Kaos's blog: "HackFest Central Control"

Yo, salty piles of whale extrement, and welcome to my latest edition of HackFest, FuBar's best in the slow corruption of the Leviathan that is the Interweb. My name's Captain Saucypants, also known as Law. Today I feel in a bit of a generous mood, so aside from kicking small children into busy crosswalks, I grant you people the honor of experiencing my newest rant on racism. Now, granted, I am a person who firmly believes that all humanity bears an overwhelming trait of ignorace and stupidity. Hell, you're talking to a person that is a avid and frequent practictioner of Darwin's theory of evolution when he stabs celebrities in the ribcage or drops trucks on public parks. However, the oldest and by far most iditoic social vomit that I have ever come across the misfortune of hearing about is racism. To those of you that have either experienced brain damage from excessive paint chip swallowing or have lived in your great-grandparent's basement for over three millenia, racism is the belief that one race bears superiority of all races, and thus that race has more rights and priveleges than anyone else. Furthermore, it suggests that this "superior" race bears divine justification in mistreating and otherwise abusing other races. To this I say bullshit. Pure, unadulterated, liquid secretion from the depths of my underbowel bullshit. First off, allow me to say that it is IMPOSSIBLE for any human race to be superior to any other. We are, in essence, all of the same genetic make-up. Granted, we do have small alterations to certain aspects of our physical bodies, we all bleed the same color and require the same basic needs of life: Food, water, shelter, etc. It is a heinous and otherwise insane claim to dictate that one race is better than the other due to such a simple thing as skin pigment. Furthermore, and this part especially goes out to any hardcore racists that are actually reading this, anyone who believes and follows this mantra, in any way, shape, or form, is someone who should be firmly cleansed from the mortal coil with a rusty spoon, some Ajax, and a wind chime. How could you honestly hold dear the idea that just because you're white, black, or any other crazed race, you have rights above and beyond the grand scale of the Great Design? For this, you deserve to be completely contortioned into the shape of a pretzel by ALL members of ALL races. In fact, I propose this, you racist piles of anthrax-ridden donkey crap: Go and spew forth some of that rhetoric in the deepest ghettos of this fine country of ours. I guarantee within one minute of your speech, someone's going to brain you, proceed to feed you your own tongue, and make a tap-dance on your vital organs until the bone protecting them shatters. The message is clear, people: Race is NOT an issue anymore. It is the content of one's character and fiber that should matter. Those that state that race is a factor base their conclusions on a set group in a set area, not on the race in kind. Despite that, even if the statistics show one race to be inferior, there are ALWAYS exceptions to the rule. Don't let one bad apple or group of bad apples spoil the bunch. Let me just drop some napalm on the little turds and watch them put themselves out on each other. It's priceless. All right, homies, I'm done here. Read the next installment of HackFest or be banished to the Plane of Unconsentional Sex for Fleshies. Ta.

Howdy, condensates of sentienance and cold salami, and welcome once again to Hackfest, home of all things immoral. I would make you bow, but I see you're all trying to stab your own eyes out in hopes that the rant in this edition won't corrupt your very core into a blur of babbling voices. Tonight, I wanted to show most of you an unwarranted display of mercy and pleasure. Seeing as how there are tons and tons of new movies being released, I thought that I would unburden your brain by letting you know my interpretation of how some of these movies end.

I Am Legend: Basically, this dude called Legend finds out that all of humanity was eaten by Roseanne Barr. There's this huge final battle in which he defeats the mutated version of Roseanne, also known at this point of the movie as "Rose-zilla" by stuffing an oversized chicken bone down her throat. Then there's a huge dance number where Will Smith thinks he can salvage his music career by showing his "gangsta" side.

Alien vs. Predator: Requiem: It turns out that the hybrid predator/alien was Dick Cheney, and that the whole thing was planned by the outer-space version of Condoleeza Rice to take over the United States and turn it into a huge intergalactic sweat shop. The hybrid, unfortunately, was shot in the face repeatedly by angry townspeople led by the local whore, also known as Paris Hilton.

