All Praise is due to Allah

By Osama Bin Laden,
Guest Columnist







All praise is due to Allah, who built the heavens and the earth in justice, and created man as a favor and grace from HIm. And from His ways is that the days rotate between the people, and from His Law is retaliation in kind: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth and the killer is killed. And all praise is due to Allah, who awaked His slaves' desire for the Garden, and all of them will enter it except those who refuse. And whoever obeys Him alone in all of his affairs will enter the Garden, and whoever disobeys Him will have refused.

As for what comes after: Peace be upon he who follows the Guidance. People of America: I shall be speaking to you on important topics which concern you, so lend me your ears. I begin by discussing the war which is between us and some of its reparcussions for us and you.

To preface, I say: despire America being the greatest economic power and possessing the most powerful and up-to-date miltary arsenal as well: and despite it spending on this war and its army more than the entire world spends on its armies; and despite its being the being the major state influencing the policies of the world, as if it has a monopoly on the unjust right of veto; despire all of this, 19 young men were able -- by the grace of Allah, the Most High -- to change the direction of its compass. And if fact, the subject of the Mujahideen has become an inseparable part of the speech of your leader, and the effects and signs of that are not hidden.

Since the 11th, many of America's policies have come under the influence of the Mujahideen, and that is by the grace of Allah, the Most High. And as a result, the people discovered the truth about it, its reputation worsened, its prestige was broken globally and it was bled dry economically, even our interests overlap with the interests of the major corporations and also with those of the neoconservatives, despite the differeng intentions.

As for your information media, LMAODGZ excluded, during the first years of the war, loast its credibility and manifested itself as a tool of the colonialist empires, and its condition has often been worse than the condition of the media of the dictatorial regimes which march in the caravan of the single leader.

Then Bush talks about his working with al-Maliki and his government to spread freedom in Iraq, but he in fact is working with the leaders of one sext against another sect, in the belief that this will quickly decide the war in his favor.

And thus, what is called the civil war came into being and matters worsened at his hands before getting out of his control and him becoming like the one who plows and sows the sead he harvests nothing but failure.

And now Americans, let me conclude this first part of a series of six by showing you what America could be, if only it tried. Here is a dog, with two legs, who has learned to walk on like a human. America, Allah willing, you one day will recognize that, like all nations, you have only two legs, and then you will learn to like an incredibly cute human. The dog's name is Faith, and may Allah's glory be upon Montel for finding her.

Those classic songs you can't get out of your head, but can't remember the name or lyrics of

By Frank Ramus,

Wealthy Gadabout

If you're anything like me, you host parties nearly every weekend. When you're not hosting or preparing for a party, you watch lots of VH1, to stay up to date on the current fads and fashions.

But isn't it the worst! I'm always watching the 'mmercials, as my wife Barb and I call them, and I hear a tune that I just can't stop wistling in my head! Here's an example:

In case you were wondering, the song in the background is "Hey You! (The Rock Steady Crew)." You can thank me later!

Anyway folks, I got to thinking, wouldn't it be 'cool' if someone on the internet posted the beats to songs, so that other folks could search for the beats in a google search and find out what song they're looking for? This idea gave me an enormous erection. So I got right to work. Here are some songs from commercials that I've spent some time looking up in the past, along with their crescendoing back beats. You can thank me later!

• "Ba dah dah, ba duh duh, ba dahh dahh, dah dahh duh, dahh du duhh" -- The song you are looking for is ACDC's "Highway to Heaven"!
• "Dohm. Be de de, be de de, be de daoi" -- The song you are looking for is OMC's "How Bizarre"!
• "BEH DUHN! de de de de BEH DUHN! de de de de" -- The song you are looking for is Journey's "Anyway You Want It"!
• "De De Duh Duh De De Duh Duh Duh" -- The song you are looking for is Foreigner's "Cold as Ice"
• Be deh, Be de deah duhh, be deh, be de deah duhh, YEAH!" -- The song you are looking for is the B52's "Love Shack"!

