Memories, From The Corner Of My Eyes

On June of 05 I wrote a post entitled "My Typical Day at the Gulag Gitmo". Who was to know that that one piece would single-handily transform Mitchieville into the incredible blogging force it is today? I sure didn't know it. Fenris didn't know it. My mom is still stunned over it.

I remember the reviews it received, absolutely amazing. The New York Times called it "Masterful". The Boston Herald said it was "A thing of Beauty". The Toronto Star called it "Silly and craptastic, full of spelling errors and a complete grammatical nightmare". Well, eff the Toronto Star, bunch of socialist swine dogs.

Here's a taste of the Gitmo piece, I hope you enjoy it once again:

Thursday, June 16, 2005

My typical day at Gulag Gitmo

7:30 A.M. Woke up to the blaring sounds of Infatuation by Christina Aguilara. While I can certainly say that it is lyrically pleasing and certainly worthy of a booty shake, I just wish that she wasn't such a dirty Imperialist Christian swine. Death be upon her. Praise be to Allah.

7:43 A.M. Put on my galabiyya and noticed that the American Imperialistic earth rapists must have used Downy instead of Snuggle when they washed my clothes. I'll itch all day, I just know it. I can't take this kind of torture anymore, Americans are barbarians. Death to America. Praise be to Allah.

8:00 A.M. Went to prayer. Prayed for the deaths of all things American. We also prayed to kill all the Jews and heathens. Then we prayed to kill all things living. I noticed that my friend Al Zababi Al Hussein Al Khomeini got a new Nike T-Shirt. Death to America. Praise be to Allah.

9:00 A.M. Ate breakfast, had a helping of Mahammara Labni. I believe the American abusers are trying to make me sick by using 2 table spoons of chopped fresh dill instead of one table spoon. They will not break me. Death be to all the American cooks and wait staff. Praise be to Allah.

10:00 a.m. The bells rang and I went to prayer. Prayed for the deaths of all things American. We also prayed to kill all the Jews and heathens. Then we prayed to kill all things living. I saw Al Zababi Al Hussein Al Khomeini again, and he was sporting a new pair of Air Jordan's. Michael Jordan is so 1990's, it is obvious the Americans are trying to torture us by fitting us with outdated sports wear. Death to America. Praise be to Allah.

11:26 Did a few rails off Mullah Akman Al Zibabi's ass. I'm sure the Fascist Americans are cutting our blow with baby powder. They will not break us, man. Death to the Crusaders. Praise be to Allah.

12:30 p.m. Lunchtime. Ate a full plate of Dajaj Bel Laban. I nearly choked on a chicken bone, but an American soldier performed a hymlich maneuver on me. Done near squeezed the shit out of me. American Soldiers have big arms. I seem to have gained a few pounds as I find my galabiyya is starting to ride up my ass. Death be to America, yadda yadda. PBTA.

1:45 p.m. Played a game of soccer with my fellow freedom fighters. Before the game we huddled together and plotted to overthrow the barbarous Americans who hold us hostage. This place is a Gulag. No time to talk, I have to make a penalty kick. Death and all that. PBTA.

2:30 p.m. Prayer Time. Same ole same ole. Prayed for everyone and everything to die. PBTA

3:00 p.m. Had to endure another interrogation. This time though the puppet show was quite fascinating. I saw for the first time that ruthless, Imperialistic crusader the Americans call "Kermit". He is a frog, and I want him dead, as well as all Americans and Jews. Allah, love him or die.

To read the rest, simply click on this well-defined link.

My typical day at Gulag Gitmo

7:30 A.M. Woke up to the blaring sounds of Infatuation by Christina Aguilara. While I can certainly say that it is lyrically pleasing and certainly worthy of a booty shake, I just wish that she wasn't such a dirty Imperialist Christian swine. Death be upon her. Praise be to Allah.

7:43 A.M. Put on my galabiyya and noticed that the American Imperialistic earth rapists must have used Downy instead of Snuggle when they washed my clothes. I'll itch all day, I just know it. I can't take this kind of torture anymore, Americans are barbarians. Death to America. Praise be to Allah.

