Helga's Mail Room

A Decade (+/- a few) of Depravity

Mar 27 2010 8:11AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Mar 27 2010 8:11AM
SUBJECT:Rules of the Road, Chicago Style

Changing Lanes - Never signal lane changes. Ever. Signaling alerts people where you want to go, which is always in front of them, making them speed up to prevent it. When you want to change lanes do as the bus drivers and make the cut fast and menacing.

Pedestrian Right-of-Way - If pedestrians were given the de-facto right-of-way Chicago traffic would never move. No one follows walk signs. So when a crowd is crossing against the signal gun the engine. In nearly 20 years of driving, NEVER have I had anyone stand their ground. Something about 2 tons of metal hurtling forth at 40+mph evaporates all the right-of-way bravado. All thats left is the reflex flight response. Youre doing them a favor. Its the most exercise theyll get all week.

Turning left off of Michigan Avenue - If you are the first car in line for the green arrow, floor it the instant the arrow appears. Inevitably there will be a half-dozen people who immediately begin to cross and will begin to run when they hear your tires squeal and motor revving. Your goal is to discourage the 5000 people behind them from following suit and forming an unbreakable mass of pedestria leaving you blocking Michigan Ave. If youre not the first in line see below.

Turning left behind a coward - If drivers in front of you are not getting out in the middle of the intersection or are too timid to dash through small gaps in traffic-flow your turn should create a hypotenuse to their two sides of the right angle. This is accomplished by turning left into the oncoming perpendicular lane and then righting yourself by veering right and cutting off the slowpoke from their left. This is actually safer than passing on the right because 1.) they wont be looking to the right if they do decide to turn and 2.) you wont get t-boned if they decide to go straight which happens uncomfortably often.

Blocking Crosswalks - Never leave space between you and the car in front of you. Ever. Pedestrians are like water. Theyll seep through the tiniest space so if youve just dashed through an intersection and are now blocking people make damn sure that your front bumper leaves no room to walk or youre frozen until the next light.

Avoiding a huge left turn queue - Right turn + U turn = left turn. If youre good, youll even be able to do this without getting caught at the red. Unlike LA where U turns are encouraged, Chicago cops hate them for some reason. But as with most offenses, they usually wont say anything unless youre a brazen brownhole right in front of them.

Speeding - Chicago Police are mostly a bunch of party guys so unless you do damage to person or property there is little chance of getting written up. Just be nice to them, admit youre stupid, laugh off the verbal abuse they heap upon you and youll be fine. (The nicer your car the nicer you have to be) A notable exception is Lake Shore Drive. Even fellow cops get tickets from the hard-boiled old-timers patrolling this lovely stretch of scenic road. Like with the other LSD and Speed: Just dont do it.

Undercover Cops - These guys earned the right to wear baggy jeans and sports jerseys and to ignore reckless idiots like you. However, if you cut them off, lay on the horn, mid-finger salute or otherwise behave like an ahh-noose you wont just get pulled-over and delayed but might also catch a thumping for your trouble. So - if the irritating vehicle is or has any combination of: Ford Crown Vic, green license plates beginning with M(unicipal), antennae, search-lights, MADD stickers or large burly men with moustaches the chances of it being "on-the-job" is high. Bite your tongue and give that horn hand a rest.

Feb 16 2008 12:00AM

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

Greetings infidels.

Its Helga Mohammed el-Salmi, Liquid Generations 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 wed 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 Generations 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.


Helga Mohammed el-Salami

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

Jan 26 2008 12:00AM

-----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 Generations 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. Its too bad Australia doesnt 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, its 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 cant round to the nearest hour should just be nuked until there isnt anything left but sand. Im not sure anyone in the Northern Territory would notice.

6. Tuna. Who would have thunk that the worlds southern desert would be the kingdom of the worlds 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. Whats 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 dont care how many coral polyps built the damn thing. Theyre just about as ugly as the polyps in your grandpas colon.

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

10. Outback Steakhouse. Is this a dinner experience or a Monsters Ball? You can have the bloomin onion to put you to sleep with its 3000 calories (sodium thiopental), drink about 50 Fosters 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 wasnt so bad after all. Only Im not a convict. Yet.

11. Westfield. Probably Australias biggest conglomerate after News Corp., everywhere you go theres a Westfield shopping mall waiting to take your suburbanite money. I spend so much in Century City that I feel like Im 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

Jan 5 2008 11:46AM

-----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 Generations 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 "its the economy stupid" or "Christian Right"? Great. Print it out and shove it up your outbox. You wouldnt 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-rats ass about whether your boyfriends can marry each other or if your sister can abort her embryonic bastard? Karl Roves father was a homosexual. Cheneys daughter is too. Karl didnt 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. Im 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 mommas 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.


Helga Mohammed el-Salami

Nov 30 2007 5:29PM

-----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 Generations 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 youre 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 youre 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?


These are real people who are churning out the scripts! Theyre 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 arent 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, Im a writer too you know! And my C# is such that its 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 Generations lovely readers. 2.5 million every week. Wheres my cut? I wrote the code that adds and calculates all the Whod You Rather votes. 200 Million votes later, I still havent gotten my check. I created a spreadsheet that our CEO has shown to 20 different people. Im off to check my mailbox but I dont think therell be any money there.

Writers have clearly evolved beyond capitalisms thrifty confines and if you studio executives know whats good for you, youll 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, Im 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.


Helga Mohammed el-Salami

Oct 15 2007 10:44AM

-----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 didnt 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 Gods 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 dont 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. Theres 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 Douchebags 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.


Ann Coulter

Oct 15 2007 10:44AM

-----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 Generations 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. Im 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 Im 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 Indias 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 historys 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 didnt, 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 didnt 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 others. 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, Im there to shove your fat ass down the abyss.

Love & Graphic Violence,

Helga Mahatma el-Salami

Aug 29 2007 3:33PM

-----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 Generations 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: youre all blithering idiots. What you call "best-friend" the brothas call fighters, the blind call servants and the Indo-Chinese call brunch. Its 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 dont 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 lets 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!

Its 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

Aug 4 2007 12:00AM

-----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 Generations 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 theres 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 youll 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, theyll 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 Ive 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, Im 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 shouldnt 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. Whats 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 - Its a bird! Its a plane! No! Its 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, Im going to beat you until you crap your pants. Luckily, no one will be able to tell.

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


Helga Mohammed el-Salami

Jun 30 2007 12:00AM

-----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 Generations uncircumcised, pre-operative technological transsexual and I bet that youve 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 doesnt 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 youll 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 versions 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.) Dont 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 youre at it, you can take Apple Computers entire cooler-than-thou product line and shove it so far up your iAss, youll be wiping iTunes for a month.



Jun 2 2007 12:00AM

-----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 Generations 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 youve gotten bark-burn from hugging all those trees, go home, take a shower, shave your armpits, and listen up: youre all blithering idiots. I cant wait until the day I dont have to listen to your preaching any more and whining about my gas-guzzling fleet. Green this, green that. Unless youre 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 lets 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 itll more likely be Juans). Yet, despite all the rats and cannibalism and oppression of young immigrants, youll 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, thered be so many of us that well 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 lets 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. Its 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 cant 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 cant seem to shut the flock up. But this isnt a book review and I digress because Im getting all worked up again so Im going to end this paragraph prematurely: *SPURT*

Now then, I bet you couldnt 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. Whats the point of my incessant mockery? That we will survive. We survived before and will again. And if we dont, if the polar ice caps melt and the oceanic currents stop, and if the ocean washes inland a further 500 miles then at least well prove Paul Ehrlich decisively wrong by dying en masse! And then well prove my real-estate agent decisively right by increasing Chicago property value. Then well 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.



May 5 2007 12:00AM

-----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 Generations 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 cant 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 Im saying?

First of all, lets examine the subject of the MacArthur Park rally. Its purpose was immigrant rights. This was the excuse anyway. Lets 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 youve 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 ones law enforcement. And in so living, we would like to see where France excels and Japan fails: to your graces, we surrender.


Helga Jesus Mejia Orellana Sanchez Torres

May 5 2007 7:19PM

-----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 Generations 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 cant 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 Im saying?

First of all, lets examine the subject of the MacArthur Park rally. Its purpose was immigrant rights. This was the excuse anyway. Lets 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 youve 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 ones law enforcement. And in so living, we would like to see where France excels and Japan fails: to your graces, we surrender.


Helga Jesus Mejia Orellana Sanchez Torres

Apr 7 2007 12:00AM

-----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 its the cloud of uncertainty forever hanging over these events that darkens a husbands mood.

- Marquis de Sade

My name is Helga Mohammed el-Salami and get ready for the most offensive newsletter youve 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 Americas 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: Its part of our programming.

Youve probably heard or read that euphemism before but I dont mean it figuratively. You are nothing more than an automaton. An inefficient organization of the suns 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 youre 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. Ill 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 doesnt 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 hadnt been, we would have gone extinct in a few generations.

So to all you breeders out there, congratulations, youre the biological equivalent of an elevator. Why dont you take yourself down, way down and ride yourself all the way down to hell.

Love and Holy Ghosts,

Helga Mohammed el-Salami

Mar 24 2007 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Mar 24 2007 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Newsletter of Excuses

On your knees! Its Helga Mohammed el-Salami,

Liquid Generations uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual and sometimes, I think my 486 mini-tower has a higher IQ than the lot of you. Indeed, talking to most people, I find myself swimming in a torrent of cliché; so worn and tired that Id feel cleaner if the torrent were excrement.

Listen to the bulk of conversations and youll realize that the majority of peoples word-play is spent on conjuring up excuses for being stupid. Why they wont get one thing or remember another. But they cant even come up with their own excuses and instead re-package the same meaninglessness at nauseam.

Below, I have isolated a few exhibits for your reading pleasure and translated them to normal-speak:

Im a visual person - I dont like to think. Unless complicated subject matter is presented in 3 dimensional charts and pastel colors Im not going to understand anything.

I dont remember names - remembering will take attention and repetition; effort which youre not really worth.

Im always late -Option A - Im so disorganized that I have no conception of time. B - I overbook my schedule so that I dont have to spend a single second in the vacuous company of my own thoughts. C - Im passive aggressive so even though I cant stick it to you any other way, at least Ill rob you of some time.

Im a good skier - I grew up rich and dont keep company that didnt lest someone actually expects me to have anything productive to contribute.

I used to work retail - Ive come so far. Accept my pity and give me a discount.

Im a spiritual person - I dont really want to admit to being religious because I havent been to church/temple/mosque/Mount Olympus in N number of years but I enjoy the ease of making up and changing my beliefs as I needed.

Im a musician - Im work retail/live with my parents so dont expect me to ever buy a round of drinks.

What I wanted to say was: [speech] - I would never actually say any of the things I now spew forth but I can make up in narration what I lack in quick-wits.

I dont eat X [but all sorts of Y]: I decided to draw my imaginary line in the sand at X {pigs, shellfish, cows under a certain age}. I feel that this limited contribution is helping save little Xs despite the fact most of them are bred specifically for human consumption and their sole purpose on this planet is to convert grass into delicious slabs of medium-rare filets. That or I actually think that my god will send me to hell for partaking of X portion of the menu not realizing that god was only so picky back before they could irradiate and refrigerate.

I could go on and on and on and on and on...But I wont. I feel that just by regurgitating the aforementioned, I have irreparably damaged my IQ. And now Im a visual person.

Helga Mohammed el-Salami

Feb 10 2007 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SENT: Feb 10 2007 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Anna Nicole Smith Obituary

Dear Grief-Stricken Media Junkies,

I am Helga Mohammed el-Salami, Liquid Generations eulogizing uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual. Today, the world is a bit lighter, after losing our beloved extra juicy pinup: Anna Nicole Smith.

Born Vickie Lynn Hogan on November 28th, in the year of our Lord and Savior 1967, young Vickie told everyone that she would be the next Marilyn Monroe. Her first step to achieve her goal was to marry Billy Wayne Smith, a 16-year-old cook at Jims Krispy Fried Chicken in her home city of Mexia, Texas, where she worked as a waitress.

Despite a successful reproductive cycle, this marriage, the first of many, was not to be. The 19-year-old had irreconcilable differences with her 18-year-old husband. But she soldiered on. She resigned her position at the chicken shack and moved to Houston, where she embarked on a career at Red Lobster. Still unable to provide for herself and her one-year-old, she took on the added responsibilities of performing at an exotic nightclub. Somewhere during this tenure, Vicki chose to make up in silicone what she lacked in mammary tissue. A choice that would forevermore color her identity, even though her later choice to make up in body fat what she lacked in substance proved less career-oriented.

In 1992, she was chosen to appear on the cover of the March edition of Playboy and her career experienced a paradigm shift. Gone were the days of boiled crustaceans and fried chicken. She was a new woman and needed a new name. And so Vicki Lynn Hogan became, from that day forth, Anna Nicole Smith.

As her public cheered on, Anna Nicole appeared in 7 films, 4 television shows and countless special editions of the magazine that lent her the first microphone. She ate it up. And had desert. Fortunately, the majority of her growth did not take place until after successfully squeezing into the tightest Little Black Dress in history: the will of her third husband, J. Howard Marshall. But as the pounds rolled into layers and her triceps rivaled those of yours truly, Anna fought back in the only way America knows how: pharmaceutically. Slurred speech and lazy eyes are but a small price to pay for femininity. Besides, since Marshalls will was being hotly contested, Anna knew that she may have had to wiggle into another one.

But then came reprieve. Her nemesis and competitor for her husbands post-mortem affections, E. Pierce Marshall, succumbed to an infection around the same time Anna Nicole succumbed to pregnancy. Nearly 20 years after her last womb workout, Anna would be barren no more. She did everything right. Took her vitamin C, didnt eat raw fish or soft cheeses but unfortunately, massively upped her irony. As her daughter filled Anna Nicoles heart like the joy of that first cocktail on a hot summer day, a more potent cocktail of Zoloft, Lexapro and methadone filled the circulatory system of her 20-year-old son. Ashes to ashes. Drugs to drugs.

The official cause of Anna Nicoles death has not yet been released, but 6 out of 31 dead playmates have causes of death clearly due to drug overdoses, with 6 more via causes unknown. You dont need to work for SPSS to figure out Anna Nicoles killer likely was a cocktail stiffer than her sons.

And so we close the chapter on a determined and upwardly mobile woman, who served her way up the fast-food ladder, broke through the silicone ceiling, stretched her assets to their limits and lent her womanhood to a battle of the wills. She will be remembered as an inspiration to the middle-America from whence she came, demonstrating to every aspiring starlet that they already have the tools to craft success. All it takes is good exposure. Farewell, Anna Nicole Smith. You were a giant.

Helga Mohammed el-Salami

Jan 13 2007 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Jan 13 2007 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Happy Martin Luther King Day!

Wassup brothas and sistas!

This is Helga Mohammed el-Salami Washington and I would like to wish you a happy Martin Luther King Day!

In honor of my own African heritage, which I trace back to roughly 48,000 B.C., I would like to highlight the 4 most important issues affecting us today.

