Archive for the ‘You shut your whore mouth’ Category

Overheard On A Flight To Indianapolis….

September 22, 2013

Grumpy

US Airways Flight I Don’t Have My Old Boarding Pass In Front Of Me To Indianapolis
Tarmac, Logan, Approximately 1:15 PM

There is a middle-aged bordering on elderly couple sitting two rows behind me.

There is a shrieking toddler behind them.

The husband begins to grumble.

Husband (turned around and looking back over his seat at the child’s guardian): You’re going to have to do something about that.

Guardian: (murmurs something I don’t catch)

Toddler: AAAIEEEEEEHHHHHHHHH! AAAAOOWWWWWWWW! MMMMMMOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW! RRRRRRRAAAAARRR!

Husband: HE IS KICKING MY CHAIR! HE PULLED MY WIFE’S HAIR!

Guardian: (silence)

Toddler: AAAIEEEEHHH!! STOP STABBING ME, PLANE GHOST! IS THAT BLOOD COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH? MY SCREAMS ARE LEGEND!

Husband (to the female flight attendant currently helping a couple in the row across from me stow their bullshit-sized carry-ons, seriously, just fucking check it, you’re ruining everything by trying to store the Ark of the fucking Covenant in the overhead bin): Miss? MISS? We need help here!

Entire plane  (to themselvessome excited and others dreading what’s to come): Oh, it’s on now…

The flight attendant is early 40s, pleasant-looking but also has that veteran passenger wrangler air about her. This dude is clearly in trouble if he thinks he’s going to tussle with her.

Flight attendant: Yes, sir? How can I help you?

Husband: You NEED to do something about this (I assume he indicated the horror behind him with an indignant thumb). He is KICKING MY CHAIR. And he has PULLED MY WIFE’S HAIR ALREADY! He keeps KICKING MY CHAIR.

Oddly, it bothers me somewhat that he keeps referring to his seat as a “chair”. That’s not a chair. Stop it.

Flight attendant: Sir, we have a full flight. There are no empty seats. Let me see if I can resolve this, though. Ok?

Husband: *harumph*

Toddler: FFFUCCKCCK THISS GUYYYY!!! I AM GOING TO SCCREEAMMMMM!! AAIIEEEEEHH!! MURDER DEATH BODIES BLOOD!!!!

I can hear the attendant talking in a hushed tone with the child’s guardian. The child’s screaming volumes down slightly. The attendant makes her way back up the aisle to the front of the plane. The child’s screaming ratchets up to maximum volume. Shifty kid.

Husband. Great. GREAT. Can you believe this?

We can believe it. The entire plane hates you and that kid. It would be a toss-up as to which of you we would jettison if we were allowed. Probably you, because toddlers can be cute.

The flight attendant makes her way down the aisle heading to the back of the plane.

Toddler: AAAIEEEEHHHH!! THIS BITCH CAN’T SHUT ME UP! DREAM ON, ASSHOLE! AAAIIEEEEHHH!!!! WWWHHYYY ISS GOD TORMENTING ME SO THAT I HAVE TO SCREAM THIS LOUD!!!!

Husband (losing it): MISS! MISS! THIS IS ENOUGH! WE PAID A LOT OF MONEY FOR THESE TICKETS AND HE WON’T STOP KICKING MY SEAT AND HE’S PULLED MY WIFE’S HAIR! YOU NEED TO DO SOMETHING OR WE’RE GONNA HAVE A PROBLEM!

Me: (under my breath) Seriously?

The guy to the left of me: (under his breath) Asshole.

The guy to the right of me: (under his breath) Sky Mall has some cool shit.

Flight attendant (gritting her teeth but keeping it together): Sir, I have already explained to you that this flight is FULL. There is nowhere to move you or your wife to. I’m very sorry. These things happen. Perhaps…

Husband (interrupting her ass): REALLY? REALLY? OK, HOWABOUT YOU SIT HERE AND TAKE THIS AND I’LL WALK UP AND DOWN THE AISLES, DOO TOO DOO!

Yes, the last thing he said was in a sing-songy voice meant to imply that she walked up and down the aisles like she had some brain components missing. The entire plane went silent (except for the kid so maybe they didn’t go silent because jesus, he was loud). I could HEAR her jaw tighten.

Before she could respond (I actually heard an intake of breath because she was going to let him have it), a couple approached her and they conferred.

Flight attendant: Sir, these gracious people have been generous enough to offer to switch seats with you. That’s all I can do for you. Hurry now.

