Like every other American, I have done a fair amount of thinking over the past few years about the global Muslim community. I mean, how could I not? Every time I turn on the television, pick up a paper or open a web browser window, some wild-eyed latent homosexual like the one to the right is staring at me. Underneath his inbred visage is usually some caption about how he just tried to kill a bunch of women and children or some other equally courageous act. Take the recent Mohammed cartoon silliness. For those of you not in the know, a Danish newspaper published some caricatures of Mohammed (Allah’s prophet) that poked fun at militant Muslims. What happens? Muslims all across the world flip their shit. Muslims in France, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Malaysia… they all freak out. should go on… They use their rights to freedom of assembly and speech to demand that citizens of other countries (namely Danish newspaper editors) are denied their rights of freedom of speech and press. And to drive the point home that they are not irrational, violent and psychopathic, these savvy Muslims throw around some Molotov cocktails, send death threats, attack some police and trample to death some of their own in their frenzy. For years now, I have been unable to silence the repeating series of questions that constantly run though my mind. “How could a group of people be so mislead?” “What went wrong with the Islamic faith and when did it go wrong? Basically, “What the fuck is wrong with these people? Why does Islam have so many assholes in its ranks?” For years I have been tormented by these questions. Until a week ago…

But then I got distracted because my dog came in the room and started licking his own balls. It was then when I realized that even my dog was intelligent enough to follow the five pillars of Islamic faith. He had declared his faith in me and no other. He prays to me every time I am eating (some might call it begging, but then again is there really any difference?). I figure he is exempt from the third Pillar as he has never had in his possession seven-and-a-half tolas of gold. He fasts during Ramadan (from when I feed him before work until I come home at night and feed him again). He has never been to Mecca, but I guess that means he is only one plane ticket away from being a role model Muslim.

“But APB, are you really equating the Muslim community’s intelligence and free-thinking ability to that of a dog’s?!?” Yes, I am. “But that is RAAACIST!! Wahhh!” Oh for the love of sweet ass-slapping Allah, shut the fuck up! I know I’ll get some emails about me being a racist asshole because of this article, but allow me to try to head a few of those off at the pass. In case you haven’t read my RFFI article, let me clue you in on something. Bagging on a religion isn't racist, you twit. It is religionist… or something. If you want to accuse me of being a meanie towards a certain religion, go right ahead. But take your racist accusations, dip them in glue, roll them in rock salt and then jam them up your urethra, you fecal-feaster.

So back to my point, Islam caters to idiots—people who have three-pound sacks of waterlogged dicks where their brains should be. “So what is the conclusion? Why are you bestowing upon us this flawless pearl of your benevolent wisdom, Mr. APB?” Well, I am offering it as a partial explanation for why these fruitloops keep popping up on our living room TV’s, interrupting our Hungry Man BBQ Pork Extravaganza microwaved dinners with live reports on their idiotic actions. I am not, however, saying that all Muslims are stupid. I am not saying that most Muslims are stupid. But what I am saying is that if a stupid person is going to choose a religion, he/she is much more likely to pick Islam than any other because Islam is the community college of religions. So when millions of stupid people unit under the same religious banner, bad things are going to happen.

So when you turn on the news… when you visit cnn.com… when you strike up a casual conversation with some sausage-head asshole at Starbucks and the topic of Muslim aggression comes up, don’t get frustrated. Don’t get confused. Just remember that these people don’t know any better. They just need their noses rubbed in their own shit and piss to learn. So good thing we reelected Bush! He has been rubbing Muslim’s noses in shit for several years and thus has valuable experience.

Now, I am not really singling out places like Starbucks. Granted, if I had my way, each and every Starbucks across this country would be hit by a smart-bomb during their peak business hours. The average IQ of the nation would skyrocket in the blink of an eye and we would stop importing millions of dollars of coffee beans from Columbia—possibly the sleaziest of all Latin American countries (which is really saying a lot). But enough people bag on Starbucks. That shit is old and tired. What really gets my blood boiling is the “off the beaten path” type of coffee house. You know the kind… the kind with groovy lamps, chess boards on every other table, and some bitch behind the counter who is too busy playing with her tongue ring and reading a book on Nihilist philosophy to tend to the customers. These places attract the “tortured artist” types like schoolyards attract pedophiles. The tortured artists circle the sugar and cream bar like a creepy unshaven pedophile would circle a grade school. In fact, now that I think about it there is very little difference between the two groups. They are both dirty, unshaven social rejects who like their coffee strong and their boys young and tight.