History Month Hijacking. Seemingly "important" events are always taking place in February and trying to steal its thunder. February has marked two celebrated historical surrenders and will now inevitably mark a third. In 1848, Mexico surrendered to the US and in 1943, Germany surrendered to the allies. In 2006, Coretta Scott King surrendered to cancer, but unlike the axis (of immigration and evil respectively), had the courtesy to do so on January 31st.

Jobs. There have never been enough high-paying jobs in this blessed Union of ours for us true Afro-Americans. Being true to my roots, my circadian rhythm is based on West Africa Central Time, GMT+1, not this whole GMT-8 jazz like in LA. With the shortage of executive and knowledge-worker professions respecting our patriotic clocks, is it any wonder that, in the western time zones, we disproportionately drift toward night-owl occupations?

Racial Profiling. Just because one is African-American, people assume that one can rap, groove and dunk a basketball when, in fact, one can rarely do any of these things. These societal expectations force us to study extra hard in concerts and on the basketball court at the expense of the mainstream curriculum.

African American Vernacular English. Also known as Ebony Phonics or Ebonics, this beautiful and remarkable language is slowly being perverted by Standard American English. As I spy on conversations, I hear Ebonics no-nos such as realization of two-syllable morphemes such as "working" (workin) and failure to properly metathesise words like ask (aks). You kids dont be respectin yo roots.

If Dr. King were still alive, Im sure these issues would be atop his list and we would have marched on Compton long ago to protest them.

Peace out yall,


May 3 2004 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: May 3 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Auschwitz Diet

Dearest Fat-asses,

This is Helga The Help, LiquidGenerations bold and beautiful pre-operative transsexual and have I got a new diet for you.

To hell with Atkins, South Beach, The Zone and all the other fad nonsense that you all try to follow. I came up with something special and I guarantee that you will lose every ounce of fat on your bloated body.

See, the other day, I was watching a documentary on the Holocaust and noticed a pattern: all the people were incredibly skinny. Not a whale in sight. And what great self-esteem they had! At every turn theyd be running around all naked and stuff. Then I recalled The Diary of Anne Frank. Not a single page was devoted to dieting or body insecurity. Things that todays typical teenager would obsess about for at least a few chapters. And then inspiration struck!

Ladies and Gentlemen: without further lard, I would like to present to you the latest in dietary lifestyles: The Auschwitz Diet.

Heres how it works:

You give me all your money, and move into the concentration camp that I will set up in the LiquidGeneration Offices. I will hire guards to beat the devil out of you all day long, make you shovel snow, run around on 13 minutes of sleep and grind up paper into your bread so you still get plenty of fiber but dont actually digest anything. Whats that you say? Dont think anyone would want this job? Well screw you Mr. & Mrs. Smarty Pants…Ive already hired Mel Gibsons dad to be the administrator and Lara Flynn Boyle to be the spokesmodel.

And if you call now, I promise to even throw in mosquito repellent and let you have the top bunk. If youre not satisfied with your new skin-and-bones look you can always mouth off to one of our guards. Just dont be surprised if he busts a cap in your ass.

Dec 2 2006 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Dec 2 2006 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Helga Responds to Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's Open Letter

An open letter from
Helga Mohammed el-Salami,
and uncircumcised pre-operative transsexual,

Liquid Generation

O almighty Double-you
I pray that you bestow
Your blessed grace and mercy
On Persians down below.

to the Persian Empire:

Our nations have been drifting
Apart in a sea of hates.
You think its Divine Providence
And we tectonic plates.

You blame us for our flexing
In the Middle East
The muscles of our power
A truly Sexy Beast.

But wherefore shall we flex them?
Our targets ever fewer.
We cant take every holy book
And flush it down the sewer.

We know that it is tempting
For Mohammeds franchisees
To look past their true oppression
And blame the Zionese.

You say that you want justice
For the people of Iraq.
We would like to tell you
Where to stuff your sock.

The war of nineteen-eighties.
The Holocausts a myth.
And why the sudden outbursts
When youve always plead the fifth?

We may have had elections
And passed on the baton.
We still crusade to castrate
A nuke-yoo-lar Iran

So thank you for your wisdom
Your divine inspired prose.
But have you not considered
That were who Allah chose?

We know Mohammed teaches.
We know that Jesus Saves.
We relish in the freedom
To speak of them as knaves.

So well just keep on going.
Well work and pay our taxes.
And joke about the letter
From our favorite evil axis.

Love & Peace be upon you,


Sep 30 2006 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Sep 30 2006 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Recall Pope Benedict

Dear Militant Liquid Generation Devotees,

I am Helga Mohammed el-Salami, Liquid Generations most pious uncircumcised pre-operative transsexual, and I wanted to spend my brief time with you this month to declare jihad on Pope Benedict XVI and help you brainstorm all the various beheading videos in which we could cast him or the roadmaps for Byzantium we could carve into his Pope Mobile. But, alas, we are followers of the religion of peace and this type of foppery would not be proper. Instead, let us do like the Californians and hold a recall pope-lection.

I was never a fan of Joseph Ratzinger even back when he was Cardinal Grand Inquisitor. And it had nothing to do with his name being 1 part Rat, 1 part Zinger. Ill take that over Schwarzenegger any day. But I have assembled a 6-count indictment of our Islam-basher.

Hes a deserter. When called upon to serve their country, the youth of America stands up. What did The Pope do when called upon by Germany in WWII? Went AWOL. Not a great model of dependability.

Hes old. A good 20 years past menopause. The Vatican should learn from Hewlett-Packard. The board had enough sense to can two menopausal bosses in two months and they were a hell of a lot cuter. Old people should never be popes.

Hes dumb. If hes as "intellectual" as theyre saying why did it take him like 30 years to graduate from the College of Cardinals??? How did he even attend since Im sure the GI bill was revoked after he deserted and stuff. (see item 1)

Hes fat. I think the old boys could have at least chosen a better poster-boy for health and fitness given the whole feeding-tube debacle from the last pope. Fat people should never be popes especially if they cant even fit in the Pope-mobile.

He has a comb-over. When ones part starts at ones ear, the biggest yarmulke in the universe cannot the impression of hair make. Bald people should never be popes.

Easy assassination target. See above item. All a would-be assassin would need is magnifying glass and POOF! The 12 pounds of Aqua-Net goes up in flames! Fire hazards should never be popes.

So there you have them. I think these make for a rock-solid case for re-Pope-lection. Then, all we have to do is find a replacement and I have a suggestion here, too. I think that affirmative action has done just about all can in the US and should be exported. Im sure that there were plenty of good colored cardinals to choose from but I was leaning towards a very special Archbishop: Don Magic Juan.

With love and Total Recalls,


Nov 4 2006 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Nov 4 2006 12:00AM
SUBJECT:West Hollywood Hates Black Transsexuals

Brothas and Sistas in Black,

I am Helga LaShaunda el-Salami, Liquid Generations most Afro-centric uncircumcised pre-operative transsexual and the best costume award should have been mine this Halloween. I should have won.

The fact that I didnt simply proves that my home village of West Hollywood hates the black transsexual. My costume cost like 100 dollars, Pamela Anderson was in my thoughts. And I wont even tell you the canyons I was jumping across later that night. Whoever it was that won the award was the beneficiary of a "spreading-the-wealth type thing." This Halloween, West Hollywood lost its credibility.

I decided that I would use this holiday to come out of the closet. I attended the West Hollywood Halloween party dressed as myself but with a closet door open behind me as a reminder of how dangerously close it was and how cumbersome it always has been. How much more profound is that than any of the crap that youve probably seen? But my prize has been denied in favor of other, less worthy opponents.

Its nothing new.

You see, since converting to black several years ago, I have seen all species of prejudice cast my way. This despite my being a model citizen of black transsexuality. People pay no mind to the difficulty of simultaneously straddling the divisions of race and gender as I do. They think my lofty position at Liquid Generation is the product of Affirmative Action. That I will rob them on the street and not tip my actor at the restaurant. And now, this final insult has all but enslaved my spirit.

But I am not one to give up. Indeed, I have already invested in all the appropriate attire, bought a chrome gas cap for my SUV while I save up for the donks, and watched both seasons of Ali G as a case study in behavior. I will hide my blackness no more. I will tolerate no dissent. No opposition. I have a dream...that one day, I will be able to walk down Santa Monica Blvd proud of my gender-racial canyon and if anyone should so much as cast an evil glance my way, to shove 400 years of oppression up their large intestine.

Love and Stereotypes,

Helga LaShaunda el-Salami

Sep 2 2006 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Sep 2 2006 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Newsletter 9/2/2006 - LA Restaurants Suck

Dear Fellow Service Mongers,

I am Helga The Help, LiquidGenerations most spoiled uncircumcised pre-operative transsexual and you should never dine in the city of Los Angeles.

Perhaps I have been spoiled by the city of big shoulders (and even bigger waistlines). But I have become so used to receiving-5 star service at even the corner dump that I forgot what most of the country has to go through when they go out to eat. The west coast and southern states have a special place in my diary of abominations but so far, Los Angeles seems to combine the worst of both into one oozing juggernaut of incompetence.

Overall, the entire city seems to be moving through oil. I have seen New York Grannys unload their scooters faster than most people unload their grocery carts. I have been stuck in traffic behind wanna-be starlets too busy thumbing their pink sidekicks to see the light change. But worst of all, I have had no shortage of meals where the staffs ineptitude overshadowed even their "beauty."

A list of indictments would be lengthy and exhausting so Im just going to touch on the most vile:

Medium Rare means exactly that. How can a crispy looking thing even make it out past the cook, the dresser, and the waiter? Complete incompetence thats how.

If I order a special vodka in my martini, use it! And make sure to wash out the shaker before you pour. Yes I can taste the difference and I can even tell if theres one drop of gin or Grey Goose that seeped through the ice cubes. If youre going to be lazy, either wait until Im on number three or dont charge $16 for it.

Take my money. Dont ruin an otherwise acceptable meal by vanishing somewhere between my first bite and 20 minutes after my last. Rehearse your lines on your own time.

BRING THE ITEMIZED RECIEPT!!! No, I dont trust you, you tattooed mathematical drop-out. Ill do my own arithmetic thank you very much. And this was ever more important last year when you could deduct your sales tax.

I hate to sound like my grandmother but in Chicago, this sort of business would be met with dining room riots and fistfights. You might get your ass kicked just by ordering a steak cooked medium well (i.e.: ruined) to say nothing of delivering it as such to an innocent diner.

So I am forced to find solace in the things LA does offer. However, no one has yet invited me to a big Hollywood premiere or asked me to pose on the red carpet. I guess those are privileges reserved for the bigshots like LiquidGenerations esteemed CEO, Tyrese Abdul Mohammed, who just this week got invited to see Crank (which he loved) and hang with Efren Ramirez (whom he hated). Just kidding Efren. We all love you and vote for you and hope you come back to do Pedro for us again.

So I guess that at least I can use the ass-load of money that Im going to save on tips to fund the elevation my social standing. Meanwhile, if you work in the service industry in LA, I want you to print this out on 30lb paper and shove it up your southernmost sphincter.

Love & Cabbage,

Food Nazi/Code Warrior

Jul 29 2006 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Jul 29 2006 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Newsletter 7/29/06 - Israel loves Hezbollah

My SUV is a gas guzzling slut that can out whore your gas guzzling SUV slut.

-- Helga

Dear Hezbollah gorillas and Israeli chimpanzees,

I am Helga Moo-hammed el-Salami, LiquidGenerations best endowed uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual and you embody hatred, violence and intolerance. Your recent warfare has dispatched thousands of people to the hospital and several hundred to the spirit realm. Indeed, you offer a stiff refreshment to a world bent on the illusion of peace and universal tolerance.

I salute you.

Long ago, the world was a simpler place. If one did not fancy anothers nose hairs, one would simply shoot them dead. Now, the laws are such that this behavior is punished and not rewarded. And so, it is fitting that we can look to the birthplace of civilization for a return to our roots.

You see, the Middle East has a secret that both sides try to enshroud: they need each other. For the Arab world, Israel is Emmanuel Goldstein (no pun intended), a symbol of hate and a means of control, and Arabs to Israel is the 900 lb. gorilla with the explosive temper (also, no pun intended): an ever-present threat and also...a means of control. What would they do without each other? Oh the horror! Arab children, who now study the Koran and to hate Israel would have only the words of the prophet to guide them into virgin lands. Hardly as decisive an exit as dirty bombing your favorite civilians. And Israel would probably end up like a smaller version of the United States, instead of churning out trained warriors and 135 engineers/10,000 employees, it would be grooming middle managers who do nothing but watch the clock as they refine their management techniques.

So now that we have uncovered the secret let me now follow in Platos footsteps and give you the Allegory of the Boil.

Sometimes, when I wear a particularly uncomfortable pair of shoes, I develop an impressive growth filled with all kids of bodily humors. Those evenings, as Im getting my drink on, I like to select the finest blade from my collection of straight razors and apply just enough pressure to produce maximum carnage and hence garner the most sympathy. But in doing so, I am careful not to tear off the protective epidermis and thus prevent the boil from filling again. I can keep this up for a maximum of a few days whereas the Arabs and Israelis have been doing it for over half a century.

Now thats impressive.

With love and warfare,

Gas Guzzler/SUV-Driving Earth Destroyer

Jul 1 2006 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Jul 1 2006 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Deformed People are Horny Too

My hairline might be receding, but not my use of the term: "Web 2.0."

-- Helga

Dear Chromosomally Challenged Infidels,

I am Helga the Help, LiquidGenerations only XXX-Y uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual and I have been braving quite a dry spell if you catch my drift. I thought that now that I am all Hollywood, the A-List would be easy pickings for a man/woman of my socio-physical charms. But alas, this is not the case. As the days march into weeks, I am beginning to think that a dramatic lowering of standards is the only way to solve my problem. If countries can devalue their currency so foreigners can buy their worthless bunk, Helga can devalue his/her hit list when hitting the Sunset Strip.

So without further A-Dew, here is my list of untapped markets:

Down Syndromeites - These are cheap dates because they get ass-wasted off of a single martini. Luckily, the extra chromosome coded for a hollow heart, not leg. You can use what little imagination you have to see the benefits of the enlarged tongue.

Cerebral Palsied - These masochists love to relive memories of their first failed breaths in the moments of passion. I just have to get an asphyxiation device that feels like an umbilical cord.

Conjoined Twins - If this is not the congenital jackpot then Im not sure what is. A shared circulatory system means that not only can I save money by getting two drunk for the price of one, but also have 4 hands to keep me "focused" on the task at hand.

Amputees - You probably think I am going to make a Boxing Helena joke but I take this very seriously. When one has no limbs, one can roll in place. I never thought that the euphemism "screwing" was accurate, until now.

Cleft Palateitians - When in its complete, bilateral version, what you fully-formed pigs call deformity I call divinity de oral.

Spina Bifidites - Folic acid be damned. These cravers of B vitamins can range from a small spinal cord disjunction to a full gap in the vertebrae. I wonder if the term "Goatspina" will be as catchy.

Usher Syndromites - No, not the people that break out dancing to "Yeah!" at the drop of an As hat. This refers to children born without functional input devices for their eyes and ears. If you think about it, Helen Keller was the ideal woman. But since she occurs once in 10,000 births, you had better get in line behind me.