Husband: Fine. Fine. You know, I like kids. I don’t hate kids. We have grandchildren. It’s just that he was pulling my…

Flight attendant (over it and talking down to him so blatantly that I’m waiting for him to accuse her of pulling his wife’s hair): Hurry! Hurry now! Hurry up! We’re waiting to taxi because of this. Please hurry!

Toddler: III’MMM SSTTTILLL SCREAMING, MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!!! FLECKS OF BLOOD FROM MY VOCAL CHORDS ARE SPATTERING ALL OF YOUR HAIR AND MAGAZINES!!!!!

The kid stopped crying the very second we left the runway, and remained quiet until we touched down. At which point he began screaming again. *end scene*

How I Knew I Needed To Stop Seeing A Certain Therapist

July 17, 2013

studies___male_thighs_by_snaketoast-d4m7jm0

So I see a therapist on the regular. I’ve been through maybe…five(?)… since the mid-90s. There have been some good ones that should be credited with my continued existence, and a couple of “eh” ones that ended up just being amusing anecdotes from my past. The following is about one of those.

While working in Wakefield for a number of years, I began seeing a gay male psychologist in not-even-nearby Beverly. Therapy wasn’t going well. Mainly because I wanted to sleep with my therapist. He was a burly salt-and-pepper sort who constantly wore snug trousers that highlighted his broad buttocks and he would laugh at my jokes with a boyish giggle that sent me (and my genitals) swooning. Our arrangement wasn’t very therapeutic. This became evident during one session when he confessed that he had “trouble being professional” around me. Oh, good. Like I inspire you not to do your job? I’m too far gone to take seriously? People wonder why I drink so much.

But I liked being a patient that he looked forward to seeing, even if it was just because I was an extra amusing part of his day. Being the class clown makes me feel like I have a reason for being around. That feeling was one of the reasons why I was IN therapy. So you see the cyclical dilemma I was experiencing with this therapist.

My attraction to this dude grew more and more. I started to seriously debate whether I could land him or not, and then thought about what a special moment that would be in my life. Torrid! And seedy when you think about it. I would be the wanton slut who caused a man to defy the Hippocratic Oath just so he could show me what those trousers were holding so snugly. It didn’t help that, back at the office, more than a few co-workers told me that they had crushes on their own therapists. So it was an office full of neurotics that were all fantasizing about nailing their shrinks. Our Christmas parties were legend.

My crush on my therapist, and the perceived sexual tension between us, was slashed to ribbons one day when he called me fat. He didn’t just come out and say “you’re fat.” And he didn’t try to broach the subject in a therapeutic, counseling-type manner. It was something he had been secretly thinking and that he accidentally blurted out.

He was leading me through guided meditation, designed to relieve stress and be “in the now”.

A transcript:

Shrink: Your eyes are closed. Now take some deep breaths. Hear the sound of my voice. Follow what I say.

Me: *breathes*

Shrink: Picture a ball of light. It’s warm and comforting. It starts at the tip of your toes. It moves across them, taking away all your stress, all your pain. Now it’s rising and moving slowly and gently over your feet. It’s healing light absorbs all the fatigue, and all the negativity. Now it’s reached your ankles. You can feel the light reflecting upwards. It’s so soothing and warm. You’re beginning to feel totally relaxed and at peace. Now it’s going past your calves and it’s reached your knees, healing as it goes. Absorbing all the tension. Now it’s at your big thighs…

Me: *my eyes popped open* WHAT? Did you say ‘big thighs’? *incredulous*

Shrink: Sorry! Sorry, just – I meant…your thighs…close your eyes again and let me guide you back…

I looked at him for a second. The sonofabitch was SMIRKING. He was blushing. But he was also SMIRKING. And then he gave that giggle again!

My eyes closed again, as he tried to talk me back into that halcyon meadow or whatever and the ball of light came back. But the ball of light was having an issue. The ball of light barely emitted a glow now BECAUSE MY THIGHS WERE TOO FUCKING FAT TO ALLOW IT TO CAST ANY LIGHT ON THE REST OF MY BODY. This bitch just threw shade at my fat legs! I didn’t feel at peace. I felt betrayed! He was looking at my thighs and thinking “damn, he’s got some pudge on those ham hocks” and then accidentally said it!

I decided then and there that I would no longer be utilizing his services. And that his buttocks were not “broad” but “fat, fatter than the fattest things!”

