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2/12/2014 1:47:00 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Feb 12 2014 1:47PM
SUBJECT:Fungal GIFspiration


Sometimes, an animated GIF can inspire one to besmirch a beautiful Josh Groban song. Exhibit A:

You raise me up, so I can spurt like fountains;
You raise me up and walk on bruise-ed knees
I am strong, when I plunge between your loins
You raise me up…like a fungus sucking tree.




11/8/2011 10:11:53 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Jun 27 2011 1:29PM
SUBJECT:Broken Breville 800CPXL


Dear Breville,

I purchased the Breville 800CPXL on December 22nd 2009 and have used it every 2 weeks since.

Indeed, I liked it so much that on January 15th, 2010 I purchased another as a gift.

Since then, I have used the 800CPXL roughly 40 times to juice 1 gallon of grapefruit/orange mix every 2 weeks with the occasional batch of lemons/limes thrown in for some summer lemonade or margaritas respectively. The 800CPXL has held up like a champ. Until today.

Suddenly, the 800CPXL began making fearsome grinding noise during rotation which was indicative to me that the gearing was catching intermittently. The same problem (and apparently the same gearing) one gets in the automatic garage door motor when one lives in Chicago's winter temperatures. Looking at the Amazon product page (2nd image) http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000A76VCY one can see that this problem isn't mine alone. Given that poor Deborah can't seem to find replacement parts, and that the gear is not available through Breville's own “parts” section on the website, I am wondering how I can repair my beloved juicer.

Obviously, it is out-of-warranty given my purchase date but I am hopeful that the creators of such fine kitchen technology as Breville would be able to help me salvage my $200 investment.

I can be reached at this email address.

By post:

(address)

Or mobile telephone:

(mobile)

I look forward to hearing from you.




10/31/2011 3:22:26 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: 'Alma @ Yelp HQ' [mailto:no-reply@yelp.com]
SENT: Jun 7 2011 5:27PM
SUBJECT:Message from Yelp HQ


JUN 07, 2011 | 03:27PM PDT

Hi Food,

I'm writing to let you know that your account was flagged by the Yelp community, and our Support team has determined that there are promotional aspects to your account which currently violate our Terms of Service (http://www.yelp.com/static?p=tos).

Personal accounts cannot be used in a promotional manner, and the links to your blog that you've included in your reviews and nickname violate Yelp's Terms of Service (http://www.yelp.com/static?p=tos).

We'd appreciate it if you could remove the promotional links by June 14, 2011. If they are not removed by this date, we'll unfortunately have to remove the reviews.

Please note that you are welcome to post a link in your profile under "My Blog or Website", but links outside of your profile such as in reviews are considered promotional content.

Regards,
Alma
Yelp User Support
San Francisco, California

Yelp Official Blog | http://officialblog.yelp.com
Yelp Frequently Asked Questions | http://www.yelp.com/faq
Yelp for Business Owners | http://www.yelp.com/business
For your reference this is Case #: 67569




11/18/2009 10:53:47 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Kathi C
SENT: Nov 17 2009 10:53PM
SUBJECT:Weight Gain


Dear Helga,

I've always been fit, but recently, I've been stressed out and working a lot, and I've put on 10 pounds. I'm horrified by it, but my boyfriend says that he can't tell the difference. I find that extremely hard to believe. Are guys really that nonchalant about weight?




10/28/2009 4:17:45 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Oct 28 2009 4:17PM
SUBJECT:Michael Jackson Obituary




HE lived the life of Peter Pan
HIS life HE filled with toys.
Shared HIS home with Chimpanzees
And HIS bed with grade-school boys.

Against genetics most of us
Are impotent and flaccid.
But HE triumphed all HIS life
Over HIS nucleic acid.

Expunging family from his face
And their stink from in his nose
HE cut away the human race
And far above HE rose.

HE must have come from stars above
Thought fans for all it's worth.
HIS whole brood looked all alike,
Yet like no one else on earth.

Who else but HE could walk the moon
And dance with hair aflame's?
Who else but HE could sing a tune
HIS voice a sexy dame's?

Who else but HE could rock a mask
Before twas hip with SARs?
Who else but HE could even ask
For a dance that grabs “cigars?”

In the sunset of HIS singing,
In the twilight above all,
HIS esteemed and holy highness
Said yes to propofol.

And in HIS death the curtains rose
On a torrent of hippo-poos.
The endless, pointless specials
That masquerade as news.

We want to wish HIM fairy-well,
Send him off with reaper grim.
But fans'll never ease their grip
Like on the KING before HIM.




2/24/2009 6:12:49 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Feb 24 2009 6:12PM
SUBJECT:The Cliche of Gym



I work out at a place without frills or salad bars. No spas or marble showers. And least of all, no January workout stars. The people you see today are the same people you see in June and in October. No one needs to make end-of-year bargains with themselves and their respective savior to go in and serve their time. So why does it come to pass that these men (and here, they are mostly men) who seem to have mastered the art of getting their body fat into the gym bear living exhibit to the same clichés that you find at your local Equinox? How dost they come? Let us count the ways.

1. The Bi-Bench Wonders – The BBWs are tragic specimens who believe that doing the same exercise with the same weight every single day suddenly, after a few decades, will yield tremendous results. Either that or their hippocampi can't form new memories when drunk on lactic acid and thus long forgotten is the fact that they did bench yesterday and the day before and the one before and…

2. The Ultimate Fantasy Fighters – Long years ago, TUFFs were on the endangered species list. But now the time comes for them to redeem their place. The popularity of MMA has given a new birth of freedom to anyone with either a pair of feet or fists. And not just around the heavy bag. At any moment between sets, while doing crunches or simply walking around the aisles, TUFFs may break into a menacing combination of strikes, kicks or submission moves against enemies unseen. In a small fraction of cases, the impromptu kata is impressive. The majority, however, bear comic resemblance to the dance of those who walk face-first into a cobweb.

3. The Denim Warriors – In every gym, at any hour, one runs the risk of encountering this closet hipster peacocking around the free-weights in their too-cool-for-squats jeans. As with the tail of the aforementioned bird, these casual workout celebrities believe that a routine in spite of the denim constraint demonstrates survival of the fitness to a potential mate. Luckily the prospective “mate” is just another dude putting a large gaping calm before the sperm.

4. The Screamers – They look the same. Act the same. And mostly lift the same. But for every dozen lifters who would glide through a routine unnoticed, a shocking few will suddenly vocalize a repetition with such force that it is a mystic wonder that energy remains to lift anything. A wonder, that is, until one sees the “weight” and blushes on the screamer's behalf.

5. The Girlfriend – The Girlfriend is not a member. The Girlfriend does not lift weights. The Girlfriend may not even be a girl. What he or she does is prove that weightlifting knowledge is not a reproductive selection criterion. With gleaming eyes and vacant skulls they watch their oracles expound on the principles of training as a pupil does a Jedi master. Only Yoda lifted a starship out of the damn swamp. Didn't catch him needing a spot for 95 pounds.

6. The Marathon Shorts – These leggy prancers are invariably male retirees who, through a lifetime of aerobics, crafted their stems and hindquarters into inhuman firmness. This firmness contrasts sharply with that of the inevitable scrota exhibition and provides a stark reminder that the only running still in practice is to drain the bladder. 5 times a night.

7. The Spandex Shorts – It must be mentioned that at a time and place when/where bicycles didn't serve as moving targets, your satirist has been lazy and thus guilty of this crime. But we grow and heal and eventually realize that spandex, like tank tops, comes in all sizes but only two genders: girl and gay. Pulling on another pair of shorts is two steps for man, and a giant sigh of relief for everyone around.

8. The Coffee Sipsters – Morning, noon or night, there will always be someone walking around the gym sipping coffee from a trendy cup. As with all other distractions that are supposed to disguise one's lack of actual weightlifting, this one is the one I understand the least. One doesn't need to go anywhere to increase the heart-rate chemically.

9. The Commandos – The active ingredient for these specimens, is military camouflage that fit perfectly 2 years and 20 pounds ago. But the only thing The Commandos are veteran of is the surplus store rip-off. Fortunate indeed because with a reserve corps oozing about like a snowman in a Florida winter, we'd be one Middle East invasion shy of our own Decline and Fall. And melt.

10. The Hardcores – These specimen, although rare at the trendy gym/spas, multiply in geometric proportion to the facility's grunginess. Self-appointed experts in all things weighted, The Hardcore dress only in Mr. Universe attire and are always fatigued for hauling about such an arsenal of accessories: several pairs of gloves, fasteners, belts, wraps for every joint, and the mysterious gallon of strangely colored liquid. On the rare occasion one might actually catch a Hardcore doing an exercise, it will always make up in strangeness what it lacks in resistance. Presumably that 7.25 pound dumbbell will lock in that final line of definition on the post anterior joint of the index finger.
Keep your resolutions and you too may find a sample that we haven't covered. If so, please write to me and tell me all about it. As in high school or prison or anywhere else where large groups of intellectually-challenged people are convinced of their supremacy, gyms have cliques and cliques have rules. It is up to us to make fun of them.

