Hamsa Junior

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Andrew Ian Dodge looks at Abu Hamsa Al-Masri’s kid:

Its seems Dr Hook’s kid, an ex-con, is a bleeding rapper. He’s got “lots of anger”. This hate-filled little oik is “doing it large” all over London and claims to be big in the M.E.. Would it surprise anyone to hear that Hook Jr. is living off the British taxpayers while he sings the praises of those who will kill them? No doubt there are wiggas at his gigs with no clue that he is rapping about his Islamist brothers killing them some day. Its good to see that Hamza Jr is taking up the family business of spreading hate.

Yeah, I’m sure he’ll team up with Houston’s Arabic Assassin.

Trevor

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Andrew Ian Dodge takes a look at a racism-industry?

Is the racism establishment in the UK finally waking up to the true threat of Islamism and the drive to turn the UK into a full Sharia state? Sir Trevor Philips is a leading-light in the so-called “racism industry” in the UK and more often is seen bashing companies for their so-called “institutional racism”. He is a bit like Jesse Jackson in the US; but does not do the Rainbow Coalition shakedown of companies. He actually said “Muslims who want sharia law ‘should leave,'” in the Guardian of all places. Wonder what the right-on types of that paper will think.

Hold On

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All you have to do is hold on for eight lousy seconds.
I, on the other hand, have to wear this crazy-assed crap and save your butt if you don’t.
Some bulls wear themselves out and stop. Not yours.
The chute opens, and seven hundred hamburgers wrapped in bull skin and horns tries to toss you into next week.
I might catch you. And then, I might not. I might just catch the horns instead.
My mother wanted me to be a doctor. Instead, I’m a lousy rodeo clown, and we’ll both need one soon if this bull doesn’t stop.

Cigars

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Andrew Ian Dodge takes a little advice from Pink Floyd and has a cigar…

Cigars are a wonderful thing. Pure tobacco leaf at its best, hand- rolled on a virgin’s thigh…er rather lovingly dried, cut and rolled by tobacco experts. With cigars, especially maduros which I smoke, are best when smoked infrequently. The pleasure of smoking a cigar is like none other. Its relaxing and therapeutic all in one go. If you’re clever you can even blow smoke rings to keep yourself and others amused. A nice Churchill maduro cigar from Honduras or Nicaragua is about as good as it gets. No, not better than good sex; but damn near close. Cigars are pure pleasure.

Now tell me again, which one’s Pink?

Dark Eyes

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Andrew Ian Dodge turns fro mthe headlines and looks in the mirror for a moment…

Dark eyes; why are they always seen as bad or evil? Why is it a good thing, as in the song for someone to have their brown eyes turn blue? As you can imagine I have dark brown eyes that have been known to change and become darker at times of intense emotion and pleasure. This has been called creepy and even scary by those close to me one time or other. Why I ask? What is wrong with my eyes turning black? Surely if brown eyes turning blue is a good thing then changing another way is good too?

As my grandmother explain to me, dark brown eyes are a sign that you’re full of crap.

Zorro

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Every society has its zorro, a man who rises up and fights for the people.
In Zambia, he is known as Paktuku, Defender of the Wells, and he is armed with a golden spear.
In Estonia, he is Gabt, a mighty one-armed woodsman with a gnarled axehandle.
In Paraguay, the zorro has no name that is spoken aloud, but the people hint of “He who glides like a feather.”
But compared to all the other zorros of the world, I like the sissy in the black cloak and sword the best. Maybe it’s the big black horse he rides around.

Diamonds are not a girls’ best friend

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It was Tina’s first time.
The deal was simple: she’d swallow the bag of diamonds, fly to Rome, and then she’d crap them out.
It would have been the easiest ten thousand dollars she ever made. What could possibly go wrong?
When she landed, Customs waved her through.
They were waiting for her. Tossed her in a car and drove for a few hours until they got to the villa.
“Change of plans.”
They shot her, cut her open, pulled out the diamonds, and buried the rest.
They used to harvest and sell the organs. Too much of a hassle.

Selfish

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Andrew Ian Dodge gets a little selfish with his latest story…

Selfishness is seen by many as a bad thing. It drives us human beings. You want to make money to buy stuff, get laid, find the right significant other and be comfortable. Your selfish desire for these things drives you to work harder, better and faster. This drives the economy. Why is this bad? If everyone stuck to getting what they want out of life and stopped meddling in other’s affairs life would be a hell of a lot happier for all. Sod the critics and listen to Crowley: “do what thou whilt; shall be the whole of the law.”

Am I being selfish in not plugging Andrew more in the podcasts he generously hands to me to post on the site, or is he being selfish somehow?
Maybe you’re being selfish by not sharing them with others?

Gingerman

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He sat alone in the crowd, casually reading his book and sipping a pint.
He was waiting for some people, but he preferred to read instead of wait.
One beer… two… three…
Sure, he had been early, but now they were late.
Was he at the right place? Did he get the time wrong?
Every voice in the crowd started to sound like them.
He got up and looked around… twice… three times…
“And they lived happily ever after.”
Finished. Not bad.
He shrugged, paid his tab, tipped generously, and left.
Not a bad evening at all, he thought, smiling.

Two Loves

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Walter had two childhood loves: singing waiters and rollerskating waitresses.
When he grew up, he wanted nothing more than a restaurant that had both.
So, after lying to the bank about the true nature of his dream-restaurant, he bought all the kitchen and wireless microphone equipment he needed, laid out the tables around a roller-derby track, and went on a hiring spree.
Now it’s one thing to hire singers, rollerskaters, and waiters. But it’s another thing entirely looking for all three on the same resume.
A few broken bones and stained uniforms later, Walter gave up.
He sold pizza instead.