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Welcome to paradise!   
11:26am 31/03/2005
  Damn, bitch, couldn't you wait ONE MORE DAY?!

You so owe me $50, Schiavo.

It's gonna be a double-time fuckin' BLOWOUT 'Welcome to Eternity' party tonight for Terr and Johnnie. As soon as Strom's done lynchin' down on the fourth layer, I'm puttin' his wrinkled ass on balloon duty. That's right.

Once more, bring on da bitchez an' h0z.
-13- beat my meat
Like a rolling stoner.   
02:38pm 29/03/2005
  Oooh, I'm long overdue for an update.

It's hard to type when you're in a hardcore drug-haze for 3 and a half weeks, though, let me tell you.

So, yeah, Hunter S. Thompson gets here and Leary and Keith Moon are all, "it's about time, motherfucker! You're one stubborn bastard, you know that?" because, apparently, they'd bribed some of Satan's minions to invade Gonzo boy's thoughts and dreams with some 'shoot yourself! Seriously! You know you want to!' bullshit, like, two years ago and it finally sunk in, I guess, which is pretty awesome.

Of course, they immediately pull out the 'cid and it's like a non-stop party, right? OMG. Hell is already a pretty surreal place, so only the truly mentally stable can handle Hell + acid trip. I credit my low-carb diet for my magical he-man brain power.

Speaking of which, Julia Child (who, by the way, is looking goooooood ever since she took my advice and dropped the carbs) and I are working on preparing a delicious meat-filled feast for one Miss terrischiavo, who is due here any moment (I laid down $50 on April 1 in the pool we've got going down here), 'cause you KNOW bitch is gonna be hungry! Ahaha.

Anyway, I should sign off--got a tee time with Bob Hope I have to make.

Haha, just kidding, I'm totally gonna go do more drugs. Seacrest, out!

Oh, P.S. -- the_1_true_god could you email me? I so wanna borrow your pimpin' black pin-stiped suit for the soiree we're planning, but it's not like I can come gank it from your closet since I'm banned from heaven and all. Thanks!
-18- beat my meat
Carb Reich.   
01:17pm 18/02/2005
  Surely by now you've heard of grainpower.org, seen their advertisements, or noticed the steady decline in availability of my low-carb, magical products and the sudden influx of fatties walking all slow in front of me on the damn sidewalk, omfg MOVE!!! Some of us have places to BE!! You know? Seriously.

Anyway, I liken grainpower's masterful propaganda to Hitler and his Third Reich. Nazi bread cult bastards.

In case a fat carb-eating fatty blocked your view of the giant billboard with a picture of a head in profile with a stupid pretzel where its brain should be, allow me to enlighten you:

If I didn't know him better, I'd say this was the work of The Devil himself.

Grains = Hitler.

More counter-propaganda behind the cut.Collapse )
-4- beat my meat
Marlon, I can understand you even less with your mouth full of mashed potatoes. Ew.   
11:40am 03/12/2004
  It's been fairly quiet here in the celebrity wing of Hell.

Satan gave everyone a break from having their genitals coated with honey then introduced to a hoard of fireants and whatnot for Thanksgiving, which was pretty cool of him.

We had an amazing low-carb feast. A huge turkey - roasted over the shrieking, flaming heads of the iniquitous - was the centerpiece of the meal. And of course, it was all followed up by my lucious Atk1nz low-carb pumpkin pie with a crunchy walnut crust.

Those fucking lard-assed philistines Yasser AraFAT and Marlon Brando insisted on having their goddamn carb-laden rolls and corn and mashed potatoes, though. I mean, it's like, shut up, Yasser, since when do they even have a Thanksgiving in "Palestine"? Oh, that's right, they don't. Bitch.

So, we made them sit at the kiddie table with super-zionist Ronald Reagan, HAHAHAHA! Boy, Arafat sure got his towel in a bunch over that one.

Well, that's all for now! I think I'm gonna go get some R&R before someone else annoying dies and ruins the sweet, sweet peace down here.
-6- beat my meat
02:34pm 18/11/2004
  Uh oh, Strom learned to use photoshop.


Oh, it's on now, you dried-up crusty ass KKK dragon master bastard. I'm gonna kick your ass as soon as you're done giggling like a little girl. 'Oooo, I made a picture of R0b3rt falling down on the icy sidewalk, I'm sooooo cool and creative and technologically advanced!'

-4- beat my meat
ODB = One Dipfucked Bore   
12:35pm 18/11/2004
  So, it turns out that "ODB" is neither Old, nor Dirty, nor is he a Bastard. In fact, he's really, really boring. And a pussy.

All he's wanted to do since getting here is to sip on his goddamn herbal tea (and not even the Long Island kind--which is bad anyway, carbs.) and read his fucking eastern philosophy books and have civilized conversations with Beethoven - that deaf-ass, white wigged nancy - regarding the subtle differences between an 'Allegro' and an 'Allegretto' tempo.

Um, ODB? How about I allegretto you right in your Hara-Shiva, you bland motherfucker!?

The Bhagavad Gita and fucking Moonlight Sonata?? Where's the ganj? Where the bitchez and hoz?!

