Archive | August, 2012

The Empire of Jeff Bourbon-Cast Returns

23 Aug

Thank you all for the unexpected surge of compliments for my first podcast.  It’s been more fun than I expected, and helps to pass the time while my wife and our Master Race are out of town on vacation.   She’s been very supportive of my hobby.  As she says, “It keeps you off the streets, and it’s not like you’re going to run out of Stupid, so you might as well have an outlet.”

Love you too, baby.

I appreciate your support, and you only have yourself to blame for what happens next.


Please, sir. I want some more.


Alrighty, then…

Episode 2 – A GOP War on Women?  Bitch, Please.

As always, NSFW warning for profanity.  Do the right thing – don’t share adult entertainment with your young’uns.

It’s Here: The Inaugural Empire Of Jeff Bourbon-Cast

21 Aug

I know it’s been a long time since I posted, but I haven’t spent ALL my time fucking off, my friends.  Oh, no – I’ve been working tirelessly to bring you an even richer multimedia Empire of Jeff Newsletter experience.  And tonight, I am proud to present the first official Empire of Jeff Bourbon-Cast, recorded in Whiskey-phonic 2D sound.

If you want to bookmark my podcast page, you can find it at

WARNING:  NSFW.  There is some profanity here.  Hi, I’m Jeff.  Have we met?  Do not play this in front of your kids and come bitching to me later that the wife put you out of the house.  Click below and get your listen on.

Episode 1 – A Fistful of Rape

Don’t worry, from start to finish, it’s only about 4 minutes long.  Not trying to bore the tits off you.

Your Daily Two Minutes of Awesome

15 Aug

Via Jammie Wearing Fool,

The feel-good story of the day:

Caterer at Obama Iowa Event Wears “Government Didn’t Build My Business, I Did” T-Shirt

Ross Murty, the co-owner of the Village Corner Deli in Davenport, is a proud small-business owner who isn’t afraid to speak his mind.

Serving up pulled pork, beans and cheesy potatoes for the press at the president’s campaign event this evening, Murty wore a T-shirt that said, “Government Didn’t Build my Business, I Did.”  […]

Murty, a registered Republican, was out of town this past weekend at a Cubs game in Chicago when representatives from the president’s campaign came in and asked his business partner, Bret Dalton, a registered Democrat, if they would be interested in a catering job. Dalton accepted without running it by Murty.

This is how I imagine the conversation went when Ross Murty returned from his trip and found out his Democrat partner had booked a catering gig for the Obama campaign:

Bret Dalton[nervously wringing hands]  “Hey Ross, how was the trip?  Good, I hope?  Cool.  Umm, look, I know you weren’t here and I hope this is cool with you, but I booked the Obama campaign rally.

Look, I know how you feel and all, but it’s a really big gig, and it could bring in a lot of business for us – plus, you know how these campaigns are, right?  I mean, they’re not even haggling over price, you know?

So, like…  are you okay with it?”

Ross Murty:  “Am I okay with it?



Ha! HaHa!


*** squeeeee! squeeeeh… ***  ***cough cough cough *** ***cough***
Hah hah haaa!  aaaahhha…  uh heh!  Ooohhh, shit…
Yeah, I’m okay with it, Bret.”
How much would you be willing to bet that Bret Dalton is going to make a donation to the Romney campaign with the money he was paid by the Obama campaign?  Don’t worry, Barry.  Bret’s just redistributing the wealth like you wanted.
Friends, that’s what we call a two-fer.

I think when you spread the wealth around, it’s good for everybody… MOTHERFUCKER.


Oh, oh!

I can’t do no more!  I CAN’T DO NO MORE!

Good Night!


Speaking Out About The Need For Obama To Shut The Fuck Up

15 Aug

Via The Hostages,

A 22-minute video about the need for Obama to leak the details of our classified operations, most notably the operation that resulted in the killing of Osama Bin Laden, so he can convince Americans that he has a pair of balls.

It’s a good primer on OPSEC (OPerational SECurity), something the veterans out there understand instinctively, and yet the fucking Commander-In-Chief willingly violates to help him get re-elected.  Think about that when this fucking hack puts out her next shitty movie about the military – your President gave her classified information to make himself look good.  Information that WILL come back to haunt us later.  Information that’s already sealed the fate of the man who helped us get Bin Laden – the brave doctor President Obama sold out so he could feel like a fucking man.

Who’s going to trust us now?  You think we’re going to be able to recruit people in the Middle East to inform on their terrorist neighbors when it’s already public record that the President of the United States will betray you and leave you to die?

If you have a blog, put this video up.  Tweet it.  Link it on Facebook.  Enrage your leftard friends by asking them why it’s okay to risk the lives of our troops, intelligence officers, and their networks of assets, plus the lives of all their families – just so Chicago Jesus and his vulgar, grasping wife can continue to gorge themselves on our hard-earned tax dollars.

