America, Fuck Yeah!

Holy fucking shit... Holy motherfucking shit... Holy Allah-damn motherfucking cock sucking shit... Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, Christians and catamites, no longer will the US of A remain a humble bystander to the world's game. No more will highbrow Europeans look down on our melting pot from their inglorious pseudo-thrones and chortle. I, I'm at a loss for words............................................................ CHYEAH!!!!

What? Poliwhirl is evolving?

Today began the same as any other; with the gentle sounds of lawnmowers bringing me to consciousness at around noon, the sweltering heat of the sun plastering me to my bed sheets, and my morning erection staring me in the face. This day, however, was not to be the same as the others I had enjoyed during these few days of summer as a high school graduate. No, today had been predetermined by the great Allah himself to be a day of greatness, of distinction, and full of absolute and utter win.

My tale begins several months ago, on an outing with Turbo that ended with the purchasing of Pokemon Crystal. This may seem curious, however, about the time of April, senior-itis had a firm grasp on my being and seeing as I was not going to bother myself with homework any longer, I thought, "eh, why not?" As I brushed the dust, cobwebs, and decaying remnants of ancestors-past, off of my pink game boy advance, a rush of childhood memories overtook me and flung me to the ground, almost as if I were being attacked by the cyndaquil I had just selected as my companion. The next few weeks witnessed a religious-like commitment to raising and training my pokemon as I attempted, for the second time in my life, to catch em all. Tragically, my previous attempt ended bitterly as I, a foolish young boy, accidentally saved over my game of well over 9000 hours. Shutting out my earlier heartbreak, I again trekked the various routes and towns of Johto, aided by my ruthless poke-faction. Patrons of chyeah, let me tell you, there was not a trainer in the poke-world that could have touched my indomitable following of pokemon, however, there remained one issue that seemed to draw from my group's authority-- my poliwhirl. While every other pokemon of mine was at its evolutionary peak, poliwhirl refused to comply, and thus, stuck out as a weak link. Despite my efforts, it seemed I was doomed to mediocrity, until it was revealed unto me by Allah, taking the form of a pink faced poke-prophet, that I was in need of a water stone. Honestly, this angered me to no end--what moronic infidel decided that a creature as common as a polywag would require a fucking rock to force it to evolve? My anger was short lived, however, as I quickly acquired one, and, as of this morning, I, the Arabian Knight, became the proud trainer of a Poliwrath. Suck it.

Chelsea Chelsea

Before I even begin this entry I would like to first state the fact that this post, as of today, will be 16 days late, however, seeing as Rod-Man felt the need to post about HIS Lakers claiming their fifteenth NBA Finals title, I decided that it would be in the best interest of all those who chyeah to take the opportunity to delve into the most noble of sports, futbol, and the noblest of futbol clubs, Chelsea FC. For however few of you who hold the decency to watch this most glorious of games, I can only pray that you have not fallen victim to the disgusting bandwagon that is Manchester United. Much like the Lakers, Man U is the poster team of the English Premier League and at every match, spectators and listeners alike are given the privilege of hearing every commentator and sports critic gleefully jump on the dick of one star player, without whom, the team would simply not exist. Now, I applaud any player of any sport who is able to attain such status, as I will admit to it requiring a decent level of skill, however, my commendation is bitter and sarcastic; be it Kobe Bryant or Cristiano Ronaldo. On a jolly side note, the aforementioned Cristiano Ronaldo has, in fact, been recently traded to La Liga's Real Madrid, which may finally pull the Portuguese footballer's dick out of Tommy Smyth's mouth.

