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Annnndddd a BRILLIANT African-American History Month to YOU, too!!!

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (2 Responds)

CBS News just broke into a rerun of “Mike & Molly” with a text announcement that Whitney Houston is fucking DEAD!!!!!!

I’d call for a trial & guilty verdict against Bobby Crackhead Motherfucker Brown for turning her into a fucking ADDICT and COSTING HER THOSE AMAZINGLY FUCKING GIFTED PIPES, but it wouldn’t do any fucking GOOD.

I’ve been pissed @ Whitney for a long time, for wasting a genetic gift that fewer than 1/10th of 1% of all human beings ever see, but THIS IS A LITTLE FUCKING MUCH!!!!!!

I’d been trying to come up with a really decent post this month, not just birfdays, which are monumentally important to me, as they’re my only real “holidays,” my “thanksgivings” to the universe that I have the wunnerful friends that I have  —  but I really wanted to come up with something interesting about Madame CJ Walker or some other balls-out innovator & civil-rights warrior, and then THAT is smacked in my face.

I am also sorry that I forgot to tell anybody to watch or not watch the maggoty parasitic bullshit on tonight’s “48 Hours,” as the coldest-hearted bitch on earth, Susan Cowsill, who LEFT BARRY HERE TO FUCKING DROWN BEFORE KATRINA EVEN HIT LAND, pleas as to how “hard” those Cowsill kids’ lives were, their daddy was such a dick, they should’ve gotten the “Partridge Family” show, since it ripped THEM off DIRECTLY, blah blah fucking blah poor fucking Susan and all her ex-husbands.  I wonder if she’ll plug the fact that she’s SELLING VIDEOS MADE AT BARRY’S NEW ORLEANS JAZZ FUNERAL, IRISH WAKE, ETC., INCLUDING A VERY INTERESTING EXCERPT BY ME —  but nobody who actually KNEW any Cowsills, especially THE DEAD ONES, gets a comp. I’d have to fork-out at the “family” website just like anybody else.  Go, watch, just don’t enter it into a ratings diary if you have one.  Observe the sickening slavering corpse-mangling and enjoy Susan’s whining.  And nope, no fucking links, even if tonight’s “48 Hours” is a rerun, if you wanna make money for Susan, ya gotta dig that shit up yerself, ’cause SHE’S the one who OWNS the “family” website, et al.

P.S.: Welp, I fluffed it on the air date of the Cowsills/48 Hours clusterfuck.  Sorry ’bout that.  I’ll probably air during sweeps, end of the month/beginning of March (if I’m not totally senile about such things, not having worked in the media in over a decade…).

ALSO: It’s not over yet, but I’d like to say a big hearty FUCK *YOU*, LORNE MICHAELS, as he SHOULD have flown Maya in from L.A. to do a proper tribute to Whitney, considering how much MONEY that they made off of MOCKING THE WOMAN IN THE WORST TIMES OF HER LIFE. There’s about 20 minutes left, so maybe I shouldn’t hate the South-slandering Canadian bigot TOO much tonight, YET, but I don’t have a good feeling about it.  Maya Rudolph is the only person who’s ever impersonated Whitney in even a VAGUELY-respectable manner, but even that was tinged with laughter about mental illness.

Oh, wait. After a shitty Zooey Deschanel skit about Maryland accents and crab boils, they flashed a picture of Whitney with “Mary Katherine Gallagher” in a cathlick-skoolgirl skit.  Mebbe it’s just me, but I don’t think that Whitney was raised anything but baptist. I guess that I’ll have to look that up…  which is exactly how much effort was put into that little BLIP of a photograph as they cut to commercials. If anybody besides me actually watches SNL anymore, feel free to amend/P.S. this bit if they DO pull-off a decent tribute in the next 17 minutes.

Tired of the Obama bashing?

Posted by Terrible under Uncategorized (7 Responds)

“Terrible —

So far, 25,957 supporters have raised $1,037,167 toward our Two-Term Fund.

Every time that number goes up, it means one more person just said they’re tired of the Obama bashing from the Republican candidates and it’s time to fight back.

So let’s keep that number moving.

Please pitch in $3 or more to the Two-Term Fund today:”

my reply:

What I am tired of is President Obama ignoring our laws and allowing extremely dangerous criminals that began a war of aggression and instituted a policy of torture that resulted in numerous deaths, many of them of innocents, to walk free on our streets. The laws are very explicit about these crimes and about failing to prosecute them, especially for political reasons. President Obama and AG Holder are committing a very serious crime!


Well, I’ll be damned…

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (5 Responds)

I’m not actually LATE on this month’s birfdays!  I am late for Happy Chinese New Year of The Black Dragon (if anybody knows what the hell that means, please tell me) & Korean Lunar New Year, sorry, hope that y’all partied your asses off for ’em, but as for birfdays of people who HAVEN’T ripped my fucking guts out by stabbing me in the back more often than Caesar’s acupuncturist (remember when Annti was an auntie?  Yeah, THOSE gutless twunts.), I’m not late yet!

Unless there’s anybody who hasn’t told me after all these  years, these are the only 2 January birfdays that I’ve got on the list:

On the 26th, my dearly-beloved but been-disappeared-WAY-too-fucking-long, oughta-have-the-ACLU-on-them-Arkansas-hillfuck-inbred-mouth-breathing-cockbite-motherfuckers friend, formerly known as “Neal-O,” who is, like the WM3, being persecuted by crooked fucking redneck hillbilly motherfucking PIGS, and unjustly tortured in ways that oughta result in HUMONGOUS fucking lawsuits.  If you get to see this, Neal, and I hope that you can, tell those tapeworms-for-brains motherfuckers that you call “relatives” that Annti is COMIN’ FO’ THEY ASS!!!!!! Well, fuck, a bitch can DREAM, right?

Annnnnd, on the 31st, ’tis that sweet-talkin’, tool-lovin’, bullshittin’-like-a-pro, one of the VERY few people on earth who MIGHT be able to out-cuss me, rusty-fusty-musty old fart, Busted Nuckles. Wish to hell that I had his ornery ass down here to work on the truck…  and several of my asinine-bigot-moron “neighbors.”  Again, allow a bitch to dream.  Yeah, I’ve got my own MagLite, tire tool & baseball bat, but it ain’t like anybody’s going to vouch for MY side of the shit.  Good luck getting an “honest witness” in THIS motherfucking neighborhood, much less a pig who’d go to the effort to find one!

Hey, don’t look at me, it’s the Ornery Basterd’s fault, he got me all het-up again with a fine rant and a half…  and yes, one of these fucking  years, I’M GONNA FINISH THE FUCKING BLOGROLL, IF ANYBODY EVER ACTUALLY COMES HERE TO READ THIS SHIT!!!!!!  So there.

Happy-happy, joy-joy, etc., I’ve got food poisoning from NON-NATIVE SHRIMP (“CAP’ SAL’S on St. Claude will fucking KILL YOU, and they fucking LIE about where they get those so-called “fresh” shrimp  —  yeah, I fucking SPLURGED FIVE FUCKING BUCKS ON SHRIMP FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A YEAR, and look where it got me!!), so that’s as excited as I can get right now, but I hope that all yer black dragons are draggin’ wagon-loads of money wif ’em and that y’all both have SEVERELY better years  —  hell, for ALL OF US!!!!!!


GAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!! #697,023,416

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (No Respond)

THE.  WORST.  MOVIE.  EVER.  FUCKING.  MADE. is being broadcast, nationwide, right the fuck now.

And it’s on a “network” (HA!) marketed towards “African-Americans,” known as “BOUNCE.”

And yes, as I have previously remarked, Teh Fallen Uterus is IN this monstrosity.  *I* could’ve been in it, too, *I* could’ve met JACKIE FUCKING GLEASON AND RICHARD FUCKING PRYOR, BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Bitch.

