Blog | The Georgetown Heckler

People say that money makes the world go round, but if you drink enough of them, beer cans also make the world go round.

People say that money makes the world go round, but if you drink enough of them, beer cans also make the world go round.

Alpacas On A Lawnmower

Possums On A Skateboard

Ferrets On A Rocketship

Lakes On A Plain

Motherfuckers On A Motherfucker (Just imagine: “Get these motherfuckin’ motherfuckers off my motherfuckin’ motherfucker!”)

Alpacas On A Lawnmower

Possums On A Skateboard

Ferrets On A Rocketship

Lakes On A Plain

Motherfuckers On A Motherfucker (Just imagine: “Get these motherfuckin’ motherfuckers off my motherfuckin’ motherfucker!”)

Another blow to the traditional family values that the Georgetown Heckler has always tried to uphold. Brace yourselves ladies and gentlemen, Lance Bass, former member of the all boys group ‘N Sync…is gay. That’s right, it’s official. He has come out of the closet. You may remember Lance as the ‘N Sync boy who attempted to become an astronaut several years ago. It seems now, though, he has decided to fill another black, vacuous, empty space. Who would have thought a high pitched, singing, dancing sissy would turn out to be gay? Certainly not us here at the Heckler. I mean, look at this picture. Look at it! Does that look like a gay man to you? I’m scared. Real scared. Cause if it could happen to Lance, it could happen to anyone. A real loss for all the ladies out there. On the bright side, us men finally have a shot at him. Not that we’d want it, but…if we were gay…even though we’re not…he’s hot…in a straight way…I would bone him. Remember, it’s not gay if you close your eyes and then deny it/admit you didn’t like it/marry Katie Holmes.

In other HomoNews, Ann Coulter, America’s favorite crazy person, announced last night in an MSNBC interview that she believes President Clinton is a “latent homosexual.” I think she may have a point here. After all, what’s gayer than getting head from a woman in the oval office? I certainly can’t think of anything. I would let Lance Bass ram me in the ass long before I ever received oral “pleasure” (if you can even call it that) from a woman. You know why? Cause I’m not gay. I don’t even own a closet, so even if I desperately wanted to come out of it, I wouldn’t be able to. That’s what real men do.

Lance, call me. Please. I’m lonely.

Another blow to the traditional family values that the Georgetown Heckler has always tried to uphold. Brace yourselves ladies and gentlemen, Lance Bass, former member of the all boys group ‘N Sync…is gay. That’s right, it’s official. He has come out of the closet. You may remember Lance as the ‘N Sync boy who attempted to become an astronaut several years ago. It seems now, though, he has decided to fill another black, vacuous, empty space. Who would have thought a high pitched, singing, dancing sissy would turn out to be gay? Certainly not us here at the Heckler. I mean, look at this picture. Look at it! Does that look like a gay man to you? I’m scared. Real scared. Cause if it could happen to Lance, it could happen to anyone. A real loss for all the ladies out there. On the bright side, us men finally have a shot at him. Not that we’d want it, but…if we were gay…even though we’re not…he’s hot…in a straight way…I would bone him. Remember, it’s not gay if you close your eyes and then deny it/admit you didn’t like it/marry Katie Holmes.

In other HomoNews, Ann Coulter, America’s favorite crazy person, announced last night in an MSNBC interview that she believes President Clinton is a “latent homosexual.” I think she may have a point here. After all, what’s gayer than getting head from a woman in the oval office? I certainly can’t think of anything. I would let Lance Bass ram me in the ass long before I ever received oral “pleasure” (if you can even call it that) from a woman. You know why? Cause I’m not gay. I don’t even own a closet, so even if I desperately wanted to come out of it, I wouldn’t be able to. That’s what real men do.

Lance, call me. Please. I’m lonely.

Big, big news people. The picture you are looking at is me holding my official, authoritative copy of Snakes On A Plane: The Novel. That’s right, you heard me. I was in Barnes and Nobles today perusing the existentialists and getting a hard on, when I came across this masterful work of art. Immediately I knew it was the eighth wonder of the world. Fuck off Colosseum because this is 405 pages of wet your panties Snakes On A Plane In A Book action. Hold onto your booklights cause this “novelization,” is pure dyn-o-mite! If I may be so kind as to share a random selection I came across just opening the book:

“When snakes fell out of the ceiling, Curtis and Tommy tried to hide in the narrow space between two seats where feet normally go. Curtis was really too tall to completely fit so he tried to squeeze himself into as small a space as possible. He could feel Tommy’s body pressed up against his back, shivering. Curtis could see a guy lying on the ground in the aisle not more than a foot away and though he couldn’t be completely sure, Curtis thought maybe the guy was dead. Not dead like in the movies where he would just get up and go have some coffee as soon as the director said cut, but really forever dead like Grandma Cooper and Tommy’s goldfish and Tupac Shakur. There was also a lady throwing up in the seat across the aisle. A snake had bitten her on the neck just like Dracula and she was puking all over herself and banged her head on the wall, the window, and the seat in front of her…Curtis liked horror movies and gory video games…Tommy was way more sensitive. He couldn’t watch nature shows because he felt sorry for the gazelles when the lions ate them. He even felt bad when villains died on TV and not just the big boss villain but the henchman too. In short, Tommy was a big pussy” (196-197).

