Squire's Squadron's Speaking in Tongues!

Squire's Squadron is speaking in tongues! But only half of them apparently.

Monday, June 25, 2012

These Cigarette Prices here in America Today (Guest Post)

Here's a guest post from funnyman Shawn Yankey from his blog Laughing at Life!

      Hi I'm comedian Shawn Yankey from the Laughing at Life blog. Today I have been invited to do a guest post over here at the Squire's Squadron and what I'm gonna talk about while i'm here is how the man is screwing us extra hard once again. These cigarettes are just too damn expensive today.

      I mean come on, $5.00 a pack for Marlboro's? Are you fkn kidding me?

      Chris Rock once said that them's crack prices, and they really are. He's totally right.

     I mean think about it y'all, it's completely despicable these prices for our smokes. I mean it's just awful.

     It might be at least a solid number 6 on the all time list of great incidents of butt rape against us citizens of the United States of America ever occurring in time.

     Of course number one being 9/11, but this cigarette price conspiracy is at least 6th of all time if not 5. Who knows. i'll have to make the list sometime..,

     Someday maybe I'll do a complete top ten of all the biggest screw jobs and conspiracies against the American citizens done to us by our corrupt and greedy government, and maybe the Squadron will invite me back to tell y'all all about it, but for now, let's just stick with these outrageous fking cigerette prices..,

     Think about just how big of an attack against the lifestyles of us poor people this cigerette price shit really is. A brutal attack againt every poor smoker, all unpaid writers, or overnight pregnant convienience store clerk, even other various defeated and broken groups or individuals walking around. I'm in three of these groups , and I can say first hand that all three of us are getting royally screwed hard here.

     How the hell can an unpaid struggling writer like me, be expected to afford the cost of feeding my fat face microwaved hot pockets and drinking 2liters of MTN Dew, just sitting on ass in front of my computer, chainsmoking cigarettes? Sitting fat and unpaid in a plume of smoke and just writing away with my clever words. Burning my sugar Momma's hard earned money on these expensive cigarettes.

     I'm trying desperatly to write that one funny enough joke to blow up and go viral or maybe even to write a good enough short story and finally get myself paid for this writing and feed my babies with my passion and these smartass funny jokes and words.

     Seriously, I need to start making enough money soon to at least chip in on cigs and groceries from this silly writing.

     Achieving the status of poor is on our family's short term goal list, it's #3 in fact. Then maybe my wife could think of me during sex again and maybe she might even stop scowling everytime she walks by my fat bottomed chain-smoking ass as I sit there at the computer just endlessly hunting and pecking, working on blogs for free with all my clever little smartass words.

     Bottom line is, I just really can't afford to chainsmoke and write for much longer.

     For now, I write these words for free. I can't write without MTN Dew and cigarettes far as I know. I never have before. If I cant get paid to be funny I'm afraid I may need to get a real job or quit smoking.

     I can't quit smoking because guess what, punch in the crotch number two in the cig price conspiracy, these cigarettes are addictive.

You see the problem right? Here's more proof if your skeptical still..,

     Quick facts for you about why I'm so pissed about all this BS real quick. I don't want to complain too much or overstay my welcome here. I'm actually wanting to come back and write that top ten list but real quickly though some facts..,

     Did y'all know how much a pack of ciggarettes's cost in Iraq?

     $1.57, and that's for Marlboro's. My Decades' are almost $# and they are the cheapest at the store. So they pay half that and I know what you're thinking, bullshit right?

     Yes, I thought so too. And guess what else? You don't even want to Google what a gallon of gas costs over in Iraq.

     66 cents. No shit y'all. 66 pennies.

     To recap, gas is $3 cheaper and cigarettes are 4 bucks cheaper and that kinda seems weird to me right? Because I mean, didn't we just like conquor all of Iraq? Wtf is up with these prices then am I right? Where's our cheap smokes and gas here in the US?

     Either we're being screwed royal like or I say we get Navy Seal team 6 and Obama on this shit right here right away and get these two problems or at least the cigarette price delema solved right away. Money's getting tight.

    That's all I'm saying here though seriously folks, we're gonna have to rise up here or the man won't stop all this violating of us. Us poor are the 99%ers remember. We may be fat and lazy but there's tons more of us. We'd win.

    The tobacco and gas company's are raping us hard and, I don't know about y'all, but my butt is awful sore. So, let's pick a time and tweet each other so we can find a place and a time we can meet up and go fk up the man enough to at least get these cigarette and gas prices down some back home here in the motherland.