Fetal Alcohol Syndromeites - We already share a full-time BAC of .35 but alcohol has been in their blood a lot longer than mine. The only problem is that they can drink my ass into the gutter. Thus, its economically preferable to hunt for these sweethearts in the country where their amniotic fluid was Wild Turkey, not Cristal. More compatible with my pocketbook.

Diphalliacs - At ratio of 1 in 5 million live births, these gems are worth their weight in wasabi. Double the Pleasure/Double the Fun/No one should stick to/Having just one.

Fat People - If all else fails, there are always those thickly-padded souls who go out with their thin friends and always get left alone at the table as their friends hook up. What some may call leftovers, I call ripe, low-hanging, mushy fruit.

And now my fellow undesirables...on to the hunt!!!


Turd Muffin/Code Warrior

Jun 3 2006 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Jun 3 2006 12:00AM
SUBJECT:War is Awsome

You link to Helgas Mailbag on the homepage or I walk.

-- Helga The Help

Dear Pacifist Liberal Scumbags,

I am Helga The Help, LiquidGenerations most violent uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual and listen…you hear that? Thats the sound of me sharpening my Rambo knife, loading my machine gun and squeezing into my combat thong because Im going to WAR!!!

Out of the spectrum of human activity, there is no greater occupation than that of destruction. Both of societys output and, in some cases, other societies. What better way to channel the productive energy of the population than toward the obliteration of goods and peoples? All the better if theyre the ENEMY.

So while you are out there protesting in your greasy hair and Birkenstocks, I have been contemplating Americas next target. Only not the Axis of Pansies that our President would have us devour. I have come up with a slightly more refined list:

Canada - If out of sight is out of mind then these northern prima donnas are surfing our brainwaves. Sure, they gave us Sarah McLachlan and Molsen Beer but technically, Canada isnt even a country. Its a giant piece of permafrost between us and Alaska. If global warming melts Canada, then I say "Gentlemen, start your engines!"

Ethiopia - We have the Great Gatsby. They have a Great Famine. We win. Besides, if theyre going to pretend theyre starving they should at least try to hide their big fat bellies.

France - Some say that the greatest attack on America was 9/11. But true cultural connoisseurs know that this distinction goes to the attack we suffered in the renaming of the most prominent staple of the middle class diet. The gauntlet was thrown down and we should answer with Super Sized weapons.

Singapore - Is it a country? Is it a city? Quite honestly, I dont give a rats ass. I know that they have some pretty clean streets and the most ass-kicking cell phones any of us North Americans have ever seen. I want 3G and I dont care it they know Kung Fu.

India - As a lowly technology worker, the more I hear about all the CEOs with their BPOs the more disgusted I get. I want to organize all of my code-monkey brethren and go trash the country as badly as my last vindaloo dinner did my digestive tract. I want to, but judging by the state of the country, Im not sure that trashing is a message theyd get. At least conquering India wont be that hard. We wont even need the military. Last time around, they were conquered by a tea company. All we should need to do is send in Starbucks.

So there you have them. I call them the Axis of Asses and youre either with me or you have an Oedipus complex. Stay tuned for the next edition where I plan to declare war on the CAPS LOCK key.

Helga The Help
Employee Exterminator/Ruler of Web Stats

Apr 29 2006 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Apr 29 2006 12:00AM
SUBJECT:If Mexicans Can Protest, So can Transsexuals

Transsexuals can be late with their newsletters, but never with their menses.

-- Helga

Dear Governments of the World,

I am Helga Antonia Perez Rodriguez Loca, LiquidGenerations undocumented, uncircumcised pre-operative transsexual and you can vacuum your own house, pick your own strawberries and bus your own table because on Monday, Im calling in pissed.

My uncut sisters and I have been underappreciated for too long! Get ready to pay holy hell. Im organizing the million-transsexual-march. Since I do not want my movement to be taken lightly, I will learn from the best. People who have been screaming oppression for generations and doing something about it: the Palestinians and the Mexicans.

At first perusal, it may appear that both groups have been complete and utter failures in advancing their respective agendas. Both lost land to their enemies after suffering humiliating defeats in war. The Palestinians lost the holy land while Mexicans lost their land wholly.

It would be tempting to regard both as mere exoskeletons of once-glorious cultures that must look deep in the rearview mirror for the faintest glimmer of pride but nothing can be further from the truth.

Both factions have found covert ways to wage war upon their oppressors. Both the Palestinians and the Mexicans have mastered the power of explosives. The Palestinians blow up Israeli bodies with dirty bombs while Mexicans blow through American intestines with spicy burritos. There is no reason a transsexual cant blow through some intestines too. Start with the small and move down to the large.

Colonization begins with a single settlement. Then the invading culture can name things in their native tongue and follow their own customs and pay no respect to their kindly hosts. The Palestinians settled Gaza and the Mexicans settled Los Angeles. Thus, Israel has a bunch of barbed wire that no one can cross while LA has street names no one can pronounce. The transsexual revolution would combine the best of both worlds. Id barricade with studded leathers and give my streets names that require the homo-lithp.

Behavior is learned through repetition and both the Mexicans and Palestinians are glowing specimens of OCD. Five times a day, the Palestinians get on their knees and pray to Allah. Mexicans get on their knees and scream "Dios Mio!" And its gotta be more than five times a day because, Im just not sure how else its possible to have 12 children by the age of 30. Regardless, the transsexual movement should pay attention. Toughen up those knees while facing our own private Mecca: San Francisco

Welcome friends…to the transsexual jihadisimo!

Helga Antonia Perez Rodriguez Loca
Tranny Tricker/Sandal Wearer

Apr 1 2006 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Apr 1 2006 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Women Age Poorly

Trust Nobody. Hire Nobody. Program Nothing. That is the way of the Master.

-- Helga The Help

Dear Withered Damsels,

I am Helga Salami el-Mohammed, LiquidGenerations wisest uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual, and I would like to present the most perishable good on the planet: female beauty.

With the recent rash of those who, at the half-century marker, insist upon stealing the limelight and then reflecting it from their pasty white skin, I feel that it is high time to make my case.

There is a period in every girls life, typically in her mid-20s, when everything just falls into place. She is past the awkward tweens where her limbs may have grown asynchronously. Past the teenage acne and the baby fat. And right before her first wrinkle and gray hair where she looks as good as she ever will. Whats my point you ask? That THIS is the interval during which women should be seen and heard.

I am sick of waking up to Katie Couric (luckily shes about to be popped). Sick of watching Judi Dench telling Bond what to do. And sicker still of falling asleep to re-runs of Marilyn Chambers second coming. But now that Sharon Stones instincts have betrayed her, I can keep silent no more.

For the love of your male species and in the name of whatever gods you believe in! Wash off the caked-on makeup…put on your clothes…and make way for the new generation! Take Sharon Stone for example. I had seen Basic Instinct a dozen times before buying the Directors Cut on DVD. It came with a plastic ice pick and I began suspecting that ice picks were significant to the movie, although I still cant quite put my finger in it. Im not sure what the weapon of choice will be in round 2 but I can only pray to Allah and his son Jesus that it wont be crows feet.

It has been said that a celebritys genius lies not in tenure but in the timing of retirement. Women dont have to be geniuses. Unlike Ms. Stone, they dont even need a stroke of genius. All they need is a mirror.

Jewish Scientologist/Hasidic Muslim

Mar 4 2006 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Mar 4 2006 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Alzheimers, Dementia, and other funnies.

Relocation is the last refuge of scoundrels.

-- Helga

Dear Mental Retards,

I am Helga The Help, Liquidgenerations most compassionate transsexual, and I would like to be the first to tell you that I love the lot of you.

See, I used to be retarded. My particular brand was extremely rare. I didnt get it from eating too much tuna or anything; it runs in my family.

Not long ago, my grandma was diagnosed with dementia a condition much like Alzheimers but without the fancy name. Those afflicted confuse everyday things in the most interesting way. It is not uncommon for her to mistake me for her brother or even her long-dead father. I, being the compassionate transsexual that I am, go along with the delusion. Its actually kind of fun. Like many old people, she told me the same dumbass stories from her childhood 10,000 times so I re-tell them to her pretending to be a participating party. She actually gets really excited and it seems to brighten her mood so I never understand why people are telling me that its insensitive.

One of the most interesting roles Ive had the chances to perfect is when she mistakes me for her husband who died in WWII. Since she still remembers the war as clearly as I remember Z. Cavariccis, I tell her these long, elaborate tales about how I was captured by the Nazis and forced to perform unspeakable acts of sodomy and bestiality. I keep trying to stretch the fabric of plausibility but think I damaged my credibility when I told her that I fathered a child with a high-ranking German Shepherd.

But dementia has it annoyances too. For example, get ready to answer the same EXACT question several times in a single conversation. Sometimes it gets asked (or "axed" for the ebonics speakers) again before you are even done replying. In this case, its fun to alter the answer in mid-sentence and watch the genuine change in reaction.

But regardless of what amusement one derives from the below-the-fold-intellectuals, its important to remember that their parents rolled the genetic dice just like yours did. Except for the fact that they crapped out.

Love and Chromosomes, Helga.

Sensitivity Maven/Bleeding-heart Conservative

Feb 4 2006 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Feb 4 2006 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Technology Workers Suck Ass

My moving expenses are more expensive than your moving expenses.

-- Helga The Help

Dear Self-Professed Technologists,

I am Helga The Help, LiquidGenerations highest-ranking transsexual and you are all a bunch of wannabes.

Looking at the lot of you, I see a paradigm shift on your unshaven horizon. One not too dissimilar from the one affecting medical doctors in the beginning of the 19th century. Wanna see what I see? Fine. Print out the following word and staple it to your eyelids:


Technology work is perhaps the most important work in the world. It enables and drives nearly all of human commerce, transportation, healthcare, innovation and most importantly: entertainment. It is the DNA of progress and it is replicating at astounding speed. And what safeguards are in place to prevent a bunch of wanna-be losers from taking an A+ course in high school and applying for a job as the network administrator of the most esteemed entertainment brand in all the Internets? Tragically, NOTHING!

Let me take you back to the days of your mommas mommas momma. There used to be nothing wrong with robbing a few graveyards to learn the ropes (or tendons) and hanging a "Doctor is IN" sign in your small town office outside the saloon. Try doing that now and youll be carted off to prison faster than you can click your elephant slippers together and say: "Theres no place like Middle Earth." Allah-Akbar! Because otherwise wed have an OBGYN in the back of every convenience store.

Technology is no different. There will come a time when the gears of the world will depend so strongly on the Internet that even one faulty node would be as dangerous as a cancer cell to an organism. Looking at some of your resumes, the faults might look a lot like you.

I should post some of the "resumes" for my Monster listing on the newly redesigned Suck My Blog. Except Im not that vindictive. And the Suck My Blog isnt that depressive. Instead, I will wallow in my misery and count the days until you are uprooted from the technology universe like the Shamen before you.

P.S. Wanna prove me wrong? We are seriously expanding our staff and are in need of talent in the areas of network engineering and programming. If you are a superstar in any of these disciplines, live in the Los Angeles area, and want to make a difference in the entertainment landscape, go ahead and forward your resume to the following email address: nerdjobsnl@liquidgeneration.com. You risk nothing but my insane rage.

Tranny Trainer/But Plugger

Jan 7 2006 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Jan 7 2006 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Muslim New Years Resolutions

My friends are more drunk than your friends.

-- Helga

A salaam alaikum!

I am Helga Salami el-Mohammed, and instead of giving you the usual linear-plot, Dragnet-style newsletter, I am going to expand on a topic covered nearly a year ago: my conversion to the religion of love and peace.

Since this is my first New Year as an Islam, I have decided to let my resolutions reflect my undisputed status as the most pious transsexual in recorded history. Already, I have much to show for my piety. In just 10 months, I have not only firmed up my waistline with a rigorous regiment of bent-over-prayer but also tuned my internal compass to always jump in the direction of Mecca. (Not sure how the whole sex-change will affect this skill after I get my compass needle sliced off but well cross that bridge when we come upon it.) Anyway, here are my New Years resolutions in no particular order, other than the one in which they appear:

  • Lose Weight.

You must be thinking: Helga cant count since he/she referred to resolution(S) and listed only one. Or: "How unoriginal," but you should think not these things and put your attention-deficit on hold and listen up.

Im not talking 10 pounds like most of you, Im talking Lindsay Lohan; Im talking Kate Moss; Im talking Ethiopia - but without the distended belly. What in the Great Satan do you think caused the collapse of the hotel outside of the Mosque in Mecca [1/6/06] if not the inability to support too many overfed worshippers? A month of Ramadan doesnt seem to have any effect when the other 11 consist of gorging on fat oil profits.

What do you think caused Ariel Sharon, the greatest Muslim now living, to have the consecutive queen and king of all brain-farts? A man whose legacy should be filled with generous land-gifts to the Palestinian people will instead be filled like a colostomy bag.

And what about the late King Fahd? Years of childhood, adolescent, adult and finally, geriatric obesity pretty much added up to the whole lifetime. I could be wrong about this since its hard to check guys out in their Princely burkas but the facts seem to be on my side. The King had type II diabetes and weak knees, hence the worlds smallest escalator (1 step) was installed in one of his palaces to assure easy mobility between the toilet and master bath.

So follow my lead fellow pilgrims! Together we can declare jihad on obesity and win! I have personally decided not to wait for heaven to reap my rewards. I deflower a virgin for every pound I lose! I cant risk that the suicide bombers will get all the best cuts of meat!

Meat Packer/Infidel

Dec 10 2005 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Dec 10 2005 12:00AM
SUBJECT:The Worst Week Ever

My soul swooned slowly as I heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the trannies, my dear friends.

-- Helga The Help

Dear Blogosquare,

I am Helga The Help, LiquidGenerations asexual, uncircumcised pre-operative transsexual and this has been a pretty rough week. Lets recap some of the highlights:

Monday & Tuesday

I know that all the people in the south are fat and lazy because of how hot it is but all it takes is a couple days like this to wish obesity upon myself. The entire country suffered the icy grip of Canadian air. Ugly bastards - I wish theyd keep it. Permafrost is their thing. We dont need any here. The mercury wasnt even falling. It was frozen.


A man in Miami decides to commit suicide by Air Marshal and makes bogus bomb threats while threatening everyone with a backpack. Quite honestly, I am relieved to see that 4 years after its inception, this whole Air Marshal program actually has teeth. Law enforcement should be more like the old-school Schwarzenegger movies: corpses early and often. Marshals should have quotas. If no one is acting bi-polar they can always shoot people with more than 2 pieces of carry-on luggage.


Ah yes, December 8th, in the year of your lord 2005, I looked out the window and beheld a pale sky and his plane that flew into Midway was death, and Hell followed with him. (Revelation 6:7-8) The fine city of Chicago was hit with a storm that made Hurricane Katrina look like a toilet flush.

The casualties cannot easily be counted but include thousands of man-hours stuck in traffic, my new Gucci shoes, and a six-year-old who bit it when a Southwest Jet skidded off the landing strip and into his familys car pool. However, it could have been much worse. I could have been wearing my Testonis.

Is it mere coincidence that if you subtract 1 from the first number of 12-8 and add it to the second and reverse the two you get 9-11? No more than Revelation 6:7-8 actually being 12-8 since 6 and 7 add up to 12.