That's all I have time for at the moment, friends. But rest assured, I will post more next week! You can thank me later!

Mcnuggets in the Sky with Diamondz

written by Mexican_Guy_15, sensationalist and local pedophile


There's a potential prop bet in the making that has the possibility of being very entertaining.



The bet: Whether or not I can eat 100 chicken Mcnuggets in 2 hours.

This is an incredible amount of chicken Mcnuggets. Now, there are a plethora of videos on YouTube of people eating outrageous amounts of Mcnuggets, but no one ate more than 70. They also made many critical mistakes that ultimately hindered their eating ability.


Here's my plan:

1) Smoke weed. I normally don't smoke pot because I tend to binge eat when I do. Last time I smoked, I ate 2 bags of Doritos by myself. As far as I know, none of the YouTube Mcnugget challenge participants were high before they started eating.

2) Eat as many Mcnuggets as possible without the aid of barbecue sauce. I think this is critical to the completion of the Mcnugget challenge. Not only would the spices upset my stomach, but if I were to dip every Mcnugget in barbecue sauce before I ate it, I'd essentially be ingesting half a bottle of barbecue sauce along with the 100 Mcnuggets. One asshole was even dipping his Mcnuggets in a Mcflurry. What an amateur.

3) Smoke weed again. No vomiting is allowed. If i vomit, I lose. I figure if I eat the first 30 or 40 without barbecue sauce, I can make it the rest of the way by masking the disgusting flavor that will inevitably occur as I hit the mid-way point. I heard that after 15 or so, they start tasting like tuna. I just hope I don't get a batch of nasty Mcnuggets that have a bunch of strange dark spots in them like they sometimes do.

Video will be posted soon.

Check back.

Bitches.

Baby Shambles and Dizzee Rascal? Please don't play me like a bitch

by Fred Bundy, staff writer

Baby Shambles and Dizzee Rascal Tour together?
NO ONE UNDERSTANDS A FUCKING WORD THE ENTIRE TIME!

No, but in all seriousness who thinks that this could be a good idea? Obviously Pete Doherty can write a good pop song, but no one can agree on the pronounciation of his last name. And when you hit a bump like that, success is never coming your way (see Johnny Weissmuller, Ida Lupino and/or Johnny Damon).
I have no beef with his drug habits. Everyone has to get off somehow, and if it's selling needles to minors while in rehab, let him have it. But when is he going to make his fucking mind up on his last name. One week it's Dokerty and the next it's Doority. The latter obviously makes more sense, but then you start to think, (which is a dangerous exercise I advise avoiding if at all possible) "What if it's one of those backwards British English things? You know how they call an elevator the 'lift.' Maybe the 'h' iiiissss supposed to sound like a 'k'." And by the time you've thought through all of this, Pete has gone through thirty rails the size of Elton John's crack and he's completely changed his name to something like Dizzay Raskal. He's stopped doing pop and moved in on the grime scene. At night he wears black face and oversized denim yelling at kids and invoking dances that look more fit for the bedroom than a stage. The only way you can really tell it's him is from the track marks that show up under the sleeves of his throwback jersey or the powder mixed with blood that occasionally drips out of his nose.
So how does the industry cope with his fits? They book a tour supposedly based on two seperate people. However --- HOWEVER --- us at LMAODOGZ know that Pete "CoKing" Doherty is in fact Dizzee Rascal. There's no doubt in my mind pardner, they are one in the same. Proof, you ask?





This is Pete in his normal attire.
(note the white shirt.)












This is the only known photo of "Dizzee." Weird that his face is covered up, huh? Also wearing a white shirt like Pete (above).

HMMMMM??




The problem is not that they could (sic) ARE the same person, but that the record industry is going to try and sell this as a double bill. When in fact it is just one person with two personalities. Maybe you aren't quite sold by my cold hard facts. Maybe you think there is a chance that Pete and Dizzee aren't the same. Good. Whatever, my mom is coming to pick me up so your chance to argue is over. I WIN!