Love and Supersets,

Helga Mohammed el-Salami




12/30/2008 4:36:56 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Dec 30 2008 4:36PM
SUBJECT:The Wrestler: A Complaint


Dear Mr. Ebert,

I would like to lodge a formal complaint against you for your deceptive and totally inappropriate review of The Wrestler. It is my recommendation that you be disciplined for conduct unbecoming Roger Ebert and forced to paper-cut Mickey Rourke with a 30lb printout of your review.

As your regular readership can attest, you have, in your advancing age, given a slew of misguiding four-star reviews. Exhibits a-c this year alone are: In Burges, The Dark Knight and Taxi to the Dark Side. But The Wrestler is worse. ‘Tis a siren amongst songbirds. A grizzly amongst goldfish. And a fully-priced retail assault on Ebert integrity.

It is not permissible for an Ebert Review to segregate a brilliant “acting” performance from the underlying material especially if said material is an ocean of clichéd compost. You did not do so in Training Day or Hannibal even though peer pressure no doubt called for it. So how did it come to pass that you gave a perfect score to a horse-poopy film based on Mickey playing Rourke? Mr. Ebert, thou hadst erred. Let us count the ways.

How many of us can claim to never have wanted to punch our boss or assault a customer? We don't, not because it would make for poor drama in the tedium of our lives but because we do not have the luxury of walking out of an old job into a new with cheering fans along the way. Moral of the story is: boo-hoo, life sucks. Amount of "sucks" might be inversely proportional to the square of the W2 but not always. A case study in "life sucks" is as uninteresting to me as the opinions of The View Crew and should be to you as well. You have seen and reviewed far too many good films to be roped in by bad ones no matter how sympathetic you find the actor. Not that anyone was acting. Search for "wrestler" and replace with "actor" and we can dispense with the fiction altogether and call the spade an autobiography. Or something like that.

Mr. Ebert, you have dishonored the four-star rating and we, who have ingested every word you have ever written, must adjust to inflation of Ebert stars as we have to that of monetary values. Your crime is genocide on reviews still unborn. Great is your sin.

Sincerely,


Helga Mohammed el-Salami




10/7/2008 6:53:50 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Oct 7 2008 6:53PM
SUBJECT:Ron Paul's The Revolution - A Dissent


Dear Dr. Paul,

I commend you on your new book: The Revolution. On your courage to be the lone voice of dissent. On your faith in the Constitution. Your grasp of economics. And not least of all: your prose. As I finished up the final chapter I knew that I would spend the next few weeks helplessly fueling the flames of your intellectual napalm. Nearly everything you say is right. Nearly every claim you make is accurate. They make sense to an average reader even though he may have paid more attention to his attractive classmates than his economics lectures. And yet, I could not help but see the great harm that your manifesto could bring.

You see, Dr. Paul, there are some ideas that mean well but are still so dangerous that they are best abandoned before they unleash an epidemic. Communism comes to mind. As does religion. In theory, both work for improvement in the condition of human societies, but in practice, have done little except systematically enslave and exterminate most of humanity. Your ideas, although nothing like the two killers aforementioned can certainly exterminate our way of life.

When I was learning how to formulate a thesis, the instructors never let the students read the critics until they had a thesis of their own. The reason is that many young people read a brilliantly argued position and gravitate towards it even though it could very well be wrong. Dead wrong. Because young brains are filled with last night's football scores, social networking profiles and Britney Spears, they have limited perspective to bring to bear on a hypothesis. But yours is here and it sounds great so why not sign up? All the cool people are doing it. Their brains are desolate, and to the thirsty, even sea water tastes delicious.

Our disagreement is simple. You believe in the inherent good of your countrymen whereas I am convinced of their incredible, unbelievable stupidity. It is one thing to seek the “spirit” of a 2 century old document in guiding modern government but it is a whole other matter to delay action while seeking consensus from 300 million imbeciles. I understand the concept of representative democracy but each time I see it play I cannot help but feel sorry for the dog that has a constitutional obligation to let the tail wag it. Please understand that I do not regard our Constitution as broken. What's broken is our population. They can't be bargained with, they can't be reasoned with but they're not goal-driven like the Terminator. They're as care-free as the house cats. And since their walnut brains lack the necessary interface for reason the only way to govern this feline herd is through deception and obfuscation. Shine the laser dot in the direction you want them to go and watch them run! Gay marriage over there! RUN! VOTE! Tax Cut X over here! VOTE! The framers designed a government to serve a people that is concerned, informed and intelligent. If you look at America today and see it to be even one of the three then I believe your passion has triumphed over reason.

The same applies to your position on sound money. Surely, the best way to avoid spending is to ACTUALLY spend. Warfare may rest in peace. How many of our countrymen would cheerfully write a check for their share of Iran? Or Iraq? Or Afghanistan? Now ask yourself how many would pony up for Rwanda, or Yugoslavia or even the ship pirated off of the Somali coast. I bet fewer than you think. Non-intervention sometimes carries a steep price denominated in human suffering. Wait long enough and it's lapping at our shores. Are you so certain that your constituents would not rather live the illusion of benevolent heroes than face their true reflections as petty monsters? Such illusions are not cheaply bought and what better way to pay than to institute a tax that few know about and even fewer understand? It's the government's money! Let's spread it around!

It is true that armies and warfare have always been, due to their cost, the exclusive domain of governments. They would clearly decline with a Paul monetary policy. But what about science? I hate to imagine the decline in research of all kinds that would occur as soon as the bulk of our citizens knew how much it cost them. Cancer? Why should I pay? I don't know anyone with it. AIDS? Only gay people get it. Malaria? I don't visit the tropics. I would be shocked if, with completely sound money, humans could have ever launched a satellite, made it to the moon or built a Large Hadron Collider. Who would pay for something they don't understand and/or failed in high school? The veil of private enterprise is quickly pierced by the repeated failure that is characteristic of all great journeys of discovery and nothing but inflationary government can long endure its filthy wake and deadly undertow. You and I both know that it would not end there. Mass population requires mass production which requires mass consumption which, whether we like it or not, requires a spender of last resort. With no credit limit.

All that aside, I was impressed by your manifesto. It was the first, and likely last, time in my lifetime that a bona-fide politician has brought up real issues instead of regurgitating the stupid petty garbage currently enlisted to divide the flock and win elections. Thank you. But so long as voting is as much a right as breathing, the ballot box will ever be the scythe with which the foolish cut down the intelligent. The penalty is steep and growing. Eventually, enough people might notice. But so what if they do? Our society operating on truth and sound economic principles will always be reduced to the lowest common intellect.

Joseph Marie de Maistre wrote that every country has the government it deserves. We certainly deserve every pork-barrel of ours. Leaders should not be judged on the eloquence of their voice, nor the color of their skin, nor, with apologies to Dr. King, even the contents of their character. They, as all people, should be judged exclusively on the contents of their minds and when we collectively wise up and realize this, perhaps then, we will deserve a president like you.

Dr. Paul, may you live so long.

Sincerely,

Helga Mohammed el-Salami




9/29/2008 5:08:01 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: jack whiddon
SENT: Sep 22 2008 2:38PM
SUBJECT:fuck the army


So you guys are now a conduit for army recruitment.

Well there goes any cred you may have had..

I don't need to see that shit - can you please remove me from your
mailing list immediately.

In any case, this site had become tired.

Goodbye forever (i hope..)




5/13/2008 7:59:46 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: May 13 2008 7:59PM
SUBJECT:Beso Restaurant Can Beso My Big Fat Tranny Ass


Beso Restaurant
Attn: James Vold, GM, Eva Longoria, ???
6350 Hollywood Blvd
Hollywood CA 90028

Dear Mr. Vold,

On Friday, May 9th, in the year of our Lord and Savior, 2008, I dined in your new Hollywood restaurant: Beso and toward the end of dinner, I would have enjoyed nothing more than to present myself to the chef, remove my trousers and force him to Beso my big, hairy transsexual ass with a pinch of salt.

It is common for a celebrity to open a restaurant that she “does not want to be one of those celebrity restaurants” only to have it then follow the script as closely as a teleprompter. Naturally, the scene was great. Lots of the requisite pretty people trying their hardest to look casual and fabulously well designed interior trying its hardest not to look ethnic. Who could ask for anything more? From a bar. From a restaurant, one could, and indeed should, ask for a little extra.

We were seated 30 minutes late even though our table was “being set” for at least 15. I assumed that the rage in Hollywood has become hiring bus staff that move like glaciers. But then, my partner in dine was bumped at least a dozen times by various employees who were moving around far too quickly to avoid obstacles and wore the dedicated expression known to waiters (and evidently glacial bus persons) that discourages stupid customer requests such as: “May I have some more water?” Where were these people when we needed a table? They could have bumped other diners clean across the dining room and then reset the table like a champion cup stacker.

