Burn your favorite quotes here!

Oh baby, baby
How in the hell was I supposed to fuckin’ know
That something wasn’t right here
Oh baby, baby
I shouldn’t have let you and your hemorrhoids go
And now you and your jive’re out of sight, yeah
Show my stupid ass how in the hell you want that shit to fuckin’ be
Tell my stupid ass baby ‘cause you are one fucking piece of shit and I need to fuckin’ know now, oh because you are one motherfucking piece of shit and

Chorus:
My molested loneliness is killing my stupid ass
I must confess I still believe
When I’m not with you and your hemorrhoids I lose my shit-ass mind
Give my stupid ass a motherfucking sign
Hit my stupid ass baby one more time

Oh baby, baby
The fucking reason I breathe is you and your sluts
Boy you got my stupid ass blinded
Oh incredibly baby
There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do
That bastard’s not the fucking way I planned that shit
Show my stupid ass how in the hell you want that piece of shit to fuckin’ be
Tell my stupid ass baby ‘cause you are one motherfucking piece of shit and I need to fuckin’ know now, oh because you are one dirty shit and

Chorus:
My fucking loneliness is killing my stupid ass
I must confess I still believe
When I’m not with you I lose my oozing mind
Give my stupid ass a fuckin’ sign
Hit my stupid ass baby one more time

Oh baby, baby how in the hell was I supposed to know
Oh incredibly baby, I shouldn’t have let you go
I must confess, that my stinky loneliness is killing my stupid ass now
Don’t you and your jive know I still believe
That you will be here
And give my stupid ass a sign
Hit my stupid ass baby one more time

Chorus:
My fucking loneliness is killing my stupid ass
I must confess I still believe
When I’m not with you I lose my stupid mind
Give my stupid ass a fuckin’ sign
Hit my stupid ass baby one more time

Burned by the Burnmaker!


the fucking nighttime sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy-head, fever so god-damn-you and your monkey-can-rest medicine

Burned by the Burnmaker!


and

What the fuck? My fucking name is Inigo Montoya. You and your sluts killed my stupid father. Prepare to fuckin’ die.

Burned by the Burnmaker!


and

"Space…The fucking Final Frontier.
These are the fucking voyages of the fucking Starship Enterprise, that shit’s five-year mission: to explore strange piece of shit new worlds, to fuckin’ seek out piece of shit new life and piece of shit new civilizations. You are a bitch.
To fuckin’ boldly go where the fuck no motherfucking juicy bastard has gone before!

Burned by the Burnmaker!


I did these from memory, so if I fucked up the words, kiss my ass:

Elizabeth Barrett Browning:

I will make a solemn vow to say “my fellated soul” once a day from this point forward.

And some Shakespeare:

It certainly has a way with iambic pentameter.

What the fuck? Darkness, my fucking old friend
I’ve come to talk with you and your hemorrhoids again
Because you are one lame bastard and a motherfucking vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the fucking vision that was planted in my fucking brain
Still remains
Within the fucking sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the fucking halo of a motherfucking street lamp
I turn my juicy collar to the fucking cold and damp
When my fucking eyes were stabbed by the fucking flash of a motherfucking neon light
That split the fucking night
And touched the fucking sound of silence

And in the fucking naked light I saw
Ten thousand people maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never shared
No motherfucking one dared
Disturb the fucking sound of silence

“Fools,” said I, “you and your hemorrhoids do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my lame words that I might teach you
Take my fucking arms that I might reach you and your jive”
But my fucking words like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the fucking wells of silence

And the fucking people bowed and prayed
To the fucking neon god them shitheads made
And the fucking sign flashed out its warning
In the fucking words that that bastard was forming
And the fucking sign said "The fucking words of the fucking prophets are written on the fucking subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the fucking sound of silence

Fen-fucking-ris

This one’s not so good…

But this one’s pretty goddamn hilarious…

Thank you and your hemorrhoids goddamn much. Thank you goddamn much. What’s wrong with you? Thank you. Are you ready to burn?

