Category Archives: Opinions

Ten Reasons Why Ted Bundy is Innoncent

By Caron Ann Boone

As you may know I am the ex-wife of the infamous Ted Bundy. I know what you all think I’m crazy, but I am not so please, whoever you are, stop sending psychiatrists to my home. It is very important that I clear my late ex-husband’s name, that is why I am making this top ten list. Here are the top ten reasons why Ted Bundy is innocent.

  1. He is just to damn adorable, how could anyone who can be played by Zac Efron be a killer.
  2. He defended himself in court, only an idiot would defend themselves if they were guilty.
  3. He was so friendly, he could get anyone to like him and trust him.
  4. He told me he didn’t do it.
  5. He never wanted to have sex so how could he possibly have done those things to those girls with no sex drive?
  6. When we did have sex it wasn’t much, so how could he have been so vicious?
  7. The trailer for “Extremely Wicked, Shockingly evil, and vile” makes him look super cool so how could he possibly be a murderous monster?
  8. They forced him to admit it before his death.

 

That’s all I could think of, but he is innocent!!!

Open Letter: If AOC Is A True Democratic Socialist, Then Why Hasn’t She Redistributed Horny DMs Into MY Inbox?

By Ben Shapiro

 

Dearest Congresswoman Ocasio-Cortez,

 

I know you, Alexandria. I know that in spite of my best efforts, you shall continually cease to publicly acknowledge my numerous @’s, right swipes, requests for debate, or our mutually exchanged niceties in the hallway. I even went insofar as ordering my editorial board at the Daily Wire to disseminate 210 articles about you over this past year.

 

Anywho, I am at a loss of what to do anymore. I could press you about your ongoing critique against capitalism (despite owning an iPhone and living in a house and Venezuela), your advocacy of environmentalism (despite exhaling carbon dioxide emissions), or your bigoted criticism of “attacking” sewage-dwelling Palestinian children with white phosphorus. Not that you would ascertain the logical science, Alexandria, but phosphorus is essential for life. You could put even put it on your enchiladas!

 

But I’m not going to do that, Miss Ocasio-Cortez. Instead, as a true rationalist would, I shall finally enunciate the quiet part loud. Since the dawn of your 2018 Campaign, I have been persistent in blessing your private Twitter and Instagram inboxes with the warmest regards, cordial invitations to reach across the aisle, and photographic encapsulations of my mastodonic 5’4”, 116 pound frame. Indeed, Alexandria, for all your supposed “socialist” rhetoric about “seizing the means of production” and “redistribution of wealth”, you sure are reluctant to redistribute salacious direct messages in return.

 

Why, Alexandria? I am a traditionalist married man; you may not align with my values and I may not align with your own Latin American values, but please. We may not agree on a lot, Miss Ocasio-Cortez, but like your bold conquistador forefather Hernan, I would not mind to allow you to establish dominion over my sovereign private property. I may not be an elected official, Alexandra, but I commiserate with your hectic, busy work schedule.

 

However, if we both find mutual free time within the inner sanctum of this Valentine’s Month or beyond, I implore you to look into your heart and hold a civil discussion with me nearby. Or, if you prefer, we could schedule a rendezvous around D.C. or the Bronx.

 

Please, Alexandria. The free marketplace of ideas cannot be exchanged if it is simply left on “read”. Thank you.

 

Sincerely,

 

Benjamin Aaron Shapiro

PC Culture is Offensive to Xbox Gamers

By Wayne Kerr

Listen up, cocksuckers, my name’s Wayne and I’m 14 years old, and I’ve been kicking ass in Call of Duty since you were playing Pokemon in your diapers. I’m here to tell you one thing, this sissy PC shit is fucking garbo. I’m not talking about the “PC masterrace” idiots, although I’m sure those fucks are on it too, I’m talking about those libcucks trying to take away our freedom of speech by telling us what we can and can’t say online. Well let me tell you all something, you snowflakes have to get out of your safe spaces and stop being little bitches. Man the fuck up and stop whining about being called a f*g when you’re being a shit teammate, all that happens is you sound like a girly bitch cocksucker.

And it’s not just over Xbox either! I called out some bitch over twitter for being a tranny and people got mad at me for being offensive! I’m just saying it like it is, but nooooooo, these millennials have to get all triggered at it. I have to say, it really makes me feel bad when people yell at me when they think I do something wrong, even though it’s their fault for being such sensitive fannies!