Now I only see lesbian therapists. They could give a shit if I’m fat or not. Or if they do, they’ve got the internal editor switched on to “THINGS NOT TO TELL HIM”.

Open For Business

June 29, 2012

Image

I’m toying with blogging again. I’ve had lots of therapy. Hopefully my block is cleared. I’m just not sure what to write about. Little vignettes about my day? Even typing that made me want to shear off my face with something sharp. Posts about my hatred of things? I could write about celebrity bullshit, but did you guys know Michael K. at DListed hired me out of the blue to cover for him when he’s got the clap and it’s affecting his laptop? How fucking huge was that for my ass? So whenever there’s a holiday or he has a flare-up, it looks like I’ll be over there handling famous douche. I hope. FUCK, what if he decides I suck? That last thought was why I see a therapist once a week. Anyway, thay was a fucking dream come true. And ironic, seeing as in the post where I closed this blog, I noted that he was a way better writer than I am. Still true, but if you can’t beat em – beat them off.

I could post secrets people told me, but thinly veil them. SHROUD THEM. So “fucked his husband” becomes “got that used on Craigslist.” 

The posts about what I saw on the T were pretty popular. But now I pay for parking. Did you guys know I work with my future husband…

OH SHIT, THIS COULD BE A TOTALLY BORING BLOG ABOUT HOW I’M GETTING MARRIED IN OCTOBER. It could be like one of those bride blogs where I tell you about how the sand in that centerpiece was imported from Revere Beach. Smokin’ butts. Tannin’.

I need to keep my peabrain busy, so I guess I’ll just post about whatever strikes my fancy. Here’s where I make a promise to myself (I PROMISE TO TRY, BUT IT FEELS LIKE A LIE. I still think Like A Prayer is her best album.) to post once a week. HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH. That’ll happen. 

Has anyone had Mrs. Fields cookies that come individually wrapped in a box. Shit, those are good.

I need a new banner. I am taking submissions.

Paris Hilton TOTALLY Jacking Lindsay Lohan’s Useless Cokewhore Swag

September 1, 2010

I would use my limited Photoshop skills to clumsily draw rifle sights over their faces but I don't want the police to come after me. Celebrities can do that!

I KNEW IT! For real. No one just opens up the purse they’re carrying and dumps out a bag of powder in front of the police. How sick is it that these crazed sinkhole bitches will commit felonies just to get back in the limelight? Does it really raise your appearance fee up that much? Word is that Paris Hilton, jealous that Freckles McLeggins (Lindsay Lohan) got so much press from her recent incarceration, PLANNED to get busted for cocainya. Is it bad to wish someone could be sent through a crematorium but still be alive? We could make the coffin pretty at least..

E! has the speculation this morning. Did wall-eyed fuck pony Hilton get so jealous of her former friend Leggins McEffYouNail’s recent infamy that she got pulled over on the Vegas strip on purpose? Her and the gentleman she is currently allowing in her nethers were rollin’ down the street, with weed smoke BILLOWING out of their car. After being yanked, Hilton asked the cop if she could go use the bathroom at the Wynn. He escorted her, at which time she asked for her bag back to get some lip chap (herpes sores need soothing) and she let a Ziplock fulla .8 grams of disco dust fly outta there.

Paris dialed up the obvious and said it was someone else’s bag, despite the presence of her credit cards in said bag. You know, the ones that had her name printed on them.

And I can see it. It’s not far-fetched. She and her dude were probably frantically sucking on joints to create enough of a smoke signal to attract law enforcement. How much weed do you have to smoke so that people can VISIBLY SEE THE CLOUD AS YOU ARE DRIVING PAST THEM? Did she step out of the car with dreds in?

So far, she’s free and clear because celebrities can sink an axe into the heads of babies and MAYBE get a ticket. They really are a class of people valued higher than the rest of us by the dreck that runs this world. Then again, E! and I propagate the mess by reporting on these people. I mean this E! report is basically just me speculating on that skank’s motivation, but with a nicer looking blog and better pay. It wasn’t a news story. So we’re actually worse than she is. If it makes everyone feel better, my life is a pit of shadows.

Hopefully this will backfire on her caricature ass and she ends up in jail for a long time. Actually eff that, hopefully she ends up in some serial killer’s dungeon and experiencing the table saw. Serial killers need to leave off killing innocent people and going for the ones no one likes. Like her.

