A Vote for Fuck Trees Johnson is a Vote for No Fuckin Trees
My name is Fuck Trees Johnson, I'm rich as hell, and I hate trees. They're breathing all our oxygen, and I want them all dead!
My name is Fuck Trees Johnson, I'm rich as hell, and I hate trees. They're breathing all our oxygen, and I want them all dead!
The world is nowhere near as bad as everyone says it is. It can't be, otherwise we would all have exploded by now. Here's a bunch of awesome shit happening.
As I stood in the woods digging the hole to bury the old man, I realized he wasn't quite dead. And that's when he told me a story of Christmas I'll never forget.
The arch nemesis of this war chronicle is the Brown Marmorated Stink Bug, something that looks like it crawled/flew right out of the Jurassic Period.
One of my biggest nemeses in the insect world is the cave cricket, something that quite literally crawled its way out from the depths of the underworld.
What do you do if you just happen to find yourself in the middle of the Sahara Desert? Commercial airlines don't fly over the Sahara, as far as I know.
Even if you're like, totally fucked up and in a wheelchair, you can still garden, okay? Millions of disabled people assume they can't, though.
What Al Gore failed to mention was all the benefits of rising temperatures. Naked women, penguin slaves? I'm warming up to the idea already.
Those damn hippies are still at it. Fortunately, they also pay enough to convince college kids to sell anyone on the woes of the environment.
Last night, parts of Tampa received below-freezing temperatures. I don't know exactly what this means for us.