Rapper for ISIS Meets His 72 Biotches!

It has been reported that a German rapper, Denis Cuspert, aka Deso Dogg, who had been working as a spokesman for ISIS, was killed in an air strike a few weeks ago. I found this hard to comprehend, a German rapper? But other idiots find ISIS rather appealing,  and who wouldn’t give up a budding recording career, along with the fame, respect, and chicks that come with it, for a chance to be part of a band of murdering thugs who don’t sing, dance, or engage in critical thinking, and who only get laid when they force captives into marriage, or do each other? I tried here to get into the asshat’s mind, in the process of which I found myself needing a mental laxative Anyway, Denis, this rap is for you, may you rot in Hell…..

I know what you’re thinking, know-it-all winking,
I must be tall-stein drinkin’ the koolaid of the kinks in
Middle-East land, ISIS makes the Taliban in Afghanistan
look like the Good Humor Man, Lebanon like Disneyland

But I wasn’t crazy, just bored and lazy,
my moral compass was maybe hazy
put right and wrong on the same plate
no room for love, I’ve got a passionate hate
can you relate? A righteous fury, It’s way too late
To find common ground, or sit around.
and carve more lines into the ground
that separate and isolate,
shoot us when we congregate,
wherever, whenever, no matter how late
to plot the fall of the Jewish State,
we condemn Amerika to the very same fate
can you relate?
can you relate?

So auf weidersen to old Deutschland,
I’m rappin’ now for my Imam
beheading infidels in the Holy Land
Call me a terrorist, a brat, worse
I cherish your every invective and curse
I reject the West, I can do no less
Yet I still wonder why I’m not blessed,
why by old Germans I’m not liked
I’m doing the work of the old 3rd Reich.


If I hadn’t taken a seat between Cristine and Chance, I never would have heard this story. If I smoked, I might have been a witness. If I was a pill-head, someone else might be writing this account…

We met on the bus in the middle of Texas
two gals who’d seen way too much
we clicked like heels just east of Austin
The driver said no smoking or drugs

The windows measured out the miles
and the wheels rolled out our stories
We became fast friends across that aisle
before that old dog ever cleared Houston

I was going home to my babies
she was getting back with her man
and we took it as a helluva good omen
that her seatmate’s name was Chance

Chance was the name of my youngest
and my new friend Jessica said to me,
“Second chances on buses from Texas,
Girl, our meeting was a destiny meant to be!”

Maybe I was hungry for company
but our stories were so much alike
Chance said it sounds like fate to me
She slept on his shoulder from Slidell to Biloxi

In Mobile, Alabama for a five-hour layover
on Chance’s phone she called Palm Beach.
The words ‘I love you, Honey, we’ll make this work”,
may have been the last ‘Honey’ ever heard her speak.

We were smoking out front and this one guy
with dirty clothes and a leer caught my eye,
Talking to a couple in a wintry low voice
pointing the man to a gray car with dark windows

No angel, I know a drug deal when I see it
and suggested we go back in for a bite
Chance held the door for the purchaser’s girl
The gray car faded away in the night

The dirty guy watched us drink coffee
Jessica wondered what he was peddling
She used pills for fun and bad leg pains
Chance leaned back, soon he was sleeping

When I came back from ordering breakfast
Jessica reached down for her purse
The dealer watched her wallet open
she counted out five twenties, got out of her seat

“He’s got the kind of pills I need, Christine
just watch my stuff  and don’t worry
I’ll be okay, he’s got it in his pocket
Or could you come out here with me?

I said no, something was striking me odd
This guy has been watching us far too long
And now he’s saying we gotta go to his car
I saw the other girl’s guy was still gone

Breakfast was ready, I didn’t want it
Chance and I followed too late
He had a gun in her side, a hand on her neck
The car sped off with Jessica in the back.

Security acted indifferent, told Us to call the cops
Before I dialed nine-eleven, the first guy stumbled in
he’d jumped out of the car, run back to the station
Happily alive, but their money’d been taken

“They were going to kill me, I know it
Something was said about a place by the Bay
Dark guys with black hearts and dead eyes,
Where’s your friend, by the way?”

Chance and I gave our statements,
we received little hope in return
the cops acted burnt-out, jaded,
almost content to let the bad guys win

Just two of us now, we got on the next bus
Some guy with a laptop asked questions
He was a blogger who wanted a story
But we might never know how it ends

Would they find her in six feet of water?
Or naked and bruised, but breathing?
If she was dead, who’d tell her lover?
Was she thinking about her children?

