do you people really have so little going on in your own lives that you have to create daily, unneeded drama, for your own sub-conscience entertainment? i mean, really. all this, he said, that i said, what she said, when you said, that she said, what he said,… needs to fucking stop. it’s out of control. y’all need to find something more constructive to do with your time, and shut the fuck up. go read a book. go for a walk. go listen to a new album. hell, go write a hypocritical blog, for all i care. because we all know the second you stop bitching about all the drama going on in your pointless little life, you’re gonna walk over to the couch, sit down and turn on some shitty reality television show, filled with drama. so, that way, when you run out of dramatic material about your own life, you can discuss all the drama going on in someone else’s life. well, you know what? fuck you, i hate you.
if i didn’t have to listen to you bitch about how unfair i’m being, and i didn’t have to hear about all the people that deserve it so much than you do because of all the nasty things they say and do… all… the…. way… there,… i would drag your ass all the way to pig farm and happily feed you to the pigs.
seriously, i did not spend 600 dollars to sit next to some morbidly obese person for 4 hours, while soaring 30,000 feet in the air, in a hollow piece of steel. i’m not alone here. ask anyone. “have ever almost died on a plane?”. “no, not really, but one time, i sat next to a really really fat guy and i wanted to die.” see what i’m saying? you take up my, already non-existent, space,… you sweat,… you smell bad,… you apparently have lost all control of your bodily functions, and some part of you is constantly touching me. eww. no, i don’t think obese people should be forced to buy two seats, i think they should have to buy the whole fucking row because if you’re the person that needs two seats, then i REALLY don’t want to sit next to you, even if i have space.
if this plane even gets off the ground, i’ll be sure it gets re-routed to the nearest pig farm, so you can be the main course of a pig feeding.
If you think you are seeing Brody, look at what he's wearing, and if it's remotely as douchey as this...it is absolutely him.
So today, I’m hanging out with my buddy. We decide to go up to the Valley to go bowling. Like you do on Thursday afternoons. We’re having a great time. Game after game, our friendship is growing deeper. I win one, he wins four. But that’s not important. It’s just great, when who walks in? Brody fuckin’ Jenner and one of his infamous bros. What are they here to do? Fucking bowl. Wish that was an original thought BROS. I wasn’t actually sure if it was him or not. I mean, I don’t know a lot about the guy, but I know he’s rich, and he’s famous. So, naturally that tells me, he wouldn’t be dressing like a total dick. But, oh no, not Brody. He comes in wearing long saggy black Dickie shorts, and just a t-shirt. With a fashion train wreck like that, I thought, “Surly, it’s not him.” But L and B, it totally was him.
So, here I am with my bro, having a straight-date, as we call them, thinking that we’ve, in some minor capacity, made it. Simply because we can go bowling in the Valley on a Thursday afternoon. And then Brody and his bro have to come in to do the same exact thing. And make us realize, that they are not just bowling on a Thursday afternoon in the Valley because they can. They are probably being paid thousands to go bowling on a Thursday afternoon in the Valley. That is what really just chaps my ass. We probably bowl way better than them too.
Brody, you can get the hell out of here, and go give brojobs to all your bros, because you’re being fed to the pigs.
Connected, huh? Then why can't I browse the fucking internet!?
Wireless internet. You are such a little bitch, because you are necessary for my existence as a 21st century young man. I need you, I depend on you. How else do you suggest I check my Facebook several times an hour?! People need to know what I am doing right now. They don’t ask that question for nothing you know. But, you, in all your mighty power just toy with me. You say I am connected, you sit there with your full bars at the top right-hand corner of my screen telling me, “Go ahead and browse the internet buddy, there won’t be a problem.” Yet when I open up Safari, to check my email for the fourth time this morning, you spit in my face and give me your ever insulting “Failed to open” page.
Why are you so devious? Why are you so hateful? Why can you not just be more reliable for once. I know I’m stealing you from next door, but that should not compromise what we have. You just need to be everywhere I am, at any given point. Is that so much to ask?
So, wireless internet, for your noncompliance and flakiness, I feed you to the pigs!
this video made me mad. then, i started laughing,… a lot. then, i got mad all over again. these are the famous people representing hollywood, and even more than that, they’re representing our country. these are the people our youth look to, the people our youth try to imitate and strive to be like. if i didn’t know any better i would think these are 2 fourth graders learning how to conduct an interview for the first time. how are you people famous? if i met someone like one of you on the street and you tried to talk to me like that, you would be the laughing stock of my life for the next 4-6 months. my friends and i would share a frequent laugh over how dumb you are. i almost don’t even believe you’re a real person. you can barely speak in complete sentences. i think you really showed your maturity level when, towards the end of the interview, the two of you openly planned a play date. they grow up so quickly, don’t they?
if we were left alone in the wilderness, first, you’d get a people’s elbow in your twice-fixed “deviated septum”, then the pigs would have their way with you.
