It’s time we had a shouting match. It’s time someone addressed you in exactly the same way you address everyone else. I’m here to scream “fuck you!”

FUCK. YOU. TEABAGGERS!

Here’s a newsflash for you teabaggers. The government doesn’t like you, either. Yeah, that’s right. The government doesn’t like you. And it doesn’t trust you, either, you sheepish Rethuglicans with your visions of a fascist theocratic state. Another newsflash: the government has never liked or trusted you. In fact, we all despise you. We laugh at you. Listen to this: ha ha ha.

Wait, there’s more.

Because, for much of the world, today is a big-assed holiday, it’s time for another Great Story of the Bible. But this time, I’m going to take my great story from the New Testament.

I was busy getting into trouble. Did you ever do something and, even as you begin, you think that nothing good can come of it? Kind of sort of a little like this.

Here is my post-Xmas comic. It doesn’t really have a title. I was going to call it, “Santa Gets His Groove On.” But that sucks. So, let’s just call it, “Stoogepie’s Post-Fucking-Xmas Comic.” Merry Post-Fucking-Xmas.

It’s true that most non-porn chicks do not seem to like porn.  And by “porn,” I mean the porn that dudes like: dude porn.  As an example, if I wanted to create an awesome porn movie for dudes, I might hire, say, four hot sluts and fifty whatever dudes.  I might tell the sluts to skip the obligatory colon-cleaning enema before the shoot, and I would have the fifty dudes fuck the four women up the ass.  I would call this epic Shitty Shitty Ass Bang.  Voila!  Instant bestselling porn classic.

Well, I am straying from those topics this time. I am going to share with you the sad tale of the Ninja Rape Gang. Gang-raping ninjas won’t get me any fucking hits, but I have to tell this story because it is based upon a true story I made up a few weeks ago when I was so drunk that even cake couldn’t give me a hard-on. But this story did. I mean, this story plus cake.

But I won’t dwell on all of that.  So here is a cartoon about death.

I lost a fucking credit card a few weeks ago. Maybe I left it at a bakery in the West Village when I made a pretty goddamn large baked goods purchase. I don’t fucking know. I went back to that bakery but I didn’t even ask the baker chicks about the credit card. I just bought some more cake and left.

If you wrote me an email, it might have had a subject something like this: “It has been a long time since you posted.”  I did not respond.  Here is my response:  Oh, fucking really?