It seems like every time I get dragged into one of these places by a friend who is looking for his/her caffeine fix I see the same, tired motherfuckers. Somewhere in the establishment, without fail, there will be AT LEAST one asshole who is “working on his script”. I love to sit back and watch these types. They hang out, sip their $4.89 quadruple chocolate hazelnut mocha as they peer through trendy, thick black spectacles at a crumpled wad of cheap printer paper which is secured together by one of those black paper clamps. This is their “script” or “book” or [insert impressive artistic opus noun here]. Every five minutes or so they slowly and laboriously raise their $2.75 Harvest Berry Maelstrom Scone to their mouths as if it is a fucking time bomb and they must gently diffuse it with their teeth. Then they nibble a tiny bit off of the end, and somehow that doesn’t defuse the bomb, but I guess it adds time to the clock because then they set it back down again. I swear to God one of these butt-sniffers could spend three hours eating three ounces of processed grain. “But they are tortured artists! Even eating is painful to them!” Yeah yeah, I know. So they sit there, nibbling on their overpriced piece of birdfeed, sipping on their faggy beverage… But what they are really doing is fishing. They are fishing for that stupid fucking bitch who will stumble up to their table, nearly tripping over her blonde hair and blurt out, “Oh my God!! Are you, like… a writer? Seriously? Woooooowwwww! That is, like totally awesome!” That is the big fish they are waiting for.

Not nine months ago your countries were ravaged by a tsunami. Who swooped in and came to your rescue? The grand ol' US of A. Our government and our public made relief donations of money, food and labor. Now we are in a similar situation to yours, yet I haven’t even seen a fruit basket arrive with a "Get Well Soon" card on it. Fuck you shifty little Asian bastards

Now I know that southern Asian countries are not rich enough to give donations that value in the billions (hell, let's be honest, lots of them can't even swing a few million). I am fine with that. But even poor fuckers should have heard the phrase, "It is the thought that counts". You pricks don't have to send us a cashier's check for 900 million bucks. But at least do something! Send us a box with a few pounds of rice, some firecrackers and some of those lamp-shade Viet Cong hats or something! Send us some of those snow-globes you assholes make in your child sweatshops--err, I mean "factories". Anything. ANYTHING!! Just send us something so we don’t feel like we helped out several countries full of self-centered, greedy jerkoffs.

Now that I have gotten that out, I am not meaning to imply the people of New Orleans deserve help. The local government called for an evacuation of the city. Thousands of people who live in a city that is below sea level heard that call, shrugged and said, "Fuck that. I think I will just chill where I am." Now they are paying the price of their bullheaded ignorance. It really pisses me off when I see some Katrina victim on the news say, "But all the buses going out of the city were full. We had to stay. We had no option!" FUCK YOU! It is called a "disaster" for a reason! If the buses are full, find another way out! Hire that old creole bastard Thadius Andinoille and his rowboat and get the fuck out! Do what you have to. There are always options. This is a perfect case of Darwinism revealing itself in modern day America. If you act like a dumbass, you might die. But oh we are supposed to feel sorry for Leroy Washington who claims he couldn’t get on a bus out of town. Aww, not everything was provided to you? Poor fucking baby.

For instance, tonight I was at the gym, minding my own business, repeatedly dropping a seventy pound dumbbell on the head of my penis (good anaerobic exercise, I hear) when I look up and see some nut-suckler wearing a knit beanie which had just about every color known to man in it. Orange, pink, purple, teal, maroon, etc. The sheer ugliness of the color scheme would have been enough to give one of the Fab Five a stroke. And to top it off (literally) there was one of those fuzzy balls on it. FUCK YOU INTERESTING HAT MAN!! Its about 90 goddamn degrees in here, you are wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt, but your head is dressed like that of a six-year-old snowboarder. That is so fucking interesting it makes me want to stomp your nuts into the gears of that Nautilus machine over there! How many thrift stores did that asshole have to visit before he found a hat which he could look at and say, “Wow, no one else will have this hat! By buying it and wearing it twenty-four hours a day I can strive to create an identity for myself… Maybe I can even be interesting!” What a loser.


