Jenna Talackova Naked!! Heidi Montag Naked!! Donald Trump Naked!!

Y’know folks…something disturbing happened yesterday.

I, the Matt-Man, the man of a thousand quotes, queries, and quantitative physics problems rolling around in my head at any given time was called…

“A twelve year old.”

In fact my friends, and lovers of all things I’m With Stupid related, the exact quote was this…

“I think both you and Jay are a couple of dudes with the sense of humor of twelve year old boy.”

After three minutes of loudly feigning expressing my outrage, and correcting her quantitative grammar problem, I bellowed to the loquitur of said character impugnment:

“I am not a twelve year old boy, and my humor is always on the cutting edge.”

What I really wanted to say was, in my best impersonation of the Crazy World of Arthur Brown:

“I am the God of hell fire and I bring you fire…”  and continue on in my Al Sharpton voice by saying:

“Oh look at you…you gots the blueberries alllll over your face.”  But…

I didn’t.  For that would be juvenile.

So instead, I attacked her accusatory statement by using simple, everyday logic with the following diatribe…

Listen…

You act like Jayman and I are nothing but a couple of heathens who want nothing more than to score cheap hits on our website by posting tawdry pictures of hot babes that are labeled with their name followed by, “naked”, or “sexy”, or “boobies”.

If that were the case, I would post a picture of the new transgender Miss Universe contestant from Canada, Jenna Talackova like this one:

And then, would label it with her name and add something like, “naked, hot, sexy” to it, which I did, but only to illustrate a point.

I am all for former men being invited to participate in Donald Trump’s Miss Universe pageant.  Does that sound like the attitude of a twelve year old?

Uh-huh…I didn’t think so...and just like I asked Donald Trump on Twitter last night…

“Does she have camel toe?”

Tell a twelve year old to come up with that line of humor.  Word.

See?  Jayman and I, are men of sophisticated tastes, humor, and upbringing.

You’ll never catch me making fun of stroke-ridden Dick Clark by saying, “Happy Doo Year” and then miscounting down to the New Year.

You’ll never hear Jayman uttering, “Trick or Treating in the projects would suck.”

Nope.  We are far more sophisticated than that.  Far more sophisticated than a twelve year old boy.

We don’t make wee-wee jokes, poopie jokes, or hoo-ha jokes.

We simply tell it like it is, and we do not, and will not post cheap pictures like this:

Because, well…it isn’t right.

Instead, we write on this site and turn in high performance shows like the one we did yesterday…

Jayman and I discussed what was in our local newspapers and had a heck of a good time doing so, as our fave Kentucky Jew, Sweet Pea, called in.

You can catch the hilarious show in the archives here:

And remember, as a cutting edge comedic person without the sense of humor of twelve year old, I also do not find it funny when I am watching TV and a commercial for Siemens comes on.

Trust me, I do not laugh at Siemens commercials, nor would I title this post in a manner simply to attract readers.  I'm not a frickin' twelve year old for Godssakes.

Cheers!!

Matt-Man

Super Bowl XLVI...A Media Pass Is Not a Free Pass

Hi Babies.  IWS News Hottie, Kim Fragile here, for I’m With Stupid.

I don’t think I’ve talked to you since last October when on Sweetest Day I described to you what an incredibly stupid “holiday” it is.

Chocolates?  Flowers?  Perfume?  Pffffft.

Give me an inflatable bondage chair, a Doctor who prescribes his own Viagra, and an AP News Feed, and I am one happy news woman…but anyhoo…

The other day, I was in the island nation of Madagascar where I was doing an IWS documentary on the effects of big, black African penises inside of a white news reporter who has tsetse flies covering her vagina and hot voodoo candle wax on her nipples, when my cell phone rang.

It was Matt-Man.

He said that a frantic Jayman had told him that the NFL had refused to give our Sports Director, Slyder Balzcock, media credentials to get inside of Lucas Oil Stadium in order to cover Super Bowl XLVI.

After I asked, and Matt-Man explained to me what the hell “ex-el-vee-eye” meant, he told me to go gutter newsie, and get my sexy ass to Indianapolis in order to help the IWS Media Empire secure a Media Pass through my feminine wiles if necessary.

Well let me tell ya…It hasn’t been easy.

I first went the defiant and educated, “Hey, we here at IWS are journalists, and deserve our journalistic right to cover the Super Bowl” route.

I was told by NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell, that the IWS team exhibits journalistic skills and decorum that the NFL would prefer not to have covering their annual, national celebration of sportsmanship and excellence in athletics.

So…I went above Goodell’s head and asked his wife, FOX News babe Jane Skinner, if she’d like to have sex with me in exchange for an NFL Media Pass.

She told me that while she would like to have sex with me, the last Super Bowl pass she had, had to be given to an adult woman who suffers from mental retardation so she had just given it to her co-worker, Gretchen Carlson.

So, I began a thinkin’…

“Who in the world desperately needs sex and might have a media credential for Super Bowl Ex-El-Vee-Eye?”

I immediately thought of Sean Hannity and Donald Trump. One or both of those wanks has to both, need sex AND have access to a media credential for Slyder.  And…

I was right.

Unfortunately, when I finally got a hold of Hannity, he was with Trump and in between the noise of the rustling sheets and Ned Beatty sqealing sounds, Sean told me that he and The Donald had sold their media passes to Bernie Goldberg and Glenn Beck.

So…I guess I was a day late and a penis short.

Alas…I did my best.  Although….

Maybe if I were to track down Wes Welker’s uber-hot girlfriend, Anna Burns?

