Showing posts with label Huevos Rancheros. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Huevos Rancheros. Show all posts

Friday, June 25, 2010

I Think We're Gonna Need A Bigger Boat


Y’all might remember this story: A while back, one bad-assed Carcharodon carcharias was munchin’ on Amity Islanders like they were Krispy Kremes. The PoPo was freakin’ out…the short dude from The Goodbye Girl was freakin’ out…everyone on the island was freakin’ out ‘ceptin’ the one dude who should have been…the Mayor. You know, the guy in charge.


That story reminds me of what’s happening in the Gulf of Mexico. We’ve got this life-devouring monster killing wildlife and wetlands and, in the future, people – and politicians are acting like Mayor Larry Vaughn. Caribou Barbie? “Drill Baby Drill.” Governor Alfred E. Neumann? “A drilling moratorium will kill jobs.” Senator sucking at the monetary teat of big oil? “I’m sorry that you have to pay.”


What we need right now is a real-life Sam Quint. Someone to screech his fingernails down the chalkboard of our collective brain pans. Someone with the huevos rancheros to take down this beast. Someone who is in this thing to help the American people…unlike government-cheese dicks looking out for the one thing they really care about…their careers. Any takers?

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Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Willie's Wonker




Well, it looks like Bill Clinton’s wandering doodle finally did some good. Thanks for getting our grrlz back Willie! So, In honor of Bill’s bodacious boner…and in honor of John “I Won’t Resign” Ensign…and in honor of Mark “Holier-Than-Thou” Sanford, we give to you a song written especially for them… BFS’s newest song – My Wena.



BTW…Yo, Senator Ensign and Governor Sanford…at least Tennessee State Senator Paul Stanley had the huevos rancheros to resign. You both are still a couple of wussies!


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Thursday, September 6, 2007

Finding Nemo

We’ve got nothing but love and respect for Steve Fossett.


Hell, anyone who can circumnavigate the whole friggin’ globe in a lousy balloon sports huevos rancheros grande.


But we have to ask. If you, dear reader, were the one missing, do you think they’d have seven planes, three helicopters, a boat and hundreds of people out there pounding the bush looking for your sorry ass? No.


Hell, if they looked for OBL with this much firepower, we’d have him by now.


It just proves PTB’s ongoing point. If you’re rich in this country, you get a LOT better treatment from the government-cheese than if you’re poor.


(8.-)