Oh my god, speaking of sensitive fannies, I was playing Fallout 76 and this twink started flirting with me, told me he “liked my character model”. Well my friend and I started attacking this gay shit, just some good old fun, you know? Didn’t mean anything by it, we just found this gay fuck and decided to beat him around a bit. The fucker reported us for harassment! This is why I can’t stand the gays, they just can’t take a joke. It’s not just Fallout 76 either, whenever I tell a teammate that they’re sucking, they call me toxic and report me, like I’M the problem. If you can’t take shit like that, you shouldn’t be playing video games. I grew up talking shit over Call of Duty, and I took just as much as I gave out, and look at me! I’m fine, and you whiny babies should be too if you can just grow the fuck up and stop being such cuck pussy bitches.

Santa is Real, Because He Touched My Penis

The year was 1986, it was Christmas eve and I could not wait to see what sort of presents I had in store for me this Christmas. I had asked Santa for the new Nintendo Entertainment system, I was so excited. I had just turned 16 so I was a lot more mature and thoughtful about meeting Santa that night.

I had several cups of coffee to avoid going to sleep at my usual 8 PM bedtime and I waited by the fireplace for Santa to show up. My mom kept trying to convince me that Santa wasn’t real, but I didn’t believe her. She even showed me this gifts she got for me, but I knew there was no way they weren’t from Santa.

I waited by the fireplace all night until at around 11 PM I suddenly hear a knock on the door. I went to answer it and there he was. Santa Claus standing right in front of me. I was speechless. He then said, “well kid, you gonna let me?” I was too amazed to answer, so I just moved to the side and he walked in. What was a bit strange was he was not wearing his usual attire. He was dressed in rubber boots, which I guess is similar to what he normally wears, a dark green plaid shirt, a pair of dirty jeans, I guess from all the chimney climbing, and his classic red hat and coat, which also looked a bit dirty for the same reason. Besides for this different look, I could tell it was definitely Santa and assumed he had the bag of toys waiting outside.

As he settled himself on the couch he began eating the cookies and milk and told me they were delicious. And the first words I spoke to him were, “I made them, I’m glad you liked them.” Then he said, “Well, boy it seems there are a lot of things about you that I like” and he grabbed me by my penis. I was both frightened and honored by what had just happened. I could feel his Christmas magic pulsing from my ball up through my entire body.

I then heard my mother scream. She had proceeded to call the cops and got Santa arrested. Santa is now in prison and the government covered it up. So the reason Santa No longer comes down your chimney at night is not because he does not exist it is because of my stupid mom. My mom keeps telling me it was not Santa, but I still don’t talk to her.

Point/Counter Point: cloacas and gauges

Point: Cloacas are better than vaginas
By Mandarin Fuck

It seems like these days all anyone does is fuck each other silly in every possible orifice. It is frankly disgusting and hedonistic. What happened to the good old days when a man only fucked a woman through a sheet and planted his seed in her baby-hole. You didn’t even look at the va-jay-jay (G-d’s given word for the female reproductive organ) lest your eyes melt and your innocence be stripped away leaving you a hull of a man. That’s why I say that cloacas are the far superior organ for fuckin’.

Now hear me out, I know what you’re thinking: doesn’t that make you even more sinful for committing bestiality? And to that I say: Heck no! If G– didn’t want men fucking birds he wouldn’t have made them have one little hole that perfectly fits the male peepee (not —’s word, but it’s more fun to say). And need I say birds aren’t too bad on the eyes, either….

To quote the late great Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds”:- one G——————d, one hole.

 

Counterpoint: I got gauges to have more holes
By Rob N. Lobes

I know what people think when they look at me. “Godless, masochistic, freakshow, bad at Super Mario Strikers,” they say to themselves. And some of those things may be true. They silently judge me while most people have GAUGES IN THEIR HEART! But at least I know what I’m about. I didn’t get gauges for pain- I got them for pleasure. Now I have two more orifices to use for fuckin’.

It happens to many couples: You reach that stage in the bedroom where you just get tired of raw dogging the same 5 holes over and over. It happened to my boyfriend and I 3 months in. I mean how many combinations can you really make in one night? Sure you can spice things up in other ways, like revealing your inner feelings for each other so that the sex can be a magical consummation of your relationship and you can achieve true love, or like biting. But this option just seems so much more authentic. It’s like we opened up a whole new world. People say it’s unnatural, but is it? I mean, if you think about it, people have a million holes if you include all your pores. If my penis was a little smaller, I would be able to fuck those too. All I ask is that people keep open minds and open ears to this new innovation in fornication.