Yes, I’m way the fuck behind on January birfdays, and I’m sorry about that, but life just fucking SUCKS sometimes, don’t it.

But any entity that claims to be “for” African-American people, that plays a virulent, vomitous so-called “movie” like THE TOY —  why don’t they just do an all-day fucking rerun of BIRTH OF A FUCKING NATION“?!?!?!??!!? It’s just as “important” and “progressive” as THIS piece of shit!!!!!

There’s a very good (though with THE sloppiest research ON FUCKING EARTH, from what they know about the Civil Rights Movement in this country!!!  FIVE FUCKING YEARS BEFORE ROSA PARKS SAT DOWN IN THE “WHITE” SECTION ON THAT BUS, AFRICAN-AMERICANS IN BATON REDNECK REPUBLICUNT ROUGE WERE DOING BUS BOYCOTTS!!!!!!) mini-series on PBS right now, about Apartheid and the U.S. & international efforts and pressure on S. Africa to bring it to an end.  Talk about your neck-breaking cultural fucking WHIPLASH…  Saw 3 episodes of the mini-series last night, and then wake up to THIS shit.  ‘Cause, y’know, ALL Southerners are alike, all black people in the South are poor (yeah RIGHT bitches!), and all southern women are ILLITERATE FUCKING BIMBOS like the yankee whore that they hired to play Gleason’s arm candy.  Richard Donner should’ve been drawn & quartered after this racist piece-of-shit debacle.

And in case you’re wondering about teh F.U., scroll to the “garden party” (SUPPOSED to be a fund-raiser for “the klan,” because ignorant stereotyping fucking cockbite YANKEES DON’T EVEN KNOW THAT THE C.C.C. {Conservative Citizens’ Council} is for the RICH crackers and that the KLAN is for the fucking PO’ WHAAT TRASH!!!!!!  The C.C.C. may not still “formally” exist as an incorporated entity, but believe me, those social ties are STILL THERE.)  — you’ll only see her for about 1/3 of a second, but that pissed-off face, you will NOT miss.

It just breaks my heart that “Uncle” Ned Beatty, Richard Pryor & Jackie Gleason needed the money enough to commit an atrocity like THIS.  Cocaine’s a helluva drug, ain’t it Rick James?

(BTW, the penthouse office featured as Gleason’s HQ is the top floor of what is now a J.P. Morgan Chase/Chase Manhattan bank.  Nobody else in B.R.R.R. has that view of the river.  And Chase was one of the last U.S. companies to pull out of South Africa, apparently…  must be fate.)

Why now?

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (3 Responds)

April 3, 1986  —  around 3:40 in the afternoon, after Teh Dick had made me almost an hour late for my yearbook photography assignment (last one I’d ever have) to WASH THAT CHEAP, PAINTLESS, FUGLY PIECE OF SHIT EXCUSE FOR A CAR (Nannie’d given them OVER A GRAND to buy me a decent used car, and they spent EIGHT HUNDRED on a beer can body with a cop car engine dropped into it, and neither one of them had ever even BOTHERED, not even REMOTELY, to teach ME how to fucking drive), after he’d made me GO BACK INSIDE that morning when I noticed that big fucking strap of metal that was supposed to support/protect the electrical wiring and brake cables, just FLAP! hanging down from one end under that ugly egg-shaped 1979 Chevy Monza From Hell that I only got to have for five weeks.  I had tried crawling under there myself to see what the fuck, and he (curiously late in the day for him to be leaving for work, as he usually left at before daylight) yelled at me to GET INTO THE FUCKING HOUSE, and that HE’D FIX IT.

Made it to school and back in one piece, and he and his precious Son King and the trailer-trash gutter-whore that he’d knocked-up all seemed pretty fucking pissed about that.  Not saying that Teh Dick never did anything for me, but the majority of it was in the last 10 years of his life.  We all already know what his SON did TO me, not FOR me, and how I hadda start life all over again, from scratch, at the age of 13.5, now knowing that everything I’d been told/conned/bullshitted by them was nothing but out-and-out fucking LIES.  Weird place to be, as you’re finally giving into the gut-conscious doubts about the cult you’d clung to so ferociously.

So I finally got to leave for North Park to take those damned pictures of every fucking sport at one time, the track, tennis, softball, baseball, you name it, and I got approximately 1/5th of a mile from that ranch-style hellhole house when the brakes went out.  I remember everything up until the moment of impact, even though I wish I didn’t.

And now, my neurologist tells me that while the poisoning by Ocshner’s “pain management” CHILD “doctor” on that fucking BACLOFEN, which must be frat-boy speak for POISON THE BITCH did paralyze me for 6 fucking hours, it didn’t leave any distinguishable marks on the old shriveling noggin.  BUT, of course, there are now BLACK DOTS on my brain that he has yet to explain or give me any kind of prognosis about.  Mostly in the left brain, the hemisphere that was the first-impact site during that car crash, as the bony prominences inside the skull made some pretty bad fucking damage on the mushy grey shit.  Some damage to the right side (I always WAS so right-handed that all I can do with the left is type and tie shoes, so that didn’t seem to matter much), but nothing like what it did to my science & math.  I was supposed to get a scholarship from the Air Force, y’know.  Yeah, I know, recruiters lie faster than they breathe, but my ASVAB scores were, for that time in way-back history, were pretty remarkable for a “girl” in the electrical/electronic department, and they SAID that they wanted to send me to engineering school and have me work on and develop jet engines.  Not a shabby fucking gig.  Yeah, I was a pseudo-nouveau-hippie back then, a pacifist when it comes to blowing up other people’s shit, but DAMN, I’ve always been fascinated by how shit worked and how to play with every electronic gadget I could get my hands on, from TVs to stereos to VCRs to stealing music off of MTV by running my VCR through my stereo, because I could hardly ever afford to buy 45s, let alone ALBUMS or full cassettes, except at yard sales, and later, vinyl record conventions.

ANYWAY, that’s what the U.S. gubmint told me that my brain was good for, and it sounded like a pretty sweet deal.  Until the brakes got cut.

And now, 25+ years later, my hands can’t hold onto a cold drink or a cigarette without dropping ’em sooner or later, my “jewelry-making” shit has fallen to the wayside because my hands can’t concentrate or co-operate on ANYFUCKINGTHING, even the sewing machine, my legs get the dropsy sometimes and as I’m walking along, one will just STOP and drag behind the other, and I almost face-plant every fucking time.  And I’m sorry if I’m boring  y’all with my bullshit medical whining and so forth, but fuckit, nobody reads this shit anymore anyway.

But those black dots are mostly concentrated on the left hemisphere of my brain, and a lot of the damage that’d been ascribed to 10 years with no relief from that herniated disc in my neck pulling my spinal cord out the back of my neck and then pushing on those nerve branches that control hands and feet  —  may not be that simple, or ever going to recover, even if I *do* finally get the bone mechanic shit fixed PROPERLY this time.  Why now?  Why the fuck NOW?!?!!?

I can’t have a fucking SECOND of fucking HOPE, just once in my life, that I could possibly, just maybe, GET SOMETHING OF MY FUCKING SELF BACK, even for just a little while?!?!?  I can’t even fucking DANCE anymore, dammit.  I never was that good, never learned to dance with a partner because nobody ever let me learn, and when I was old enough to go out, nobody ever asked except for horny drunk losers who didn’t wanna know my name or my face.

