I got my annual invitation. Threw it in the garbage.

Those maniacs can kiss my ass.

^{What a bloody mess...}

They Told Me to Keep It Quiet

^{"Not a peep."}

This is writing though. It's not loud at all.

They put me in my own private jet last year. It was a bumpy ride. If I wanted something to drink I had to get up and get it myself.

It was like a flying hotel room complete with one of those little forbidden refrigerators. I didn't know if I was supposed to pay for that stuff so I took one bottle of water, drained about a dozen of those little vodka bottles into my mouth; then I filled those little bottles with water, and put them back in the fridge. Some asshole is probably flying around now, wondering why he's not drunk. That's my fault. I don't care though.

That Was a Six Hour Flight

^{I was still drunk when I got off the plane.}

I forgot about taking my pants off so I had to run back inside the jet and look for them. Couldn't find the damn things. They were gone.

I blame that pilot to this day. He's probably still wearing my pants somewhere. They shouldn't let people like that board planes. Damn terrorists.

I made up for lost time at airport security.

^{They asked me to strip down, I was already half way there.}

I didn't shove any guns up my ass this time but that didn't stop that big lesbian from waving her magic wand around and giving my balls cancer. Then they pushed me over to the next station and dumped the contents of my bag everywhere.

As they were rummaging through everything, looking for the cocaine I had up my ass; I reached in for some pants and that big lesbian slapped my hand. It was the first time someone ever hit me that hard. It was traumatizing and now every time I go on a date with the Palm sisters, I'm reminded of that big lesbian and it kills the mood.

Code Name:

^Bumfuzzled

I finally found the driver holding up the sign that read, "Mr. Bumfuzzled."

That was my ride. I asked him, "What kind of limo is this?" He laughed and said all the good ones were taken so I had to park my ass inside the back of an early 80's Pontiac Parisienne. It was comfortable but I didn't know if the crusty stains on the upholstery were baby puke or some dude's happy ending. That stuff was everywhere and stood out like stars in the night sky. Out of boredom, I started looking for constellations.

I don't have much to say about the hotel room.

^{I did the vodka trick again, then passed out.}

I woke up with a nasty headache and heard something hit the floor.

It was a box. Someone was in my room while I slept. Those little signs we all hang on the doorknob do not work.

I opened the box. All that was inside was my robe, another one of those tiny bottles of vodka, a clip-on name badge and a note that said:

Your ride will be out back waiting for you at six o'clock. Do not put on your robe and name badge until you exit the vehicle. Make sure nobody is following you.

The only people following me were you people.

^{I trust you'll keep your yaps shut.}

So whatever. I got there, put on my fancy robe, chugged the vodka, clipped on my name badge, then walked up to a crowd of people.

The first guy I see is Alex freakin' Jones.

No matter how hard I tried, I could not get rid of that fucking guy. The entire night his mouth is going off like a machine gun. Total cockblock, too. That dude has no idea how annoying he is.

Some say it's all an act. Well they never met him! King fucking douche bag. And he keeps bringing me these cloudy red beers. "That's real goat blood in there! Makes you feel like a real man! Puts hair on your chest!" And the next thing you know, he's got his robe off, standing there with his dick out, pulling on his chest hair and making these fucked up ape sounds.

Then Kanye walks up with his massive cock and starts plowing Alex Jones up the ass!

Alex was still talking the whole time!

^{Then the music started.}

Now Alex Jones is yelling and laughing about having the new world order up his ass the entire time and he wasn't lying because they started running a train on that man.

Then Donald Trump ripped off his toupee and wedged it in between his butt cheeks so it looks like a tail. The next thing you know he's prancing around the bonfire yelling:

I'm a fox! I'm a fox! Help me! I'm a fox!

Then Zuckerberg comes flying out of the bushes wearing only a cape and a three foot long strap on dildo. He's got the Steem logo carved into his chest, blood everywhere, and he's all like:

I'll save you!

And the next thing you know, Donald Trump is trying to cough up his toupee hairball that no doubt got rammed all the way up into the back of his throat from what Zuckerberg kept referring to as, Kim's Rocket.

Then I remembered I still had cocaine up my ass.

^{There was no way in hell I was going to let these maniacs ruin my party.}

So I ran outta there as fast I could, all the way back to my hotel.

And I am never, ever, going back to that place again.

Screw that!

Credits: _{All images seen here were produced digitally, by me. "Speechless?"}

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