Hostage Halloween Treats

With so many Hostages dying off last week, you poor boys never did get a BBF, did you?

Since it’s Halloween, I decided to treat you guys to our lovely Hostagettes in their costumes; I had to do some real detective work to find out what the ladies were wearing this year:

Never fear, fellas - TiFW (as Velma) is on the case!

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Pre-Halloween Superstition Thread

When I was a wee lad, my dear granny told me if I ever sat in a wheelchair I would never walk again.

To this day the sight of a wheelchair gives me anxiety, and you couldn’t pay me to sit in one.

What about you?  What phobiastic psychological scarring did your family and friends give you as a youngster?


It’s been a very sad week here at H2. Several of our esteemed colleagues have passed on, bought the farm, met their maker, bit the dust, kicked the bucket, cashed in, are pushing up daisies, crossed the river Styx, checked out, gone into the fertilizer business, bought the pine condo, etc.

I thought I would summarize the list in this here poat.

First to go was GheeMLand: he succumbed to an STD. Go figure.

Next, was pretty Roamy: somebody flipped her the bird – right smack on top of her head.

Then we lost Cyn: It isn’t at all clear how she died. But she was married to Sarah Palin, so I’m sure she’s in Hell, because she was surely in Heaven here on earth.

That was all on Monday. Then on Tuesday:

We lost Wiser and Wiserbud: it seems they set themselves on fire. First instance of simultaneous spontaneous combustion evar.

Then Carin passed: her horrendous infection was not a pretty sight near the end, but she wouldn’t listen.

Then later that day Dave went: tragic accident involving……wait fot it…..

Wednesday brought us even more tragic news.

Our fearless leader Rosetta left us: But he does that all the time these days, so no biggie.

But then MJ: Something to do with a chicken wing and an alligator. Apparently it wasn’t his first try.

Then the day concluded with the loss of Americano: They make a powder to cure what ailed him, but he was stubborn about certain things.

On to Thursday – more bad news.

MCPO left us: But at his age it was hardly any surprise.

Then we got the tragic news of BiW’s passing: Car accident. Anyone know which ambulance chaser is on his case?

Next up was me: It wasn’t clear from Roamy’s poat whether I am dead or just lost at sea.

Friday brought us two more sad tales.

Poor Mrs. Peel: A side of her was revealed that none were aware of. May she rest in piece.

And finally we were shocked at the loss of Laura: she just couldn’t take it anymore, and managed to provoke a mugging and knife fight.

Anyway, it was a tough week here.

Oh, and by the way, Rosetta, bite us!



Anybody Know Where I Can Buy Some “Rangers 2011 World Series Champs” Shirts?

Ummm…nowhere in the civilized world.

That Shit Never Gets Old. And Neither Does This:


But, take heart, Dallas. When this guy is working for you, grand times are ahead:

Sad Romo Is Sad

Just some shit


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The Late, Lamented Laura W.

Exclusive to The Connecticut Currant and Picayune

Local Woman Dies in Bar Fight

Local resident Laura W. was killed last night at the Nightshade Bar & Grille. According to police reports, Ms. W had accosted several patrons inside the bar during the evening and had been ejected from the club. A man dressed in a chicken costume, identified as Mr. Budd Wiser of 17 Slumlord Court and a prostitute, known only as “Mare” (no fixed address) were walking towards the bar when confronted by Laura W. The victim then brandished a knife at the couple. Several witnesses thought that Ms. W’s appearance was quite frightening and that the couple were clearly defending themselves when “Mare” kicked and stomped on Ms. W. When the victim had fallen, Mr. Wiser proceeded to stab her 40 times with a dirk he had on his person. Police are awaiting the coroner’s report to determine if the death was suspicious.

My friends, we gather here today to celebrate the life of Laura W. She was a sideshow freak and a cook of some renown. But there was more to Laura’s life than these paltry facts and the strange  circumstances of her death. If I may, I wish to relate those singular aspects that made Laura a truly unique character.