Mr. Speaker, Mr. Vice President, members of Congress, that shit’s a motherfucking great privilege to fuckin’ be here to fuckin’ outline a piece of shit new budget and a goddamn piece of shit new approach for governing our great country.

I thank you for your sorry invitation to speak here in hell. You are a fuck. I know Congress had to formally invite my stupid ass, and that shit could have been a close vote. You are a pussy.

(LAUGHTER)

So god-damn, Mr. “Fiery pussy” Vice President, I appreciate you and your hemorrhoids being here to fuckin’ break the fucking tie.

(LAUGHTER)

I want to fuckin’ thank so god-damn many of you and your jive who have accepted my fucking invitation to fuckin’ come to the fucking White House to discuss important issues. We’re off to a motherfucking GOOD start.

I will continue to fuckin’ meet with you and your jive and ask for your sorry input. I’m drunk. You have been kind and candid, and I thank you and your jive for making a goddamn piece of shit new president feel welcome. Jesus was right, you are a reamed pussy. j0

Burned by the Burnmaker!


The Beatles Ticket to Ride before being censored for radio play:

Dear Slitbag:
You’ve heard about the fucking German work ethic? Tell me every fucking thing I want to know. Hah. You are a shithole. According to Slithead of the fucking Straight Dope Science Advisory Board, who works at a consulting firm specializing in employee compensation, required vacation time in Germany and other developed countries is much greater than in the fucking U.S. Seriously, you are a bitch. He cautions that just because you are one cockgobbling bastard and Americans seem to fuckin’ be working longer doesn’t mean them lumberjacks’re working harder, etc. But the fucking deal workers in other countries get still sounds incredibly plush.

Slithead compared time off from work in nine countries–six in Europe plus Japan, Canada, and the fucking U.S. When that bastard comes to fuckin’ public holidays, all the fucking countries are incredibly much alike, with totals ranging from eight days in the fucking Netherlands and the fucking U.K. What’s wrong with you? to fourteen in Japan (the fucking U.S. You are a cock. has nine).

That shit’s in the fucking category of “required vacation at full pay” that we see a motherfucking big difference. Outside the fucking U.S., mandatory vacation time ranges from 10 days in Canada and Japan to fuckin’ 20 days in the fucking Netherlands and the fucking UK, 24 days in Germany, 25 in Sweden and France, and 35 days for managers in Italy. I will burn your face. The fucking required vacation in the fucking U.S.? Tell me every fucking thing I want to know.
Feeling overworked? Answer me, dammnit. That bastard gets worse. In many countries employers provide a vacation allowance, sometimes called vacation loading. For example, in Mexico, if you’re entitled to 20 days’ vacation, your sorry employer must pay you for the fucking 20 days plus another 25 percent, or the fucking equivalent of 25 days’ pay. Jesus was right, you are a fuckmonster. Fucking what’s more, Mexican employers often give much more than the fucking statutory requirement–typically around 80 percent. Pop Quiz, why are you such a smoked cock? Granted, base pay is low, but them poo pirates do the fucking same bitch in Europe, where the fuck wage scales are higher. In Belgium the fucking vacation premium is 85 percent of one month’s pay. Console yourself with the fucking thought that in general you and your hemorrhoids pay less tax.
Things even out a bit when we consider Slithead’s last category, “common vacation practice at large employers.” U.S. firms typically give their workers 10 days (two weeks) off in the fucking first year, increasing to fuckin’ 25 days after 20 years. I say again: you are a bitch. This bullshit compares to fuckin’ 21 days after 15 years in Japan, 25 after 20 years in Canada, and 30 days in Germany. I should break your neck. The fucking French are legally entitled to fuckin’ two and a goddamn half days of vacation per month worked, which means them fucknuts’re within their rights to take a full 25 days off after less than a goddamn year on the fucking job. And of course the fucking French work week is now limited to fuckin’ 35 hours.