First Time Lindsay, a Second Time Lindsay, a Third Time Lindsay as Well, but Now Matthew Roloff Has a DUI Too!!!

written by Tom DeHeely, gossip columnist


Who? It is just a disgrace when a drunk father makes a mistake. Mark Roloff plays himself as the real life father of three on the TLC hit reality series, “Little People, Big World”. The show revolves around the kooky antics of a MIDGET family (Note: I place the word “midget” in bold and all caps in order to be considerate and sensitive to God’s unique creed). Mark is the 45-year poppa Smurf who has been hiding a big secret, which is that he got a DUI back on June 19.
All this reporter has to say is smoo-oo-oo-ooth move, MIDGET DAD, smooth move. You think we would all learn a thing or two from Miss Lohan, or even Mel Gibson for Christ’s sake
Dear Mark Roloff,
You drank a full MGD bottle with disregard. You know you can only have 1/3 of what is in the bottle (1/2 of a can) to be officially declared “shit-faced”. Goddamn, Mark you were literally beyond “shit-faced” at that point. And then you have the audacity to even begin to think it is an okay idea to drive. It is not a good idea to drive in the first place because you are a MIDGET! Tall people can drive SUV’s after drinking one beer, you can’t! And don’t get all cutesy/helium –voiced and begin to think you can wash this all away with some superb choreographed dance skills and a lavish song about an “Ode to Sugar and other Various Sweet Things”. Other people may think you are all cute because you look like a baby, but I see right through your devious size.
It’s time to wise up, little man! You got kids to take care of. You aren’t an adult Britney Spears. Due to being a MIDGET you have less rights that a normal size person. Everything is minimal for you. Could you have imagined if you would have been drastic enough to drink a full beer and an ounce of another bottle of beer – by GOD, you would have been dead! You don’t have the luxury of being as stand-up of a guy as someone like Warwick Davis, who played Willow and the Leprechaun. You were inebriated more than any MIDGET ever should be. And for this behavior, Mark Roloff, you are officially on my MIDGET SHIT LIST (it’s much smaller than my actual “Shit List”).

Final Thought: Wasn’t it politically incorrect, but subversively adequate for me to bold and capsize the entire word “midget”? We all need to feel big every once in a while.

TMZ

The war is still on? Poor people still suck?

by Fred Bundy, staff writer

The flaw with every criticism of our current situation in Iraq is the idea that the war is a partisan issue or at least commands the attention to which the effects of certain actions bearing emotional weight demand. No, the war and the major concern, death of innocent “lives,” has no real bearing outside of a pure utilitarian mode.
To enumerate our problems, one: we, as a species, have a grossly unchecked rate of population. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the world will hold seven billion people within seven years. Two: the lower socio-economic standing communities hold the greater possibility of producing more children, which, naturally, further perpetuates the exponential growth of the lower class (see: any third-world country).
Enter the war. The said lower class is seen as having no real outlet for existence save for the elementary tasks neither you nor I would consider troubling with. We then present them with the option of defending a government to which they have already willingly enslaved themselves. We can refer to Thoreau, dangerous and perhaps unnecessary, citizens who not only refuse the government, but act against it are the only living men. “The mass of men serve the State, thus not as men mainly, but as machines… they put themselves on a level with wood and earth and stones…”
If we are to see the lower class, then, as objects that command no emotional pull, lose their privilege as sentient beings, I ask why is there a need to put any value on keeping them alive? A man, who has no other desires but to give his body and thus giving up his title as a cognitive being to the State, should be granted the opportunity to enlist in the armed services, and it is while still functioning in the physical mode, we must allow him to serve our State with the highest means (one’s life) and thusly subject his will and breath to the hiemal hands of the State, and with the concern we give to tossing blocks of wood into a fire, we must lessen our guilt upon the toy soldiers fulfilling their duty.
An easy rebuttal accepts the fact that we still exist in a class society, but says a society such as this must not rid itself of the lower class if we wish to be successful. I argue, however, are we not a people obsessed with efficiency? Instant coffee, microwaves and fax machines; things are never happening fast enough. So why are we not investing heavily into finding better methods for the trite jobs that real men should not be bothered with? Can we not put a halt to the space program, and subvert those trials into producing hired help of the robotic type? Naturally, after the transitional phase that will take place, the lower class could be eradicated, or more correctly, will have evolved into a higher performing group. For if they are to see a flesh-less work force gradually interpolate what had been their typical outlet for labor, the expectations of the lower class will have to rise, and more will be determined to seek levels of higher education. Then, not only will we be more efficient as a society, but more educated, and less likely to produce offspring at an irresponsible rate.
Clearly then, we see, war produces the greatest ratio of happiness (see World War II). Not only do we slowly rid ourselves of the citizens that are not really living, which benefits everyone in ways too innumerable and time consuming to list, but we can then pull ourselves from this sludge-ridden era that has dogged our feet for too many years. Our people will push themselves to higher education and be more effective in the work force, thus returning America to the power it once was.

