Stoogepie Bank: Open for Business

When I was just a wee stoogepie, my daddy used to say, “Son, every great crisis presents a great opportunity.” Then he would create a crisis of some kind.

So, I have given a lot of thought to this whole global financial crisis. Where is the great opportunity?

Yeah, the financial crisis gave the nation as a whole the balls to elect a black president, and that’s something to be proud of. And it may yet give the nation the hair on those balls to institute a truly massive national stimulus that, while it would be nearly impossible to beat Roosevelt’s New Deal, could come close. Trillions of dollars may go toward making this nation’s middle class prosper and once again control America’s vast wealth. We’ll have to wait and see on that one. The stimulus package already approved by Congress is only a drop in the bucket, though. It doesn’t even yet include a bailout of banks.

All this is fine. But meanwhile, I have been asking myself, how can I, stoogepie, make billions off of this world economic crisis?

American Express provided the answer. See, in November, American Express, which is a credit card company and not a bank, decided that it would declare itself a bank. It did. Then it applied for and received $3.39 billion in bailout money. The CIT Group, a commercial lender that offers no traditional bank services and no consumer services, did the same thing. It declared itself a bank and then got $2.33 billion in bailout money. Both companies became banks just to take advantage of the bailout.

And so it occurred to me, why not open a bank? I mean, the final bill for bailing out America’s banks is very likely to be a couple of trillion bucks. I want some of that. Don’t you want some of that?

So, welcome to stoogepie Bank. You can view the mockup of the full stoogepie Bank website here. None of it works yet and, hopefully, the bank will be belly up before I ever finish designing the website.

Here is how it works: you send stoogepie Bank your money and I lose it all making incredibly bad investments, just like a real financial mogul. I will even make shoddy investments such as lending your money back to you so that you can buy houses and fancy shoes. Need a student loan or a credit card? Well, stoogepie Bank will give you both. And, instead of asking you to pay back your loans with money, stoogepie Bank will accept sex. Until the bailout money comes. Then we’ll all head to our own luxury retreat.

See, it’s incredibly easy to start a bank. Here in New York, for instance, all you need is $7-10 million in start-up capital. Then you pay a $12,500 fee and you have a bank. Okay, you also need to fill out a 54-page application, but most of that application is composed of instructions, like a for-dummies guide to opening a bank. In California, it’s more complicated to figure out the fees because you have to pay an assessment of your bank’s total assets and, to start a bank, you must have a minimum of $6-10 million in start-up capital. With $10 million, your fee for starting a bank would be $14,417 this year. You pay that and fill out a one-page form, and you’ve got yourself a bank! All of a sudden, you are eligible for bailout money!

Now, I don’t know about you, but I want some bailout money. See, I’m all for helping out people in need, but I kind of have a problem with helping out people who are just stoopid or dishonest. Like the bankers who lost all that money and then got massive bonuses with the bailout money. Or the many people who lied on mortgage applications they knew they could never afford. Let’s face it: not only the lenders and appraisers and mortgage brokers were dishonest. Borrowers frequently lied on their applications, too. In fact, according to one survey, as many as 70% of the people defaulting on their mortgages lied on their mortgage applications, many lying about their income by multiplying it by as much five and others forging documents using their computers.

But more and more, I wonder whether I am just the fool. Were all those cheats the smart ones? While I was busy just going to work every day and putting off buying a brand new stoogepen until the market softened, they were getting cheap loans and big bonuses and riding the wave of plenty. And, now, when the bailout comes, I wind up with fucking diddly. They all get bailed out, and I get passed by.

Well, no fucking way! Give me my fucking share of the bailout money. They are giving away trillions! Trillions!

And, since I know that people who read my blog are uncommonly responsible and honest, none of you are probably getting shit out of this bailout, either. So, put all your money in stoogepie Bank! Get StoogeBling® and borrow your money and more back! Then, when I get a fat check from the bailout, I’ll send you your share.

I did my taxes recently. They are not finished yet but I owe a bundle of money again, in part because 2008 was not all that bad a year for me in spite of all the doom and gloom. But some of my tax money is going to wind up in irresponsible people’s pockets. Oh, sure, some of it will go to people who lost their jobs for no reason at all and some will go to people who are losing their homes although they did everything responsible and sensibly. A lot of it is going to the good, honest, hardworking people of this country I admire so much because I am nothing like them and wonder sometimes whether they even exist.

But none of my tax money is coming back to me.

Well, that’s fucking bullshit.