Wanna join a fucking cult?! Wanna use a worthless stupid piece of shit?!! Then buy a SNUGGIE!!!!
Snuggie, you are the epitome of bullshit consumer ploys to take my money for something that has no use, other than performing group sacrifices or wiping my ass. Is a blanket really that insufficient for you? That you have to go ahead and order a fucking fleece cloak. Oh, but it comes in THREE different colors?!
BUT OH MY GOD!!! LOOK AT ALL THE THINGS YOU CAN DO WITH THE SNUGGIE :
- ANSWER FUCKING PHONE CALLS
- USE A PIECE OF SHIT PC ON YOUR LAP
- HAVE A FAMILY CAMP FIRE AND COOK STUPID SMORES
- GROUP SUICIDE
- BE A TOTAL ASS CLOWN
And so much more. Oh and if you thought this life altering concept of a necessity wasn’t shitty enough, to sweeten the deal, they throw in some reading lights! Yeah, because reading is another one of those things you can’t do with a no good old normal blanket. But with a Snuggie, forget about it!
Snuggie, you and your perfect example of just how far off the deep end our society has gone, are being fed to the goddamn pigs!
Anne Coulter, you are worse than the Crusades. You are worse than the Inquisition. And suffice it to say, you make Ted Haggard’s homo sex scandal look like a good career move. I have never heard one thought of yours that I would say lines up with the Bible. Your worldview is one of the most inept versions of self comfort I’ve ever seen. If I was a Christian, I would tell people not to be one because it’s just too much fucking work to explain to people that you are out of your mind.
You are filled with irrational hate and fear. But I am full of more hate. For you. The only reason your books do so well is because our country is fascinated with skinny bitches with outrageous opinions who think they are the shit. Is that so hard to believe.
Anne Coulter, there is no blog hateful enough to contain the amount necessary for you. Therefore, I’m just going to feed your frail skeleton-like frame to those starving, starving pigs.
you are the bastard of society. we all know you exist, but we try to sweep you under a rug and turn a blind eye. psychologically, does this post actually come from a place of jealousy? maybe. but, i hate you so much, it’s hard to tell. you’re thumbs are callused, your hair is unwashed and you play video games for a living. i couldn’t think of a more useless use for a human being. you, sir, are a definitive waste of space. what kind of example are you setting for children? God knows, if my kids even joke about becoming pro gamers, i will rip that machine out of the wall so fast and we’ll go build a fire using an x-box as kindling,… as a family, because that’s what good parents do. what happens when you turn 30? when the games have changed, the technology is different and you’ve spent your winnings on pay-per-view porno? then what?
oh wait! i have a new game for you! here,… you stand right here, while i feed you to the fucking pigs.
Why the hell do you go by Sherbert? There is no R between the E and the T in your name, and yet you insist that we all call you Sherbert! Those of us who call you by your real name, Sherbet, come off as yuppie or French, 2 groups of people nobody wants to be associated with.
All you are good for is making fat people feel good about themselves when they eat you. You have all your postmodern flavors like “Superman” or “Orange”, but I see right through you Sherbet. You live in the shadow of ice cream, and you hate it. You’ve always wanted to eclipse ice cream, but you know it isn’t possible. Nobody likes you except for little kids (who don’t know the difference), people in nursing homes (who aren’t coherent), or fat people who claim to be on a diet.
Sherbet, are you a homosexual? I don’t mean to pry, but when I google image searched your name, “sherbet” this is what I found. Weird. If you want to come out of the closet, any time would be fine. Most of this world already has a very low opinion of you, and maybe this would improve it with some circles.
You are a mistake, Sherbet, and I would feed you to the pigs.
let’s all be honest with ourselves, this one was inevitable.
you hit rihanna. what the fuck was going through head??? oh, hey, look, that’s one of the prettiest faces in the world, i think i’m gonna hit it with a closed fist. i don’t care if she called your dead mama a c-bomb, you don’t hit rihanna in the grill. i mean, rule number one, if you’re gonna hit a girl, you hit her in the stomach,… the stomach doesn’t bruise, chris,… common knowledge. next, take a note or two from nick carter, just grab her real hard and even if she bruises just keep that bitch locked up til she heals. but in the face?! i guess you can take the man out the ghetto, but can’t take the ghetto out the man.
it’s not just because you hit a girl, but also, you’re just a fucktard, so i’m feeding you to the pigs.
submit your pig feeding and once a week we'll choose the best entry to adorn our blog. in the post, we will use only your first name and the city you live in, please attach a picture and any other info you would like to have included. the writer of each chosen entry will receive an official "feedhimtothepigs" t-shirt.
![[Post to Twitter]](http://www.feedhimtothepigs.com/wp-content/plugins/tweet-this/icons/tt-twitter.png){kind=icon}
