Comfortable and Furious

I Am Your Crazy Facebook Friend: Israel / Palestine Edition.

bortfartfield crazy facebook friend

I’m your Christian-Patriot Facebook Friend. Let me tell you a few things about myself: I’m equipped with the fiery hypocro-spite of a thousand fatso-warriors. I can criticize the poor with three chocolate chip cookies in my mouth. I wear my terminator sunglasses at night and stare down immigrant teens selling oranges by the freeway. And if I see anyone whip out an EBT card while holding an iPhone, it’s going to be a long night in the comments section. Prepare for spiritual warfare catapulted from an office chair smeared with booger-snot across the armrests like comets streaking across the night’s sky. And if my Canadian girlfriend existed, she’d tell you you’re not worthy to fasten the Velcro on my shoes.

I just decided to learn about this entire Israel/Palestine conflict. I know this shit has been going on for a long time, but when you grow up being taught that Jews are like God’s assistant coaches who just haven’t read his playbook, you kind of see them as misguided money-children that will inevitably take a hot iron to those curly sideburns and eventually walk the straight and narrow right into the gates of Castle War-Christ…and that’s when Armageddon can finally commence on those fig-chewing petro-jihadists who think Christ isn’t the redeemer of their intense, closed-tent jerkoff sessions.

Muhammad can’t absolve the sin of your crusty sand-seed baking away miles above liquid dinosaurs…that’s Jesus’ job you filthy fucking Kalashnikov-waving camel burdeners! But before the Supreme Tablet Maker in the sky sends an Affleckian-Armageddon spiraling towards the fertile crescent, he’s going to have to rapture some people. That’s where I come in. I’ll be long gone, shit-lords. When Jesus comes back, I’ll be ascending into the heavens, probably passing the sorry-screaming wooden-shoed victims of some pro-Russian rebels at around 15,000 feet. I’ll just smirk. The fucking audacity of those Godless beaker-swirling co-existers thinking they could cure God’s perfect judgement-virus. Say hello to the ground for me. crazy rightwing facebook libcrusher

And after, when I’m sitting on a cloud made of cotton candy with Colton Burpo’s stunt double watching the World War III blooper reels, I’ll double over with the exaggerated YouTube laughter of a thousand Eliot Rogers when all of the beautiful women I stalk online are eating the same dogs they posted a thousand pictures of. They’ll think of how I was raptured up whole. They’ll regret left-swiping me into a dungeon of my own fedora-acne. They’ll picture me, emerging from a cloud of white smoke. Black Slacks. No ShirtNun chucksks hanging symmetrically around my truncated neck, handles bouncing swiftly against my B-cups as I confidently strut towards them. “Join me in Christian paradise!” I’ll say, offering my hand.

But before it can be clasped, I’ll disappear slowly until she’s grasping at the mere vapors of my masculinity. All she will be left with is the hindquarters of her favorite accessory in her mouth…and the regret of not saving herself for marriage like I did. Did people think it was easy for me, to turn down hot babes, popularity, and an exciting social life? I turned it all down, on purpose, for the satisfaction of laughing from above while everyone else burns.

That’s the payment for shunning me when I was a pre-raptured glob of angry cytoplasm. But back to the land of a thousand temples, it does seem a little drastic to engage in indiscriminate mass-murder on your open-air prisoners just because a couple of guys named “Moshe” won’t make it home for seder-supper, but swift falls the sword of the Jewish people. After six-thousand years of nagging menorah moms consistently passing down their jittery Jew genes, no wonder they are a nation of frightened spazzes.

But those open-toed rock tossers in Gaza are even worse. They are the New York Knicks of the Middle East: perennial losers that celebrities still support even though they get their asses kicked by the Rockets (Thomas Friedman or PFT Commenter you have my permission to use that one). So yes, I stand with Israel! Obungler wants you to side with the terrorists (AKA Palestinian children), but since God gave that land to the Jews, they have the right to stand their ground. (Book of Zimmerman 3:16).

Wearing a backwards hat inside a car does more to disprove evolution than any of Mr. Fartfield's long youtube diatribes against it.
Wearing a backwards hat inside a car does more to disprove evolution than any of Mr. Fartfield’s long YouTube diatribes against it.

I’m just going to enjoy watching it play out from heaven as the last nuke explodes in New York City like the pungent poof of a puckered asshole discharging the last oily fart before a giant tuna-turd. Sweeping destruction will befall the last of the earth’s survivors, people who never knew what it was like to have their nut-pouch flopped over the elastic waistband of their shorts all night…. gazing into a monitor while the brain and jaw simultaneously slack…yearning for the opiate of acceptance…settling for the anticipated glee of watching everyone melt.





One response to “I Am Your Crazy Facebook Friend: Israel / Palestine Edition.”

  1. John Welsh Avatar
    John Welsh

    As they said back in the days of Ken Kesey and his Merry Pranksters, you’re either on the bus, or you’re off the bus. You Mr. Mexico, aren’t on the bus.

    The Gonzo approach only works as a tool of a competent writer, one who understands the vulgar and obscure are unnecessary. Drop the modifiers.

    Hunter S. Thompson, the foremost practitioner of Gonzo, began every writing secession by typing out the first paragraphs of The Great Gatsby. Thus starting with clarity of expression, not self indulgence. I have no doubt I am not the only reader of the above who is weary of this type of egocentric challenge. Your job is to convince the reader, not only to amuse yourself by self-delusion.

    You employ the language of Shakespeare, Joyce and Emerson. Try to make your writing worthily of them.

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