I told him I wished I’d gotten a plate number
I wished I’d gotten the make of the car
I wish the cops had cared more, I said
And that fortune had not been so unfair.

I wish Chance had brought better luck,
that’d I held Jessica back, that she’d had no pain
I wish she hadn’t told me her life story
I wish she hadn’t told me her name.


My good friends, Les and Pam, are making their union official. In lieu of a tacky present, I wrote a tacky poem…

Two paths come together,
Two journeys become one,
In good times and troubled,
the storms they can weather
better doubled than undone
Two minds remain so
enjoying the familiar,
savoring the strange
dual mutual fascination
embracing new change
Two hearts, gentle bass beats ,
two rhythms become one
defining melody so sweet
living the words they write
Two lives in harmony,one beautiful song


“….Yes, we have a real challenge facing us this week on Flip This House! It’s a real fixer-upper in the government district of Washington , D.C. Once respected and admired, now long neglected and vandalized, it has become rat-infested. Earlier attempts to repair The House of Representatives were stymied..’CLICK!’

“….So, ask your doctor if Bull-Shit is right for you! {Caution: The use of Bull-Shit has been linked to a rise in dishonest discourse. Decisions should not be made while using BullShit. Cases of foot-in-mouth syndrome have been observed in conjunction with heavy dosages of BullShit. Tell your medical provider if you suffer from gullibility. Should you experience a lack of perspective after ingesting Bull…” CLICK!’

“…and today on “The World’s Worst Jobs, we are speaking with Oman Waimi, Head of Public Relations for ISIL. In this hard-hitting, no holds barred interview, Minister Whimie elaborates on the goals of the Islamic State, their guiding philosophy, while showing us his collection of commemorative plates, we discuss the merits and possible downsides of having myself and the rest of the crew beheaded…..” ‘CLICK

“…Announce an exciting change in the game’s format. From now on, there will be no longer be a panel of judges on SO WHO WANTS TO BE SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE!!, and rules will be made up as we go along…” ‘CLICK!’
“…no where in the Constitution is co-valent bonding mentioned! If I become President, my first act will be to end this odious practice!” So said presidential candidate Ben Carson…” ‘CLICK!’

“…MSNBC has decided to devote the 40% of its programming not already devoted to prison shows and airing clips from Fox News while our hosts act shocked and aghast, to nutrition supplement ads…..” ‘CLICK!’

“…The suspect was caught after several selfies of the tax fraud were found on Social Media….” ‘CLICK!’

“…The Darrin-change deniers have newly-edited footage that appears to show that it was a combination of a new lighting manager and the switch from Black-and-White to Color that made Darrin look different. As for the actor’s name being different in subsequent seasons of Bewitched, denier spokesman Carl Cantsee, opined, “maybe he was adopted, and decided to use his real name, did you ever think of that?..” ‘CLICK!’

“…Speaking at a press conference, GOP Congressman Trey Gowdy blamed the presence of the asteroid threatening the Earth on Hillary Clinton’s private server, while a Democratic spokesman defended the Administration’s tepid response to the crisis. “We are all wringing our hands, we’re worried, and we agree that something should be done….” ‘CLICK!’



Dear The Donald,

I am working two jobs, in order to support two kids and a husband who has trouble keeping a job because of a bad back, a weak stomach, a poor attitude towards authority, and a drinking problem.
I don’t mind the work, nor the hours, and it is my pleasure to cook for and feed my family, do their laundry, shop, and clean up after each one of my charges. Sometimes, I wish that one of the kids would mow the yard, or that hubby would volunteer to take out the garbage when the bag isn’t too heavy, but I like going to bed with a clean conscience, if maybe not so clean a husband.
But I have recently learned that he is spending large amounts of money on internet porno sites, putting us further in debt so he can indulge in what I consider disgusting and degrading filth, and I am no prude.
Please, give me some advice, Mr. Trump. We cannot afford counseling, and he won’t quit watching the crap on his own. I am at the point of considering a divorce, if only I can find a sympathetic judge who will award him with custody of the ungrateful brats.

at wit’s end

Attn: Wit’s end
Re: bad attitude

It’s YOU who has the bad attitude, Ms. Whiny-lady, spewing self-pity and …whatever, from every orifice. Sex is beatiful, but only with beautiful people! I bet you haven’t seen the inside of a gym lately, either, if you know what I mean. But maybe you don’t, so here it is, you are probably fat, bitchy during your period, and have fits, maybe sometimes you are a good wife, too. But being a good wife sometimes isn’t enough, you have to be a hottie; is that so hard? Not for my wife it isn’t, God Bless her, but she is a total woman who takes the time to put on make-up, get her hair done, work out with her personal trainer, and get plastic surgery, unlike some I am writing to at the moment.

