HOBOKEN MAN STANGLED BY O’REILLY, LEFT HOMELESS:

Last week, O’Reilly was on his game. He was yelling for a good two hours, bashing the secular progressive enemy, of which he can name about two members. He took credit again for winning the “War on Christmas”, and has revived this obscure but nevertheless mythical event so he can march into battle and declare victory again, never mind he was never able to do so in a U.S. Military uniform while appearing to be of an age eligible to have thrown his considerable abilities into the Vietnam war. But, in days of great American heroes like Bill O'Reilly, Rush Limbaugh, Karl Rove, Dick Cheney, etc. who needs to have been in the military to understand how to fight a war.

Ultimately, when one takes the battle from the media, into the home of a private citizen, it’s time to call one out and demand accountability. Thus, Mr. O’Reilly owes Frank Funderburke of Hoboken, New Jersey (Joisey to natives) an apology and one should be demanded damned fast!

We uncovered this story while doing an investigation of upper scale homeless shelters where we lunch every Thursday because of a spicy but delightful Gazpacho in the offering or to uncover anyone feigning poor personal hygiene.

As Mr. Funderburke explains it, he had been a fan of the Factor” for years. “I liked the “no-spin-zone” approach to political discourse”, said Funderburke, where anyone in disagreement with O’Reilly was hollered at and tagged with an array of odd but insulting names. “The man is pure genius and if anyone disagrees, just ask him.”

So, as Funderburke watched from the comfort of his wheeless double-wide, his life began to become unraveled. “I had a bag of Mr. Kinkles under one arm and a beer in the other hand, the one on the other arm. As I reached into the bag for another potato chip, I was watching O’Reilly hawk some more of his paraphernalia. He’s got his books, Culture Warrior, Kids are Americans Too, he’s got his T-shirts, bumper stickers. I even became a premium member and got the underwear with the scratch-and-sniff O’Reilly skid marks. I had it all. Well, I thought I was in the club. But, while watching, I jammed a Mr. Krinkle under the finger nail of my middle finger, and I don’t know, but I think it was because of the salt that the finger started to sting.”

Funderburke continued….”O’Reilly , I usually call him Bill, was really going off on George Soros, his head was getting really big and it looked like the studio was about to explode. So, I pull this middle finger out of the bag and hold it up, right there in front of the T.V. It was an accident, it was. Had I not jammed my finger into that Mr. Krinkle, I’d still be in my living room.

Funderburke continued: “Well, I happened to glance at the T.V. Time seemed to just stand still. Bill isn’t talking and looks mad as hell. There I am flashing my throbbing middle finger at the screen. Next thing I know, the red starts to rise in Bill’s neck and his head now is the size oh a melon….not a small melon, but a water melon. Then, he sets down his notes, stands up, and walks right through the tube and into my living room. Whoever even thought that was possible?”

It was here I was starting to get just a little bit suspicious about Funderburke’s story, because I’ve never seen O’Reilly use notes. So, I took a breather and got up to fill my thermos with some extra Gazpacho. You see, soup is free at the homeless shelter and I always try to find a way to sneak some home. I’m not about to contribute to homeless obesity.

When I returned to the table, Funderburke had regained his composure and appeared to have come into a large plate of garlic bread sticks which he was cramming into his mouth like there was no tomorrow, and he was really worked into a lather. He’s waving his arms about his head and spewing chewed up garlic sticks everywhere.

“O’Reilly started bitch-slapping me all around my own place. He was screaming names at me, calling me a secular progressive and a pin-headed liberal. Then, he told me I was a Kool-Aid drinker! I don’t think he was being very fair or balanced.”

“He grabbed my brand new copy of the Hoboken Yellow Pages and began to whack me upside the head. I felt like I had let a Jehovah’s Witness into the double wide and he was knocking me about with three pound edition of the Watch Tower. There was beer everywhere and he bag of Mr. Krinkles went flying and got all ground up in the carpet with the beer and cigarette butts. I always regretted smoking after reading about what happened to the Johnsons twins. Anyway, it was here I passed out. I don’t know how long I was out and I don’t remember seeing O’Reilly leave, but a few hours later, I came to.”

