How in the FUCK did they...? Why would they?... URGH!


How in the FUCK did they...? Why would they? URGH!

Every once in a long while I'll hear a story about a death, or something equally as traumatic (if not frightening to those who participate in the tale, at least alarming to me personally), that I just can't possibly fully understand with my primitive little homo sapien brain. The sequence of events that boggles my mind is either so incredible, or so incredibly and unbelievably moronic that it makes no sense. It makes. No. Sense... At least it doesn't to an individual with a higher IQ than that inbred, toothless, obese, cross-eyed, fanny-pack-wearing, unwashed dickweed who cut in front of me at Walmart last week and made me pass out from his body odor. Twice.

I'll then spend the day scoping out and Google for a more substantial source to the tale of mutilation or wonderment, and every so often (we're talking once or twice in maybe every 2 or 3 years) some scary truth will come of one of these stories, and my mind is utterly blown — like a a suicidal loser with a shotgun, an extra shell, and a toe trigger.

Recently three such accounts have come to my attention in the past few months alone! Three über tragic/comic reports of horror and "what the hell"-nes (that actually panned out beyond a made up 4chan post on /b/, or a short "article" on The Onion) have been proven as true, and made me fear for the future of humanity. Stuff even more mind numbing than the SyFy channel's typically horrid movie of the week, or their new Friday night schedule (or their Thursday night schedule... Or their Wednesday schedule. Tuesday too. And lest we forget about Monday, Sunday, and Saturday). Stuff that even Tosh.0 would look at and have no snarky comments to make because all the writers' mouths would be open in disbelief, with their eyes rolling like a pair of cheap window shades whipped open and flipping around at the top of a frame (and they already covered shit like the "What-What, In the Butt!" guy, and the "Hide yo kids, hide yo wife, and hide yo husband!" woman. Wait? That last one was a man too? Mind. Blown. Again). Anyway, humanity is doomed, heading kamikaze-like towards an Idiocracy-like future — an evolutionary dead end, stoopid peoples, blah, blah, blah.... Have you heard about that kid who died from masturbating?

The Kid Who Died From 'Batin

Okay, so this 16 year-old kid in Brazil apparently had some kind of mental issues — no big deal in and of itself (I think we all know some kid in our Sophomore year high school class whom we can compare this shlump to), but apparently one night he just went bananas and decided to go for the world record for polishing his cue stick, flogging the carrot, clearing his snorkel, etc... And he just went for it.

According to the one small article I found on the subject (which made me fear such a glorious story was false, since there was nothing else out there about it) the 16 year-old spunky lad from Rubiataba - Goias Brazil had a problem putting his pecker down. He apparently was into competitive wanking so completely that he'd make Brock Samson blush — and Brock once went 12 times in one day just to see if he could. The unnamed youth's mother is quoted as saying that she already made an appointment with a doctor to see if he could stave off her very-strong-right-armed son's impulses, but then one night at around midnight the boy decided to go for broke and get his giant statue of Jesus all hard and spewin' mad!... That was a reference to that giant Jesus statue in Rio... Sorry, but that, slums, and a psychotic addiction to futbol are all I know about Brazil and are therefore the only real cultural references I can make. Oh, and Carnival! Oh, and they speak Portuguese, not Spanglish there.

The ex-boy's mother also said that he used his millions upon millions of triple-X videos and pictures stored on his personal computer to help stimulate him for his self flogging duty. Madre de Dios! That is SO unfair! Some horny punk in a third world slum gets to have terabytes of porn in his room during puberty, and all I got was a Sears catalogue (if I got to it in time before my mom threw it away)? So fucking unfair...

Anyway, so the kid recorded himself letting the proverbial shaved weasel out of the bag, and as soon as he made his lil' soldier boy spit, he caught his breath and started charging up the hill again. I think doing this 3 times in a row counts as a "Rusty Venture," 42 times is legally a "berserker blood frenzy."