Enchanted: Two words: Gangbanging bestiality.

Sweeney Todd: Case in point, the "Demon Barber" was none other than a frustrated John Malkovich struggling with his career. He goes off to behead Ted Turner, who for some odd reason buys his crap and criticizes it as "worse than baby drool." The movie climaxes around a huge John Woo-like gun battle between Malkovich and the beheaded Ted Turner, who turned out to be an android. It ends with Malkovich with a bullet in the eye...and not in a good way.

Beowulf: Basically, the whole movie was a documentary based on the true story of Christopher Walken in his early days, and the Grendal was really the embodiment of Satan, portrayed by Angelina Jolie strictly for the fact that the film industry liked the fact that Lucifer was hot. It ends with a hot sex scene between the two, followed by Walken sucking all the blood from Satan and becoming lord of the Underworld.

Well, that's it for Hackfest. Read the next blog or I'll figure out a way to make your clothing explode. Ta.

Greetings, obscure body secretions, and welcome to HackFest, FuBar's best in mental destruction. The name's Law, and if you ask me a second time, I'll probably punch you in the capillaries like a minja. Many of you devoted fans, and I doubt I have that many, have probably noticed that I haven't posted in a while. This is due to two things. One, I do actually happen to have a little something called a LIFE, and so I actually have obligations. Second is much more obvious: I don't have that many devoted fans. No problem for me, because that's a good reason to not be as frequent. Well, I'm here now, so just be satisfied and read, damnit. I'm here for your entertainment. Well...that and your stereo. Tonight's topic will be one of my favorite people in the entire world, and by that I mean for target practice. That person is Rush Limbaugh. Now, granted, I am a firm believer in the freedom of speech we so diligently uphold in this fine country of ours. I'm elated that one such as Rush uses it frequently. However, I am also a firm believer that those that open their freakin' mouths should have something actually meaningful to say. In Mr. Limbaugh's case, all he has really done is show me how much I would love to kill some people. Originally, I had the minimum respect for Rush. I mean, I wasn't above feeding him to a rabid wolverine, but only if he did something to really annoy me, like eat my cookies or sleep with my wife. Lately, however, he has made my hit list simply for the fact that the crap he has said has been a complete anti-thesis. Allow me to go a little further. You see, Rush wants Obama's policies to fail. At first, he states that he wanted OBAMA to fail. Now, it says something to one's character if he can insult the leader of the free world and still be able to walk. Furthermore, he is what you call a radical conservative Republican. These people honestly believe that the rich should stay rich, and the poor should kick rocks. This is incorrect. To Rush, I say this: I hope one day, while consuming your favorite diet of unborn children and baby seal steaks, that you choke, causing you to fall out of a 30-story building and land on a large Iraqi suicide bomber just before he explodes, but not before going through the blades of an oncoming and rising helicopter. It is a privelege for most human beings to think before saying something, and you, sir, obviously do not use the logic center of your brain to do so. I suggest doing so, or if you feel this task is too great, I offer my services as an assistant in your honorable suicide. It's either that, Rush, or I send an enraged Rosie O'Donnell, completely hyped up on PCP and whiskey, into your posh little penthouse with the firmly planted idea that your cranial regions hold the secret for the greatest lesbian sex in her life. Seriously, start thinking about the freakin' working class, you elitist pig-humper! You make more money than most of us, and at least we have a president trying to fix the mess your Republican D-Student made! Shut the hell up or have your tongue removed, you fat neo-Nazi ingrate! Okay, I'm finished and completely armored from head to toe in Kevlar. I'm ready for the conservative hate-mail/assassination attempts. I just hope they send Angelina Jolie clones this time. I need boobs-in-face time before I die. Should I survive the onslaught, be sure to read the next installment or be eternally sodomized by clones of Boy George. Ta.

