At Least I'm Not French

Well, it's true. I'm not F*****g American, as Basil's Blog correctly points out. In fact, according to the test (courtesy of Pirate's Cove) I'm a Canadian-Baiting Uber-American. OK, so the quiz wasn't really designed for people who aren't at least a little American. I suppose that Canadian Baiter is better than Un-American Commie Pinko.





Meanwhile, I've been following crafty angles in my war against Basil's Blog and his evil Coalition. For instance, I bet 10 whole English pounds on a game of football today, and almost doubled my money. I later bet my winnings on another game and won again. I sent the money back to my bank, with a healthy 170% profit. See, while Basil's horde are content to fruitlessly juggle Google rankings, I sit back, drink beer, watch Animal House, eat a few of those microwaveable Chicago Town pizzas, and bet money on professional sports (which is perfectly legal here - how's that for freedom?).

I've lost the train of thought that led to me winning this war, but it'll come back to me. I'm too full of pizza and beer to think right now.

But - before I go.

The Niggas at DFNCTSC have Paris Hilton's cell phone number while Jamie Lynn Spears naked dances in strip clubs in Ohio with midget strippers, which were the springboards for the careers of many of the young ladies you can see baring all in many free big tit sites - those magazines that have girls big tit in them.

Oh, and Gizoogle.