Post by Gib on Apr 6, 2012 13:36:46 GMT -6
I live in this country, the land of freedom, of hope, and of future. A cultural melting pot of people from all walks of life, from all avenues and from all countries and I will be honest. It makes me sick to the point of vomiting. People from all over come to this country and piss on it, they piss on the streets, on trees and anywhere else they can whip their tallywhackers out and relieve themselves.
They might as well give Uncle Sam the golden shower, the way they take, and take and take without ever truly giving back. Migrant workers, immigrants and ingrates, that is what I see when I look around people who aren’t willing to understand that the American way and the American dream are two completely different and unattached things.
That is about to change. I am standing up and fighting back against these people that represent the best that their countries have to offer. Countries like ones that aren’t in the United States, I mean countries unlike Kentucky, Arkansas and Texas. These places where I assume everyone lives in huts and kills their food with spears, these countries with their lush nature and lack of giant vacant buildings that no longer plume smoke into the environment crushing that blasted ozone layer into its rightful place as our countries bitch. I mean, what the **** did that ozone layer ever do for us, protect us from the sun, the same sun that we depend on for heat.
****ing morons.
Each and every one of you that defile this country with your words, each and every one of you that think you are better because you call soccer an ultimately pussy sport football and don’t understand that football is best played with your hands. You people who want to put another shrimp on Barbie, what the **** did Barbie ever do to you other then provide your children with hours of classic entertainment and enjoyment and serve as a sex symbol and masturbatory tool for men of all ages. You people with your communist mother Russia and whatever the **** you idiots do on the mountains sitting Indian style and humming gently to yourselves.
And of course, I would be remiss to not mention you dillholes that are literally the toilet bowl of the United States in Mexico, eating your damn food on tortillas and burritos instead of the great American invention of sliced white bread which doesn’t need to be rolled and subsequently spilled on your lap when you are trying to get a taste of that good old American punani pie.
I am pretty sure that I speak for each and every American when I say to all of you to go **** yourselves. I am pretty sure I speak for everyone when I say your countries hate us because they are dumb heads who don’t know how to kick ass and take names.
You know when push comes to shove and you have some communist oil barons trying to rape your wives who you call, you call big daddy, you call the world’s father, you call America. nCw needed representation from the greatest country in the world and they called the greatest American patriot they could find on short notice.
They called Gib. They called a hot dog devouring, baseball playing, apple pie screwing foul mouthed red blooded godsend to show the world what a man truly looks like. And I am going to show you all, I will show you all what I have in store for you, I am going to show you what a real patriot looks like.
Because when I bleed, I bleed red, white and blue.
And if you don’t believe me, you are probably a douchebag from another country who I don’t like anyway. And your opinion matters less then the **** on my toilet paper after a night of drinking Pabst Blue ribbon.
Get ready world, because Gib is back and he is fighting for a cause.
And none of you damn immigrants can do anything about it.
{Scene opens to a Harley Davidson dealership, Gib stands in front of the place wearing his red, white and blue main event panties. He spreads the flag that has almost been attached to his shoulders out like and eagle and the wind wafts it, billowing, giving you the perspective of his slightly exposed butt cheeks}
{He walks into the place, and the eyes turn towards him for obvious reasons, he looks about and a man comes up to him}
Dealer: Sir, you are going to have to put a shirt on…
Gib: What are you? Some sort of communist bastard? I am wearing a shirt, I am wearing this damn flag as a shirt and if you don’t understand it then perhaps you can go back to Canadaville where people like you are from.
Dealer: I was born here sir.
Gib: You were born from your mother’s vagina.
Dealer: That is true.
Gib: Damn right, damn right.
Dealer: So what brings you to iron block harley Davidson.
Gib: I want the biggest, nastiest, American madiest motorcycle that you have, and well, some chaps.
Dealer: Really, chaps?
Gib: Hell yes, nothing says America more then the wind blowing freely on your asshole.
{The dealer looks up and down Gib, confused.}
Gib: That’s the one…
{Gib points to a monstrous motorcycle, it has ape hangers}
Gib: The only problem is, I don’t know where I can fly a giant American flag from it.
Dealer: I am sure we can figure something out, but do you realize how much money that bike costs? Are you going to finance it?
Gib: No, I am paying with the cash that I am holding while clenching my buttcheeks…
Dealer: That is a lot of cash.
Gib: I work out.
{He reaches down the back of his trunks and pulls and excessively large roll of cash out. You wonder to yourself, but then the image burns and you refuse to understand}
Gib: And throw in that leather jacket, the one with the giant eagle on it. But for god’s sake, take those pansy ass sleeves off it, what do you think I am some croissant eating homo?