Speaking of whisky dick and wasted hope…  I retired from fucking, flirting, all of it (in “polite” company, I call it “dating,” but who in the FUCK ever asked ME out on a proper fucking DATE?!?!  2 guys.  In my entire life.  And both of ’em were sorely disappointed, of course.), back in July of ’06, when I could no longer stand the humiliation, the pain, the cruelty of being cheated-upon by another closet-case, WITH A DUDE SO FUCKING UGLY IT WAS EMBARRASSING THAT THAT WAS THE “OTHER WOMAN.”  The lying thieving asshole part of it, where he lied about taking his schizophrenia medicine and then faked “conversations” with his “voices” just to mock me and hurt me, that shit didn’t help either.  I tried to be compassionate, I didn’t want to be a fucking hypocrite, I’m bisexual too, so I couldn’t turn ‘im down outright because 99.9% of all bisexual men are diseased sociopathic PARASITES who only fuck women (especially long-single FAT GIRLS) to keep a roof over their heads and food in their ungrateful guts.  Let whomever runs the cause nowadays vilify me for being sick and fucking tired of bi-boys, I don’t give a fuck, I’ve MORE THAN EARNED THE FUCKING RIGHT. 3 in one lifetime is MORE than enough.

Anyway, so I retired.  I didn’t give up that magnificent Toshiba Magic Wand that Robin sent me when Ol’ Faithful finally died, I ain’t DEAD YET, but I finally learned how to turn it all off, the rest of it.  The pheromones, the automatic response to attractive males and females, the craving of the touch of another human being, of just being HELD, of meaning something, even if it was nothing more than a half-assed orgasm (for THEM, of course, never FOR ME!), just for a minute, to another living breathing human being.  I was burnt the fuck OUT.  Dead.  And damn if I didn’t fucking LIKE IT THAT WAY.

I’d been wanting to be neutered since I was 5 years old.  I was already sick of being the sex slave of the heir apparent, tried to off myself in a swimming pool and got busted for it, but dammit, I didn’t want my CUNT telling me to OBEY ever the fuck again, ANY MORE.  I’d been looking for saltpetre all of my fucking life, to arm myself against the pathetic neediness that was so fucking cliche’ freudian it made me sick to think of myself being used as a cum-dumpster, even though that’s all I ever was.

So I finally got what I wanted.  I’d been dead inside for so long, it was such a relief to feel dead THERE, and there, and there, and all of the other places.  I felt like my heart might actually regrow a cell or two, now that I was a neuter-by-choice.  Maybe it did, I dunno.  I poured myself into artsy-fartsy shit, even though the narcotics killed the right-brain that had always let me WRITE, when I could do nothing else, I could still WRITE, but not anymore.  The drugs had stopped being “fun” a long fucking time ago, but being A DEAD-HEAD of the wrong flavor, that wasn’t any fucking fun.  Y’all have been here, you’ve seen the decline and fall.  But at least I fucking TRIED to get my brain back, to get my body fixed, to somehow, someday, have a fucking LIFE again, once I finally got back to what was supposed to still be “civilization” again.  Ha.

I was cured, at least, of my cunt.  Yeah, I missed the smell of a man, the taste of a woman, the touch of a human being who really hated my guts but who wanted to say that they’d planted a flag here (you’d be surprised at the “old college friends” that you run into later, when none other old college friends are around, who suddenly DO wanna fuck you, but then give you NOTES on your PERFORMANCE!!!), you never stop missing that, no matter how old or damaged you get.  And yup, no matter what I appear on the surface: scarred, sagging, totally-top-teef-toofless, irreparably broken, what THEY always see, no matter how “interested” or repulsed they may be, is ALWAYS a giant, Schlitz-Light-neon-style sign that screams, “DAMAGED GOODS!!!  Come one, come all, Losers, Users & Abusers take yer shots!”

And then, the Sunday before the fake-ass xmas date, I was in The Dungeon, which no longer exists as I have known it the past 17+ years (more on that later), sitting on those tortuously-unpadded barstools, with my meager offerings of gothling jewelry, cheap purses out of fabulous fabrics, etc., on the ass-ledge thingamabob attached to the wall next to the upstairs DJ bar, with its miniscule dance floor that I used to fucking RULE, back when I had a spine and a neck and a pelvis.  Not even ONE taker, nobody even LOOKED for a last-minute gift that was better than a fucking GIFT CARD, nuttin’ honey.

Four or so hours of this shit, spending money I don’t have that I hadda bum offa Redcane, as per the usual, in walks this guy, about my height (pre-spine-height-losses), young, SO fucking YOUNG, but pissed-off and adorably trying to appear all cynical and bored.  Brilliant ginger hair, and then it hit me  —  THOSE EYES. Like a fucking hypnotic magnet.  Biggest, bluest eyes I’ve ever seen on an actual human/living creature, including anime’ and E.T.  Blue eyes are a rare thing in the non-old-money/nouveau-riche-white-trash-klan-wannabe neighborhoods of this state.  And as I shot the shit with the female bartenders, other chicks looking to bum a cigarette but not buy a damned thing, there he was.  Standing there, waiting for the chicks to disperse.  Said that he was 31, I called bullshit, he admitted to 27.  Should’ve demanded I.D.  Smart, funny, Scots-Irish, politically aware, and he just kept STARING AT ME.  Like I was something special or something, not like he wanted to drag me behind a dumpster & slit my throat, which was the usual “come-on-look” in Miami.

I told him, eventually, that I was “retired,” that I’d not let another human touch me (though I’d come close to committing homicide mere moments before he arrived, on a fat aging fucktard who thought that he was the love child of Meatloaf and a wild boar, and that’s really insulting Meat AND wild boars!) in any meaningful or intimate way in over 5 years.  But damn, he wanted to kiss me.

And I know where every single surveillance camera in that building is located and aimed, and wasn’t any way in HELL that I was going to provide the new oughta-be-in-New-Zealand-as-an-extra-in-the-next-Hobbit-movie motherfucker down front with the entertainment.  So we adjourned to the “front” of the Dungeon bar (a separate entity that Chicky absorbed into the main structure, at least thematically & fiscally), where I had, by gauging the cameras & their angles, figured that we could make out & flirt, etc., with relative “privacy.”  For a bar.  In the French Quarter.  Shut the fuck up, it can TOO be done.  I just didn’t pull it off entirely THAT night.

Even knowing that I wasn’t going to “put out,” he wanted to come home with me.  He was weird about some things, very self-protective, but hey, he was the first human in 5.5 years that I thought that I could actually TRUST  —  I gave him the leeway.  We had a lot of fun, or so I thought.  Until his fucking cell phone alarm goes off 3 hours after I go to sleep, minus the cuddling that I’d craved.  Wham, not so much bam, and no thank you ma’am, he was OUTTA HERE.  Told me to call him, didn’t mean it.  The usual shit.  Except this time, it actually fucking HURT.

I was THE HUNTRESS, back in the day, I used THEM up, chewed ’em up and moved on immediately.  I always left the theoretical door open, gave even the biggest losers that I’d sunk to dragging home with me the opportunity to treat me like a  human being, or at LEAST gracing me with a fucking COURTESY CALL.  Rarely did that happen, and the very few times that it did, I turned into a fucking DOORMAT, as those familiar with my rants will attest.  Dunno why, but I was a pathetic loser, every fucking time, and every fucking time, they turned out to be the parasitic, ambition-free, uncaring little penitos that I knew, ohhh, how I fucking knew, them to be already.  But I was too fucking stubborn, too fucking proud, to admit defeat until THEY fucked-up badly enough for me to “justify” the eviction from my house and/or life.  I was tough enough to take ’em all on.  Even the crackhead bi-boy (“Bisexual,” my fat tattooed ass, he PREFERRED MEN, ESPECIALLY IF THEY BOUGHT HIM FUCKING CRACK!!!!!!  And  yes, I actually WAS, back in ’99, stupid/naive/affected-by-prednisone-and-vicodin ENOUGH to take him for “JUST an alcoholic.”  Fuck, I’d had to fucking RAISE the alcoholic who allegedly spawned me, I was USED to THAT shit, right?) who tried to kill me in my own bed.  I saw all of the big ol’ billboards of warning signs flying past, and ignored every fucking one, as the worst example of a “feminist” who ever fucking lived.  And we all know what I got out of THAT.