I awoke after a holiday party with a heavy head and lighter wallet. I had thoroughly street-salted ANOTHER pair of shoes and lost ANOTHER scarf. This year seems to be ending with the same tsunami of alcohol with which it started but far fewer donations to the charity of liver.

That morning the icy streets were flowing as quickly as airport security lines and my taxi driver was carrying on an insurgency over his Bluetooth earpiece. His scarf was very similar to the one I had lost but his voice was causing little earthquakes in my cranium with a magnitude of 7.6 so I decided to leave the disputed piece of cashmere alone.

With a start like this, Im afraid to see what the weeks end has in store. This may very well be my own version of "goodbye COLD world!"

Love & Frigidity,

Pole Dancer/Code Warrior

Jan 7 2006 6:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Jan 7 2006 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Newsletter 1/7/2006 Helga's First Muslim New Year's Resolution

My friends are more drunk than your friends.

-- Helga

A salaam alaikum!

I am Helga Salami el-Mohammed, and instead of giving you the usual linear-plot, Dragnet-style newsletter, I am going to expand on a topic covered nearly a year ago: my conversion to the religion of love and peace.

Since this is my first New Year as an Islam, I have decided to let my resolutions reflect my undisputed status as the most pious transsexual in recorded history. Already, I have much to show for my piety. In just 10 months, I have not only firmed up my waistline with a rigorous regiment of bent-over-prayer but also tuned my internal compass to always jump in the direction of Mecca. (Not sure how the whole sex-change will affect this skill after I get my compass needle sliced off but well cross that bridge when we come upon it.) Anyway, here are my New Years resolutions in no particular order, other than the one in which they appear:

Lose Weight.

You must be thinking: Helga cant count since he/she referred to resolution(S) and listed only one. Or: "How unoriginal," but you should think not these things and put your attention-deficit on hold and listen up.

Im not talking 10 pounds like most of you, Im talking Lindsay Lohan; Im talking Kate Moss; Im talking Ethiopia - but without the distended belly. What in the Great Satan do you think caused the collapse of the hotel outside of the Mosque in Mecca [1/6/06] if not the inability to support too many overfed worshippers? A month of Ramadan doesnt seem to have any effect when the other 11 consist of gorging on fat oil profits.

What do you think caused Ariel Sharon, the greatest Muslim now living, to have the consecutive queen and king of all brain-farts? A man whose legacy should be filled with generous land-gifts to the Palestinian people will instead be filled like a colostomy bag.

And what about the late King Fahd? Years of childhood, adolescent, adult and finally, geriatric obesity pretty much added up to the whole lifetime. I could be wrong about this since its hard to check guys out in their Princely burkas but the facts seem to be on my side. The King had type II diabetes and weak knees, hence the worlds smallest escalator (1 step) was installed in one of his palaces to assure easy mobility between the toilet and master bath.

So follow my lead fellow pilgrims! Together we can declare jihad on obesity and win! I have personally decided not to wait for heaven to reap my rewards. I deflower a virgin for every pound I lose! I cant risk that the suicide bombers will get all the best cuts of meat!

Meat Packer/Infidel

Oct 15 2005 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Oct 15 2005 12:00AM

I once programmed a computer to spank my ass and call me charlie -- and I'll do it again!

-- Helga

Dear Technical Hipsters,

I am Helga The Help and I want to take all your latest, greatest, cooler-than-thou wannabe techie toys and shove them so far up the output side of your large intestine, your bowels will be moving transistors for a week.

The truth is that your pathetic existence is satisfied by your gadgetry while your product awareness is pegged to the latest nine-figure marketing campaign. Heres what I wish youd realize: by the time youve heard of it, its no longer cool. Beat that with your moms tailpipe.

Here are 4 examples:

  1. iPods: I had an MP3 player in 1998. It weighed 10 pounds, had kick-ass battery life and the coolest interface software youve never seen. Yes it was my Pentium II Laptop with a copy of Winamp, what of it? At least when Steve Jobs released his Phillippe Starck-inspired turdlette I wasnt shocked to learn that one can listen to digitized audio on the go. Especially since I had already owned a Nomad for years.

  2. Podcasts: Could someone please explain to me how this is any different from your OSs sound recorder with an MP3 conversion thrown in? But now that its been nicely packaged for you, we have an army of schmucks recording their meaningless thoughts into MP3 format and strewing them all about the wasteland that hath become of the Internet. Why is it that you all think we give a rats ass about you or what you have to say?

  3. Blogs: There has never been a shortage of people who had much more to say than others had the desire to hear but this is perhaps the greatest enabler. Back in 1994, I had to at least learn HTML to share my web-based boredom with the world. And now? A chimpanzee could click over to Blogger.com and publish a better looking web page than anyone had 10 years ago. How do I know? I see Slippy do it every day.

  4. Macromedia Flash: Having your menu fly in from the side or having your page fade in with a grain filter may have been cool the first 10 thousand times Ive seen it but now its just stealing precious time from whatever stupid thing Ive come to your site to read. HINT: if you can drag and drop it in, theres a good chance that another million people thought it was cool too and did the same. The web has become the same outlet for designers trying to flex their programming muscles that Power Point has always been for the sales geeks. In the end, both look like poseurs but at least sales guys get paid.

  5. I could go on at nauseam but an exhaustive analysis is out of the scope of a weekly newsletter to say nothing of your Homo Erectus attention span. Whatever. Why dont you put on your EMO glasses, go to your local WiFi caf, crack open your 17" PowerBook that you got for Kwanzaa from mommy and daddy and start forwarding me those funny videos that Ive seen 4 years ago. I promise to keep track of them so when the time comes to declare a techie Jihad, Ill know whom to get first.

    AIDS Dodger/CSS Supremacist

Nov 14 2005 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Nov 12 2005 12:00AM
SUBJECT:French Rioters are Pansies

Instead of Frosted Flakes or Cheerios, I eat little Asian babies for breakfast.

-- Helga

Bon Jour Mi Punk-Ass French Snobs,

I am Hëlgâ-Piérrè, LiquidGenerations most riotous uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual and you are in desperate need of Rioting 101.

Quite honestly, I am shocked that France has not yet surrendered but Im sure a treaty is in the works. Just make sure you negotiate 2/3 occupation so as not to be bettered by any previous occupying forces. Anyway, that aside, I must now express my disappointment. As a mob, its your duty to riot with purpose and style. Look at the US. What was your whole student movement of 68 compared to our Martin Luther King riots? And what is now compared to Rodney King? Fact is that youre all a bunch of pansies and your rioting is commensurate with it.

Figures are still rolling in but so far, things dont look so good. Your body count is pathetically low and your total damage assessment is fairly pedestrian, which is symbolic since you seem to be burning cars instead of the higher-ticket items like homes and buildings. And what about your motivation? A couple of hoodlums hide in a power grid and, OMG! get electrocuted! Who woulda thunk? You should be thanking them for doing it now instead of AFTER shooting someones grandma a few years down the road. Oh wait. France doesnt electrocute people. Thats Florida. Same first letter, same election issues, same economic output, you can see how one can get confused.

But if you have to riot, you may as well do it right. Here are some pointers from a TV riot veteran:

  • Dont burn McDonalds. I know youre upset because of your supposed "disadvantage" and unemployment, but torching the only place where you can get a job along with your Royale with Brie is not too smart.

  • Dont burn cars. Steal them and use them to commit better, more expensive crimes. In 1992, the average Rodney King rioter inflicted $100,000 in property damage. How much can you Frogs personally take credit for? I dont know what your quota is but youd better start torching some more 74 Citroens.

  • Dont demand integration. In 1968, the West Side of Chicago celebrated Dr. Kings passage by dispatching as many Irish and Jews as they could to heaven. Or at least to Kenilworth and Highland Park respectively.

  • Remember that Hijabs arent just a symbol of religious expression, theyre combat gear. No one will know if youre a pious Islamic woman on the way to Mosque or a Riot Ninja ready to unleash some serious civil disobedience. Oh wait, head scarves are illegal in France now...strike that one. One should only riot in legal attire.

  • Dont be selfish. Its pretty self-centered to riot for a better life, more ethnic recognition, better wages or working conditions...me me me. Look to the Battle in Seattle (the WTO protests of 99) where all the moral vegetarians got together to support the plight of the Guatemalan Bean-picker and punish the Prada and Gucci stores in the same campaign. Now that is selfless!

Im going to keep an eye on how things turn out but I must say that at this point, when its my turn to organize the riots of the Local 911 Union of Overworked Transsexual Technology Workers, Im not likely to hire my manpower in Paris.

Hëlgâ-Piérrè Mohammed
Black Panther/Communist

Sep 30 2005 9:55AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Sep 30 2005 9:55AM
SUBJECT:Pope Benedict

On Tuesday, April 19th, 2005 anno dommini, the Leadership of the Catholic Church elected a new Pope after a brief but contentious campaign. Even though Im a little bitter that they did not consider my application, I am completely appalled at the choice of Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, The Vaticans Grand Inquisitor, to the high office.

I have come up with 7 objections:

1.) Hes a deserter. When called upon to serve their country, the youth of America stands up. What did The Pope do when called upon by his? Went AWOL. Not a great model of dependability.

2.) He has a comb-over. When ones part starts at ones ear, the biggest yarmulke in the universe cannot the impression of hair make. Bald people should never be popes.

3.) Easy assassination target. See above item. All a would-be assassin would need is magnifying glass and POOF! The 12 pounds of Aqua-Net goes up in flames! Fire hazards should never be popes.

4.) Hes old. A good 20 years past menopause. The Vatican should learn from Hewlett-Packard. They had enough sense to can its menopausal boss and she was a hell of a lot cuter. Old people should never be popes.

5.) Hes dumb. If hes as "intellectual" as theyre saying why did it take him like 30 years to graduate from the College of Cardinals??? Hmmmm? How did he even attend since Im sure the GI bill was revoked after he deserted and stuff. (see item 1)

6.) Hes fat. I think they old boys could have at least chosen a better poster-boy for health and fitness given the whole feeding-tube debacle from the last pope. Fat people should never be popes as they probably cant even fit in the popemobile.

7.) Hes white and male. I think that affirmative action has done just about all can in the US and should be exported. There were plenty of good colored cardinals to choose from but I was leaning towards a very special Archbishop: Don Magic Juan.

Sep 17 2005 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Sep 17 2005 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Newsletter: On Hurrican Katrina and Bowel Movements

Avoiding commitment is only one way of saying, "You arent as sexy as my mom"

-- Helga

Dear Generous Readers,

I am Helga The Help, LiquidGenerations only uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual, and I would like to make a plea for your generous donations by telling you a sad story about last nights dinner.

I went to Chicagos fine (and only) Cajun restaurant and had an unusually large meal which I chased down with an unusually strong Hurricane. It was probably a category 5 until the moment it made landfall in my bowels. After the meal, I could barely move as I felt a storm brewing in my stomach. Sadly, my machismo got the better of me and ignoring all the warning signs, I went to bed as if nothing happened. Alas, my peaceful slumber would be short-lived.

I awoke as the levee of my sphincter broke and with a mighty leap, was upon my throne. But suffering from the worst Hurricane hangover you can imagine, I neglected to recognize the dangers of such volume without the necessary insurance of multiple flushing. Before I knew what was happening, I was ankle-deep in raw sewage. What to do? It was the dead of night, everything was closed and there was still a Hurricane coursing through my brain.

Normally, I am a law-abiding citizen but such desperate times call for law-bending measures. So, I went and looted my local hardware store. I grabbed the biggest, most industrial-strength plunger I could find and since I was already there, and in the market for a big screen TV and some lawn furniture, I figured there would be no harm in picking those up too. So after my midnight shopping spree I went home to assess the damage and call in the cavalry to help clean it up. Someone had to rescue what was left of my beautiful antique bathroom rugs.

But no one came!

I waited for hours and no one came to help. By this time the Hurricane was gone, having long ago been "processed," but the damage and unfriendly odor remained. This was an emergency on a residential level. Volunteers started spilling in from every corner of the block (who were at least in sniffing distance) but they were forbidden entry by my door which was locked. Oh the outrage! However, being the muscular transsexual that I am, I quickly kicked the door down and stood ready to greet my white knights in shining ArmorAll when the unthinkable happened. Mistaking my temporarily browned complexion for a permanent one, the eager volunteers simply pointed me to the United Center (home of the has-been Chicago Bulls) and went home.


SO PLEASE! Send money now and if youve ever eaten Cajun food, then I demand your resignation.

Love and Hurricanes,

Helga The Help
Business As Usual/Porn Collector

Aug 23 2005 4:06PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Aug 20 2005 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Newsletter - 8/20/2005 - Abortion

The BTK Serial Killer actually seems like a pretty cool guy.

-- Helga

Dear Pro-Chooser,

I am Helga The Help, LiquidGenerations most maternal transsexual, and I would like to ask you a hypothetical question:

Would you place the precious and innocent years of your childhood in the hands of a hormonally-blinded, moody and irrational person who has just made the decision to transform herself into an incubator for the next nine months?

How sad that no one asked you, because thats exactly what happened.

I have always wondered how the entire pro-choice movement started out so twisted from the very beginning. Why was everyone so obsessed with the womans right to choose when they should have been obsessing about the right of the parents? The woman is but part of the equation. The part that cant parallel park. Anyway, what kind of society would call it equality if the partnership that created life is not required to end it?

This whole nonsense of "my body, my temple" has gone far enough. Of all the problems humanity has faced over millennia, fertility has never been one of them. Evolution has long ago selected for humans to cooperate in the rearing of offspring thus enabling them to be born weaker but smarter. Wonderful. If you think that women alone should decide the fate of their newly implanted embryo then the large brain has been wasted on you. Its contrary to everything evolution stands for but more importantly, its contrary to me.

The rules should work like a binary AND operator. The desire to procreate must be unanimous else well continue to fill the world with deranged misfits who have barely the IQ to clean our streets. If either partner returns a NO then just like our binary statement both are NO and the pregnancy should be terminated, forcibly if necessary. Dont make that stupid face. The world is no stranger to forced abortion and even sterilization. Look at Indira Gandhi, Chairman Mao and The Northern Mariana Island of Saipan. I only wish Canada was on the list, too, but whatever.

Heres the bottom line: youre smart enough to understand that insemination is not a license to live. What you need to get through your titanium skull is that to maximize the offsprings chances in this world, parental consent must be unanimous. We have enough population growth from those who want children that we dont need reinforcement from those who dont. And if you disagree, its probably because your father would rather have popped your fugly ass instead of hanging 18 years of child support around his neck.


Tranny Tricker/Summer Hour Whore

Jul 23 2005 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Jul 23 2005 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Newsletter 7/23/05 - L8 and African Charity

Stripping for a bunch of gay dudes does not make you a gay, but it does make you a homo.

-- Helga The Help

Dear Bleeding-Heart Philanthropists,

I am Helga The Help, LiquidGenerations promiscuous transsexual, and Live Aids, or L8 or G8 or whatever the hell these bastards are calling themselves now can take their tear-jerker message and shove it straight up their large intestines.