Hail, figments of my overactive imagination, and welcome to another rousing edition of HackFest. Yeah, just when you thought I was going to give this up, I just happen to pop right back up again, like a New York cockroach. Since I'm the kind of guy who loves to kick people when they're down and spray them with kerosene, I'm going to direct this little tidbit to our would've-been prez, John McCain. So, McCain, it seems you got beat by a black guy. Don't worry. In Harlem, that happens a lot. Seriously, you copped out just when you found out you were losing. It doesn't take a genius to figure out you were going to lose. Looks like smearing the opponent's rep in the dirt doesn't really work for you nowadays. I mean, honestly, a trained bear on a unicycle couldn't have done a better job making you look like Lucifer himself. And what was with your choice of running mate, old man? A closet freak who had so loose of morals and judgement that she makes Madonna look sane? What you honestly need to do, McCain, is look for a nice rest home. Someplace that serves tapioca pudding and plays '20's jazz all day long. That way, when you attempt to look back at your life, they drugs they gave you for Parkinson's will kick in, and you'll be higher then Keith Richards after he smoked Abraham Lincoln's ashes. I just want to see you happy...and the whole Republican party attacked by revived dinosaurs blitzed on whiskey and PCP. Lots of love and moistness, Law

Happy f-ing evening, wooden sex puppets, and welcome to HackFest, where reading will send you straight to Hell. Name's Law, and today, fart toads, we'll be talking about relationships. Why, you ask? Because you touch your dog in its no-places at night, I answer. It seems nowadays, more than anything, people are looking for that special someone. However, what pisses me off is that all these people always settle for the WRONG PERSON. Especially guys that they meet online. They feel that it's better to meet Mr. Crack Addict than Mr. Nice Guy. To add further insult to injury, when a nice guy does show up in their lives, they immediately reject him with the same statement: "You're too nice." Horsepucky, I say. Pure, raw, ozone-destroying horsepuckey. To the men currently scoping and scraping the Internet for the one chick that's going to bang you with no restrictions, LAY OFF THE THORAZINE!! Better yet, take a whole bottle all at once and throw up your vital organs down an angry biker's throat. Women, contrary to popular belief, are NOT all hoe-bags, and wouldn't touch your member if you paid them all the gold and diamonds that exist. Even the most amoral women have their standards. Furthermore, stop with the bad pick-up lines. It's bad enough that women have been offered sex since they had boobs, but to further insult their intelligence by offering them cheesy compliments and undertoned conversation? You people really just need to be sexually assaulted by steroid-injected female gorillas in heat. To the women out there strutting around on the Interest looking for the next John Doe to poke them in the nether-regions, look at my last post. Women like you give good women a bad name. You say you want attention with your picture, but when a man meets you it's a different story all together. You suddenly develop morals and standards so impossibly high or so insanely stupid that you scare away any men that even were slightly honest with their feelings for you. If you have morals, don't have your tits out on the Internet. If you don't have morals, post on AdultSpace or something. Real people, people that aren't interested in flesh-peddlers, are waiting to meet real people. They sure as sh*t don't want to be caught dead with Slutty McWhorecunt. That's all I needed to say. Read the next post or be snuggled to death by vampiric baby llamas. Ta.

