As the media represents half of the world’s supply of cum swilling fuckpig cunts, I want to make a habit of at least once a month hosing some of the wankbombs down with my prescription medication riddled jizz.
We’ll start with the wankers’ short sighted uncreative use of the worlds daily events to try to push their own bland, biased view of the world down our ever vomiting throats. These cunts get themselves stuck in little cycles, like spastic hamsters caught on a never ending exercise wheel of bullshit, unable to take their eyes off the cash prize and report honestly and impartially for even two minutes. They have to try re-hash stories they think will sell rather than actual news. This is immediately noticeable when we look at the latest case of repetitive news selling.
Trapped Miners…not satisfied with the happy ending and utterly successful rescue of their ten minute a night Chile segment; the cunts have trawled the world looking for more of the incarcerated dirt diggers. Cunting Christ! Who actually gives a fuck?! These blokes work underground, eat underground, drink underground and probably bum each other to within an inch of their miserable muck filled lives underground. Now they’re trapped and may possibly die underground. Good. At least they’ll die doing something they love rather than raping Mother Earth, the coal stealing heartless bastards. Once the Oakley sunglasses sponsored Chilean miners were released, the media quickly found some more trapped in New Zealand and then China, latching onto every facet of the saga, desperately interviewing each miners wife, mistress and old school teachers in order to introduce more scandal into the scenario. Miners have been getting stuck underground for fucking centuries, only now they’re selling papers do we need to know all of their bastard names and life stories. Twenty nine miners lost in New Zealand… Twenty nine in China…Wait twenty nine in each?! Coincidences like that are not coincidences, it’s God telling us that all journalists are soulless, unimaginative and bitterly failed authors who couldn’t be arsed making up separate numbers for separate incidents…either that or it’s a coincidence.
So for this inaugural Jizz on a Journo, I jizz on them all! Bathe in it you lying fucking cumbaths.