The tiny article is (thankfully, but sadly) short on any real details (beyond what I've just told you), but it does report the fact that one of the kid's female classmates paid her respects to the dead boy while a reporter was at his house. This girl made it a point to tell the (presumably laughing his ass off) reporter who wrote this thing that the expired sticky bandit had often asked her to go online and "chat" with him at midnight, presumably while only wearing nipple tassels. Wow. I barely had the balls to just ask for a girl's phone number at that age! I guess when you're just running on 100% horny testosterone loopy fury ANYTHING is possible.

Masturbating DeathThat's all we get though. There's no real cause of death listed beyond "death by 'batin." I am very curious as to how something this utterly retarded can happen! I know, I know, "chemical imbalance," obsessive-compulsive behavior, and all that clinical bullshit. No. That's not what I mean. I mean, other than going blinder than anyone has ever gone before, or getting a sore and chafed willy, how the hell does one DIE from piledriving their dinky, even to beyond excessive amounts? Deadly muscle cramps? Dehydration? Bliss? HOW DOES SOMETHING LIKE THIS HAPPEN? No doctor's or coroner's report in the article, no quote from any masturbatory professionals as to the dangers of hyper-whipping one's willy, no nothing! I want to know what kind of risks we virile lads are taking into our own hands (literally) whenever we get some hankering for some poon, but have no tang to satiate us at the moment. Was this boy's death just a fluke? A heart condition his family never got analyzed due to living in a real world shit hole? Is it just a coincidence he kicked the bucket after going 42 times in a row? Did he usually do it this much? More? What are the human limits? How much could his right arm bench press or curl?

THESE are the important questions that I'm afraid we'll never find true answers to. And not only am I more perplexed after reading about this child, but I'm scared as fuck too. Oh, I never planned on going for any world records myself, but what if MY limit is well below this kid's? I could be risking death every night of my life for all I know. Can't we take any scientists off of AIDS or cancer cures? Only a relatively small percentage of people get those, but EVERYBODY taunts their one-eyed trouser snake, or goes digging for gophers. We need answers, people! Before any more innocents die!

Anyway, next up is.....

Casey Anthony Was Acquitted of Killing Her Little Girl. ("Acquitted" means "we all know she did it, even though the jury became temporarily retarded and let her free," right?)

So this 22 year-old party girl named Casey Anthony — who had a 2 year-old daughter named Caylee (because her drunk mom was so original, or simply was stoned when signing the birth certificate and was trying to write her own name in the "name of child" field) — was tried, but freed over the charge of killing her little girl and then lying to the police about hiding evidence (and the body) and whatnot.

See, it all started off with Casey being a total whore, sleeping around with whatever man was near, and pretty much posing for pictures in which she is obviously a born attention whore who NEEDS the cock (and apparently sometimes some pussy). (See hot evidence directly below.)

Casey Anthony, mother of the year

When she was still a young, hot, incredibly stupid pup, Casey got knocked up (she never even knew who the father of her child was, and apparently she never heard of the idea of a "coat hanger") and eventually had Caylee, her adorable daughter... But that wasn't what she wanted in life (since Caylee was neither a pitcher of beer, recreational drugs, or a giant cock), and so Casey did her best to ignore her daughter in the hopes that she would just go away. And apparently her fairy godmother was listening because (GASP!) in mid-June, 2008, Caylee DID disappear! Yay Casey! Dreams do come true!!!

Anyway, I'm just going to quote Wikipedia here for what fucking happened next, because it's just so goddamn appalling:

Caylee lived with her mother, Casey, and her maternal grandparents, George and Cindy Anthony. On July 15, 2008, Caylee was reported missing to 9-1-1 by Cindy, who said she had not seen Caylee for 31 days and that Casey's car smelled like a dead body had been inside of it. She said Casey had given varied explanations as to Caylee's whereabouts and finally admitted that day that she had not seen her daughter for weeks. Casey fabricated various stories, including telling detectives the child had been kidnapped by a fictitious nanny on June 9, and that she had been trying to find her, too frightened to alert the authorities. With the child still missing, Casey was charged with first degree murder in October and plead not guilty. On December 11, Caylee's skeletal remains were found with a blanket inside a trash bag in a wooded area near the family home... The medical examiner mentioned duct tape [on or near the body's mouth and nose] as one reason she ruled the death a homicide, but officially listed it as "death by undetermined means".