Then came the food. How did thou gag me? Let me count the ways:


  • If one charges US$14 for a tablespoon of guacamole, one should probably lace it with illegal narcotics or gold flakes or something. There is no such thing as a U$14 tablespoon of guac. Or was the price in Pesos? Damn. I should have looked.


  • Being white and stupid, I sometimes can't tell between products of Indian and Mexican DNA. But I can certainly tell between their food. Why serve Nan bread at a Latin-themed restaurant?


  • Grilled shrimp should require neither a cleaver nor a personal crab claw to enjoy. All it should require is a little prep work in the kitchen. Anything else isn't kosher.


  • Skirt steak is skirt steak. It's either raw or burnt. When did people start getting the impression that skirt steak was Filet Mignon? I guess when it started costing US$29.



Overall, if I can say one thing to help out your future bloated customers it is this: LAY OFF THE SALT! I seriously thought that I was going to shrivel unless I got some water pronto but, of course, no matter how prominently I placed my empty glass, no one could be bothered to refill it. I looked for salvation in the remnants of the Nan bread which seemed to have (only) 4 spoons full of salt sprinkled on but definitely could have used an intravenous drip after finishing my skirt steak. It may have skirted on many things but covered the old Sodium Chloride as thoroughly as a long denim skirt covers an Orthodox chick.

If I were smarter and more driven, I'd open up a bottled water stand on your sidewalk. Then I'd have the most profitable 9 months in business history.

Love,

Helga Mohammed el-Salami




3/3/2008 5:18:17 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: lee kosow
SENT: Mar 2 2008 6:41AM
SUBJECT:Farewell From a Non-Fan


Helga- First time ever for me- Liquid Generation sent to Spam Box- Filtered out. How prophetic- that same issue prompting your hiatus (hopefully). But I drug it from the offals and enjoyed each word.. Sadly, human conscience has caught up with preoperative transexuals. Enjoy what is left of our boring lives now that you don't enter our computers anymore. Boo Hoo. Lee




2/16/2008 12:00:00 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Feb 16 2008 12:00AM
SUBJECT:As Species Evolve, This Newsletter Hibrenates


Greetings infidels.

It's Helga Mohammed el-Salmi, Liquid Generation's eulogizing uncircumcised pre-operative transsexual and as I write this on February 12th, in the year of our lord and divine savior Jesus H. Christ, 2008, we at Liquid Generation prepare to celebrate the 199th birthday of one Charles Robert Darwin, a British naturalist most famous for marrying his first cousin.

Since old Bearded D., (as he was known in the ghetto) also contributed the expression "natural selection" to the lexicon, we thought we'd celebrate our own version of said selection by informing you of an endangered species that is temporarily going extinct. This Newsletter.

Yes, you read correctly. After 385 weeks of bringing you the best of the Internet, our venerable newsletter shall go the way of the mastodon in an Indian village on March 1st, in the year of your lord and savior, Jesus H. Christ, 2008. No longer will you wake up on Saturday mornings and rush eagerly to your computer to be amused by the ravings of Liquid Generation's lunatics. Please collect yourself and let me explain.

No, we are not going on strike in protest of the writers ending theirs. No, we have not unionized to protest inhumane working conditions that would make Upton Sinclair spew his undigested cookies. Nor are we succumbing to incessant harassment by lawyers for Joe Francis, Courtney Love or Scientology. We are however, succumbing to a brave new world. Just like smokers are persecuted to the ends of Hades, which I hear has recently become smoke-free, bulk mailers are stuffed into the bit-bucket equivalent with an electronic Cerberus waiting at the router level to turn our electrons into plasma. No matter how quadruple to the 9th power opt-in you try to keep your lists, a bunch of clowns who routinely release games about boobs and then editorialize on the merits of Darwinian incest stand no chance of getting past the dullards poring over traffic at Hotmail. Until, at least, such time as the mailer bribes Microsoft with sender score bonds or EMAIL_IDs or whatever racket they come up with next.

So be it.

But you have not seen our extinction quite yet. Indeed, unlike the mega fauna that was too stupid to survive people who traded Manhattan Island for some beads, we are turning into spores. In this state, we will survive for eons with no food or water beyond a Chipotle Burrito every couple of days and when the time is right, we shall release our full potential like avian influenza in a chicken shack. The fittest will survive and judging by how fat and ugly most everyone is, we at Liquid Generation are a hell of a lot more fit than all of you.

Love,

Helga Mohammed el-Salami

P.S. This is the third to the last newsletter, so savior it.




1/28/2008 6:09:44 PM

1/28/2008 5:09:44 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Dennis Williams
SENT: Jan 27 2008 3:20PM
SUBJECT:Dennis Williams - Newsletter Love!


I hope that article about Australia was written tongue in cheek, because coming from a country that gives us Days of Our Lives amongst other television crap, drives on the wrong side of the road, ruins the English language and can't make a proper cup of cappucino coffee plus the dumbest president of all time. Fix your own back yard first.




1/26/2008 12:00:00 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Jan 26 2008 12:00AM
SUBJECT:10 Things I Hate About Australia


Attention Royal Tasmanian Infidels,

I am Helga Mohammed el-Salami, Liquid Generation's anti-depressive uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual and I want you to take a moment and consider Australia. It is a cruel and inhospitable place. When Freud was writing about nature rising up cruel, majestic and inexorable he was surely thinking of the outback. Only he was writing in defense of civilization. It's too bad Australia doesn't really have one. The story of its founding is a tale of woe and starvation and extermination. It should not surprise anyone that Australia is thoroughly hated by the world. Its origins are the dregs of British society (where even the creme is fraught with problems) and rotten roots ALWAYS yield rotten fruits. So without further adieu, here are the top 10 things I hate about Australia:
1. Geological personality crisis. Is it a country or a continent? No one can make up their mind. You can always escape this conundrum the easy way: overdose on prescriptions.

2. Crocodiles. First came Crocodile Dundee then the Crocodile Hunter. Why do these people spend so much of their time in this love affair with prehistoric reptiles? Line them all up and sting them through the heart for all I care.

3. Fox News. The Murdoch clan has transformed the business of telling us about traffic and weather into a hydra with more heads that the Japanese Post Office. So what if people like it? How many Manhattan townhomes do the Murdochs need to buy before the world realizes that News Corp is one big, global Opium den? Lay your flowers down now. Then send in the wrecking ball.

4. Tasmanians. No, not the ugly, incommunicative monster that graced your Saturday morning cartoons. The ugly, incommunicative monsters that graced your Outback kangaroo steakhouse. With all the ugliness and kangaroos, it's no wonder the lot of them committed suicide. Only no pansy-ass prescription meds for them. They did it the old-fashioned way: suicide by white man.

5. Half-hour time zone. Territories that can't round to the nearest hour should just be nuked until there isn't anything left but sand. I'm not sure anyone in the Northern Territory would notice.

6. Tuna. Who would have thunk that the world's southern desert would be the kingdom of the world's most delicious fish? Port Lincoln has more millionaires than any other place in the world per capita and they all smell like tuna. Apparently, they go together like Koala and eucalyptus.

7. Ozone Hole. I think Chlorofluorocarbons were the greatest thing since DDT but NOOOOOO...these punk-ass Australians had to start whining about ozone holes over their heads. What's next? Complaining about global outbacking?

8. The Great Barrier Reef. This oceanic Dark Knight has cast more shadow over what would otherwise be some great exploitative industries. I don't care how many coral polyps built the damn thing. They're just about as ugly as the polyps in your grandpa's colon.

9. Kangaroos. They're mean. They're ugly. And they taste like ass. I suppose that they are Oceania's equivalent of cats. How else could idiot Aussie parents name their children Heathcliff ?

10. Outback Steakhouse. Is this a dinner experience or a Monster's Ball? You can have the bloomin onion to put you to sleep with its 3000 calories (sodium thiopental), drink about 50 Foster's beers to paralyze your muscles (pancuronium bromide) and top it all off with some abominable $14 steaks that will stop your heart faster than potassium chloride. Maybe this penal colony wasn't so bad after all. Only I'm not a convict. Yet.

11. Westfield. Probably Australia's biggest conglomerate after News Corp., everywhere you go there's a Westfield shopping mall waiting to take your suburbanite money. I spend so much in Century City that I feel like I'm living on top of broke-ass mountain. Especially in West Hollywood.


So there you have it. Australia sucks big-time monkey privates. Print that out and snort it with a stingray barb.