And fuck people with interesting tattoos.

Oh, wow, you have Yum Cimil the Mayan god of death tattooed on your bicep and there are shark teeth all around it with some tribal band that borders the whole piece? Wow. That is really interesting. It is interesting that someone would be a big enough retard to associate himself with a culture that bit the dick over 1100 years ago! 1100 years ago the Mayans disappeared, their descendants presumably were integrated into the Aztec empire which got its dick kicked in by Cortez. Then these people of supposed Mayan ancestry were enslaved. Most died off because they were too pussy to handle slave life. The ones that remained were raped by generations of Spaniards, effectively diluting any Mayan blood that might have been left. If you ask me, having a Mayan tattoo of any sort is like wearing the jersey of a team that always fucking loses. The Mayans were unfit for survival and now you have inked them into your goddamn flesh. You might as well adopt the Arizona Diamondbacks as your favorite baseball team and invest in the Baldwin Family School of Acting, because you, sir, are a fucking tool.

But hey, those guys, as interesting as they were, are just the beginning. There is this other douche at work who is easily twice as interesting as Interesting Hat Man and three times as interesting as Interesting Mayan Tattoo Douche. This coworker of mine is a hard core punk. He has a liberty spike Mohawk, he wears a really interesting London Calling jean jacket and wears a shoulder holster. As interesting as his Mohawk and in-your-face jacket are, the shoulder holster definitely takes the interest-cake. Is there a gun in it? Of course not. He just rocks the shoulder holster… empty. And he wears no coat or jacket so that everyone can plainly see the shoulder holster. Why? Because it is interesting, dumbass!! What could be more interesting than that? It makes an individual wonder, “Does he even own a gun? Is his gun really there but it is invisible? Is it an imaginary gun? If I lunged at him, reached for his holster and pulled his imaginary gun out and pointed it at him would he raise his hands?” See? You take one look at that guy and you can’t help but be interested. He is so fucking interesting I have taken to collecting pens, notepads and other office supplies that he has touched or used. I am building a shrine out of them in my apartment where I sit and meditate—hoping to absorb some of that magic that makes him interesting.

He works one night a year but he has his elves working around the clock like a bunch of Filipino sweatshop workers. God knows how many labor laws that fat fucker is violating but we can’t do shit about it because the North Pole isn’t within US borders and his presents can’t really be considered imports since they are free. So NAFTA can’t mess with that shit. Actually, he is Canada’s responsibility since technically he is a Canadian. But is that really surprising seeing as how he has horrible fashion sense, bad hair and a goofy accent? But as much as I would like to blame Canada (for anything and everything), Santa Claus is really just an immigrant from Germany... come on, “Santa Claus”. That is as German as a name can get. So I should really focus my Santa-hatred at the country that spawned him.

So fuck you Germany!! I have been meaning to get around to writing a little shout-out to you fruits but it took the spirit of Saint Nick to provide adequate impetus. Germany threw around a lot of opinions during the whole Afghanistan and Iraq fiasco, basically criticizing the U.S. That combined with their shitty contribution of Santa to Christmas prompted me to express my opinion of their existence. That opinion can be efficiently conveyed in two words: Fuck Germany. But I suppose I should go on…

Fuck Germany and her lily-white mother-race. Fuck her totalitarian mentality that culminated in the slaughter of millions of Semites. Fuck the nasty-ass beer that is manufactured there and fuck October fest—not even the drunken Irish dedicate a whole month to alcoholic debauchery. October fest and beer gardens only serve as an excuse for your people to inebriate themselves to the point of cognitive collapse—or perhaps as a means for you to forget the horrific atrocities you have committed against humanity time and time again. Well, you’ve succeeded. You are drunken, forgetful pricks. Now move on to some other self-destructive behavior.