8:00 A.M. Went to prayer. Prayed for the deaths of all things American. We also prayed to kill all the Jews and heathens. Then we prayed to kill all things living. I noticed that my friend Al Zababi Al Hussein Al Khomeini got a new Nike T-Shirt. Death to America. Praise be to Allah.

9:00 A.M. Ate breakfast, had a helping of Mahammara Labni. I believe the American abusers are trying to make me sick by using 2 table spoons of chopped fresh dill instead of one table spoon. They will not break me. Death be to all the American cooks and wait staff. Praise be to Allah.

10:00 a.m. The bells rang and I went to prayer. Prayed for the deaths of all things American. We also prayed to kill all the Jews and heathens. Then we prayed to kill all things living. I saw Al Zababi Al Hussein Al Khomeini again, and he was sporting a new pair of Air Jordan's. Michael Jordan is so 1990's, it is obvious the Americans are trying to torture us by fitting us with outdated sports wear. Death to America. Praise be to Allah.

11:26 Did a few rails off Mullah Akman Al Zibabi's ass. I'm sure the Fascist Americans are cutting our blow with baby powder. They will not break us, man. Death to the Crusaders. Praise be to Allah.

12:30 p.m. Lunchtime. Ate a full plate of Dajaj Bel Laban. I nearly choked on a chicken bone, but an American soldier performed a hymlich maneuver on me. Done near squeezed the shit out of me. American Soldiers have big arms. I seem to have gained a few pounds as I find my galabiyya is starting to ride up my ass. Death be to America, yadda yadda. PBTA.

1:45 p.m. Played a game of soccer with my fellow freedom fighters. Before the game we huddled together and plotted to overthrow the barbarous Americans who hold us hostage. This place is a Gulag. No time to talk, I have to make a penalty kick. Death and all that. PBTA.

2:30 p.m. Prayer Time. Same ole same ole. Prayed for everyone and everything to die. PBTA

3:00 p.m. Had to endure another interrogation. This time though the puppet show was quite fascinating. I saw for the first time that ruthless, Imperialistic crusader the Americans call "Kermit". He is a frog, and I want him dead, as well as all Americans and Jews. Allah, love him or die.

4:00 p.m. Prayer time again. This time though it interrupted my Scrabble game I had with Al Khali Al Mumbara Rafsanjani. I used the word *heathen* and had a triple word score worth 125, but the American hostage takers took the game away from us, therefore victory was stripped from me. That's an obvious abuse. They are trying to break me by stifling my creativity and my imaginative use of using all of my Scrabble tiles. I saw Al Zababi Al Hussein Al Khomeini again, this time he was kneeling in the front row of our prayer center and he had some serious bling attached to his wrist. It looked like a Swatch watch to me. Kill Kill Kill. Praise be to Allah.

5:30 p.m. Dinner time. Ate a mound of Fakhitha Bel Laban. What's with all the yogurt based dishes? American swine are trying to get me fat. Spilled some Fakhitha on my galabiyya. I just know it's going to leave a stain, what are all the other freedom fighters going to think? I best be sleeping with one eye open tonight. Kill ya later, gator. Praise be and all that jazz :)

8:00 p.m. Can't write much right now, it's movie night. Tonight we're watching Beaches. That Bette Midler is one funny Imperialistic Heathen beyotch. I hope they don't try to torture me with that *not real buttery popcorn" again. I can't take this abuse. Please phone NewsWeek and CBS and let them know my plight. Death, kill, and all that other good stuff. PBTA.

10:00 p.m. Prayer time. I'm so fucking sick of kneeling, I swear I'm going to blow a kneecap out. I saw that smug bastard Al Zababi Al Hussein Al Khomeini playing darts instead of reading the Koran. I'm not positive, but I am pretty sure he's had liposuction. His lips are huge, what's that fucker up to? I'll have to make a mental note to slit his throat when he's not looking. Oh yes, and then send his family a nice fruit basket. You know the routine, death To America, ect. PBTA.

11:00 p.m. Nighty night time. I just slipped into my Gulag issued wool-blended Damascan jubba. Jesus Christ, it sure gives me the tingles. It feels like the warm toes of a thousand camels caressing my body. I'll sleep like an Imperialistic pig tonight, for sure. Death=America. PBTA.