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Vlad Tepes presents Best Sequel Title Ideas of All Time
1. Sex and the City 3: Rise of the Machines
2. Schindler’s List 2: Electric Boogalo
3. Indiana Jones 5: We Have Nothing But Contempt For All You Sad Pricks and Assholes Who Pay Money to See This Utter Crap
4. Transformers 4: Because We Can And You Assholes Will Still Pay
5. Fast and the Furious 6: We Do This to Keep Two Utterly Shit Actors Out of Decent Films. You’re Welcome.
6. Scream 5: Scream Four plus One
7. Sex and the City 4: Yes, These Now Fucking Wrinkled Hags Will Be Naked in 3D
8. Saw VV: After VII, We Don’t Know How the Roman Numerals Go
9. Avatar 2: The Search For a Fucking Story
10. Madea Goes Straight to Video
April’s Stupid Asshole of the Month
Every month there is exceedingly stiff competition for the coveted asshole of the month prize. Glenn Beck is always a contender. Wolf Blitzer in the past few months has really risen to prominence. Charlie Sheen, well, he is certainly always “winning” in these stakes. But one man, one unknown entity, has somehow risen from obscurity, and taken the trophy from these heavyweights.
Enter Matthew Millan, a wannabe filmmaker residing in the shithole par excellence of Los Angeles, California. So how, you ask, does a relative unknown rise to the top of the steaming pile of douchebags to win the award? Simple. This prick is going to Libya to make a film! Yes, you heard it. Libya! Home of Gaddafi, a man who recklessly invaded Chad (who still has trouble sitting on a hard surface to this day), bombed a German nightclub, plotted the Lockerbie disaster, and worst of all, purchased a nuclear warhead made from used pinball parts. And Matthew “Middle-Aged Attention Whore” Millan is going to his backyard to make a little film on god knows, or cares for that matter, what.
I lived my whole life immersed in the most brutal violence imaginable, for I was just a product of the times. But it really, really takes a dipshit of the highest order to actively seek out a conflict, particularly one centered around an even bigger tit than myself. God bless Tiny Tim.
And so I call on all of my followers, and all 10 readers, to support this idiot in this ridiculous, 64 calorie T.E Lawrence endeavor. Why, you ask? Simple. This is certainly going to end up being the 4th installment of Jackass, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Short of stapling his nutsack to Saif Gaddafi’s thigh, I can’t see how this could possibly be more hilarious. So, please my dear readers, if you are loyal to comedy, then give this asshole some money so he can not only go into the lion’s den, but stick his finger up its butthole. You can donate your money to the cause below:
Vlad Tepes Presents Best Female Celebrity Names…Violated.
1. I’d Scarlett her Johansson
2. I’d Sandra her Bullock
3. I’d consider Kieraing her Knightley
4. I’d Marcia her Gay Harden
5. I’d Mila her Kunis
6. I’d Rosario her Dawson
7. I’d Beyonce her Knowles
8. I’d Lucy her Liu
9. I’d Emily her Blunt
10. I’d Britney her Spears
11. I would under no conditions Oprah her Winfrey
Charlie Sheen’s War
Recent developments in North Africa, and within the labrythine mind of Charlie Sheen may at first glance seem completely unrelated. Yet an astute observer, like a certain 570 year-old prince for example, will pick up telling correlations between these events. As a butterfly flapping its wings in California causes a typhoon in Japan, the apparent breakdown of Mr. Sheen has in fact accelerated the wind of revolution around the world. So the real question to ask is not if these events are related, but how they are related.
Pax Wolfowitza
The acrid stench of rebellion has been so strong, so overpowering, that it has even stirred the old guard neo-cons from their slumber. Led by Paul Wolfowitz and the other chicken-hawks descended directly from complete-and-utter-prick DNA extracted from Lucy’s pimp in Ethiopia, the Pax Americana Wild Bunch have called for immediate intervention in Libya. This is of course all in the name of democracy and human rights, two themes entirely consistent with their impressive track records. Seriously, any half-witted dipshit can see through this doo doo-stained veil. But how, you ask, can this possibly relate to that quixotic guy known for his ground-breaking roles in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Men at Work?