The trial lasted six weeks, from May to July 2011. The prosecution sought the death penalty and alleged Casey murdered her daughter by administering chloroform, then applying duct tape, because she wanted her freedom. The defense team, led by Jose Baez, countered that the child had drowned accidentally in the family's swimming pool on June 16, 2008, and that Casey lied about this and other issues because of a dysfunctional upbringing, which they said included sexual abuse by her father. The defense did not present evidence as to how Caylee died, nor evidence that Casey was sexually abused as a child [but everything else Casey said wasn't a dumb, terrible lie, so like, everybody should believe this totally and completely... Really!], but challenged every piece of the prosecution's evidence, calling much of it "fantasy forensics" [because they didn't use super high-def surveillance cameras to zoom in on shit, high tech computers to read the composition of Caylee's stomach, and Gil Grissom to use bugs to solve the case.... My god... Juries are just getting stupider and stupider, aren't they...]. Casey did not testify during the trial.

So to make a long story short (too late), Caylee was MISSING for a month before Casey admitted she didn't know where her toddler daughter was (probably thought she was just out buying some smokes and paying for them with some BJs and got lost... Lord knows it's happened to Casey before [allegedly]); Gammy Anthony tells the cops that the inside of Casey's car smells of dead, rotting things; Casey tells cops "LOL, oh yeah, um, the nanny kidnapped mah babby... Um, WHAT nanny, you ask?.... I mean no, I mean a werewolf ated her. Oh, and don't go looking in the woods behind my home. Ignore any tiny, rotting bodies back there... I can keep partying, right?"; and they find duct tape on the skeletal remains of the child's mouth... But the defense attorneys just tell some unbelievable stories about past abuse, dysfunctionality, and death by swimming pool, without ANY evidence of their own, and Casey gets off scot free... If I ever snap and kill Jimmy Jammer, I so want this guy as my defense council.

Seriously, Caylee's skeletal remains were found ON Casey's family's property, duct tape and chloroform actually came into play — making it obvious that Caylee didn't accidentally chloroform herself, then duct tape her own nose and mouth while playing Hide and Seek — but then the greatest lawyer of all fucking time (Jose Baez) claimed that "Oh, yeah, Casey just let her daughter die in the swimming pool, and then didn't know that she had to call the authorities. So she just taped her up and dumped her in the woods. The same thing COULD HAPPEN TO ANY OF YOUS! (said while pointing ominously at jury and judge)."

The (allegedly retarded) jury then unanimously gave the verdict of "not guilty" of murder, but "guilty" of telling tiny fibs to the authorities. Casey only got a month or so of jail time for wasting an ass-ton of the police force's man hours, and when she was freed had to go into hiding because she was receiving death threats. She. Could. Not. Believe. It. WHY would anybody want her dead?! For killing her cute, innocent baby, lying about it, then getting away with it?! This is America, dammit! And if it's okay for OJ to get away with murder without being hunted down by a vicious mob, by gum it's good enough for a hot, young, white woman too!

The "What the fuck?!" that comes into play here mainly falls on the jury (though of course I'm still flabbergasted that there's enough craziness in the world for a mother to do this to her non-hideous child [ugly babies don't deserve life. God hates them, and so should you!]). Honestly, how else did we expect a bat-shit insane white broad to act in court after doing what she did? Did we expect her to actually testify against herself and point out what an evil, stupid, lying whore she was? No. We knew nobody was THAT retarded. But the jury? TWELVE fucking people all agreed "Meh, sounds like the prosecuting team is full of horse shit. Evidence? That? 400 separate pieces of forensically-collected hair samples and DNA tests? Psshaw! I have hair from a dead body that matches missing people in my trunk too. That's nothing. And who HASN'T looked up "chloroform" on the internet 84 times before their 2 year-old goes missing?... Motive? Ugh, who WOULDN'T want to party more, especially with that body?! But I've had more reason to kill my spouse and never have (that YOU know of). Nah... She's too hot to be guilty. Man, you think I have a chance to bang her after this is all done?" THEY LET HER OFF with a slap to the wrist. HOW?

