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Jowell Skiffington

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God damn ... [Aug. 19th, 2004|06:27 am]
Jowell Skiffington
[mood |crankycranky]
[music |Static-X - The Trance Is The Motion]

  When life gives you lemons, some dumbass decided to get all Christian in da hizzy and tell me to make lemonade, so I tied them down and squeezed fresh lemons in their eyeball. That's right, in not on because despite common logic, I know that the eyeball is a container made specifically for lemon juice, hot sauce and various other liquids.

  I've been reading up on my heritage and believe it or not, here comes a breakdown of my current (but soon to change) ethnicity

8% Swahili
17% German
21% Italian
719% Jewish
91.8% French

Now this doesn't bode well because ...

1. My numbers don't add up very well. Try and try as I might, they still don't add up to the ever elusive 100%, probably because I'm Italian and incapable of doing math. I certainly know Fat Tony down the street doesn't. He says I needed to get him 20$ dollars by the end of the week or he'd break my legs so I tied him down and poured lemon juice over his fat eyeball.

2. The fact that I'm nearly all French despite relative standards means that I'll run away from any real conclusion I can make on my ethnicity. My natural disposition towards wine doesn't help matters much.

3. Being German and Jewish, well, that one kind of writes itself out. It's like 9 fronts in my mind all fighting out for control of french bread factories.

4. This one really bothers me. I mean, I'm Jewish, I'm svitzing and I have the bank account of an Irish catholic. I'M FRIKKEN JEWISH, WHEREZ MY MONEYZ.

If anyone can do the math and unlock the secret to why I exist, feel free to attempt it. Just don't get too close or I'll fucking juice your eyeball.

p.s. Before you even fucking BOTHER asking, satire is not a goat legged pan flute playing Dave Matthews Band member. Just so we're clear on the matter.
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Marky King, news and views! [Aug. 19th, 2004|06:10 am]
Jowell Skiffington
[mood |crankycranky]

Chicken, while a good white meat, is not as good a white meat as Hookers, the other white meat.
Fucking train sets is not a respectable profession.
Nor is the fucking of the 1/128th sized people models.
I think that our president is a good president, but Gene Shalit would make for a better one.
Handlebar moustaches were never in, unless you make skateboarding games for a living.
Having relations with an Iraqi hooker does not constitute a humanitarian effort.
Wife beating: fair game!
Being old, while respectable, does not give one a license to defecate in thine own drawers.
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I truly love this world ... [Jun. 23rd, 2004|05:54 am]
Jowell Skiffington
  I've found recently that all I do is bitch and complain when there are so many wonderful things in the world. Case in point ...

People who bitch and complain about hidden meanings they justify in their own mind through words they wished were hidden. It's like a Martin Brest screenplay. Now with the internet, you don't even have to be in love with your voice, just the words you put on the screen. Needless to say, it's pathetic on all parties involved (including my own) so let's not mix words here.

  I love couples that involve a member who is unable to defend themselves. While the reactions themselves are highly entertaining when taking on a dual party, what's even worse is the level of delusion these people can bring themselves too in all facets of their life. Their points, while credible at their base, are almost completely destroyed because they use the same means to berate people around them. Some people have less of a hold on reality than even I do.

  I think as far as good ideas go, I'll establish a belief base, use judgement to rise above my own pathetic existence, claim objectivity on the matter, hoping that by berating those darn crazy philistines, I will somehow be made more right because of it and then change my belief structure as the argument sees fit. Oh I guess that's not such a good idea. Just did a google search on the matter and it seems that 9/10's of the globe already does this. Every god damn time I think I come up with something good, it always comes back on me like that.

