God Damnit....

Hey folks.  Count Dread, here.  Remember me?  If you don't, you can take a refresher by reading my review of crap-book "Twilight" here on Charles' blog.

So this bastard Charles is screwin' everything up again.  He calls me yesterday and says something to the effect of "hey Dread, I'm really struggling to get all of this school work done and to keep caught up with my pleasure reading and with cleaning out the cat box, and I have a really bad cold, so I was hoping you could write up a little blog for me...?"

What a loser.  I told him "screw you, brother!"

But Charles is a sheisty prick, and he has access to some photos of me that, frankly, I would do just about anything to keep private.  So I decided that the prudent thing to do would be to lend my helping hand once more to this arrogant, day walking, undead jerk.  Don't forget, Charles is undead, just like me.  But that shouldn't give him an excuse to not be able to write a blog.

A few days prior to his phone call he sent me this image via e-mail:

He said "LOOK!  I have 800 readers!"

Well la-dee-fuckin'-da!  You don't have time to write anything for those readers to read anyway!  So what the hell does it matter?!  What a putz.  Sometimes he acts like being undead is some prohibitive handicap, too.  Like being a day-walking vampire stops him from acting civil, writing a blog once in a while, or showering.  But it doesn't have to be that way.  Most undead lead very productive lives.  Some of us immortal undead lead VERY successful lives as totalitarian whack-jobs.  These people just have that certain drive, you know?  Take Nancy Pelosi, for instance.  I dug up this photo of her from my archives to demonstrate that some undead individuals were telling the world what was good for it decades ago, and still have the stamina to do it consistently today.

Pelosi's friend and part-time lover Stalin LOL'd when she said: "we have to impose the bill on you before you can find out what's in the bill, you poor fuckers!"

So the point is this: Charles is still a butt-sniffer and a whiny bitch.  And I need to help him wrap up this blog duel he has gotten himself into.  If you aren't aware of the blog duel, check his entry immediately prior to this one to get the low down on that.

There were some good suggestions for blog duel rules, including Merlin's "shit in a box and mail it to Doug."  I personally have a lot of free time on my hands, and find myself mailing my feces to people all across the globe just for fun.  It is a great way to settle a dispute.  So good on Merlin for that.

Other concerns with the suggestions included "the poop eater's": "You two homos should hold each others hands and do other homo stuff."  Poop eater, I discussed this with Charles, and he is inclined to agree with me when I say that, here at In Review, we refrain from using the word "homo" as a derogatory term.  Because we live in 2010.  And "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" is out the window.  So get with the program and call Charles a dirty anal fissure or a giraffe herpe or, if you want to get real ugly, call him a W. Bush voter, but no more of the anti-gay talk from you.  Or I will drink your blood.

After some deliberation, Charles and Doug have agreed to duel by submitting three funny photos of themselves for the other to turn into a little internet comic.  Whoever draws the funniest comic, by reader vote in Doug's comment section, will win.  Doug and Charles have both spoken to their significant others (Charles' girlfriend, and Doug's wife) and the ladies have agreed to kick the loser in the nuts.  Lets hope that Charles loses this duel so that Jera will kick him in the nuts.  And lets hope she kicks hard.  It may be the only way this jagoff will learn.  So without further ado, here are the photos for the competition:

Man, I can't for the life (er, un-life) of me figure out why you guys read anything this dumb ass has to say.

Charles had previously compared this blog duel to the Hamilton v. Burr duel, and he claimed that he would play the role of Burr to Doug's Hamilton.  But judging by the way Charles has been dragging his feet, he must have some revisionist view of history in which Burr never showed up and Hamilton won by default.  

All I am saying is that Burr didn't miss the duel because of a little nose-sniffin' cold.  And since when does a cold preclude someone from writing a blog for almost two weeks straight?!?  

I'm even going to go to the trouble of updating the current book and music indicator on the side bar of this blog for Charles.  For all of my trouble, this pseudo-intellectual collar popping prick better damn well burn those pictures of me and Angela Lansbury.  

Damnit!  I've said too much.

Love.