Now, all digressions aside, it will be my pleasure to relate to you, fellow followers of chyeah, that Chelsea FC, the big blues, as of sixteen days ago, claimed the FA Cup trophy 2-1 against Everton FC. Despite an early shocker in the form of Louis Saha's strike in the twenty-fifth second, the Blues asserted their utter dominance as famed striker Didier Drogba equalized in the twenty-first minute, leaving it to arguably the most talented midfielder in England, Frank Lampard, to secure the match with a blazer of a left footed shot, ripped past America's own, Tim Howard. News of Chelsea's win held a special sentimentality for fans of the club as it came only twenty-four days after the tie with Barcelona, handed to the Spaniards by Norweigen referee Tom Henning Ovrebo-- a man so incredibly ill-advised, inattentive, miserable, and utterly worthless that I, myself, feel ashamed to have brought his name to Chyeah-- destroying hopes of a rematch between Chelsea and Manchester United. Manchester United, who bagged the easier of the semi-final paths against Arsenal, endured, only to suffer an embarrassing 2-0 loss to Barcelona, and, soon after, a tremendous upset loss to Everton in the FA Cup semi finals. So, as I bring this post to its denouement, I can only hope that you, the humble reader and disciple of Chyeah, have ascertained the moral of the story: that though bandwagon teams such as Manchester United and the LA Lakers may get their fair share of victories, as they bask in their fleeting glory, they only become more susceptible to the strike from the underdog, or, in laymens terms, the bigger they are, the harder we chyeah! when their shit gets fucked.

Brake Free Zone

Followers of chyeah, yesterday, something wondrous happened. However, in order for me to relay this fantastic tale of wonder and utter amazement, i must first tell you a story...

Once upon a time in 1939, General Motors introduced the Hydra-Matic automatic transmission. This amazing new technology utilized hydraulic coupling in what the Chrysler corporation coined, "Fluid Drive," and, more importantly, effectively destroyed the ability to drive of a majority of the American people. I say American because overseas, where intelligence is much more abundant, manual transmission is met with much higher popularity (I say intelligence is more abundant overseas simply because of the aforementioned reason). In fact, 27 countries recognize the the dumbing property of automatic transmission and only issue half-licenses to those imbecilic enough to drive automatic. For those of you who may view my rant on the inferiority of automatic transmissions as random or even absurd, fuck you, as I'm sure that it only seems this way because of your crippling stupidity brought on by your continued use of automatic vehicles.

Well, now that the preface to this tale of wonder has reached its conclusion, I can now relate exactly what occurred at around 10:32 p.m. on June the thirteenth of the sixth month of this two-thousand-and-ninth year. Last night, I was commissioned to drive Turbo back home after a slew of graduation parties that left both him and myself saying chyeah! On this journey, which encompassed numerous red lights, moronic drivers in my way, and a distance of 3.9 miles, I not once touched my brakes. Yes, yes, it was quite a feat, and one that could never be accomplished without the aid of a manual transmission, both because I downshifted the entire way and because had I been driving an automatic vehicle, I simply would not have had the brainpower to even think of attempting to accomplish such a tremendous deed.

As you sit in awe at my amazing adventure (or in a state of witless comatose brought on by your automatic transmission), I shall leave you with this: though your I.Q. level may reach into the negative integers, should you continue to follow chyeah and all things chyeah, the sin of automatic transmission can be forgiven, and always remember, CHYEAH! Also, '09 Bitches!

Chyeah to the Infidels!

Greetings followers of Allah and infidels alike! I am the Arabian Knight; the silent stalker of Babylon and sleuth of all things chyeah! I should first like to offer my apologies for the tardiness of my introduction, although should it have angered any infidelic minions, I would like to issue a heartfelt and resounding CHYEAH! Praise be to Allah and to all those who hold chyeah in their souls, however rotten and begrimed with the false hopes instilled by your blasphemic country! It will be my privelage, nay, my grossly indecent pleasure, to offer my divinely inspired assesments on all things worthy of chyeah, be it the latest technological breakthrough or simply a fantastic pair of titties. So, as I bring this introduction to its culmination, rest assured that Allah will smile fondly upon those who endure for the purpose of chyeah! Chyeah!