Narcissus Raped by Adonis
As a hilarious consequence of the costly picnics in Iraq and Afghanistan, United States foreign policy is in serious trouble. A blowback of Category-5 proportions, so to speak. The aging narcissistic autocrats who supported the powerful American military-industrial complex are being jettisoned into the Mediterranean faster than Paris Hilton can spread her frighteningly virulent strain of HPV (approximately 96% the speed of light). Alas, how things were looking so different in the early part of the century. M1 Abrams, tear gas cannisters, Poison CD’s and Barney, you name it were being shipped over to these friendly megalomaniacs for a little bit of oil money, and some friendly Rendition favors enacted on Pakistani cab drivers. Hell, even Mr. Lockerbie himself, Colonel Gaddafi threw his ridiculous Psychic Network looking hat into the ring of counter-terrorism.
Yet within these past few calamitous weeks, the whole world has been turned on its head, all thanks to Zuckerburg and his previously outlined plans for world domination. The neo-cons rightly suspect that Pharaoh Zuckerburg cannot be possibly be contained, indeed making him a serious threat to their amusingly nefarious designs. As masters of imp-provisation, they have reluctantly stepped away from their retirement glory holes to scour the land for worthy replacements to their friendly despots. But not just any old royal dick-heads can rule these treacherous nations, particularly ones divided along tribal lines. A tricky business finding Pol Pot caliber assholes to control the rabble. Yet as we know, nothing comes out of a vacuum, apart from a reckless teenager’s penis. Concurrently, rigorous scientific investigations into the very fabric of human DNA have led to a startling discovery. For years, it was widely suspected that every despotic ruler in human history has had a certain mojo, a certain je ne sais quoi, a staggering level of prickery that would even make The Situation from Jersey Shore blanch. But the smoking gun was never found. That is until the mojo was serendipitously discovered in a UCLA laboratory in 2009. The Adonis Gene. Yes, every tyrant in the history of civilization can trace his lineage to the ports of Phoenicia, and to the divine scrotal sack of Adonis himself.
Although normally loathe to accept any scientific methodology, Mr Wolfowitz and his merry band of Ring Wraiths saw a glorious opportunity. Celebrity culture in the United States is capable of staggering levels of narcissism, making it a seminally-coated petri dish of perfect candidates for all of these open dictatorial positions. So without delay, the Wolf Pack dusted off the old strip club napkins and revised the Project for a New American Century, and consequently Pax Americana. Their pretty young oil boy assistants were duly instructed to wash their mouths out, and contact the celebrity world forthwith. Auditions were then held for the still unfilled roles in North Africa. But not just any narcissistic tabloid tit could qualify. The right celebrity had to demonstrate beyond all doubt that certain je ne sais quoi. That level of self-loving douchebaggery so great that it could only be traced to the God of Douchebags himself. Adonis.
High on Sheen
And so enter the man. Enter the son of the gods. Enter…Wild Thing. Swaggering toward the mound in his algebra teacher’s spectacles, poised to hurl a 101 mph missile right at the undescended nuts of the media machine. Charlie Sheen. High on celebrity. High on life. High on…Charlie Sheen. And honestly, what better replacement for the King of Kings than a man who can overdose on himself? I mean, if he hasn’t developed a tolerance to Charlie Sheen after 45 years of hard use, then that must be some really powerful shit. So it is easy to imagine the neo-CONS concluding that six million downtrodden Libyans may well be vulnerable to 1 gram, let alone 70 kilos of Charlie Sheen. In fact, conservative jump-to-bizarre-conclusions-without-any-evidence-tank population models suggest that Libyans will be addicted within a matter of weeks, and ravenous zombies bent on their Sheen fix in only a matter of months. By 2012, what’s left of their dignity will be flushed down the toilet. Even more worryingly, these projections point to the entire Muslim World, 1.5 billion poor souls, becoming irreversibly addicted to Sheen, or some toxic variant by 2015. And once again, the Project for a New American Century will be in place. Pax Americana back on track, and firmly within the grasp of the neo-knob gobblers.
