Saturday, July 10, 2010

Oh, My!!! Total "Mel"tdown!!

The rumored audiotape of Mel Gibson ranting at his Russkie celebrity bastard baby momma, Oksana Suckarichdickova, is no longer a rumor.  It's out and it's comedy gold!

"OK, you two.  I'm too fucking drunk to ever remember your goddam fucking names.  So.  Blondie?  I'm gonna call you Vegas bitch.  And you, with that finger that ain't going up my ass since I'm no fucking fag, goddammit... I'm gonna call you Vegas whore.  Got it?"

You can listen to the whole two minutes at Radaronline, but let's break it down piece by piece (of ass) shall we?

From previous Mel-bursts, we know that The Melster has unkind thoughts about "kikes", but seems to like "sugar tits".   We now have new information that Mel also uses the somewhat archaic term "wetback" in referring to our brown brothers and sisters from the south, and imagines that black rapists roam the countryside in something he calls "packs of niggers."  (You will notice that I assume a degree of maturity from my readers and when using a quote I refuse to say "The N-word" or "N****r".  If some dumb shit used a racial epithet they used a racial epithet.  Grow the fuck up, people.  Funny how most other sites I've checked will not use "nigger" but "wetback" is A-OK.)

Remember, we've already had a teaser on this where Mel said, "I am going to come and burn the fucking house down...but you will blow me first."  My feeling is that you should not threaten bodily harm on somebody right before you stick your cock in the orifice on her face that has teeth.  But maybe that's just me being overly cautious.

Anyway, the two minute tirade runs a pretty full gamut of spooky stalker, ex-lover menace and full bore crazy.

Mel opens this little drama by expressing his pissed off displeasure that Oksana breast feeds his daughter with "foreign bodies" in her chest.  He follows by saying that she lied to him about her "fake tits".

So.  "Sugar tits"= good.  "Fake tits"= bad.

Can a woman really lie to you about having bobble tits?  I know Mel was married to the same woman for a long time, but could he really have been that sheltered?  Considering Mel's well known fondness for the sweet escape of Demon Rum is it hard to imagine he might have cheated on his long time spouse?  That, and, oh yeah, he's a famous movie star.  My money is on Mel being a husband that fucked around.  So the famous Hollywood celebrity (Hollywood of all places!) can't spot a set of plastic hooters a mile away?  Much less when he's squeezing, sucking and probably sliding his lubricated wing-wang up between them on occasion?  OK, whatever.

Moving along.  Mel tells his little Russian doxy that the "fake tits" look "ridiculous" "too big" and "stupid".  (Too big and stupid but Mel still couldn't spot 'em.  Hey, Mel, I don't think Oksana's tits are the only stupid things in the room.  If you catch my drift.)  Then he insults every woman in Las Vegas by saying that Oksana looks like "some Vegas bitch" and "like a Vegas whore".  Vegas bitch and Vegas whore?  Like that's a bad thing?  Jeez, Mel.  First Obama, then you?  How much slander does the poor city of Las Vegas have to take?

Oksana Grigorieva.
Fake tits or not. They sure look sugary sweet to me.

I should mention that whenever Oksana interjects a comment into Mel's psycho screed, she sounds like a reasonable person who is trying to deal with a slow-witted DMV employee.  That, or she has a head full of Xanax.  She's Russian, so it's hard to put your finger on it, but I'd bet on the latter.

Then Mel goes where any criminal profiler will tell you these soon to be ex-girlfriend murdering guys always end up going.  Mel tells Oksana that she looks like "a fucking bitch in heat.  And if you get raped by a pack of niggers it'll be your fault, all right?  Because you provoked it."  The word "provocative" gets thrown around a few times especially when she "show[s] off, in tight outfits and tight pants so you can see your pussy from behind".  (Like Ice-T's wife, Coco!  But the difference is that Ice-T likes Coco walking around that way.)

Mel then finishes up by telling his daughter's mother in a voice that drips with icy hatred that he doesn't trust her, he doesn't love her and he doesn't want her.

What makes me think that somewhere there is a tape of O.J. saying the same things to Nicole.

Brit Gal diddles herself to death. Shocker! Alcohol appears not to be a factor.

The French have a lovely description for orgasm.  Le petit mort.  The little death.

Well, for Nicola Paginton, 30, of Circenster, Gloucsester, her little death became the final journey into the bright white light.  Miss Paginton was found lifeless and pantsless in her bed last October, vibrator at her side and porn on her laptop.  Oh, behave!

Nicola the Naughty Nanny.
If there'd been a man in her bed instead of a 
vibrator and a laptop could she have been saved? 

I guess Britain being Britain it took 9 months to figure out what happened to the saucy Nicola, but it was eventually determined that it must have been a heart attack brought on by arousal.  Hmmm...I'm getting a little tight in the chest and short of breath myself as I think about Naughty Nicola and her last big O.

Just a couple of thoughts.  Nicola worked as a nanny.  Good thing she wasn't buzzing herself to ecstasy while at work as the kiddies were napping.  WHAT ABOUT THE CHILDREN!!!???  Not exactly an easy death scene to be able to explain, is it Mary Poppins?

