James must Die

This is a blog dedicated to two things. One, the complete and utter annihilation of James Turner, the second is to reveal my deepest, and darkest secrets known only to myself, and a secret organization of mole people who live below the surface awaiting the day the sun is blackened and they may exact their terrible revenge on mankind.

That being said, I have a few thoughts on the current economic crisis and food shortages in the world. It’s James’ fault. The situation in Afghanistan? That’s James again. Increase in terrorist activity and nuclear armaments in totalitarian regimes? Well that’s not 100% James’ fault, it’s more like 60-40 the 60 going to Zombie Stalin and Zombie Trotsky. Who turned cats and dogs against each other? Well, that was God but I’m pretty sure he only did it to look cool in front of James. Crusifiction of Jesus, that was totally James, he always hated that guy, and what’s worse is poor Judas took the wrap. And the real reason why James is a dick is because he personally cancelled every t.v. show that got cancelled before it’s prime, that’s right you have James to thank for that one.

So today I got up and I thought to myself, “Duncan, why are you so awesome?” I had NO answer! It was like God didn’t want me to answer that because the answer would be so monumental that all other questions would be made to be stupid. Why do good people die? When’s Jesus coming back? Why is it that no one notices that Clark Kent is superman with glasses and slightly mussed hair? STUPID. No, this will shake the very foundations of the world and will make everything we think we know incorrect, and everything we fear knowing a frightening reality. I remember when I was five and growing up in the fatherland on the old Hauser potato farm, my father took me aside one day after I had successfully invaded and trampled the polish turnip farm next door, he said, “son, you’re destined for great things, you have the drive and the rougish good looks to be the next Archie Bunker.” Those words still stick with me to this day, and even though my father was high on paint fumes at the time, the thoughts behind those words still brings a tear to my eye. Anyway to make a long story less long, I need one million dollars to finish my orbital sattelite designed to zap chairs just as people are about to sit in them. I’ll make a fortune from the gag reels alone! In closing, never trust a Bolgarian who cannot say ‘vessels’ properly, he’s most likely armed with a carrot.