Posts tagged ‘1986’

So hard to say goodbye …


I never thought it would be this hard, but after more than 22 years together — how could it not be?

Beethoven: July 1986 – April 2009

beethyears

At least she’ll get to see her friends soon …

mochili

There probably won’t be a post here for a few days …

sleepies

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April 16, 2009 at 3:39 pm 8 comments

How To: Kill Fatty


 Richard Cooey is a loser lardbutt waste of human space retarded idiot scatwad.

Whaaatttt?!?
I’m not spreadin’ rumors or anything!

He admits it – and so do his lawyers!
::: Well, the lardbutt part at least – the rest is a well-founded editorial opinion :::

Cooey’s the assface you see here:
<—

While sitting on Ohio’s Death Row for the 1986 rape and murder of two women, Cooey has surmised that he is too much of a blubberhead to have that pesky little death sentence thingy carried out — and he got all suey about it just in case people weren’t listening.

His lawyers filed suit in federal court arguing that the murdering rapist they represent had poor veins when he faced execution five years ago and the problem has gotten worse as their murdering rapist client has packed on the pounds. They also say prison officials have had difficulty drawing blood from the murdering rapist they represent.
::: my heart bleeds 4 u, murdering rapist!!! :::

Attorneys for the big fat murdering rapist also say a drug their rapist-murderer fat fuck of a client takes for migraine headaches could affect the execution process.
::: if only :::
And a physician hired by the Ohio Public Defender’s Office said Cooey’s fatassness, combined with the potential drug resistance, increases the risk he would not be properly anesthetized.
::: I got a cure for that … Zzzzzzttt! :::

This story puts me in mind of the time I took my first steer to the packing plant for processing.

I’d said my (extremely tearful) goodbyes to Sir Loin at P&B MeatPacking and was walking toward the office when I heard about 4 quick squeals that were quite obvously not from delight.

Just then, a stubby guy in a bloody apron burst through a set of swinging doors.
Making a beeline for the back wall, he was muttering a healthy string of obsenities juuuust audible enough for an 11-year-old girl to memorize.

I giggled.
He stopped.
He turned around.
I swallowed my gum.
He grinned.

Then he spat on the floor, turned back toward the wall, reached up, grabbed a shotgun mounted above a homemade ‘Cash Only’ sign and disappeared back through the swinging doors.

Seconds later I heard *chhkkk chkkk* pump.
Then a blast.
Then silence.

That’s how they have to do it sometimes when the charge can’t make it through the pig’s fat.

I’m thinking a shotgun shell might be the perfect solution for the fatass murdering rapist asshole pig on Ohio’s death row who thinks he is just too much for the quiet chemicals of lethal injection.

Worth a shot, right?

August 5, 2008 at 5:57 pm 1 comment


This is the shit you bitches are reading


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