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Posts Tagged with Page 3

BEAST Page 3 Emo Conservative

September 5th, 2011 by


Name: Derek Hunter

Turn-ons: Bein’ Emo, my hair and stuff, Twitter, Tucker Carlson, Twilight, True Blood, The Cure, The Crow, money, Andrew Breitbart, straw men, like, Townhall or whatever. Baseless ad homs. I dunno. You know. Hanging out at the mall, Hot Topic. Stuff. Being dark. Whatever. I don’t care. Life is darkness. (more…)


BEAST Page 3 Dead red-winged blackbird

January 5th, 2011 by


Name: Anfernee

Turn-ons: Seeds, dragonflies, sexual dimorphism, “Dexter”–anything with John Lithgow really…besides “3rd Rock From the Sun,” Chex Mix, shitting on statues, long and meaningful conversations about the interconnected nature of biological life on earth, parking lot french fries, Monty Python and sizzurp–don’t judge me.

Turn-offs: Lightning, hail, power lines, fireworks, Dick Cheney, inappropriate Hitchcock references, ABC’s “Flash Forward” and the terms “aflockalypse,” “flockocide” and “flockocaust.” And Seagalls. (more…)

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The BEAST Page 3 Anchor Baby

August 18th, 2010 by

anchor baby

Name: Pancho Villalqaeda (aka The Brown Menace)

Turn-ons: Taking your job, not giving back to society, the 14th Amendment, giving Lou Dobbs leprosy, committing hit-and-runs in my El Camino, the Home Depot parking lot, ruining the sanctity of your marriage, confusing social issues and flan.

Turn-offs: Jan Brewer, Lindsey Graham, object permanence, white people in general, the rule of law, morality, decency, diaper rash, the American dream, a solid work ethic and white people. And their families. And their values. And anything they hold dear.

How I got to be The BEAST Page 3 Anchor Baby: In a cunning attempt to game the system, my mother, she cross the border and drop me in the desert. I stay there for three weeks, drinking cactus milk. Then I grow mustache and steal job writing for la bestia.

Future Plans: To join al Qaeda’s first “ciesta cell.”

How I’d Like to be Remembered: As the infant who destroys America.

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The Beast Page 3 Terrorist Undies

December 31st, 2009 by

undiesName: Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab’s drawers

Turn-ons: Allah, Muhammad (PBUH), the Qur’an, Ṣalāt, violent Jihad, released Gitmo detainees, Pentaerythritol tetranitrate, elastic, cotton, Pete Hoekstra, supporting testicles & infertility.

Turn-offs: “The Hills,” airport body scanners, skid marks, Detroit, interagency cooperation, Santa Claus, joy, peace, flying, ethics, vigilance & chaffing.

How I got to be The BEAST Page 3 Terrorist Undies: I was like any other pair of tighty-whities — made in China, fell off a truck in Yemen and became radicalized. I met Umar in the marketplace, and it turned out we both knew al-Qaeda talent scout Anwar al-Awlaki, so it was only natural that we’d be a terrorist team. And we both hate our dads, but I digress. A lot of people don’t know this, but I was the one who came up with using Pentaerythritol tetranitrate (PETN) to blow up the plane. I have a bad ticker, you see, and my medication Lentonitrat is pure PETN. So, we just crushed up a bottle or two, hopped a plane to Amsterdam and then off to Detroit. And you know the rest. They ripped me to shreds, basically. Infidels!

Future Plans: Although PETN is easy to sneak onto a plane, it’s pretty useless as an explosive on it’s own — it’s usually used as a catalyst to explode more volatile materials, like, C4. And without a blasting cap all it really does is start on fire. LAME! So, I’m going to work out how to smuggle a blasting cap past security — possibly in the tip of a cane! Oh, that’s good! (Don’t tell the Feds.)

How I’d Like to be Remembered: As not only an instrument of Jihad, which I most certainly am, but also as a fashion statement. I mean, no one wears briefs anymore, and I’d like to see that change.

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September 23rd, 2009 by

DPName: Death Panel

Turn-ons: Death, dying, refusing life-extending treatment based on productivity levels, Nazi Germany, Pol Pot

Turn-offs: Extraordinary measures, The Schiavos, retards and old folks.

How we got to be The BEAST PAGE 3 DEATH PANEL: Well, they’re calling us “end of life counseling,” but Death Panel just sounds so cool! And besides, old people are just so annoying, don’t you think? They smell funny. They clog up our highways and shopping centers. They’re afraid of Barack Obama. They make us talk on the phone when we’d rather be playing video games. They complain about everything. Honestly, aren’t you tired of them? I know I am. When the elderly are euthanized, America is youth-enized!

Future plans: Well, once the bill gets passed, I’ll be knocking off the elderly and feeble-minded like tin cans in a shooting gallery. Request denied motherfuckers!

How we’d like to be remembered: As the one thing Sarah Palin got right. Well, you know, sort of. Okay, there’s no such thing as a Death Panel. Still, it sounds pretty cool though, right?

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The BEAST Page 3 “Suicide”

August 5th, 2009 by

Name: Ibn al-Shaykh al-Libi

Turn-ons: Allah, the sweet release of death, prop comedy.

Turn-offs: Press blackouts, infidels, organ failure.

How I got to be The BEAST Page 5 “Suicide”: Well, I ran a Jihadi training camp in Afghanistan, but I’m best known as the source for the bogus “Saddam trained Al Qaeda in chemical weapons” story that made its way into Colin Powell’s infamous UN speech. But hey, it wasn’t my fault! I was renditioned to Egypt by the CIA, so they could get medieval on my ass. I told those assholes that there wasn’t any link to Saddam, but then they put me in a coffin for 17 hours. When they finally pulled me out, they beat me mercilessly. Well, after that, I was all “Saddam this” and “Osama that” and “chemical weapons whatever,” as you can imagine. Anyway, later on the CIA sent me to Libya, where I was sentenced to life in prison. Then, just a few weeks ago, it came out that Cheney micromanaged my torture, and specifically requested that Saddam-Iraq lie. That is to say, he had me tortured with the specific intent of producing false evidence. So they had me killed, of course. Hell, the report of my “suicide” didn’t even specify when or how I died.

Future Plans: These 72 virgins are total uggos, so I’ve been spending a lot of time drinking from the rivers of wine around here. No, seriously, I’m in hell, of course. But the funny thing is, I’m so used to being tortured, they just gave up on me. Now I just hang out in my room and watch reruns of “Yes, Dear.” It’s the only show we get down here.

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