Attorney's Note*: Jon, what are you doing? You can't put something this vulgar and crazy sounding as this on your blog or else Google will shut you down!

Editor's Note**: I know, at first it was just him saying that cigarette prices were starting to get out of hand, so I decided to sprinkle in a few swear words here and there and turn it into a great conspiracy thing. You know, to get higher ratings.

Surgeon General's Warning***: Remember kids, smoking is bad for you and stuff like that. 

Everybody Else's Note****: SHUT THE FUCK UP!
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Sunday, May 27, 2012

Vote for Me! Hunt for '32 Campaign! For the greatest of Patriots!

To vote for me.

As I'm sure you all know, the new Presidential Election is coming up pretty damn soon. So, do you know who you're picking? Honestly, I don't really care, but since this is my first eligible voting election since I'll be nineteen come November, I'll be taking notes. Now I won't tell you who I'll be voting for but just assume it'll be the most obscure, random, and unlikely person you'll ever see in the Oval Office.

Now, onto the real business. The reason why I'll be bringing notes is to study the winner's campaign and perhaps incorporate that into my own! Hopefully, with the help of my zombie internet followers I can go ahead and rule this country! So, here are some excerpts from a Press Conference that I took a week ago when I made sure it was the slowest possible newsday ever.

"Hello, here. Now, you might just be wondering why we're all congregated here today. Well, I just want to announce my candidacy for the 2032 election! Any questions? Yes, you in the middle." I pointed towards some average looking woman.

"Yeah, why should we care again?"
"Uhh, good question you little bitch. Anyway, you don't care about the future? What kind of monster are you?! Shouldn't you care about the children? Besides, President is a very big deal m'aam!" After completely owning her another woman raised her hand. "Yes, go on."
"What party are you going to run as?"
"See Mary, (I pointed at the fat toad) that's a legitimate question. Uh, yea I don't want to get political lines drawn now. All I have to say is if you agree with my viewpoints then vote for me!"
"Yeah, so how are we gonna remember you twenty years from now, you dumbfuck?!" It was that damn warty toad again.
"Well, you see if you get to know my charm, wit and dazzling smile I doubt even you could forget this face. Now you sir." I pointed to a douchey looking reporter.
"Yes, well uh,  what is your agenda?"
"What did you just call me!?"
"No, your plan. The ideas that you were spewing about earlier?"
"Oh yeah! Something about curing AIDS, ending World Hunger and going to war with China. You know, the usual."
"Sorry, what was that?" inquired that bimbo once again.
"Oh, so you have a problem with ending World Hunger! You are Un Freakin' Believable! You know that, right?"
"No, not that. Even though I highly doubt you could do any of those other things. I'm talking about going to war against China."
"So, you support the Commies all of a sudden? I suppose this is a free country but I personally believe that you are a traitor to this great nation's philosophies and you take the liberties that our forefathers have toiled over for granted!" The other reporters nodded in agreement with one guy shouting "Amen!"
"Well, sure they might operate under a different political standpoint but they  are still our friends. Besides, our economy depends on the Chinese!"
"Yeah, whatever. Who cares about politics anyway? You guys will be electing me to lead, not to read!"
A couple morons facepalmed while the rest of the crowd applauded.
"Anyways, next question."
"Yessir, what are you going to do about the economy?"
"The same way that I take care of my debts, put it on an overtrusting credit card company and change your identity and move to Mexico for a couple of years."
"How the hell would that work?" asked the slimy little toad.
"We simply dump each and every penny of our debt onto China and then inform them that we actually switched places with Mexico. They'd never see it coming!"
"That wouldn't work in a million years" shouted that one douchey guy again.
"So I suppose that you have a much better plan then huh? Why don't you come up to the podium and inform everyone here of your plan?"
"Uhh, sure. Yeah, why not? OK, so here's what we do. Instead of spending a trillion dollars on healthcare or bailing out fatcat banks, why don't we just give it to the people who run the economy, you know the hundreds of millions of consumers and let them decide which companies are most important? And instead of allowing companies to send jobs overseas, how about tarriffing those companies while giving benefits to those that are primarily employed by Americans. And for Immigration, as long as they pay taxes, who the hell cares? Trust me, the IRS would be much more efficient and scarier than the Border Patrol. And-"
"OK, get off the damn podium, you had your fifteen minutes of fame. Now you're just trying to make me look bad." I said as I pushed him back to his rightful place below me.
"No, your utter lack of preparedness made you look bad. In fact I believe that guy over there is way more qualified than you!" remarked Professor Umbridge with the whole crowd nodding in agreement.
"Fine, you've got me. All I've got to say is hold on a sec. What's your name douchey guy?"
"Me, it's Jack. Jack Doe."
"Well, Mr. Doe has agreed to be my vice presidential candidate underneath the campaign Hunt Doe!"
Mr. Doe yelled out "Hells no" but it did not matter since the cheering from the crowd drowned him out.
*Attorney's Note: Normally I'd be happy that you are actually thinking ahead in the future, but this is absolutely ridiculous. I mean this ain't exactly good press and the last hitman hiring took out your allotted legal budget, so you might want to tone it down. Oh yeah, why the fuck am I not an Attorney General anymore?
**Writer's Note: Well maybe if I become president you might actually be a secretary or something.
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Friday, February 3, 2012