Caylee AnthonySeriously, all of America saw every last second of the trial; preconceived notions or not, it was plainly obvious that the sick chick murdered her daughter, and did it sloppily and so pathetically. She even admitted to lying about EVERYTHING that happened to her daughter, knowing where she was, and how many cocks she sucked on the way to the police station (the actual number is "37")... Why did they buy her latest and most retarded tale of how her daughter died, and why she didn't report it for A WHOLE MONTH? There was no evidence to support Casey's (allegedly complete bullshit) claim, yet plenty of actual forensics evidence that supported Casey murdering the tot... Seriously, jury, you guys and gals are some of the most gullible, mentally brain damaged, battery-sucking morons I've ever heard of. And I want EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU on my jury when Jimmy Jammer ever goes missing.

Oh, and Casey totally ruined the life of one Zenaida Fernandez-Gonzalez too, by lying about her being the nanny who kidnapped and murdered her lil' Caylee to the police when the kid was first reported missing. Zenaida had never even met Casey before, but was labeled as a kidnapper and murderer, had her professional and personal life ruined (along with multiple death threats aimed at her and her large family), and never even got a "Sorry about framing you :)" card from Ms. Anthony after she was proved innocent. Classy.

And finally we have...

George Lucas Loses His Sanity, or Really, REALLY Hates His Ex-Wife

This last one (although not about death or furious masturbating) makes my head spin in impotent geek rage. Once upon a time, George "Dick Sucker" Lucas created a super fun movie called Star Wars. Well, let me rephrase that: Once upon a time George "Cock Blower" Lucas came up with an idea for a fun movie called Star Wars, but his finished version of Star Wars ended up sucking horribly, and it was looking to become yet another small turd sandwich of a forgettable sci-fi flick in the summer of 1977, until his then wife (one Marcia Lucas) took the pile of cinematic crap that George had originally edited together, and recut the entire thing virtually by herself (honestly, it's because of Marcia that Star Wars even got financed in the first place, seeing as it was her critiques of George's really godawful earlier drafts that turned something shittacular into something actually fun and entertaining), and THAT final product became a super fun movie.

What's that? You've never heard of Marcia Lucas' hand in the creation of Star Wars? You didn't know that it was her idea to have Obi-Wan die, or it was her cut of two different runs down the Death Star's trench footage into one actually exciting scene that actually made the ending memorable? You thought it was all George's brainchild and babby from beginning to end?.... Didn't the prequels (when it was George alone for the first time, with no other writers or directors and only "yes men" editors) tip you off that he had NO FUCKING IDEA what he was doing with Star Wars, let alone filmmaking in general? But I digress.

Let me back up on this segment before heading into Lucas marital territory. I (along with the entire global Star Wars fandom community) am APPALLED that Lucas keeps going back and fucking with his (and our) precious Star Wars movies (the ones that count, the original trilogy). In 1988 George Lucas made a pretty big speech (to the fucking US CONGRESS!) talking about the horrors of being able to alter movies in the future — using technology not yet available, but on the foreseeable horizon. He talks of making characters in iconic and classic films say things that they didn't originally say, removing or adding people from scenes, or adding special effects that were not there to begin with. He calls these possibilities "horrors" and abominations to cinema... What could make a man change his mind so completely? Why would he then turn around and fuck up his own vintage and beloved films with shoddy CGI and extended sequences that NOBODY ever wanted (like Han shooting after Greedo, an extended shitty dance number in Jabba's palace, and most recently [on the Blu-ray release of the movies] changing Vader's choice of making a quiet and heartfelt decision of throwing his emperor into a chasm to save his son into that of a sobbing baby who just can't stop shouting out "No! Noooooooooooo!")? What went wrong with George's head?! The answer is of course a woman. One woman named Marcia.

Okay, now I can move forward again and tell you all about George and Marcia's highly publicized and brutal divorce in 1983.

