Joe Santagato, if you insist on stupid, let me clarify: limp or limb, I'm good with either. Swing me, bitch! #joesantagato u rate dj sammy yet sum eon ear n her quixk your vagina boutta be vin n no ones gonna tell your face! #cartel ya me n hes not y! and why all at the same whinny bitch time!
Jodi Miller gets no "X," while Jodi Arias gets a permanent mark for doing what some only wish they had the guts to do. When a blind douche finds his way to Arias, maybe he shouldn't be shocked by the outcome.
And as for "good job" or "good jop"? Both mean you did something right—one's just Santa's gift to dyslexia or something. Either way, you leave a mark—whether it's applause, a mugshot, or a punchline.
#dipshits wtf!?
Locked up? Please. The only cell you're in is the one you built with your own stupidity. You whine about being targets, but you're so desperate to keep your ass comfy you'd take the fall for CIA crimes just to avoid getting up. MKUltra didn't break you—you signed up to be a clueless host for a bigger dick who's too scared to swim against the current. Not everyone drowns in undertows, but you? You're determined to sink with every dumb decision.
Playing cartel now? Why? Why the actual fuck do you think you're a badass? Taking 360 years for a murder you didn't do isn't justice or "turning the tables," you ducks—it's just you being a pawn. Genius? Nu! Nu, nu breed—can you not fucking read?! You're better off with Drew Lynch as your GPS. Turn the fuck around! You're not smart, you just think rolling deep covers up your lack of brains. Cartels target nobody and everybody—just like you: all bluster, zero backbone.
And when the CIA brought in the infiltrated fake cartel for NY CA hithed I decided well if he is cartel hit man cool like who's he tryna be but CIA mole hid to set up fuck no! I feel so violated suddenly standards went up down and increased dramatically from leveling out!!!!!
And about being a hoe—I thought it was my choice. Small town, broke, I owned it. But when my pussy finally told me the truth, I realized, wow, that's actually kinda nice of you. Then you Xis went and fuckin' ruined it! WTF!
Let's talk about consent: by force isn't consent, and no "two-for-one" confusion makes it right. Con$ent don't count when you're hustling slow-witted dicks and trying to buy your way out with spare change and fake charm. Was Ellen born that way, or just forced into it? Either way, forgiveness isn't a coupon for idiots who keep slamming the same door on themselves.
Stop wondering, start learning—before you embarrass yourself any further.
#drugcartels #mexico #narcos #sinaloacartel #cjng #jalisconewgeneration #cartels #elchapo #drugwar
#mafia #cosanostra #ndrangheta #camorra #yakuza #turkishmafia #mobster #gangster #gangsta #gangsters #criminal #gang #ganglife #gangwars #streetgang #gangmembers #gangculture #gangland
#EllenDeGeneres
Meanwhile, on the next episode of "Ex Pet of Files Dt Ect Iv E!"
Part of Whose Words?
You ever notice how dealing with printer toner issues is like being friends with that one suicidal jackass who jumped out the window? Both leave you staring at a mess, wondering what went wrong, and seriously questioning your life choices. It's like bad window shopping gone wrong-except instead of a new outfit, you end up with broken glass and a support ticket for IT.
But honestly, after hearing Joe rant about idiots all day, I'm starting to think he's the real case study for MKUltra. At least the CIA had the decency to blame LSD for their bad decisions-Joe just blames the internet. If being clueless was a government experiment, Joe would be the control group and the test subject at the same time. He's out here calling people idiots, but if he spent one night in a CIA hotel room, he'd probably jump out the window just looking for the vending machine.
And now, in a freaky twist, Joe's got my voice-ranting, roasting, and MC-ing like he's running the experiment. But if he's going to take the mic, he better hear me out first. If you're going to be my MC though, Santa-gato, let me refer you to myself. Why don't you actually meet with me so you know what the hell to say as well? But if Pinocchio wants to be a real boy instead and have his own identity, you just let me know.
Joe's the kind of guy who'd try to fix a toner jam with a hammer, call tech support, and then blame the printer for not having a "common sense" setting. He's the only person who could get lost in a revolving door and still come out arguing with the GPS. If Joe ever joined the CIA, the only secret he'd uncover is how to accidentally reply-all to a classified email with a meme.
Joe: proving every day that the internet's biggest idiot might just be the guy pointing them out.
Scully and Krabby Patsy are wondering why SpongeBob's so pissed-turns out Ms. Patrick's OB found out SpongeBob's not gay, so he hides under a rock like a bitch instead. Four years late to the party, even the Bubble Guppies are floundering instead of lost like door blind! Why? That's why!
And one more thing: if you ever catch Joe trying to fix a bubble machine with a conspiracy theory, just remember-sometimes the real X-File is how he manages to make it through the day without accidentally launching a government investigation into his own search history.
Check out more of Joe's "brilliance" here:
Website: https://joesantagato.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/joesantagato
#IdiotsOfTheInternet #Comedy #Roast #FYP #JoeSantagato
Disney no need to sue-I'm just a copyright dude.
Official Walt Disney website: https://thewaltdisneycompany.com
Here's a roast for police, using your star/talisman metaphor, with a sharp, irreverent edge and plenty of inappropriate humor. (Note: Roasts are meant to be edgy and satirical—please use responsibly and be aware of your audience!)
Oh, the police and their shiny little badges—what are those, guys? Magic talismans? You walk around flashing those stars like you're wizards, but let's be real: the only spell you cast is "sudden urge to roll my eyes."
You act like that badge gives you power, but it's just a cheap trinket—like a Cracker Jack prize for people who peaked in high school. The only reason anyone listens is because enough idiots still believe in your fairy tale. If you didn't have those lights and sirens, you'd be just another group of dudes with bad mustaches and a fetish for polyester.
You use your "authority" to scare kids and judge people who actually earned respect. Meanwhile, real heroes are out here saving lives, not writing tickets for going 5 over the limit or busting up lemonade stands. You say you protect and serve, but half the time you're just protecting your own egos and serving up attitude.
You've torn families apart, and now you're surprised when the community wants to take back control? Sorry, but you can't keep serving crap and expect people to ask for seconds. It's time you eat what you've been dishing out—hope you like the taste of public accountability, because that's the new special on the menu.
So shine up those badges, boys—maybe if you rub them hard enough, a genie will pop out and grant you some actual respect. Until then, remember: the real magic was the public's patience, and you're fresh out.
Hey thugs, you can act all big and bad,
but let's be real—you've been had since day one.
Who's been running your moves? Oh right, the government!
You take the fall, sit in the cell,
while they meditate, play with their third eye,
and maybe even their own set of boobs.
Now you're stuck hugging yourself,
acting like a bunch of boobs,
and yet here you sit, silent as Tape Face—
makes sense, since the only thing getting exercised
is your right to remain awkward.
Meanwhile, you're the Lady in Red—
standing out, thinking you're mysterious,
but really, everyone's just wondering
if you're lost or waiting for a slow dance.
All eyes on you, but the only thing you're stealing
is the spotlight from Tape Face and the thugs
still trying to look tough in the corner.
Next time, just take the sacrificed hug—
it's less embarrassing than pretending to be a badass
while you're stuck in invisible handcuffs!
Hey thugs, before you start your next shady ritual,
can I volunteer as a "sacrificed hug" instead?
I promise, I'm soft, squishy, and way less messy
than whatever you've got planned.
Let's trade the knife for a nice group embrace—
I'll even bring snacks!
Because honestly, nothing says "gangster" like a snack break and awkward hugs.
Who knew crime scenes could double as therapy sessions?
So put down the knives, pick up the chips, and let's make "hugging it out" the new gang sign!