See, you ignorant crackers – THIS, this is what happens when you fuck a hamburger!!!




HORRIBLE BIRTH DEFECTS!!!

Now go dick your sister, so the Republicans can maintain their voter base.

The Katsuhiko Machida Report






It is been a period of deep sadness in our great nation. Haruki Tanaka’s passing was a profound blow to the endeavor of great reportage and although I am not worthy of assuming his duty, I am MORE than worthy of dissecting the bloated beast that is America.

What is the latest crime committed by its “leader”? Does it matter? Only to the world, but little or not at all to the American people. With impunity that exceeds any actions ever taken by Emperor Hirohito, the Bush-who-did-not-vomit-on-our Prime Minister, piles one audacious and catastrophic measure upon another.

Who cares?
“Not I”, say fatty butter-loving American Hillybillys. “Give me my stretchy pants, basketball shoes (even though the mere act of tying the laces causes me to break into a profuse sweat), Big Mac Whoppers, diabetic diet, Wal-Mart “savings”, shotguns, ridiculous pick up trucks and freedom from responsible global citizenry”.

And who shall pay for this childish selfishness? All of us. And that is a shame. It is analogous to punishing an entire classroom for the immaturity of one student. It is -- eh -- what is that? A powerful wind from nowhere? Hurricane level...as if created by gigantic wings.
It can only mean one thing – MOTHRA!!!
GIIIYEEEE!!!!!
GIIIYEEEE!!!!!
GIIIYEEEE!!!!!

From the Mailbag...
Dear Sir/Madam,

Let me tell you about the harm of a hippy. A hippy buys too much beans. Beans leads to fartulence. Or severe stomach upset. Then, violent bowel movements! Oh, you harmful hippy! Hippy’s like to eat pancakes too. They go to the International House of Pancakes to eat pancakes. Then they put excessive syrup on it. And that leads to violent bowel movements! Oh, Harmful Hippy! Hippy's eat a lot of ground beef too. And everyone knows what that means – violent number two’s.
Once, when I was at NPR, where I work as a janitor, this hippy walked into the bathroom as I was cleaning a stall and he just grabbed some toilet paper and blew his nose. I know what he was planning to do! Hippy! I stopped him from having a violent turd tornado.

And that is the harm of a hippy.

I once saw a sign that said, “Hippies for Hope”. Stupid Hippy’s don’t even know how to spell their own name. Now don’t get me started about Commy’s. Commy’s pee all over the place.

Sincerely,
Stan Pajina



Dear Sir/Madam
Me again.
This time, it’s about headbands and not hippy’s. Hate headbands. Hate them.
Once, in 1968, I was in line at a Safeway store in downtown San Francisco. I lived in Petaluma then, which is about 60 miles north of San Francisco. Anyway, so there I am in the Safeway, waiting in line to pay for some feminine product --for my wife, ok -- and there’s this hippy in front of me. And he’s wearing this headband. Woman. Probably buying tampons or panties. Anyway, I’m searching my pockets for change and I accidentally drop my wife’s feminine product, and this headband hippy bends over, picks them up, and handing them to me says, “Here you go, ma’am”. I said, “WHAT?!?”. He says, “Here you go, man”. Stupid hippy. Messing with me. He’s the woman, with that headband. And he was wearing this button on his hippy vest that said, “Hippies for Hope”. Stupid hippy didn’t even know how to spell his own name.

Sincerely,
Stan Pajina