So, please, send me your money. I promise that I can be wildly irresponsible and I will lose much, much more money than you send me. And then, when I get my $25 billion like Wells Fargo got, we can all split it. Well, maybe like Wells Fargo, I will buy up another bank with about half of that money to get myself a tax break.

We’ll split what’s left over after I buy a bank. Don’t get fucking greedy.

Of course, I will have to be compensated as president of the bank. Unfortunately, thanks to Obama, I won’t be able to get the kind of pay that Goldman Sachs executives got with their bailout money. Before Obama took office, as part of the Bush bailout, the top five executives at Goldman Sachs were paid $242 million altogether for their fine work bankrupting the company so it needed to be bailed out. Now, under Obama, I will only be able to get up to $500,000 per year plus stock options that can only be used after the bailout money is paid back. Since I never intend to pay my bailout money back, that means I can only make half a mil. That’s practically fucking charity, people, because I will lose money better and faster than any of those fucktards at Goldman Sachs or Citicorp or AIG or Capital One did.

There is the small chance that the US will nationalize all the banks, and that would completely destroy my plan to get bailout money. But Obama has tried to dispel those nationalization rumors—without actually ruling that option entirely out—by citing his administration’s preference for a sound privately owned banking system. Yeah, I want that, too. As long as I get some fucking bailout money. Now, give me my fucking money.

Anyways, all I’m saying is, send stoogepie Bank all your money. I will invest it unwisely and lose it all. I promise! I will lend it back to you to buy whatever the fuck you want with nothing but your lies and promises as collateral. And you can pay your loans back with blowjobs and rimjobs until the bailout money comes. And then you’ll get your share.

So, anyway, aside from my announcement of stoogepie Bank, I do need to tell you all that there have been not one but two deaths in the stoogepie family in the past week, including my grandma. So, that pretty much leaves just me and mum still alive in the United States. When people die, they leave a lot of baggage behind that has to be taken care of, including funeral arrangements and will readings and unpaid taxes and such that I now have the pleasure of keeping on top of, so I may appear even more out of touch than usual for the next week or so. But I’m fine, as usual.

So that I could deliver the sermons, stoogepie became an ordained minister at the Universal Life Church Monastery, which claims to have ordained over twenty million people since 1959. You can become an ordained minister online, too! It takes ten minutes! Then you can order your Ministry-in-a-Box like I did so you, too, can buy your friends and family members a ticket to Marble City in your own personal style.

For the low additional price of $29.99, you can also receive the honorary degree Doctor of Divinity or Doctor of Metaphysics. And for only $11.99 per title, you can be proclaimed a saint or even be proclaimed the pope. I paid for a lot of these, so please call me Dr. Saint Stoogepie from now on. I don’t want to be pope. I don’t do headgear.

That’s all I have to say about that. But don’t forget to send me all your money.

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Christmas Toys for Twats

I know that some people like this holiday season. And I love bullshit as much as anyone. But seriously, I had a gift to get and stopped in Saks in midtown yesterday. And, shit. The place was packed full of shoppers with vacant eyes like chickens on the conveyor belt at Perdue. Everyone looked like they had entered the store starving and maybe Saks had hidden a sandwich in a gaudy purse or a fragrance gift pack.

Also, it was way too crowded to enjoy shoplifting. Really. It felt like work.

So, as much as I adore bullshit, I am not a big fan of these holidays.

Still, I can write about the holidays. In fact, I hardly know where to start. Should I tell you about the parts of It’s A Wonderful Life that give me a raging hard-on? Or how hanging mistletoe from my belt buckle is finally starting to get old? Or how putting a wreath around your dick sounds like a very festive thing to do until those little pine needles start to sting?

Well, I guess I should tell you that I do not have a traditional Christmas tree at all. I did, however, design this Christmas buttplug that I think is very cheerful and that I hope to stuff up some lucky woman’s ass early Christmas morning while carolers sing far below the stoogepen.

But really, Christmas is not about me. Christmas is all about the kids. It’s the children that make Christmas what it is. Really, Santa Claus doesn’t have a goddamn thing to do with Jesus. Neither does Rudolph the Alcoholic Reindeer or Frosty the Cokeman. All of those things are for kids. Children love dysfunctional claymation creations and they love presents. Mostly, they love presents. That’s what Christmas is really all about: bling. Toys. Shit.

For the last few years, I have donated toys to a charity for kids. It’s called Toys for Twats™. See, more and more, kids toys are realistic. They celebrate the real world, a world of sex and terrorists and death. Not just videogames, but all toys. Toys for Twats™ gives toys to boys and girls and, for years, I have made my own toys and also purchased toys for this worthwhile charity.