Fuck their citizens that judge our country after they have made thousands of scat and bestiality films—I refuse to listen to you while you still have a trace of human feces on your lower lip from the last film shoot. If you do a Google search for “scheisse sex” (“shit sex” in German) over 60,000 unique websites will come up. How do you people expect anyone to take you seriously when you can’t stop shitting on each other during sex?

Hispanic men who drive pickups full of crap: Do you really need all of the forty-seven cardboard boxes, six gasoline powered tools and two hundred pounds of scrap lumber/metal in the back of your fucking truck?! Not once have I seen a Hispanic male driving a truck that didn’t have its bed full of what could only be categorized as “miscellaneous crap.” It’s like every Hispanic guy with a pickup has driven around the city stopping only to steal grocery carts full of crazy-bum-possessions and dump them into the back of their pickup. What is all that shit for!? Are you guys really thinking to yourself that maybe, just maybe you might run into a life-and-death situation in which you need 300 square feet of moldy cardboard, ten pounds of scrap plywood and a weed whacker? What are you?—a ghetto-ass Latino version of MacGyver? Are you going to save the world with your recyclables? Clean out the bed of your fucking trucks, assholes!

Middle-aged White women with “War is not the answer” bumper stickers on their cars: No shit war is not the answer. It is the question and the answer is “yes”.

Aside from the distasteful ignorance these rats display in presuming that they can change my mind about foreign military policy with some trite slogan on an ugly bumper sticker, there is another reason I find these women to be utterly contemptible. Who are you ex-soccer-mom broads who think you have the experience and worldview requisite to even begin to comprehend war? Your lives have been an endless string of running errands to the local supermarket, shuttling your kids to and from little league practice and pretending you are too tired to spit-n-shine the knob of the guy who pays all the bills! And with this sort of background you expect me to take your opinions on politics seriously? At what point in your Plebeian life did you think it would be appropriate to develop “sophisticated” opinions? Stick to what you do best. Keep pumping munchkins out of your goo-hole and making PB&J’s with no crust. Save the rest of us the embarrassment of seeing your abortive, uninformed political views plastered all over the back bumper of your shitty Volvo.

“But APB! You are being unfair! No one can predict weather patterns, especially ones so impetuously inclement as those of Florida’s hurricane season!” Exactly. No one knows when the next category five hurricane will sweep up and down that peninsula like a giant elemental Cuban janitor on PCP. No one knows, so what do they do? They buy a 1987 Windstar trailer home with a busted septic tank and a corroded roof and then they park it on flat land three feet above sea level. Genious.

But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. These are the same people who not only couldn’t clamber over the intellectual hurdle that was the 2000 election ballot, but who also rank 40th out of all states for their quality of educational system… and if you ask me, 40th is being generous. (click here to see how your home state ranks, idiot)

Speaking of how stupid they are, I really wish I knew what goes through the heads of these trailer park kings and queens when they happen to see another person performing an intellectual miracle like tying his shoe without coaching himself through it with the child’s bunny ear nursery rhyme. Do they gape, slack jawed in wonder of how a simple human could perform such a feat? I have this vision of Florida as a modern Neanderthal state where a citizen from any other state could travel down there, pull a flashlight out of their pocket, turn it on and all of the natives would flee screaming, “Shaven One have fire-stick!!”

It wouldn’t be so bad if they were just passive recipients of their own bad moron-karma, but their asinine decision to continue living in a trailer home in Florida, year after year, storm after storm… that costs other non-stupid people money in the form of State and Federal taxes. Some time ago, when Hurricane Ivan was wreaking pinko havoc all over Florida, Governor Jeb Bush made sure that enough food was on hand to feed 1,000,000 people per day! Were does the loot necessary for this come from? State taxes and then Federal disaster support budgets. You pay for Joe-Bob Bourbon’s frank ‘n beans when his house blows away. But don’t relax just yet. Joe-Bob has his hairy, inbred digits deeper in your pocket than you might think at first.