Helga Mohammed el-Salami




1/7/2008 6:27:11 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Michael Bowen
SENT: Jan 7 2008 12:23PM
SUBJECT:: Illegal Music Downloads


This e-mail along with others is now in the hands of the Assistant DA's office of Harris Co, Texas. Look forward to being contacted by Charles "Chuck" Rosenthal's office. E-mail scams like this one are being prosecuted to the fullest extent by law. Good luck

----- Original Message ----
From: Stanley Ruberg
To:
Sent: Monday, January 7, 2008 12:06:03 PM
Subject: Illegal Music Downloads

From: Bureau of Entertainment Executive Rights
Subject: Bureau of Entertainment Executive Rights Case No.: hqctkt7yihios5tx

Illegal Music Downloads

Bureau of Entertainment Executive Rights
1/7/2008 12:06:03 PM

Mr. Mike Bowen
LAN No.:
Computer ID:
Case No.:

Mr. Bowen:

Recent documents received by this bureau indicate you have been involved in the unauthorized downloading and transferring of licensed music. Federal laws mandate that you immediately cease and desist all illegal activities pertaining to music theft. Further, you are required by law to pay all incurred penalties in conjunction with Amendment 34-C, officially passed on March 10, 2007.

In accordance with state jurisdictions, your failure to pay these penalties in full within 30 days of receipt of this notice will result in a warrant for your arrest. We are also required by law to inform you that a second offense will result in a minimum jail sentence of 90 days.

Penalties incurred in your particular case may be reviewed on our government Web site. All cases are deemed confidential. Penalties are assessed by each individual download, charged at a nonnegotiable rate of $1,200 per infraction. Click the link below to view the total amount due or to dispute your case.

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Sincerely,

Stanley Ruberg
U.S. Agent
Bureau of Entertainment Executive Rights

Case No.:




1/5/2008 11:46:03 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Jan 5 2008 12:00AM
SUBJECT:US Election Stupidity


Dear Iowa,

I am Helga Mohammed el-Salami, Liquid Generation's partially uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual and I would like to congratulate you on a primary well delivered. If the rest of the country follows your lead, we will be looking forward to another dynasty of poster-boy idiots which is exactly what our country needs.

Since it seems that all the folks who truly know how to run the country (and thereby the world) are too busy driving cabs and giving haircuts, it falls upon the portly, non-photogenic manipulators like Karl Rove to get any actual work done. And so they do.

How many times have you heard the old cliché "it's the economy stupid" or "Christian Right"? Great. Print it out and shove it up your outbox. You wouldn't know the first thing about economics if I beat the spinal fluid out of you with a Macro textbook and the term "Christian Right" is such a laughable euphemism that it borders on oxymoronic. Do you honestly think that the administration officials who truly run things give a flying-rat's ass about whether your boyfriends can marry each other or if your sister can abort her embryonic bastard? Karl Rove's father was a homosexual. Cheney's daughter is too. Karl didn't let his personal life interfere with his electorate strategy of dividing his constituents along the lines of how others should live their lives. And all of you continue to fall for it.

Here is a little spoken factoid you should all digest: if every person in the country voted, a Republican would never, ever get elected (John Kenneth Galbraith, 1986). Democracy has the unfortunate side-effect of inflicting the stupidity of the many on the intelligent few. So how do they do it? By pretending to be relevant. Pretending to care. Pretending to be someone sweet and sincere and folksy who goes to Church like you and is someone you want to have a beer with. I'm sorry but what the hell is that all about? Have a beer with your president? Please. You should want your president to be a master manipulator. Someone who terrifies every other foreign leader and can slam-dunk your silly ass in any debate on any subject. A person who will bite your head off should you even mention Church or whatever modern mythology you call morality. Someone whose very gaze can curdle your momma's breast milk. She should have had an abortion anyway. But none of you want that. You want an aw-shucks poster-boy who must pretend to be as big a fool as you are.

It could be worse. You could believe that serving a few terms in a State Senate and then delivering a few good speeches does a good president make. So when you go to the ballot box and punch the name of your wanna-be candidate, I might just be around the corner waiting to punch you in your yellow teeth.

Love,

Helga Mohammed el-Salami




11/30/2007 5:29:19 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Rita Crenshaw
SENT: Nov 26 2007 2:34AM
SUBJECT:In Response to Dr. King Newsletter


Dear Helga,

I read your newsletter about Dr. King and am appalled by your complete insensitivity to the plight of African-Americans. You have absolutely no idea the hardships our people endured over the last several hundred years and yet you pretend to be African-American.

Your a disgrace.

Rita Crenshaw




11/30/2007 5:29:19 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Nov 3 2007 12:00AM
SUBJECT:The Writer Strike Affects Code Writers Too


Greetings Comic Infidels,

I am Helga Mohammed el-Salami, Liquid Generation's uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual.? ?Tis a sad day in America for it has become clear that Capitalism has invaded the turf of my brothers and sisters de plume: the screenwriters.

Whom do you movie studio executives think you are, treating your talent as hired-help? The nerve! You purchase a product (a script) add value (all filming and production work) and resell the finished product for multiples more than the cost of goods sold! What arrogance! What outrageousness! Do you fat-cat executives think you're building a car where you can just buy a bunch of parts and screw them together and sell them for huge profits without paying residuals to the assembly line? Or do you think you're clothing designers where you can buy some fabric for US$0.03 / yard, sew it together, slap a label on it and sell it for US$800 without kicking some back to the sweatshops?

NOOOOO!!!!

These are real people who are churning out the scripts! They're not human-labor throwaways like coal miners or fat women in sewing factories. These people have families to feed and glamorous lifestyles to keep up and lunches at the Ivy to pay for. Besides, if you get fired from the Toyota plant, you can get a job tomorrow with GM. Writers are unemployable in any other productive human endeavor. They aren't just cogs in the capitalist machine! They need royalty pay to keep up their LA style. The Proletariat can unite as long as the writers get their cut!

Speaking of all this writing, I'm a writer too you know! And my C# is such that it's made a great many people who use proper programming structure laugh hysterically upon reading it. I have always believed it to be unfair that all the code I write can be re-used over and over again without paying royalties to me whatever. I wrote the original code that sent this newsletter to all of Liquid Generation's lovely readers. 2.5 million every week. Where's my cut? I wrote the code that adds and calculates all the Who'd You Rather votes. 200 Million votes later, I still haven't gotten my check. I created a spreadsheet that our CEO has shown to 20 different people. I'm off to check my mailbox but I don't think there'll be any money there.

Writers have clearly evolved beyond capitalism's thrifty confines and if you studio executives know what's good for you, you'll usher in the new era of CapitaRoyaltyism. A term, BTW, for which I expect to see some residuals. So if I catch anyone using it without my permission, I'm going to print out the nearest screenplay and shove it so far up your large intestine, your bowels will be moving hilarity for a week.

Love,

Helga Mohammed el-Salami




10/30/2007 1:38:32 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Oct 30 2007 1:38PM
SUBJECT:Howto Guide to School Shootings


With all the Columbine-style school shootings making the headlines, I cannot help but marvel at the stupidity of the children orchestrating these stunts. It's kind of like watching a non-stop rerun of the Road Runner where you want to tell the idiot coyote to not step off the goddamned precipice. At least, not until you teach him how to land. So…without further adieu, I would like to take the future school-shooters of America under my wing.

Are you an outcast? Do you goth-it-up in the hope that you can find some common ground with others who have been picked last in gym class? Did you change your name to Raven or Vampire or something equally evil? You're well on your way! Now all you need is a nice little body count for people to know that the darkness of your soul is for real and not just painted on with Hot Topic eye-shadow.

Please note that I have very refined tastes and will be suggesting supplies in the upper echelon of the pricing spectrum. If you can't afford my shopping list, don't get caught stealing or the kids in Juvee will devour your big, pale ass before you ever get to unleash your bloody sorcery. Scale down to the Wal-Mart equivalent. Besides, stealing is wrong and it hurts the economy.

First, I need to make two points:


  1. Plan to die. This is important as it will exponentially increase your body count since you won't need to begin escape proceedings during your carnival of carnage.

  2. Bring a friend. Two can kill many multiples more than just one. If you're too much of an outcast to have any like-minded friends just go ahead and commit suicide and spare yourself failing death just like you did life.



The Desert Eagle Recess:



I realize that walking from classroom to classroom and methodically gunning people down is very poetic in an 8-bit Wolfenstein sort of way but it's also grossly inefficient. Why not make them come to you? Lock all exits but one and pull the fire alarm. (Or better yet, set a real fire) Then stand outside and gun the panic monkeys down as they tear out of the building. Improvements upon this can include cutting the phone lines to delay emergency response or even having an accomplice crash into the responding fire truck. Every minute they delay = another body you can flay.

Shopping List:



Extra Credit: If your school assembles together in response to emergencies, then you have it even better. It'll be like shooting a marching band.

Are your parents strict and won't indulge your murderous fantasies and buy you weapons? No sweat. The below suggestions account for a lack of firepower. They are short on machismo but quite long on effectiveness. Even if your mom is stricter than Michelle Cossey in Pennsylvania, you can still serve up death to your popular classmates.

Radio-Kool-Aid Treatment:



Work at a hospital. Under the guise of "community service" your mission shall be to acquire radioactive iodine. Also called radioiodine or iodine-131. This hilarious isotope is used for treatment of hyperthyroidism and can be readily dissolved in water. Unfortunately, it only has a half-life of about a week so you can't get too greedy but throw some of this in the school's kool-aid machine and you can watch your classmates kill off their thyroid gland and become as fat and lazy as you.