So where, you ask, does this leave Charlie Sheen? He’s too high to give a shit.
Despots of the World Unite!
In the year of your Lord 2011, a foul wind is blowing. Just months ago, it was nothing but an inconsequential breeze of discontent. Yet within a blink of my ancient eye, this breeze has grown to gale force levels. From a little back desert covering the salted ruins of Carthage to the STD ravaged-mummies of the Ptolemy line, the gale, a miasma of self-righteous freedom, has enveloped the whole of North Africa and the Middle East. The firmly entrenched autocracies of the region now suddenly find themselves completely uprooted, and floating toward the history books that no American will ever read.
But who is behind this madness? The collective will of a humiliated Arab nation? The Islamist extremist bogeymen of neo-conservative wet dreams? The “experts” on media outlets bandy about a steaming pile of explanations, it seems each one vying to be further from the truth. But listen not to those insufferable assholes, whether they be the fascist-tastic rants of Glenn Beck, the “Mubarak is a force for good. Um, what? Oh, shit! I mean the people have spoken, and Mubarak must go” one-two of Hilary Clinton, or the seemingly reasoned, but still dogshit arguments of Zakaria. All of their explanations are fucking absurd, and entrenched in their own ever flowing dogmatic diarrhea.
So who then is the source? Why are these harmless little dictators – who have never hurt anyone apart from 96% of their population and countless livestock – being ousted? After watching what some stupid pricks have called the most important film of our era, I have determined that it can be only one man behind this mess. One man and his diabolical…megalomaniacal scheme.
Zuckerburg!
Ever since this socially inept dipshit somehow stumbled upon the map of success with Facebook, he has had but one goal, and one goal only. A prize for all time. No, this prize is not in his billions, nor in his algorithms. The prize, my simple friends, lies within the abandoned ruins of Carthage. On the shores of Tripoli. Beneath the city of Alexandria. In the heart of the Holy Land. Don’t you now see it, my despotic brethren? This awkward and abrasive tit plans to trump us all, and become the great monopolizer of our sacred dictatorships. You can see it in his beady eyes.
Where, I ask you, is the level playing field? Why doesn’t anybody speak out? Where are the anti-trust laws protecting our mom and pop dictatorships from monopolization? Under these circumstances, we can’t possibly compete against him and his 13 year old cronies. I mean, how the hell can we put down a rebellion if its origin is some whining asshole’s tweet about not having a job? Or a say in the government? Or food? Or money for clothes? Well, maybe he shouldn’t have spent his money on the iphone then.
As a former middling dictator, my heart goes out to these little despots. These pioneers, these small-folk. These brave men who managed against all odds to carve out their little part of the world…with their own sweat, their own toil (and their own M1 Abrams provided by the United States). And now this half child – half douchebag comes along and takes it all away from the elder statesmen of the Middle East?
Though we be cast adrift in the sea change, do not fear. You can make a difference. Your voices shall be heard above the tumult of the unwashed. So all of you little dictators come out from your exile, whether you are stuck in a palace in Saudi Arabia, or a cozy house in Hawaii. Start tweeting. Update your facebook. Put your current employment status on linkedIn. The world shall no longer be deaf to your plight. I speak not for just a few aging autocrats, but for the multitude…the poor disenfranchised dictators who have been bullied for 6000 years by the Zuckerburgs of civilization.
Let us strike back with the pube-haired nob’s own arsenal…before it is too late. We can turn the tide, my friends, but we must act now. And so I summon forth my own little social network. Update my own status. Tweet my own revolutionary tweets. RT@ben ali gaddafi and mubarak never give up never surrender despots of the world unite lol! And then pat myself on the back for making a difference.