So, here are just a few of my favorite Toys for Twats™ toys from over the years.

Horror Barbie

Recently, I saw this Barbie doll.

This is Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘The Birds’ Barbie® Doll. This Barbie is in the process of getting pecked to death by birds. That’s right. Barbie takes on a horror role and is being attacked by clawing, eye-pecking, flesh ripping birds. This may be the most awesome Barbie yet!

I hope this is a theme. I hope Barbie does all the great horror films. In case Mattel is looking for any ideas, I suggest Cannibal Holocaust for their next horror film tie-in. I think kids would find that a lot more exciting than The Birds. I mean, The Birds is pretty fucking old and is in black and white, you know? Cannibal Holocaust is pretty old but not quite as old, and at least it is in color.

Of course, you’ll have to supply your own blood.

Stuffed Things

Kids like stuffed shit. I have never understood this. What the fuck is so good about a stuffed thing? Even if it looks like a bear or whatever, it is just a fucking pillow. If you give a kid a pillow, he would look at you like you were out of your fucking mind. But give him a pillow that looks remotely like a dinosaur, and he will carry it with him to his first fucking job interview. Dude, that’s a fucking pillow!

Anyways, I couldn’t see the fascination with pillows, but here is one that caught my attention.

This is the Snugglers for Girls Cinderella. Notice the giant condom-covered cocks in the background with the purple reservoir tips? See, now this is a pillow I think teaches kids something. Safe sex is important.

Anyways, I have made some stuffed pillow-like shit to give to kids, too. And I think my stuffed shit also teaches all sorts of valuable lessons.

And, yes, in case you were wondering, the clit squeaks when you squeeze it.

Dick in the Box

Boys love to play with their own dicks. And this is one of those things that a boy never outgrows.

So, I guess this toy doesn’t really make all that much sense. I guess if I’m ever too old to play with my own dick, I would want a toy dick. And girls don’t have dicks, so this toy might make sense for them. And gay boys might enjoy this toy as well. Oh, who am I kidding. Dicks are just fun. Period. That’s why we tell so many dick jokes. Dicks are just a barrel of laughs. Who needs babies? Dicks are bundles of joy.

But, you know, if you already have a baby or something, here is a dick toy it can play with.

Merry Whatever-the-Fuck-You-Celebrate

Maybe I’ll post something else before Christmas, but the chances are slim. So Merry Fucking Christmas just in case. I know that all of you do not celebrate White Christmas, so Happy Jewish Christmas or Black Christmas or Arab Christmas or whatever the fuck bullshit Christmas you celebrate. And Happy New Year, even though I know some of you have your own goddamn New Year, too.

Oh, this is also the last Christmas that George Bush will be president and Dick Cheney will be Vice President. So, a very special very White Merry Christmas to them. For all they have done for us, I made a very special Christmas tree for them.

That’s all I have to say about Christmas unless I decide to post more toys or something. Who knows, right? In the meantime, if you’re looking to stuff a holiday buttplug up your ass, drop me a line.

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Modern War Toys™

My long break is drawing to a close.  I will be away all the rest of the week and won’t be able to comment or post.  After that, I will resume my non-summer posting schedule.  It’s been a long summer with a lot going on.

I really need to clean up the stoogepen and, in fact, I started doing a little cleaning earlier this week.  I found all sorts of shit I haven’t seen in forever.  These include school books — which I really should sell before they are out of date — and comic books and toys.  Yes, toys.  Not the toys I have bought since I became an adult — my Adult Toys — like the PS3.  No, the toys I had when I was a kid.

I had a big collection of action figures and other stuff, like war toys.  You know, those green little plastic war toys that come in bags of like a billion.  They always look like this:

These toys were awesome when I was a kid.  I had wars with infantrymen and snipers and tanks and enemies.  I killed entire armies.

But these toys don’t cut it anymore, now do they?  I mean, war has changed.  It’s not about guns and bullets anymore.  War is more subtle than that today.  So, I’ve been thinking that we should update our war toys.  That’s why I have designed Modern War Toys™.

First of all, we are now liberators!  We liberate people.  We have liberated the good people of Iraq.  Now they are free.  Before we went to Iraq, they lived under the brutal dictatorship of Saddam Hussein.  Of course, we installed Saddam as dictator and supported him, and we encouraged him to go to war with Iran.  But that’s water under the bridge.

Still, liberty is not free.  It comes with a price.  Yeah, Saddam Hussein didn’t support terrorism.  And maybe he was a secular leader who supported religious freedom.  In fact, the only synagogue in Iraq — a protected and open Jewish place of worship — and a few dozen Christian churches have been bombed since we invaded, and more Iraqis die violent deaths each day now than did under Saddam’s rule.  Big deal.  Freedom is good.