Shopping List:



Extra Credit: drink some of this yourself and keep working in the maternity ward of the hospital. Make the next generation pay for your getting picked last in dodgeball.

The Pro-Start Shower:



What do you get when you short circuit a dozen car batteries? A dirty bomb that all the jihadists of Arabia would envy – mostly because it's more voltage than in your average Afghan village. Strong acid burns hurt like hell at first but then feel better only to lull you in to a false sense of hope. If enough surface area is affected, you're on your way to Hades no matter how good you feel in that emergency room.

Shopping List:

x12

The Pick-me-WAY-up:



What's the difference between a cup of coffee and the jell-o shots you've made for the class? About 10,000 milligrams of caffeine that's what. They'll be bitter as hell which is why you should disguise them in grain alcohol but the effect will be the same. Caffeine is lethal at about 8 grams (80 cups of coffee) but you can get all that goodness in just a few ground up pills with no prescription and then make jello shots as if you were popular and going to a party. Induce a heart attack in those who broke your own fat-encrusted heart.

Shopping List:



Arturo Fuente Opus X-termination:



I know you've all watched "Thank you for Smoking" and know that nicotine is also much more potent when absorbed through the skin than through the microvilli of your lungs. (Well, not really but the process of burning kills most of the potency). Anyway, nicotine is miscible with water so stock up on the patch, snuff or some fine cigars and freebase their nicotine content into a potent mixture. Dump this into the school swimming pool. Your lifetime of cigarettes in 1 deadly dip.

Shopping list:



So go my children! Go forth and wreak your hatred on the popular kids and the teachers that love them! Just don't forget to kill yourselves too.

Love,

Helga Mohammed el-Salami
School Shooting Consultant




10/15/2007 10:44:09 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Sep 29 2007 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Gandhi - History's Most Prolific Killer


Dear Lower Caste Members,

I am Helga Mahatma el-Salami, Liquid Generation's uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual and October 2nd will mark the first annual International Day of Non-Violence. This "holiday" was adopted earlier this year by the United Nations to honor the Father of the Indian Nation: Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi. I'm going to celebrate by walking over to my Indian IT consultant and beating the vindaloo out of him with my Brahmin ball-gag.

Why the irony you axe? Because I'm not in the habit of celebrating the birthdays of mass-murderers. Which is more than we can say for the United Nations. Like the blithering idiots that call themselves Indians, they were duped by the genius of a man who, had all his wishes been fulfilled, could have beat out Influenza as the most prolific killer in human history.

During his tenure as India's beloved father, Gandhi expertly cultivated his image as a Hindu mystic spending long hours at his spinning wheel, meditations and fasts. He knew that a country as diverse as India would never stand united as a Hindu State or follow a Hindu fakir. Pretending to agonize over any partitioning arrangement, The Great Soul expertly played Hindu Politicians against Muslim while he controlled the simmer of resentment until it could unleash the maximum carnage. Whereas in prior years, his killing was limited to sending a few dozen followers into the tread of British tanks, Gandhi saw before him the ability to conduct his Opus de Extermination by simply drawing a line on a map.

In the two weeks following partition, about 500,000 people were subject to the largest movement of humanity in recorded history. And the largest tsunami of violence. Not bad for a cartographical novice. But now that the British were gone, the Mohammedans ensnared in Pakistan, and no enemy on the horizon, Gandhi was like Big Brother without Emmanuel Goldstein, George Bush without bin Laden, Wiley E. Coyote without the Road Runner. And deep within this compost pile, in the twilight of his life, The Great Soul would incubate his most ambitious plan yet. A plan that could have set his place as history's great exterminator.

Unlike the leaders of Soviet Russia or the Third Reich, The Great Soul did not rule by decree, nor did he explicitly sanction the monsoon of misery over which he presided. He knew that overt murder on the scale of his ambitions was the domain of times since passed and his was not the age of Great Kahns or Warrior Kings. So what to do? When the Nazi horrors came to light, The Mahatma urged the Jews to commit mass suicide "to arouse the world and the German people to the horrors of the Nazis." When they didn't, he learned that Jews were either harder to kill than Indians or that genocide could not be prosecuted with a press release. And then... while in this dizzying midst of new technologies... he knew the monstrous form his genocide would take: technological retrograde.

When one is Bapu to a child, one can shape their mind and future as easily as clay before the oven. When one is Bapu to 400 million, one must tread more carefully. The Mahatma could not just change direction in pacifism without arousing suspicion. Gandhi was a good student and remembered his Malthus. He knew that his romantic overtures for a simpler life in the villages of India, where peasants would spin their own clothes and the seasons of crops and beasts would determine human diets was fine for a few hundred thousand but really didn't scale up towards the 400 million mark. Jackpot! With any luck, Gandhi could, within a generation, not only add 100 million to his kill-count but also have the pleasure of watching them slowly and excruciatingly starve to death. A time-consuming execution for which no prior genocidaire had the time or budget. His would be a legacy unlike any other's. He would be a one-man extinction-level-event.

But fortunately, before he could realize his dreams, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi was shot by someone who was on to his demonic game. And thus, this latest horseman of the Apocalypse would have his ashes scattered in the rivers of the world. And I hope the River Styx. So celebrate away you blithering idiots. Make like the US Postal Service and take a holiday. I only hope that if you ever peel back the layers of this brown little man and behold the awesome blackness of his soul, I'm there to shove your fat ass down the abyss.

Love & Graphic Violence,


Helga Mahatma el-Salami




10/15/2007 10:44:09 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Oct 13 2007 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Ann Coulter On Jews


Dear Liquid Generation Subscribers,

I am Ann Coulter and I have been invited to write about my statements to Donny Deutsch on Monday night where I stated that the US would be a better place without the Jews and that Jews should be perfected into Christians. I have accepted this invitation so that I can make myself clear before any more newspapers drop my column.

In the Old Testament God is constantly punishing people for not being able to keep up with His law. But even exterminating the lot of them and starting over with the Ark didn't do the trick. It was clear to God that the only way to rid the Jews of their evil ways was to work with them. He had to "perfect" them; to "evolve" them. So he sent Jesus knowing that his torture and murder would absolve the Jews of their crimes.

Those so absolved then evolved into Christians and the Jews remained stuck in their rut for which God had punished them for centuries. Can you now see how the Jews and the rest of humanity that constantly finds itself "collateral damage" during God's punishments could profit from their acceptance of Jesus? If you believe in evolution, ask yourself if gorillas would not be better off if they could evolve into humans? If they could be less hairy, able to shave their beards, able to flip a light switch on Saturday? Of course they would. But they don't know that and if we, as responsible and intelligent overseers of this planet could do something about it, it would be our obligation to convert the gorillas to humans, by force if necessary, so that they could be saved. There's nothing that we can do about the apes, but the Jews can evolve through Christianity and become sentient citizens of the world. Thus, it falls upon us to demand their evolution for the sake of all humanity and that was all that I meant on Donny Douchebag's show.

And so I urge all of you who were offended by my comments, go to the nearest Bible Study and repent for a lifetime of bringing evil to the world by renouncing Jesus. Only then will you unite America for the true battle we need to wage against the tent merchants in Arabia.

Sincerely,

Ann Coulter




9/11/2007 1:00:58 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Alana Walker
SENT: Sep 10 2007 6:39PM
SUBJECT:Talk about LOSERS!


I'm someone who unsubscribed to this crap you call interesting. Why don't you all go out and kill yourselves so you don't take any more oxygen away from those of us who deserve to breathe. You're just a waste of human life. If you want to see a loser, look inwards or into the mirror. Which ever your feeble minds can handle.
I'm going to dissolve in tears! I can't get your newsletter anymore with my current email address! Oh the agony!




9/6/2007 12:05:57 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Laura Morse
SENT: Sep 2 2007 5:06PM
SUBJECT:Pro-dog-fighting Newsletter Lacks Research, Wit.


You know, usually I LOVE your newsletter - very witty writing and while I typically LOVE the way you polk fun at different issues - this time you hit a nerve my dear friend.

Actually you really just sound like an uneducated asshole. Yeah, I get the underlying message (which is quite obvious), that there are LOTS of ways to abuse animals AS WELL as people....but when you say "what a glorious way to live and die!" - you obviously haven't researched your facts. These dogs are horribly TORTURED - drowned, hanged, electrocuted, starved. Anything sound "glorious" in that?!! Or how about the way they TRAIN them to be mean...I'll spare you the details, but research it, it's "fun"! And how about the horrible deaths of the other animals (smaller dogs, kittens, etc) which are torn apart as part of the "training". Hmmmm, must just get better and better for you, huh?!

Come out of that fantasy you've created in your head that they are warriors or gladiators - they're mistreated, just the same as all the other examples you gave.




The world bats us down so only the best can break through.
No whining, complaining or excuses - break through or step aside.