Marcia Lucas HATES Georgie-porgieThe disintegration of the awkward-from-the-start Lucas marriage was about 95% George's fault. Instead of starting a family, like he promised he would with Marcia after the whole Star Wars thing was over, he threw his whole existence into The Empire Strikes Back, Raiders, and the creation and development of Skywalker Ranch and all its subsidiaries (including ILM and THX Sound). He ignored Marcia, who at that time wasn't picking up any new big editing jobs (despite being a huge commodity after her Oscar win for editing Star Wars), so that she and George could start humping and making children. Well, it turned out that George was sterile anyway (so that neck beard thing will never be genetically passed on), but they did eventually adopt a baby girl as a last ditch effort to keep a fake family facade up for the public. But then came Return of the Jedi, and George left Marcia alone with the child while he ran off to London to "help" Richard Marquand direct it (according to most people on the set, Lucas mainly just pushed Marquand around and forced more teddy bear-like Ewoks in the final product "for the kids." Because he's retarded). Marcia's official job at this time was to decorate Skywalker Ranch. Yeah. Not chauvinistic at all.

Okay, this history lesson is getting long (though it's still interesting, no?), but the whole point is that while George had been ignoring Marcia for years, and promised to help raise a family with her, he then once again abandoned her to play director in a foreign country, half a world away. Marcia though, was clinically depressed, and found that she was falling in love with an artist hired to make the Ranch look muy suave. To her credit she never did any hanky panky with the man, but it was a total indication that she no longer loved the cold fish known as George, and was in fact still alive and desirable (honestly, pictures of Marcia from the early 80s show her to be quite attractive, in an 80s-fashion sort of way).

George then freaked when he heard that Marcia and this artist were hanging out quite a bit (noticing too late that being away from your depressed family for 6 months at a time was a bad thing for familial morale), so he hired Marcia to edit Jedi for him. (Actually, the writer of Jedi told George to hire her as George was TOO FUCKING DUMB to think of this on his own.) THIS is probably what saved Jedi from becoming total shit. Marcia is credited for the scenes with drama in them (Yoda's death, anything with Vader and the Emperor and Luke, Vader's death, and the space battle), but unfortunately her pleas to reshoot the Ewoks with Wookiees in their places fell on deaf ears, as George was busy shoving a giant black rubber dick in both his ears while humming "The Humpty Dance" (no, that last sentence is a lie... Well, it may be true, but it's never been documented. I like to think it's true though, as it would explain a whole helluva lot).

After all this Marcia (and only Marcia) tried to save their doomed marriage. She offered marriage counsellors and a trial separation, but George refused by sticking out his tongue and making farting noises with his arm pits. They got divorced in mid 1983, and Marcia virtually faded away from the public life.... with around $50MILLION of the Star Wars money (most of George's fortune at the time), and stakes in anything to do with any re-releases of the movies (I'm guessing with a clause for home video releases as well, even though that market was in its embryonic form at the time). She legally held half of ILM, and pretty much said "Fuck you, George" as a parting shot to the last few miserable years she gave up for him. Marcia soon got married to a nice guy, birthed him a natural daughter (which totally pissed off the flabby bearded one), and pretty much never really spoke of her life previous again... Except for one rare interview for a book in 1997 (when the "Special Editions" of the Star Wars trilogy were coming out). Here's a quote of Marcia getting all pissy, just like George (in his many ranting interviews about their divorce): "He never felt I had any talent, he never felt I was very smart and he never gave me much credit. When we were finishing Jedi, George told me he thought I was a pretty good editor. In the sixteen years of our being together I think that was the only time he complimented me." George has since had Marcia almost entirely removed from all documentaries about him, his company, or his movies after 1983 — all her quotes and her importance to editing and scene additions, as well as her support as his WIFE.

Now, below you will learn my thoughts as to why a man of such convictions AGAINST film altering and re-editting would fuck with his own movies in such shitty ways.

