Mel Gibson to join reunited Norwegian Satanic Metal band Burzum

A burning church, Norway--At precisely 7 a.m. GMT, the recently reunited metal band announced to the international press that Mel Gibson would now be fronting the group. So as not to confuse hipsters, they explained that Gibson "wouldn't be disrespecting us--quite the contrary," but "will be out front singing for us, on vocals. Thank you all, and have a nice day, especially Jews."

In the spirit of tolerance and brotherly love, the band produced a sampling of song lyrics (still in their embryonic stage) Gibson wrote and will be singing from his padded cell in Los Angeles, via satellite.

The song is titled, "Flowers, My Dearest Love":

Stay on this phone and don't hang up on me.
I have plenty of energy to drive over there.
You understand me? (repeat four times)
AND I WILL! (repeat four times)
SO JUST F------ LISTEN TO ME.
LISTEN TO MY F------ RANTING.
LISTEN TO WHAT YOU DO TO ME.

You have no f--king soul.
I left my wife because we had no spiritual common ground.
You and I have none, zero.
You won't even f---king try.
You don't care.
You don't care.
You don't care.

I'll put you in a f---ing rose garden you c--t!
You understand that?
Because I'm capable of it.
You understand that?
You understand that?
You understand that?
AND I WILL! (repeat four times)
SO JUST F------ LISTEN TO ME.
LISTEN TO MY F------ RANTING. LISTEN TO WHAT YOU DO TO ME. (all lyrics by Mel Gibson, 2010)

In an unsurprising turn, Mel's volume of fan mail from disturbed women proposing marriage rose, while the market fell. Most of the new material will return to their black metal roots, eschewing (whatever the fuck that is) their more recent attempts at crust punk (whatever the fuck that is).

"Twenty lines with the president," a fictional satire of a fictional satire by the Great Charles Sheen

Twenty Lines With the President

Reported by CHARLIE SHEEN and his friend "Manly Gloss" [insert fear-based advertising]

Infopwarsh

Tuesday, September eleventy-twelve, 2009


Related: "Sheen blasts media for reporting truth about his addictions."

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I recently--hiccough!--had the great pleasure of spending time with the president and several substances, some legal, others not. Bouncing a hooker on my knee was out, so I hid her in the bathroom of the Lincoln bedroom with my friend and erstwhile cohort, "Manly Gloss." The funny thing is, nobody else can see Manly, but I can assure you readers and my family (you can forget about the interventions pa, I have a gun now) that Manly's as real as you or me. Where the hell was I? Sorry, had to some DTs coming on...shit, uh--OH YEAH! Alex Jones asked me--since I'm famous, on the most popular TV comedy right now, to write an interview with President Barack HUSSEIN Obama, the 44th POTUS, and a socialist (needed spellcheck on that one!) darkie.

Our ersatz interview was conducamacated in the Lincoln bedroom, a place in the White House where the spirit of that assassinated president is sometimes seen, along with the smell of other spirits, so it was right up my alley. An autistic fella told me that twenty minutes is comprised of 1200 seconds, which is profound for a drunk, washed-up cokehead and whore-monger like yours truly, but it got me to thinking: "What the fuck was I thinking about with this interview, anyway?!"

I mean, the readers here at prisontoilet and infopwarsh are so retarded they're gonna think this shit is real, y'know? You think I'm wrong? Look at the comments below, fuck me, and I mean it, I have a sexual addiction...

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Charlie Sheen: Uh--burp!--sorry about that Mr. President, I had a few-too-many on the red eye here to nation's capital, they just keep shoveling them into your lap--especially when you demand it every five minutes.

Barack Obama: Well--uh--thank you--uh--Charlie, and I have to say that I watch your "Two and a Half Men" show frequently here in the Oval office, it's as entertaining as the Tea Baggers and the town hall folks. It's a nice apolitical break from a hard day's work of avoiding the real issues, and I can tell you that that's a very hard job indeed. But then, that's what Rahm's for: to remind who's really in charge.

Manly Gloss: Shhhhhhhhhhhh...

CS: [Looks over to the bathroom of the Lincoln bedroom] Shut the fuck up!

BO: Uh...what was that?

