Chicago, Illinois. The world-famous blog, The Arm Chair Pontificator, was awarded its second Nobel Prize in four years by its creator and writer, Inspiredbythedivine1, earlier today. “I deserve this award,” Mr. Inspired said to himself this morning, “because everything I think or write about is always completely and inerrantly correct. How many other bloggers can make this claim? None, I tell you, none! Thus, I’ve awarded myself another Nobel Prize. I’ve emailed the Nobel Committee of this occurrence and expect them to send me my award any moment now. If they refuse to do this, like they refused to send me the last award I gave myself several years ago, I will prank call their children, their parents, and their pets until I bend them to my will with the pure intimidation of it all. I want to thank all of the 6 billion readers of my blog for supporting me, and it, over these past few years. It is not easy making up silly shit off the top of my head 3 or 4 times a month, but knowing you’re out there, reading what I write and having it enrich your lives far more than anything else you may have in them, makes it all worthwhile. Thanks again to all of my fans, and remember, a note or a call to a Nobel Prize Committee member threatening to flay them alive if they refuse to recognize me for this award, would be greatly appreciated.”
Never in history has a self-awarded Nobel Prize winner been more persecuted than I. For four years now the Nobel Prize Committee has outright refused to acknowledge my self-awarded prize. They turn me away when I drop by their homes unannounced, and they threaten me with legal action when I run naked through their children’s schools carrying a sign that reads, “Fuck The Nobel Prize Committee And Their Kids!”
They’ve now stepped up their game of intimidation against me by sending drones to spy on me. It was bad enough when they asked the FBI to appoint a special prosecutor to look into my repeated prank phone calls to Committee members and their families, but sending spy drones to follow me day and night is something I simply will not sit still for. Until the Committee stops this harassment of me and recognizes my self-awarded Nobel Prize, I will make it my life’s duty to have pizza’s delivered to their homes that they didn’t order and whine like a spoiled brat to the media about how awful they are to me every chance I get. This IS going end, you stinking bastards, and it’s going to end with me getting the recognition from you I deserve. You can count on it!
Well, on second thought, maybe it won’t work out. But that’s OK because, if it doesn’t, I can always become POTUS. Americans will elect anyone these days.
As many who’ve followed my self-awarded, Nobel Prize winning work over the past 60 years know, I hate the French. I’ve never said why, but, after receiving close to 500,000 emails in the past 2 hours asking me for an explanation, I’ve decided to spill my guts on the matter. Here are my very valid reasons for hating the French.
1.) The Battle of Hastings. Need I say more? These bastards invaded England in 1066, and all but ruined the English language by injecting their fluffy one into it. Before The Battle of Hastings, a chair was simply called a sittin’ peg. Now we call sittin’ pegs “chairs”. Why? Because of the French and their highbrow, pansy-ass language. Screw that, man!
2.) Bread. Before the French decided to roll out bread dough into long, thin loaves, long thin bread was considered abhorrent, and those who made it were burned at the stake as witches. But, then, along come the goddamn French with their fancy-ass long loaves of bread they call “French Bread” and guess what? It becomes popular and desired. I cry FOUL on this one, you French, witch bastards! You may be able to fool others with your evil, witch ways and nasty, abhorrent, long-loafed bread, but you can’t pull the wool over this Nobel Prize Winner’s eyes. I’m onto you, and I’m watching you. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
3.) French Toast. This last one is simply the worse. Before the coming of the French, toast was just toast. Nothing fancy about it. You toasted some goddamn bread, buttered it, put jam on it, and ate the fuckin’ thing. But, of course, this wasn’t good enough for the French. No. They needed to dip bread in eggs first, put cinnamon on it, and fry it before eating it. AND, they, naturally, call this unnatural dish, “French” Toast. Fuck that! It’s just toast with eggs and cinnamon on it! How the hell is that “French”? Jesus, these people simply can’t touch ANYTHING without defiling it with their “French” ways! I HATE ’em! And now, I’m sure you do too. Thanks for reading, and remember, if you’re American, arm yourself. It’s your right and the only way to keep America free.
Recently, I’ve decided to be more honest with myself and others in hopes of getting the Nobel Prize Committee to GET OFF IT’S COLLECTIVE ASS and give me my NOBEL PRIZE already! So, I’ve a huge confession to make.
Not only do I eat Christian children and love it, I firmly believe in Satan, a magical invisible guy, and I’ve devoted my entire life, each and every breath of it, to Him and His insipid evil ways. Every night I strip down to a thin silver thong, cover my nipples in garlic butter, and chant morally deprived incantations to the scourge of all Christians, the “E” in all Evil, and the “A” in all atheism, Satan. The mushroom induced incantation I recently recited for my Lord and Master went something like this.
Oh great, nasty, mother fuckin’ Satan! You are soooo nasty and mother fuckin’ rotten! In honor of you and your limitless depravity, today I pushed an old man down to the pavement and told him I did it because I wanted to be more like you. Then I took his wallet and threw it down a sewer while calling him a sissy and a barnyard animal-fucker. Oh, the fun I had doing it!
Oh, nasty, nasty mother fuckin’ evil one! Oh, enemy of Christians! Oh, bringer of bad smells! I know you’re real, and that you will reward me with many sexually perverted women who’ll use me as their love bitch simply because I have Faith in you.
