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Things I Want to Drill in Alaska

posted by B on 6/13/01

If I've learned nothing else from my time on the Internet...and I haven't...I've learned that the United States cannot possibly appreciate anything. Great artist only garner critical acclaim after they die. Fantastic, original movies like "Being John Malkovich" get dicked over in the Oscars because the "Next Karate Kid" decided to make a dyke movie.

I mean, what kind of country do I live in that will take "Free Spirit" off the air after twelve episodes but can leave impossible, brutal, trash-bag horseshit like "Beverly Hills 90210" on for TEN SEASONS? I miss that good-willed nanny, and I wouldn't trade it for all the "Tiffani-Amber Theissan Gets a VD" episodes in the world.

The Arctic Wasteland gets a bad rap, man. I mean, every now and then I'll flip past PBS, and there'll be these grisly British dudes with scruffy facial hair bitching about how things are so cold, and how they can't move their legs, and all this self-serving bullcorn. You look around in the background and all you see is a blur, kinda like what happens when the cable goes out but more like the battle scene from the beginning of Empire Strikes Back. But what these cold folks don't tell you is that the world's foremost yodeling, giant-breasted folk singer was spawned from this damnable land.

Jewel's house. Seriously.

Yes, friends, the pretentious and oft-leatherclad Jewel Kilcher lists the frozen tundra as her birthplace, right before the part where she moved to the United States and lived in her car. I'm not sure if the car was made of ice, but, heh, that would be pretty freaking cool. You could drive around the streets of Southern California in the SUPER CAR OF ICE!

Jewel proves that snow and ice are more than cool names for rappers. It makes for fertile land! As of this moment in time I count the busty poet as the single sexiest human being in the entire Universe that I have never talked to on the phone. Well, okay, the sexist person I've never talked to on the phone and the sexiest person NOT to leap headfirst from the top turnbuckle. And what makes her sexy? Her mind? Her wit? Her musical ability, or her thought provoking poetry?

You geek!  Look at those things!  My God!  Jewel was born with geometrically perfect breasts. And I'm not just talking with my dong here, Those are the kind of breasts that men conquer nations for. Breasts like that are the basis of many Eastern religions. Breasts like these would cause me to sit through three or four hours of Carrot Top. Jewel seems pretty shy about them most of the time, covering them in lycra and hemp-mesh or whatever it is that hippie chicks wear. However, one of the greatest moments in recorded history involved the Grammy awards, Kevin Spacey, and a see-through dress. If you think about it Kevin Spacey and the Grammy's aren't really crucial to the point, even though I've seen Spacey's ass more than I've seen my own.

I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life.

Jewel's see-through dress made me accept Jewel's breasts into my heart as my personal saviors, and, when I die, I hope to go to Jewel's breasts.

There are two things for certain in this world when it comes to boy/girl relationships:

1. Any girl on Earth that is not obsessed with sucking Jesus' toes will sleep with the ugliest, nastiest, most repulsive long as he sells lots of drugs and will give them to her for free...


2. Guys dig chicks with baggage.

Girls with issues are not necessarily the ones who wore too much make-up and sat in the back of English class drawing pictures of themselves riding Satan-ponies either. Those girls with the Abercrombie and Fitch who stand outside in the parking lot waiting for a guy in a "phat ride" or "hooptie" as we call them are the ones with the real baggage.

For Jewel, most of the baggage involves the fact that she used to live in her car. Jewel is deeply scarred and emotionally shaped by those days, so much so that she must ramble on about them overtime she's on television. Need proof? Jewel published a book of poems entitled "A Night Without Armor," a title so clever that, almost a year after it's release I'm STILL dying with laughter.

I don't mean to discourage Jewel's fans by ignoring her musical talent. But...well... Jewel got the "Garfunkel ear" of the talent pool, unless you count whining about fragile flames and speed-yodeling as "deep." And as far as the poetry thing goes, maybe I don't appreciate Maya Angelou or something cause the only time I didn't think she was a talentless sexpot was when Stone Cold was reading her poetry. The actual poetry goes something like this.

Wow. I'm like, totally unpopular.
And maybe one day, the popular girls
in their tight jeans and translucent makeup.
And my breasts mind weeps
For I am forlorn.

See? You know it's Billy Gunn quality poetry when words like "translucent" are thrown in at places that make no sense. But when Austin read that VERY poem, it just totally kicked ass.

My name is Stone Cold Steve Austin.
Hell, son. I'm a little unpopular.
And the popular girls come out here runnin' their little mouths
'Bout how they're gonna be more popular than Stone Cold, well
UH UH I don't think so!
My name is Stone Cold Steve Austin.
What's my name?
My name is Stone Cold Steve Austin.
And that's all I got to say about that!


My name is Stone Cold Steve Austin

There are many things that are sexy about women, and speaking from an open-minded and sexually ambiguous standpoint I can scientifically list them:

1. Pig tails
2. Hockey jerseys
3. Belly rings

And though these three things are unbreakable, Jewel proves that a NEW and EXCITING sexy thing can rise above them all: the ability to yodel. And yodel WELL.

Mr. Kilcher teaches his daughter how to yodel. Also, growth hormones.

Imagine how many times you could magnify a pulse-ripping orgasm if your partner was yodeling while you did it. That would be like doin' it at the freaking CIRCUS! Trapeze, cannonballs, even the goddamn clown with the giant pants! And I'm talking GIANT pants, too! Hell yeah!

Other than that, Jewel's pretty lame. Most of her songs are about "fragile flames" or "kissing the rain" or "living in her car."

High point: Jewel's best song, by FAR, is "Pieces of You" from the album of the same name. This song breaks new and previously unheard-of ground in the field of "goofy." Sure, it'll make you pee yourself to hear Jewel belting out emotional lyrics about ugly chicks, but the REAL point of grace is when she starts breaking it down and going "FaaaaaaaaaG-GOOOOT! FaaaaaaaagoooooooOOOoot!!!!"

Watch out, Jewel's mom, if she keeps it up with all the "faggot" talk she'll end up making out with Kevin Spacey in the garage.

Jewel's unique outlook on human sexuality is one of the greatest moments in musical history. God himself couldn't think of something that hilarious.Except maybe the next verse, where she uses enough tact and understanding to melt John Denver.  "Oooh, JEeeeeeEEW....oh, JEEEEW!!!!"   I hate her music, cause it's pieces of shit.

When Jesus is talking about his eternal kingdom of Heaven in the Bible, I think he's really just talking about Jewel's boobs. I can't put into words how wonderful they are.Jewel's boobs are genetically perfect, 100% real, and are completely covered up most of the time. This makes you THAT MUCH MORE eager to see them. Think about it, do you STILL wanna see Jenny McCarthy naked? The Pope has seen Jenny McCarthy's twat more times than he's seen his own dick, that's played out and ragged. Girls should always leave a little bit to the imagination.

Jewel's boobs prove that a poor Eskimo girl who plays folk guitar, writes poetry about butterflies, and has crooked teeth can STILL make every guy on the planet want to play "Foolish Games" in her poop-shooter.

God bless Alaska. *mwah*

AIM NotAGoonie

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