And then, outta nowhere, this redheaded kid, almost young enough to be my spawn, with those HUGE BLUE EYES, convinces me that, despite the younger, skinnier, possibly healthier bitches in the bar, including the hot bartendress in the Venus bar (“barmaid” STILL pisses me off!), HE wanted ME.  Yep, he was THAT drunk, and THAT good of a salesman.  I wish that I’d been able to be drunk enough to see through him, as apparently, my narcotic-inflicted sobriety has destroyed my bullshit radar for good.  Maybe he really did mean well.  Maybe he really WAS attracted to me.  But those whole 10-minute phone conversations afterwards did NOT support his initial assertions.  He was just being “polite,” I s’pose.  But then, I’ve NEVER been the girl that anyone takes home to Mother, unless he’s a flaming-queen schizophrenic trying to convince Mama & evil-prick Step-Daddy that he’s “straight.”

And I’m sure that this boy has NEVER had to convince anyone of his heterosexuality.  He just wouldn’t ever want to have to explain to anyone why on EARTH he’d ever be seen in public with the likes of ME.  It shouldn’t piss me off, it shouldn’t hurt, it shouldn’t leave a mark, but it does.  I’ve been over this shit for DECADES, hence The Huntress persona, the one-nighters that I always initiated with nothing more than one determined moment of eye contact across a crowded bar.  And hence the retirement, not from a feminist stance per se, as I’d used that as my reasoning for having more sex than all of my platonic guy & gal friends could EVER get in college, to prove some retarded point that I really can’t recall right now.  I’m TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT.

So… since this was before I knew about the black spots in my brain, what made me so weak and so stupid?  Dain bramage from multiple attempted murders?  Dain bramage from 14 years on and off of fucking narcotics because of hack “surgeons” and “titanium” hardware that never holds?  Or was I just so weak and lonesome because this was my first no-longer-an-aunt/not-even-a-FALLACY/PHALLUSY of a “family” “HOLIDAY SEASON” since MY SON, yes, a fucking CAT, MY BOY died? It can’t just be those eyes, or that hair, or that voice, or the words that were all lies.  I can’t have regressed THAT badly, to where I actually FALL for that shit again, can I?  Yeah, yeah, we’re all human, we all fuck up, blah blah blah fucking blah.

I need empirical EVIDENCE, I need a fucking EXPLANATION.  WHY NOW?!?!?!? It wasn’t just those huge blue eyes, dammit, and it sure as hell wasn’t the 10 pounds of corseting and bustier to make me look like I still have tits and didn’t have to wear the hideous back brace for a change.

It may finally be time to put me in The Home, kids, and divvy-up Annti’s belongings, ’cause apparently, I can no longer be trusted to take care of myself the way that I have to TAKE CARE OF MYSELF. 3050 WORDS for this shit.  Fuckit, at least it helped ME, or it might in the future, somehow.  I’ll never be a part-time half-assed dominatrix again, I didn’t really enjoy anything but the outfits about it before, anyway, but dammit, if I can’t KICK ASS TO SAVE MINE anymore, I’m ready for The Home.

Oh Oh

Posted by Terrible under Uncategorized (2 Responds)

oh oh looks like Darth forgot to stack the Montana Supreme Court the way he did SCOTUS. It seems that not only do they not consider corporations citizens protected by First Amendment rights but they don’t consider the filthy anti-America Citizens United decision to be worth a plug nickel. Expect to hear of Cheney going in for another new battery soon and of a predator drone attack on the Montana Supreme Court building.

ACADEMI is the new word…

Posted by Terrible under Uncategorized (3 Responds)

…for useless weak cowardly thieving murderous piece of crap. Formerly referred to as XE, formerly formerly referred to as Blackwater. If you’re looking for some worthless turd-licker who’ll happily falsify expenses on your cost-plus contract while totally fucking up the mission and breaking as many laws as possible in the process ACADEMI offers one stop shopping.

(used to know the html code to stick that link in somewhere but can’t think of it now so fuck it)

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Terrible, I hope to hell that this works…

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (2 Responds)

I’m 3 days with no sleep, so if the back-dating this post doesn’t work and I push YOUR post, which is actually ABOUT SOMETHING RELEVANT TO THE ACTUAL WORLD, down the page, please accept my most sincere apologies.  But if I don’t get this shit out of my skull, I’m going to keep making all of my friends, including you, so fucking miserable-by-contagion that y’all might finally put me out of my misery, just to get me to SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY.

Today was my Nannie’s birthday.  Since 7 of her 9 siblings lived into their late 90’s, yes, she SHOULD still be alive, at a fierce and sardonic 98, in her own home, living her own life, never once forced to move UP TO WEST REDNECKISTAN and live in that DEATH SHACK where she was illegally deprived of her adulthood, her personhood, her basic human rights, access to ACTUAL medical care and her hard-earned and long-saved money.

If I hadn’t left her to move to New Orleans, she’d still be alive.  Period.  And if she hadn’t been stolen from us far far too soon, Tater would probably still be alive, too.  If she’d never been bullied into selling HER house, which she paid for every fucking bit as much as Papa did, bless his heart, working nights in Ethyl Chemical’s R&D lab and days as pastor to broke-as-fuck, Depression-babies dirt farmers, giving them the literal shirt off of his back and the shoes off of his feet when needed.  Nannie taught public school for 43 long-ass years, plus 2 years at a private school that really wasn’t worth the commute.  At least HER pension plan, despite many an embezzlement attempt, still EXISTED when she retired, as opposed to Papa’s pension from suddenly-bankrupt Ethyl.

Y’all already know all about my Nannie & Papa and the losers that they had to bribe out of aborting me, as well as the no-neck dog-murdering child-rapist to whom they turned me over like the runt of an unwanted litter.  Sorry to be so fucking repetitive.  It’s not because I “can’t MOVE ON,” thankyewverymuch, judgemental motherfuckers who DON’T GET IT  —  it’s because the motherfuckers are STILL FUCKING UP MY LIFE, ON A DAY-TO-DAY BASIS, THIRTY-NINE YEARS AFTER THE FACT…  well, 42 since the bribery that made me be born, but 39 since I was pimped-out.  I still love my great-nephew(s) (well, the ones that I know, anyway!) and great-nieces with all of my heart, but even if I had the money to send them or to buy them presents, I have no fucking clue where to send them, and the Fallen Uterus screams and throws shit-fits whenever I leave gifts for the babies at HER house, the whirling vortex of all that is evil and the only way that I could possibly give those kids gifts in ANY fashion.  I don’t even know where in the fuck that they LIVE anymore, so no, the USPS is no good to me there, any more than it is with y’all’s over-a-year-late birfday presents.

If Nannie & Tater were still alive, shit wouldn’t be like this, and those lowlife illiterate cocksuckers would never have DARED lie to teh Dick about me like that, turning my entire fucking life upside-down and shortening Boy’s life as well.  Well, them and the scumbag johns for that whorehouse across the corner.  Sorry, being redundant again.

