Address given by new Head of Sheestees Evils Committee,  Raul Foolia

Ladies…and I suppose Gentlemen:  I give you righteous news from the four corners of the glove.

KASHEESTEES has arisen from the ashes of KASHEESTEES to become………KASHEESTEES!!!

Alright, alright calm down. Basically we have a few new lineup changes in our administrarion, which means that certain Derrick Fingers will no longer sicken us with their insubordination and time-wasting activities such as playing FreeCell in the office till one in the morning. In short, bring me the head of Derrick Van Peeples, AKA John Boinkin, I want a search of every outhouse henhouse cathouse doghouse bloghouse roundhouse blah blah blah yackety smackety

cool, onto new business: here’s your new board or directors for this year Nineteen Hundred and Ninety Nine.

Thank you ladies. You should see these guys when the work day is done! They really like to cut loose! I have a picture in my phone somewhere, hang on:

Anyways, there will be much more to report in a timely, businesslike fashion. But we’re already happy to report that our first group objective is completed and you’re welcome.

Transmission goodnight.

Stage 2:

Then you don’t hear from me for months like the unabomber. Damn that guy had class.

I try to emulate him in all things I do, and I think I succeed.

I’ll try to tone down the rage and tone up the actual postings.

Sorry for being so tied up all the time.

Used to be that politics meant something in the city of angels, and more importanly, the city of Derricks. Politicians were so honest that when they died they turned into statues:

Sarah Dope and our fathers used to MEAN something, Derricks. But look where our principles and good things and happy things have gotten us: at the height of this nation’s power, when nothing could possible go wrong, something went wrong in the shape and form of a beautiful black man who looks beautiful. ALL HAIL NEW KING, GIVE TRIBUTE:

I suppose

Change is for people who don’t have deteriorating health conditions. Hope is for simpletons. I mean yes, you won, but you didn’t have to kill Johnathon McCain!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! zomgzomgzomg

Palin took the bullet! Oh NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOES

But there are still enemies out there, Obamas. The path is most heinous, Ted, that leads back from Hell. Most bogus.

Hail Satan, this country is clear.

Always remember, it could be worse, we could have a dude whose whole body looks like this:

Goodnight, America.

Humina humina humina……..anyway!

Yesterday I went skinny dipping!!!! In my nudeness!!!! In Japan!!!! A few weeks ago!!!! Wanna see? It’s not the best picture of me, but oh well.

Oh, that was a great day. I got in touch with my spirit animal, perfected my side stroke. Of course, there were some bad moments as well:

but you roll with the punches, don’t you? Of course you do, Joshua. Anyway, I’m teaching my girlfriend the ways of the zombie apocapoo as we speak. Lady’s hot, but lady needs to work on her aim. Knowamean, blood?

Of course you fucking do. See you later, Joshua.

The epicness of how funny people find her is only comparable to how funny they find themselves. The OMG factor is near critical mass.

OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG

Not that she’s not an obscene idiot, but is making fun of an idiot really a good strategy? I mean, the last one got elected. Also, she’s a vice presidential candidate= who cares.

Also, reason number three it’s not funny is because it’s too easy.

meant to symbolize sex

Yay!!! Right?

Wrong again, gentles. Wrong again. You’re so gullible. Turns out in the process of creating this book on the internet-webs, I fel into an oft-forgtten about deadly trap-door, WHOOBS

THE INTERNET WEBS HATES ME!!!! AND I HATE IT!!!!! We’re going to cage match soon. Me and the internet will get it on in a no gloves-no love pay-per-view event.

eskimo kissies

Of course, I reacted like I always do: by calling forth Viking gods of kickassery!!!!!

In other words, getting hulked. But I soon calmed down (once I realized the internet had won.) Then I vented my murderous Dahmer-like urges into the ancient artform of Ka-ra-o-ke.

The book will happen someday. In the mean time, won’t you join me?

Let us now party.

It’s been so long, I’ve kind of forgotten how to do this!!! OMG OMG

Rock on, over and out.

Picture me rollin’.

Holy shit! Party men supreme Justin and Dustin are here! Man, that cat Dustin sure knows how to lay the smackdown on some parties. Look at him: He’s uther uckin out of control!!!!!!!

Come on, Roger, wake up! WAKE UP!!!!! Oh my god he’s not waking up!!!!

Fuggit. Let’s dance!!!!!!

Uh! Uh-uh! Umf! Uh-duh-guh-buh! How do you like them moves? I just blasted you off the dance floor, look at you:

Know why we’re getting lit to shit this week? Why we’re getting party-rageous? Why there’s four on the floor and more in store? (some kid in high school told me that’s how many kegs you should have at your party. he’s in jail, probably.) It’s not because we like it. And it’s not because we are American educators, shaping the minds of the next generation. It’s because we’re afraid of the demon otter. And if you don’t party continuously, I mean all through the week, the demon otter will posess your soul. Shit, get down here he comes!

Quick, Justin, get on the water slide so that you look like you’re partying.  You do NOT want to get posessed.

Damnit……too late.

R.I.P. Dustin Partydude AKA Sarah Dope

Then:

Now:

Let’s UCKING GET HIM!!!!!

Natch. Punk is dead. End program.

But once my balls and stomach had peeled off I could return to my daily routine, which includes drinking broskis, watching headbangers ball and occasionally writing a dissertation on Paul Auster.

When suddenly I was visited by an angel, a fucking awesome beautiful angel who had a message for me:

No, not that, tell me something I don’t know!

No, that’s not it. I don’t usually shop there. What the fuck did that Angel say that filled me with God’s Good News and made me all bright and shiny like an audience member on Oprah?

I can’t remember. I was TOTALLY tweaking on Angel Dust. (Irony.) I was FREAKING OUT!

But rest assured, John Pauls, I will figure out today, or maybe like early tomorrow. This week I will definitely figure out what that fucking angel said to me, and then it’s your ass, Charlton, you hear me?

In the meantime, the danse macabre continues….

The circle of life.