"ANYONE WHO WEARS A MASK IN ESCAMBIA COUNTY IS A PUSSY!"

I am very proud that the board did not capitulate to the lobbying from the communist side of this national controversy. Another meeting finished without a mandatory mask law. We will not meet again for another two weeks. If our current trends continue, our numbers will be looking great and that will take a lot of wind out of their sails....(Note: Who's fucking sails, Popeye?)....Beware a shocking headline from the PNJ with a new “spike” that is actually based on medical facts and not the bullshit that I pump out on social media on a daily basis. - The Commissar of Perdido Key

I wanted to show some of the comments and support that I received from anti-mask conspiracy freaks, Trumpers, MAGAs and overall retards who don't even live in Florida and who responded to my email that had everyone on the BOCC whining like a bunch of bitches. Thank you all! -CPK

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Being a sailor I always get photos from women on my Facebook page wanting sexy time with me but this photo tugged at my heartstrings. Pictured is an exotic dancer who wears a mask that is not just worthless but sexy. That's the Trump way!

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I had to Google these "musical" acts to find out who this contributor was talking about. I'm more of a Bing Crosby fan even though he was a secret raging boozehound who abused his kids to the point of suicide! 

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Feel free to contact my office for this get out of jail free card.

သရော်စာ

sarawhcar

I'M NOT GONNA WEAR A CONDOM ON MY HEAD IN ESCAMBIA COUNTY!

The Escambia County "Don't Be A Pussy And Wear A Mask" mandate proposed by the Commissar of Perido Key and thousands of other people who don't even fucking live in the state has apparently scared the BOCC shitless and they won't even vote on it tomorrow.

I refuse to wear a mask! It's like wearing a condom on your face and condoms are against the teachings of THE Donald Trump, MAGA, Walmart, The Navy Bluejackets Manual, and The Bible (It's in there somewhere for you heathens to search for). - Commissar of Perdido Key

Commissioner Jeff Bergosh said his emails have been overwhelmed by people writing about the mask issue, but he also questioned the veracity of emails after...

...Commissioner Doug Underhill put out a call in a national anti-mask social media group last week.

"It's created a lot of difficulty for my aide, Debbie and I, because we pride ourselves on returning every email," Bergosh said. "We've returned literally hundreds of emails. Now, we don't know who our constituents are, and who are folks from out of town who may be hyper-partisan on this issue."

- Pensacola News Journal

The Commissar hails this win as greater a victory than "When we whipped the asses of the Japanese at Pearl Harbor."

"First of all I would like to dedicate this victory to all my constituents who stood by me in this battle. Even though businesses were pissing all over your civil liberties by making you WEAR A MASK you followed my word so we together could squash this nefarious plot being hatched against us. GO MAGA!" 👌

  

Here are some of my personal reasons why I refuse to wear a mask - CPK 👑

1. Hang a toothpick from my lip. I’m not sure why this is a tough-guy thing, but it is. Kind of like how I can understand why I don’t need to wear a mask, but can’t explain it without getting all pissed off. Especially not to you, Maskhole.

2. Grit my teeth to show that I’m not exactly happy with how close you’re getting to my PT Cruiser. That’s right, the one with a Harley-Davidson sticker. The only souls who can lay hands on this throbbing hunk of American muscle and live to talk about it are me, myself, and the guy at Jiffy Lube who changes the oil for me—so back off, buddy. Or I’ll breathe.

3. Smoke big-ass cigars. Not only does it look boss as hell, it keeps me from eating too much candy. Let’s just say that I’ve earned a reputation for having a sweet tooth, which is why the fellas call me Sweetie. It’s one of those tough-guy nicknames that’s ironic, because I’m anything but sweet. Trust me. I'm a sailor.

4. Smooch bodacious babes. Tattooed  tourist hotties who have piercings and hair so red you almost forget that the smoke is coming from my stogie and not their scalps. I’m talking perfect tens, and they’d kill for a night with a sailor like me. My Commissar Facebook page is full of them and they click “like” on all the comments that I leave on their pics.

5. Donald Trump told me not to wear a mask.

풍자

pungja

JEFFREY EPSTEIN STATUE TO BE ERECTED IN PENSACOLA DURING THE LABOR DAY TRUMP BOAT PARADE!

DEDICATED TO HOT KARL ZIMMLER

May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face

________

She wasn't a MILF, a Cougar, more like a Sabre Tooth Tiger, but holy shit she was in good shape for her age. A little rugged looking but still attractive.

