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Thread: Michael Jackson Interviews the Terrorist Testicle

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    Smile Michael Jackson Interviews the Terrorist Testicle

    Michael Jackson Interviews the Terrorist Testicle
    by Wolf Larsen

    Warning: If you have a problem with sex, or if you are religious, or if you are easily offended by just about anything at all, then stop reading now.

    Michael Jackson gets up and dances and sings: “my eyes are testicles, and my face is green! My thoughts are purple, and my feet are doing Schoenburg with Marilyn Monroe! So tell me, Terrorist Testicle, where is Shangri-La? ”

    The Terrorist Testicle flies in the air around Michael Jackson and responds: “I’m hungry! I’m so hungry I could stick my humongous tongue out and lick every extraterrestrials’ penis for galaxies around! And I think Russia has gotten too infested with futurism, and that’s why pushing NATO all the way to the borders of Russia is the delicious cat’s meow of the human race’s sunset!”

    A bunch of dancing girls on stage sing: “the cats meow! It’s the cats meow — the sunset of the human race!”
    That’s when a naked William Shakespeare runs by. He’s chasing a laughing young beautiful Queen Elizabeth through the aisles of the auditorium, and she’s also naked.

    Michael Jackson sings: “I love the Queen, she so up-and-down! I love the Terrorist Testicle, he’s so round and round! So, Terrorist Testicle, what’s the green dot on a canvas?”

    The Terrorist Testicle paints his testicles red white & blue and responds: “I’m looking for a giant anus to give my speeches with, because I’m running for President of the United States of Syphilis! I want to be president of the United States of Syphilis because my dog ****ing cubism onto a canvas is the answer! And that’s why red white & blue prison bars across the nation is my delicious Hershey’s chocolate bar! Yummy yummy yummy!! So much yummy yummy in my presidential baseball sack of liberty hanging between my legs! I’m a red blooded pair of American testicles — made in the USA — and my hot babymaking batter is proudly made in the USA too!”

    Michael Jackson dances an African-American Irish jig with a three legged dog, and sings: “I’ve got the nuclear cooties, and everybody’s nearly bankrupt! The storefronts downtown are all as empty as an economic apocalypse! And I can’t seem to find my child pornography square dances! So tell me Mister Terrorist Testicle for President, what are you going to do about gargoyles in the breakfast cereal eating all the affordable healthcare?”

    The Terrorist Testicle answers: “too much white privilege! Look at the white privilege of Walmart workers! Look at all the white privilege in the trailer parks! We need a black Richard Nixon to set this country right — and I’m your man! I mean — I’m your testicle!”

    And that’s when a bunch of pink verbs happen...

    Michael Jackson sings: “I’ve got Pablo Picasso, in my balls! I’ve got bipartisan politics, coming out of my ***! So Mister Terrorist Testicle, what’s the new-“left”-over dog do do to you?”

    The Terrorist Testicle swallows the moon and answers: “my anus will save you all! My anus will give you the speeches that you all will adore! My anus will restore America to its rightful place in history, to its rightful place in the manifest destiny of hamburger & fries, because Christian politics is so fattening! And public transportation is for nations of wussy girlie men!”

    The audience of fat patriotic churchgoing big SUV driving Americans cheers wildly, and then they go back to eating & eating & eating at the fast food trough, which is circulating straight out of the sewer system.

    Predator drones begin flying out of the head of Michael Jackson — brightly colored predator drones being flown by Mickey Mouse clones. And the Terrorist Testicle grows an Empire State Building — and suddenly the anus in the middle of the face of Donald Trump blesses the Empire State Building with his gifted oral skills. Hillary Clinton is there too — she’s smiling as she eyes the big nuclear button in her hands.

    Michael Jackson sings: “the mushroom clouds will be upon us soon! And Charlie Sheen & Michelle Obama are creating world peace in the bedroom together! So tell us, so tell us Mr. Testicle, what is your plan for occupying the ghettos with walking trigger-happy human drones in blue?”

    The Terrorist Testicle begins thumping the drums and playing the clarinet and doing the piano a journey across the trenches of World War I. Duke Ferdinand is dancing with the mushroom clouds to the rhythms of the clarinet & drums & piano...

    The Terrorist Testicle sings: “Monica Lewinsky in my Serbian bombings! Corporate bailouts with my Barack Obama stew! And if you don’t agree, then to North Korea with you!”

    Michael Jackson asks: “is a transvestite Rick Santorum going to suck my peppermint candy in my dreams? Are NDAA Christmas pies going to Guantánamo Bay with all of this prison building on Mars? And what about the dirty underwear of Chicago politics? Is it true that they don’t need the Klan in Segregation City, because the Chicago Police Department pretty much does the same thing? And what about all the transvestite prostitutes in Congress? Shouldn’t we elect some space aliens instead?”

    The Terrorist Testicle plays the answer to Michael Jackson’s question on the piano.

    Meanwhile, everybody is celebrating! Somebody shouts: “my banana’s getting soft! It’s time for some abstract expressionism!”

    Michael Jackson asks the audience: “would you like some abstract expressionism with your pornography?”

    The audience answers: “we want heart attacks! Give us more fast food now!”

    The Terrorist Testicle ends with a bow and says: “vote for me in 2016! Thank you very much for all the family-values-incest-value-meals! The last guy brought you lots of change — as in the kind that jiggles in your pocket, while he gave all the Benjamin Franklins away in corporate bailouts! I on the other hand, I promise lots of milk — lots of warm-immaculate-conception-terrorist-milk! — for everybody! Vote for Terrorist Testicle for president in 2016!”

    The crowd cheers. Everybody takes off their underwear and puts it on top of their heads. And then toads start jumping out of everybody’s heads. The hopping toads hopping everywhere are all chanting: “Terrorist Testicle for president! Terrorist Testicle for president!”

    The legacy of the Terrorist Testicle has been born!

    Copyright 2015 by Wolf Larsen
    (Clarification: I am not actually running for president again in 2016. Let me repeat that! I am not running for president, regardless of whatever rumors you may have heard, I am not running for president, so thank you for giving me this opportunity of once again clarifying that I am not... Ha ha ha ha!)
    "...the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind."
    My poetry & other stuff on Amazon: Larsen

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