell that he has any friends at this point, considering his blog has gone to shit. In fact, I'm quite sure Jason is saying, "why now? why are they writing now?!" Trust me, this has been a huge ego thing for ole Jason. And if he's any kind of decent human being he'd pop his head in to thank us for the entertainment.
Yeah! Let him pop his head up so we can play whack-a-mole. That would be fun.
Is this all you have to do, rag on Jason. Why don't you all get a life. At least he has a job and a place to go to each day, unlike you all. Latkes are a Jewish family friend for the holidays, you never leave them out of the mix. Happy New Year to you all!
Oh dear! Now we have been properly chastized. I feel so ashamed. How can we ever make this up to the lad?
(Without having to resort to using a ballpeen hammer on his gonads.)
Me, I don't figure that writing news copy for some sleazeball radio station in Gloss Angeles is a good job... or even honest work.
And yes, since I hit the lotto for 28 Million bucks, this is pretty much all I have to do each day.
Gung Hay Fat Choy little boy.
What in the hell are Latkes? They look like Tater-Tots that someone sat on.
Latke (noun) Etymology: Yiddish, pancake, from Ukrainian oladka. A potato pancake not unlike what is served at McDonalds. Like the French with their vichyssoise, the Jews needed to call this boring potato based dish by a catchy name in order to gain acceptance. Modern Jewish children see the eating of Latkes as a rite of passage and often try to trick gentile children into eating them at school.
Beispiel:
Hiram: Hey Joey, I'll trade you these delicious Latkes for your crummy cheeseburger.
Joey: I thought cheeseburgers weren't kosher.
Hiram: It's OK if a Rabbi doesn't see you eat them.
Biggs... Earth to Biggs, come in please. Ah, Biggs if you're done with your zero-G calisthenics in the space station with that female Cosmonaut you are needed back here on earth.
Biggs? Biggs come in please... G*ddamnit Biggs we are on national Television... quit horseing around up there and land the shuttle. We need you to fix Jason's blog.
Over...
Houston out.
That's enough outta you guys.
Leave this blog alone.
Jason has to live with the shame and doesn't need all the razzing.
Some of you people need a good horsewhipping... and just as soon as I find a horse light enough to pick up I'll be doing the whipping.
Oh what's the use...
Can we get a video of the last moments of this Blog?
Allahakbar!
Tell me about the orgasim you get when a cowboy sticks a cattle prod up your ass and stimulates your prostrate gland. It is a good thing or is it a bad thing>
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