Please post a weird as hell, non-sensical statment here!

Hispanic?

 

ROTFLMBAO!

 

Pork rocks!!!

 

The dog flies at midnight.

That is all.

 

Yellow monkey dishwasher

 

A = A.

 

The beatings will continue until morale improves.

 

Dear Gary Bettman,
Why have you thrown all my forks into the ceiling? Given the state of the plurality walrus, el blathers has no reason but to Muriel Hemingway fortitude the beast. Oh, the tranquilizer! Madness, drake knave, madness! For to seat the hundred best carpetbagger, McDouglas from the table tennis! Given from Studebaker eleven hundred slams (and jams).

Flapjacks,
blathersby

PS: The Dallas Mavericks are going to win the NBA Finals.

 

It's like a koala bear crapped a rainbow in my brain!

 

This thread is like a peeled orange being pulled by a giraffe on a red wagon towards Earth's fourth moon!

 

Stick that marzapan in your pieplate, Bingo.

 

How about anything that comes out of the mouth of Lil Wayne like this masterpiece (obvious NSFW language):

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Benches ain't sits for Yao's and Dirk's... So get on this pine, and suck a drink.

 

black boy bakes brownies before breakfast.


(i like to come up with new, somewhat politically incorrect, tongue twisters)

 

"You look like a monkey screwing a football." - Herb Brooks

 

...In that horrifying moment I realize that the Neal I had come to consider my closest friend was no longer there, Neal the mild-mannered Veterinarian was now a zombie-vampire-hobo-republican hell bent on eating my juicy brains. I hid in the attic and watched through a vent in terror as Neal sniffed the air, looking for any scent of my albino flesh. Then I witnessed my most devastating event to date, Neal found my pet hamster Bojangles and begin to tear into him with an unhuman instinct. It was ironic in a way, that this man - who devoted his life to saving tiny creatures that were content to eek out in an existence while we strived for corporate success - was now reduced to nibbling on the entrails of my beloved pet like they were grilled asparagus.

Suddenly I remember the shotgun that I had left downstairs in my haste to escape the nightmare that was unfolding outside. I cursed myself under my breath for not bringing it with me. But I barely had time to delve deeply into any additional self-loathing because Neal had stopped moving around for a minute and was now looking up in my direction. He had a gleam in his eye that was more frightening than the previous atrocities I had witnessed just moments before. I could tell his zombie-brain was still functional enough to figure out where I was by using animal like instincts.

I climbed down the ladder slowly because I knew Neal was coming up there. This was perhaps the most nerve-racking moment of the ordeal. As I climbed down, armed with nothing more than a putty knife I had produced while rummaging around up there, my whole life began to flash before my eyes. I recalled the summers in Liverpool with Eloise, the soft tones of the Philharmonic bellowing through our souls as we got lost in each other's eyes. I remembered my upbringing, the daily struggle to make myself incapable of being pointed out by the common man. The fame I had gained sure seems like it should come in handy now. I want to tell Neal that its me, its James... your friend and confidant... lets stop all this brain-eating nonsense and go down to O'lshanky's for a pint like old times.
The reality begins to set in, the virus that was released surely now has spread throughout the city and perhaps soon will make its way to the rest of the world. I feel trapped as I make my slow steps toward the room with the shotgun. Then I feel it. Neal's breath on my neck. My neck which was now decorated by my hairs standing up on end. There is a startling growl infused with his breathing that starts to unnerve me. I am frozen. Destined to die without even making a conscious objection, here I am... James Faulk, famous author, award-winning playwright, philanthropist... and now... zombie-vampire-hobo-republican main course.
"No" I say out loud without realizing it... I will not go out like this. I muster all the courage a man in my predicament can... and I summon a strength I never knew I had. As I turn to face my tormentor I see Neal in a new light. His face looks a little more civilized despite the many open cuts and wounds. Nothing I have accomplished in life means a damn thing at this moment. It is just human against what was once human. As I draw my putty knife and prepare to battle for my mortality... Neal reaches out and pulls out a weapon of his own. It is not a weapon though... it is a pamphlet. He thrusts the pamphlet into my hands and then falls down on the floor... apparently dead. I wonder what has just happened and then I see the culprit. Manny, my beloved Guatemalan Gardener is standing in the entrance of the dining room with a satisfying grin on his face. I then look down and see the Machete that pierced the skull of my veterinarian friend. "Good work Manny" I say to him. He kneels down to pick up his weapon and I suddenly remember the pamphlet. I kneel down and pick it up to see what in the world it could say. The hairs on my neck are immediately at attention again within seconds...It says..."Vote for McCain"

 

awesome, simply awesome.

 

I tree lovingly December shocking-maker.