Tyrese Abdul Mohammed, LiquidGenerations pious CEO went to Live 8 a few weeks ago and gave us the download. Apparently, Will Smith, the Fresh Prince turned action superstar turned salvation-concert emcee, kept counting to 3 and announcing with self-satisfying profundity that a child has died in Africa. Yeah??? Did no one bother to tell him and the rest of the drugged-up saviors that in those three seconds another 10 children were born? Whos going to feed them all? Misery, vice, disease and famine are simply checks on human population, which, if uncontrolled, would spiral far beyond the planets capacity to feed everyone.

Africa currently has one of the largest population growth rates in the world: close to 3% for the entire continent of over 600 million. This means that despite all of Bonos and the Fresh Princes ballyhooing, and all the tearful statistics about little kiddies dying, Africas population will double in roughly 23 years. What do you suppose is going to happen since it doesnt even come close to feeding the population it has now? Thats right: FAMINE. MISERY. DEATH. Tell your friends that FMD is the new WMD.

So what to do? Educate Congo about birth control? Export Planned Parenthood to Côte-dIvoire? Good luck. Even if thats what we wanted, we might need to teach more than 50% of the population to read first during which time another 100 million people will be born into disease and starvation. The governments would be more successful forcibly sterilizing people like Indira Gandhi did and the Chinese probably still do. But good luck on that one too. We westerners dont like to help people who see things differently and saying goodbye to American/European handouts would be every African leaders swan song. I still cant help but think that we invaded Vietnam simply because we think of dogs as our best friends, and they, as dinner.

But what do you know or care about Africa? You just want to go to a concert, listen to some music, drink some beer and say that you did your part since the rock stars are graciously contributing a portion of your ticket and booze receipts to the "cause." Handouts. Goodie goodie. They work like magic if the goal is to breed a culture of dependence. You see, the only people were helping by sending money are ourselves! As China and India get richer, cost of labor increases. Whos going to make our clothes and do our tech support? Luckily in 23 years, well have another 1.2 billion people literally dying for a few pennies a day. A whole new working class adjusted for inflation! Reading is optional when stitching fabric for 18 hours straight.

So congratulations! The last time you sent money to an African charity or went to one of those idiot concerts you have helped the next generation of spoiled brats buy cheap soccer balls. I hope you sprain your arm patting yourself on the back.


Helga The Help
Tranny Bate/Baby Eater

Jun 25 2005 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Jun 25 2005 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Death of the Entertainment Industry

Taking blame for any Internet problems, server malfunctions or FTP errors is not in my job description.

-- Helga, LiquidGenerations only CTO

Dear Celebrities, Entertainment Executives and Honorary Wannabes,

I am Helga The Help, LiquidGenerations single white transsexual, and may you rest in peace.

The age of Hollywood and the Recording Industry, as we know it, has passed. You were all good business people and I respect that but youre just collateral damage. Give up. Go home. You may be an elephant but youre fighting an army of African Fire Ants.

The Information Age, like the various ages before it, has ushered in a new climate. Except instead of ice, were now awash in hotspots. I can walk into a coffee shop, order my 8-shot, non-fat goat milk latte, connect to my file-sharing program, and start watching a movie that someone else paid for. Or that may have released yesterday...or is being released next month. You get the point.

Ever wonder how the entertainment industry finances their astronomical production budgets, $20M actor/singer paychecks, and the 1000 $/plate catering fees? They dont. You do. That $9 for a movie ticket, $16 for a CD, $24 for a DVD (I live in Chicago aiiight??? Thats what things cost) adds up damn fast when spread over a population of millions. The RIAA and the Studios are frequently likened to a cartel that artificially inflates prices and prevents competition. Go to any restaurant and ask your waiter what its like getting an independent movie/CD released. Kind of like an ass-mugging thats what.

People in power want only one thing: to stay in power. Or did you really think that government officials retire to "spend more time with family?" No one is going to give up riches so that can you can weasel out of popping 16 bucks for a CD. According to the RIAA, piracy losses total 4.2 billion US dollars per year, enough to pay for at least 50 Hollywood dinners and 100 sessions with J.Los stylist. Who would walk away from that?

But they dont have a choice. The same reason they got where they were is whats gnawing away at them like some vermin. Just dont feel bad for them. The entertainment industry has evolved into this hydra because of a lack of technology. The barriers to creating and distributing recorded works were so huge that artists had to make gigantic investments in capital equipment and retail channels to get their entertainment products to customers. Now the same technology has lowered said barriers to the price of a computer, some software and an Internet connection. The enabler has become the destroyer.

The first casualty of this paradigm shift will be the celebrity as we know him/her. Real artists produce because they have to. Their demons speak to them through their substance-induced trances and creation results. If their talent merits a sufficient popular interest then they will earn backers and investments and a healthy paycheck for themselves. It will operate like any other business.

The second will be the greatest fleecing in the history of the world (after the Manhattan Purchase) where the recording studios "bundle" 10 or 12 products that you dont want with 1 or 2 that you might. I pick through my grapes at the grocery store; why should I be forced to buy 10 songs that I dont ever want to hear?

There will be many more. In short, if you want to make money as a performer or entertainer you will need to perform and entertain. Not work for a few days every couple of years and then retire to your ranch complete with childrens harem. This is a job and you will need to treat it like one. The same reduction in the barriers to entry will not create any more talent, it will just create more noise and the louder the dogs are barking, the better the swan needs to be singing. Ah...yes folks, natural selection at work. Even though as I look at the current crop of "celebrities" I begin to think that you idiots are more attracted to the lifestyle than you are to the talent. Exhibit A: Paris Hilton.


Internet Guru/Hollywood Consultant

May 28 2005 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: May 28 2005 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Newsletter 5/28/05

Dressing like a middle aged man is but one of the ways to score a 40-year-old MILF.

-- Helga

Dear Your Majesty, Queen Elizabeth,

I am Helga the Help, LiquidGenerations globe-trotting transsexual, and I am writing this with a fake British accent after a holiday in London, England...or Britain...or United Commonwealth...or whatever the hell you call it these days.

Until the moment I stepped off the plane, I thought that we Chicagoans had it bad. Our lifestyle is by no means cheap, especially when one has as refined a taste as I do, but nothing could have prepared me for the armed robbery that masquerades as capitalism in this filth-hole you call a city. What we pay in US Dollars for goods like breakfast, booze and clothing, Londoners pay slightly less in Pounds Sterling. This makes it seem cheaper until one remembers that it costs 1.87 US Dollars to buy a single British Pound and thus a £5.99 morning breakfast cost $11.20. Cant you make like China and peg the damn currency?

But Im just getting started.

Lets talk about the streets. Lets assume for a minute that one actually knows where the hell one is going or can read a map that looks more like a Wheres Waldo cartoon than a metropolitan abstraction. To get anywhere, one has to brave approximately 28 discarded pieces of chewing gum per square yard of street tile. This random snapshot of Oxford Street shows what I mean:

When I went to a club (because every other bloody place closes at 11:00 PM) they searched me more thoroughly than my last proctologist and upon confiscating several sticks of chewing gum, threw them into a pile up to my waist. Are you people a nation of cows too proper to spit into a garbage can? I suggest swapping a few sticks of gum for a few ounces of toothpaste and sparing us the glare of your urine-colored smiles.

Shall we discuss the filth? I do not, by any means live in rain-forest-pure surroundings. But I also am not used to blowing my nose at the end of the day and seeing my usual accumulation of phlegm hosting black substances too numerous to count and too disgusting to identify. It briefly made me consider the possibility that all the crap on the sidewalk was not gum after all but toxic nasal drip. That was until I paid a bum 50 pence, (93 cents) to chew some of it. It was gum all right.

Which brings us to a British assault on my lifes greatest passion: restaurants. London allegedly has no shortage of the good, the bad and the absolutely, positively disgusting. I assume the good is out there, but on this trip, I only got to experience the latter two.

Being a long-time sushiphile, I estimate that I have sucked soybeans out of at least 35,0001 edamame pods since my introduction to the cuisine 7 years ago. Of these, never have I popped out anything other than a soybean out of the venerable pod. That was until I dined at Roka, 37 Charlotte Street, Fitzrovia. Without regurgitating the worn cliché on words and pictures, I will leave to you to decide the value of this one:

1The Math: Roughly 500 meals [approximately 1.37 meals per week], average restaurant serving size = 125 grams, average soybean pod weight = 1 grams; 125 grams / 1 grams/pods/meal X 500 meals = 62,500 pods/2 + allowance for the majority of the meal since I always eat more than my dinner mates. In yo face, bitchass.

If one pays close attention to the top right corner of the photo, one will see why I have renamed Rokas version of the appetizer: Maggotmame. You can thank Rainer Becker, owner and Nic Watt, head chef, for the inventiveness while my reward for inventing a new word will probably be commuted.

Whatever, I mean...BOLLOCKS! I realize that I get pissed off a lot and never before have I aired out my frustration by giving proper names, but the staff at Roka took the general London service-person attitude to new lows by joking that "...why am I pissed, Im still alive..." and very grudgingly getting a low-level floor supervisor to half-heartedly comp me the edamame and a bottle of overpriced sake. Wow. Bless her heart. If Im going to be eating unhatched fly larvae, its going to be during a visit to India or at least on a reality TV show like Fear Factor for loads of cash, not at a restaurant where the meal costs me 200 US Dollars a head and the new pair of shoes that I ruined by getting 30 flavors of gum stuck to them en route.

And what about the driving? Left side of the street? Are you trying to say that youre all left brained? Sorry, that part is logical, rational and sequential. Look at any street map and see how logical the country is. You are more like a right-brainer who got his corpus-collosum severed. Just like a street that stops only to start a block and a half in another direction. Is there a taxi-driver union that lobbies for confusion or did your city planner have Tourette Syndrome?

In closing, I can only say that I feel sorry for you. A once great empire that occupied a quarter of the worlds land has been relegated to a measly island and a few territories. Now that Ive been to the mother country and have seen where it all began, I can only express my bewilderment of how such rotten roots could have possibly yielded a fruit as magnificent as the United States of America. Its a good thing that you also birthed Canada as the bigger, dumber twin or I would have thought that your imperialism simply passed as badly as post vindaloo gas.

Allah Save the Queen,

Yellow-Toothed Bloke/Scallywag

Apr 30 2005 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Apr 30 2005 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Newsletter April 30th, 2005

Editor’s note: the views reflected in this newsletter do not necessarily reflect those of LiquidGeneration. They do, however, reflect those of a psychopathic, serial-killing pre-operative transsexual who puts the lotion in the basket, if you catch our drift.

Sometimes when I’m driving in my car I get this inexplicable urge to pull over to the side, and hump that yellow line in the road. I’m telling you this, because as a transsexual, I thought you’d understand.

-- Helga

Dear black-turtleneck-wearing, wannabe hipster, Apple zealots,

I am Helga The Help and 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.

Since appearing on Forbes’ list of Business’ Most Powerful Transsexuals, I have been promoted to control LiquidGeneration’s entire technology budget of roughly $15.36 in Tyrese’s change jar and untold millions in American-style, revolving credit card debt. Without wasting any time, I put a few G5s on plastic! But when we got them and tried to put in some much-needed RAM, we were in for a bigger shock than Mr. Fork and Mrs. Light-Socket.

Apple deliberately crapified their entry-level model by bestowing it with a slower bus speed, slower memory and slower expansion slots than the one they introduced in ’’04. Is this almighty Jobs’ idea of how technology is supposed to advance or is his turtleneck inhibiting some much-needed circulation? And yet you black-rimmed glasses-wearing morons lap up their monolithic garbage like it was the best thing since Burberry Check. Perhaps you should all wear turtlenecks. At least they’ll keep the foreskin from coming up over your faces.

I sometimes walk through an office or home and see the big flat-screens with the shiny G5 next to it. NEXT to it. As if it needs to be taking up whatever desk space you’ve saved by getting rid of the tube monitor. Then I’ll check to see what is being worked on and see: email, iTunes, and an Internet browser. Glad to see you making use of that RISC processor serving up those web pages. You’re like those old guys in the gym who prominently wear their 500’ depth-rated Rolexes even though they’ve never gone deeper than the bottom of the Jacuzzi. If you wanted a piece of jewelry you should have gotten a pinky ring. At least that has resale value.

I’m going to put a stop to this nonsense right now. You all took your SATs right?

  • Apple is to computing as Christina Aguilera is to sex. Pretty on the outside, but once inside, you’re lost.

Not that any of you have even a remote chance of getting inside either. Christina doesn’t do overweight slackers while computers...well, they don’t either - so go shove your fat fingers in someone else’s CPU. If you ever start doing anything besides playing iTunes you might realize that the OS can crash with the best of them. At least Windows has the courtesy to show me a pretty blue screen instead of just going all Terri Schiavo on my ass and making me think that it might recover - in like 15 years.

But Helga! The OS is derived from UNIX, which is all powerful blah blah blah. Yeah? And English is derived from Latin but you still got a 400 on your SAT verbal. What the devil do you know of UNIX? Are you sitting there with one of your flat-panels showing a terminal window where you expertly navigate your filesystem permissions and create customized cron jobs? My ass you do. I’d be surprised if you even know how to display your free disk space from the command line. I’d be even more surprised if Steve Jobs did. Oops. Maybe I should take that back before he bans all LiquidGeneration publications from Apple computers forever.

Before he does, let me tell you this: go sip your mochachino at your local Apple Store with the other pretentious snobs and fashion-forward tech-dimwits because the next time I hear how amazing the G5s are, I’m going to saw off your skullcap with your iPod Shuffle cord and downgrade your brain to a slower bus speed.

With Love & Pretentiousness,

Longhorn Slut/Backend Scripter

Apr 15 2005 6:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: amy d long
SENT: Apr 4 2005 11:33PM
SUBJECT:Newsletter Love!


You know I love you and have hung with you through many a controversial topic. Your latest missive however, I cannot support. While I find humor in everyday life and appreciate your similar qualities - this time I feel you've gone too far.

You picked 2 recent heros from the news (Terry Shaivo and the Pope), and somehow bashed them both mercilessly until they were unrecognizable - all without any sense of compassion whatsoever.

I felt your piece was rude, crass and uncalled for. Do you even think your target audience gets your humor? Does your boss? Are you editted at all?


Apr 5 2005 5:23PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Apr 5 2005 5:23PM
SUBJECT:RE: Newsletter Love!

Hi Amy!

I wish I could say that I regret that you feel that way but you have to admit that in the circular dance of offensive humor there will inevitably come around something that you find extremely offensive. I would worry if you were never offended. I sometimes get offended at the stuff I write but realize that a large segment of our demo will laugh and a large one will get pissed off and send in hatemail which I will then post and generate a ton of traffic to both the mailroom and the pieces in question. The trick is to keep the cycle going freshly enough to not offend EVERYONE at the same time. Kind of like in the early days of agriculture the farmer would leave one field fallow so that it could recover and he could plant seed there next spring. This way he would change crops, like I change topics and never beat his field and lifeline to death while working full time.