  That's the problem with having beliefs, when they don't work for your present stance, it's a bit hard to come out of the situation without looking like a hypocrite. All those silly fire insurance Christians or even the other end of the spectrum, the one who sacrifices faith because their child dies, life isn't working out etc etc. You're just a product of oppurtunity, are you going to let a little thing like your kid dying get you down? Didn't you sacrifice your life for the big guy in the sky anyways? Or was that only under the pretense that nothing bad would ever happen to you? Oh well, I do certainly hope that God is as beauracratic as people make him out to be. If all I have to do is sell my soul to Jesus Christ to live an afterlife of pure ... what? That's fucked up and I should shut up? But you said all I had to do was believe right? If a serial killer and a money grubbing evangelist can make it, surely I stand some chance right?  Good, I'll see you and that pencil pusher in Heaven then.

  - Isolatee

p.s. Can someone tell that desk jockey that I need the case file on "The Human Condition", I need some laughs and I can't get over to the office building he's in till Sunday.
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It's sad when ... [Jun. 19th, 2004|03:47 am]
Jowell Skiffington
[mood |disappointeddisappointed]
[music |Dredg - It Only Took A Day]

... people wont look at any side besides their own. Especially when you hold respect for them intiailly because of their objective nature but regardless, congrats to the weak heart and the weak mind. Perhaps together, you two will be able to drown out everything else in the world. To delusion and coalesced hearts.

  - With all the sincerity in me
    - Mark

p.s. Don't drag the kids into your world of petty hate and madness. We have enough garbage in the world and despite the fact I think you almost might mold them into monsters just to spite this statement (yes, I believe you're that petty) a union will undoubtedly give both of you more responsibility than may be fit. Good luck in your future trials, you're going to need it.

 
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Ever get that feeling ... [Jun. 14th, 2004|03:24 am]
Jowell Skiffington
[mood |touchedtouched]
[music |Dredg - A]

That your life is slipping away? I don't because I already have Alzheimer's and I'm shitting my drawers.

- Isolatee
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(no subject) [May. 7th, 2004|03:24 am]
Jowell Skiffington
[mood |confusedconfused]
[music |"Goofin Around" by "The Johnsonville Goofs"]

So here's the ol one-two for all you cool cats out there, which is to say, not me. The dillio leads me to believe that my crack dealer won't be in the general environs for at least a fortnight and as such, worries my crack bladder ... or was it my real one? Who can tell these days friends. Personally, I believe that such talk of alleged bladders that may or may not have exploded due to malnutrition should be left to the birds and other such tomfoolery. I know you're thinking "but without his crack, James Willaby the Sadistic Clown is a freakin god damn freakin freaky deaky" but I have a wine cooler that seems to be mixed with dna to help me through the good times and the bad, like a wife I don't have to murder.

In a moment of pure genius, I must ask this question like my protege Jerry Seinfeld. What is the dEaL with computers? They don't really compute anythi ... oh. Well, scratch that. This is quite embarassing I assure you and if I had a keyboard that a delete or backspace button, I'd be sure to rectify this mistake. You can't blame a clown for trying ... okay fine you can but just you try it. I'll murder you with two shakes of a mongoose' tail.

I wish you folks were here to see this. I'm in what appears to be a young girl's room, made apparent by the KY jelly tubes and various rubber phallic objects littering the room. While you may accuse me of placing these objects to incriminate Miss Skiffington, you'll be sure to note that the N'Sync posters cluttering her room were also indicative of the nature of the inhabitants contained herein. Why I'm even fingering this circuitboard and connecting to that new fangled intra web is beyond me. I had a mission but it fails to dawn on me at the moment. What I do know is that I hear footsteps and must hide forthwith so don't mind me, it's not like anyone will see these ramblings anyways. Now to find an exit to this crazy word processing garbage heap, Post Entry sounds as viable an exit as any.
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Hey hey my peepz, fo shizzles [Apr. 27th, 2004|06:46 am]
Jowell Skiffington
[mood |crazycrazy]
[music |"I've been assaulted by terrorists indirectly but I'll still never forget oh 9-11" by "Elliot Verth]