AGH. Anyway, I guess I'll go commiserate with Tupac and the fat guy who used to date Li'l Kim. Don't worry, we'll po' one out on the ground for you, ODB. You are truly dead to us.
-7- beat my meat
10:10am 15/11/2004
  O.D.B. IS HERE!%&#

Bring on da bitchez and hoes.
-20- beat my meat
No way!!   
12:34pm 12/11/2004
  Big news today in the den of pain and sorrow everlasting.

We got another celebrity. No, no, I'm not talking about Arafat. I'm talking Christopher. Fucking. Reeve. Apparently, he pissed The Big Guy off last night and got thrown right out of Heaven, reality-TV style.

I know!

So, this morning, about 10am HST, Satan and I were enjoying some pleasant conversation, sipping coffee sweetened with Splenda, and poking dirty, baby-killing hippies in the eye...when who should come rollin' up but the fuckin' Black Fox himself. Needless to say, we were both pretty stunned to see him.

Satan was like, "Christopher Reeve?! What-the-Earth are you doing here? I thought you were practically canonized."

So, Reeve rolls over this big pile of greasy, hemp wearing, mama's boy hippies - which was pretty awesome - to sit near us and spin his harrowing tale.

The way Reeve tells it, he was smokin' a doob' with Jesus on the balcony of his $3M high rise, and they started having this philosophical discussion about Jesus vs. Superman. Jesus was listing all of the great miracles He'd performed while on Earth, and Reeve cut Him off (!) to say that he really didn't think walking on water was all that cool, and he knows He's the Son of God and all, but c'mon. He's no Superman.

Jesus: "Well, yes, you intervened in a few crimes, rescued this reporter girl fifty-five different ways, schooled Lex Luther-- it's all very impressive. But, my son, I healed the sick. I multiplied fishes and loaves to feed a host of hungry people. I turned water to wine. I rose from the dead!"

Reeve just smirked. "Yeah. But can you fly?"

Oooh, man, did that piss archangel Gabriel off, because without even blinking he picked Chris up and punted his wheelchair ass right down here into the abyss. HAHAHA!

Satan and I sure had a good laugh at his expense. Reeve was trying all hard not to cry, but after about five minutes of Satan and I pissing ourselves in hysterics, he burst into tears. Satan and I stopped laughing and looked at eachother. After a moment, I frowned and put my arm around Reeve's shoulder, and was like 'Aww, I'm sorry Chris. I didn't mean to upset you...here, let the good d0kt0r make it better.'

And then I sucker punched him in the ear and told him to suck it up and quit being such a pussy.

Satan was slightly more understanding. He said something like, "I'm sorry, but you had to have seen it coming. I mean, c'mon...hey, allow me to introduce myself. My name's Satan, maybe you've heard of me? Hello? How do you think I wound up down here? You just don't fuck with The Man. You just don't do it."

The devil's compassion sort of rubbed off on me, I guess, because I grudgingly apologized and offered to help Christopher learn how to cut the carbs and stock up on protein so that, in just a few weeks, he'd regain complete mobility and be off the wheels forever. Seriously. That's the magic of low-carb.
-2- beat my meat
FUCK potatoes.   
03:18pm 10/11/2004
  It's a beautiful day here in the fiery pits of hell.

Satan's in a rare mood. He's practically giddy! Apparently, this chick he's had the hots (haha, hots) for noticed how much trimmer he's been looking ever since I got here and laid the smack down. She asked him out for drinks later. Of course, Satan can't really set a bad example by quenching the thirst of one of the eternally damned--even though she is fucking stacked. He was really happy though. He even told the demon anally raping her with his blazing pitchfork to ease up a little. I think she was touched by that.

So, I made a new convert today! I was roasting a chicken in the big pit on the east side of hell where all of those iniquitous homosexuals are kept, and one of them was all, "D0kt0r, since I got to hell, I just haven't had the time to climb out of this smoldering pit of eternal suffering to go to the gym. I'm terrified of going the way of Kirstie Alley - she used to be so cute when she was anorexic! - what can I do?"

And so I was like, "First of all, please try not to get your gay all over my chicken. Thanks. Now, let me tell you about this wonderful plan I like to call D0KT0R ATK1NZ NEW DIET REVOLUTION, BITCH!!" Then I schooled his ass, and now he's totally cut the carbs. Good for you, buddy! It takes courage. It really does.

I better run. Strom Thurmond is a bitch about me "hogging that big glowing box where you can lookit titties fer free!" It's called a computer, you fucking dinosaur. Sigh.
beat my meat
All beef, all the time.   
12:25pm 08/09/2004
  MAN, I love meat!

You know what I love even more than meat? Some hot chick-on-chick porn.

Especially when it involves penetration with meaty-goodness, such as kosher all beef franks, or a turkey drumstick.

BUT NOT CORNDOGS! For they have carbs.

So, last night Satan and I were down here in hell watching this new pr0n he borrowed from our new neighbor Rick James (man, that dude is a FUH-REAK!) and it was this little blonde girl licking whipped cream off a redhead's boobs, and I started to cry. And satan comforted me and kissed my forehead and swore that those two bitches would suffer long and hard for their carbohydrate-laden transgression. Not only with fat thighs and spare tires on earth, but forever and ever in the musty bowels of hell after they drop dead of diabetes.

So, that made me feel better. Then we ate some tuna and went to bed.
-9- beat my meat
11:56am 08/09/2004
beat my meat