I firmly believe that 95% of the world's population in their heart of hearts have the notion that some how, some way, Death will make an exception in their case.  The other 5% work in emergency rooms, as EMT's, hospice nurses or in the funeral trade.  I always think about what if I dropped dead right this minute?  Would my not too mechanically inclined Mrs. Funeral Guy be able to navigate the combination to the safe where our trust is?  How much porn do I have hidden around the house?   Did I leave a tab open on my computer displaying the Pussy XXL Big Labia website.  Where the hell is my cock ring?  Think about it, folks.  If you die suddenly somebody else is going to go through all your shit.  And I do mean all the little dark cobwebbed secret corners of your life.

I used to have a forensics textbook.  It was titled Medico-Legal Aspects of Death.  It had photos of every mode of death that you could possibly think of.  Then it went into some scenarios that you could never imagine in your weirdest nightmares.  Truly gnarly stuff.  I remember one that always stuck with me.  It was a death scene.  By the suits on the cops in the photo it looked like it was some time in the 40's.  It was an old guy on a bed in what looked to be an attic room.  He had rigged up a contraption that tied to his ankles that facilitated his proclivity for fucking himself in the ass with a dildo that was just slightly smaller than the trunk of an oak tree.  Whilst pleasuring himself thus, he had a heart attack and died.  The photo shows the man, legs akimbo, mouth and eyes open, with his huge homemade dildo machine buried in his bunghole.

I always imagined that some time before that picture was taken a mom was saying, "Kids.  Run upstairs and wake Grandpa up from his nap.  Tell him supper's almost ready."

Sunday, July 4, 2010

The 4th of July...Hamburgers, apple pie and bloody stumps where limbs used to be. A true American holiday.

The whole point of the Darwin Awards is you have to take yourself out of the gene pool by killing yourself doing something stupid.  Eric Smith, 36, may still be alive and able to reproduce, but hopefully he jacks off righty since he blew his left arm off while fucking around with fireworks.  Mr. Smith was so anxious to lose his limb that he started his bang-up 4th of July celebration on the 3rd.  The accident took place at 5:45 PM on Saturday.  Which by my watch is 45 minutes into the official start of cocktail hour.

Eric the Brainless was illegally using a commercial fireworks tube when the accident occurred.  I'm sure somewhere in the instructions it states that you shouldn't stand your dumb ass in front of the tube when you ignite the boom booms.  I'm calling it fireworks, although the story refers to the ordnance as mortars.

Professional fireworks mortars.  
Not for neighborhood barbeque use. 

Mortars!!??  Are Eric's neighbors in Islip, New York, members of Al-qaeda?  Maybe Eric should experiment with hand grenades next year.  He can pull the pin with his teeth like G.I. Joe, since he'll be down one set of digits.

China's diabolical commie plot to turn us into a fingerless nation.

As a lad I liked fireworks and explosions as much as the next kid.  Me and my male cousins would chase each other around on the 4th and toss ladyfingers at each other while our parents watched and laughed.  The girls would hide and shriek in horror.  (I swear to God, nothing was against the law back in those days.)  I grew out of this perilous tomfoolery by my 20's unlike Mr. Smith.  Of course, I had the incentive of not ending up as a one-armed drummer like that dude in Def Leppard.

I like how the CNN story helpfully supplies basic fireworks safety rules for the benefit of the four low IQ retards that still watch their network.

Happy Independence Day!

Two hundred and thiry four years ago today we declared our independence from British rule and damn well got it after a bloody revolution.  If we could have only waited a couple of hundred years we'd have been able to just sneak away while those drunken Brits were nursing a hangover.

What makes the United States of America so dang all fired great and special?  Well, in addition to a gazillion other things, we invented the personal computer and the internet.  Which allowed me to find this photo of girls in flag bikinis in .019 seconds flat.  Hot dog!  And hamburgers, potato salad and creamy frozen custard in sugar cones, too.

Thank you, ladies.  Very patriotic.
Believe me, our flags are at full staff and saluting you back. 

Oh, and let's not forget freedom while we're at it.  The good 'ol US of A has survived wars, depressions, natural disasters, and American Idol contestants.  We can surely overcome the disaster that is the Obama administration and the greaseballs from The Jersey Shore.

Founding Father Fun Death Facts:
These U.S. Presidents all died on the Fourth of July.
2nd U.S. President John Adams (1826)
3rd U.S. President Thomas Jefferson (1826) The same day as Adams...Spooky...
5th U.S. President James Monroe (1831)

Enjoy the day and God Bless America.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Everybody sing...Happy Anniversary, Happy Anniversary, Happy Anniversary...Haaaaaaaaappy A-N-N-I-VERSARY.

Awwwww...Thanks, Lexxie.
You baked us all a cake. 

The Funeral Guy is one year old today.

I was driving home from work on July 1, 2009,  and contemplating the Michael Jackson Death Circus and thought to myself, "I've got to blow off some steam about all this shit."  First post here.

So I started this blog.  (I never realized you could set one of these up for free!)  I figured, opinions are like assholes.  Everybody's got one.  And I've always been an asshole with a lot of opinions.

I originally thought that I would be doing mainly political stuff.  I hate taxes, liberal bullshit, political correctness, government employees and all the rest.  Well, we still have some of that here, but as you know it has evolved into an extension of my id.  A scary (and hopefully humorously twisted) place it is, too.  Where else can you find tits, ass, celebrities, death, rock n' roll, movies and politics all in one fun, happy little corner of the interweb?

Imagine poor Mrs. Funeral Guy.  She has to live with me for reals.  24/7.  I can feel you shudder from here.

I hope you keep coming back.  Send the TFG link to your friends.  Leave comments or send me email.

Thanks for reading.  I appreciate it.  No Joke.