9/5/2007 3:05:57 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: E.T.Z
SENT: Sep 2 2007 2:10AM
SUBJECT:Dogs Should Not be Fought but They Can Be Used As Insults


You piece of shit, Vick is a fucking animal, this is America. Go back to that rock you crawled from under!
God Bless America




9/5/2007 3:05:57 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Sherri Brookshire
SENT: Sep 1 2007 5:15PM
SUBJECT:On the Joys of K9 Companionship


I am no longer amused by you idiots, they should put you up to be used and bred and fought. Only an idiot like you would not know the joys of K9 companionship, and for that I pity you




8/29/2007 3:33:45 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Sep 1 2007 12:00AM
SUBJECT:In Praise of Dog Fighting


Dear Dog Lovers,

I am Helga Mohammed el-Salami, Liquid Generation's uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual and now that Michael Vick and crew have been convicted of dog-fighting and you have stopped crying-out-your eye-sockets listen up: you're all blithering idiots. What you call “best-friend” the brothas call fighters, the blind call servants and the Indo-Chinese call brunch. It's all a matter of perspective and compared to the other abusers, Michael Vick and posse are heroes.

Humans have been using animals for millennia. Dogs were some of the first animals to be domesticated. Put another way: the first to be bred and used solely for human purposes. Sheep were domesticated for their warm wool and tasty flesh. Dogs, less for food as some other beneficial traits like hunting prowess. When will all you bleeding-hearts realize that the entire reason most animals are alive today is their beneficial service to humans? Cows' and pigs' main purpose is to convert inedible grass, shoots and other garden-grown garbage into beautiful slabs of filet mignon and tenderloin. Those that don't qualify might still make pretty good coats, shoes and wallets. Little is wasted and the animals should be grateful for it. During their short but obese lives, they are fed, cared for, and allowed to get frisky. This is more than I can say for some humans whose main purpose is to stitch our soccer balls but I digress.

So let's re-examine dog-fighting. What a glorious way to live and die! These powerful canines are deified by the men who breed and train them. Put yourself in the dogs' position. What would you rather have, a stumbling owner who needs you to lead him safely through an intersection? A responsibility to sniff 10,000 suitcases looking for a dime bag? What of your misery if you knew that you were about to be picked apart by chopsticks? Now imagine leading a glorious life and meeting a glorious end! You could be a professional athlete! A fighter! A GLADIATOR! We who are about to die, woof woof you!

It's time to not only repeal the ridiculous dog-fighting bans but also make them as family-friendly as bullfighting in Spain or Ultimate Fighting in Nevada. Dogs should be bred in climate-controlled laboratories instead of the back yards of Compton. The government should regulate canine boxers just as they do human ones. They should invent fighting styles and offer training to civilian dogs. “Doggie-style” will never mean the same thing again. The best dogs will have SPONSERS! Rex drinks Red Bull with his Purina. Killer likes a shot of Kettle One before his walk. Fang prefers the Burberry leash. According to appma.org, the pet industry will ring up US$40.8 Billion in 2007 and is growing at an average clip of US$2 bn/yr. If dog-fighting were promoted, that number could be 10x. And who can forget about the gambling? As days at the kennel crowd out days at the track, I bet that every state that taxed the winnings could balance their budgets and finally give a breather to all the cigarette companies on whose backs they have been riding all these thankless years.

Love & Muzzle-Tovs,

Helga Mohammed el-Salami




8/23/2007 11:31:29 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Carrie Ferguson-Bellew
SENT: Aug 18 2007 6:24AM
SUBJECT:ACCOUNT attacted to [email address]


HI this is Madeline Bellew's mother.

I have made several attempts to speak with someone at your company in regards to the bogus or fake account that was created with my 13 year old daughter's email.

Another 13 year old girl has been using her email address, password to open up accounts online that have chat rooms and sexually explicit content. She has been using my daughter's email account to email the guys she meets. She has been sending them photos and god knows what else. A lot of these photos, dowloads and videos have probably come from your site.

I don't know the username or password for this account and neither does my daughter. I wanted to make you aware of the situation so that you my monitor the screen name yourself.

I would appreciate if someone there would actually acknowlege the situation. According to your policy this person has disregarded your policies and could be prosecuted. So now you have all the information. What are you guys going to do?

This isn't a prank, it isn't someone yanking your chain. Just ask Ashley the CEO's assisstant Bruce Fried....left a few messages, but no one has called me back.

Thank you for your time,
Carrie Ferguson-Bellew (The real Madeline Bellew's Mother)
If you need further information call [phone number]




8/4/2007 12:00:00 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Aug 4 2007 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Of Un-Tucked Shirts and Cargo Shorts - A Critique of Modern Fashion


Dear Fashion Industry,

I am Helga Mohammed el-Salami, Liquid Generation's uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual and it is with unrestrained passivity that I await the demise of the current fashion generation. Just in case you missed my meaning, if your demise is not forthcoming, I am more than willing to come over there and personally attend to your Hell Holiday by stuffing your fat asses into some skinny jeans and force feeding you IEDs until you blow up all over your shapeless maternity dresses.

Below is a non-exhaustive list of offences that have caused me to retch in public:

Un-tucked shirts. We get it. Yearly obsolescence requires changing things like lapel width or coat-button quantity every year but this trend has been going on far too long. Yeah, I know everyone wants to look like they have shoulders wider than their stomachs but there's only so much starch you can put in the fabric before you look like a gyroscope. Go to the gym you blithering idiots and then maybe you'll be able to actually tuck in your shirt.

Ponchos – The female version of the above. Nothing hides your last hundred cheeseburgers better than this monstrosity. Unfortunately, they'll also hide your bountiful bust which is probably your only fat-redeeming quality. So until the crossing-guard look gets into vogue, file this one to the lower rungs of your debt-ridden closets.

Cargo Pants/Shorts – Everywhere you turn there they are. Khaki, grey, pink, camouflage. All F-U-G-L-Y. The inventor of these textile deformities but ought to be sodomized with radioactive polonium rods until they have as many tumors hanging off of them as their stupid pants.

Skinny Jeans – For every girl I've seen wearing this abomination, 100% would look better in something that they could actually fit into. And now the guys are wearing them too! Come on people. If you make me re-live the 80s, I'm going to rip out the strings from your bass guitar and implant them into your thinning hair follicles. Then you can truly make a killing in that mosh-pit.

Gaucho Pants – More would-be flattery for the calorie. Even though these apparitions can, sometimes, provide a decent fit for even the most J.Lo of booties, why did you designers make them such that they cut off at the least attractive part of the calf? Kankles are so 1920.

Maternity wear – This entire concept has rotten roots. It shouldn't even exist. If you choose to become an incubator so that you can unleash a fresh mix of your retarded DNA on an unsuspecting world you should suffer the fashion consequences. But now, otherwise normal women are using it to hide their beer guts. What's next? Hoop-skirts for fat legs? Burkas?

Ballet Flats – Girls are one big, motor-mouthing, diary-keeping, PMSing cliché. This is why every one of them feels original when they inform me that “they used to dance” as if that somehow excuses their 100lb college weight gain. But now that you helped bring the cliché into the street, I feel like donning my own ballet shoes and doing pirouettes on your eyeballs.

Bubble Skirts – It's a bird! It's a plane! No! It's a skirt AND a diaper! I know all of you fashion designers are pedophiles but I thought you at least drew the line at potty training. If I ever see any of you wearing this multi-hemmed monstrosity, I'm going to beat you until you crap your pants. Luckily, no one will be able to tell.

That's all for now. Even though I reserve the right to grow this list as long as your puke-inducing threads.

Love,

Helga Mohammed el-Salami




7/23/2007 12:54:17 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Jane littlejohn
SENT: Jul 21 2007 8:46PM
SUBJECT:Silver Surfer Coin


I am sending a link in regards to dispute your statement on your LG home page: "The U.S. Mint actually made REAL quarters featuring the Silver Surfer, from the upcoming Fantastic Four movie. It's amazing how sold out our country can get." If the statement was proven to be true, I would have rolled my eyes and moved right along.

Here is the link: http://www.usmint.gov/consumer/index.cfm?action=HotItems

Fan of LG and Marvel,

Janie




7/7/2007 9:00:00 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: GREGGOLFBOY
SENT: Jun 22 2007 11:36PM
SUBJECT:Teabag incident offends subscriber


Dear LG

I just got through browsing your e-newsletter as I do every time I receive it. I was very
shocked by the segment you let in on the boy who got tea bagged at school. This was not at
funny. This kid will have to deal with this issue his whole life. This is not a high school prank,
but a cruel act of bullies trying to be cool.
I have always loved your news letter but this was over the line. I will be stopping
subscription.
Not laughing anymore

G Gall




7/6/2007 7:43:17 PM

7/3/2007 1:34:20 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: kathy marrone
SENT: Jul 1 2007 1:00PM
SUBJECT:Jesus Lovers Can't Have Poor GrAmMeR (and spelling)


IN REGARD TO LESLEY'S LETTER AND OUR
LORD JESUS CHRIST:

Your and idiot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and i guess i'm too boring cause this is the last
LG i'll everget. you moron!!!!

kat




6/30/2007 12:00:00 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Jun 30 2007 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Take your iGear and Shove it up your iAss


Hallow Herds of Nerds,

I am Helga Mohammed el-Salami, Liquid Generation's uncircumcised, pre-operative technological transsexual and I bet that you've been waiting in line all day for the newly-released Apple iPhone.