Hey hey, it's that Jowell of the Skiffington litter and I'm here to stay, forever and ever. Sorry bout that off time folks but I feel like life has changed for the better. For starters, Thomas died of SARS, go figure. James Spader just moved next door and I've been going over for private lessons and school is as easy as it ever was. Trent is now training to be a concert pianist even though he SUCKS. Anyways, some other bits and pieces of info you guys should know is that Bridgeview Monteskiew was attacked by terrorists. It wasn't pretty at all and despite the magnitutde of said event, national security prevented the press from getting any info on the occurance. So yeah, I was held in the school for 3 and a half months while the terrorists threatened, bamboozled and tom-foolerized their way into the hearts of all 2817 students here at the school. While I won't go into details about what truly occured during those days, I will say a myriad of show tunes were involved and it frightened me, despite the fact that A Chorus Line and commercials are my favorite endeavors in film. Anyways, my daddy says he needs a date for his police ball and he's making me drink this stuff to get ready for it. It smells like the stuff I have to rub on mom's feet but Daddy says it'll get me in the mood for later. Anyways, tooteloo mon froozlo.

- Jowell "mon Frowell" Skiffington
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Oh no! [Dec. 19th, 2003|10:10 pm]
Jowell Skiffington
[mood |melancholymelancholy]
[music |"I'm an angry ma fucko" by "12 Angry Clowns"]

It's Trent, yeah scurry off to the unwashed masses like the philistine you are. As you can tell by my pseudo-intellectual (someone called me that at all school today, I must say I'm quite proud) banter, I'm quite woeful with myself. Woe is not just me today, I is woe. Think about that one for a while.

Some fucker was eating a sausage and I made fun of him for eating it. Only faggots eat sausage but then these big monkey gorilla players came up to me and were like "the only faggot here is you, cure-boy." I don't even like the Cure and as I was explaining, they punched me in the stomach and laughed. Why do people make fun of me for being different? I hate it and one day I'm going to roast them. Being open minded is pretty hard.

So anyways, back to that faggot, I went over and told him that he better be ready for a date with nosferatu tonight but he just laughed at me and swung his filthy sausage in my face. I must say, it kind of smelled good but I refused to bite it, on grounds of being a faggot and all.

That's my day, fighting faggots, getting oppressed. It sucks to be so avant garde but c'est la vie.

- Trent
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I saw something today ... [Dec. 19th, 2003|01:33 am]
Jowell Skiffington
[mood |shockedshocked]
[music |'Clownin Around' by "The Johnsonville Goofs"]

Something that damn near shattered my soul!

Editorials: sort of like LJ but even more pretentious (scientists at NASA are boggling their noggins trying to figure this one out, more at 11). Anyways, back to the story, I saw one entitled Howell at the Moon. The author's last name was Howell. Let's back this up for a second.

There is only one thing worse than editorials and coincidentally enough, it's an editorial with a punny name. Oh. My. Fucking. God. Howell at the moon guys, are we going to sit idly by while this fucking filth ball gets people to read his shtick? IT'S THE SAME FUCKING PEOPLE WHO READ FAMILY CIRCUS.

In concordance, nay, diametrically opposed constructive death-rage, my column that doesn't exist will now be referred to as "Clownin' Around" Get it? It's because I'm a goofy clown. You see, it's not about the intelligent readers that can, through some miracle of science and grey matter, form a thought that may or may not get various other thoughts off the ground. It's about making a fucking 40 year old republican re-re giggle at the title, so there it is folks. Don't take me seriously, I'm just 'Clownin Around' *applause ensues*

- Yorgle, the honest to god circus clown >:o)

p.s. If you or anyone you know enjoys Family Circus, I'm truly sorry. Refer to the post post script for more reconciliation.

p.p.s. I'm sorry that you or someone you're stealing money from likes Family Circus.
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Hey }:o) [Dec. 15th, 2003|01:36 am]
Jowell Skiffington
[mood |rejuvenatedrejuvenated]
[music |"Gettin it from the corp" by "Corp Street Manglers"]

I just had the pleasure of experiencing one of the most feel good hits of the century, "The Truth About Cats and Dogs". Uma Thurman's portrayal of the ugly dog was as stunning as it was introspective.

- Gene Shalit, the movie critic clown }:o(
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