The Donald

Dear Mr Trump,

I know you prefer the other salutation,. but The Donald sounds like something a 2-year old would say. I’m a man, you’re a man, I’d rather converse on that basis.
Anyway, I wanted to ask about your evolved positions on several topics, especially those that would have eventually eroded your support with the GOP base. It seems pretty convenient for you to suddenly realize that Hilary wasn’t a good Secretary of State, abortion is bad, and so is a national health Insurance plan. Also, are you still clinging to the myth that Obama was not born in the US?

Skeptical but interested

Dear skeptic

You’re the terrible-2 year old, sonny, with your childish questions, questions I will not answer. Instead I will answer this question, how many multi-million dollar deals, deals I do every day while I nap, have you done? None! So why am I even talking to you? I bet you’re not even a man, but some woman with an agenda and hormone problems.
Becoming the President is just another deal to me, OK? And you negotiate a deal, give-and-take, I negotiated, and I’m going to win, because I can Deal! I am a deal artisan, I wrote the book!

The Donald

Dear the Donald,

In spite of your incorrect statements, I think you are pretty smart and would make a fine president.
Now, here is my problem.
My wife is obsessed with you, she has bought seven copies of The Art of the Deal at book signing appearances of yours, and has spent a fortune to get pictures of her standing next to you; they line the walls of her Donald-room, formerly our den. She has had her hair done like yours, although no one could match it exactly. She calls out your name when we are making love. Could you say or do something that would bring her down to Earth, back to reality, back to me?

Trumped by Trump
My dear T’ed by T

I don’t make incorrect statements. And, as for your ‘problem’, sorry, I cannot remember your wife from countless others; I sign a lot of books, and have my picture taken with millions of women. Yes, I said millions, and that’s a fact! BTW,you did not include a pic of Wifey, who sounds like she would make a good personal intern, if she can keep her emotions under control, all month long, if you know what I mean.

The Donald (the The is Always capita;ized, cretin, I hold the rights.!)

{Ask The Donald appears weekly in thousand of newspapers and other media outlets, millions have been helped with my advice. It is the best advice column ever, because I am a dealer, and I know people; and I am smarter than you, that’s a fact}


Jimmy Buffett Fesses Up!!

I got rich writing about my bad habits
indulged in my wild Caribbean days
Taking body shots off of well-endowed strippers
And snorting cocaine off a supermodel’s legs

But there was a good reason for my escape into dreams,
by using rum, happy pills, and pot
Because if you choose a life of sobriety
You’ll see that Paradise, this place is not!

What jerk calls a place Paradise,
where capital crime is always on the rise?
where biting insects grow to an incredible size?
It’s not my idea of Paradise

I made it all sound so romantic,
Singing’ ’bout smugglers, pretty ladies, and pirates back then
But they’re crooks and criminals, schemers and con men.
Why do you think I wised up, and moved to Aspen!

Why visit more than one island?
every one is just more of the same
beggars, crazy cabbies, and cheap crap made in Japan,
And a too-hot climate that is unfit for man!

It never was a paradise
Columbus didn’t treat the locals very nice
now they like to steal from visiting gals and guys
Go visit the Greek isles, is my advice

I would rather stay in a local motel,
swim in the pool, avoid the airlines’ fee-Hell
order up a pizza, get a six-pack of beer
Screw the Antilles, I’m happier here!


{Many have raised questions about our use of drones to take out enemies of America, but none have been so vocal as the targets themselves, at least for a time…}


Oh what a bitch!
it just isn’t fair
like rabbits plucked by a hawk from the ground
death comes by air!
They sent in the drones

Fight like a man!
you’ve nothing to lose
if you are nowhere that you can be found
How can we behead you
stop sending the drones
We can’t fight the drones

Just when we thought that the country was ours
and so was the money made from the opium flowers
No one would stop us, no one would dare
we fired our guns
up in the air

I’ve got shards up my arse,
Thanks to a drone, I can’t hear
But I can tell by the fear in Abu’s eyes
Again, a drone’s here
It took out Amir
Crap! That makes me leader!*

(Judy, Judy Collins, Judy, please forgive me the liberties I have taken with your work)


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