Cartoons are awesome. They are some of the best creations this Earth has seen besides beer, carrot cake, and bitches from the Red Light District that will eat your asshole with a spoon. Without cartoons, life would be too serious, too unreal.

It’s cool to see the creativity of an artist’s imagination in the form of animated spunk. It’s also a good means of expressing ideas that one would not have the cahones to say in real life. Cahones means balls. Nuts. Inhabitants of the Blessed union of Scrotums. Nut cups. Those things that turn blue when an insurmountable amount of pressure is placed upon them. Cohunes. Big fat Mexican cahones. Big, hulking Mandingo cahones.

One of my favorite cartoon characters is Daffy Duck. Daffy Duck had the worst of luck in most of Mel Blanc’s comic short takes. The irony is that he is a black duck and always ends up with the short end of the stick. He comes up with the most bobble headed ways to get famous, one of his personal favorites is outshining his nemesis Bugs Bunny. Personally, I think the fastest way to get famous is to get naked, wrap your penis in Saran Wrap and sit Indian style in Centre Square are repeat the phrase “It’s the mist monster, I’m in trouble now!”

But somehow, Bugs always seemed to get the best of Daffy. Maybe it was because he represents a Peach booty and Daffy represents a Negroid.

Notice Daffy Duck and the backwards cap, representing an ignorant black in America who still doesn’t have a clue that he is called a worthless buffoon because of how he carries himself. Some people just come straight out and said Daffy dressed like an immature Negroid.

And Porky Pig represents the porky, overstuffed, fat ass homosexual, whose gay smile suggests that he has more in store for Daffy than giving him the egg he’s holding in his fat hands. If anyone has a beef with society today, it’s big homosexuals with chubby legs and fat hands and Negroids that wear their hats backwards...

And this is one of the greatest memories of all time. “It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown” went down as one of the biggest hoaxes of all time. It ranks right up there with Orson Wells and “The War of the Worlds” shenanigan, where this broken down, alcoholic Peach booty got on the radio and convinced the public that aliens were landing in New Jersey. Were people fucking gullible or what? Makes me think of all the dumb asses who fancy themselves up in long coats and big hats and line up to go to a huge church to listen to some bastard preacher tell them stories about Arch Angel Michael and the Three Billy Goats gruff. These slobbering preachers spread peanut butter on their anuses and jack off to kiddy porn in “the back room.” Once finished, they clean the jizz from their holy hands, put on a white robe, and then preach to the congregation about how Jesus can save them from Hellfire, provided they deposit their entire life savings into the preacher’s hand-knit church basket. All the while I’m sitting in the back row laughing at my mother’s humongous church hat and the fact that the preacher has jizz stains on his white robe and chin.

I sometimes feel like pulling a religious man aside and beating the living piss out of him. As a matter of fact, the next time a Jehovah’s witness come a ringin’ my doorbell early Sunday morning, I going to snatch the huge fucking church hat with the built in flowers off her head slap her in the grill. I think before I got lost in that anger I was talking about the Great Pumpkin.

I tell you if someone made me freeze my ass off with them waiting for something to show up in a pumpkin patch for four hours and it never arrived, I would have no choice but to pull her hat off her monstrous-sized skull and slap her in the grill. If she wasn’t wearing a hat then I would just slap her silly with my penis, kinda the way your father made your mother slap his penis against her teeth and gums during the foreplay that preceded your conception. Or kinda like Barney made Betty slap, or Bart made Betty Bop prove herself, or before Marge slapped Hammerman.

See this guy!

It’s Joshua DeJesuitz. I found him all these years later. He is now living in New York under the alias Pedro Morales, drives a red convertible with the picture of Jesus on the hood, and from time to time, he travels over the Brooklyn Bridge to meet this Dominican dude that resembles Superman before he fell off a horse and broke his neck.