Archive for September 2009

Yom Kipper Foot In Mouth Disease & Coming Soon

September 29, 2009

Dear Baldy,

Don’t sweat it that your Jewish fans took your “Happy Yom Kipper” greetings so badly.  I’m Jewish, I knew what you meant even if they didn’t. You meant well.  Unforch psychos cannot handle imperfections, mistakes or blemishes in their sacred totem, which is what you are to them. Not a flesh and blood guy that farts, likes boobies, picks his nose or does any other human activity. You are a Demi God to them. Either get used to it or go out of your way to piss them all off and run them away. I’m voting for option two because it would earn you some normal people as fans.

Be thankful this idiot is not your fan. Makes me feel almost sorry for Adam Lambert. He’s rapidly discovering how crazy his fans are too. They make Ruthie Sloane look almost sane with her fuc bunny ears and getting her six year old to hold up an obscene sign at your concert. She ain’t got nothing on Dubai chick. Dubai chick is single handedly setting back womens rights to the 1950s.

Attention Stalkers & Fuc Bunnies: I will be soon attending a David Cook show in my town armed with a video camera and a professional still camera set up. Smile, you’ll be on Candid Fucking Camera. Be sure to line up for days in advance and watch out for a goth chick wearing an Idletard t-shirt (me).

Blonde Stalkers Have More Fun?

September 20, 2009

Dearest Baldy,

I have noticed in all the random photos in the last few weeks since you’re rumored to be boffing blonde Hooters waitresses that the frauffalo have been dying their hair blonde. Frumpy fraus featuring coifs in colors rarely seen in the natural, from almost Albinist white blonde to fake tarnish coin gold to plastic Barbie overprocessed yellow. I think they’re figuring if it’s blondes you screw then they have a chance. They don’t get it that it’s going to take a lot more than a change in hair color to unzip your Levis, like perhaps getting a time machine and a new body and face and a personality.

I think you should have fun with this delusion of theirs. Let them see you making out with redheads one month, another month with girls wearing pink or turquoise hair, perhaps the following month with bald girls. Let’s see just how quickly they all follow suit like some demented pack of lemmings.  I can hear the fried hair follicles crying pain right now…

Meats & Greeds Part Deaux

September 17, 2009

Dear David, your crazy buffalo-sized tards are losing their shit over the suggestion I made that all meet & greets should be ended and why. I find it amusing that they aren’t upset I hinted your were balding, that you’re a kareoke singer as best, that you shouldn’t encourage them on twitter-twatter, that it’s a-okay and normal to be yourself and fuck as many Hooters girls as Ron Jeremy on Viagra.

Why are the M&G’s so front and center important to the frauffalo? Because they get to inflict themselves on you? Are they thinking some of your kareoko glitter specshull might rub off on them? So they can load you down with things for your dog, ugly scrapbooks and dolls and teddy bears?

I don’t get the why of the M&Gs. In the real world people go to concerts by the artists they enjoy, arriving shortly before the show instead of days before, actually enjoy the show and listen to the music instead of trying to gain the headliners attention, interrupt the show and deliberately piss off all the ‘normal’ people around them by their pushy classless ways. People leave after the show is over, they dont’ hang around trying to meet the artists. But then again, it’s probably been soooooooooooo long since any of them have been to a show before starting to tard over Baldy that you don’t realize what concert ettiquette actually is.

Baldy you owe them  nothing more at your shows than about an hour of music. That’s all.

Regular Guy-itis?

September 15, 2009

Idoltard has an interesting set of rants by your fans posted right now, David – Jealous Bitches don’t want you to get laid. They think you should be all sunshine and puppies, the 2nd coming of Our Lord Jesus Christ commingled with Elvis, Mother Theresa, The Pope and Pat Boone. According to them you’re not supposed to belch, fart, shit, piss, fuck, look at porn, wear t-shirts with lewd pictures on them,  lust for blondes with big boobs, mastur-you-know-what, be impure in any way. They want you to be a Ken Doll, emasculated and pure, sealed behind plastic for an eternity, plastic grin etched in place with a smooth sexless crotch. Everyone but the Fuc Bunnies. The Fuc Bunnies want you to fuck but to fuck only them.

So why are they in such a tissy with their size 4X granny panties up around their heads? Because you invited Hooters waitresses to your Montana concerts and you might have fucked one or two of them. In Cook Fantard world apparently Hooters waitresses are the devil incarnate when they’re not bringing you huge assed platters of fried pickles and wings. Evil sucubusses!

Those jealous bitches are just upset it wasn’t them.  They’ve built you so far up on this impossible pedestal that any regular guy behavior noted in public is going to have this cataclismic effect as if it was something as devastating as 9/11. I don’t get the angst, it’s not like you went out and picked up a flock of crackwhores crawling with cooties and banged them on stage for the tards to see.  You invites some nice Hooters ladies out to see you play. And who could blame you, easy on the eyes compared to the tards and I’ve never seen one that wasn’t very nice and pleasant indeed.

I hope you did fuck ALL the Hooters waitresses in Montana! Cut a slice, go for it!

And to reinterate again these are the steps you need to take to free yourself from the tards.

1. Dump the AI management.

2. Stop the Meet & Greats

3. Develop your own style and music instead of copying others

and mostly

4. Be yourself!! Let out the regular guy..

Comb The Rug, Dude!

September 12, 2009

Dear David,

So I see you’ve issued masturbatory fodder for the fraus  by posting a photo of yourself dressed in a suit and the resequite black shirt rebel combination onto twitter. Somewhere in the distance I hear a fleet of printers churning out that image while batteries are being changed in vibrators. Welcome to hell.

Here Comes The Bride Big, Fat & Wide

September 12, 2009

David, David, David, so you twattered that you’re going to be the best man at your best friend’s wedding this weekend?  Not a smart move, cookie. Now I wonder how many of the Svaginas and pals will crash the wedding for a shot at you. Hope there’s security at the wedding.

If I was the bride and a bunch of screaming fatties showed up to paw the best man I’d be nuclear warhead level pissed off.

Hope your guitarist doesn’t drink all the wedding booze.


September 11, 2009

So the great Baldini is on his West Coast leg of the tour that never ends right now. He’s so glad you could attend, come inside, come inside. Performing on stool there’s a sight to make you drool, seven virgins and a … whoops, the thought of Baldy playing at the Fillmore sends me back to the early seventies when Rock and Roll was serious business, not owned, marketed and manipulated by Co’cola and GM via dreck like American Idol.

David, you must be hella bored out there on the road because you’ve taken to stirring up the frau pot by doing twitter chats every afternoon. You’ve been twittering the twats. Stirring them all up like someone poking a big spoon into the hornet’s nest. I can imagine granny vibrators firing up in the hours afterwards as hordes masturbate over the thought that they were talking to you, to YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!……..eleventyyy111!!!!

I know you think you’re being a ‘nice guy’ but being nice is highly overrated. What you’re doing is chumming the waters of insanity as surely as some drunken fisherman danging bits of raw chicken carcases thinking he’s attracting fish when in reality there are baracudas and sharks just below the surface.  This is come back to bit you in the ass hard at some point.

Why do I get the feeling you were there clutching and squeezing your rubber chicken from ‘A Ficus Flows Between Us’ between all those idiotic mundane questions?

Wish you would have answered Idletard’s query about the Tard Strong Idletard bracelet that was handed to you last month. We know you have it.