Not only are you picking up his dinner tab, but Joe-Bob also gets tax write-offs for personal property damaged in any natural disaster (assuming the value of damaged property is high enough in proportion to his income--which it will be since Joe-Bob isn't exactly a high roller). Furthermore, if you are a Florida resident who has half a brain and a sturdy home, you might have hurricane insurance. Kinda pricey, isn't it? Why is it so expensive? Because tens of thousands of jerkoffs like Joe-Bob get basic coverage for their shitty motor homes or glorified lean-to’s valued at $20-50,000 a pop. The insurance companies have to cough up millions to Joe-Bob and Team White Trash after every tropical storm. This jacks up the legitimate citizen’s premiums.

Then as if Joe-Bob isn't already elbow deep in your pocket, sneaking a cop on your balls while he digs out all of your cash, some liberal asshole with a hard-on for “doing the right thing” is setting up a relief fund where other liberal pussies can donate money and then go down to the local coffee shop and wax philosophically about how they are sublime creatures making the world a better place wherein reality all they are doing is encouraging the behavior of Team White Trash.

As I was considering how I could just leave my car in a local park after running them down and perhaps the squirrels or birds might pick their remains out of the grill for me, saving me the revolting cleanup job, we approached a red light which the two cyclists ran. Who the fuck are you people!? If you want to ride on the road, then by all means go ahead. It is your right as a citizen. But fucking obey the laws! Furthermore, I’ve been told that the reason people choose to cycle is for exercise, right? If this were true, however, they would surely stop at the fucking lights. Because they would then have to start back up again which is hard. This way they would get a better workout. So something doesn’t add up there. Additionally, why wear the spandex stuff? That only makes the riding easier. If you are a serious, training cyclist you should wear a fucking Jesus robe and an open parachute to add more drag and wind resistance so you get a better work out. (This also goes for all you fruitcakes at the pool wearing Speedos. Unless you are competing in the 500 meter butterfy, spare us all the discomfort of being forced to look at your shrink wrapped nuts. Quit foisting that shit on us.)

Given this blatant dichotomy between the cyclists’ alleged motivation for their actions (getting a good workout) and their illogical and inefficient means of accomplishing that end (wearing outfits that sabotage the intensity of the workout and cruising through stoplights), the only reasonable conclusion is that there exists another factor.

Since the hermetically sealed spandex outfits that all of these goons wear do not actually assist them in achieving their goal and in fact make it more difficult for them to do so, the only logical conclusion is that these fruity bastards actually like wearing that shit. They just love squeezing into little hot pink outfits and going out on the town to show them off. Well, I got some advice for all you effeminate bastards that like slipping into slinky little outfits… Become transvestites. At least that way you can satiate your deviant clothing fetishes and you won’t be on the fucking road getting in my way. You might even get a decent workout buffing tube-steak at some rural truck stop.

To me, cyclists symbolize all that is wrong with this country today. Their egocentric disregard for the remainder of humanity (evidenced by their consistent violation of both traffic laws and commonly accepted mores of etiquette) is regrettably rampant in our society. Their willingness to spend a thousand dollars on a custom made ten-speed when running (free) is a better workout is symbolic of our society’s propensity to waste money—a habit that has earned us a reputation for shameful extravagance the world over. And the way they are quick to point out that the law protects their cycling on the street but then conveniently overlook the fact that once on the street they break all the traffic laws is a prime example of how just about every asshole today thinks he/she is a fucking bar-licensed lawyer.

One day, be it tomorrow or five years from now, Britney Spears will go bankrupt, get hooked on crack and end up doing amateur porn to pay for her addiction. And when that happens, I will be there. I will be there with my broadband internet connection ready to download it for free so that twat doesn’t make a penny off of it. I will be there as the metrosexual VH1 execs hatch their idea to do a “Behind the Music” episode about Britney “Crack Rock” Spears. I will be there on my dirty futon in my ghetto-ass apartment watching the show when it airs content with the fact that I have already seen all of the porn footage that they can’t show on regular TV. I will be there and I will be happy.