Manly Gloss: Look--Charlie--you created me to find some kind of much needed objectivity here. What's the deal? Just get on with the interview, don't respond to me, ignore the man behind the curtain of reality.

CS: Right. Er, Mr. President. Why won't you examine the issue of thermite being found in the residue around the WTC ruins? Sorry, bad copy, Alex wrote this.

BO: Well, Charlie, the scientific community is in-consensus on this. "Nano-thermite" is a byproduct in welding. Also, nano-thermite is created from the super-heating of aluminum and steel. As anyone knows, much of the WTC was constructed of steel, the planes were constructed of aluminum, and the very girders of the buildings that were destroyed on 9/11 were fused together through conventional welding.

CS: Shit, you got me Mr. President--but do you agree with the findings of the 9/11 Commission then? I was hoping to create a straw man argument here, but you're clever, at least three-moves ahead of me, what with that homespun "negro wisdom" and all. I mean, you got me, I knew it too. God, I wish I had that "voice of authority" my pops has...

BO: Well, you know Charles--may I call you that?

CS: Certainly, sir. I feel like I'm talking to myself, this is so natural.

BO: Hahahaha, indeed it is Charles. You see, you understood this because you're Black Irish. We'll leave it at that, heh-heh. [They both laugh, then stop abruptly, becoming very serious]

Manly Gloss: Pssst! Charlie! Ask him about his birth certificate.

CS: Nah-nah, no way!

BO: Who are you talking to? Charles, I'm frankly becoming concerned for you.

CS: Look, Mr. President, I know something to win you over, and that's cocaine. Let's hit the bathroom.

BO: No, no, Charles, I left that part of my life behind long ago, money power are my drugs nowadays, and they're more socially acceptable. But our relations with the Colombian oligarchy are good, sound, and my Attorney General--Mr. Holder--knows how to "do business" down there, if you know what I mean. [winks]

CS: [shaking violently] Gotcha. Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to hit the bathroom. You think Rahm might want to join me?

BO: Assuredly, he's from Chicago and Hollywood, hahahaha. I would never appoint anyone I couldn't blackmail right back, now would I? Let me hit my Blackberry, he'll be here in moments. We might have to open the door so that he doesn't--uh--rip it off of the hinges!

CS: Gotcha. Do you think that 9/11 was an inside job?

BO: No.

CS: Uh...shit. Alex gave me all these talking points and notes, and I...seem to have lost them, maybe left them in the rental outside. OK...uh. You think that the Bush administration perhaps was incompetent on that day?

BO: [smiling broadly] I couldn't say...does this all seem unreal to you, like we're part of some fake reality? Have you ever had that feeling? I feel it a lot lately.

CS: [shudders] Yes. My God, Mr. President, we're characters in someone's simulacrum, a phony narrative.

BO: I agree, but is it simply Alex Jones's?

CS: No, this is something more profound, perhaps cosmological. Now my head hurts after thinking and saying that, but that's a given. Man, I need a drink, a bump...

Criswell: Mr. President, I predict that you will pass a major health bill, reforming the health care system of America. But, because you lack all principles, it will flounder and you'll be forced to push for that Mars mission the last executive did once his political capital was entirely expended.

CS: AHHHH!!! Who the fuck is that, Mr. President?! Where did he come from?

BO: Haw! That's the ghost of Criswell's past, Charles. People think they're seeing the late president Lincoln, but he never slept in here. Criswell did. President Nixon was a great fan of the psychic and had him here several times, so did the Reagans.

Manly: Pssst! He's right Charlie, I know these things. You need to come in here for some more coke-sniffing, I can sense Rahm Emanuel coming.

Rahm Emanuel: OK, where's the coke and a taint to sniff it off of? Hahahaha! I kid--or do I? Mr. President, I know Charlie well from Hollywood--quite the "ladies man," although I never pay for it, I just take what I want, when I want. Know what I mean?

CS: That I do! Mr. President--about Sibel Edmonds.

BO: Yes? She gave some testimony under oath recently, in August. What does that have to do with 9/11?

CS: OK, she's talked about a lot of subjects...oh fuck it, let's go snort some coke, won't we?

