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Archive for the tag “injustice”

The Toad-licker Injustice Must Stop


I challenge you not to lick this toad.

Imagine the following scenario: you’re innocently walking down street, minding your own business, contemplating life, when you spot something out of the corner of your eye: on the grass sits a solitary toad. You make a mental note of the toad, but you don’t think much about it.

But as you carry on with your day, you can’t shake one niggling thought: I could have licked that toad.

It’s a thought that persists with you through the following days. It grows from a gentle nagging into a full-blown obsession.

Your days are filled with confusion and regret; your nights are haunted with sleepless torment.

And thus begins your journey as a toad-licker.

There’s no shame in being a toad-licker. You’re not hurting anybody. You’re still the same person you’ve always been, but people begin to see you differently.

Admittedly, a much higher than normal percentage of toad-kickers are criminally insane, but you’re not criminally insane; when the voices inside your head tell you to kill, you almost never listen to them.

Your friends begin to treat you differently. They subtly begin to remove you from their lives. The invitations to parties and get-togethers become less frequent. They say they fear you’ll suddenly produce a toad from your pocket and start licking it. They claim you’ll start licking a toad at a really inappropriate time.

You will produce a toad from your pocket and start licking it, but you’re discreet. Besides, if you can’t lick a toad at a funeral; when can you lick a toad?

Society tries to separate you. Society tries to ostracize you.

It’s not like you have Ebola, or the face of a goat, or you’re a Kardashian: YOU’RE NOT A FREAK!

I urge all of you to look into your hearts and give toad-lickers a chance; toad-lickers are people just like you and me…apart from all the toad-licking and the fact they rarely bathe.

Please, toad-lickers just need a little understanding…except for this guy–this guy’s a weirdo.

toad licker

This guy ruins it for everyone.

Oh the Injustice

no-justice3Oh I am just so mad.

I haven’t been this upset since those heartless bastards at “The Learning Channel” canceled Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.

(How am I supposed to learn about exploitative child beauty pageants, chalk miners, or dating registered sex offenders, now?)

I’m so rankled I could punch a mime in the face.

What is it that has me in such a state?

Injustice, that’s what has me going all Bruce Banner.

(I almost went all Bruce Forsyth, but I don’t think I could have pulled that off.)

bruce forsyth britain

Sir Bruce Forsyth. You don’t want to make him mad. You wouldn’t like him when he’s mad.

It seems the will of the people is going to be disregarded.

The Natural Environment Research Council launched a drive to find public suggestions for the name of their soon-to-be-built £200m research vessel.

They asked the people to speak, and the people spoke loudly. So rabid were the voters, the NERC website crashed under the weight of pure ship-nomenclature enthusiasm.

And what name was it that had the public so energized?

The RSS Boaty McBoatface

I know! Isn’t that awesome?


A research vessel tragically not named Boaty McBoatface.

Boaty McBoatface received 10 times more votes than the more serious second favorite, Henry Worsley, named for the British explorer who died in January near the end of his attempt to become the first person to cross the Antarctic unaided.

(Sometimes it’s okay to ask for help.)

But wait. It seems the powers that be aren’t thrilled by the choice. They feel the choice is silly and not at all suitable for something as serious as a research vessel. So, they’re going to ignore the will of the people and go with a name of their choosing. A name they feel is less ridiculous, more suitable.

I want the people of Britain to understand that here in the United States, we feel your pain. You may be losing Boaty McBoatface, but we’ve lost Honey Boo Boo.

Heartless bastards.


The RSS Honey Boo Boo…I like it.

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