I had been downtown Pensacola at World Of Beers when I met Rhonda, a former old school Roller Derby star who used to play for the San Francisco Bay Bombers and was retired in Gulf Breeze. She kinda looked like Holly the HR rep in The Office.

One India Pale Ale led to another which led to smoking a couple of joints of B.C. Thunderfuck in the parking lot followed by heading back to Perdido Key for a dusk to dawn marathon sex-a-thon romp powered by Rhonda's ample supply of Bolivian marching powder.

When I finally regained consciousness it was already 1130. We both had "slept" through my alarm and I realized with a jolt that I was going to miss seeing Hot Karl off at the airport.

First, I called Luther Heggs who was driving Karl to the airport since Karl had been hiding out at his place. No answer after several attempts.

That's when it started getting weird. I tried Hot Karl's number and someone else answered. A man's voice. I hung up and tried again. Man answered again and I hung up. The next time the phone was answered with, "Who the fuck is this?"

I was using a burner phone so I pulled the SIM card and flushed it down the toilet and busted the phone into pieces.

By then, Rhonda was half dressed and drinking an espresso so I told her I had to drop her off at her car and go check on someone. She power slammed her espresso down like a longshoreman, grabbed her clothes, and walked out to my car in her bra and panties like she did it ever morning. Perdido Key is so weird and freaky with tourists that no one said a goddamn thing except for one old bastard...obviously an old Roller Derby fan... that ran up and asked for her autograph.

When I walked into Luther's apartment it looked like a scene from Leaving Las Vegas...

...and his suitcase looked it was a movie prop for Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

One suitcase was full of clothes that looked like he could just as well have donated  to the Waterfront Mission...and the other was packed with bags of weed, bottles of narcotics and amphetamines, sheets of blotter acid and other psychedelics, nitrous poppers, and what looked like a kilo of cocaine. Four paper grocery bags held a gallon of vodka each.

"What the fuck, Luther? The cops bust in here we're both going straight to getting cornholed at Raiford State Prison."

He glanced over at me frantically. "I'm leaving town for good, Goat!"

"What the hell is going on? Where's Hot Karl?"

"When I took him to the airport a white van cut me off, these goons in black camos jumped out and sprayed me right in the fucking face with mace while they pulled Hot Karl out and beat the shit out of him with batons. They threw him in the van and took off and left me lying there blind as a goddamn bat on that hot ass pavement! While I was lying there a airport security guard came up and wrote me a ticket for being in the loading  zone too long. That cocksucker!"

I was thinking just how fortunate I was that my drug and booze induced state had prevented me from waking up on time.

"Was that asshole with the "Cornholing For Jesus" shirt with them?"

He turned around from his suitcase and looked at me with the weirdest expression on his face. "No. But I swear to God almighty that G. Gordon Liddy was driving."

"G. Gordon Liddy? Have you gone off your nut?"

"I swear, it looked just like him. When was the last time you talked to Karl?"

"Just yesterday morning. Right in this room. You were stone cold passed out in the back."

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 "Here's my passport photo. My contact is doing a rush job. It should be ready by this afternoon." Hot Karl Zimmler... 

...slid the photo across the table for me to examine.

"That trip to Great Clips did you wonders."

"I clean up good when I want to." 

"It was stealing the box from the White House that was going to the Commissar, wasn't it? That's what drew in the Feds!...

...That personally autographed by Trump shit that was going to be the grand prize at the Labor Day Trump Boat Parade."

"No. But they are righteously pissed about that. Actually, it happened when I was listening to Barr order the Commissar that he was going to have to slip Iron Mike Tyson a mickey before the Jones fight before it got moved back to California...I stayed on the line because the Commissar didn't hang up."

"What the hell was he doing?"

Hot Karl laughed maniacally, "He just put his phone down and started sobbing like a prom queen who lost her virginity to a guy with the Clap named Ray Bob and the phone call she just got came from her doctor who said she was pregnant."

"But curiosity gets turpentine shot in the cat's ass. Some software detected another line when I didn't disconnect quick enough. My computer set off a warning that I was being tracked but it was too fucking late. They traced that fucker in seconds. I threw all my computer gear in the trunk and grabbed my go bag. I tossed all the computer shit off of the Bill Barr Bridge. I'll be out of the country by tomorrow."