“So, lying on the floor, on my back, stuck in a mix of potato chip starch, beer and ashes, the place smelled like pure hell. But, the smell could have been my 350 pound wife standing over me. She pulled her cell phone out of the crease in her obese earlobe and started screaming. I told her bout the whole O’Reilly deal. She said, ‘ I’ve had enough you miserable son-of-a-bitch’, which was actually quite a compliment because you have to be a man to be a son-of-a-bitch and she never considered me much of a man. As for O’Reilly, he won’t return any of my calls.

“That’s how I got to be homeless,” Funderburke iterated.

As for me, I don’t know whether to believe the guy or not. It all sounds fairly logical, but I have nevertheless decided that free Gazpacho is getting just a tad bit expensive for my taste. And, just o be safe, I won’t be watching any more of the “O’Reilly Factor”.

Illegal Immigration Problem Solved.

The problem which has stymied politicians for over the past 35 years has been partially solved at last. Recently, a huge public outcry put a stop to the concept of giving driver’s licenses to illegal aliens. Now, I’ve NEVER heard of any state GIVING a driver’s license to anyone. But, apparently that’s what was in the works.

Well, what has completely escaped me before was the awareness that the reason illegals came here to begin with was to drive! I had always thought it was to work, but in retrospect, it all makes sense. Some of the places they come from don’t even have roads, let alone cars.

As usual, we have only dealt with part of the problem though. If we are going to completely stop the influx of illegals, we can’t just stop them from getting driver’s licenses. We must also stop them from getting cars. So, in order to be effective, we must be willing to execute any car dealer for treason who has been known to be dealing cars to illegals. The car dealers will try to resist this probably by claiming it’s not their role to be immigration enforcement officials. I say “balderdash”. They will say it’s impossible to tell if a buyer is an American or foreigner. Well, it’s this simple…if they are overweight and drive off with one hand on the wheel and the other on a cell phone, they are Americans.

Within no time at all, we Americans will be able to gain back all the jobs that the illegals took from us. You know, the jobs we shipped to India a few years ago that the illegals then came here and took away from us. I never could figure out how that deal worked.

Public Smokers are Really Getting on my Nerves!

So, I went to the doctor recently and he gave me this lung test. When I'm finished, he says it's time I take the initiative to quit spending so much on cigarettes. I told him that I've NEVER bought a cigarette, EVER! Well, he said the inications were quite clear, that I was up to two packs a day. It didn't take long to realize, I'm up to two packs a day from 2nd hand smoke. What kind of a deal is that? I'm gettin' lung disease from a bunch of stinky breaths. The doctor told me I could suffer the same fate as the Johnsons twins. I said, 'Oh, NO!"

Basically, I've always been a live and let live kind of person. But, sometimes what others decide to do while thinking it only affects them, has dire consequences for those of whom they are closest. Such it was with the Johnsons twins.

Al and Jacob Johnsons. They were Siamese twins, thus the "s" on the end of their last name. Al was a great baseball player. He played catcher and Jacob played right field.
Al was a student of the game and lived his life accordingly. Jacob, on the other hand, was a fool!
Infact, considering how they were joined, Jacob actually was kind of “on the other hand”.

Anyway, Al was in bed every night by 9:00 p.m. Jacob was out all hours of the night carousing with hookers and smoking women. Within no time at all, Jacob took up smoking himself and fell out of shape. Al continued to excel and participated in the International Special Olympics in Costa Rica one year playing two positions at the same time. He of course had to drag Jacob around the bases and such, but he was really that good.

Eventually, Jacob dropped out of the sport and became an accountant in New Jerk City. His hell-bent-for-life attitude and lethargic lifestyle resulted in his death at an early age.
Al’s performance suffered quickly due to his despair and having to drag Jacob’s corpse around like a big bag of potatoes. ( I love the word “potato.” Dan Quayle ruined his political future by telling a grade school child he had misspelled the word because the child had left an “e” off the end of it. Actually, the child was correct and Vice President Quayle was wrong....that is unless you want to put an “s” on the end of it. Then you must include the “e” first! The same does not hold true for the last name of Al and Jacob Johnsons. When you want to ad the “s”, you don’t use an “e” first. That’s because it’s their name and the rules are out on names.) So, that's it in a nuttshell. if you don't want to be a siamese twin, it's best not to smoke. Wait a minute! That doesn't make any sense...I'll have to go back to the doctor and ask him what the hell he was trying to say!