I just can’t stop thinking about how many billions of ways that I’ve failed Nannie, Papa, Tater and Boy.  Teh Dick never claimed me and never admitted that I ***ever*** did ANYTHING right, except ONCE, and of course, teh Fallen Uterus and her OTHER penile-blessed Massah just had to DESTROY THE ONE GIFT THAT TEH DICK EVER PICKED OUT FOR ME ALL ON HIS OWN, because he actually SAW how fucking hard I worked, ONCE in my life.  So him dying might’ve given his goat-sucking scumbag spawn free rein to destroy the very-limited links I had to the great-nieces & great-nephews, but he never liked me, so I can’t say as I actually “failed” HIM, since he never thought that I’d ever amount to anything.  Since I wasn’t knocked-up and/or married before 19, he knew that I’d never git mahself a MAYUNN, thereby rendering me USELESS.  ‘Course, to him, the biggest insult possible is to accuse me of being a “dyke,” but nope, kiddo, ya never got that one right, either.  Well, HALF-right, but “close” don’t count for anything but hand grenades & horseshoes.  Sorry, Dick, but these aren’t even the worst things you did to me.  The ONE person that I wanted to impress, in my entire life, SHE’S BEEN GONE FOR OVER ELEVEN YEARS, and with no goals, no ideas, no inspiration, WTF?  Who gives a fuck, anyway?

Off-topic again.  Gee, wonder why nobody even bothers to come here and skim through new posts anymore…  wonder why that could be…  oh, yeah.  ME.

And no, I am *not* throwing this shit up on the wall just to get attention or to climb up on a fucking cross or funeral pyre or pick-yer-self-nominated-martyrdom-bullshit, I’m hacking this out (can’t call it actual “writing,” by a far stretch!) because all I can think of right now is of the family, the REAL family, that I used to have, and how they’re all dead, and what I could have done to stop that, or at least delay it by a decade or so.  Nope, no illusions about being Wonder Woman, Barbara Jordan, Shirley Chisolm, Xena, Isis or Ann Richardson.  But everybody has moments in their lives that, later on, when it’s too fucking late, we realize that we HAD had the chance to change everything, but all we can do now is hate ourselves for having fucked it up.  My Nannie should still be alive and living IN HER HOME. I’d still weigh 300 pounds, probably be a raging alcoholic and possibly have a pacemaker, but if I had it to do over again, that’s what I need to do.  To go back and never leave my Nannie behind, just because I was stoopid enough to think that I stood a snowball’s chance in Waco at “being somebody.” Ya can’t get published without being born rich and/or connected or having attended the “right” college, to somehow belong to some clique of below-average assholes who can convince the other poseurs that their shit is high art/hilarious as all fuck/worth the paper it’s printed upon.  Everybody TELLS you that you oughta be in print, but nobody “knows how,” and they sure as hell never taught me how to get it done in any of my high school or college courses.  Yeah, if I could afford it, the stigma’s been detached from self-published books, one of the funniest books I’ve ever had (Better Living Through Bad Movies) was a self-print, and it turned-out damned well.  But, again, the printers tend to want their money up front.  Screenplays, as Scott can tell ya, are a helluva lot harder to sell, despite the plethora of outright SHIT that makes it into theaters every fucking week of every fucking year.

So, no point to it whatsofuckingever, but Happy Birthday, Nannie. I miss  you every minute of every day, and not just because I couldn’t hold my shit together without you.  I miss your laugh, your delicate little hands, your flawless and viciously-hilarious impressions of phony bitches who pissed you off, your spontaneous expressions of love, even if they were almost-never verbal or in a physical presence  —  I still have so many questions that I never thought to ask, so much about you that I will never know.  Same for Papa, same for Aunt Thelma, same for Tater.  Gone too damned soon, so much left unsaid.  So many things that I fucked-up and can never fix.  Time travel makes for good sci-fi, sometimes, but I don’t see it coming to fruition any sooner than me hitting the powerball.

And oh, what I would not give, to have recorded your conversations with Thelma, when y’all gossiped about people who’d been dead 40 years, and giggled like schoolgirls the whole way through.  Aunt Thelma & Bertha Louise…  it would’ve made one helluva flick.  If that time travel thing ever works out, I’m taking a video camera back with me, fuck the historical timeline or whether I could’ve afforded it or not.  Fuck continuity, that shit was PRICELESS.

Better late than pregnant!

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (1 Respond)

Well, fuck, it’s the only “positive” spin that I can put on having already MISSED birfdays of my dearly-beloveds, along with the year-long failure of not having been able to mail a SINGLE FUCKING PREZZIE OUT since I left Crackery Zachary, home of the PURELY-SUBJECTIVE NEO-NAZI-PUNKS-IN-TRAINING-PANTS tickets for DRIVING WHILE LIBRUL, NON-BREEDING AND SINGLE FEMALE.  If y’all thought that the REAL New Orleans was expensive to live in, compared to the rest of the state, y’all ain’t seen SHIT.  The NEW New Orleans is nothing BUT carpetbagger prices, from the Winn-Dixie where I can NEVER get a handicapped space ’cause the male-menopause over-compensator “cops” working detail CAN’T BE FUCKING BOTHERED, to the movie theaters, smoke shops, bars, parking, doctor’s offices, buses, and ESPECIALLY gasoline.  The ORIGINAL carpetbaggers must be cackling their fat white-trash asses off from their bunkers in hell (just to the left of Dick Cheney’s basement) at the TOTAL FUCKING ***SCAMS*** perpetrated upon us NOW.  My one consolation is remembering all of the women of the French Quarter, whether high-born Creole or “back door” Creole from free people of color AND freed slaves, DUMPING THEIR CHAMBER POTS OFF THE BALCONIES AS THE YANKEE TROOPS PARADED DOWN DECATUR STREET and alllll up & down Royal.  Bibul-banging pseudo-xian republicunt trust-fund babies can kiss my ass, this is a town for TROUBLE-MAKIN’ WOMEN!!!!!!

(RX warning:  hadda go cold-turkey on the birth-control pills again (nope, not USING them, just trying to fight The Cramps From Hell!!!) b/c of even FURTHER skin perversions/abnormalities, partly thanks to the EVIL NO-DICK MOTHERFUCKERS WHO VANDALIZED THE A/C OUT OF MY TRUCK ON MAY FIRST. And fuuuuuuck a buSpring 09 Bubbe Boy Resplendent Upon His Royal Cushionncha WALLY WORLD SUNSCREEN —  about as “good” for my skin as the BURNING skin atrocities from those thieving cocksuckers @ AVON and their bitches @ Travelers’ Insurance!!!!!!  So if I get overly soppy/loquacious as I blather on, it ain’t ALL my fault, believe it or not.  My body is just starved for estrogen & progesterone.  Sue me.  And may Bubbe-Boy’s ghost haunt every one of those peckerheads and leave “surprises” in all their suitcases, too!!!)

Okayyyyy, THAT sermon over, here’s to the IMPORTANT shit: BIRFDAYS!!!!!! Too many already passed, but many more to come!

On the 2nd, ’twas another day of thrills and chills and culinary adventures for my dearly-beloved Rene’/RenB, and yes, I still wish to fuck and back that he’d come back to the states.  I understand why he doesn’t, duh. It’s like that ecard about Thanksgiving reminding you of why you moved AWAY from yer “relatives” IN THE FIRST FUCKING PLACE.(I searched for that fucker for an HOUR and couldn’t find it, so maybe y’all can!) At least he’s got one of the coolest pops on earth, our dear Raffles, a hell-raiser nonagenarian who’s STILL up to trouble! May Rene’ live at least as long, as long as he outlives ME, ’cause NOBODY gets off of this planet BEFORE ME, any fucking more, dig?  Yeah, I know, morbid-as-fuck dark humor for a birfday wish, but Rene’ gets it, and that’s all that matters.  One of the bestest friends I’ve ever had that I never even met, and someday, that damned powerball’s gonna come in and we are gonna go all over Europe, shopping the place BALD. Especially those Italian pope-slippers, but y’all KNOW that THIS bitch ain’t gonna EVER pay RETAIL*, especially if they look like Pope Panzerfaust/Chupacabra!!!  How Rene’ survives amongst so many of teh many-fanged-one’s acolytes, I have nooooo fucking idea, I just hope that they don’t stress HIM out as much as they do me!  (so to speak.  NOBODY “does” ME anymore, for five long, helluva-lot-easier years!)