In other news, I saw a man today wearing a livestrong bracelet and carrying a copy of the The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. And I wanted to behead him. Is that bad? Where was your The North Face backpack? Can we talk about The Office?

God Sent Someone To Take Out Paris Hilton

August 25, 2010

My god, I can smell her from here...


Paris took this picture. I always find what people wear to a stabbing fascinating. I think I would wear something more flamboyant. Like safety goggles and a big yellow raincoat.

Rain, rain, DON’T go away! Seriously, it’s 20,000 fathoms under Morrissey Blvd. and I am LOVING it. It’s like someone turned my psychotic depression inside out and splashed it all over the world! And then everyone goes to their Facebooks and they’re like “WAH! I’m WET!” and I say “HA! So are all of your dreams!” And….*looks around*..uh, well someone tried to kill Paris Hilton.

What’s the first thing you do while police are subduing a dude who showed up at the door with two big knives, looking for an autograph in blood? You hop on your Twitter, obvi! Here’s what Paris had to say:

“So Scary, just got woken up to a guy trying to break into my house holding 2 big knifes,” she said. “Cops are here arresting [him].”

The Whore of Babylon noted the amateur knife salesman Nathan Lee Parada on her security cam at 6 AM when he began pounding on her windows and lit up 911. A “male friend” (that poor bastard, why?) confronted the intruder while Paris spread for attention on Twitter.

The light coming off of her nuclear herp sores has dimmed in recent years, and she has been eclipsed by other celebrity tramps such as former friend Kim Kardashian. So anything to get back in the public eye and achieve even a slight bit of relevancy even if it’s your own attempted murder. One wonders whether or not she would have still been Tweeting even as he stabbed her.

TMZ reports that sad sack Parada (seriously, who stalks Paris Hilton anymore?) was charged with felony burglary.

The DA tried to get attempted murder on there but everyone merely laughed at Ed Exley’s crusading ways and reminded him that trying to cut off Paris Hilton’s head is pretty much community service. Christ, play soccer with it. Or use it for one of those home Barbie heads that little girls and gay kids used to style back in the 70s.

Jennifer Aniston Is Insensitive

August 20, 2010

Caw! Caw!

So, there’s a movement on to get rid of using the word “retarded” to describe stupid actions or a dumb movie or your sister-in-law trying to drive an SUV home from the Cape after a wedding and twenty-five Bud Lights in . I’m not sure censoring actual words is a good idea. They tried it with “gay” as in “ugh, that’s totally gay, Jennifer.” It didn’t work, if what I overhear EVERYDAY is an indication. But I understand the intent. I have friends with kids who have Downs, and that’s hurtful to hear that. The kid has enough obstacles, like he or she needs that in their life. I blame Corky for giving everyone with Downs a bad name and causing them to use that word. Did you see when he tried to rap? If I had Downs, I would be bullshit and want to kick him in the nuts. So it’s all about tact. So here’s an idea…don’t use the term when it’s going to offend certain segments of the population. Like on live television, Jennifer Aniston. You beige, boring Wheat Thin.

Rachel is shilling that TERRIBLE-looking new movie wherein she gets sexy with a turkey baster and has a kid and Jason Bateman should know better. She talked to Reeg and that dorky bitch Kelly (who hasn’t done anything useful since she played that drunk-ass Hayley on All My Children) and was talking about her recent stint dressing up as Babs Streisand for Harper’s Bazaar. And when Reeg accused her of always playing dress-up (well, it’s not like she has anything better to do since Satan stole her man), she replied:

“Yes, I play dress up! I do it for a living, like a retard!”

Old girl should know better. You just KNOW she refers to her cleaning lady as Juanita despite the fact that her name is Julie. And she’s white. So the people over at an advocacy group called The Arc heard about her dumb ass, and let Us know how they felt.

“Frankly, someone in her position ought to know better. She is using language that is offensive to a large segment of the population in this country. We estimate that there are probably in excess of 5 million people in the country with intellectual disabilities, and when you think about all of them, their family members and friends, you’re talking about tens of millions of people who find the use of that term to be really offensive. Every time folks hear that word, it kind of reminds them of all the discrimination and oppression they’ve experienced in their lives. Even if it wasn’t intended to insult them, that is the effect of it.”

They also added “…and every movie she’s done besides The Good Girl has sucked salty nuts.” Maybe Aniston was in a mood because of the picture above getting ouit. That Baba Yaga-looking thing is Aniston un-retouched from a recent photoshoot. And holy damn, isn’t she the one that demanded the eye from Perseus in Clash of the Titans?