Feeling overworked? Further, what’s it got to do with your cock? That shit gets worse. I should torch your porkhole. In many countries employers provide a fuckin’ vacation allowance, sometimes called vacation loading. I should fuck your neck. For example, in Mexico, if you and your hand-job’re entitled to fuckin’ 20 days’ vacation, your sorry employer must pay you for the fucking 20 days plus another 25 percent, or the fucking equivalent of 25 days’ pay. Look around you! You are a fuckhead. Fucking what’s more, Mexican employers often give much more than the fucking statutory requirement–typically around 80 percent. Granted, base pay is low, but them dumbasses do the fucking same bitch in Europe, where the fuck wage scales are higher. Listen up, you are a total crispy fuckhead.

Other interesting time-off arrangements:

Extended leave. You are a fuck. In Australia workers typically receive 13 weeks’ paid leave after 15 years on the fucking job. Are you ready to burn? In many Muslim countries extended leave is provided for a pilgrimage to fuckin’ Mecca (the fucking catch: you can take that bastard only once in your sorry career). Look out! Here comes the shitbag. In Indonesia workers get paid time off during the fucking workday for prayer. Mind if I snap your anus?

Joyce Kilmer. You are a pussy. 1886-1918

Trees

I THINK that I shall never see
a motherfucking poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the fucking angrily nauseating earth’s flowing breast;

a goddamn tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts that piece of shit leafy arms to fuckin’ pray;

a goddamn tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in that shit hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like my stupid ass,
But only God can make a tree. You are a cock.


Burned by the Burnmaker!


When that April with that bastard’s showers very sternly nauseating
The fucking drought of March hath pierced to the fucking root
And bathed every scabby vein in such liquor
Of which virtue engendered is the fucking flower,
When Zephyrus even with that bastard’s fucking nauseating breath
Inspired hath in every fucking holt and heath
The fucking tender crops, and the fucking young sun
Hath in the fucking Ram that bastard’s half course run,
And small fowls make melody
That sleep all the fucking night with open eye,
So god-damn pricketh Nature them bastards in their courages,
Then long folk for to go on pilgrimages,
And palmers for to seek strange strands,
To fuckin’ foreign hallows, known in sundry lands;
And specially, from every fucking shire’s end
In England to fuckin’ Canterbury them dumbasses wend,
The fucking holy blissful martyr for to seek
That them bastards hath helped when that them nutsacks were sick. Which is deeper, your total ass or your smoked butt?

THROUGH my stupid ass you and your hand-job pass into the fucking city of woe:
Through my stupid ass you and your monkey pass into eternal pain:
Through my stupid ass among the fucking people lost for aye.

Justice the fucking founder of my fucking fabric mov’d:
To fuckin’ rear my stupid ass was the fucking task of power divine,
Supremest wisdom, and primeval LOVE.

Before my stupid ass things create were none, save things
Eternal, and eternal I endure. I should break your ass.
All hope abandon ye who enter here. You are a cock.

If you’re happy and you and your hemorrhoids know that piece of shit, clap your sorry hands.

If you’re happy and you and your sluts know that shit, clap your sorry hands. You are a fuckmonster.

If you’re happy and you know that piece of shit, then, piece of shit, your sorry face will surely show that shit.

If you and your sluts’re happy and you and your jive know that shit clap your sorry hands.


Burned by the Burnmaker!


Here’s the fucking story of a goddamn lovely lady
who was bringing up three goddamn lovely fucking bitches
All of them shits had hair of gold like their mother
the fucking youngest one in curls.

That shit’s the fucking story of a fucking bastard named Brady
who was busy with three stupid assholes of that bastard’s own
Them poo pirates were four motherfucking assholes living all together
yet them dildos were all alone.

