RIP Sean

Today woulda been my boy Sean's 24th (or 23rd, fuck I'm old and dumb)birthday. Dude was dealt a really fuckin tough draw in life and turned to drugs to deal with it. That Heroin is a real mother fucker and he ODed while we were all Jackalin it up in the Broconos.

Not many of you really knew of him or knew him at all but his dad (RIP Pops) and my dad were really good friends while I was growing up. Kid was always fun to be around and had a big old heart which probably led to him having such a tough time dealing with shit later on in life. There isn't much to say except for the fact that our society is fucked, our penal system is fucked, and sometimes life just plain isn't fair. Shit you know how Jackals take to the bottle so who knows what would happen to any of us if we ever stuck that needle in our arm or put that yayo up our nose. Bad shit happens to good people. Wish I would've done more to help you out bro. I'm really sorry I couldn't get you outta that shit.

So all of you that own a copy of the original Jackals LP Go To Sleep throw on the last track, listen to my boy Supreme spit the first verse(dude is pretty sick on the mic), and pour one out.

Much love brother,

SS

ps let me quote one of his lyrics to segue from kind words into angry as fuck which were extremely well played "familiar with the flavor of tears, now come see a gangsta I spit inside the face of my fears" Any mother fucker that doesn't think some form of universal health care is a good idea is basically saying fuck you SS, your boy deserved to die. He had zero options after 45 days in lock up for drug treatment. A treatment facility wouldn't take him for free because he had already detoxed in jail. A halfway house wouldn't take him because he hadn't been through a formal treatment program. There was no treatment program in the facility he was in because it didn't house people for more than a few months. The health insurance industry basically has drug treatment on lock which means only people with insurance or money can get help. That's great for a dumb bitch like Lindsey Lohan or a rich gay clone like DI or even someone who is able to hold down a job while being some sort of drug addict. But for real fucking people that just doesn't work. So if that's your retarded fucking position, that people with an addiction or a disease that are below a certain income threshold deserve to die, come talk to me and I will gut you like a fucking fish and feed your entrails to my dog. Baleeve that.

Fuck the rain

It has been raining in the Armpit for literally an entire month. I think we have had possibly one 1/2 day of no rain since April. What the fuck is going on?

Have we finally polluted enough that the world is finally saying fuck you pricks, you have puffed your final CO2 emission; now, enjoy the next 300 days of straight rain followed by an absurdly long winter and then a draught?

I thought the only places that were supposed to get rain like this were in Asia. What the fuck? Really this shit is fucking my head up.

Maybe this is God's way of telling me that I have done my penance and I can leave this God forsaken place.

Fuck New Jersey.

Roast a Jackal: KOTJ

Ok... first off I'm not even sure who KOTJ is but I'll take a wild guess. It'll be good either way. I'll word it in the form of a roast, and I'll be sure to use actual facts unlike KOTJ, who has to make shit up in order to get his digs in. So... everybody please raise your glasses for the worst Jackal of them all.

Here's to King of the Jungle, the only vegetarian "Jackal" lucky enough to frequently call out members of the most carnivorous group of maniacs I know and never get any kickback for it (at least as far as I've seen). Vegetarianism has got to be on the top of the charts for gay clone lifestyle choices, barely edging out tattoos of electrical tape around the arm.

"Hey guys, look at all this bacon and sausage and barbeque sauce. Let's put that shit a roll!"

"No thanks, I've got a tofu and lettuce sandwich on pita bread, with what looks like tzatziki sauce, but it could be mistaken for a present that my gay clone left me in my duffel bag. It was in a balloon and knotted off. Isn't he so thoughtful?"

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going home and opening a bottle of scotch and cook a steak on the grill so I can live the awesome lifestyle that I'M accustomed to. Being a fucking Jackal.

Cheers!

AS

Washington Post? Not you too!

I know I'm a fuckin' beast with Microsoft Paint, but I'm not this good. Notice 'relaxes' also makes a showing at 40-Across. I'm a novice crossword solver, so we'll have to wait for the official solution in tomorrow's paper to confirm. The fact that I do crossword puzzles for fun might make me a gay clone to begin with. Jackals! You decide...

Jackal to Jackal Callout: AS(S)

Hey Aldente, where the hell is this amazing banner you were talking about?

I am getting so sick of looking at that shitty one we have now even though everything excluding its quality is perfect.

NFC BEast: Portis Beef Bullshit

This whole Portis beef with Zorn news is getting old, not to mention total bullshit.

This is the Media's lame attempt to get some news going with nothing going on in the off season. Isn't there some Eagles player somewhere drunk driving or Falcons player dog fighting or Giants player shooting himself somewhere to provide news so they can leave my man alone? I mean damn Riggo wouldn't have to deal with this shit.

Phillies ex-ball player bankrupt.

Former Phillies great Lenny Dykstra, and Jim Kramer touted financial prodigy, Lenny Dykstra's rise to the top comes crashing down in a blaze of un-glory. I recommend tracking down this video...pretty fucking hilarious

Goldberg found a defiant Dykstra at his unfurnished mansion, where the door
had been left unlocked. When no one answered, Goldberg walked inside and began
calling out for Dykstra: "Lenny? Anybody home? Hello? Mr.
Dykstra?"

Close to a half-hour later, Dykstra came downstairs for
their scheduled appointment, which resulted in what Goldberg called "something
vaguely resembling a conversation." Dykstra denied owing anyone money, including
the $280,000 allegedly owed to the printer of The Players Club, the glossy
lifestyle magazine for pro athletes that Dykstra launched last
spring.

DYKSTRA: Who? Tell me who I owe?
GOLDBERG: Let's go
through a few people. The printers . . .
DYKSTRA: Fuck the printers. The
printers are criminals.
GOLDBERG: The flight attendant?
DYKSTRA: Fuck the
flight attendant . . . They all think they can come here and steal my
money.

Dykstra says the legal cases against him are "all
bullshit."

Goldberg asked Dykstra what he would say to people "who
think once upon a time you were flying high and now you're
broke?"
Dykstra laughed and withdrew a wad of bills, which he began
counting. Goldberg said, "OK, so you've got $75 in your pocket, that doesn't
make you rich." To which Dykstra replied, "I never carry less than $1,000. But
flying high? Looks like I'm still flying pretty fuckin’ high. And by the way,
I'm flying higher."

Aldente Schwanz, Where You At?!?!?

Dude is clearly alive but has not yet told a single Vegas story.

Dude even sent out a mass email from Vegas at 3am spelling his own name wrong at the beginning of the email and then lamenting that if anything was spelled wrong it was because iPhones have a crappy spell checker. This set the stage for a recap of epic proportions....

and then....

Nothing.

Bitch juice by the gallon my friend, you must be drinking it.

WTF?????

(I'm sure Jesus really appreciated the Bush poster with guns and bombs on it.)

Religious Fanatics Suck Balls...i'm just sayin'