RE: You're the man! Let's hit that shit! No broads, though? Well shit, Charlie, you're losing it, man. I'd order out, but the heat's on with that shit. Some of these fuck-head prosecutors actually do their jobs around the beltway, we can't be too careful. In Chicago? No problem. You see, these Republicans are too stupid to cover their tracks, so ordering out for ass is just out. Surely you could have brought some groupies, some chicks from L.A.

Shit, who cares? There are plenty of interns to fuck around here. Besides, your fuckin' father might pull another one of his legendary "interventions" on you, and we wouldn't want that, would we? We need your ass at Alex Jones's site to bad-jacket real information that makes us and the last brew culpable for...hahahaha, we won't go into it, you're too fuckin' dumb to understand anyway. [slaps me on the back soundly]

(Incredibly loud sounds of snorting emanate from the Lincoln bathroom for several minutes. I, and Mr. Emanuel emerge with cocaine peppering our respective upper-lips)

RE: Good shit Charles, we'll have to hook-you-up some time with the good shit from Chiquita, from our friends to the North in Colombia! [slaps Sheen on the back so hard he hits the floor]

CS: GASP! So, where were we Mr. President?

BO: Charles, it appears that we're running short on time, I have a country to run, kinda like a 7/11. Someone has to be manning the controls at all times. You want a Big Gulp? Hahahaha! Ahhh, you "righties" and your endless stream of non-sequiturs--but we need people like you. Who else is going to distract the rest of the country when hardly anyone buys newspapers or trusts the mainstream media anymore? I cannot even rely on it for factual information anymore, and neither can investors on Wall Street, or even foreign investors, the only thing keeping this house of cards afloat these days.

CS: Thanks--I guess--Mr. President. You sure you don't want a bump?

BO: Hahahaha, very tempting Charles, but like I said, I have a country to run, bullets to dodge, and many promises left to break. I have my work cut-out for me.

CS: Mr. President, are you trying to stonewall me and the readership of...shit, what's the name of it?

BO and RE: It's "infopwarsh," get it right.

Criswell: What's "eleventy-twelve" mean?

BO: Freedom.

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Comments

Texas Terrorist: Man, Charlie! You are true patriot, not one them socialest sissies!

LargeMardge: Spare any of that coke?

Non-sequitur Party of the Right: Man, why didn't he shoot that nigger-varmit? I was in Nam, man, I was there! What the hell is this shit about eleventy-twelve anyway, what the fuck is that--"niggerease"?

Tard Steve: I cant reat any o tis. Wil sumwun reat it 4 me.

Ted Nugent's Illegitimate Children: You tell that nigger a what for! Barack HUSSEIN O-bam-a! Yer wang dang doodlin' my country right into the ground, fucker! ...OK, my shrink has told me I need help, a lot of help and copious amounts of anti-depressants. The problem is, I don't do drugs of any kind. What do I do? Rush? Judy? Someone, turn on a spotlight now, I'm feeling randy, and he's getting pissed!

Jaenelle Antas: Springtime for Hitler? Germany? Anyone?

Bladderwarts: Clearly, the WTC could not have been taken down by human technology. This was a job by "greys," aliens. We must stop illegal aliens!!

"Lindsay Lohan to marry [DJ] girlfriend" : Homfauxsexuality?

WWWhy--Yeah, some people go a very long way to anger and embarrass their bad parents, but why not? Will it last? Of course not. Do I think Lindsay's gay? Nope. Bisexual--perhaps, but so are all of the kids these days--but not full-on gay.

Her g-fren Sam Ronson, certainly, but Lohan's sexuality is easily in-question here. A small number of people are "gay" simply because they're fucked-up.

Embarrassing, true, but it has entertainment value! Who cares? Aren't we a happy human family?

If there is a God--and I sure hope that there is--shim's got a strange and sadistic sense of humor.

And hey (Ann Heche): if I'm wrong, I wish them both well, but considering their age and occupations, we're just seeing some very public mutual-masturbation here.

By-the-way: DJs aren't musicians, they're aren't what they play. They spin wax, but they don't tend to create music unless they're a turntablist. Big-diff, but most music fans and audiences don't even know what they're watching or listening to. There are at least two-dozen garage bands called "Lindsay Lohan's Girlfriend" at this moment. We know who wears the pants in this family. I don't miss being that young, not at all.