Holy fucking shit that was intense prose. How is this not required reading in high school already? This may seem bold, but I’m just gonna go out there and say it. Given what I’ve read so far, which is just that passage and the author bio, I think we’re looking at the next great American novel. Fuck Hemingway, fuck Fitzgerald, fuck Salinger, cause Christa Faust just bit their fucking heads off and digested them whole. As long as we’re on the subject, I think it’s important that you learn about the next great American writer, Christa Faust. “Born in New York City in 1969, Christa Faust…has a fondness for vintage high heels and Mexican wrestling.” I will marry this woman. She is also the author of Final Destination 3: The Novel. I can’t even believe how awesome this woman is. She is such a great writer, that she doesn’t even need to think of plots. She just takes shitty movies and “novelizes” them. I bet you’re sitting there right now fisting yourself over how stupid you were to not come up with this idea first. Too bad, because Christa Faust already did it. Anyone could have done it, but she did do it, and for that I thank her and declare her an American hero. Go out and buy this book unless you want the terrorists to win.

Big, big news people. The picture you are looking at is me holding my official, authoritative copy of Snakes On A Plane: The Novel. That’s right, you heard me. I was in Barnes and Nobles today perusing the existentialists and getting a hard on, when I came across this masterful work of art. Immediately I knew it was the eighth wonder of the world. Fuck off Colosseum because this is 405 pages of wet your panties Snakes On A Plane In A Book action. Hold onto your booklights cause this “novelization,” is pure dyn-o-mite! If I may be so kind as to share a random selection I came across just opening the book:

“When snakes fell out of the ceiling, Curtis and Tommy tried to hide in the narrow space between two seats where feet normally go. Curtis was really too tall to completely fit so he tried to squeeze himself into as small a space as possible. He could feel Tommy’s body pressed up against his back, shivering. Curtis could see a guy lying on the ground in the aisle not more than a foot away and though he couldn’t be completely sure, Curtis thought maybe the guy was dead. Not dead like in the movies where he would just get up and go have some coffee as soon as the director said cut, but really forever dead like Grandma Cooper and Tommy’s goldfish and Tupac Shakur. There was also a lady throwing up in the seat across the aisle. A snake had bitten her on the neck just like Dracula and she was puking all over herself and banged her head on the wall, the window, and the seat in front of her…Curtis liked horror movies and gory video games…Tommy was way more sensitive. He couldn’t watch nature shows because he felt sorry for the gazelles when the lions ate them. He even felt bad when villains died on TV and not just the big boss villain but the henchman too. In short, Tommy was a big pussy” (196-197).

Holy fucking shit that was intense prose. How is this not required reading in high school already? This may seem bold, but I’m just gonna go out there and say it. Given what I’ve read so far, which is just that passage and the author bio, I think we’re looking at the next great American novel. Fuck Hemingway, fuck Fitzgerald, fuck Salinger, cause Christa Faust just bit their fucking heads off and digested them whole. As long as we’re on the subject, I think it’s important that you learn about the next great American writer, Christa Faust. “Born in New York City in 1969, Christa Faust…has a fondness for vintage high heels and Mexican wrestling.” I will marry this woman. She is also the author of Final Destination 3: The Novel. I can’t even believe how awesome this woman is. She is such a great writer, that she doesn’t even need to think of plots. She just takes shitty movies and “novelizes” them. I bet you’re sitting there right now fisting yourself over how stupid you were to not come up with this idea first. Too bad, because Christa Faust already did it. Anyone could have done it, but she did do it, and for that I thank her and declare her an American hero. Go out and buy this book unless you want the terrorists to win.

Hookers are a lot like Chinese food. If you leave the remains in the fridge for over a month, your whole apartment starts to smell. Try to find a better place for storage, like a furnace or a six foot deep pit I dug in my neighbor’s backyard.

Hookers are a lot like Chinese food. If you leave the remains in the fridge for over a month, your whole apartment starts to smell. Try to find a better place for storage, like a furnace or a six foot deep pit I dug in my neighbor’s backyard.