Today, the 4th, is the natal celebration of the biggest slut on Facebook, our dearly-beloved Wo’C compatriot, Actor212, aka Carl. Sometimes I wonder if that boy didn’t escape from shine-running territory in the Appalachians, but he’s still a pretty cool guy, even if he can’t outrun the revinoors.  Haven’t heard much from him lately, but at least I know that he knows, wherever he may be getting cute women drunk tonight, that I’m still singing, “NEENER-NEENER NYEH-NYEH, NYEH-NYEAH NA BOO-BOO, I’LL ALWAYS BE YOUNGER THAN YOU!!!!!!” At any rate, Carl, have a happy and a horny (like we need to tell him THAT!) birfday, fulla good drinks and better times, gorgeous women (not jail bait!) who do you some FABULOUS prezzie-type favors for your birfday!

Tuesday the 6th is a day that I always *especially* celebrate, and not just ’cause I’ve spent all of that poor man’s money on trying to not look like a meth whore and not having to live in the truck.  REDCANE!!! He ain’t around here much lately, workin’ his fingers to the bone as always, but he knows how much he is loved and appreciated, not just by me but also by the whole M.O.B. family. For your birfday, Redcane, I hope that you get laid enough to hafta walk like John Wayne, but never have to wear those shitty rugs!!!  May the lotto/powerball kick in for you, and me, too, so that you never have to rescue me ever again!  And if I could, I’d send you hot-and-cold running highly-educated hot chicks, and all the best leather available on the fair-trade market!  Love & hugs & gratitude, my friend.

On the 8th, we have to remember that, even though we whupped their asses TWICE (see:  Johnny Horton’s biggest hit, even though Andrew Jackson was a genocidal maniac when it came to us damned dirty Injuns!!), that there are occasionally decent Limeys over thar, and as much as they envy/mock us simultaneously, that they NEEEEEED us as much as we need them (though the only “need” for Tony Blair, aside from being Dumbya’s lap-dog, in the lap-lap-lap sense!  —  would be as a men’s room attendant @ some Librul-Commie LABOUR club, if such a thing still exists, ’cause he sure as hell needs to remember what the Labour Party was actually ABOUT, damned boot-licker!) , and sometimes, they’re even intelligent and entertaining *(See Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman), and oh yeah, Andy’s been known to make me crack a smile, even if he usually provokes me into cracking a whip.  And no, he’ll NEVER have enough money to bring ME outta retirement!  In ANY sense of the word… heh heh heh… Hope that you land a loverly lady soon, son, or we’re going to start taking up a collection, and no, I don’t think that PIPPA is the IDEAL GIRL, so give up on THAT.  Adele would make a loverly in-law, especially if she comped me a few CDs and tickets…  Think that we could get you up next to her???  It’s a nice thought, ain’ t it…  Send progress reports!

THIS 11th is for Tiffany Rose, the dearly-beloved of Rekanize, a dear long-term friend (I was going to link to his photography/work site, but it kept redirecting to fucking CAFE’ PRESS, and we KNOW how I feel about THEM!!) who may or may not be moving back to New Orleans some time in the past year or next year.  Hey, it ain’t many broads who let me KEEP my guy friends (If I’d WANTED to fuck him, I’d have done so before he ever MET YOU ANYWAY, so RELAAXXXXX, bitches!!!  Thankfully, I’ll never have to have that conversation with Tiff.  Besides, as adorable as Donovan is, his disco music would make me puncture my own eardrums.  All the love in the world for the boy, but give an old album-oriented-rock broad a BREAK.), so I am especially thankful that Tiffany is one of the coolest women I’ve ever met, AND she sends FABULOUS goody boxes, too! Happy-happy joy joy and may y’all come back to civilization SOON!!!

Oh, my, on the 15th, it’s one of the VERY VERY FEW republicans (I’m being NICE here, gimme a break) that I have to admit is generally a decent human being, my old-back-at-LSU-days bud formerly known as “AwCResQ,” or Norrie if she likes you.  Soooo many jokes that I *could* make, but nobody would get ’em but us, and they’re so dated, WE might not even remember!  A whole nother year of critter rescuing (but not letting ’em take over the whole house or your whole year!), hard work and appropriate renumerations, and my sick faith that someday, somehow, I will FINALLY drag you out of The Dark Side and over here with the rest of us critter-defending dirty-hippie freaks.

The 18th brings us the joy of knowing that fetal phantasmagoria, Hermes, one of the snarkiest, funniest brains-for-days fellas I’ve ever had the pleasure to know, even I am the laziest blog-neighbor in the world and never remember to go visit worth a shit.  Here’s hoping that he is able to finally figure out how to eliminate the republicunts from this planet and leave the buildings standing, someday SOON.  He’s GOT to know some “Big Bang Theory”-type folk who can help him with the chemical formulas and distribution mechanisms.  WHAT?!?!? *I* think about this shit all of the time, and I can’t be the ONLY one, can I???  Hugs & love, sociology boy!

The 20th brings us a fabulous lady to whom I can only refer as “Mrs. Realist,” as I dunno her online nics or where she hangs out on teh innernet toobs.  Tougher’n a pine knot, funny as hell, and able to whup a t-bone car wreck with one arm broken!  Another really cool broad who keeps one of my favorite fellers functional and free.  Thanks for everything, honey, and keep them shitty drivers in line!

On the 21st, we celebrate the existence of the one and only Doghouse Riley of Bats Left, Throws Right, a World O’Crap regular of no small  import.  We may not be tighter’n thieves, but few commenters or bloggers have impressed me quite so often with snarky brilliance that’s even historically correct!  Happy happy joy joy, Doghouse, and hope you swing by once in a while!!!

On the 22nd, our dearly-beloved and MIA for far too long Miss Poppy (anybody who knows where & how she is, please lemme know!!!) hits another milestone, but of course, with her secret work as a non-gubmint espionage specialist, we can’t tell ya which one…  Most of all, we wish her health and happiness and to someday soon grace us again with her beautiful presence!

Lastly but hardly leastly, on the 27th, a dear friend of long standing and immeasurable patience (all the more remarkable for a reformed COP!  Hee hee hee…), Officer Phil of San Diego fame and brilliance.  Anything you EVER wanna know about NDN/Native American history, Phil’s got it or can find it for ya!  Sending love and hope that the damned winds die down out there, at least long enough to light all of those birfday candles without starting another fucking canyon fire!  XOXOXO  Happy happy joy joy!!!

Well, folks, them’s the yolks, and I am pooped.  Keep good thoughts about everybody over at WoC and all of our birfday babies in your minds, and hope that I don’t need BAIL MONEY anytime soon…  and that somehow, someday, I will GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS PARTICULAR CORPORATE-OWNED HELLHOLE!!!!!!

*(I have a Hebrew given name and a Scottish surname  —  I’ve never paid retail a day in my life!!!)

Just for the hell of it, this picture always cheers me up…

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (2 Responds)

…while yes, I’d usually pull for the wolf, seeing as how they’ve been vilified and needlessly slaughtered for millennia, in this case, it’s the perfect fucking sight gag. Also, I like t think of it as a little cybernetic prezzie for Sid, my favorite cusses-almost-as-much-as-I-do little Cockney bunny rabbit.  Personally, I’d have picked the name “Vyvyan,” but maybe that’s just me…

Also, when those of us who can afford to wade out, tit-deep, in the xmas-raging insanity of shopping orgies over the next month stop, and think about it for a minute  —  throw a shekel towards World O’Crap, or here (y’all KNOW that I have less pride left than teeth!), or, more importantly, towards, Habitat For Humanity, the SPCA, Meals On Wheels, the VFW, Books For Soldiers, the U.S.O., and of course, ******OXFAM******. The horn of Africa could just as easily be us, for the millions of people still going hungry in THIS country, but even at our poorest, our most-decrepit, our most ill, our most heartbroken, look at one picture of Eastern Africa this year, and tell me that we’re not , even after EVERY Republicunt Asses Of Evil fucking OUTRIGHT TREASONOUS MOTHERFUCKING STUNT TO KEEP US ALL THIS WAY —  we’re still at least SOMEWHAT better off than most of the fucking world. I’ve been homeless, several of us have, but we MADE IT WORK. We found a way, despite the Reaganomics-will-never-die GUTTING of governmental infrastructure in this FREE-MARKET SLAVES TO THE CORPORATE MASSAHS/Nixonites-still-in-power world. Not everyone is so fucking fortunate.  The people on the receiving end of NAFTA, CAFTA & FTAA know what it means to be a fucking SLAVE. In every possible connotation, except for you lifestyle-latex freaks.

