Illegal Immigration: A Solution

With all the illegal border crossing and controversy surrounding it, somebody has to do something in order to resolve the issue. I figure I'm just as well qualified as the next guy. Therefore, I have come up with a fullproof plan in order to cease and desist the hispanic overrun.

I will form an elite task force to deal with the problem swiftly and with minimal monetary loss.

They will be composed of various special ops members, each with a talent relevant to specific operations.

This team will be a shadow, striking with precision and accuracy.

Captain: Tom Selleck



His obvious leadership capabilities make him the perfect choice for leader of the team. His task would be to seduce unsespecting mexican women and impregante them. Over time the hispanic bloodline would dilude because any offspring of Selleck would definatly get them a white woman.












Gang Buster/2nd in command: Tookie Williams


Co-founder of the Crips, Tookie is as ligit as they come. If Selleck were to go down due to a cramp or an STD, Tookie could step in without missing a step. Anyone who can organize a bunch of gangbangers has something special. These days Tookie says he is a peaceful man and is currently waiting to be executed. However, we would use him to bust up the hispanic gangs polluting our elementary schools. If I was a young hispanic gang I would shit my pants if Tookie came to my school. No more pen stealing for you little beaners.






Border Deturrent Squad: A Bunch of Big Guys

Tony Boselli:


Retired NFL All-Pro lineman. All he has to do is stand at the border and pretend Texas is the QB.













Larry Allen:


Same job as Boselli, but Tony can't cover all of Texas. Allen also has the ability to pull down the border-line and knock aliens back across the border like and unsuspecting defensive end.











Yokozuna:


Champion sumo wrestler and former WWF champ. Yokozuna will not be defeated, unless Shawn Michaels defects and body slams him...lightning never strikes twice in the same place, so the odds are with him.












2nd Stage Border Duturrent/Team Bitch: Gilbert Godfreid


In the unlikely case that the front line is penetrated, Gilbert would post up outside San Antonio with a loudspeaker. His annoying voice and personality would send Mexi's hauling ass back to Laredo.







Well there it is. My plan. I've sent a more formal proposal to the Texas legislature, so action should be taken swiftly.

kick ass

Bizzaro Shep

As some of you may or may not know, I have a twin. Not a real twin, but more of an alternate universe double of myself. It's kind of like that Jet Li movie "The One." In which, an evil Jet Li travels through dimensions killing alternate universe Jet Li's. When he kills them he inherits their karma, or ki, or some other stupid Jap life force power. I'm pretty sure if I killed this guy I would become more powerful. It wouldn't be so bad, except that he's the guy who yells real loud at all the baseball games. So if I meet new people they occasionally say, "oh, your the guy at the ball games!"....NONONO. It's not me...it's BIZZARO SHEP! I've named him Bizzaro Shep because he has white hair, yep, white hair. It's just like Bizzaro Superman from the popular 70's cartoon the Superfriends.

I've decided to have a little blog quiz to see if you can tell if it's me or bizzaro.








Question 1: Me or Bizzaro














Question 2: Me or Bizzaro















Question 3: Me or Bizzaro


















Question 4: Me or Bizzaro












Have fun

Its A Diadeloso Miracle...that I'm alive.

A Precursor:
This is the drunkest I've ever been...ever. That's saying alot. I've thrown up in a half dozen bars, blacked-out, and made an ass of myself on several occassions. So this is a truly "special" story.

It started out with four or five stiff bloody mary's and then it took a turn for the worst.

I got off with Ford Burdett's cousin and started taking beer bongs. I can't really recall how many I actually had, but Dub and Woody came over at one point and said they saw me do five in approximatly ten minutes. I was over there for two hours total.

I couldn't stand up strait, I tried to sit on a stool with little success.

I cornered Mark Shepherd at one point and talked to him for a long while telling him he was a "hustler," and that we have the same last name, in case he didn't know.

I somehow rode a bike down the street, and then threw it.

I asked a girl when we were going to "hook up".

Keene took my keys away, this will come into play later.

A dog peed on my leg and no one would tell me who's dog it was.

Things I don't remember:
-It getting dark outside
-how many beer bongs I had
-half the conversations I had
-I was told I wasn't speaking clearly...to the point no one could understand me.
-who took me home
-Keene and Boss came by my house to check on me. They told me later my door was open and I was curled up in my bed.
-Keene put my keys in my ass.
-I woke up with my keys on the table next to the bed.

Lord have mercy on me...

Saw 'Em Off

My sister invited me and some friends down to Chilifest this past weekend. I've never been out drinking in College Station, and was excited to spread my drunken cheer in a new city. We stopped in a drive-through beer barn on the way in that served margaritas, which I thought was pretty cool. We went out to Northgate about 9 or 10 after playing drinking games at Emily's apartment. We started out at the famous Dixie Chicken. It was a little too crowded for our taste so we only stayed long enough to drink a couple $1 pearl beers. Then came the dry bean. A small bar that exclusively serves shots...and shots alone...not to mention at a reasonable price. It was an equasion for a disasterous night. An awesomly disasterous night. The shot progression went like this...
-jagerbomb
-sex with a crocodile
-jagerbomb
-blowjob, Edgar got some in his eye which makes it ironic
-a few more I can't remember specifically

We would have ordered more but got kicked out for starting a "saw 'em off" chant.

Moved to a different bar and ordered a "flaming" Dr. Pepper. The only problem was they didn't light it on fire. They should have just called it an alcoholic beverage that kinda tastes like a Dr. Pepper but not really...shitty ass aggies. And not that we didn't try to get them to light the damn thing. They would'nt do it. In fact, they down right refused. And when we asked if we could light them ourselves, those fuckers just glared at us. I can assure you if we'd have been at Scruff's they'd have lit that bitch up in a heartbeat.

We almost died on the ride home...

A girl that was hanging out with us insisted she was sober, so we headed for the parking garage. On the way over, the shirts came off and saw 'em off was heard resonating through the garage. Six grown men were piled into a tiny-ass acura. The driver hit two cars before we left the building... I began to worry. The ride home was like riding a roller coaster, complete with sharp turns and screaming. Anyway, the drunk-ass driver gets us lost and refuses to pull over to get directions. A quick thinking Keene faked a claustrophobic fit and got her to pull over. From a Kettle resturaunt I called Emily to come get us. While waiting, Woody started salsa dancing with a hispanic couple in the parking lot... I sat on the grass and reflected.

The actual Chilifest was not all that exciting. One of Emily's friends threw up in a keystone box. Robert Earl Keen was kick-ass. I got some free snuff and shotgunned a bunch of beers.

I plan to go back soon...