I frequently ask myself how it is possible that this company of obvious technological retrograde can continue to offer up blockbusters instead of c-listers? And the answer, dear reader, is because you are a blithering idiot. You must have far too much revolving credit to spend on technological fashion statements.

Do any of you care that the iPhone is a closed device without the ability to install applications on it? That it doesn't have an official SDK which pretty much guarantees that no application will ever be developed for it besides those Apple does themselves. Do you give a flying flock that it lacks a WiFi plan? Do you even realize that you'll never be able to open an Office document on its elephantine screen? MMS? Nope. Instant messaging? Yeah right. Do these things really matter to you? Probably not. So laying my foundations on such principles and organizing my power in such forms, as to me shall go the honor of suggesting to Apple how to screw your next.

1.) Ensure that version 1 of the iPhone is wholly incompatible with any future version's software.
2.) Ensure that version 2 is actually a dumbed-down product with slower bus speeds like the 2005 entry level G5. Oh, and charge the same for it.
3.) Invent a new wireless protocol and force iPhone owners to use it.
4.) Make sure no iPhone can call any other phone type.
5.) Expand #4 to eventually disallow communications with non-Apple computer owners.
6.) Ensure that memory management has holes big enough to fit and Apple IIGS
7.) Don't upgrade memory management until version 2.0, 6 months later.
8.) Ensure that your PC forces a full sync instead of differential EVERY time you plug the iPhone in without asking you.
9.) Dedicate 90% of CPU clocks to neat little effect like scrolling and flyout menus. If phone is active, drop the call.
10.) And finally, I hope Apple makes their on-screen keyboard smaller to accommodate its logo and NOT accommodate your fat, disgusting fingers.

But seriously, when (or if) you get one, I want you to do me a favor. Cradle the iPhone in your left hand with the Apple logo facing you, bring your right hand up to the phone with the palm facing up, and carefully bring in all fingers but the middle. The show your mother so she can smack the genius bar out of you. In fact, while you're at it, you can take Apple Computer's entire cooler-than-thou product line and shove it so far up your iAss, you'll be wiping iTunes for a month.

Love,

Helga




6/2/2007 12:00:00 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Jun 2 2007 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Greens can Suck my Tranny


Hallow Noble Savages,

I am Helga Mohammed el-Salami, Liquid Generation's gas-guzzling (and emitting) uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual and I am pissed as poo about the greening of America. Now that the celebrities are on the Global Warming kick along with their robotic spokesmodel, all you neophyte environmentalists have replaced your light bulbs, bought Priuses and started turning down your air conditioning. Congratulations. I hope you dislocate your shoulder patting yourselves on the back. Judging by the continued success of Inconvenient Truth, panic sells better than sex.

So after you've gotten bark-burn from hugging all those trees, go home, take a shower, shave your armpits, and listen up: you're all blithering idiots. I can't wait until the day I don't have to listen to your preaching any more and whining about my gas-guzzling fleet. Green this, green that. Unless you're talking about green beer, you can all kiss by big…black…Hummer.

When was the last time you heard any whining about CFCs? DDT? The Ozone hole? Indeed, you will be hard pressed to hear any of the panic mongering from the last century. I know all the pot-smoking really harms the short-term memory but let's have a refresher.

In 1906, Upton Sinclair waxed tragic about the state of the meatpacking business in the US. So after I cried for Jurgis Rudkus, I went out and fed my sorrow a delicious cheeseburger that likely contained 1x10-5 parts feces rodentia. And you know what? It tasted absolutely the same as the last time when it might have contained 1x10-3. Figure that if you eat a burger 3 times a week for 20 years, you will, at some point, dine on of 1x10-12345 parts Jurgis' finger (although now it'll more likely be Juan's). Yet, despite all the rats and cannibalism and oppression of young immigrants, you'll still be bitching about your blood sugar at an average 77.85 years of age.

In 1962, Rachel Carson launched a thorough and successful assault on pesticides commonly used in agriculture with her comedy masterpiece: Silent Spring. After nearly 45 years, DDT is no longer used. Every organism on the planet has what was once considered a lethal quantity of it in its cells and the human ones are still alive to bitch about the worms in their raspberries.

My favorite: 1968, Paul Ehrlich prophesized in The Population Bomb that by 2050, there'd be so many of us that we'll all be living in a 2000 story skyscraper that covered every inch of the earth. Construction challenges facing such a structure would limit socializing to those several floors away. We have some time before 2050 but let's not pour concrete in our swimming pools quite yet.

And finally, in 2005, the esteemed Jared Diamond, author of one of the most insightful and profound books of the previous decade: Guns Germs and Steel, tried to break the wave of his success on Collapse, a book about the failure of societies due to a laundry-list of (mostly environmental) issues. It's too soon to render a verdict on the bearded Professor since he wisely chose topics which cannot be gauged within a human lifetime but the book itself was a real steaming pile of environmental compost. I can't resist quoting Fred L. Smith Jr. of the Competitive Enterprise Institute: “[a] jumble of jigsaw puzzle pieces laid out on the table – no structure, no serious organization.” Indeed, I was so pissed after reading this book that I wanted to rip out all 592 pages and use every single one to give the author paper cuts between his toes. Then set him out barefoot on the New Guinea lowlands about which he can't seem to shut the flock up. But this isn't a book review and I digress because I'm getting all worked up again so I'm going to end this paragraph prematurely: *SPURT*

Now then, I bet you couldn't identify a single one of these panic prophets if I held an ozone hole over your head. You can identify Gore because he was once the Secretary of Vice Presidency or something like that. What's the point of my incessant mockery? That we will survive. We survived before and will again. And if we don't, if the polar ice caps melt and the oceanic currents stop, and if the ocean washes inland a further 500 miles then at least we'll prove Paul Ehrlich decisively wrong by dying en masse! And then we'll prove my real-estate agent decisively right by increasing Chicago property value. Then we'll have a surviving world with a much higher average IQ without LA or the Middle East to drag it down. Even though the fish that take up residence in the former will be pretty while those in the latter will likely make their females swim behind them.

Print that out and paint it Red # 5.

Love,

Helga




5/15/2007 5:15:51 PM

5/5/2007 7:19:09 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: May 5 2007 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Praise Mexican Allah for the LAPD


Dear Chief of Police, William Bratton,

I am Helga Jesus Mejia Orellana Sanchez Torres, Liquid Generation's undocumented, uncircumcised pre-operative transsexual and I would like to commend your Police Department on their recent public service in keeping the people of Los Angeles safe.

Over the next few weeks, there are going to be investigations and inquiries and all the other lovely spectacles that the public adores. There may even be calls for your resignation. I urge you to ignore them. The calls will be made by white people who can't possibly comprehend our plight. We must deny Whitie his grandstanding. These expeditions cost lots of money. A bill typically paid by the taxpayer. Since we, the undocumented elite, are tax-exempt, we have no right to freely call for any spending. We know this. But we sometimes just like to tango, you know what I'm saying?

First of all, let's examine the subject of the MacArthur Park rally. Its purpose was immigrant rights. This was the excuse anyway. Let's just be straight-up. We hold these truths to be self-evident. That all migrants are superior. That they are endowed by their familia with certain inalienable rights. That It is the right of every one to drag his or her culture kicking and screaming to the new found land where it can be forced upon the populace. At the same time, the host country should be tapped for higher wages and an unlimited tolerance for bitching. We are separate but superior.

And in our superiority, we could see that the police officers were shrewd physicists in appraising the crowd. It was approaching critical mass. You see, we Hispanics, like Uranium 235, are relatively harmless in small quantities. However, as more and more atoms of Uranium join the fiesta, something as simple as a stray neutron can perpetuate a massive fissile chain reaction. Similarly, a stray bandana or spinning rim or Guatemalan can quickly blow the hot sauce right out of your burrito (even if you've already eaten it) and what was just a peaceful gathering becomes a carnival of tribal dances and contorted hand-gestures. Before you know it, a full-scale riot erupts like Fat Man over Nagasaki. Thank you for saving us!

And so in closing, I would like to stress our compliments. It is a great honor to live in such harmony with one's law enforcement. And in so living, we would like to see where France excels and Japan fails: to your graces, we surrender.

Love,

Helga Jesus Mejia Orellana Sanchez Torres




5/5/2007 12:00:00 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Jesus Mejia Orellana Sanchez
SENT: May 5 2007 12:00AM
SUBJECT:LA Police Protest


Dear Chief of Police, William Bratten,
I am Helga Jesus Mejia Orellana Sanchez Torres, Liquid Generation's undocumented, uncircumcised pre-operative transsexual and I would like to commend your Police Department on their recent public service in keeping the people of Los Angeles safe.