And I do get edited. LOTS. Although I dont know how good of a gauge this is since our head writer is Slippy and he was the one who suggested we do the Columbine-Shoot-Em-Up-Game. Notice that one never saw the light of web. Neither did the top 10 slogans for American Airlines after 9/11 (flights direct to your office every 30 minutes) or even the top 10 reasons American Nick Berg deserved a beheading: (Reason 1: He wore an orange jump suit. The color this year is [was] pink.) I could go on. Nearly every disaster gets a first draft. Tsunami, Beslan, Lebanons prime minister. Sometimes I think I read my Economist cover to cover every Saturday is just to see what I can pick on. Does that make me a bad person? I prefer to think of myself as a capitalist whore. Ayn Rand would be proud.

All my love (please dont be mad!)


Apr 2 2005 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Apr 2 2005 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Newsletter 4/2/2005 - Pope John Paul II Obituary & Terri Schiavo Obituary

Everyone dies but not everybody becomes a hyper-literate weightlifting tranny.

-- Helga

Dear O-Bitch-You-Nary,

I am Helga the Help, the Internets most pre-operative transsexual, and I would like to offer a prayer and request a moment of silence to honor the passing of two individuals who have changed the world: Terri Schiavo and Pope John Paul II.


Although both spent their last few years on this planet in a vegetative state, one attached to feeding tubes the other to a pedophile conspiracy, neither can be written off as unimportant. Indeed, while these two departees were vastly different in countless ways, it is their many similarities that, in the twilight of their lives, united them.

Despite the media frenzy that enveloped both poppings of this mortal boil, Ms. Schiavo and Mr. The Pope were humble folk from good homes built without asbestos or undocumented labor on the proper side of the tracks. Both sought salvation through self-denial. One of food, the other of consensual heterosexual sex. Both survived assassination attempts by powerful black-robed conspirators, one a member of the Grey Wolves Turkish Terrorists the other of the Federal Bench. And both heroically clung to life through the selfless, tireless services of a feeding tube.

As much as these two giants symbolized to countless citizens of the world, evil forces were hard at work behind both in their most defenseless hours. Rendered into simple, altruistic, intravenously-fed puppets, Ms. Schiavo and Mr. The Pope were shamelessly used to promote the agendas of their respective endowments. Mr. The Pope of the Communist College of Cardinals and Ms. Schiavo of conservatives...both of life and 7-figure malpractice payouts.

But no negativity can long endure the contribution these two fallen warriors have made to society. Ms. Schiavo, despite having lived for roughly half the time as her similarly-fed pal, has served as a living...um...breathing example to both bulimics and those who lack a living will. Pope John Pauls contributions, however, cannot so easily be numbered. Not only did he start the trendiness of having two first names (since adopted by gay men everywhere) or even serve as the nominal inspiration for the Pope-Mobile, but he also demonstrated his flawless ability to cover-up corporate scandal with the same skill and greater success than many a corporate chieftan. Impressive considering that one involved abuse of shareholders while the other pre-pubescent boys.

In closing I can only prove wrong the late, great Andy Warhol who famously quipped that everyone would be famous for 15 minutes. Terry Schiavo has been famous for the better part of three and a half weeks while Pope John Paul...at least a month.

Love & Feeding Tubes,



Apr 1 2005 4:07PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Apr 1 2005 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Runner Up: Newsletter 4/2/05

Dear Heart of the Nation,

I am Helga the Help, the Internets most compassionate pre-operative transsexual, and I would like to share with you a sad story about lunch. A few weeks ago I bought a sweet potato and as I was getting ready to eat it I noticed that it didnt look, well, quite right. It was almost as if the potato had a chemical imbalance. But instead of cruelly discarding it like everyone else, I set it up in a little hospice area of my office and aimed my brightest fluorescent light at it to help it recover.

Weeks passed. I left the lights on day and night and even connected a tube from the faucet to provide a steady stream of hydration and nourishment. Nothing. My potato was just in a permanent vegetative state.

More time passed. The potato began to get bloated and turn strange colors. I was like - totally heartbroken. What started off as a simple lunch turned into something more and I felt like I was married to this potato. Finally, as strange acne-like growths began to appear on the potatos skin, I could take it no more - I disconnected the life-giving tube from the potato.

As word got around, crowds began to form outside the esteemed LiquidGeneration office building. The checkout clerk and bagger from whom I bought the potato came urging me to replace the tube and they werent alone. The farmer who grew it and the undocumented worker who picked it came to urge me to let the potato live. It was, after all, their child. They appealed to the building management company and even to the Chicago Water Department who refused to hear their case. Unrelated people would try to run into the building carrying top soil thinking that the potato could just be planted back. It was a sad, sad scene.

But I was strong. I knew that even though the potato could not tell me its living will, it would have never wanted to be kept alive like this…like a vegetable. So I held my ground. The building manager flew back from vacation to sign an order to have the building flooded but - as before - the Water Department refused. Time was running out.

But then, as the potato was vegetating its last moments, I took pity on the crowd and let them in to see their child. Then kicked out the lot of them! I had custody dammit! I would cremate my potato and bury it in an undisclosed location to avoid what would, no doubt, be a media frenzy. The potatos three and a half weeks of fame were not yet up.



Mar 5 2005 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Mar 5 2005 12:00AM
SUBJECT:LiquidGeneration Newsletter 3/5/2005

I am the only transsexual Paris Hilton impersonator ever to be featured in Star Magazine.

-- Helga

Dear Iambically-Challenged Punk-Asses,

I am Helga The Help, LiquidGenerations most eloquent transsexual and I would like to tell you that being a woman rocks the house right off its foundation. So for all those whove written in asking why in tarnation I am a transsexual, here is my answer. In verse.

When I am a girl, my life will be sweet.
Boysd buy me jewels in hopes of a treat.

When I am a girl, Ill be a conniver,
Ill gossip to friends and be a worse driver.

When I am a girl, Ill have sensitive feelings.
Climb the corporate ladder, straight into glass ceilings.

When I am a girl, Ill resent that the gents
Earn a dollar compared to my seventy cents.

Ill go out to bars, bat my eyelids and squeal.
Pretend not to notice dudes copping a feel.

When I am a girl, Ill giggle and wink.
Ill flirt with the studs and never pay for a drink.

When I am a girl, Ill obsess if Im slim.
Ill count the net carbs and never go to the gym.

When I am a girl, Ill envy your noodle
Ill need a support group to pee like a poodle.

When I am a girl, Ill get excited for hours,
Ill never wear panties and have a weakness for flowers.

Ill play with all day, my bundle of nerves
And never give up what no man deserves.

Then one week a month Ill have an excuse
To spread venom, and hatred and mental abuse.

But the thing to which I look forward the most,
The thing to which all the girls will toast,

Is the turning of any innocent spat

So for all of these reasons and infinite more
I can hardly contain my feminine lore.

For when I am a girl Ill marry some jerk
So I can eat bonbons and let him go to work.

Ill cut my hair short and since Ill be a wife,
Ill gain five pounds a year, for the rest of my life.

But now back to real life for Helga The Virgin
As known on the corner where I earn for the surgeon.

With Stratford-upon-Avon,

Paris Hilton/Bikini Whore

Feb 5 2005 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Feb 5 2005 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Thank the Military - MY ASS!

Taking blame for LiquidGenerations slow servers is not in my job description.

-- Helga

Dear Men, Women (and transsexuals) of the Armed Services,

I am Private Helga Rambeaux, LiquidGenerations highest-ranking enlisted transsexual. And for the last few years, you all have been surfing a tsunami of public praise that you dont deserve. Yes, yes, we're all aware that you are your mama's children and that you're in harm's way over there in the jungles of Cambodia but honestly, you were probably in greater danger back home at the chicken plant where a daydream could land you in the next vat of boneless skinless. At least here you have accommodations as comfortable as any entry-level single-wide and the coolest gadgets outside of Japan. What did you have back home? Blue light specials in aisle 80?

I have to sit here day and night going blind on code and what do I get for my trouble? About 2 gigabytes of virus-ridden hate mail every week. Nobody sends me love notes or their panties. I didnt get a $70,000 benefit package so that I could fail out of my plumber apprentice program for showing too much crack and I certainly didnt get 6 grand cash bonus to blow on a Trans-Camaro and neons. And I dont even get to carry automatic weapons to protect me from Chicagos own special breed of insurgents: the cab drivers.

You know how much more fun it would be to get together with a bunch of fraternity-minded punk-asses and play a slew of awesome pranks of unsuspecting civilians? Except instead of toilet paper and shaving cream, Ill be using rocket launchers! Dont speak American? Better learn before I shove an anti-tank falafel up your nose. Looter? Shoot her. Didnt hear what I said? Two in da head. Id show those Viet-Cong how we do things in the Midwest. Id even show all of you things you cant learn working third shift at the Perdue Chicken plant. Yes - Id bring real transsexual flair to the battlefields and bunks alike. The communists wouldnt stand a chance.

So the next time any of you tell me how grateful I should be to the men and women (and transsexuals) of the armed services, Im gonna put you on a leash and show you my gratitude. And then deep-fry your fat ass.


Private Helga Rambeaux
Programming Poseur/Crotch Rot Specialist

Feb 8 2005 12:00PM

-----Original Message-----
SENT: Feb 5 2005 1:41PM

I ever see another anti-military letter from you, and we will hunt you down and make you 'disappear'.


Feb 8 2005 10:24AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Feb 8 2005 10:24AM
SUBJECT:RE: Newsletter 2/5/2005

Hunting and gathering is about the level of human development at which you and your misfit friends are stuck so Im not surprised at all.

No go jog around the bases or do something equally productive Private Pudgy.

Feb 5 2005 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Feb 5 2005 1:00PM
SUBJECT:Newsletter 2/5/2005

Taking blame for LiquidGenerations slow servers is not in my job description.

-- Helga

Dear Men, Women (and transsexuals) of the Armed Services,

I am Private Helga Rambeaux, LiquidGenerations highest-ranking enlisted transsexual. And for the last few years, you all have been surfing a tsunami of public praise that you dont deserve. Yes, yes, we're all aware that you are your mama's children and that you're in harm's way over there in the jungles of Cambodia but honestly, you were probably in greater danger back home at the chicken plant where a daydream could land you in the next vat of boneless skinless. At least here you have accommodations as comfortable as any entry-level single-wide and the coolest gadgets outside of Japan. What did you have back home? Blue light specials in aisle 80?

I have to sit here day and night going blind on code and what do I get for my trouble? About 2 gigabytes of virus-ridden hate mail every week. Nobody sends me love notes or their panties. I didnt get a $70,000 benefit package so that I could fail out of my plumber apprentice program for showing too much crack and I certainly didnt get 6 grand cash bonus to blow on a Trans-Camaro and neons. And I dont even get to carry automatic weapons to protect me from Chicagos own special breed of insurgents: the cab drivers.

You know how much more fun it would be to get together with a bunch of fraternity-minded punk-asses and play a slew of awesome pranks of unsuspecting civilians? Except instead of toilet paper and shaving cream, Ill be using rocket launchers! Dont speak American? Better learn before I shove an anti-tank falafel up your nose. Looter? Shoot her. Didnt hear what I said? Two in da head. Id show those Viet-Cong how we do things in the Midwest. Id even show all of you things you cant learn working third shift at the Perdue Chicken plant. Yes - Id bring real transsexual flair to the battlefields and bunks alike. The communists wouldnt stand a chance.

So the next time any of you tell me how grateful I should be to the men and women (and transsexuals) of the armed services, Im gonna put you on a leash and show you my gratitude. And then deep-fry your fat ass.


Private Helga Rambeaux
Programming Poseur/Crotch Rot Specialist

Dec 11 2004 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Dec 11 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Newsletter - Holiday Gift Ideas

"It does not matter that only a few in each generation will grasp and achieve the full reality of being a transsexual, and the rest will betray it. It is those few men who wear fishnet stockings and give transsexuality its meaning, and it is those few that I have always sought to address. The rest are no concern of mine; it is not me or LiquidGeneration that they will betray: it is their own souls."

-- Ayn Helga Rand.

Dear Holiday Shopper,

This is Helga The Help, LiquidGenerations most conservative, uncircumcised, pre-operative transsexual and like Oprah, I have put together a list of my favorite things to help you get off your fat, lazy asses and do your shopping for the holiday season. Only unlike the pear-shaped talk-diva, I have showcased gifts that will show your worldliness and interest in global welfare.

  1. Diamonds. Two months salary my squatters ass. Maybe at Wal-Mart. Show your support for population control by insisting upon blood-diamonds from ethnically cleansed regions of Africa. Be sure to include a note estimating how many generations will die from machete-driven genocide with your support.

  2. Ivory. Elephants are ugly and a waste of space. They mostly lumber around scaring the devil out of small animals and dont help the food cycle one iota since they dont really have any predators or prey. Put them out of their misery. Spend 100 bucks or more and get your very own sticker from the Local Poachers Union.

  3. Years supply of veal. According to the Kinsey report, a reassuring percentage of farm hands have had sexual relations with farm animals. I personally commend those who can expand their companionship horizons beyond their own species and think there should be a separate market for their product. It should include pre-slaughter pictures of the calves in Agent Provocateur lingerie and Burberry footies.

  4. Gas-guzzling SUV. It is important to show your support for the troops in the Middle East by keeping the black gold flowing to those who need it most. With every tank full, you are helping a crown prince fund the bare necessities of the desert lifestyle. Like that 5th swimming pool.

  5. Fur. You thought I forgot didnt you? Dumbass. Who doesnt like a healthy dose of beaver? Chicago winters be damned. Your love will be stylin in his/her very own animal hide. All furs should come with the prod used to electrocute the animal via the business end of its large intestine. A certificate of authenticity that the animal earned its place on said persons back.

Or you can be a follower and buy one of those stupid terrycloth hoodies from the GAP like Oprah told you to. Help them blend into the crowd by wearing its uniform. Just dont forget the iPod and copy of the Da Vinci Code for total social camouflage.

Always on call for the holiday cheer,

Capitalist Pig/Roarks Bitch

Jan 9 2005 10:53AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Jan 8 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Newsletter 1-8-2004

Contradictions do not exist. Whenever you think you are facing a contradiction, check your premise. You will find that one of them is wrong. Or you can check your privates, and youll find that that is wrong, too.

-- Helga

Dear New Years Resolutionists,

I am Helga The Help, LiquidGenerations most compassionate, pre-operative transsexual and I want to tell all of you January health nuts to go home and watch some TV. Or better yet, get bent.

I hate this time of year more than any other because I cannot just go to the gym in peace. For the next 4-5 weeks, the place will be teeming with part-time work-out mavens, full-time fatasses like you, taking up space and interrupting my routine. And you wanna know what really bugs me? I dont care about your bad form or your stupid, pointless shoulder stretches. What truly drives a tack through my toenail is the fact that you think that walking on the treadmill constitutes exercise. There you all are...a sea of pork-rind munching, love-handle-shaking, quadruple-chinned diet-soda swillers stomping in place at 2 miles per hour. I have seen ninjas in wheelchairs less pathetic than the lot of you.

I suppose I shouldnt be so hard on you. For every gifted weight-lifter such as myself, there is a countless number of folk who know how to do 5 or 6 exercises, have done them every day for the last 10 years, and wonder why they never see any results. I admire their persistence yet chuckle at their stupidity. I dont want to tell them that one does not become fit doing only bench press any more than one becomes educated doing only 8th grade algebra.

