39 Comments on You’re stranded on a deserted island with…
What would Jesus do?
Wait for her to fall over & then roll her out to sea.
You could probably sit in the crack of her ass and sail her out like a canoe as well.
Build a fire.
Those drumsticks can feed an army.
Hmmmm? Let’s see.
Swim to the nearest island in shark infested waters?
Smash her on the head with a coconut?
Smash myself on the head with a coconut?
Find the other side of the island and build a big, beautiful, extremely tall border wall.
Run as fast as you can (you know she has to be hungry) and then swim away from the island.
Sneak around in the jungle, pretending to be Vince Foster’s ghost.
Dig a deep hole, or fish for sharks. The only two choices I see.
Use her for bait. Crabs is edible.
Enjoy the fact that I could kill her, and nobody would know I did it. And lament the fact that I could kill her, and nobody would know I did it.
Fill coconuts with marijuana, lash them to Killary and send her out to sea, and live happily ever after.
PS the sharks got her.
One thing for sure you would have endless supply of lamp oil.
Coincidentally, Obama was on a desert island today. I saw it in the Bullpen.
As the Distinguished Rep. Hank Johnson would say.
“My fear is that the whole island will become so overly populated that it will tip over and capsize,”
Make her collect firewood
Nothing. She hates men.
I’d spend my time practicing telling the press how she tragically died in a freak avalanche, falling from the cliff – several times – until it was finally over, and reminding myself to not tell the press how heavy the evil bitch was.
“Don’t worry Wilson, I’ll do all the paddling. You just hang on”
I think Hillary could be useful to get rescued. With her size and clothing choices she should be visible from outer space. And her loud cackle is like an air horn. She’d be a useful tool.
Tell her the next island over has all the money you can stuff into your oversized coat and she’ll be gone in a flash.
Wake up and swear off spicy food before bed.
There’s a shit load of oil to be rendered down out of all that blubber enough to light a city.
You’re all to scared to say,
Eliminate the threat.
Been nice to have been around you all. I’ll tell Vince you gave a shout out to him.
I’m stuck on Hillary Island while her husband is banging some pert 15 year-old on Pedophile Island. 🙂
Aren’t you supposed to push beached whaled back out to sea?
1) Make damn sure her clothes don’t wear out.
2) Tie her to a coconut tree and then go try to make some bleach to wash your hands with.
Then, make a bow and arrow and shoot one at her every time she doesn’t answer your questions. But don’t kill her until you get the full confession.
I would convince her the adjacent island is full of naked virginal hula girls who have found pirates treasures of gold, diamonds, rare gems, and don’t know what to do with them, so it is worth the swim over. Just take some chum with her to feed the great whites circling the island. Then load her burqa with rocks; she will probably never notice the extra 200 lbs. If she does, tell her it’s ballast.
Skin her and make lampshades to sell on Etsy…
Doc – I’m pretty sure Bill never once said about Hillary: “Thar she blows!”
spend the endless days walking behind her poking her with a sharp stick making her continuously jump.
Create a safe space and tell her to keep her micro aggressions away from me.
Make her a harness out of coconut fiber rope
Clear some acreage for planting
Gilligan: Hey Skipper!
Skipper: Yes, Gilligan?
Gilligan: There’s a lady washed up on the shore and she doesn’t look happy.
Skipper: I think she’s a Kuppakai Head Hunter who loves to eat people. Don’t worry, Little Buddy, the professor has figured out a way to use all of her medical devices to get us off of the island.
Gilligan: Whew,cuz I thought she might try and steal my coconut crème pie!
Bring up all her scandals continuously until she has one of her seizures. Crack open my only beer. Watch. Repeat as necessary.
I’d just wait. Without her army of handlers she won’t last 48 hours. The only question is what would get her first: the stroke, the seizure, or injury from a ground-level fall.
With my luck, it would be an island so small I couldn’t be rid of that horrid voice, plus twice a day the island would disappear at high tide. So, I’d climb the only tree, strap myself in and wait for high tide to wash her out to sea. If she tried to hang onto my tree, I’d throw coconuts at her.
Take her to the lagoon and Baptize her over and over and over, again.