Over the next few weeks, there are going to be investigations and inquiries and all the other lovely spectacles that the public adores. There may even be calls for your resignation. I urge you to ignore them. The calls will be made by white people who can't possibly comprehend our plight. We must deny Whitie his grandstanding. These expeditions cost lots of money. A bill typically paid by the taxpayer. Since we, the undocumented elite, are tax-exempt, we have no right to freely call for any spending. We know this. But we sometimes just like to tango, you know what I'm saying?

First of all, let's examine the subject of the MacArthur Park rally. Its purpose was immigrant rights. This was the excuse anyway. Let's just be straight-up. We hold these truths to be self-evident. That all migrants are superior. That they are endowed by their familia with certain inalienable rights. That It is the right of every one to drag his or her culture kicking and screaming to the new found land where it can be forced upon the populace. At the same time, the host country should be tapped for higher wages and an unlimited tolerance for bitching. We are separate but superior.

And in our superiority, we could see that the police officers were shrewd physicists in appraising the crowd. It was approaching critical mass. You see, we Hispanics, like Uranium 235, are relatively harmless in small quantities. However, as more and more atoms of Uranium join the fiesta, something as simple as a stray neutron can perpetuate a massive fissile chain reaction. Similarly, a stray bandana or spinning rim or Guatemalan can quickly blow the hot sauce right out of your burrito (even if you've already eaten it) and what was just a peaceful gathering becomes a carnival of tribal dances and contorted hand-gestures. Before you know it, a full-scale riot erupts like Fat Man over Nagasaki. Thank you for saving us.

And so in closing, I would like to stress our compliments. It is a great honor to live in such harmony with one's law enforcement. And in so living, we would like to see where France excels and Japan fails: to your graces, we surrender.

Love,

Helga Jesus Mejia Orellana Sanchez Torres




4/13/2007 8:21:12 PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Apr 13 2007 6:25PM
SUBJECT:Don Imus Gets Fired, Mainstream Radio Should Be Next


Dear Proctor & Gamble, Staples, American Express, Bigelow Tea, and all you other sponsors who pulled advertising from MSNBC/CBS in your successful bid to get Don Imus fired, I salute you. Not for your misguided attempt to stamp out racism over the American airwaves, but for your contribution to the coffin of mainstream radio. It's not dead yet, but certainly being given its last rights.

First of all, I thought Imus was a blithering idiot. He sat there with an ugly hat and even uglier face and prattle for hours about whatever was pissing him off. Never had I heard him offer a single original, intelligent or creative idea. Shock-jock my ass. I never heard anything on his show that I couldn't hear by going to the nearest suburban shopping mall and eavesdropping on the geriatrics that bus in from their retirement homes. But, for 30 or so years, there he sat, with a big microphone in front of him until calling a mostly black basketball team “nappy-headed hos” crafted his doom. And he wasn't even smart enough to exit with grace. He apologized 10,000 times to 10,000 people. This foppery made a week of news cycles which goes to show how little news there ever actually is. And what's with this business of apologies? Do they really make things better? If I were Donny Imus, I would have gotten everyone together for a big dramatic apology, asked them all to lift their right hand and slowly extend their middle finger. That's what I think of their thin skin. Then I would invite everyone to use said finger to push another station pre-set. Now that would be funny. Imus should have known that once the black race, which strangely allows itself to be represented by the Jackson-Sharpton Moral Juggernaut, smelled blood, all concerned would need to move to the back of the bus.

I wrote earlier of Imus' doom. I apologize. I wrote a stupid thing (I'm still a good person). Anyway, I was being sarcastically ironical. Soon, Imus will re-surface on Sirius or XM and begin preaching his gospel to the morning commuters with no holds barred. Will people pay to hear him talk? Will his show still suck in as much revenue when it's not subsidized by consumer packaged goods giants who keep the interruption-ad-model out of bankruptcy for no apparent reason? I doubt it. Paying money is much different than paying attention. It generates a line item on your pathetic 29% credit card bill. Money makes you choose actively and I doubt that many would actively choose Don Imus. He'd be wise to retire. He had a great run and should now do like James Cameron and find the radio equivalent of filming fishies before the market does it for him. Either way, he's going to be offering up his jewels of curmudgeonly wisdom in the context that it should have always lived within: in between country western songs.

Love,

Helga




4/10/2007 12:00:05 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: MissPriss17216
SENT: Apr 9 2007 2:46PM
SUBJECT:God Newsletter is NOT Funny!


Your email is not funny and it is very wrong to say stuff like that about something you have no clue about. God is real and one day you willl have to answer to Him and you know what He will say to you? I never knew you and guess where you will go. NOT to Heaven. So just keep on being the way you are and see where it gets you.




4/10/2007 12:00:04 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Melissa Wood
SENT: Apr 8 2007 11:11PM
SUBJECT:When Did Helga Change His/Her Name?


when did you change your name or rather add on to it

Always True

Melissa





4/10/2007 12:00:03 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Paul VonSeggen
SENT: Apr 7 2007 5:40PM
SUBJECT:Questioning Helga's Intelligence


You are a complete idiot! You really think that the universe and all that's in it just happened by chance or lucky chemicals getting together? I question your intelligence on the entire subject. Educate yourself before posting your ignorance on the web.




4/10/2007 12:00:02 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Carole & Richard Stephan
SENT: Apr 7 2007 8:15AM
SUBJECT:Breeders Throw Down Gauntlet


And without breeding, where would you be?




4/7/2007 12:00:01 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Apr 7 2007 12:00AM
SUBJECT:The God Gene


Do not breed. Nothing gives less pleasure than childbearing. Pregnancies are damaging to health, spoil the figure, wither the charms, and it's the cloud of uncertainty forever hanging over these events that darkens a husband's mood.

- Marquis de Sade




My name is Helga Mohammed el-Salami and get ready for the most offensive newsletter you've ever ignored.

On Wednesday, April 04, in the year of your lord and savior, 2007, Dr. Francis S. Collins, M.D., Ph.D., WMD, etc., the Director of the National Human Genome Research Institute and author of The Language of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence for Belief belched out his opinion to CNN that religion and science can coexist. [http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/04/03/collins.commentary/] He USED to be an atheist you see, believing in little more than his AP chemistry textbooks until a patient challenged him and he started looking for answers. And answers he found in the name of Jesus H. Christ. Well gee whiz, I have done some soul searching of my own and still cannot reconcile how it is possible that with all of human accomplishment, all the technology and all the superfluous intelligence streaming about everywhere, that people can still be so blindingly stupid as to actually believe in god.

Now some of you may be grumbling under your smelly breath that Dr. Collins is simply a puppet for the religious right, which voted in America's current government and appointed him Herr Direktor. You may be right. But not likely. So the question stands: how religion can coexist with even a slight modicum of intelligence not to mention all the presumed capacity Director Collins must have to have earned all his dot.Ds?

A: It's part of our programming.

You've probably heard or read that euphemism before but I don't mean it figuratively. You are nothing more than an automaton. An inefficient organization of the sun's energy built from a nucleic acid blueprint for the purpose of replicating said blueprint forever. You have no more purpose than simply being the gene-carrier for an average of 77.85 years and somewhere during that time, construct as many more carriers as you can to continue after you're horde of solar energy is repurposed into fertilizer.

Ok, go ahead. Send me a breathtakingly long hate mail now, get it out of your system and come back. I'll wait before writing the next part.

Imagine how different you would be if you accepted this philosophy. Would you still consider life such a beautiful thing? Would you go out preaching the gospel of birth and evils of abortion? I doubt it. Which means, of course, what? That whatever combination of genes you possess that allows for such genetically-destructive choices would never be passed on and the mutation would die with you. Survival of the fittest was never, ever survival of the smartest. Indeed, it benefits a blueprint when the vehicle doesn't second-guess the plan. Since somewhere along the line, we developed a brain, it only makes sense that the god clause would be written in. If it hadn't been, we would have gone extinct in a few generations.

So to all you breeders out there, congratulations, you're the biological equivalent of an elevator. Why don't you take yourself down, way down and ride yourself all the way down to hell.

Love and Holy Ghosts,

Helga Mohammed el-Salami




3/27/2007 9:35:00 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Paige Dalton
SENT: Mar 24 2007 8:45PM
SUBJECT:Shave or Wax? That is the Question.


I love you. I just want to know-do you shave or do you wax?. I need a clean landing strip for what I want to do to you. Can you lose the Britney Spears wig?? I prefer redheads and six-inch stillettos. Im getting hot just thinking about getting freaky with you. Call me!! Your hot action babe Colonel angus. (Say that with a southern accent and youll get my meaning.)




3/27/2007 9:19:00 AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: BEASTYGIRL10
SENT: Mar 24 2007 7:14AM
SUBJECT:One of Many Pathetic Insults


fag