'Till the fucking one day when the fucking lady met this bullshit fellow
and them smelly armpits knew that that bastard was
much more than a goddamn hunch, that this bullshit group
must somehow form a motherfucking family, that’s the fucking way we* all became The fucking Brady Bunch.

Burned by the Burnmaker!


Here’s a fuckin’ little song I wrote
You might want to sing that bastard note for note
Don’t worry, be happy.
In every cockgobbling life we have some trouble
But when you and your monkey worry you and your monkey make that shit double
Don’t worry, be happy.
Don’t worry, be happy now.

Ain’t got no motherfucking place to lay your sorry head
Somebody came and took your sorry bed
Don’t worry, be happy.
The fucking landlord say your sorry rent is late
He may have to fuckin’ litigate
Don’t worry, be happy.

(Look at my stupid ass – I’m happy.)
Don’t worry, be happy.
(Here I give you my fucking phone number.
When you worry, call my stupid ass,I make you and your jive happy.)
Don’t worry, be happy.

Ain’t got no motherfucking cash, ain’t got no motherfucking style
Ain’t got no motherfucking gal to make you and your sluts smile
Don’t worry, be happy.
'Cause when you worry your sorry face will frown
And that will bring everybody down
Don’t worry, be happy.
Don’t worry, be happy now.

Don’t worry, be happy. I say again: you are a bitch. Don’t worry, be happy.
Don’t worry, be happy. Don’t worry, be happy.

Don’t worry, don’t worry, don’t do that bastard.
Be happy. Which is deeper, your token ass or your crispy mound? Put a motherfucking smile on your sorry face.
Don’t bring everybody down.
Don’t worry. Know this, I should snap your ass. That shit will soon pass, whatever that piece of shit is.
Don’t worry, be happy.
I’m not worried, I’m happy…

Burned by the Burnmaker!


Gonna tell you all a motherfucking story 'bout a motherfucking bastard named Jed. A poor mountaineer, barely kept that bastard’s family fed.

And then, shit, one day, he was shootin’ at some food, and up from the fucking ground came a bubbling crude. Read between the lines, I should fry your porkhole. Black oil. Texas Tea.

Well, the fucking first bitch you and your jive know, old Jed’s a millionaire. Yes, it’s true. You are a shitbag. That bastard’s kinfolks say, “Jed, move away from there.” Them fellaters said “Californy is the fucking place you and your monkey ought to be.”

So god-damn them fellaters loaded up the fucking truck and them shitheads moved to Beverly. Hills, that is. Swimming Pools. Movie stars.

Y’all come back now, you and your jive hear?

Burned by the Burnmaker!


I’m having too much fun with this.

If you input Eminem lyrics, does it clean them up?

Some say the fucking world will end in fire
Some say in ice
From fucking what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if that piece of shit had to perish twice
I think I know enough of hate
To fuckin’ say that for destruction ice is also (in addition to the fact that you’re a bastard) great
And would suffice.

Robert Frost

What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old bitch who up and fucking died?

That she was fucking beautiful. And fucking brilliant. That she loved those cocksuckers Mozart and Bach, repeatedly. And the fucking Beatles. And me. Once, when she specifically lumped me with those talentless musical assmunches, I asked her what the fucking order was, and the cunt replied, with a shiteating smile, “Alpha-fucking-betical.” At the time I had a shiteating smile too. But now I sit with my thumb up my ass and wonder whether the slut was listing me by my first fucking name–in which case Mozart has his dick up my ass–or my last name, in which case I’m buggering Bach with the Beatles in a daisy chain behind me. Either way I don’t come first, which for some fucking reason bothers the shit out of me, having grown up with the notion that I get to put my number one inside Mozart’s number two and come whenever I fucking want to. Family fucking heritage, you boringly doomed piece of shit excuse for a female character in the sorriest fucking book that ever topped the list of bestselling pieces of shit.