Though, one last note, and this is just a suggestion: but if you’re donating in lieu of going out and buying presents for your nearest & dearest, you might wanna consult with them FIRST, ’cause I have seen, in person, the brain-rending stress of being told that you just planted a tree in Israel or bought a herd of goats in Africa, by well-meaning people who still fail to realize THAT YOU CAN’T PAY YOUR FUCKING RENT, LIGHT BILL, OR ANYTHING ELSE.  I fucking LOVE the idea as charity-instead-of-consumerism, it’s way past its due, but stay charitable to your people, too, that’s all. And NO, I am NOT the one with a tree in Israel or a herd of goats, though I bet those goats are REALLY fucking warm this time of year, if you’ve gotta snuggle-down in ye old yurt.

Lastly, even though our dearly-beloved Miss Poppy has been MIA for a LONG fucking time, and it worries me immensely, considering that the last time that I got to “talk” with her in e-mail, it was for her to show me her POST-BRAIN-SURGERY *SCAR* and her new “faux-hawk” as a result. Nope, she did NOT want the world to know, and no, she did not have any kind of cancer or encephalitis or everything else can kill a brain (aside from being surrounded by bigoted mouth-breathing fucking REPUBLICUNTS).  But since I haven’t heard from her SINCE THEN, nor has she re-opened her shop, I WORRY. Fucking sue me.

Dan & Tammy are still going strong up thar in the boonies of Hoquiam, WA, and we hope that you’ll find some good books (like maybe to donate to “Books For Soldiers,” while you’re at the shopping!!!) and other treasures in their store.  I also have over a couple dozen other great friends who are artisans, jewelry artists that make me SOOOO fucking ENVIOUS, gemstone & jewelry dealers, craft artists, and alllll KINDA cool shit, they offer for sale from their many and varied shops (And mebbe if you’re nice & mention me, by this nic or the real-life name, they MIGHT throw a little lagniappe your way!  MEBBE.  No deals worked-out in advance, but give it a shot anyway!).  It being 5:35A, a wee bit late even for ME, I saidly must defer THEIR annual plug-list until tomorrow. I know, a trillion years too late & eighty billion dollars short for the annual consumerist orgy that still tries to pass itself off as a cult-based “holy day.” SORRRR-REEEEE.

Been dealing with a lotta shit here, including the disappearance of Candice, my oft-vanished surrogate nearly-adopted kinda “daughter” in Texas.  Dunno if the phone’s cut off or if she & her b/f the Hobbit (in a GOOD way!) are cold & homeless, or if she’s just been slammed with so many double shifts that she can’t see straight, but if anybody is in any of the suburbs of Houston, I can tell ya which Wally World to go look in, if anyone’s interested in setting my rapidly-shriveling mind at ease.  Already lost all of the “nieces” and remaining “nephew” 3 years ago, the lying bullshit that killed Teh Dick, and ergo, all access to the great-nephews & great-nieces, only two or three of whom remember who the fuck that I am. Not letting Candice go, dammit.  Can’t lose anybody else, ANY FUCKING MORE, get it?  Good.


Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (1 Respond)

They oughta be paid a SALARY for this shit!!!

First the PayPal link, which is longer than FUCK.

Here’s hoping that I copied that properly and didn’t cock it all up, especially considering that Mary, Scott, Sheri, and my whole WO’C famliy are some of the most precious people in the world for me, and who have done more to help ME survive than any other bloggers on earth, and damned close to Redcane/Nannie territory.

Yes, half the bloggers on the planet helped-out during Katrina and the world’s worst/most-embarrassing OUTRIGHT FUCKING SCAM perpetrated by that Fred’s Super Ghetto Store “manager” over a brain tumor that never existed, and NO, she will NEVER go to jail.  Must be blowing all of the right people.

But I’m not on here to blather about MY fucking failures. Go forth and read Scott’s & Mary’s own words on why they (which a VERY FUCKING RARE EVENT!!!) are humbly and sincerely asking for your help.

If you need to buy a gift and can’t do that AND donate, buy THE.  BEST.  HOT-TEA/HOT-COCOA MUG ON ERF!!!! Buy the FIRST installment in an indefatigable series of “Better Living Through Bad Movies,” which will make your friend/loved one damned near pee his/her pants laughing, WHILST LEARNING very important life lessons, as only S.Z., Scott & Mary could teach them. I wish that they had a whole store o’ snark, with viciously evil bumperstickers that I’d happily write for them (YES, *some* of them would carry a weak, sniveling, MERE PG-13 RATING!!!), but we gotta find a better platform than Cafe’ Press, after what Cafe’ Press did to censor Jesus’ General for his mocking-the-mondern-day-fucking-NAZIs graphic.  I shit y’all not.  They can’t tell the difference between CONSTITUTIONALLY-PROTECTED POLITICAL SPEECH/SATIRE and a PRO-HITLER T-SHIRT!!!!!! (UPDATE:  THEY’VE GOT A T-SHIRT UP NOW, along with a bidness journal AND what looks to be a VERY promising BUMPERSTICKER!!!)

See what I mean?  Maybe when more work gets tidied-up and compiled towards the ends of this 2nd installment of the book, I can nag Scott & Mary into letting me write tremendously rude bumperstickers for them,  if we can find the right Sticker Monkey Junkie-style printer AND a sales platform with MORALS.  A bitch can DREAM, right?!?!?

IN THE MEAN TIME, please, please, PLEASE, whatever you have to spare, be it five bucks or fifty, please DO help Scott & Mary. As y’all well know, since the lie conspiracy that killed Teh Dick last year, I literally have NO fucking “family” except for Candice, my semi-adopted surrogate TWENTY-YEAR-OLD-ALREADY (!!!) AND Y’ALL!!!!!!

We gotta keep the band together kids, otherwise, what the fuck are we gonna do when we gotta get the band BACK TOGETHER?!?!!?  Ain’t like we can drag Ray Charles back from the dead to play that Hammond electric piano and get us the best instruments on hock, y’know.

Y’all are my family. I know, even in my darkest, dankest, most-painful, most-abused, most-pointless days here in Bigot Hell #3, that I am loved.

It may not be whole-conversations-every-day love, though I am missing the hell outta Mentis lately and I hope that it’s not because I still haven’t mailed HIS birfday present yet, EITHER!!!  There’s a giant paper-towel box sitting under Aunt Thelma’s round kitchen table, FULL-UP to the fucking BRIM with y’all’s presents.  I just suck at getting them DELIVERED.  I’m sorry.  Turly and deeply and forever.

