La Hermanduck: A Brotherhood of Fear

The following is a two-part documentary and a warning, really, about a Phantom Menace (dammit) with a mostly benevolent reputation in spite of their obvious (to dogs like me, anyway) true evil nature.

Episode I:                                             Silent… But Deadly

Ducks, or Anus Platyrhynchos, are a species shrouded in mystery. The true nature of ducks is shocking. Many of you still reading this will not be ready to accept the foul stench that ducks bring with them to pollute our society. But then… should we be so surprised? After all, any animal that has the word “Anus” right in their official scientific name…

  “It’s in the name! The product is loaded with bacon!

She’s (Sue)… she’s going to ruin this for us.

 [Turning to Sue now] - You’re going to ruin it for us.”

o    Melissa McCarthy on SNL skit

Ruin it for us?

Yes. That’s exactly what the ducks have in mind for our planet… for our society... for the very way we live our lives.

This phantom menace (damn you, Star Wars) is out to destroy us. Not with a two-sided lightsaber, mind you (god dammit) but in a much subtler way. Ducks, even when travelling on vacation, are not “cool” or adventurous. They hang out by the pool, even though there is a beautiful ocean to swim in less than forty yards away. That’s too far from the bar. Ducks have no time for creative ventures or forays into new places or unfamiliar cultures. Ducks prefer to remain at Sandals the whole time, turning every single destination into a homogenous bland experience just like the last one. Then they return to their gated community… their safe “little pond” as it were.

Think ducks are innocuous and benign entities? Devoid of any “foul intent” or sinister plans? Well then… let me just call on old friend of mine from the eighties to say it clearly for yuz…

“Not even close…. Bud!

Judd Nelson was more than just the leader of that Breakfast Club. He was a revolutionary hero in the war on canards. The French word for “duck” is “canard”. Coincidence? Repeat the Judd Nelson line, folks and look at your notes… or I’m going to point at Pete again. You see it’s all ball bearings these days. That’s why Magic Johnson used the flux capacitor to help Flash Gordon phone home carrying all his Reeces Pieces. Oh… shit. I’m “Seth McFarlaning” right now.

This is a phenomenon that happens when a writer gets bored and lazy at the same time. So… the writer (so… me, in this case) just starts farting out random eighties pop culture references that have absolutely nothing to do with anything. If it makes sense than you are doing it wrong. That is why, as I recently learned, that Mrs. Pacman played third base for Ronald Reagan’s softball team. Hot corner. No, it doesn’t need to be funny, either, to answer your next question.

So why do this?

 The writer (me, here… but usually someone named Seth or Adam Sandler) employs this cheap tactic because they have Dig Dug themselves into a hole. They are simply too stupid and/or stoned to think of something original. Originality takes work. Yikes!

That kind of thing (work) forces a Seth, like the one they call “Rogen” for instance, to have to use brain muscles that have laid dormant for far too many years and/or joints. The task becomes impossible. That’s when Magic Johnson appears… to save the Rebels as well as “the day” (or ruin it, depending on your brain cell count.)

It’s truly sad, to see this happen. I cried for the first five minutes of Sausage Party. Which is exactly as long as I made it into this film. I’m a dog… and the movie is all about fucking sausages… and I still turned it off. I’m better than this. We… are all better than this.

That description was literal by the way. The sausages actually do fuck, I can only assume (based on the first painful five minutes.) Because that’s mature comedy. Right up there with singing “We Saw Your Boobs” to Meryl Streep at the Oscars. Classy. Funny.

Oooohhh… ya know what’s really funny? Kevin James running around with a KFC bucket on his head. You’d have to be at least six years old to get the sheer comic brilliance of that gag.

I bailed on Sausage Party faster than I used to bail on actual sausage parties (too many dudes… to any “Southerners”) back when I was in college. I had to bail, dude. Once those suicidal thoughts start creeping into your head, because you can’t believe how fucking awful Hollywood has become (in general) … especially when it comes to comedies. Bail.

But I digress. Think I’m done talking about ducks?

Insert “Judd Nelson” here. A phrase that is no longer said from one woman gossiping to another, like back in the good ole days when he was younger and more handsome.

Oh… but I’m just warming up the oven, people. We’re having ourselves a genuine “duck roast” tonight. Woo hoo! There’s even a “Duck Hunt” that you’ll be participating in soon. Won’t that be fun? But first, a few more words about our little web-footed enemy.

Ducks are a silent predator. They resemble a nasty “SBD” (you know what that is… in fact you’re doing it right now, aren’t you Brad?) breed of fart in the sense that you never see them coming and by the time you are aware of their foul presence it is too late. Far too late, and your day as well as your reputation (and maybe even your pants) are now soiled.

Silent… but no less deadly, and they mean to destroy us from within. From deep down in our souls, the first thing they want to do is destroy our hope. That’s how you keep the local systems in line. Fear. Fear of this battle station and its destructive powers (fuck me).

Lethal. Menacing. Driven by hate. Filled with lies… and like any breed of “anus” …

Ducks Are Full of Shit

A poem… roasting our first “duck”, by MC Doopers

Ducks are full of shit.

They also have no problem polluting any area or pond they see fit.

They bring noise and garbage to your new neighborhood after you’ve already made a deposit.

The truth about ducks needs to come out of the closet. We got expose them breast and all like Farrah Fausett.

We need to be sharp like a “Hawk”, make good contact like Andre Dawson.

 Cook those bastards faster than Nigella Lawson.

Gang bang “dem bitches” … like we from Crenshaw and Slausson.