Gun to a Knife Fight: The Never Ending Noir Novel

 A noise, irritating, nasally, almost shriek-like, distresses a man who merely writhes in his bed. He slams his fist hard on the alarm clock, killing off the noise. Then he hears a similar whiney tone across the room, which forces him to scramble and clumsily flail at  in a hurried fashion, before the ringer expired. As he finally reaches the phone, he is lambasted by an outraged voice.
                “Stone, where the fuck are you?”
                “Oh, it’s just the Lawyer. I thought I told you that you should only call this damn phone in a life or death situation. Since you clearly sound nice and safe, I’ll continue to take my extended break,” muttered Stone cantankerously.
                “It’s noon Stone. Get your ass out of bed, get dressed and get here quick because we’ve got a case that I’m sure you’ll be really interested in.”
                “Five hundred bucks says I’ll be able to solve it in ten minutes.”
A sigh penetrates the silence. “Yeah sure, whatever. If you want to give me free money then that’s your problem. Come by quick, alright?”
                “Ah, don’t worry. I’ll be right over.”
                A man finely attired in a three piece suit and an aura of fine taste is impertinently tapping and scuffling his once immaculate fine-leather dress shoes, staring at his watch while consoling a crying huddle of grieving family members. A run down, beaten up maroon Prius pulls up, with Mr. Stone wrapped in a ruffled up and stained trench coat, topped off by a 1950s era fedora. The family members flash a bewildered look, while the Lawyer reluctantly acknowledges him as a colleague.
                “Hello, the name is Detective Jacoby Stone. So what appears to be the issue here?” in a voice as sincere as he could muster. The mourning family turns from flabbergasted to enraged, with the Lawyer face-palming on the side.
                “What is the issue here? My son just fucking died! How the hell is that just an ‘issue’?”
                “Okay, I take it you’re the mom then, right? Well, can somebody please explain to me the full situation here, perchance even get a look at the crime scene or the body? Where’s Sterling anyway? I’d at least want some witness testimonial and some decent pictures of the body.”
                “Time’s a ticking Stone. You better hurry up, or you’ll be down half a grand,” mocked the Lawyer, transfixed on his watch.
                “Why, you wanna double it? I’ve still got live six minutes left.” Before the Lawyer could utter a word, Stone replied,” On second thought, I’ll just do my damn job.” A couple of police officers approach Stone, one scrawny, nervous and twitching, the other portly, callous, and clammy. “So what do we have here?”
                “Yeah Stone, we were the two officers that were pursuing the victim at the time. Me and my buddy heard a complaint from the neighbors about suspicious activity around the area, saw this kid and a few buds messing around and ordered them to vacate the premises. They then withdrew weapons on us and we were forced to use lethal force as self-defense.” recounted the portly officer. Stone scans the two, and is impelled by the agitation of the other officer.
                “So I’m taking that you were the one to kill the kid then right?” implied Stone, pointing at the intimidated policeman.
                “No, I was. I told you, it was for the safety of not only me, but my partner and those around us,” responded the portly officer.
                “Okay, so can I at least see the body and the supposed weapon that he had, then?”
                “No because the guys from the morgue already bagged and tagged him. But, the medical examiner Ms. Sterling gave us some pictures, and attested that he died the way we are trained to kill, a couple of shots to the head killing him instantly. Textbook. Also, here is the weapon in question found on the person himself.” The officer hands him a bag with a gun, and some grotesque pictures of the young man’s body with only a mangled lump as a "head".
                “I’m sorry, but the way you described the medical cause of death you almost seemed to marvel your work, as if you enjoyed killing this kid-”
                “Hey, what kind of bullshit are you trying to pull?”
                “Let me finish. Also, this weapon that you claim was found on this person. Are you sure that it is one hundred percent, without a doubt anyone else’s?”
                “Hell’s yeah I am!”
                “Just wondering because this is a police issued Glock 22, in fact I have the very same type. Now it could be possible that he somehow got this needlessly rare piece of weaponry or you shot him in cold blood and you planted this gun to cover your ass!” Stone let out a little arrogant smirk, which almost always signaled the end for even the most worthy of adversaries, let alone the perpetrator of this amateur crime.