So, I propose a war toy that celebrates liberation.  Something like this:

Go freedom!  Go USA!

War has changed in other subtle ways as well.  Who would have guessed that eavesdropping on millions of American citizens and reading their emails would be part of the war we are in right now?  But, this is a subtle war that we must win.

I also think we need a war toy that celebrates the fact that, in this war, we have all sorts of wonderful new tactics that we did not employ when I was a kid.  Like outting CIA agents.  And labeling people Enemy Combatants, which entitles us to imprison them forever without a trial or due process.  But my favorite has to be the fact that now we “disappear” people.  That’s right.  We kidnap them and maybe they wind up at Guantanamo Bay or maybe they don’t.  We’re not entitled to know who is at Guantanamo Bay or how they are treated, so we can’t tell what happens to the disappeared people, but what an awesome toy this makes!

Oh, and we waterboard people!  Excellent!  How cool is that?  Maybe it’s not quite torture, but it still makes for a sweet toy!

It’s good to know that Americans don’t torture anyone.  But that doesn’t mean we don’t have a sense of humor!  Who could forget Abu Ghraib, huh?  Now, that’s an excellent toy, and funny, too!

Of course, not everyone is happy.  Some people just like to gripe.  Like the fuckers who complain because we aren’t giving the soldiers any armor.  And then they complain because the same people who support this war have vetoed legislation that would bring the GI Bill into the Twenty-First Century so that it actually provided veterans with an edumacation.  Then they go on to complain because, after the soldiers get injured because their Humvees and helmets and flak jackets have no armor, they are denied medical care.  What a bunch of whiners!  Still, just to appease these pussies, maybe we should throw in a few toys that reflect soldiers’ injuries or veterans’ rights and welfare or something.

You know, not everyone is complaining.  Contractors like Halliburton aren’t complaining.  Yeah, it’s true that Vice President Cheney continues even today to profit from Halliburton and it’s true that that Halliburton got a multi-billion dollar no-bid contract.  They aren’t the big winners.  The real winners are the oil companies.

When Bush entered office, oil was $18 per barrel.  In January of 2001, when Bush was sworn in as president, the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development predicted that, due to limited supply and rising demand, the price of oil would reach $28 per barrel in 2020.  How is that for funny!  Anyways, ExxonMobil posted record profits in February of 2008, with twenty to thirty percent of that profit coming directly from the war in Iraq.  ExxonMobil’s sales for the year before exceeded the gross domestic product of 120 nations.  That makes for one happy war toy!

Of course, things aren’t so great at home for all of us.  What with rising gas and food prices, record numbers of mortgage foreclosures, New Orleans still not safe after Hurricane Katrina, billions of dollars simply missing in Iraq, and a massive deficit that will make your children pay for this war.  So, Americans, you deserve some credit.  You saw all of this happening, and you reelected the people responsible.  In part, because your pastor told you to.  Good for you!  For your faith and inaction, you deserve your own war toy.

Now, I’m ready to start selling these toys but I have to make them by hand at first, so they will be kind of expensive.  Like, about ten bucks each.  But here is the deal.  If you buy all nine war toys for the introductory high price of $90 plus $10 shipping and handling, I will throw in a WMD war toy and an Osama bin Laden war toy — both pictured below — ABSOLUTELY FREE!

Also, if you can think of any other Modern War Toys™ I have forgotten to include, let me know.  But don’t expect a share of the profits.

That’s all I have to say about Modern War Toys™.  See you in a week or so.

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Vadgets™ and Bumballs™

Yeah, I haven’t been posting enough.  Well, I’ve gotten really busy with a project that has nothing at all to do with this blog.  And, aside from that, it’s the summer.  You may be so old that summer doesn’t mean you spend a lot more time outdoors, but I’m not.

So, my big project ends at the end of August, then I go away for a week.  And summer will be all over then.  Normal posting schedules will resume.

Anyways, I have an awesome new invention to share with you.

What better way to propose than to stick a ring up your ass and let her dig it out, huh?  How could she say no?

That’s all I have to say about Vadgets™ and Bumballs™ except that, until Vadgets™ and Bumballs™ are widely available, feel free to stick things up your ass the old fashioned way.

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Vote With Your Ass!

Some people have asked me why I write this blog.  I want to explain. 