Anyway, as of this writing, I have gone through a torturous week of standing in line and waiting for equipment. My muscles ache as I watch bloated bodies contorting in ways that would make a coroner puke. I want to reach out to you people. Tell you that youre kidding yourselves and to go home to your couch before you smack yourselves in the face with your 15 pound dumbbell curls. But what I actually want is for a tsunami to wash the lot of you against some barbed wire fencing so I can lift in peace.

Shove that up your Happy New Year.


Shaved/Ass Player

Nov 13 2004 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Nov 13 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:LiquidGeneration Newsletter

The thermometer of success is merely the jealousy of the malcontents who dont like to stick thermometers in their butt.

-- Helga.

Dear Ara-Fatties,

I am Helga The Help and Yasser Arafat died like a wimp. Please understand that I held no personal grudges against him even though I had called for an end to Middle Eastern violence several times before and no one was lining up to give me a Nobel Peace Prize.

Even though I find it quite appropriate that he chose a French hospital as the site of his last surrender, I still think that Y-money was a living tribute to survival. Living into your 70s in the Middle East is impressive enough but when you have as many ill-wishers as he did its pure mastery. For someone like that, death should not come gnawing like some vermin. It should be an event to rival Fat Mama Cass ham sandwich.

Here are the top 5 ways the Chairman should have died:

  1. Star in a beheading video. The Oscars have always shunned these screen gems but with Arafat as the star, I think they may relent. If not, the head itself can be sent, Braveheart-style, to Dan Glickman, the new head of the MPAA. Why Mr. Glickman? I just think he would look fabulous in Arafats kaffiyeh. (headgear)

  2. Carve the "Road Map" for peace into his belly. Fraternity pledges get tattoos on their ankles to prove their loyalty. Gangsters get scars on their arms to remember their barrio past. Dying statesmen should knife their agendas into their guts.

  3. Get chased into a concrete pillar by Israeli paparazzi. Isnt it about time that someone took away Princess Dianas monopoly on high-speed tunnel death? And besides, this way he would be all over the radio. And maybe even the rest of the dashboard.

  4. Perform a striptease in front of the Wailing Wall. Im sure the Jews wouldnt be too fond of this and make the offenders dispatch swift, however, the rest of us would always know his legacy and what they really mean by the term "Gaza Strip."

  5. And, of course, the number one way Yasser Arafat should have departed this earth: blown himself up. Pretend hes in a coma, have Ariel Sharon over for his last respects, jump up, scream SIKE! And detonate. What better way to literally show your followers what youre made of? For anyone considering this, just be sure not to eat any Chipotle with spicy sauce for lunch or you might "explode" before you explode if you catch my drift.

So there you have them...the 5 greatest methods of statesman-like departure from this planet. Im Helga The Help. Until next month, keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for that hand-grenade.

Love & Pork Rinds,

Helga The Help
Chick With A Stick/ Tranny Tricker

Oct 9 2004 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Oct 9 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:LiquidGeneration Newsletter

The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to be two opposed sexes at the same time and still retain the ability to get an erection.

-- Helga.

Dear trophy girlfriends,

I am Helga, LiquidGenerations most astonishing transsexual and you are nothing more than another of your boys toys.

Many of you are too ugly to be compared to cars and would find more in common with an 18-speed from Wal-Mart, but for those of you who do qualify, I have developed a guide.

If you look like:

Gwenyth Paltrow: you are a Ferrari. Red. He shows you off to his friends and parks you front and center at restaurants. Your job is to look stunning and perform well (you know how!). You are super high-maintenance and your annoying growl is not pleasing to anyone but the driver for short periods of time.

Paris Hilton: Plymouth Prowler. Purple. Even though there was a time when morons paid huge premiums over your sticker price to take your trendy ass home, they soon discovered that the owners club wasnt that exclusive and the bath they took on trade-in was in nursing home bathwater.

Mischa Barton: Porsche Boxter. You are tiny and peppy but can easily be spanked on the open road by any turbo-charged Subaru for half your sticker price. Youre high-maintenance and have no trunk space, so you break if anyone tries to force in that extra set of golf clubs.

Jennifer Lopez: Honda Civic with about 50K of aftermarket add-ons. Sure youve got the moves and can spank a Ferrari on 0-60 with all of your nitro-sniffing, fuel-injected garbage, but strip away all the layers and youre nothing more than a mass-produced crotch-rocket. Oh, and your driver used to steal car stereos.

Kathie Lee Gifford: 1994 Mercedes S500 sedan. There was a time when you were beautiful and exclusive but now you just look like a tank sitting in the driveway. Better watch it cuz with your faded interior and dimmed headlights, you could easily be traded straight up for a new entry level BMW.

Camryn Manheim: Ford Windstar Minivan. You arent even that useful because you have only one sliding door. You have lots of dings, just like your stretch marks, because your owner doesnt really care how many shopping carts hit you at the supermarket. You crave to be driven hard but as soon as anyone steps on the gas you sputter and crawl.

So please! Get over yourself and let those of us who normally cant afford you hitch a ride!


Programmer/Bubble Butt

Sep 13 2004 12:00PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Sep 11 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Newsletter 9/11/2004

Of the many signs of mental illness, obesity is the surest.
-- Helga.

Dear Moral Vegetarian,

I am Helga, LiquidGeneration’s most astonishing transsexual, and I would like to point out that you are a blithering idiot.

Do you honestly think that you are making a lick of difference in what you think is a "non-animal discipline?" First of all, let’s examine this so-called religion. Can you make the following statement: "I have not purchased a consumer product since adopting this unoriginal philosophy." If you’re reading this, then I’m afraid you cannot so shut up. Animal killer.

Now that we’ve established that you’re not just stupid but also a hypocrite, let us examine what your philosophy is costing you. How many of you think that carnivorous diets are evolutionarily behind your own? Oops. Sorry. Indeed it was the greater efficiency of a high-protein carnivorous diet that enabled humans to grow beyond the great apes, who need to eat about 100 pounds of crappy vegetation daily just to get a fraction of nutrients that a good filet has. Such a compact diet also paved the way for a smaller gut and a larger, more blood-enriched brain. This is to say nothing of the hunting, gathering and spatial attack skills that were required to hunt one’s food rather than pluck it from a tree. I could go on about the evolutionary advantages but if you’re really interested, you can read A Brief History of the Mind by William H. Calvin. I hope it’s not too complex for you.

Next, how many of you think your vegan diets are healthier? What did you have for lunch today? Falafel? French Fries? Thought so. Meatless does not equal guiltless. For those of you in your thirties take a look in the mirror. How’s your skin/complexion? How are your fingernails? Your hair? Good and healthy they all? Didn’t think so. You’re a little old for zits aren’t you? Grow up and have a steak.

Finally, let’s come back to consumer products. Do you know how they kill those calves to get the touchably soft leather for your Prada shoes and Gucci handbag? They insert an electric prod up their anuses and let the voltage flow as freely as diarrhea. They do this because cutting the skin sacrifices more usable leather and would add a few bucks to your already maxed-out credit card bill pissing you off. So unless you are prepared to withdraw yourself from the global economy of animal products and farm your own food, don’t talk to me about not eating animals. Admit that you are lazy and unoriginal and only willing to go as far as your stupid moral line in the sand. Think about this letter the next time you feel like some ice cream or Jell-o or that nice Louis Vuitton Handbag. Then print it out and shove it down your throat.


Health Nut/300 Cholesterol

Aug 19 2004 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Aug 14 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Newsletter 8/14/2004

Like many, I consider myself a fiscal republican, social democrat, environmental green and sexual pink.

-- Helga.

Dear Free-loading Punk-asses,

This is Helga The Help, LiquidGeneration’s only pre-operative transsexual and otherwise genetically perfect specimen. Today I would like to offer my advice to presidential candidates George W. Bush and John Kerry on balancing the Federal budget:

1. Eliminate Social Security: Let me take you through a very simple logic exercise. You work...you earn...you eat. You don’t work...you don’t earn...you croak. Don’t like it? SAVE!

2. Eliminate Welfare: At least old people are senile and drive slowly. What’s your excuse you single mother of 10? Let me take you through a very simple economics exercise: 12 pack of Trojan Pleasure Mesh (my favorite): $8.25. 18 years of supporting your bastard misfit: MUCH MUCH MORE!!!

3. Close down Public Schooling: We’ve tried, we’ve failed. It’s time to move on. Those who are truly driven to learn can do so free of charge from countless sources. Let’s put part of the funding into honing the skills kids really need. Carjacking/Reflexes can be practiced with Grand Theft Auto while the intricacies of Human-Computer Interaction (HCI) can be learned from any decent porn site. Welcome to 2004.

4. Eliminate Amtrak: What does mommy bird (The Fed) do when it pushes little bird (Amtrak) out of the nest and little bird falls? Nothing because, hopefully, little bird falls to its death

5. Eliminate the office of Vice-President: I say this grudgingly because Monkey thinks John Edwards is dreamy. But what the devil does the Veep do all day to earn his $202,900/year? What do you all say we put someone on call for when the pres gets shot or the senate ties?

6. Confiscate Canada: I’m not sure the Canadians appreciate how much we do for them. Isn’t it time we remind them who owns North America? This brings me to my next point:

7. Re-Instate Slavery: We can begin with the newly-confiscated Province of Quebec. Nobody likes the French, much less some French-speaking wannabe aristocrats. Shut up all the reparationists with their very own Quebecker butler/slave.

8. Outlaw Fast Food: With the monsterous cheeseburger black market such a law would generate, along with all of the resulting police jobs and enforcement dollars, I’m surprised Burger King hasn’t yet been "mobbed-up."

9. Eliminate the Prison System: What good is it really? It simply serves as an apprentice program for newly-minted criminals They want to be aggressive? Send them to the military. They want to cheat and steal? Send them into Congress.

10. And the number one way to save federal tax dollars: Compulsory Parental Licensing I’m sorry but a pair of functional genitals does not a good and viable offspring make. Fewer misfits means fewer mouths that can’t feed themselves means fewer criminals means fewer welfare recipients...etc. Shuddup. You had no problem taking a driver’s test did you?

Just remember, all you free-loading, child-popping, McDonald’s-eating bastards, your days are numbered.

Suck it,

Shaved/Badonkadonk Butt

Jul 19 2004 2:00PM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Jul 17 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Cannibalism Newsletter

Restaurant wait-staff is the last vestige of society over which suburban housewives try to feel superior.
-- Helga.

Dear Old-fashioned Young People,
I’m Helga, LiquidGeneration’s only surviving pre-operative transsexual and I believe that time is long overdue to re-implement an old custom: cannibalism.
Dating back to times pre-historic, people snacking on people was never a thing of shame or grotesquery but rather a symbol of respect. You ate your enemy’s heart if you valued his bravery, his brain if you respected his intellect and his large intestine if you were jealous of his ability to pass gas at several different octaves in one discharge.
It is really a shame that we in the civilized world attach such a stigma to cannibalism because with all of the advancements in the culinary arts, I can think of several outstanding dishes every person would enjoy.

  1. Foie Gras de Homo Sapien - This delicacy would not even require force-feed tubes as most people are so obese anyway that their livers are probably 10 times the size of any self-respecting duck. Yum. Just please -- no alcoholics That would be gross.

  2. Humanus Parmesanus - Like the mouth-watering veal dish, chefs would select only the most immobile children from large farms where they would be encouraged to play as much Playstation and Xbox as they can stomach and then required to play more!!! No need for expensive steel cages or foot shackles.

  3. Intelligent Sweetbreads - for this culinary delight, chefs would select only the smartest, most gifted persons who scored in the 95th percentile or higher on their SATs.

  4. Vermicelli Lecterini - After the famed psychiatrist from the Thomas Harris novels, this low-carb dish will be made exclusively from the lightly seasoned hair of Atkins dieters. Best when paired with fava beans and a nice Chianti. Efefefefefef!

  5. Donner Party to Go! - Don’t take a long trip without these! More than just a catchy name, this tasty snack will consist of lightly browned, thinly sliced butt steaks perfect for the cannibalistic sales road-warrior.

  6. Filet O’Dahmer - This pioneer in human gastronomy now shares his experience with you. Rest assured that after his 12 step program, you’ll be an expert at selecting the tastiest homosexuals for your family get-together.

  7. Salt ’’N Peppa - This delicious seasoning will add flavah to even the dullest dishes as its secret ingredient is dried flakes of bi-racial stand-up comedians.

I typically outsource all of my food preparation and am no expert in the culinary arts so can you imagine the wonders a professional chef could unleash on the gastronomical markets?
Licking My Chops,
RedBull Drinker/Wierdo

Jun 19 2004 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Jun 19 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Monogamy Newsletter

Transsexuals ought not to be judged except on the quality of their wigs.

-- Helga.

Dear Moral Guardians of the World,

I’m Helga, LiquidGeneration’s most eligible transsexual and I’m here to tell you that monogamy sucks monkey privates.

Who invented this load of manure anyway? Cave people? Jesus? Slippy Jenkins? Phooey to all of them. Remember that cave people are almost extinct, Jesus couldn’t get any from a flipping prostitute and Slippy is a spoiled rich kid with an English degree.

Humans were by no means the first, however, an idea evolved that stipulated an offspring would have a better chance of survival if both parties responsible for the little beastie would cooperate in its rearing. Fine. Perhaps even a hundred years ago. But I submit to you, dear reader, that in a country as old and refined as the United States of America, such nostalgia causes more harm than good.

Think about it. Do you wear just one outfit? Do you eat the same meal for breakfast, lunch and dinner? How many pieces of furniture do you have? How many books? How many cars? Indeed, if given the freedom, you would never even think of limiting your consumption of those items that make you happy. You have multiple moods and want multiple means of satisfying them. So who the hell made you think that something as complex as a relationship could ever be satisfied by one single person?

I thought so.

All of you married couples with 2.5 children and 6.25 grandchildren never bothered deviating from the textbook of life that you’ve inherited from countless previous generations. You’ve never bothered asking yourself if you are doing something because it will truly make you happy or just because society expects you to conform.

I can hear all of you now: "Marriage is a sacred institutionblah blah blah." Shove it up your nose. You don’t deserve the large brain you have up there. Your spinal cord would do you just fine.


Timeless Beauty/Carnivore

Jan 30 2004 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Jan 30 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Helga The Mom

Dear Single Teen Mother,

This is Helga The Help, LiquidGeneration's beautiful and articulate pre-operative transsexual. Despite the fact that my teenage years are a distant memory, I too have decided to become a mother. All in all, an offspring is probably the best investment anyone can make. They can fetch your paper in the morning, get a job stitching soccer balls while kicking their wages back to you, and best of all: when you get old and bitter, you can ruin any chances they have to be happy by living with them.

Yep. Helga's gonna reproduce!

And why shouldn't I? Unlike most of you, I have the maturity to know that just having a man ain't enough. I am a great-looking, stable, well-adjusted man/woman with a great job and outstanding dental benefits. It would be selfish of me not to share such social supremacy with an offspring.

Unfortunately, there are complications. See, in America, the mother has complete control of all fetus-related issues pretty much until the moment it pops out of her. Since biologically, I do not fit the definition (yet), I would need to outsource the actual pregnancy to a third party - Michael Jackson style. Besides, everyone is outsourcing these days, why shouldn't I? Only the hell if I'm going to allow some incubator to make decisions about MY fertilized egg! Ha!