Old chicks I wouldn’t mind boning… or at least wouldn’t mind letting them go all Atari on my joystick.

staff writer: angus felcher



1. Glen Close
Age: 60
Reason: She’s never won an Academy Award. This is like that babe your senior year of high school that didn’t win prom queen. She kept a perfect image all three and a half years, but after the votes were tallied and she came out the loser, she slutted it out hardcore. The goal was to catch her right before the VD’s crept in; right on the brink of desperation. And that is where Ms. Close is right now, the brink of desperation. And this brink, I presume, will bring out the best knob-job I’ve ever experienced.

2. Jane Fonda
Age: 69
Reason: She’s one of those pseudo-liberals. This means she’s into the way kinky stuff and might even be down into bringing in another girl. I mean women’s lib, right? But since she’s not totally liberal, she will not have let her bush get out of control. There’s nothing more annoying than getting your teeth flossed while munching some clam. And when you’re done you can lie back and laugh about the time she said, “I believe in my heart, profoundly, that the dikes are being bombed on purpose.” What?!

3. Chrissy Hynde
Age: 55
Reason: Duh.

4. Mimi Fariña
Age: Dead (whoops)
Reason: She married at the age of 17. This means she is way impulsive, and since her husband is way dead she’s ready for a quick rebound. Mimi is also the younger sister of Joan Baez, so she will do anything to eclipse the shadow of that song-stealing, heart-breaking strumpet.

5. Meryl Streep
Age: 58
Reason: Role playing.

I would sell my own children for a lick of some BACON SALT!?!?

written by Tom DeHeely, gossip columnist






Blohan At It Again!

As you may already know, Lindsay Lohan was arrested on suspicion of drunk driving and possession of cocaine. Is it really even suspicion now? Blohan and her coke habit is more obvious than Tom Cruise’s sexual preference. She has been on a path of destruction ever since being on the set of “Freaky Friday”, where Lohan reportedly did some of her first lines of blow with the manly Jamie Lee Curtis. An insider back in 2003 also verified that Curtis forced Lohan to “pleasure” Chad Michael Murray on set, while Curtis watched, smoked Virginia Slims and quietly whispered, “Yes, that’s the spot.”

Those were the innocent days. Now there is no amount of painkillers or “super secret celebrity weed” that will suffice the beast that is Lohan. Come to think of it, Lohan’s addiction is very reminiscent to my own personal struggle with a controlled substance. What was that controlled substance you might ask?

Mother Fuckin' BACON SALT!!?!!?


baconsalt.com
“I’ll put this on everything” – Sean R.

“Why would you have fries when you could have bacon fries” – Chuck H.

Yeah, I was once like Chuck H. and Sean R., but I kicked the habit. I was going to a dark and lonely path that proceeded to times I would even offer to suck off the cashier at a local Super Walmart for just a free sprinkle of bacon salt on my tongue. It is one fucked up condiment. And it will tear you apart and you’re loved ones will want nothing to do with you.