Salutations, meat droids, and welcome to a much overdue edition of HackFest, FuBar's exclusive in all things ranty and mint-flavored. If you don't know who it is exactly that's posting these things, my name's Law, better known to lesser races as Law the Deathbringer (that'll show those damned mole people who's boss). Today's rant will be on women. Yes, I said it: WOMEN. It's long overdue, and people need to hear these things. I've noticed that, especially in my po-dunk town of Jacksonville, FL, that there are a lot of women online, and a majority of them seemed to want that special someone. They all feel obligated, then, to strut their stuff on a digital camera and push their flesh to us. However, at that very same time, they seem to want to let us know that they're "not that type of girl," and choose to validate this by stating so repeatedly. To this, I say one thing: BULLSHIT. Don't get me wrong. I'm a man like most, but unlike most. I get hard-ons just like any pencil-packing nerd-man on this thing, but I have some standards. Women that feel that peddling their ass on the Internet just to get some attention are starved for just that. And, to make matters worse, when some guy finds out who they are and take advantage of them, they suddenly have this sob story about being violated and whatnot. Unfortunately for you, ladies, that story flies as well with me as believing that Michael Jackson doesn't love the smell of little boy poo-holes. Ladies, if you want some sleazebag online to notice you and get off on your picture, that's all well and good. However, don't expect men to favor your morals and standards just by posting some idiotic rhetoric about not being a slut, whore, or cum-guzzler in your profile. Men like that don't read that shit, and if they did, they'd laugh so hard they might have poo'd themselves. If you want men who respect you and will be that way from one point to the next, then show some respect and decency for yourself. Don't post the picture of you half-naked at the beach with a banana up your twat because you were drunk. Don't give men ideas that you'll put out easily. Maybe then you'll find a decent one amongst them who'll actually listen and care for you. And, while we're on the subject of finding good men, recognize the good men when you hear or see them. It's okay to keep a guard up, and it's a natural human reaction, but don't play head games with them. Just because men like to play them doesn't mean you have to fall into that lot. I personally believe that God gave men to women as a gift. It is the man's job to cherish, nurture, and show their appreciation for that gift whenever possible. If a man can't compliment you on more than just your looks, chances are he's only looking for your snapper and nothing more. If a man compliments you on your mind and soul, then they're probably genuinely nice. Of course, don't fall in love with them. They may turn out to be some serial killer who likes to eat eyeballs or something around those lines. Well, I'm done with my rant, so you can all go sleep in a ditch. Read my next post (when I feel like posting) soon or I'll cripple your asses with a lawn mower and a used car tire. Ta.

Hello, definitely not a juicy steak dinner, and welcome to the world of HackFest, the Internet's best attempt at moral decay since pornography. My name's Law, and if you call me otherwise, I'll pour live ants down your pants. Many of you who frequent MySpace and read my page may note that my original blogs for HackFest has moved to FuBar. I've done this for two reasons. One, to actually see who views and comments on my blogs, and two, because MySpace is as effective at individuality as a Chinese middle school. To those who are fans of the original HackFest on MySpace, you can still view the topics, though I have officially moved it to FuBar. For the record, a bulletin will be posted for my friends on MySpace for the occasion. Now to the rant of the day. Today's subject will be religion, since it's the only other topic that makes people's hair stand on end...and not in a good way. I've taken some time to myself to actually collect my thoughts and reasonings and try to find my spirituality. The problem wit this, of course, is that I ran out of small animal sacrifices to Ghazpork, so I had no other choice to turn to mainstream religion. This, of course, was my biggest mistake, and I'm not counting Vegas...no matter what you or that midget says. The problem I found with religion is that everyone believes they're right when in reality no one has any clue. Granted, I do believe in God, but I don't believe that God intended for all this to happen. People do really need to come to their senses and discover that ultimately we don't know it all. Maybe I am wrong and there is no God. Until I'm proven otherwise by the higher power Himself (or Herself for those of my Wiccan and pagan believers, blessed be) or until cult members shoot me in my sleep. To Christians who believe I'm blaspheming and about to pummel me with steel-covered Bibles, I point out the following: We are not God. We don't know His plan or will until He speaks it to us. That being said, don't attempt to dictate that I am wrong or right. "Judge not, lest ye be judged," after all. The summation of my beliefs? Believe in what you want, so long as it hurts no one and is beneficial to your spirit. As long as it's not Ghazpork. He'll probably eat you if you don't clean out his fridge every two days or so. That's it for HackFest this session. Read the next post or be raped by coked-up spider monkeys. Ta. Law