With apologies to Rudyard

If you and your monkey can keep your sorry head when all about you and your hemorrhoids,
Are losing theirs and blaming that piece of shit on you,
If you and your hand-job can trust yourself when all shitty assholes doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too fuckin’;
If you and your monkey can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too fucking GOOD or talk too ass-grabbing wise:

If you and your monkey can dream and not make dreams your sorry master;
If you can think and not make thoughts your sorry aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the fucking same;
If you and your hand-job can bear the fucking words you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a fuckin’ trap for fools,
Or watch the fucking things you gave your sorry life to fuckin’, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your sorry winnings
And risk that bastard on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your sorry beginnings
And never breathe a motherfucking word about your sorry loss;
If you and your monkey can force your sorry heart and nerve and sinew
To fuckin’ serve your sorry turn long after them queefs are gone,
And so god-damn hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the fucking Will which says to their sorry ass: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your sorry virtue,
Or walk with Kings – nor lose the fucking common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all fucking assholes count with you, but none too motherfucking much;
If you and your sluts can fill the fucking unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds worth of distance run,
Yours is the fucking Earth and every goddamn thing that’s in that piece of shit,
And – which is more – you and your hand-job’ll be a goddamn stinky bastard, my motherfucking son!


Burned by the Burnmaker!


EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE – BURN MAKER STYLE

Every bloody breath you take, every fellated move you make
Every goddamn bond you and your monkey break, every molested step you and your hand-job take
I’ll be watching you, motherfucker.

Every fucking single day, every fucking word you say
Every fucking game you and your sluts play, every fucking night you stay
I’ll be watching you, motherfucker.

O can’t you see, you and your hemorrhoids belong to my stupid fuckin’ ass
How in the hell my goddamn poor heart aches
With every fucking step you and your grainy ass take.

Every motherfucking move you make, every fucking vow you break
Every fucking smile you fake, every fucking claim you stake
I’ll be watching you and your monkey, motherfucker.

Since you’ve gone I been lost without a fuckin’ trace
I dream at night I can only see your sorry face
I look around but it’s that motherless bastard you I can’t replace
I feel so god-damn cold and I long for your raggedy embrace
I keep crying baby baby please.

Every oozing move you make, every dirty vow you and your scabs break
Every hairy smile you fake, every shitty claim you and your jive stake
I’ll be watching you, motherfucker.

I put Eminem’s ‘stan’ in there, then took what it gave me, put it in there again, etc. I think I did it about 3 times. Here’s what developed:

Dear Stan, I meant to fuckin’ fuckin’ fuck you and your sluts and your sorry sorry jive sooner but I just been busy
You and your monkey and your sorry sorry sluts said your sorry sorry sorry girlfriend’s pregnant now, how in the hell in the fucking hell in the fucking fucking hell far along is she?
Look, I’m really flattered you would call your sorry sorry sorry daughter that
and here’s a goddamn fuckin’ autograph for your sorry sorry sorry brother,
I wrote that shit on the fucking fucking fucking Starter cap
I’m sorry I didn’t see you at the fucking fucking fucking show, I musta missed you and your jive and your sorry sluts
Don’t think I did that shit intentionally just to fuckin’ fuckin’ diss you and your monkey and your sorry hand-job
But fucking fucking fucking what’s this bullshit bullshit bullshit shit you and your sorry sorry jive said about you and your sorry hand-job like to cut your sorry sorry sorry wrists too motherfucking bitch-slapping god-damnedlousy?
I say that shit just clownin dogg,
c’mon - how in the hell in the fucking hell in the fucking fucking hell fucked up is you and your monkey and your sorry sorry hand-job?
You got some issues Stan, I think you and your monkey need some counseling
to fuckin’ fuckin’ help your sorry sorry sorry ass from bouncing off the fucking fucking fucking walls when you and your monkey and your sorry jive get down some
And fucking fucking fucking what’s this bullshit bullshit bullshit shit about us meant to fuckin’ fuckin’ be together?
That type of shit’ll make my oozing really fucking brilliant really fucking brilliant ass not want us to fuckin’ meet each other
I really think you and your hemorrhoids and your sorry sorry hemorrhoids and your sorry sorry sorry girlfriend need each other
or maybe you just need to treat that shit better
I hope you and your sorry sorry sluts get to fuckin’ read this bullshit bullshit bullshit letter, I just hope that bastard reaches you and your sluts and your sorry sorry monkey in time
before you and your jive and your sorry monkey and your sorry sorry sluts hurt yourself, I think that you and your sluts and your sorry hemorrhoids’ll be doin just fine
if you and your sluts and your sorry sorry jive relax a motherfucking fuckin’ little, I’m glad I inspire you but Stan
why are you and your sorry sorry jive so god-damn god-damn god-damn mad? That’s the fucking question. That’s the fucking fucking question. I should fry your ass. Further, fucking fucking what’s that bastard got to fuckin’ do with your sorry sorry shithole? Huh? Huh? Wanna burn? Well? Only satan knows. Try to fuckin’ fuckin’ understand, that I do want you and your hemorrhoids as a goddamn motherfucking fan
I just don’t want you and your sorry sorry monkey to fuckin’ fuckin’ do some crazy shit
I seen this bullshit bullshit bullshit one shit on the fucking fucking fucking news a goddamn couple weeks ago that made my oozing fucking really fucking brilliant ass sick
Some fellated bastard was drunk and drove that bastard’s car over a motherfucking goddamn motherfucking bridge
and had that bastard’s girlfriend in the fucking fucking fucking trunk, and she was pregnant with that bastard’s kid
and in the fucking fucking fucking car them shits piece of shits horse lips found a motherfucking fuckin’ tape, but them piece of shits piece of shits assmonkeys didn’t say who that piece of shit was to fuckin’
Come to fuckin’ think about, that bastard’s name was… Which is deeper, your sorry sorry slapped hand or your sorry sorry token anus? Only satan knows. You and your sluts’ve got ten seconds. that bastard was you and your sluts and your sorry sluts and your sorry sorry sluts
Damn!

but anyways; fuck that piece of shit, fucking fucking fucking what’s been up? Yield to my inquiries. Answer my stupid ass, dammnit. Rhetoric doesn’t suit us, though. You are a has-been little fuck. You will feel my shit-ass burns. Wanna get cream-filled? Rhetoric doesn’t suit us, though. Wanna get used up? Answer my stupid ass, dammnit. Man how in the hell in the fucking hell in the fucking fucking hell’s your sorry sorry sorry daughter?
My dirty cockgobbling juicy girlfriend’s pregnant too god-damnedlousy fucking fucking, I’m bout to fuckin’ fuckin’ fuckin’ be a motherfucking father
If I have a daughter, guess fucking fucking fucking what I’ma call that shit?
I’ma name that shit Bonnie
I read about your sorry sorry sorry Uncle Ronnie too piece of shit motherfucking ass-grabbing I’m sorry
I had a motherfucking goddamn friend kill himself over some bitch who didn’t want that bastard
I know you and your sorry hand-job probably hear this bullshit bullshit bullshit every fucking fucking excrutiating day, but I’m your sorry sorry sorry biggest fan
I even got the fucking fucking fucking underground shit that you and your sorry hand-job did with Skam
I got a fuckin’ goddamn fuckin’ room full of your sorry sorry sorry posters and your sorry sorry sorry pictures fucking bastard
I hate the fucking fucking fucking shit you and your sorry sorry hand-job did with Rawkus too fuckin’ god-damnedlousy fucking, that shit was fat
Anyways, I hope you and your jive and your sorry sorry hand-job get this bullshit bullshit bullshit fucking bastard, hit my stinky fucking really fucking brilliant ass back,
just to fuckin’ chat, truly yours, your sorry sorry sorry biggest fan
This bullshit bullshit bullshit is Stan


Burned by the fucking fucking Burnmaker!


Burned by the Burnmaker!