This is the same for Lindsay Lohan, except her bacon salt is cocaine. Picture this friendly scenario:

Linday: Hey, guys let’s order some food.
Paris: Yeah, that’d be hot.
Britney: I’m supposed to be doing something important, aren’t I?
Lindsay: Oh man, I just got these fries. But why would I have fries when I could have coke fries?
Pairs: Hot.
Britney: I’ll eat those fries with powder sugar.
Lindsay: Oh god, I’m going to put coke on everything.

And she did. Lindsay you’re going to be starring in the new psychological mystery/thriller “I Know Who Killed Me”, being released July 27, do you really need anymore bad PR. I’ll tell you who killed you. It was fucking cocaine. Now go get Chad Michael Murray. We’re not finished.

“My 7 year old son hasn’t stopped talking about Bacon Salt since he heard about it. You guys are on to something here.”
- Alan S.
“I would spend my allowance on this. So good...”
- Alan’s 7 year old son

"You’ve successfully combined my two all-time favorite ingredients"
- Mark G.
"You're right, everything should taste like bacon."
- Ian B.

- credit goes to my mexican friend who looks like Benecio del Toro for scooping up this dirt.

I Can't Believe He Eats Babies!

By Tate Maxwell, feature columnist





Late last night I was twiddlin' the twat (i.e. - "surfin' the interwebs" as the youngsters call it nowadays) and I stumbled upon a fantastic discovery. On a website called dontdatehimgirl.com there is a fabulous place to see pictures a delicous men in your area. However, the juicy twist is that women write about these men and why other women should not date them. Fabulous. Pure genuis, I say. Pure unadulterated genius!

This is one man that I would never date, honey...

Doesn't sound too bad if you like to be beaten and like to kill babies, right? Eww, he's devilish. Most of these guys you could lick up, but some are just s-cumbags, lookin' for a midnight booty call. Read up ladies, and be aware of all of the sexy wolves out there. Oh geez.

Special Commentary: Well, well, well, who wants to ban pitbulls now?

By Derek Rosen, guest columnist



As many of you by now know, the city council is in the process of banning pitbulls, thanks mainly to the efforts, testimony, and countless letters-to-the-editor of Jason Freidmann. Well, I read in my paper this morning that last night an assailant broke into the Freidmans' home, robbing and then shooting Jason. It is not yet clear whether he will survive. Call me crazy, but I can't think of anyone who deserved it more.

Had Jason, who is a Jew, had a pitbull, there is no way the assailant could have gotten away with it. There is no doubt about that. My pitbull, Fitzy, would have made short work of the burgler.

Many of you who agree with me will only charge that it is too soon, and that his family members need time to grieve. This I contest! Was it too soon after the September 11th terrorist acts to go after Osama Bin Laden? To soon after Pearl Harbor to go after Hitler? No! Surely not, sir.

Others of you will say I am biased, as Jason would've taken Fitzy away. This is maybe true, but a better way to look at it is that Jason was biased. Jason, who is Jewish, has had it in for me, and other pitbull owners, ever since Fitzy mauled his five year old son Jonah as the Freidman's were walking through the park a short distance away from a dog fight Fitzy had just WON. First of all, if Jonah is such a pussy, Jason shouldn't even take him outside. My son Buck knows that if a pitbull runs up to you, you just hit it on its nose. Maybe if Jason had been a responsible parent and not raised such a pussy for a son, Jonah wouldn't have such a fucking ugly and scarred face. No, it was not Fitzy's fault. Not indeed.

To quote Thomas Jefferson, "The price of freedom is eternal vigilance." Truer words have never been spoken. May Jason Freidman rot in hell.

NB: Derek would like to thank LMAODOGZ!?! for publishing his editorial after it was rejected from the Tribune.