The Secret-ion
During the glorious, yet broken years of my fateful reigns, the population of the known world was largely dominated by stupid, illiterate peasants…peasants retarded enough to believe in the undead. Uneducated enough to believe that the earth was the center of the universe. And gullible enough to believe that fanciful bile, gushing and spewing forth from the gaping mouth of the ravenous Church. Yet really…could you blame those poor bastards? I mean, look at the times…look at the environment. After all, those filthy, wretched souls were buried neck-deep in the peanuty shit of human history. Black Death was but a recent memory. Warfare was so rife that no asshole was left un-penetrated (much like no child is left behind today). And The Inquisition. Ah, the lovely Inquisition. The Church’s chumly way of saying, “thank you for the precious gold. Now here’s a nice glowing pin for your unwashed genitals.”
And so…182,500 bowel movements on from the 15th century, I re-emerge to find an Age of Illumination, an age where the known world has grown to encompass a cloudy blue ball that orbits a mediocre sun, on the outskirts of a nondescript galaxy, in an average cluster…and expanding within the topography of spacetime. An age, I dare say, where illiteracy has mostly been eradicated from the industrialized world. So how then, in this brave new world, did some unknown Australian bimbo pull off such a brilliant stunt, one that would put even the 15th century Church to shame?
Some Things Never Change
One of the disadvantages of omniscience is that you know everything…whether you like it or not. And I say this with a heavy heart. For, in my cosmic omniscience, I have become aware of The Law of Attraction. Yes, the “law” that claims: if you really want something, and truly, truly believe it’s possible..well then , you’ll get it. Moses’ Taint, these fucking morons dare call this a law? I mean, I’m a 15th century noble who was conditioned to believe that washing my asshole with water was an ironclad death sentence, and yet I can see through the veil, and gauge how bullshit this law is?
Do You Even Know What a Law Is?
What the hell is wrong with you people? Are you really stupid enough to believe that The Universe gives a shit about what you think? That somehow if you think only positive thoughts that the Cosmos will reward you with positive energy? Suddenly, every environmental factor rendered meaningless, just because you wanted that new ipod? So let’s clear this up once and for all, Rhonda. Are you saying that every asshole in Chile prayed and prayed for a 9.0 magnitude earthquake? And all of the 250,000 people littering the Indian Ocean in the aftermath of the 2004 tsunami were just begging for a good drowning? Do you even know what a scientific law is? Where, oh where is the verifiable evidence that proves this so-called law of attraction? Hypothesis? Challenging experiment? Where is your scientific method (one of the great triumphs of The Age of Enlightenment)? It’s nowhere to be found, for you insufferable pricks are still floating around the same intellectual level as those poor peasant subjects of the distant past. 6,000 years of human civilization, and only 1% of you have made it past the veritable 3rd level of Tetris.
Vlad’s Law, a.k.a. The Rhonda Byrne is a Useless Whore Theorem
Can you not see that you are being misled by this unattractive blonde tart from Down Under? Can you not discern that she has discovered the true Secret? A law that states implicitly: If you write a book about some “secret law” of The Universe, then you will make millions off of the critical mass of intellectual vacancy.
Hell’s Titties, if she can play that game, then I have a law for all of you gormless tits as well. I call it Vlad’s Law, a noble law which eloquently states: When you think positive thoughts, and wish for certain things to come your way, then The Universe will suddenly remember that you exist. What it sees though is not a beautiful being of light and love, but instead a large, inviting pair of nuts, dangling to and fro in its cosmic domain. In response, The Universe shall proceed to summarily kick you “squaw” in those dangling nuts, and reap its justifiable vengeance for you being such a fucking retard…and a glaring insult to the priceless gift of awareness.