I write this blog for the same reason that I have done amateur stand-up for much of my adult life.  I write this blog for the same reason that I have gotten up early every morning to write my thoughts and ideas for years.  I write this blog for the same reason I have quietly studied illustrating for the past several years.  I write this blog for the same reason that I have dabbled in Flash and Maya 3D software to explore their usefulness in making good comics.  In short, I write this blog for the very same reason I breathe.  Because I am insane.

This brings us to an important point.  In addition to my other whorish behaviors that are far too numerous to list, I am an attention whore.

I think that all people who write blogs are attention whores.  All writers are attention whores.  All artists and actors and newscasters and weathermen and talk-show hosts and poets: attention whores.  Okay, maybe not the poets.  They are something else.

Some bloggers also have delusional ideas that they will make a shitload of money off their website.  Now, I know that a few people who write very popular blogs make money with their blogs.  According to some sources, Dooce generates $40,000 a month.  $40,000!  A month!  And dooce.com fucking sucks ass!  That is one expensive goddamn rim job.  You’re pissed because Elliot Spitzer got laid for $5,000 when Dooce’s Heather Armstrong is getting forty grand a month serving up her kid to baby junkies?

But I digress.  This blog, and just about every other blog out there, will never turn a real profit.  Even if they do generate a profit, they will never get anywhere near that Dooce level of cash.  Why?  Well, maybe because we suck even more than Dooce.  Or maybe because we lack the skills required to profitably whore ourselves and our children for more than mere attention.  Whatever.

Anyway, I want to whore myself to all of you and do whatever it takes to bring people to this blog, but I’m also lazy and disinterested.  Mostly lazy. 

But did I mention that I also want your money?  Well, yes, I want your money.  All of it.  I am willing to kill you to get your money, but wouldn’t it be more pleasant for everyone concerned if you just sent it to me?  Of course it would.

So, I have been looking into what it takes to get your money without killing you. 

Step one, no matter what, is to attract more readers.  I need to attract readers so that I can have you give me all your money, or so that I can kill you and steal all your money.  Just so you understand how this works, I am also working on a plan that might have you all commit suicide, and then I somehow get your money.  I haven’t worked out all the kinks in that plan yet, though.

Anyway, I have read a lot of shit on the internet about attracting more readers, but it all takes too much work.  For instance, one piece of advice is that I should write things that you want to read.  What kind of advice is that?  If you people don’t want to read about the things that I like to write about, then fuck you!  I want to write about feet with pussies in the soles, and dickmail, and fucking cars.  If that’s not what you feel like reading about, what the fuck is wrong with you?  Who are you people?

If you don’t think this is awesome, there is nothing I can do for you.

Now, a friend told me that I should make up a banner ad for MySpace and other social networking sites.  So, with a little help, I did.

Making that banner ad took a few days but it was a ton of fucking fun.  If you want to put my banner ad on your website to help get this whole thing going, email me and I will send you the secret code.  In exchange, I don’t mind helping you to make a similar banner ad for your website, but you will need to supply me with a naked chick.

That’s it for marketing the site.  I’m done.  I don’t have time for this bullshit.

As far as making money from all of you, people have a lot of ideas about that.  First there are ads.  You will notice that I have two underutilized highly profitable sidebars to the right.  Make me an offer.

Some people instead ask readers to donate money to the website.  What the fuck is that all about?  What am I, the March of Fucking Dimes?  I ain’t no stinking charity. 

Another idea is that, instead of asking you to donate cash, I should ask you to buy me something, like a beer or a cup of coffee.  Here is one of these coffee appeals that I stole from another website.

That’s really just asking a different way for you to donate, except that I would ask you to donate two bucks.  But you know what?  I can buy my own fucking coffee.  I mean, if I could get a million people to come to this site and buy me a cup a coffee, I would get $2 million, and that’s sweet enough.  But what are the fucking chances?

Instead of the stupid coffee thing, I have considered this:

Let me know whether you would donate to buy me a whore.  That would work for me.  If so, I will put up a permanent ad.  A very nasty whore is going to cost a fucking bundle, but I would give you all the disgusting details.

The problem is that people don’t want to buy someone else anything.  People don’t mind buying themselves something, but why the fuck would you buy anything for me?  So I need to sell something that you want.

Well, being the creative, inventive dude that I am, I came upon what I think is the perfect plan.  This is my brilliant invention number two, and it just so happens that it has a lot to do with number two.

It occurred to me that a lot of you buy buttplugs, as demonstrated by the Pigtail and Baby Jesus buttplugs about which I have already written.  The question was, how could I capitalize on the fact that you like to stick things up your ass while also being topical?  My answer: electoral buttplugs!

These buttplugs speak for themselves.  My work here is done.  Now send me your money.

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