If they start to answer, cut them off and tell them to shut the fuck up.  Refer them to me if they have any further questions.



The Ryan Plan for Medicare, With Guest Poster Representative Paul Ryan

14 Aug
Tonight, I’ve asked Representative Paul Ryan to guest post in response to some of the vicious smears the Obama campaign has published about his so-called plan to “gut” Medicare.  Congressman, thanks for spending some time with us. 

Thanks for having me on the EoJ Newsletter, Jeff, and allowing me to explain to your reader exactly how Governor Romney and I plan to save Medicare and get America back on the path to fiscal responsibility.

Now, as you all know, there’s a lot of scare-mongering out there about how we plan to slash Medicare benefits for current retirees.

This is absolute horseshit.

The Ryan Plan to reduce the number of seniors on Medicare has nothing to do with slashing benefits.  Will there be slashing?  Oh my, yes.  See the blade, how it catches the light?  See how the light dances and laughs along its cruel edge!  See how Grandpa’s eyes shine with fear as he sees-

– where was I?  Yes.  Reducing the number of seniors on Medicare without cutting benefits.  Seems like magic, doesn’t it?  A little bit of “voodoo economics,” perhaps?

Friends, the solution is simple:  We simply need to reduce the number of seniors. Continue reading

It Was His Sacred Duty To Touch That Booty

13 Aug

Yes.  That headline was beneath me.  And yet…  here we are.


…Morris is accused of groping a woman’s buttocks outside a dressing room at a Walmart in North Lauderdale.


During questioning by law enforcement, Morris copped to grabbing the victim’s rear end and provided an explanation, of sorts, for his behavior, according to a Sheriff’s report.

Her booty looked so good,” he noted, “I just couldn’t resist touching it.”

Exit question:  Should hating the playa and not the game be classified as a hate crime?  I submit that it should.

Look, the real problem as I see it, is that bitches don’t be knowin’ how to take a compliment these days.  I mean, a fine booty is like a work of art.  Whatchyou ’bout to do?  Start arrestin’ mothafuckas for bein’ in a museum?

That brings up another point, Inner Ebonics Voice Jeff.  There does exist a certain stereotype which frankly, I find sickening.  You know the one.  In fact, though, there are many, many black men who can resist the allure of the booty’s siren song.  Honorable men.  Accomplished men.  Family men. Continue reading

I’ve Cancelled My Reservations

12 Aug

Shouldn’t you cancel yours, as well?

Mitt Romney was not my first choice for the Republican nomination.  I only started to get interested in the primaries when Rick Perry entered the race, but like my initial excitement at Teh Fred’s decision to run, the actual candidate turned out to be less exciting than the idea of the candidate.  Especially when Perry started attacking Romney from the Left, with his ignorant populist “vulture capitalism” remarks referencing Bain Capital’s practice of leveraged buyouts.  Hell, he even dragged otherwise smart people into some Occupy Wall Street-type, financially illiterate faggotry with his demonization of private equity.

And so, the field self-immolated and Romney became our nominee.  My reservations about him are now cancelled.  Because he is our only chance of beating Obama.  Continuing to bitch about his shortcomings is counter-productive and immature.  So I won’t.  The Presidency is bigger than one man, and it’s not just the candidates I’m talking about, it’s us.  If you’re still complaining about the nominee, then go vote for Obama.  Or stay home.  But if you do either of those, keep your mouth shut about it because I will fucking savage you in print.  If YOUR whiny personal preferences are more important to you than replacing the fucking disaster that currently occupies 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, do yourself a favor and stay the fuck out of my face.

I had similar reservations about Paul Ryan, who was recently announced as our Vice Presidential candidate.  Doesn’t matter what they were, not anymore.  Besides, all I have to do is ask myself, “Can you imagine picking THIS fucking retard for your running mate?”




Kinda puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?

We have our team.  OUR team.  Just because you didn’t get to pick the team, you’re not going to support them? Seriously?   Is Jeff going to have to choke a bitch?

Get the whiners below decks and crank this sumbitch up to ramming speed.  We’ve got some work to do.

Making New Friends III: Was It Something I Said?

10 Aug

I sure hope it was. For those of you who are unfamiliar with my war against the useless union fuckbags who are picketing my office building, you can read Part One here and the followup Part Two Here.

They’re gone!

The strike isn’t over – they’re still picketing in front of several buildings their company occupies in the light industrial park my office is in, but when I got back from vacation a week ago, our driveways were free of Nerds On Strike.

Now, that’s just fucked up. First of all, I had all new insults cooked up, plus there were dozens more of them that I had not yet met and insulted, individually and personally.