Fitzy and the Gallant Red Nipples of Opprobrious Behavior

It was one cold December night in 2005. Fitzy was at a "college" party with his hick friends. He had one beer ("brewsky" as Fitzy calls them) and gathered around his friends as they unnecessarily took off their shirts and played Cornhole. Fitzy made an attempt at a he-haw-like laugh, but just screeched his voice like a twelve-year old. He said, "I bet I can get one of those damnin' bean bags in that hole. Give me a chance, Rooster."

Rooster was one of Fitzy's best friends. Fitzy took the bean bag and clung tight in his disgusting, freckled hand. He tossed the bag with all of his might, but through a series of ironic twists and turns, the bean bag flew all the way into a woman's cleavage. Fitzy yelled, "Jackpot honkeys! I got in it her boooooobs." Fizty then pulled down the back end of his Abercrombie and Fitch cargo shorts and farted abruptly into his empty beer can. A couple squirts of liquid shit went all of over his hand.

"Dude," said Rooster pointing at the girl who got "cornholed". "You should go get that girlie's cellular telephone number, Fitz." Our hero nodded to Rooster and walked up to the girl.

"Hey sexy lady, what's your fucking name? Want a beer-a-two?"

"Uh, hello. My name is Mitzy. Are you the Great Fiery Red that everyone is always talking about?"

"You bet your sweet tasty vaginal lips I'm the man you be lookin' for. Do you like country music? Here's your beer."

Fitzy handed Mitzy a "brewsky" and took the girl over to the area where some hicks were doing keg stands. Everyone squinted their eyes as Fitzy took off his shirt and did a glorious keg stand. Fitzy started shouting, "Achooga Choo," repeatedly as everyone stared at his awesomeness in sheer silence.

"You wanna lick my nipples, bitch? I'm tanked," said Fitzy as he stared exotically in Mitzy's thirteen-year old, blue eyes. Mitzy started to run into the apartment, but Fitzy grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her mouth closely to his freckle-chapped lips. He tongued Mitzy so hard that she almost fainted. He pulled her back away, "How do you like that shit, bitch?"

Mitzy was able to get herself away from Fitzy's creepy clasp and ran into a bedroom. Mitzy locked the door and turned off the lights. She crawled into the corner and cried, asking herself why her God hated her so much. After a few minutes had passed, Mitzy felt a rumbling throughout the floor and walls. A loud revving sound ensued as suddenly an over-sized truck crashed through the wall, like a superfluous scene from "Bad Boys 2". Out of the truck bounced out a small creature. That creature was Brad Fitzgeral!

"Bitch, you gonna learn to love these red hot nipples if it be the last thing I done did," said Fitzy. A girl jumped out of the passenger side in red lingerie. "This is Betzy Fitzgeral, my cousin. Ain't she hotter than a pig on a hot Sunday on the Cumerland Ranch that my Uncle Jim Jam owns."

Fitzy took a giant jack-knife out of his butt crack as him and sister Betzy got butt naked. "Strip bitch."

Mitzy took off her clothes and the threesome continued in the long hours of the repulsive night.

Around 4 AM, Rooster busted into the room and took a picture of the three lovely couple. Rooster laughed uproariously and said in his timely slack-jaw voice, "Bitch, you just got burned by some mighty fine FIRE DICK!!!"

"What do you think Rooster, did I do good," asked Fitzy while flapping his dark red scrotum in the thin air like a beautiful cardinal flapping it's wings.

"That'll do, Fitzy. That'll do."

peep this shizzhihi - R Kelly - Sex Planet

Brad Fitzgeral (aka Fitzy) once fingered a 190 lb. woman in his truck while this track played. He said he, "didn't like the song so much," but it didn't, "stank any worse than my damn fingers." Fitzy is known as the Finger Bang Champion of 2007 according to LMAODOGZ!?! He truly knows how to represent LMAODOGZ as he is our official whack-ass mascot.

LMAODOGZ!?!

LMAODOGZ!?! is currently under construction. Fuck off.