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Mrs. Peel has passed… out cold. (Invoice attached)

“Please everyone. Please, we are about to get started. Please be seated and… no you may not ‘feel’ the deceased Mr. Wiser. Please, can we all be seated and lower our voices? Ms. Cyn, would you quit playing scales on the organ… and get off the piano as well. Ms. Car in stop running around the.., of course not! Nobody wants to do a few calisthenics before we begin…. WOULD YOU ALL SIT DOWN AND SHUT THE HELL UP?! Hahaha, very funny Mr. Hotspur – yes, Mrs. Peel’s grandma really fell for the ‘pull my finger’ joke, hilarious…”

“As Associate Executive Assistant Minister on an Interim basis, and on behalf of our entire staff here at St. Fescue’s Amalgamated Church and Greenery, I would like to welcome you all here today. First, please join me in a round of applause and thank the high school choir and glee club for that rousing rendition of ‘Amazing Grace’, sung to the music of Madonna’s Like a Virgin, complete with our very own River Dance team and flag corps. Impressive to say the least (lots of applause)…  Mr. Peel certainly appeared to enjoy it and seemed fitting that he joined the River dancers on stage. Thank you and welcome everyone on this bright and beautiful Autumn day. I know our Senior PastorChief sends his regrets, but the tee time was set weeks ago and he really wanted to get 18 in today. At the conclusion of today’s service, we will be passing the donation plate around, we have arranged a 60/40 split with Mr. Peel and appreciate your kind donation.”

“What does one say upon learning of the passing of such a fine ass creature, er, a lady like Mrs. Peel? Anybody? Seriously, I’m asking for real. This is my first funeral and I only have experience with 2 gay weddings and a consultation in a death chamber with a former roommate 15 minutes prior to… well, nevermind.. Nobody?! Fine, I’ll just wing it.”

“First, I am going to read a few words from Mr. Peel since he has already started the post-funeral celebration and has imbibed a little too much this morning.

Fornication…. such as this, I do not wish to dwell on the memory of the recently departed Mrs. Peel, or, Sugar Tits, as so many of you have come to know her. Yes, her chest was impressive as we have all seen in the magazine’s and on her personal website, WWW.HOLY SHIT! LOOK AT MY HUGE TITS.COM. Her 42FF’s did not make the woman though, although it did account for about 67% of the woman. I do not wish to dwell on the beautiful smile that seemingly lit a room by its mere suggestion. I do not wish to recall the feel of her warm breath on the back of my neck as she moaned, “pass the salt”. The feel of her soft caress across the back of my swollen elbow. The look of longing fulfillment, begging for me to keep going and stop at the same time, as if to say, “that’s enough cayenne, your going ruin the taste.”. The wink in her good eye just before she ripped that broccoli fart and held my head under the sheets. NO! I do not want to dwell on those painful yet, beautiful memories. I want to celebrate. I want you to celebrate with me. I want us all to celebrate the passing of Mrs. “sugartits” Peel. I want us all to party. I want us to party our asses off.  It’s how she would have wanted it. It’s how she would have done it. And, it’s how she left us.”

“That stupid, brain-dead, t-shirt full of titties touched the 3rd rail at an all night kegger with the fellas from SETI. It was Bang An Alien Night and ‘tits offered to play ET for everyone. Scoring a few hits of Ecstasy, 11 to be exact, ‘tits chased it with a bottle of Ancient Age and a six-pack of Schlitz Malt Liquor Bulls. 32 of the 38 men present succumbed to her wishes to be “probed and examined like a Vulcan” and she was hanging in there until the rocket surgeon doing experimental gene sequencing on his own unit split her like a coconut with his Saturn V rocket. It is said that Mrs. Peel’s last words were, “is that all you got you mmpfffmmpphh…..

“Alrighty then.. I won’t go on with anymore of the letter because its just more of the same squishy, cute love words stolen from the heart of Mr. Peel. Mr. Peel, could you please see me after the service? Could someone please get him some coffee?”

“Dave in Texas’ son wanted to contribute to the service as well – please sing along with JaQuanzi in Texas as he shares his version of Omazing Grace as we close, followed by the Hostage Wimmens Auxilary’s tribute video they made on Galveston’s East Beach right after their annual, “Let’s All Trade Panties and Dance” weekend together.”

“I think that’s enough for today’s service. Mr. Peel is already canoodling with Roamy on the second row and I can see that Rosetta and MJ are shooting spit wads into the older ladies hats, soooo…  Won’t you all please join the family in our recently renovated cafeteria/skating rink for some delightful trash can punch and deviled eggs kindly donated by the family of Ms. Pajama Momma where we will enjoy a slide show presentation from Mrs. Peels website as well as a few quick cameraphone videos offered to us by the boys from SETI!  I call dibs on front row..!”