"You mean the Barrs Bridge."

"Not anymore. The County is going to re-name it the Bill Barr Bridge. It's going to be announced the week before the OBA Trump Boat Parade They should have the work order for the signs done in 9 to 12 weeks."

He pulled out a CD and popped it in the player. "But listen to this shit. This came from the guy I was working with on this. His name is Otis...

(This is my mental image of Otis)

...Man, this dude is a straight badass hardcore motherfucker on the Dark Web. He was still monitoring after I had to go dark, and a few hours Barr called back...."

Hot Karl hit play:

Commissar: How may I help you, Mr. Barr, Sir?

BB: You lucked out, Popeye! The fight is still going to be in California so you're off the hook. I was hoping that Tyson would catch you and rip your nuts off but it was not to be.

Commissar: Mr. Barr, I would have gone out on my shield for you and the President.

BB: Can the bullshit with the Audie Murphy spiel. I have another job for you. Hopefully you won't fuck this one up like everything else.

Commissar: You've picked the right man for the job, Mr. Barr

BB: I seriously doubt that, but we think we've located the perp who stole the Trump Flotilla grand prize. His balls are...

...gonna get hooked up to a Sears Die Hard. So if he talks, you're off the hook with that major league fuck up!

Commissar: That's certainly good news, Your Majesty.

BB: I wouldn't be blowing smoke up my ass just yet. You haven't even heard what I'm going to say yet and already you're kissing my sweet nether regions.

Commissar: What is the mission, Mr. Barr? I'm reporting for duty as ordered!

BB: (muttering) Jesus Fucking Christ!... Your mission, Captain Willard, is YOU ARE going to convince the Board of County Commissioners and the city of Pensacola to place a statue with a plaque of Jeffrey Epstein in the middle of the fountain at the Palafox Pier...

...the unveiling ceremony will be held during the Trump Labor Day Boat parade and  the Master of Ceremonies will be the John "The Wadd" Holmes of politics, Matt Gaetz and his trusty sidekick, Nestor...

...now you better get your ass in gear, Bitch!

Click!!

I had a tremendous urge to get the hell out of there, so I stood up to leave. "I'll see you at the airport in the morning."

Hot Karl held out to me a white box like you would keep monogrammed handkerchiefs in. "I had my last date with Flipper last night. Would you give this to her?"

"What's in it?" I asked, eyeing the box like it was full of Ricin.

"My grandfather's silk socks that I used only with Flipper. I think she'd cherish them."

"Are you fucking crazy?"

zerafi

SWG

 

   

BREAKING NEWS: ROGER STONE IS SLATED TO BE THE GRAND MARSHALL OF THE OBA LABOR DAY TRUMP PARADE

"I'm gonna make those dirty bastards pay for jumping me at that last Trump Flotilla! Especially that fat son of a bitch wearing the "Get cornholed by Jesus shirt! Sooner or later. It's gonna be payback time."

- Hot Karl Zimmler

Hot Karl Zimmler

The local MAGA security force Captain who is suspected in the total asskickings of Hot Karl Zimmler and Luther "Scoop" Heggs.

"He's gonna wish he had never fucked with the likes of me and Hot Karl," mumbled Luther "Scoop" Heggs, who was already so shitfaced he could hardly sit up in his beach chair, "Fucking Bible thumper."

"He didn't thump your ass with a Bible, Scoop. If I recall he thumped it with Mary Trump's book."

Hot Karl, Scoop, and myself were sitting way out on Johnson Beach so no tourist could spy us drinking gin & tonics and smoking big chunks of Black Hash in a tobacco pipe. Karl looked pretty much like he always did. Luther though, still looked like a gorilla had jumped out of a dumpster and beat the shit out of him!

Local artist rendition of Luther before getting the crap pounded out of him.

 

And after (simulated).

"What scheme have you two asswipes got cooking now?"

Luther suddenly bolted to his feet and made a mad dash to the sand dunes.

"We're going to raise some hell for that Trump Boat parade on Labor Day and get some payback on these motherfuckers." I could hardly hear him over the sounds of Luther puking up his gin & tonics and whatever combination of booze and narcotics he had sucked down last night. It sounded like he was barfing up his toenails.

"Wait a second? Those Lysol sniffers are holding another one of the damn things? With Florida being one of the hardest hit states for the Corona virus?"