Because Marcia and George were a married couple and a team at the start of the Star Wars trilogy all the way till its end, it's rumored that the divorce settlement included a GIANT cut of Star Wars' future moneys for Marcia. The loophole that George apparently found to keep from having to pay her for every new DVD or Blu-ray release was that if he added scenes and special effects (no matter how UNspecial they really were) to his classic movies, they were no longer officially something Marcia had claim to in the settlement, and therefore she was cut from their future profits. That's right! George is supposedly pissing off the ENTIRE WORLD with his stupid, lame, unnecessary, and unwanted changes to his beloved Star Wars movies just to spite a woman he once loved (and arguably the one person who made him who he was). It was Marcia's ideas and editing that made George's first success (American Graffiti) such a hit (and them both millionaires), and those who worked with them both on the original Star Wars (actors, production heads, studio people) all agree that although George had the original story idea, it was Marcia who gave the movie heart and made it exciting. And as we know by his earlier drafts George's original story idea was pretty shitty too, until Marcia put in her two cents. But whatever. My point is that they divorced more bitterly than Kramer and Kramer (think "Hitler divorcing Barbra Streisand" — once she admitted that not only was she Jewish, but a man from the Brooklyn — for a terrible simile), and now the whole world is suffering because George doesn't know how to vent his anger in any constructive way. Instead he turns Darth Vader into a whiny little cunt who has to verbally say "No! NOOOOOOOO!" all the time, when before he just emitted a sense of silent bad-assery.

As somebody in the Fark forums pointed out (sorry, too lazy to look up who): "Every frame of [the original Star Wars movies] that Lucas amputates, so he can retrofit some 'improvement' into place just devalue[s] them further, and further. It's also kind of an insult to the people who put so much time and effort in, only to have their hard work replaced in some desperate bid to remain current, trendy and cutting-edge." And the new CGI shit Lucas puts in isn't even GOOD. The effects stick out like a sore thumb painted purple with fifty piercings on it, instead of doing their job (like FX are meant to do) and BLENDING IN SEAMLESSLY with the rest of the movie. I hate you, George Lucas. The whole planet does too. Please revisit your OWN GODDAMN SPEECH from 1988 and stop being such a douche. Give the fans what they want (which is the RIGHT thing to do as well)... Give us unfucked-with versions of your original movies as you originally made them. The prequels? Fuck, do with them as you will (I can't watch them again without laughing my ass off at your total incompetence anyway thanks to Plinkett's extended and glorious reviews), just leave us the original trilogy.

Oh, and you know how George always talks about Indiana, his beloved Alaskan malamute that inspired Chewbacca and Dr. Jones' name? Yeah, that was Marcia's dog, not his. He's so full of shit.

What Have We Learned?

Nothing. This whole article was pointless. I thought I made it clear from the beginning that absolutely NOTHING would be answered in this thing; it was just filled with questions about HOW some of the world's stupidest shit could happen, with no real goddamn reasons given as any sort of excuse. Except in George Lucas' case. Because he's a partially retarded half-shaved Sasquatch who likes to shove his fingers up his anus and then sniff them whenever he thinks nobody's looking.

Stupid shit happens, and we just have to deal with it. What more do you want from me? I don't have any answers to anything other than "Why did I bang that hot redhead last night and then give her Jimmy Jammer's phone number in the morning?" The answer to that one is because my beer goggles hid the fact that she had a penis.

The only point (if there truly is one) to this thing is that stupid things will continue to happen, people will always ask "how for did this happens?!" and life will continue to go on... Until Lucas makes one too many changes to his beloved movies and enrages some waterhead at a fan convention, who then (with his retard strength) puts Lucas into a bear hug and crushes him to death before the Lucasfilm bodyguards can pry his arms apart. Then life won't continue to go on for poor George (but he'll have no one to blame but himself).

NOTES from the Editor: I really don't see what the big deal is with making a muppet computer generated, or making Han Solo shoot only after getting shot at. So what if Anakin's ghost is the only one that's allowed to be young at the end of Jedi? I'm just totally concerned about that boy who died pleasuring himself... Is this something we all have to fear? How much is too much? Is it okay if I just pay some hobo in a back alley to do it for me? That's got to be safe, no? Dammit! So many unanswered questions!

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