Yeah...maybe she could do something for me…Uh-huh, she already does.

And truly?

It doesn't matter to me whether she has a press pass or not. Rowwwrrrrrrr.

Zooooves,

Kim

Email:  neshobadude@yahoo.com
Twitter: @mattmaiws

Kim Jong Il Is Dead, But His Legacy Trumps All

The world of misanthropes, starvation artists, and dictators is awash in sadness these days as they mourn the loss of one of their own, in the form of the once aspirating, lively body, and sharp, wacky mind of now dead as a DMZ, North Korean President, Kim Jong Il.

I feel badly for Kimmy…As far as dictators go, he had no staying power. He only lasted seventeen years.

His legacy will pale in comparison to the likes of Gaddafi, Ceausescu, Castro, and Mussolini, however…

Kim Jong Il had one thing that those arbiters of animalistic autocracy never had…

A sense of the common man.

When Kim Jong Il wasn’t caught on State-Run TV being the greatest athlete in the world, or brutalizing innocent people into submission, he loved music, movies, loose women, and booze.

It’s as though he was Bruce Jenner, Jerry Sandusky, and Mickey Rourke rolled into one.

In other words, Kim Jong Il, was so damn American by nature, that whenever I watched video of a North Korean missile fire test, I didn’t see nuclear escalation and proliferation; I saw the rockets red glare and the bombs bursting in air. In fact…

I always thought of Kim Jong Il as the James Madison of the Korean peninsula, and I have no doubt that the North Korean flag being red, white, and blue isn’t merely an ironic coincidence.

And while many may chuckle at the thought of its improbability, I’m sure that somewhere on the outskirts of Pyongyang, lies a well protected collective wheat farm full of amber waves of grain…grain of which the unappreciative tongues of millions of North Koreans rightly so, shall never taste.

I am saddened at the loss of this great man, but I do not write this essay in the musings of a mournful man. I write this in hopes of continuing Kim Jong Il’s works of American exceptionalism that have taken place above the 38th Parallel.

With his passing, North Korea finds herself in the throes of a fight between Demagoguery and Democracy…between the military and the masses…between Bok Choy and buttered corn.

An American…an American as red, white, and blue as Kim Jong Il was, and the North Korean flag is still, needs to take on the risk of a DPRK military assassination, the bitter taste of dog meat, and the ability to turn his or her back on the histrionic and overplayed suffering of the North Korean people.

That American?

The only American whose ego is that of Kim Jong Il’s. The only person who wants to be President of this country, but never will be.

The only American I know who would suffer the world’s sling and arrows, humiliation, and mockery in order to bring North Korea into the 21st Century while bringing himself back into relevance…

Donald Trump.

While I believe that no one will ever completely fill the All-American platform shoes of Kim Jong Il…North Korea’s last, best hope of elevating itself into a century of peace and prosperity, lies within the soles of Donald Trump’s Tistoni shoes.

Godspeed Donald Trump, Godspeed. Bring unto North Korea, a future of kimchi pots brimming with success and shiny, happy, short people.

Haeng un eul bin da !!

Matt-Man

e-mail: neshobadude@yahoo.com
Twitter: @mattmaniws

Donald Trump 2012: A Full Table and an Empty Suit

I have been a bit miffed of late.

Donald Trump has had dinner with Sarah Palin, Rick Perry, and now plans to have eats with Mitt Romney next Monday. I started thinking to myself…

Sure, the people with whom he has broken bread want to be President, but doggone it, so do I…Why shouldn’t he sit down and throw some groceries back with me, so…

I called The Donald and told him just that, and to my surprise, he said to me…

“Let’s eat, Matt-Man…and because I’m The Donald, it’s on me.”

I asked him where he wanted to hook up and he replied that since I was renown for being a lover of the burger, and he is kinda like royalty, we’d meet at White Castle.

In fact he said, “The King can delight in watching his serf feast upon the golden sliders he has bought for him.”

Whatever, and anyhoo…

The Donald and I met over sliders last night, and frankly, the guy is a real jerk, but I had questions.

I of course asked him why, when he met with Palin, he ate pizza with a fork, and he responded…

“Have you seen the hairy, oily dagos who make that shit? Getting a rogue, hairy anchovy on my slice would be bad enough, but I don’t want listeria or Neapolitan Measles from it because wunderkind, Giuseppe coughed on it. The fork is my radar.”

Ah I said, and then asked him what he thinks of Rick Perry…

“Jim’s a great guy.”, he responded. “Jim Perry could lead this nation back down a road to greatness, as soon as he realizes that roads need a government to build them…and maintain them…and plow the snow off of them.”

I said to Trump, “I noticed you called him Jim instead of Rick again…Is there a reason for that?”

The Donald, swayed the fork with which he was eating his sliders and onion rings back and forth, and responded…

“Rick…Jim…Mitt…Sarah…It makes me no never mind…I don’t give a shit about those fucks. I’m all about The Donald, and branding. If I have to buy them an expensive dinner to stay topical, so be it. It may cost me in the short term, but hell, it’s not like I can’t go bankrupt again. FOX and NBC will still pay me”

And with that, I recognized the genius behind the fucked up hair, the braggadocio, the frightened little pseudo-genius, and attention seeking man-whore he is, but seriously…

He shouldn’t talk with a mouthful of sliders, onion rings, and the ice cream scoop of mashed potatoes that he pulled from the pocket of his Versace suit.

It was disgusting.

Cheers!!

Matt-Man

neshobadude@yahoo.com

www.twitter.com/#!/MattManIWS