Vlad Tepes Presents: Excerpts from Songs that I Have Horribly Corrupted
1. Blasphemous Rumours by Depeche Mode
I don’t want to start any blasphemous rumours
But I think on his balls that God has a tumour
And when I die, I expect to find him nut-less…
(I suppose that is something of a blasphemous rumor,
but I do feel truly compelled to start it. If God made me,
he knew what he was getting into…)
2. Take a Dump on Me by Abba
This may sound absurd
but if you have spare turds
Won’t you set them free
Take a dump on me
Stand above my back
Open up your crack
On the count of three
Take a dump on me…
3. Han Solo by Def Leppard
I got to feel it in my butt, whoa-oh
I need your Jabba, don’t need your Hutt, whoa-oh
And I want
And I need
And I lust
Han Solo…
4. Africa by Toto ( I am surely going to hell for this one and the first one)
Can’t believe what I did that night
Guess I should have stuck to ritual masturbation
Two wrongs never made a right
Still I think I’ll spread my wealth across the nation
But I won’t go without a fight, hurry boy, death’s wating there for you…
CHORUS: Gonna take a lot to get me away from you
Not something specialists could ever do
I got the AIDS down in Africa
Gonna take my time to spread this great and deadly pla-ayyyyyy-ayy-ague oooh-oooh…
5. Don’t You Urinate on Me by Simple Minds
Will you stand above me
Whip out your golden shower rod
And rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling…down down down down
Sailing on the Yellow Sea
Call my name as we sword fight
And rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling…down down down down
Vlad Tepes Presents: Top 5 Celebrity Names
1. Albert Pujols. Baseball. St Louis Cardinals
Perhaps the greatest name in sports history. I would watch Cardinals games just to hear the unintentional innuendos from the commentators. And to get me sitting through a whole baseball game takes some doing. Oh…the sheer discipline these sportscasters possess to keep from absolutely losing it every time Pujols steps up to the plate.
Favorite quote: “Pujols takes a ball.”
2. David Seaman. Soccer. Former Arsenal and England Goalkeeper
This one takes absolutely no imagination, does it? The 3rd grader in me always surfaces whenever I hear his name uttered. On its own, the name Seaman is absolutely hilarious, but when former Manchester United midfielder (and all-round crap player) Nicky Butt also graced the England colors, it became the stuff of legends.
Favorite quote: “Here’s Seaman…to Butt.”
3. Dick Trickle. Former NASCAR driver
Jesus Christ. Does this bastard have any sense? Or is he just the most self deprecating asshole in the world? For god’s sake, if your name is Richard Trickle, have your friends call you Rich!
Favorite quote: Just mention his name. That’s enough.
4. Udo Dirkschneider. Singer. ACCEPT
This man has what Sebastian Bach called the greatest name in metal, and for once, I wholeheartedly agree with that poncy piece of butt-rock residue. My word, Mr. Dirkschneider is a perfect storm of ingredients, all swirling around to form one brilliant package: a very short, chubby German guy, who wears camoulflage pajamas, and looks like a cross between a hobbit and that lecherous, child-molesting homeless man in the song “Aqualung”.
Favorite quote: “You got your balls to the wall, man.”
5. Dick Butkus. Football. Former Chicago Bears Linebacker
I have no way of verifying this, but a young Richard Butkus may well have believed that he was too much of a pussy, and consequently, made the counter-intuitive decision to employ the “Boy Named Sue” tactic on himself. I mean, let’s face it. You would need to be tough as nails to survive with a name like that. Mr Butkus would later become one of the greatest linebackers in NFL history, so who am I to argue? Well done, sir.
Favorite quote: I don’t really listen, as I get so distracted by his name
Honorable mentions: Dean Windass, Rip Torn, Jim Bob Cooter, Stefan Kuntz
Favorite quote from a commentator:
Euro 96 England-Germany semifinal. Stefan Kuntz receives a pass from Jurgen Klinsmann, and the commentator stumbles, “Matthias to Sammer, to Klinsmann…Kuntz”
Vlad Tepes presents: The Top 20 Movie Titles That Should Have Been Porno Titles
1. There Will Be Blood
2. Silence of the Lambs
3. Lorenzo’s Oil
4. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
5. Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead
6. Three Men and a Little Lady
7. Big Trouble in Little China
8. The Hard Way
9. Backdraft
10. 300
11. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
12. 12 Angry Men
13. The Third Man
14. The Elephant Man
15. Strangers on a Train
16. 8 1/2
17. 12 Monkeys
18 Brief Encounter
19. The 400 Blows
20. Grease