                “How would you ever prove that obvious lie?” asked the cop in a quivered, nervous, voice, his eyes shifting, his skin drenched. Stone prowled over to him, a shark sensing the blood of his prey, anticipating the kill. The cop shuddered when Stone sniffed out his scheme so quickly, so effortlessly. How could he have known, was it that obvious?
                “Well, even if you used gloves and made sure that the kid’s fingerprints were on the gun, I am sure you had a bone to pick with this kid that we will find. Also-“ He turns to the scrawny officer, carefully examines him, and a reassuring smirk draws across his face. The same one that doomed his fellow comrade. “Hey, I know this guy probably threatened you really badly, but trust me when he is found out, I am going to personally gun for you and press charges for conspiring to kill and accessory to murder which will mean spending a good chunk of your life in jail. Or if you ‘fess up, I’ll let you go scot free, hell not even a slap in the wrist.” The cop eagerly obliged with a goofy nod, and soon, carrying his former partner into the back of a cruiser.
                “Time’s up and now it’s time to cough up… Oh bloody hell Stone!” remarked the Lawyer, seeing that he was once again defeated.
                “Don’t worry, we still have to get proof and evidence that will be accepted to court and all of that other bullshit, which I am going to let you take over. So, I guess then it is a push. Anyway, I have to go to a special meeting, and when I come back Marceau, you better have all that shit together.” Stone runs off, leaving Marceau to fully explain the situation to a still infuriated mother that only slightly calmed down.
                “Sorry, I am late. Did not mean it in the slightest. The traffic was busy and I had a hard case and”
                “You are not late at all, in fact you actually might be early,” replied Sterling calmly.
                “I thought you said 5:30, and it is half past 6?” Stone then rechecked his watch, clearly puzzled.
                “I know, I actually lied and actually came here just a few minutes ago.”
                “Whoa, wait. Hold on, what if I actually did arrive on time?” Sterling gives him her trademark glare, one that impeccably surmised her emotions every single time. “OK, good point. That’s actually not a bad idea, but still hurts me on the inside that you apparently don’t trust me being reliable.”
                “Oh yeah, I’m sure it is just eating you up. Besides Jac, you might have several good qualities, but being punctual is not one of them.”
                “Whatever. Did Marceau tell you about the case and how I solved it in like five minutes?” Stone tried to pass it off nonchalantly, but ended up in a bragging tone.
                “Yeah, he called me a few minutes ago after digging up all the facts, and as it turns out the victim was the police guy’s daughter’s boyfriend that cheated off her, and he decided to take some drastic justice and fuck up at least three lives not even counting the kid’s family. Oh yeah, he also mentioned that I should drag you to the courthouse to testify with the Jacksons.”
                “First off, there is no fucking way that I am going to court, because I am not needed. You guys have all of the evidence, motive, creative and dramatic storytelling, charm and charisma in order to book this guy. I mean it should be a slam dunk, and plus I just really fucking hate courts. Secondly, I just don’t give a fuck. And finally, who the hell are the Jacksons?”
                “The Jacksons are our clients, and we kind of need you to represent the Marceau Stone Sterling Law Firm and Private Investigation considering that you are probably the only one of us that’s actually well known.”
                “Oh I’m pretty sure that Marceau can distract and entertain his fellow soul suckers enough for you to not even miss me. Besides, I have got a lot of cases and I can’t shut down the company for one measly case.”
                “Oh that’s so cute. You think you actually have any say in the matter. Fine, if you’re going to act this way, let the grown-ups talk, but at least attend the damn thing.” A waiter comes by and brings in a couple of gigantic platters topped off with fresh lobster, filet mignon and other delicacies.
             “Wow, we’re going all out with lobster too, huh? You are freaking awesome.”
“Oh yeah, and you better make damn sure that you’re not late.”

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