I will bear witness to the demise of MTV. That herpes ridden sack of tortoise shit only has a few more good years left before the American public realizes that it is a hypocrite media whore of an organization. I will watch and smile as that behemoth of a corporation crumples like an origami dragon under the boot of independent thought and social progression. I will be there, and I will masturbate profusely.

With luck, someday America will wake up to the fact that we owe the rest of the world nothing. We have been Earth’s benevolent babysitter for over a century and no one has even offered us a “thank you.” It is time that Lady Liberty put her purse in the closet and grew a set of balls. Big brass ones for that matter. In fact, maybe sometime in my life I will see the Statue of Liberty outfitted with a new substantial bulge in her toga and feel confusedly proud. I won’t masturbate that day, but I will feel happy nonetheless.

Someday a big purple flying saucer will descend from the sky over Washington D.C. A green, egg-headed alien will step off of it. It will then look at the astonished crowd that has gathered and say in perfect English, “There is no God.” Then it will get back in its ship and take off. Maybe then all of the bible-beaters will stop waving their leather-bound stack of lies in my face and shut the fuck up for long enough to realize they have molded their lives around an obsolete text full of putrid attempts at mass manipulation.

Consider these truths, my friends. Perhaps you as well can find peace in knowing that these events will come to pass.

And what are chop sticks anyway? Two fucking sticks! How can anyone even call that a “utensil”? It isn't one!! Look around you right now. I bet there are thirty or forty items within twelve feet of you that could work as chop sticks in a pinch. I love it when someone gets Chinese take out and the chef forgot to throw in a pair of chop sticks. Then they sit down, ready to look ultra-sophisticated with a nice, polished pair of chop sticks, and then they realize they don’t have any. “Aww, they didn’t include chop sticks!” Well, Sweet Midget-Tossing Jesus! Here, take a fucking pen and this tampon applicator. There, you got yourself chop sticks. I mean, after all, if you are a chop stick purist, all you really need are two thin, ridged cylinders, right? Well, there ya go. You got a Bic and Kotex. Bon appétit, motherfucker.

Fuck the Asian wannabe gangstas driving their tricked-out Hondas with oversized spoilers and tacky rims who all glare at me when I walk down the street with an Asian girl. Fuck the cracker-ass, white bread investment bankers and corporate lawyers who migrated to San Fran from the Midwest to suck capitalism’s cock in the hopes of catching its juicy, stock option load in their greedy mouths. Fuck the deviant trust-fund sodomites that prance about, taking every opportunity to celebrate inane and trivial holidays while the rest of the world arm-wrestles with economic Darwinism. Fuck the weekend warrior Vato Locos in their El Caminos who think just ‘cause they are Latino they can intimidate me. Fuck the bitch-ass cops and their dogmatic enforcement of asinine drunk driving laws. Fuck the Jewish landlords who perpetuate stereotypes by fabricating excuse after excuse for not repairing the 1970’s elevator in my ghetto-ass, over priced, chamber pot of an apartment. Fuck the Black sellouts that move to San Fran, smoke a joint, bang a white chick and then abandon their race. You are pathetic. Fuck the hippies and pseudo-intellectuals and all their ego-driven political demonstrations—a homemade picket sign protesting the endangerment of the South African monarch butterfly is just pitiable.

And perhaps even more so, fuck the Berkeley professors who poisoned their students’ minds with ridiculously imbalanced left wing ideologies and the megalomania requisite to let them assume that anyone else cared. Fuck the quasi-dykes and their no-bra policy—tits at your waist is not only nauseating but classless. Along those lines, fuck the ratty-ass bitches with jet black bangs an inch and a half long that make them look like an eighties-era Lego figure with a replaceable scalp. Fuck the ethnically ambiguous taxi cab drivers that immigrated to this country to rip me off with bullshit charges. Fuck the bouncers that think they are tougher than a two-pound trigger pull. Fuck gay pride and all of its parades featuring six-foot-seven drag queens with leg hair. If I expressed pride in my heterosexuality with a parade I would be labeled a conservative bigot. Fuck the month of February and its haphazard linkage to African American history—does any other race get an entire friggin twenty-eight days? Fuck Palo Al