"Hell yes! Half the country has shit for brains and in Florida about three-quarters. The dumb fucks are sending their kids back to school in a few weeks if you need an example. But we're planning on something bigly as the fascist who has his gigantic ass parked in the White House likes to say. Something that will hit the national news, go fucking viral, Goat!"

Luther staggered back from the dunes and sat down in his chair and fired up a heater and poured a glass of hair of the dog. He smelled like a vomit factory!

Karl dug around in Luther's backpack and pulled out Scoop's mini-recorder and handed it to me. "You better wipe that fucking tape recorder down with Everclear before I touch it."

Karl poured some gin over the recorder and wiped it down with his grimy t-shirt. He hit play and handed it to me. I held it between two fingers like it was packed with C-4.

"I was hearing rumors about something big happening at this Trump Parade and I still have the taps running so I listened into a conversation with the Commissar and some higher up in the Land of the Great and Powerful Trump."

"Sound intriguing." The heat and the sight and smell of Scoop were making me queasy so I took the recorder and walked down to the surf.

🕭🕭🕭🕭 Phone ringing. "Sir, Commissar speaking, Sir!"

"My first question, Mr. Potato Head, is what the hell are you doing down there in the mosquito infested hellhole hovel that you call home? Working on your jug blowing?"

"Sir, I was preparing my daily briefing to my constituents. I have a very large following who depend upon my leadership."

"I saw it already. When are you going to stop this whiny "I'm a Libertarian" shit? Just admit you follow the marching orders of DeSantis who gets his orders from his White House Holiness. DeSantis, who by the way, better quit acting like a retard in front of the press if he knows what's good for him...

...and you need to quit putting out this drivel that no one believes anyway. Who the fuck do you think you are, Bill Nye - The Science Guy? Get your shit together! And quit quoting Fox News!"

"Sir, what seems to be the problem, Sir?"

"Quit calling me Sir. I'm not in the goddamn Navy. Call me Mr. Barr... 

...and the reason I'm calling is you were given one task and one task only and it appears you're shitting the bed on that one simple task."

"Do you mean the left turn lane controversy at the Galvez Boat ramp?" 

"What? Jesus Christ on roller skates! And I thought DeSantis was challenged. No, dumbass! Stone! You were so supposed to keep him secluded and under wraps. He's running around Perdido Key like he's Mick Jagger...who I think should be deported. Him and that goddamn Tom Petty and Neil Young. I'm getting all sorts of fucking reports about that freak parading around down there like he's the lovechild of Liberace and J. Edgar Hoover."

"I'll admit, Mr. Barr, he can be quite the rascal but I assure you everything here is shipshape! My adjutant has everything squared away."

"No, not everything is shipshape, Mr. Roberts! What about that dipshit giving that interview? That went over like a wet bean and beer shart in church!"

"On me, totally, Mr. B. I didn...."

"What in the name of hell did you call me, you backwoods turd!" He shrieked!

"I meant Mr. Barr, Sir! And Roger somehow got his hands on a phone and gave that interview without my knowledge. His personal phone was confiscated before they dropped him off here."

You could hear Barr whispering and muttering to someone in the background...the word "loser" was heavily peppered throughout the conversation.

"Mr. Barr?"

"Now you listen to me and I don't want to hear another word out of your cock holster. The Man himself wants the The Man of La Mancha to be the Grand Marshall of the Labor Day Trump Parade and it's your job to keep his scrawny naked ass under wraps until then. Do not, I repeat, do not fuck this up! Expect a package from Trump's brain dead...

...daughter for the raffle in two days. The Prez is going to "autograph" it himself and wants to Stone to present it!"

CLICK👌

"And your master plan being what?" I was sweaty, hot, stoned,and drunk and I was craving a air conditioned bar with a kindly waitress sporting big jugs and cold draft beers, so I started packing up. A little of Karl and Luther can go a long way, especially on a hot day. The combination was like the smell of a dumpster behind a strip club!

Karl looked over at Luther who was passed out cold. His head hanging all the way back and a string of thick drool ran from his mouth to the sand. He was drunk as two longshoreman and it was barely noon.

"I've got tracers set up with all major delivery services. I'll know when that package gets in the area. I'm going to steal that dildo and hold it fucking hostage. Those MAGAs want it back, they're gonna pay big dineros. I'm going to get all the major press involved."

"And when you get out of of Leavenworth you"ll have an asshole as big as a silver dollar unless they pull an Epstein on you."

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