As you read earlier, we had steadily been ratcheting up the misery, and not just with my abusive behavior.  My boss, who owns the building, in partnership with the local police, has played the “it’s our right” game masterfully.  Yes, you have the right to be in front of the building.   No, you do not have the right to sit in the shade of the trees on our property.  Now you must stand in a five-foot wide, shadeless strip in 100+ degree heat.  And for a bunch of cubicle dwellers, that’s abject misery, homeboy.

Yet, they still appeared to be pretty game when I left.  The only thing I can think of is that MAYBE my last go-round with these jackoffs sufficiently illustrated the absurdity of what they were trying to do.   When I pulled up to the driveway, this is how our last conversation went:

Jeff:  “Hey there, Scooter!  Hot enough for ya?  HAHAHAHA!”

Picketer:  “We’re trying to-”

Jeff:  “Yeah, yeah.  I don’t give a shit.  Let me lay out for you what you’re accomplishing by standing in this driveway:  NOTHING.  See, your company leased space in this building for you to work in.  There is nobody in that space. Nobody.  There are a bunch of chairs, unassembled cubicles, desks and shit, and it is completely empty.  Nobody in your company works there yet, so by definition, EVERY SINGLE CAR that you hinder from getting into this building has NOTHING do with your labor dispute.  EVERY.  SINGLE.  CAR.   Do you know WHY that office space stays completely empty?”

Picketer:  “We’re on strike.”

Jeff:  “No, Brain.  It’s because all the people that were supposed to work in that office are standing out here on this fucking picket line!  There is no one to cross your picket line because you’re all out here!  Who are you going to call a scab?  THERE’S NO ONE IN THERE, DUMBASS.  And there’s never going to be anyone in there until this strike is over.  Chew on that, would you?”

Picketer:  “You don’t have to keep-”

Jeff:  “Fuck ooooffffff…”

I sure hope I got through to them.  It could have been my logic.  It could have been following EC’s suggestion to tie one of their union buddies to my grill.




Either way, it’s a bittersweet victory.


As Jeff sat upon his throne at his desk, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer union idiots to abuse.



Olympic Showdown: Who Is America’s Greatest Gymnast?

7 Aug

America has had its share of top gymnasts.  Tough, competitive athletes who devote their lives to excellence in their sport and bringing glory to our country.  Household names like Bart Conner, Mary Lou Retton, Dominique Dawes, Frank Kriz, and Shannon Miller.  All of these superstars can be called great, but only one can be called America’s Greatest.  From this field of champions, two have been selected to compete for the title of America’s Greatest Gymnast.

The Empire of Jeff Newsletter puts these two legends head-to-head in five separate events.

Tonight, we settle this shit for good.  Who’s it going to be? Continue reading

Memory Lane: The Empire of Jeff Weekend Style Section

4 Aug

A comment someone made to me yesterday reminded me of this story which I wrote about years ago.  It took place in the summer of 1994, when I was a Private First Class in the U.S. Army, stationed at Fort Carson, Colorado as a Mechanized Infantryman in the 4th Infantry Division.  My job at the time was as a driver on an M2A1 Bradley Fighting Vehicle.  This was my first deployment off-post to the Pinon Canyon Maneuver Site, a sprawling grassland in the southeast corner of Colorado, and one of the only places in the country where the Army could conduct battalion-level maneuvers.  Our mission was to train for another conflict in Southwest Asia, where combat vehicles spread out a couple hundred meters apart, meaning your battle formations take up miles of space.

And if there’s one thing Pinon Canyon has, it’s miles and miles of miles and miles.

It was my first big FTX (Field Training Exercise), or field problem, as we called them, as a Bradley crewmember.  Previously, I had been a “dismount.”  These are what you think of as your regular infantry footsoldiers, who ride into battle in the crew compartments of their Bradleys and then hop out to fight on foot, being supported by the massive firepower the Bradleys can bring to the fight with their TOW-2 missile launchers, M242 Bushmaster 25mm chain gun, and M240C coaxially-mounted machine gun.

They can be handy to have along in a firefight.

That’s how Mr. Bradley says, “Knock it the fuck off.”

Anyway, I wasn’t thrilled about being a driver, mostly because it involves becoming a junior mechanic, and that was not what I thought I had signed up for.  There’s always something to fix on military vehicles, and Preventive Maintenance Checks and Services (PMCS) are the bane of every soldier assigned to a vehicle crew.  B-O-R-I-N-G.  Plus, there was a bit of a  stigma attached to being a crewmember.  Sure, you got to call the poor dismounts who had to eventually get out and walk some nifty derogatory names like “crunchies” and GIBs (Guys In the Back).  But the names dismounts had for crewmembers were slightly less funny, and a lot more hurtful.

Like “Pussies.”

But as I was about to find out, military life, even for Bradley drivers, was not all work.  And sometimes, you just have to cut loose and have a little fun.  Stupid fun.

And so I present to you a little essay titled “We Were Soldiers Once…  And Dumb.”

Continue reading

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