Dealer: No, of course not sir.
Gib: You’re damn right…
{The dealer picks up a phone and dials the phone, after a brief conversation the scene fades as Gib throws the wad of money at the dealer. After a few seconds we are brought to the outside of the dealership, where Gib sits on the monstrous Harley Davidson motorcycle, his chaps covering his legs, his main event panties covering his ass but his thighs are open, and free just like the great country he lives in. The leather jacket adorns his back and his arms are not being constricted by the ever so obnoxious sleeves. He fires the motorcycle up and tears out of the parking lot.}
Dealer: That was the most ridiculous thing I have ever been part of…
{A large man, most likely the mechanic grabs him by the collar of his shirt. He shakes him}
Mechanic: I hope by ridiculous you mean the most American and not communist thing you have ever been part off. That guy just dropped over a hundred grand.
Dealer: Yeah, of ass money.
{Scene fades}
So, I have some sort of conglomeration of two superstar wrestlers from around the world, The Internationals to kick off this tag team tournament, this is going to be a preview cockstains, this is going to be a very deliberate preview of what is going to happen to you after I am forced to face off against some of the biggest wastes of DNA that this world has ever witnessed, wastes of DNA from France, and other places as well but mostly France.
So we have Dragon de Valor and Bushido some nincompoop who paints his chest with some sort of child writing. I have finger paints that Xander made when he was six that make more sense then your little body writings do, I know, I know, I am being insensitive you are writing in another language.
The language of the retards.
You don’t understand, you and your deliberate misunderstanding of the very basic entry policies of the great county made some sort of messed up situation in the tag division, go figure, some dumbass that can’t even speak the language of the world well messing up paperwork. Maybe you should have had that little dumb dude that wears the bowler hat do your paperwork for you, perhaps then you could have made a sentence that makes sense.
You and your General Tso and Mo Goo Guy Poon, how are you going to eat those very Japanese food items when I shove your chopsticks up your anus fifty feet.
And I wasn’t exaggerating.
And Mr. Mask Wearing Mexico man, what the hell is your problem?
Oh yeah, I forgot when you talk I don’t understand what you are saying so from this point on I will ignore you. It is all like “rittitiititi fuchuu soma punnana cocka grabba!!!”
Get ready for the ass kicking of a lifetime. I am not sure if you understand who I am, but there is a good chance that I am your father.
And after this weekend, you will most certainly call me daddy.
They might as well give Uncle Sam the golden shower, the way they take, and take and take without ever truly giving back. Migrant workers, immigrants and ingrates, that is what I see when I look around people who aren’t willing to understand that the American way and the American dream are two completely different and unattached things.
That is about to change. I am standing up and fighting back against these people that represent the best that their countries have to offer. Countries like ones that aren’t in the United States, I mean countries unlike Kentucky, Arkansas and Texas. These places where I assume everyone lives in huts and kills their food with spears, these countries with their lush nature and lack of giant vacant buildings that no longer plume smoke into the environment crushing that blasted ozone layer into its rightful place as our countries bitch. I mean, what the **** did that ozone layer ever do for us, protect us from the sun, the same sun that we depend on for heat.
****ing morons.
Each and every one of you that defile this country with your words, each and every one of you that think you are better because you call soccer an ultimately pussy sport football and don’t understand that football is best played with your hands. You people who want to put another shrimp on Barbie, what the **** did Barbie ever do to you other then provide your children with hours of classic entertainment and enjoyment and serve as a sex symbol and masturbatory tool for men of all ages. You people with your communist mother Russia and whatever the **** you idiots do on the mountains sitting Indian style and humming gently to yourselves.
And of course, I would be remiss to not mention you dillholes that are literally the toilet bowl of the United States in Mexico, eating your damn food on tortillas and burritos instead of the great American invention of sliced white bread which doesn’t need to be rolled and subsequently spilled on your lap when you are trying to get a taste of that good old American punani pie.
I am pretty sure that I speak for each and every American when I say to all of you to go **** yourselves. I am pretty sure I speak for everyone when I say your countries hate us because they are dumb heads who don’t know how to kick ass and take names.
You know when push comes to shove and you have some communist oil barons trying to rape your wives who you call, you call big daddy, you call the world’s father, you call America. nCw needed representation from the greatest country in the world and they called the greatest American patriot they could find on short notice.
They called Gib. They called a hot dog devouring, baseball playing, apple pie screwing foul mouthed red blooded godsend to show the world what a man truly looks like. And I am going to show you all, I will show you all what I have in store for you, I am going to show you what a real patriot looks like.