And yes, I realize how much pressure and how alienating that it can be for y’all, to constantly hear me saying how much I love y’all and need y’all in my life, AND NO, not just FOR THE MONEY!!! —  but I’d rather over-say it than not say it enough.  I never got to tell Tater before they pulled his plug, they pulled the plug on Nannie before I could drive almost 200 miles in 75 minutes, when Papa died, they just finally unplugged him and finally allowed him to escape THE most-torturous drawn-out death that I have ever witnessed.  When Daddy, aka Teh Dick, died, the TRYING-TO-INVALIDATE-HIS-NOT-AN-ORGAN-DONOR ORDERS motherfucking organ-harvesting VULTURES had ALREADY quick-cooled his body down to FORTY DEGREES by the time that we were allowed to see him.  None were ideal situations for any involved, except for the Fallen Uterus.  But most of all, selfish narcissist that I am, I never got to say goodbye.  I wasn’t even holding Boy when he gasped his last excruciating breath.

So a long as y’all are masochistic enough to accept my e-mails and occasionally actually SHOW UP HERE, YOU’RE IN. Just like Pacino, you can keep TRYING to get out, but I’ll almost always (and yes, it breaks my heart to remember the TRUE friends that I’ve lost and can’t get back) manage to drag you back in, make whatever dirty jokes you will outta THAT ONE.

Sorry for the blathering, I’m a LONG time past bedtime.  But please, please please, DON’T FORGET MARY & SCOTT & S.Z., kay? If y’all haven’t made it over to World O’Crap, GO.  You will never regret it, which I can’t say about many blogs on this planet.  Support the arts, support publiv healthcare, support their Feline Overlords, but most of all, support 3 of the funniest, wittiest, most-intelligent motherfuckers that I have ever known.

If anybody else is planning a fundraiser or blog-maintenance kitty-rattling post, please let me know so that I can get it up on here in tmie.

AND: I hate like all hell to do this to y’all this way, but a HUMONGOUS and ashamedly-belated virtual hug & kiss & laughter-gift to our beloved Suzy Cream Cheese from November 7th!!!!!! If you live near or know our dear-hearted Suzy IRL, please, whomever you are, wherever you are, I ask you to hug on her and love on her and give her planty of sugar for me and the whole MOB/WOC mob, ’cause we miss her and need her back around here soon!!!

Much of the same could be said of our other birfday girl, CCMcGoon, whose birfday is on the 28th of this month.  Miss her wit, intelligence, and visceral righteous indignation that empowers her to call BULLSHIT!!!!!!” on all that ain’t right.  And while I hope that she never encounters a certain alleged “retired Marine” DRUMMER up thar in tha Panhandle, I hope that, as her last birfday prezzie hasn’t even been sent, that if I can’t get her prezzie to her, that SOMEBODY will have the sense to give that girl a HUGE hug & a kiss from me and all of us here at MOB  —  we miss you and love you and WANT YOU BACK HOME, HEIFER!!!!!!

(Sorry to not have links for the birfday girls right yet, but I’ll come back and fix ’em when I have an active brain cell, my loverly, highly-admirable ladies.)

Lastly, as a part of my general-sentiments about the disgusting commercialization of everything from November 1st to January 15th, that I left in the comments @ WO’C:  It might not apply to everybody or everything, but slack-ass USED-TO-BE-A-WRITER loser that I am, I though it worth mentioning:

Any other good nightmare-inducing toys that you can remember, Bill? That pee-and-poop doll STILL gives me the shivers, if only from the yelling from the F.U. to STOP WASTING HER FUCKING PAPER TOWELS… I’d asked Santa for a Tri-Lab Kit and a Tonka Truck. I got a scatological BABY DOLL and more yelling. Wheeeeeeee. I fucking HATE this, the most crassly-commercial invented-entirely-out-of-whole-cloth-by-teh-Unholy-Roman-EMPIRE so-called fucking formerly-Druidic “holiday” and every dime that is spent upon it.

If you are fortunate enough to be able to give gifts to your friends, grocery store gift cards, electrical-company/co-op credits (yes, it is possible, I’ve done it for a friend before, believe it or not), even that most-evil of all Chinese merchandizing monoliths, Wally World — if your friends are in the same shape as everybody else this year, especially like Scott & Mary, as well as Sheri’s boundless generosity towards critters of literally EVERY description, PetSmart or Tractor Supply gift cards would be VERY thoughtful, if not outright PayPal cash (I’m working on it, y’all, I prmoise!!!), even gift cards for postage for goody boxes from the USPS, you can help get a friend a leg-up in SO many ways this year, and none of them come from a fucking SHOPPING MALL, thank fuck.

Okay, sermon over. Back to evil toys & dolls that create horrifying noises, excretions, and other inadvertently-amusing perversities.

November 19, 2011 5:43 AM

Love, yer Ranty Annti (lost the “Aunty” title 2  years ago, too, so now we’re down to just TWO ego-trip words!).


Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (1 Respond)

Damned shame when I get so mired in my own bullshit that the boy’s birfday goes by unmarked, as have Suzy & CCMcGoon’s.

I suck.

And not a day goes by that I don’t miss Tater. And Nannie. And Papa. Bad habit that — people who actually love me tend to die far too young, so y’all had better watch yer asses.

And no, I don’t usually refer back to old posts, especially from places where I was summarily evicted on the 1st deathiversary of Katrina, but I can’t think of anything to add to the original.

Many thanks…

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (2 Responds)

To Realist, Mags, Terrible, MzCGEye, RenB, CC McGoon, REDCANE, KWillow, Scott C., Mentis Fugit, and everybody else who worried over me, helped me to communicate whilst American Thievery & Terrorism was jacking my ISP & phone, and while I was being treated like SHIT by one of the E.R. “doctors” at Tulane and UTTERLY DISRESPECTED AND TREATED LIKE ***GARBAGE*** BY THE BOURGIE MOTHERFUCKERS AT TOURO INFIRMARY.

There is more bad news, very bad news, but I can’t do it tonight.
My most-sincere apologies to Suzy Cream Cheese & CC McGoon for not having posted this month’s birfdays yet, and anyone else this month who hasn’t told me to put them on the list yet.

More soon. Love to all of y’all. Unless you work the overnight shift @ Tulane’s E.R. or ANYWHERE at Touro. Outright hypocritical fucking goat-fuckers.

Update on Annti #2

Posted by Realist under Uncategorized (No Respond)

Annti is back home, so if you have her address, you can send her snailmail and/or get-well cards. No phone and only the occasional spurt of ‘net access. Her PayPal IS working (she says thanks, Terrible) so if you want to kick in anything and have it to spare, this might be an appropriate time.


Annti we’re here!

Posted by Terrible under Uncategorized (No Respond)

Annti we are here for you even when we suck like I have recently. I didn’t even see Realists posts when I posted my ‘get well’ to that marine attacked in Oakland. If I had I assure you there would have been a get well for you as well! And a much more heartfelt one at that. Realist, gabby, ect any of you hear anything let me know. Anything I can do or convince others to do I gotta be there for Annti cause she has stood for all who struggle as long as I’ve known her.

Get Well Soon

Posted by Terrible under Uncategorized (No Respond)

It seems exceedingly clear that Oaklands so called ‘police department’ is nothing more then a nest of anti-American insurgents launching violent deadly attacks on American taxpayers and veterans. These nests of right wing insurgents around the country posing as “law enforcement” are a much greater threat to Americans freedoms and way of life then any foreign organization could ever be. They need to be completely cleaned out and replaced with actual true law enforcement that lives by the motto “Serve and Protect” rather then attack and destroy! Best wishes to Marine veteran Scott Olsen for a speedy recovery from his grave injuries inflicted by the dangerous insurgents in our midst. Get well soon and back into the battle for American freedom!

Update on Annti

Posted by Realist under Uncategorized (3 Responds)

She was apparently hurt badly enough in her recent accident that she’s having to be hospitalized again. To add to her troubles, Bellsouth cut off her Internet access, which leaves her unable to access Paypal, the blog, or much of anything else. Unfortunately, I have no other contact info for her and the voicemail she left didn’t say which hospital she’d be going to. If I hear anything more, I’ll update here.