The solution: I'm going to get my swaparoo done in the first trimester! Then, I'm going to start making decisions concerning my soon-to-be-born servant. When the egg-factory objects, I'm going to scream in my Billy Bob Thornton accent: "Shaddup you pot-bellied ho! I'm the momma here!" Perhaps I'll add a punch to the chops for effect.

In a few years, while all of your investments are still in the toilet, my returns will be flying as high as an African Vulture.


Helga The Help

Jan 2 2004 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Jan 2 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Joys of Smoking

I am Helga The Help and I would like to welcome you to the New Year!

Like many of you, I have resolved to begin 2004 with several behavioral modifications. Although most of them are not suitable for an LG Newsletter, I am happy to say that atop my list is something that many of you already do.

I am going to start smoking.

No longer will I to spend 18 hours days in uninterrupted programming sessions. Just think of how much my productivity would increase if my bloodstream were infused with nicotine and daily grind with 10,000 smoke breaks.

This is to say nothing of the unspoken connection that I would feel with countless other smokers whose persecution has created a bond of magical endurance. Smokers have a built-in ice-breaker in "hey…you gotta light?" and when cigarette lips finally meet, neither really has to worry about bad breath no matter how much Indian food they had for lunch.

Then there is the cool factor. Hollywood has long had a love-affair with the venerable cigarette. Why, with just a little practice, I will be able to look just as good as Greta Garbo with my pouting lips sucking tar into my lungs and my emotions into the heavens. I would learn how to do tricks like blow smoke rings or maybe the oral release/nasal uptake.

I still haven't decided how to hold the cigarettes being kind of torn between index finger/thumb utility and index-middle finger elegance; although I think that this one will be settled when I decide on a brand. I am going to apply the scientific method to the selection process and take into account lawsuit settlements, phallic imagery and rugged advertising campaigns. If all goes well, I will be looking at a smokey 2004 and who knows? Perhaps in 50 years, I too will get to add that really sexy rasp to my voice and parchment feel to my skin.

Apr 19 2004 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Apr 19 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Jim Cantalupo

Dearest Super-Sizers,

This is Helga The Help, pre-operative transsexual and fitness superstar.

Don't you all find it ironic that Jim Cantalupo, the late CEO of McDonalds, died of a heart attack under such shrouded circumstances? What I find the most interesting that he had the heart attack around 3 A.M., was discovered almost immediately and yet not in time to super-size another day. Stressful poker night with his fellow execs or did McJimmy have another, more sinister late night visitor to his room? One who may have mistaken the warning signs of an oncoming heart attack with…say…something more pleasurable?

Now I am a good deal younger than 60 but I know that sometimes, in the heat of the moment, I tend to flail about and sometimes hit my funny bone causing my left side to go numb. If I had my usual drunken 2:00 A.M. tacos, I'll even get heartburn. The first several times, at the onset of these symptoms, I would throw myself to the floor and in all of my transsexual drama scream that I was having a heart attack! Sadly, no one ever took it seriously and indeed some seemed more proud of their pleasuring prowess. If I were truly dying, no one would have known until the guys downstairs started smelling me rot.

Luckily, whoever was keeping Mr. Cantalupo company that evening was more perceptive than my typical Sunday night fare and he was thus afforded the dignity to gasp his last breath into an oxygen mask. I would have been discovered naked…room a mess…secret sauce everywhere.

No one would have written about my stellar accomplishments at LiquidGeneration. No one would have publicly appointed my successor. It would be a stretch to hope that Slippy would have the decency to write something meaningful on my tombstone. As for the rest of you bastards, who wrote me all that awful hate-mail, remember that your punishment will come with Armageddon and a good old fashioned transsexual ass-kicking.


Helga The Uncircumcised Pre-operative Transsexual

Feb 27 2004 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Feb 27 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Southbeach Homosexuals

This is Helga, LiquidGenerations beloved pre-operative M2F reporting live from South Miami Beach!

I arrived expecting to see beautiful people, drink fabulous margaritas and swim naked in your grandmas swimming pool. Instead, I see nothing but designer wannabes, overpriced alcohol and some kind of invisible perimeter for anyone over 40. This is not necessarily a bad thing unless you are indeed a hotshot fashion designer and want to mingle with young boys. Just make sure not to have marble steps in your doorway because should anything happen to you there, marble soaks up blood which could really affect resale value.

Anyway, I am having so much fun here that I feel like a new man/woman. I want to buy a house but dont think the security deposit refund on my 200 sft Chicago apartment would cover the down payment. The only things that really frighten me about this place is the lack of fashion sense and the supreme attitude to the contrary that accompanies it.

I mean grow up and smell the p***y-willows you buncha Fab 5 wannabes. You are SO has been! I am done with your holy air, your grotesque fashion sensibilities and your misconception that experience in rough-putting somehow equates to interior decorating talent.

Several years ago, you gave us Capri pants to show off your flat, hairy calves. Then, you started to button the middle suit coat button without buttoning the top one. If you want a little more breathing room, lose some weight; or at least go get a suit from Sears. They specialize in the softer side. Dont pretend its fashionable to look like a shoe salesman. And now…its the ties…the super short ones with huge misshapen knots. COME ON!!! Isnt it bad enough that you look like you went shopping in the little boys section of K-mart without also having to look as though one of them tied the knot for you??? Ugly Bastards.

If you call yourselves men, I am glad I will soon no longer be one.

Apr 1 2004 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Apr 1 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Virus Mails

On your knees! It's Helga The Help.

I am SO SICK of getting this barrage of viruses in my inbox.

I came to work today and realized in horror that I forgot to leave my Outlook running overnight. 300 messages.

Who writes these things anyway? Those bastards. So unsophisticated. I kind of miss the days when a virus was 10K long, infected the boot sector of your computer, had polymorphic properties to avoid detection and upon decompilation would look like nothing out of the ordinary. Yet, it would slow your screaming 286 down to a crawl, and if you dared to mess with it, recursively search your subdirectories (folders for you non-techies) and delete all the files everywhere. They also had much cooler names like Stoned Monkey Empire. Wouldn't you rather be infected by that than Melissa? The many battles I've lost to such beasts did not tarnish my spirit any more than would losing in the first round to Mike Tyson. But this e-mail crap? It's kind of like drowning in a rain puddle.

All of this is the fault of the commercialization of technology.

May 11 2004 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: May 11 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Nicholas Berg

Top 5 reasons Nicholas Berg deserved a beheading:

10.) He was hard headed. Americans told him to leave and he didn't. Too bad the hard-headedness didn't reach his neck.

9.) He was a liberal and supported the war. Dr. Dean didn't work his grassroots magic on this chimp. Let's see if he wants to take a stab at re-attaching his head.

8.) He traveled to Ghana to help people. Who the hell would travel anywhere to help those violent bastards? The only help they need is a good Rwanda style ass kicking.

7.) He ran a telco company. If only Eliot Spitzer's did to Bernie Ebbers, Gary Winnick's and other crooked CEOs what the Holy Warriors did to Berg, we may not have lost 3 trillion dollars in wealth over the last few years.

6.) He lived in Philly. What's the last thing these clowns did that was really worthy of world news? Hang on…let me check my Economist archives…the answer:Rocky and its 10 crappy sequels were about it.

5.) He had a scraggly Amish beard. Amish beards look pretty stupid anyway without spectacles and one of those studly hats.

4.) His video was of pathetic quality. I swear the last few moments of one's life, I would think one would insist upon DVD quality.

3.) He gave up like a wimp. So what that it was 5 on 1. He could have at least landed a few good punches.

2.) He was selfish. He was about to get croaked and still couldn't talk about anything but himself, his siblings, his parents. Jeez. What a conceited asshole.

1.) And the #1 reason: He wore an orange jumpsuit. The color this year is PINK!

May 22 2004 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: May 22 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Fatass Newsletter

What a piece of work is a transsexual. How noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and movement, how express and admirable. In action how like an angel, in apprehension, how like a god.

-- Helga.

Dear Fatasses,

Im Helga, LiquidGenerations most eligible transsexual and I would like to welcome you to summer in Chicago.

Sadly, along with all of the eye-candy (which we spend a good chunk of the day monitoring from our windows) come some truly horrifying sights. The other day, I saw a woman whose entire 300 lb. frame was clearly in town for the Jerry Springer Show, but she was nonetheless convinced that she was Britney Spears and dressed accordingly.

I understand that much of it has to do with the fashions of the day, but if you think that low-rider jeans are equal opportunity then you are dumber than Jessica Simpson.

I have decided to compile a list of terms that describe the types of fat found on most big-boned, I-only-eat-salad-with-blue-cheese-dressing-kinds of fat girls.

  1. Fatty Tuna Rolls - The pinched fat on or around the hips caused by low-rise pants in size 4 when you are really a size 12.

  2. Skate Wings - The puckered fat hanging from the triceps (underarms) similar in texture to the eponymous fish and revealed by teeny-weeny tank tops.

  3. Pulled Pork - The red-tinted stretch marks on ones underbelly made visible by a combination of low-rise pants and tiny tanks.

  4. Sausage Links - The obvious similarity of obese fingers to the summer barbeque delicacy. Those afflicted should be required to wear mittens year round.

  5. Tootsie Rolls - The somewhat utilitarian back fat often accentuated by brassieres purchased 4 years and 50 pounds ago. I have seen these large enough to provide temporary storage for things like remote controls and chicken wings.

  6. Bone-in Rib Eye (also known as the cankle) - This phenomenon is seen in short-wearers whose calf connects directly to the foot. No ankle.

  7. Passion Fruit Souffle - Sometimes when the breasts outgrow the bra they simply spill over it like a muffin top or a rising souffle. Too much of these is probably how you got into this whole mess anyway.

  8. Jelly Bellies - This one should be self-explanatory. And disgusting.

  9. Amuse Course - Ever get a HUGE plate with an itsy bit of fancy food? Just like a face adrift in multiple chin and cheek fat.

  10. Double Burger - Sometimes when the stomach extends forward past the breasts, it can provide adequate support without requiring a bra. I bet this looks really funny upside down.

If you have any of the items on this list then get off your fat, lazy ass and get to the gym. In the meanwhile, try to shop someplace more appropriate...like Lane Bryant.

Fitness Expert to the Ugly

Mar 27 2004 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Mar 27 2004 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Islam Newsletter

A salaam alaikum! This is Helga The Mohammed al-Salami, and yes, I have decided to convert to Islam.

Dont bother arguing, Ive made up my mind. I will join the holy ranks of Mike Tyson, Muammar Gadhafi, and my office buildings parolee janitor.

Why am I doing this you ask? Here are my top 5 reasons:

5.) No Shaving. Ever. Whether one is male or female is not important. Think of the money to be saved on hair management accessories. If Andre 3000 wears a turban, so can I! Best sell your Gillette stock now.

4.) Holiness. Walk the streets randomly chanting things like "Allah Akbar Snappleberry" or "Halal creme pudding" or "Elijah Oprah Winfrey". If people stare, point and scream: "Repent ye sinner! Save yourself from the Great Satanovski"!

3.) Arranged Marriage. No matter how ugly I am, someone will have to share my bed. Besides, whom better to pick my lifelong sexual partner than my hipster parents? I dont know about yours, but mine have an excellent track record going back to junior high.

2.) Prayer. 5 sets of 10 reps daily. Bitch about your life to Allah and get a workout all in one! A couple weeks of this kneeling and bowing and my abs will be ready for the Iron Transsexual competition where I will declare a carb-free Jihad on my infidel competitors. YEEE-HAAAW!!!

1.) And FINALLY, the number one reason I am converting to Islam:

70+ virgins.

I only wonder if you can mix and match the sexes. Id do like 10 guys and 60+ girls and start a production company. Id even take 35 virgins and one complete slut who can teach everybody else how to whore around.

When does Allah send down the headshots?

ila l-liqa' (go without fear)

Dec 6 2003 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Dec 6 2003 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Nathan Jones Newsletter

I am Helga The Help and Nathan Jones deserved to get his ass kicked.

You know, that 350 pound (158.76 Kilo) dude in Cincinnati who would not listen to police, got his ass kicked and died from his injuries.

Top 10 are:

  1. He was fat. Police everywhere should target the morbidly obese. The health care cost savings alone would balance the federal budget deficit. It would also put an end to the long lines at McDonalds.

  2. He could not dance. You see that video? Anyone who's got moves like that should never dance. He thought that just because he was black this rule did not apply. Bastard got what was coming to him.

  3. He hung out at White Castle. If you spend your Sundays hanging out and eating Sliders don't be surprised when you get your ass beaten to death.

  4. He was over 40. It should fall to our beloved public servants to protect everyone from the ravages of old age. Tubby will never have to rot away in a nursing home like your grandparents.

  5. He lived in Cincinnati and probably could not spell it. You can't either? Just shove a nightstick down your illiterate throat. You're too stupid to live in such an esteemed city that Jerry Springer got elected mayor.

  6. He used drugs. Think about that the next time you light up that PHP or ASP (or whatever the hell he was using) cigarette. Officer Death can be one baton jab away.

  7. He punched like a girl. What kind of punch was that anyway? Move like the blob and sting like a brick? Mohammed Ali would be so proud.

  8. His mug shot couldn't fit in the picture's space. I know this kind of goes with #1 but can apply to you big-headed beasties as well.

  9. He had a really ugly girlfriend. What is it with all you uglies? The uglier you are the more public affection you have to display at every possible moment. No one wants to see that crap. Someone already beat you with the ugly stick. Shall we make it a nightstick as well?

  10. And the #1 reason Nathan Jones deserved to get his ass kicked: He was not wearing a bra. If you have man boobs and refuse to wear a manssiere you ought to learn how to suck liquid food through prosthetic teeth.

Nah...you just plain deserve to die you fat ugly bastard.

Sep 27 2003 12:00AM

-----Original Message-----
FROM: Helga The Help
SENT: Sep 27 2003 12:00AM
SUBJECT:Evolution Newsletter

On your knees! It's Helga The Help.

Last week Monkey showed us his true colors. He sponsored a child in Sri Lanka.

Now how is it that otherwise intelligent people keep falling for this scam? Let's assume for a second that out of the 20 dollars you pay every month, 10% ends up actually doing this girl good instead of lining the pockets of the TV evangelist.

Who the hell do you people think you are interfering with one of evolution's cardinal rules? "Survival of the Fittest" is not just a rule it's an entire philosophy - and a very correct one. If a creature is too frail to reach reproductive age then IT DOES NOT DESERVE TO REPRODUCE!!!

We in America have all but defeated evolution. Modern medicine can keep alive newborns with MS, Spina Bifida, Downs Syndrome, HIV, webbed feet and peanut allergies. In doing so we secure the likelihood that they will pass on their defective DNA to their own demonic offspring.

Whom are we kidding?

The world should wake up and smell the Galapagos. Procreation has always been the privilege of the strong. As we continue to thin our genetic makeup the third world is breeding our doom.

Fellow youth! I call you to arms! Let's burn our insulin, kill our psychoanalysts and lace our inhalers with chlorine gas. If we keep up this nonsense, in 10 years the once mighty armies of the US will succumb to depression, allergies or clinical exhaustion.