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The Ren Fest always sounds like a good idea, until you get to one. It’s like every person you’ve ever not wanted to be seen with displaying the reasons you wouldn’t want to be seen with them, and charging you money to see it.

The only place you’ll meet a bigger loser then a Ren Fest is a 7-11 parking lot at about 3:00am. But at least that gut was in a band. You know who you are.

Anyway, this guy feels about the same, except he’s a little too upset at the lack of “authenticity”, as if a little historical authenticity would change the fact that the average Ren Fest is just a gathering place for college dropouts and the Starbuck’s baristas that love them. Enjoy:

I promise to put some wrestling (or breasts) up tomorrow.

This picture of a clearly high hack named Bill Maher, who claims to be a political pundit but is actually a just a cock, is circulating on the Internet. As you can can see he’s wearing a Steve Irwin costume, and the smug expression of a degenerate Baby Boomer who’s finally found a way to shock young people that doesn’t involve soliciting them for sex on MySpace.

He’s a clever man.

He’s cleverly found a way to hurt the feelings of two young children who lost their father in a tragic accident. He’s cleverly found a way rub salt in the wound of a widow, to show the world how “edgy” he is. “Look at me, I’m the G.G. Allin of cable infotainment” this costume cries out. And like G.G., Bill Maher is raping unsuspecting bystanders for publicity.

The Irwin family’s pain, to this self-important celebrity ball licker, is nothing more than comedy gold. The tragic death of a beloved husband and father is fodder for crass publicity seeking of the kind usually engaged in by the Westboro Baptist hate cult, who share Maher’s sense of whimsy when it comes to desecrating the memory of the dead.

When Maher dies, which judging by his age and the quantities of alcohol and/or drugs he must ingest to make his head look like a sweaty bewigged turnip as it does in the above photo will be fairly soon, I think I’ll wear a Bill Maher costume. I’ll have white powder smeared under my nose, and wander around telling everyone how much more intelligent and hip I am than they are, except when I run into Ben Afflieck who I’ll ask to comment on important foreign policy issues. Then I’ll nod sagely in agreement even though everything Affleck will say will be retarded. Then I’ll praise his work in Phantoms.

Better yet I’m going to find a group of like minded people, and to celebrate Maher’s descent into Hell, where he’ll no doubt be seated between Ted Bundy and Phantoms, I’m going to gather together these like minded people to take dumps on Maher’s grave. It will be poetic justice, for just as Maher is shitting on on Steve Irwin’s grave in a metaphorical sense, we shall shit on Maher’s in a defiant act of protest.

I need one thousand volunteers, one thousand men and women who will stand, nay squat, with me to show these sheltered Hollywood whores that decent people have had enough! Who’s with me? Sign up and take part in the greatest protest to ever be held!