Oh and by the way, everyone with developmental disabilities is getting together to ride bikes over Aniston’s lawn this weekend! Please join us in Malibu this coming Saturday at 10 AM. There will be a bounce house!

Gisele Bundchen Needs To Put A Breast In Her Own Mouth And Shut Up (That Came Out Weird)

August 3, 2010

Eh, which way to the court that will declare global law for me?

So living in Boston means we have to hear a lot more about Gisele Bundchen than you do. Why? Well, she married Tom Brady. Who is like Boston sportsland royalty in these here parts. Exotic Amazonian Bundchen now makes the nightly newscasts. So heavily coiffed bitches on Channel 7 with pantsuits from Ann Taylor Loft have to report her every move in Boston in all seriousness, while the closeted newscaster beside them (not you, Randy Price, we know you’re out and proud – ya big drunk) has to fake some “hubba, hubba” bullshit. Next!

So Gisele just had Brady’s kid Benjamin (except she didn’t get kicked off the gravy train for it like other bitches. Hi, Natasha from Sex & The City) and now she’s giving interviews how she’s the best mother ever as if she was the first woman to have a baby. Arrogant tramp. And she’s also on this kick where she has declared that all women should breastfeed. She even said so in an interview with Harper’s Bazaar (via The Daily Mail). Start your breast pumps, ladies.

“I think breastfeeding really helped. Some people here think they don’t have to breastfeed, and I think, “Are you going to give chemical food to your child, when they are so little?”

“There should be a worldwide law, in my opinion, that mothers should breastfeed their babies for six months.”

So would that be like, Norfolk County District Court that would do that sort of thing? This ho has been a mom for seven months and now she’s trying to tell you how to raise your kids? EFF THAT! Let me tell ya a little something. I have a friend who was like TERRORIZED by the tit nurse (or whatever you call her, lactation nazi?) after giving birth into giving it a try. My friend (who is a sane woman who loves her two children) said it was comparable to having some sort of demonic lamprey clamped to her boob. DEMONIC LAMPREY!!! Isn’t it enough she massaged a child with her innards out of her cave of pleasures? A BIG CHILD out of a hole that doesn’t really make sense to push people out of? That’s where I say “My body has done it’s part. Let’s go down to the CVS and buy that fake milk stuff!”

My friend opted not to breast feed. It just wasn’t her. The kids will be fine. Watch one of them win the Nobel Prize or cure cancer or kill Miles from Work of Art! Then that kid needs to walk up and slap Gisele Bundchen in her supermodel mouth for being so damn fascist about breast feeding! She should be more worried about this lesbian business her husband has going on. My Mom didn’t breast feed and look how I….shit, you bitches need to breast feed.

Lindsay’s Parents Upholding The Family Tradition Of “Whorish Moron”

July 7, 2010

I'd rather have Fred and Rosemary West as parents (look it up)...

Ooh, is anyone else hung over from the Lindsay Is Going To Jail party? I am. I think someone slipped me a roofie right after our third viewing of I Know Who Killed Me, and I woke up with the Duff sisters on top of me. You know those old-school tween stars raised a glass last night cuz’ bitch went down!

As expected, Dina Lohan acted her usual enabling stagemom “who’s gonna float me my Xanax money?” self yesterday when Lohan’s tearbombs burst as she heard she was going to do a bid and Dina heard the verdict. Here’s what Popeater says she said:

“This is so not fair to do this to my child,” a flabbergasted Dina Lohan told PopEater exclusively shortly after Judge Marsha Revel made the announcement.

Come again? Fair?!?!

Someone on Facebook mentioned that they sorta kinda felt bad for Lindsay because it’s fairly obvious this aging hag supported her ass by building the “you can do anything you want, you’re Supergirl, now sign this check for Mommy” scaffolding around her. Which made her a sociopath. Frankly, I think that as an adult, you can’t blame your shithead behavior on your parents. There is something called “responsibility.” RiRi Harvey once made me wear Chinese knock-off Nikes from Building #19 with the swish REVERSED and in GOLD LAME (they would be so hot nowadays) to school and I haven’t raped a nun, yet. Although it totally made me like boys…

But nevertheless it IS obvious that Lohan had next to no chance to even OBSERVE how a normal adult carries themselves while growing up. Not that it excuses anything. I wouldn’t excuse her from the Sarlac pit at this point, she’s so awful.

