Showing posts with label Charlie Sheen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Charlie Sheen. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Alex Jones has been backpeddling about Charlie Sheen this week by taking a vow of silence (please extend it to all utterances)...


WWW--Yesterday, syndicated conspiracy nut radio jock Alex Jones [GASP!] was making some really baseless about the also completely wacko Charlie Sheen being "innocent" when it's pretty clear that something's incredibly amiss about this recent incident with his new wife, the fact that they were both dangerously drunk, and that he was definitely wielding a knife yelling, "I'm going to kill you!" at her and had to be restrained by others. The 911 call is online and on television today, it's everywhere, and it gives a new layer of meaning to "911" once again since Jones has been fobbing the always-intoxicated Sheen as a "truther," meaning someone who thinks the WTC was felled by alien technology...

Let's not forget that Sheen has a very prolonged history of sexual and substance-addictions and has even had to come under intervention from his poor family, poor Martin Sheen, a man who I assume is very ashamed of his son right now. Jones certainly knew about Sheen's problems before becoming associated with him., something we can safely presume that he did to suck-off some of the troubled star's fame to bolster site hits and merch sales on his constellation of websites and other media. In other words, the mugs, t-shirts, poorly produced DVD documentaries, and crypto-racist posters and shirts of the current president, weren't selling briskly enough to keep the new Father Coughlin afloat in the kind of luxury he's been used to. He has a lot of mouths to feed, and besides, he's fat.

But yesterday, Jones was trying to "minimize" the damage against Sheen without much basis or luck. Not that that's anything new, but today...nothing, nada, he's moved on from the subject with nary-a-comment of explanation. There's an pretty obvious reason for this silence having to do with sticking one's foot in one's mouth: Expect Sheen to become so radioactive--as radioactive as Fatty Arbuckle or D.C. Stephenson--that Jones stops talking about the movie star almost entirely, if not altogether. Why did Jones ever want an association with Sheen? That's obvious. Charlie Sheen's famous and it props-up Jones's own absurd conservative, anti-government line that's mistaken as genuinely progressive and populist, it "mainstreams" him, a trick possibly learned from Ron Paul. He's not "mainstream," he's a far-right demagogue who's been given too much rope, but with some luck, he's going to hang himself with it before long.

So, what happened between yesterday and today? The dumbass (who has more-than-adequate resources to discover the truth) probably actually read the Colorado police reports or had someone like Kurt Nimmo hand him copies of the reports out of concern, and he stopped talking about it altogether today. Wise move, but the statements stand and were heard. Note that the facts have never stood in the way of Alex Jones and that there was never an objective truth he wasn't willing to avoid or to accuse of being part of "the conspiracy." He and Kurt Nimmo had no problem whatsoever in claiming that the DC Madam was "suicided" by imaginary government operatives when there was and is no evidence whatsoever to conclude it.
Reportedly, in March of this year, Jones fired erstwhile compatriot and shill, Jeff Rense, one of the other twits peddling this hollow meme that also fosters the impression of an ubiquitous police state (something supporters of one would want out there) while at the same time reviling it, a neat trick.

The objective truth never stopped him from yelling the sky was falling in the run-up to Y2K, so to keep listening to him and thinking he has a shred of credibility because he's singing your tune is simply intellectually dishonest, a lie to oneself, that deepest-of-cuts. The late (Milton) William Cooper--author of Behold a Pale Horse--even saw Jones as a fraud and a liar, as he would have known having beheld one in the mirror the majority of his short life. A wolf knows a wolf. I have to assume that the radio show's site has the show archived from yesterday, so hit it, I'm not going to listen that crap, it's infotainment for the terminally paranoid bigot (including people with a predisposition for psychosis who smoked too much pot, took one-too-many hits of LSD).

The dead speak, again and again, accusing the living, even when they were the same kind of fraud--especially because they were the same kind of a fraud. Jones could be caught in lies and mistakes forever and his moronic crowd would keep believing, like the flock led by another man with the same last name...

Behold, the persistence of stupidity: flogging a stale horse.

Listen, at your own peril: http://www.thealexjonesshow.com/listen.html

(Milton) William Cooper disussing Jones's December 31st, 1999 Y2K sham: http://www.archive.org/details/WilliamCooperDiscussesAlexJonesY2kHoax


"Twenty lines with the President," a fictional fiction, fictionally, by Charlie Sheen:

Friday, September 18, 2009

"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."

______________________________________________________________________

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!!