Because when I bleed, I bleed red, white and blue.
And if you don’t believe me, you are probably a douchebag from another country who I don’t like anyway. And your opinion matters less then the **** on my toilet paper after a night of drinking Pabst Blue ribbon.
Get ready world, because Gib is back and he is fighting for a cause.
And none of you damn immigrants can do anything about it.
{Scene opens to a Harley Davidson dealership, Gib stands in front of the place wearing his red, white and blue main event panties. He spreads the flag that has almost been attached to his shoulders out like and eagle and the wind wafts it, billowing, giving you the perspective of his slightly exposed butt cheeks}
{He walks into the place, and the eyes turn towards him for obvious reasons, he looks about and a man comes up to him}
Dealer: Sir, you are going to have to put a shirt on…
Gib: What are you? Some sort of communist bastard? I am wearing a shirt, I am wearing this damn flag as a shirt and if you don’t understand it then perhaps you can go back to Canadaville where people like you are from.
Dealer: I was born here sir.
Gib: You were born from your mother’s vagina.
Dealer: That is true.
Gib: Damn right, damn right.
Dealer: So what brings you to iron block harley Davidson.
Gib: I want the biggest, nastiest, American madiest motorcycle that you have, and well, some chaps.
Dealer: Really, chaps?
Gib: Hell yes, nothing says America more then the wind blowing freely on your asshole.
{The dealer looks up and down Gib, confused.}
Gib: That’s the one…
{Gib points to a monstrous motorcycle, it has ape hangers}
Gib: The only problem is, I don’t know where I can fly a giant American flag from it.
Dealer: I am sure we can figure something out, but do you realize how much money that bike costs? Are you going to finance it?
Gib: No, I am paying with the cash that I am holding while clenching my buttcheeks…
Dealer: That is a lot of cash.
Gib: I work out.
{He reaches down the back of his trunks and pulls and excessively large roll of cash out. You wonder to yourself, but then the image burns and you refuse to understand}
Gib: And throw in that leather jacket, the one with the giant eagle on it. But for god’s sake, take those pansy ass sleeves off it, what do you think I am some croissant eating homo?
Dealer: No, of course not sir.
Gib: You’re damn right…
{The dealer picks up a phone and dials the phone, after a brief conversation the scene fades as Gib throws the wad of money at the dealer. After a few seconds we are brought to the outside of the dealership, where Gib sits on the monstrous Harley Davidson motorcycle, his chaps covering his legs, his main event panties covering his ass but his thighs are open, and free just like the great country he lives in. The leather jacket adorns his back and his arms are not being constricted by the ever so obnoxious sleeves. He fires the motorcycle up and tears out of the parking lot.}
Dealer: That was the most ridiculous thing I have ever been part of…
{A large man, most likely the mechanic grabs him by the collar of his shirt. He shakes him}
Mechanic: I hope by ridiculous you mean the most American and not communist thing you have ever been part off. That guy just dropped over a hundred grand.
Dealer: Yeah, of ass money.
{Scene fades}
So, I have some sort of conglomeration of two superstar wrestlers from around the world, The Internationals to kick off this tag team tournament, this is going to be a preview cockstains, this is going to be a very deliberate preview of what is going to happen to you after I am forced to face off against some of the biggest wastes of DNA that this world has ever witnessed, wastes of DNA from France, and other places as well but mostly France.
So we have Dragon de Valor and Bushido some nincompoop who paints his chest with some sort of child writing. I have finger paints that Xander made when he was six that make more sense then your little body writings do, I know, I know, I am being insensitive you are writing in another language.
The language of the retards.
You don’t understand, you and your deliberate misunderstanding of the very basic entry policies of the great county made some sort of messed up situation in the tag division, go figure, some dumbass that can’t even speak the language of the world well messing up paperwork. Maybe you should have had that little dumb dude that wears the bowler hat do your paperwork for you, perhaps then you could have made a sentence that makes sense.
You and your General Tso and Mo Goo Guy Poon, how are you going to eat those very Japanese food items when I shove your chopsticks up your anus fifty feet.
And I wasn’t exaggerating.
And Mr. Mask Wearing Mexico man, what the hell is your problem?
Oh yeah, I forgot when you talk I don’t understand what you are saying so from this point on I will ignore you. It is all like “rittitiititi fuchuu soma punnana cocka grabba!!!”
Get ready for the ass kicking of a lifetime. I am not sure if you understand who I am, but there is a good chance that I am your father.
And after this weekend, you will most certainly call me daddy.