Oh, and don’t think Manic Mike Lohan didn’t show his crazy self outside the courtroom. Firstly, word is he tried to barge INTO the courtroom during the proceedings to attempt to read some sort of statement on behalf on Lindsay. Keep in mind that his entire estranged family wants nothing to do with him, and he is INSERTING himself into the center for attention. This is a grown-ass man. And check this out:

While he declined to issue a comment following the sentencing (ed. note – he must have had food in his mouth or something), his spokeswoman baffled reporters when she urged Lohan to report to rehab immediately, apparently unaware the actress must first go to jail. When corrected by an onlooker, the unidentified rep said the rehab portion of the ruling was “a great victory” for the Lohan family.

So basically, even their EMPLOYEES are crackers. Then again, this was probably some slut he met down the pub and declared her his “spokeswoman.” Right?

Fast Forward To 4:27 For The Schadenfreude Of A Lifetime

July 6, 2010


Before the fall...

If you’re unaware what that is, here you go.
It should be my middle name because I am a bitch. But not in this case because that entitled cokehead snotty skank known as Lindsay Lohan is GOING TO JAIL. Can you feel a brand new day? Someone call out the Lollipop League and wheel in the keg, cuz’ it’s party time.

Can you think of anyone more deserving of jailtime than this fake-ass delusional ho? For going on years now, she has evaded prosecution for numerous offenses, managing to weasel out of just about every charge brought against her. She has repeatedly made the Los Angeles court system seem like the most dickless and ineffectual provider of justice since George Clooney starred as Batman. And why? Because she’s a cokey actress who was briefly relevant? But now you might want to send an Edible Arrangement to Judge Marsha Revel because that stand-up lady of the cloth (wait…robe?) just sent Lindsay Lohan to jail for 90 days. Huzzah!

Skeezy Lohan will reportedly be going to jail for 90 days and then entering rehab (I’m sure that will take) for another 90 for violating her DUI probation by skipping out on her booze classes. Finally, someone with a real set of pendulous low-hangers (sorry, Judge) just smacked that bitch upside her dried-out crackie face. Let’s complete this slash and burn on Lindsay’s entitlement by driving to Long Island and slapping her friggin’ whoring cokemom, family apologist Dina Lohan. Hell, why stop there? Kick ole’ Ali in the ass, too, and don’t even get me started on that douchebag father with the desperation to be on camera and the cellphone on his belt and the turtlenecks. I could go on for hours.

So enjoy the sentencing. Right after Lindsay gives this simpering, bullshit plea for mercy (the lawyer must have shook her roughly immediately before court and said “bitch, you betta say this or you are screwed, you crawl under her robe and kiss her ass, now!”), the judge ignores it, gives her 90 days in the clink, and Lindsay bursts into tears which cleansed my soul. Good. Next! We’re looking at you, Charlie Sheen.

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Mel Gibson Said WHAT?!?!

July 1, 2010

Feel free to pull that trigger, Dan.

Feel free to pull that trigger, Dan.

Sugartits himself didn’t get the message the first time he was caught in a racist-ass meltdown and he’s gone back to the “Fuck, did they get that on tape?” buffet.

The story is that Mel Gibson and his post-divorce impregnated jumpoff , Oksana Grigorieva, are currently embroiled in a restraining order swordfight. And Oksana just jabbed her sword up his ass by providing the court with tapes she recorded of Mel being verbally abusive about the way she dressed. And don’t think he didn’t drop the N-bomb when he thought he was behind closed doors. So black people can now join our Jewish friends in driving by and throwing flaming bags of feces on Mel’s reputation.

Radar says that the following gems are on tape for the divorce court’s delight. Can Oksana just order diamond tiara now or does she have to wait until this is notarized?

“You’re an embarrassment to me. You look like a fucking pig in heat, and if you get raped by a pack of n***ers, it will be your fault.

“How dare you act like such a bitch when I have been so fucking nice.”

“I am going to come and burn the fucking house down… but you will blow me first.”

“Look what you did to me… look what you are… look what every part of you is… fucking fake… fucking fake. You are the most synthetic person… who the fuck are you?”

That first one is nice. Does Danny Glover know that Mel feels that way? Would Danny and his “pack” show up to rehearsal and rub Mel’s racist ass the wrong way on the set of Lethal Weapon 1 – Aught Four or something?

Mel’s done, right? This would be “done?”

And next time I want to get blown, I’ m telling Scotty that I’m setting the apartment on fire. Does that actually work? Anyone?