And it is by Faith, and Faith alone, that I know you are, with absolute and undeniable certainty, real. My Faith in you, oh, Lord of all fecal matter, is infallible and perfect. This is obvious to all who share my Faith in you. And lastly, oh, ceaseless torturer of puppies and senseless paralyzer of children, I meditated on my Faith in you for a very long time today and concluded it was not possible I could be wrong about your evil existence. Thus, it is without refute that I know you exist in a timeless, space-less, immaterial, boundless shit-hole somewhere and are as real as real can be. Bless you my evil Lord, and thank you for helping me become the nasty no-good-nik I proudly am today.
Here’s a list of some stupid shit I’ve done that, at first, seemed really fucking awesome to do.
A.) I paid millions of dollars to a metal manufacturing company to have my skeleton injected with unbreakable adamantium so I could be a bad ass like Wolverine from the X-Men. It was only months after the very painful procedure that I learned adamantium only exists in comic books and that only normal aluminum had been injected into my skeleton. Talk about EMBARRASSING! And costly!
B.) I irradiated a huge wolf spider and had it bite me in the hopes I’d gain its abilities and become Spiderman. Instead, I developed a severe allergic reaction to the bite and spent a week in the hospital recovering. The spider is fine, BTW.
C.) I filled a cardboard box with fire ants and wrapped it in lovely Christmas wrapping. Then I sent it to a male Nobel Prize Committee member’s elderly grandmother with a note reading: “Have a smokin’ hot Holiday, old lady, from the dude STILL waiting for your Grandson to award him his long over due Nobel Prize!” Unexpectedly, however, the Grandma almost died from the severity of the fire ant bites, and the authorities were SOMEHOW able to figure out it was me who sent them to her. How, I’ll never know, but let me just say, if you’re ever looking for serious legal issues, just pull a stunt like this and get caught.
D.) I decided to engage a Christian Apologist online about the fact that apologizing for being stupid doesn’t make one any less stupid. After several weeks of running on a hamster wheel with this Apologist, and getting nowhere close to relieving him of his stupidity, I suffered an emotional collapse and spent a week recovering in the trauma ward of a major Chicago hospital. To this day, I have no feeling in my left ass check as a result of this online encounter.
E.) I began running experiments in my apartment using a particle accelerator I purchased at CVS for $12.99. Well, one day I forgot to turn it off before leaving for work; my dog knocked it over, and when I came home, I found my entire apartment building had been sucked into a 12″ by 12″ black hole it had created. I know this is what happened because my dog was not pulled into the black hole with my building. She was transformed into a god and waited for me to get home to tell me what happened before leaving to live with the other god dogs in that big god dog park in the sky. Of course, my legal issues around this catastrophe would make the fire ant incident pale in comparison should anyone ever figure out I was the one responsible for it. Never buy, run, and then forget to switch off a CVS brand particle accelerator before leaving for work, especially if you have pets.
“Internet traffic froze this morning for a fraction of a millisecond in honor of The Arm Chair Pontificator which published its 3 millionth post at 8:54 AM, CST,” said WordPress publicist, Fr. Peddy O’File.
“We here at WordPress have never known one of our blogs to be so popular, so pertinent, and so bloody Nobel Prize worthy as to inspire its author to publish 3 million posts in just 16 months. Our hats are off to you, Mr. Pontificator. We thank you. We congratulate you. And we beg you, kind Sir, to please sire children with every fertile woman who works for us in order to insure the survival of your manly, brilliant, Nobel Prize worthy DNA. Do this, if not for yourself, because we know how modest you are, then for the billions of readers whose lives will lose all meaning should your DNA not be passed on to another, Nobel Prize worthy, being like yourself. Congratulations once again, and thank you. Thank you from the deepest, darkest corners of all our souls here at WordPress, for being such an important, central part of our blogging family. $Amen$”
So, I’ve been calling Nobel Prize Committee members and breathing like Darth Vader into the phone when they answer for months now just to fuck with ’em. I’ll do, like, 300 or so calls like this on a phone, then toss it out, buy a new one, and begin all over again. This way, the authorities, whom my lawyer says want me to stop this, won’t be able to trace the calls back to me. I learned how to do this from a character in “The Wire” which was on cable a few years back. The last time I called a committee member’s house to do this, however, his 9-year-old niece answered the phone, and me, being the sly dog I am, told her I was God and that I was calling to warn her that her uncle was the Devil and was going to boil her alive in oil then feed her to wild pigs while making her mother watch. I thought for sure I’d fucked this kid’s mind up good, until I heard her handing the phone to her uncle while saying, “There’s a crazy man on the phone saying he’s God.” Well, the language that came out of that guy’s mouth when he started yelling at me was so foul, I can’t get myself to write it. He insulted my cock size and questioned whether or not I took large penises up my manhole. He hurt my feelings, and he made me cry. That just wasn’t necessary, or nice. I wouldn’t have to do shit like this if the fucking Nobel Committee would JUST GIVE ME MY HARD EARNED NOBEL PRIZE ALREADY!!! It’s not my fault I said horrible shit to that child, it’s THEIRS!!! And by God, I swear I’ll make them pay for it if it’s the last thing I do! Well, maybe not THE last, but at least close to it.