There was an air of reluctance to continue on in James voice. He watched as Thor slammed his thundering meat tenderizer into Jerry's throat as Sarah Palin gave one last thurst of her cruise missile sized, quickly melting,  ice penis of death through his throat.

"This mortal form grows weak. I require sustenance! I SHALL PLUNDER YOUR **** OF ALL ITS RISHES, AND THUS RETURN TO ASGARD WITH YOUR HEART RIPPED OUT OF YOU, THROUGH YOUR ****!" His mighty voice roared as thunder clouds gathered high above him. His hips working furiously as thousands upon thousands of yottawatts built up inside Timmy's ****, lightning bolts of unparalleled power ripping through out his body, encasing his whole skeleton in a tunnel of electric current which fried almost every muscle in his body, splittered every bone, split every synapse, and generally gave ten swarms of lightning bugs in Africa electric hard ons.

James watched as a final thrust of both Thor and Sarah connected the screaming, raging, fried out of his **** mind circuit as it rainboomed out of every orifice in his body.

"The Socialist answer to a bad economy," The host sighed as Wharfrat sat down next to Ghost Rider, gave him props, and then listened in on the conversation. "just fork over the hard earned money of the rich and, to a lesser but still relevant degree, the middle class and share the wealth. This implies that the the economy cannot recover so therefore the rich and the middle class need to support everyone else." He took a moment to finish off his sandwhich, watched as Timmy healed up, took a few steps, then was slammed into the ground by the Hulk's rage filled dick. He was not having a good time, even though the Hulk was.

"IT HULK FISTING TIME FOR PUNY COCK PUPPET! THIS TIME, HULK USE WHOLE HAND, NOT JUST PINKY!"

"There is a difference between using a progressive 'fix'-"

"HRAUGH, HRAUGH, HRAUGH, HRAUGH-"

"DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN, MAKE HIM STOP!"

"Like unemployment insurance, to help gap that time of need versus sharing the wealth." 

"TINY COCK PUPPET NOT ENJOY THERAPUTIC HULK FISTING!? HULK USE TWO HANDS NOW!"

"NOOOOOO! MAKE THE BLEEDING STOP! I CAN TASTE THE DIRT IN HIS FINGERNAILS!"

"That implies a long term redistribution of unearned money, AKA SOCIALISM." He managed to spurt out between vomiting at the sight of the Hulk double fisting Timmy Sin's ****, and on occasion, witnessing the rock star mouth birth a fingernail clipping.

"DEAR GOD WHY!? NOW I HAVE A THROAT BABY!"

"NAME IT STEVE! NAME- HRAUGH! IT- HRAAAAUGH! STEEEEEVE!"

Wharfrat had a look of utter horror on his face. Ghost Rider's jaw simply fell off in terror, his normally bright crimson flame engulfed skull, now a flickering light blue flame. 

"Mother of god... I don't want to live on this planet anymore." He said simply. Wharfrat turned to James, trying as hard as he could not to pay attention to the Horny Green Giant now wearing Timmy on his arm like an over stretched rubber band.

"I don't blindly follow Fox, MSNBC or any media sources." something crossed his mind which shouldnt have, and he vomited geyser like streams of blood all over Ghost Rider's face, after a while, his light blue flame became a sickly green one, and he vomited a stream of condensed fire straight into wharfrats open mouth. After a moment, Wharfrat healed up, now infected with the Omegalpha virus. he shrugged and continued his statement.  "Do you really not understand why he used that analogy?  My son uses his brain better than you. He went to visit grandpa Sandusky this weekend." 

James shuddered, and then he thought up a brilliant solution, he walked over, tapped the busily thrusting hulk on the shoulder. "HULK BUSY USING TINY MAN AS COCK CLEANER! WHAT HOST WANT!?" He roared in excitement. 
"Could you guys... I don't know... Go over there behind the wood shed or something?" 
"THE PAIN'S GONE! HE STOPPED, HE FINALLY- HRAGH..." Timmy shouted in finality as his mind simply snapped from the horrors of the hulk fisting.

The Hulk, now calming down, changed into mild mannered Bruce Banner. Who now had his whole arm up to his shoulder in Timmy's ripped, inflamed, blistered, tumor ridden, tenth degree burn splotched ****.

 "The pain..." Timmy sighed in relief as his wounds began healing up, "It's- it's gone!" 

"Dear god, what did he- Oh hello! Um sure..." Bruce said still confused how he wound up in his current predicament. The brown haired man spotted a tattoo for the band My Chemical Romance. Instantly, his rage boner popped up and he went from Grey to Blood Red hulk in a matter of seconds.

"YES! I'LL TAKE THIS LITTLE BITCH BEHIND THE SHED, OUT OF SIGHT, SO THAT I MAY PROCEED TO REND HIS CHILDHOOD APART! HRAUGH! RED HULK, AWAAAAY!"
 "OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! MAKE THE PAIN STOOOO-" There was a small audible pop in Timmys neck as the Red Hulk flew into the sky, Timmy still in tow.