Yo’, son… I’m representing the blue state of Boston. New Yorker Michael Che can say whatever lies he wants, I’m agnostic.

I’ve lived in both cities and I know all too well that Staten Island is the most racist borough my feet have ever crossed in. You ever been to any city in Texas, dude? One not named Austin?

I got Powers like Austin… while you sit around costin’ all of us valuable air molecules from that empty sac on your shoulders. The one that all my words are getting lost in.

Yo Che: your stupid and unfunny jokes are becoming increasingly exhausting. Your failures at the Update desk are a main reason SNL’s hot streak from last season has now cooled down almost to the point of frosting.

You ain’t funny, dog. You balloon headed mafucker.  And your mama only taught you “the art of salad tossing”. She’s a real “hassa”. That’s a Yiddish word for “pig”, which I learned in Scarface. You’re a comedic disgrace. What a waste. Che, you and Kyle Mooney are the worst members of the cast by far; your stupid face lingers and often leaves a bad taste.

Be gone - unfunny duck bastard.

You and Kathy Griffin should both leave the comedy world with much haste.

Oh, and one more thing… don’t think I don’t see how you, like fellow New Yorkers Spike Lee and Trump, are nothing more than a stupid fucking racist! Boston’s race riots ended in the seventies, dumbass. You can’t judge an entire city based on one event. Besides… New York is a daily home for racism to flourish in. Like a home base. To insinuate something about a town you visited once is not only stupid… it’s obnoxious and in bad taste.

That was an “original” poem, originally called “Michael Che Can Suck It!”. Ducks are full of shit. They smell worse than Zach Galifinakis’ armpit.

Sadly, my poem did not feature a random appearance from Magic Johnson. That’s because Magic Johnson is currently tied up with all his colluding for the Los Angeles Lakers, forcing me to hate them again. Something really stinks how Lebron and Anthony Davis… and every other basketball player nowadays… are forcing a trade to the Lakers or Clippers, now that Miami’s beach is considered second best. How about we stack everybody onto two rosters. So, the Lakers can play the Clippers every year for a championship. All in warm weather spots, because basketball and legacy don’t really matter anymore. Fucking pussies. Nobody wants to come to Boston, even though they are a well-run, well-coached home of tradition and winning. It’s cold in Boston, and these giant man babies can’t hack it. The league is becoming a joke. NBA players actually queef these days. How else do you explain finishing seventh at the FIBA World Championships in “Jina”. Team USA almost lost to Poland. Unless it involves kielbasa, that should never happen. I’m mad at basketball these days. The colluding. The complaining. Losers.

My basketball ire had, up until recently, turned mostly towards the chicken shit Golden State Warriors, with “head pussy” and new leader in all things vaginal – Kevin “If you can’t beat em’… join them” … Durant. His name is now synonymous with being a huge giant beaver. Huge giant beavers are no joke. They pose a real threat to our existence. Especially when they cross breed with cows and turn into Ceavers and move to Brooklyn, but that is another story for another chapter. This chapter is still about ducks, believe it or not.

The predatory nature of “show business” and ducks. They are both part of the larger enemy hidden in plain sight. They strike when we least expect them to, in the cold dark of night. Ducks are a threat to world peace and our children’s morals in much the same way the Kardashian family is. The Trump Family are ducks. The music industry? Ducks. Hollywood? You guessed it. Tinsel Town has become nothing but a crispy foul animal that should be rolled up, served with hoisin sauce and devoured.

“Listen all y’all it’s a sabotage…

 I can’t stand it. I know ya planned it. Imma set it straight, this Watergate.”

-    a Beastie Boy

  It’s all a cover up. All these distractions and misdirection are all part of the plan to keep The Truth from entering your house. Poor Paul Pierce is standing outside in the rain, but we are so blinded by the madness that nobody has opened the door to let him in. Do not be so blind that you cannot see the dark cloud descending over you. That foul stench of ignorance that permeates the American culture (and British, from what I’ve seen so far) these days.

Make no mistake about it. Begun… the Quack Wars have. You will be forced to choose alliances, as it is going to be Us against Them.

Same as it has always been.

This is not a new fight by any stretch of the imagination, as the war between mankind and ducks goes back centuries. It is a history filled with bloodshed, lost fingers, and deep seeded resentment. The canines wouldn’t join the humans until around 300 A.D. - otherwise known as “After Duck (invasion)”, but my canine brethren are an invaluable ally in this epic battle of good against evil. There are heroes on both sides. Fuck me.

It has been nearly a millennium since their foul stench was first brought on board our “vessel”. Like Vader holding Governor Moff Tarkin’s leash, the ducks finally revealed themselves to the Republic. Any names here that sound like they are from Star Wars is merely a coincidence, just to reiterate. How do we know that they didn’t steal those ideas from this diary? One who’s first draft was written back in… 1976… I believe. Yeah. That’s the ticket. Now that we’ve cleared up any potential legal troubles. Let’s continue with the story of ducks. That “flappy forgotten foe” - feeling no empathy for you folks, or even any fellow foul feathered friends, frankly.

Ducks waited for the right time to strike. Then they crawled out of the shadows in an attempt to take over the Senate… entertainment… and even the White House. They have control of Britain, too. They are the ones who initially pushed the Brexit bill. Coincidentally, a duck’s mouth is called a “bill”. Coincidence? No, I don’t think so. When it comes to ducks… there are no accidents, my friend. Halloween has come and gone, and the fact that Boris Johnson is in power and not a ditch is no accident. He’s a duck; and this whole thing stinks.