Mac's Articles

2 total in May 2007
  • Myth: SuperAIDS is a kick ass form of regular AIDS.
     
    Truth: In reality, SuperAIDS has little to do with regular AIDS. While regular AIDS slowly degrades the immune system slowly turning the body into a disease punching bag, SuperAIDS immediately renders the victim stupid and slightly resembling Tom Hank’s left nad. The host then proceeds to pour a glowing greenish fluid of a Jell-O-like consistency from every orifice. Granted no two cases are exactly alike, most victims typically explode into moonbeams and a thousand tiny eggs from which midgets are born.
     
    Myth: You can only catch SuperAIDS from a previously infected person.
     
    Truth:  SuperAIDS is the single most efficient pathogen known to man. It can infect anyone, anywhere, anytime. Not unlike a ninja, it sneaks up on unsuspecting carriers and promptly judo chops them in the goblet (it exists, don’t question me). For the most part however, people enjoy passing out SuperAIDS to those they find annoying or below their comic understanding. For example--> Jim: F1R5T!! Greg: Great you figured out how to count, congrats, you now have super aids.
     
    Myth: SuperAIDS mutated from AIDS sometime in the late 90’s.
     
    Truth: Although little is known of the actual origin of SuperAIDS, many anthropologists and ridiculously high Cocoa Puffs enthusiasts believe to have traced its ectoplasm trail back to a rough night between Michael Jackson and a weed-whacker shortly before the invention of the microwave.
     
    So what have we learned? SuperAIDS is perhaps the only disease on this planet readily passed and willingly contracted without consideration of cultural consequence and moral ineptitude, except Pokemon cards. Thus, I call on you, the helpless reader to embrace your shattered innocence and go forth and tastefully tag as many noobs, dumbasses, and character commenters as you can. Because frankly, the world could use more midgets to attack Dennis Rodman’s kneecaps and I just hit you with the greatest gift your ass will ever receive. Congratulations, you now have SuperAIDS. 


  • The following is the last known correspondance between Tom Cat and Jerry Mouse before the infamous Looney Tunes Massacre of '67

    Dear Jerry,
     
    C’mon man. I mean, I know all the kids love your cute smile and heart-warming little tricks while I chase you around the house and whatever, but I really want to sit down with you and have a real heart to heart about our relationship. We can’t keep playing with our emotions like this forever you know? Drop me a line sometime and we’ll talk.
     
    Yours truly,
    Tom
     
    Dear Tom,
     
    You’re joking right? All you’ve ever wanted from us was to run me down as fast and hard as you could and take the occasional beating. It’s cool that you’re into all the S&M but it’s starting to freak me out. I’ve blown your face off one too many times, come close to dying four times now and I still don’t know what happened to Nibbles after “Two Mouseketeers.” I think we should call the whole thing off.
     
    Jerry
     
    Dear Jerry,
     
    I can stop. Really I can. Look we’ve worked through this before. I’ve gotten off the catnip, and I’m working with this guy from Looney Toons, said he went through the exact same thing with some bird he saw for a while. I need you Jerry. Barbera’s breathing down my neck, and no one will take me for any new roles. Violent tendencies or some bullshit like that they say. 
     
    Tom
     
    For fuck-sake Tom, you talked to Wile E.? Do you have a cell left between what’s left of your ears? That sick bastard was in with Acme and God knows what kind of shit they’re cranking out these days. He got hooked on that shit and look where it got him. That dumbass couldn’t even fall without looking like a special-ed reject.  Look, I’m with Sylvester now and if you so much as fart within 800 feet of me again I swear I’ll call some REALLY messed guys that’ll bring you a whole new world of hurt. 
     
     
     Shitface,
     
    You two-timing ungrateful little slut. If it weren’t for me you would be dry humping some dirty rat whore in the rotted out motel you called home. I made you. You didn’t even want the MGM deal. No, you said you couldn’t take all the cameras and popularity. Whiney little… Oh and your “boy” Fudd won’t be around to suck you off anymore. That’s right cum junkie, this pussy’s got claws and I know right where to squeeze. Don’t think that weak excuse for a pimp can keep you safe from me. I will hunt you and all the rest of your knob gobbling Tune friends right down to that chubby retard that can’t even finish a damn sentence. A thethe the uh thethe the, well That’s All Bitch.
     

     



     


     



     




     


     


     


     


     


     

     


     




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