James, now sufficiently horrified beyond belief, silently returned to his seat with a look of utter obliteration of his confidence that disappeared when Baron Divis slapped him.

"COME OUT OF IT YOU HOUSE STEALING PRAT!" The host shook his head and continued. 
"Oh- right! Thanks, um, I know exactly why he used that analogy."
"You do? What do you mean?" Baron Divis asked in contempt as he grabbed a Mug root beer out of the ice chest.
"He thinks that I just believe whatever the media puts out." James continued, "Many people, on both the Left and Right or on the Authoritarian and Libertarian spectrum, will just believe whatever is told to them by the media instead of doing their own research."
 "Is that why Glenn Beck is as batshit crazy as he seems, because he has a steady following of just as bat **** crazy followers?" Wharfrat asked, generally interested in the down fall of Fox News.

James nodded, "If Glenn Beck says panic and buy gold, some people will do just that. It doesn't mean they should, instead they should come to their own conclusions, not those of the media or political figures." He finished up, looking a world wearier about the heavy influence of celebrity personalities telling others what to buy, how to look, and what causes they should care for.

Wharfrat finished his mug root beer. there was a moment of silence as his ocmplex, intelligent, and highly philisophical mind came up with the most universally aknowledged response. "you are so retarded. dude! how the **** you got the be leader of the **** gathering, i will neverk now. but what you just said there? you... are SO **** RETARDED!" ghost rider was getting bored of the conversation, and left after saying his good byes. he looked into the distance and spotted what he thought was a giant squid **** the moon. "james, should we be concerned about that?" the specter pointed out to the host. "nah... itll be fine." the former husband of dizzeyedup girl rpelied, fairly confident that whatever the giant squid was doing over there, it would stay that far away from him.

He turned to Wharfrat, who was in the middle of using a pair of used nipple clamps to open a jug of two thousand year old dry Whiskey. "Sorry that I know what I'm talking about and that the best you can come up with is stupid one liners, just like Ti- Where'd he go!?"

There was a moment, in which James face simply went from that of pure calm to that of violently trying to murder his own eyebrows as he remembered the Red hulk.

"You fail at-" he paused to empty the contents of his stomach onto the used nipple clamps in Wharfrats hand. "trolling Wharfrat, give it up Dudar. It WAS a cool story about two years ago!" The host paused to laugh wildly as he spotted a familiar shape falling out of the clouds as a small whine ripped form its bowls. he promptly ignored it.

Wharfrat, through his connections at his protest group FORCED INTO LOVE BY OLD MEN, decided to come clean. "I'm not even trolling anymore James." he confessed. 

"Really?" James asked, unconvinced. 

The protest member nodded. "I feel bad for you and your autistic-like ways of not understanding this. What he was saying was, that he asked you a question and you did not respond to the question, you responded about something else that, really, had nothing to do with what he wanted you to address." He gave the Baron a look that suggested he play along. Baron Divis Ion Byzero gladly accepted the role of a mentally disabled satire of James.

Wharfrat looked at Baron Divis as he would a man child, "I believe the average conversation with any other person in real life would go something like this," He cleared his throat, "Hey James, who taught you how to ride your bike, since your dad wasn't around?" He started, tapping the Baron on the shoulder.

Wharfrats partner simply hunched over and spoke in a garbled and incoherent tone. "My bike is red with pirate stickers my mommy gave me twenty five years ago, do you like my Toy Story 3 helmet?"

Wharfrat asked another question of the fake James. "James, tell me about being in denial about how much people respect you?" He held the imaginary microphone to the Barons mouth. 

Baron Divis clasped his hands together, stood up, and spun in circles while answering in the same tone.  "There is this song by Aretha Franklin named respect! She's so deep and beautifully heavy!" The two men burst into fits of laughter, with one slapping the other on the shoulder to try and calm himself down. 

James remained calm, even though he wanted to rip their eyes out through their stomach. "What you failed to grasp," He started, trying to calm himself down. Was there were two things Wharfrat. The first was that if he didn't believe my comments refuted anything I said, why revisit them?"

The man in the scraggly trench coat couldn't find a good enough answer, and simply remained silent. Baron Divis, out of spite, simply retorted "Because he wanted to be a dick?" 
Wharfrat snickered, "That'll do pig, that'll do."

the host wasnt impressed, and simply continued on.  "the second was the 'like most Cons do' comment. that was a dead give away that." 

Wharfrat and the Baron simply cocked their heads to an odd angle. "Wait... What!?"

James smiled, he had caught them off guard. "He thinks I blindly follow conservative media. Therefore, I decided to address that, since he didn't comprehend even in the slightest how my former comments refuted his posts."

The small dot in the sky was now in the slight shape of Timmy, followed by a large, copious, and frighteningly spread out cloud of ****, urine, blood and bile. James response to the two mens little skit elicited another confused reaction. 

"No, really wait... What the ****!? But of course your posts would include ten more lines of stuff, that only point zero one percent of the posters on the Gathering site actually read, James! Haven't you noticed that almost no one knows how exactly to respond to your wall of text posts. I mean, outside of you, and a few others, most of us on the Gathering forums pretty much act like a bunch of retarded neanderthals punching a talking doll! Dumb it down for us, way down! Be like me!"

The host couldn't do anything but laugh at Wharfrat's unusual style of trying to make sense. "So says aREALLY important poster from the past, who at this point in time, is pretty much irrelevant to people that post there. You are a joke Wharfrat, not even in the rankings for a promotion within YOUR OWN PROTEST GROUP."

These words seemed to cut deep into his heart. "Th-that's... That's going too far. Come on Baron... We're not needed here."

James smiled, "Now go spend some time with your son, hes probably ENJOYING the time he spends with his grandpa Sandusky. Also, you seem to read quite a few of my posts, but I guess that's not saying much since you aren't a very relevant poster now a days." He laughed proudly as Timmy slammed through the glass and obsidian topped table, shattered the top, and impaling his throat onto the supports. "Yeah... Glad to see you too Timmy. Now get the **** off my property and return in a few days when your neck heals up and I can give you a proper whooping." 

"Go Pokebaal!" Liam Neeson shouted as he turned his red baseball cap around, hardened his gaze at a level forty eight Smeargle, pulled out a gatling Pokebaal launcher and squeezed the trigger. Instantly, the Pokemon froze in terror as the small whine of the barrels caught his attention.

He had used Charm and Sleep powder on Jerry Sandusky's grand child, had pulled the little boys pant's down, but never got the chance to use Harden and Pound as several hundred thousand Pokebaals slammed into his body, the beams sucking his molecules into several different containment units at once. Liam didn't stop firing until he was out of ammo, as now the Smeargle was trapped in several Pokebaals that were inside other Pokebaals, that were in other Pokebaals.

"I caught a Smeargle, bitch! NOW WHAT!?" Ballanton shook with fear, but then pulled his own red baseball cap around, popped his collar and threw a Masterbaal at the Kraken, who for all intents and purposes, swore loudly enough to send the narrow cliff side into a fractured state. But just barely.

The red beam spewed out of the contraption and sucked the Kraken into itself like a black hole.

"You son of a bitch. GO SMEARGLE!" Liam shouted in utter frustration, "USE NEWLY GAINED **** RAPE ATTACK!"

Ballanton easily dodged the Pokemon's attack, returning the favor with a battle axe through the neck. Smeargle's head flopped on the ground, as its body ran around in circles with its neck hole spraying yellow blood all over itself. 

"I use Fury Swipes. It's super effective. Bitch." The Fusion crowed happily.

Liam simply returned the beheaded Pokemon to its new home within a home within a home. "Well done Ballanton," he noted. "But you'll need alot more than your battle axe and newly aquired level five hundred Kraken in order to defeat Justin."
"I will?"
"Yes, you'll also need Jerry Sandusky to battle against the mightiest threat of them all against our order of FAPS TO KIDS." Liam looked grim.

Ballanton fixed his red baseball cap and unpopped his collar. "Who is he? And do I need to use a Masterbaal to catch Jerry Sandusky?" The Fusion asked unquestioningly. 

"His name is Christopher Hansen. And no, just have a line of children in sailor suits follow you around, and he'll go with you anywhere you want. We have a secret weapon against him." The actor replied with the slight smile on his face. 
"A shotgun?"
"No, something even more devastating. His wife. And hidden cameras."
"What happened?"
"He divided by zero. Nothing happened at first, but sometimes the disaster can act slowly."
"That's a good point. Anything else I should be aware of before I set off? Where is Justin now?" The Fusion asked with little regard to the tightly compacted Kraken wriggling around in his Masterbaal. 
"Last I heard, Justin was trying to recruit Bob Saget. If he is successful, and he gets the attention of Barney Fife, a being over nine thousand more times more powerful than even the Kraken will be unleashed. Rumor has it that news has reached places as far as Gotham City."
"That far huh? Well, who knows- WHAT THE FLYING **** OF **** IS THAT!?" Ballanton shouted in more panic then hed ever experienced before, as a mountain sized Pokemon exploded from a tear in space and time. 

"Who's that Pokemon!?" Laim shouted as the bullet like spray slammed through the cliff top. Suddenly, Ash Ketchum appears, whips out his Pokedex and scans the out of place Pokemon

"Its a god damned Wailord made of a **** of robotic Tenticruels built out of a shitload of Steelixs evolved from a rapenami of Mudkips! GO POKE-WHAT THE ****!?" Ash screamed as Jerry's pedoninja skills went to work.

"NO! NO! NOOOOOO-" Jerry silenced the youngster by jamming a gatling gun into his **** and pulling the trigger, making a really clean tree trunk sized hole in Ash's body.

"Yeah, you better get going now."