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Sunshine Megatron pulls a fast one on, well, everybody

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Hey, remember how Sunshine Megatron, a onetime Denver celebrity who nobody around here knew about (and who may or may not have been a big gay robot), declared a few weeks ago that he was shutting down his wildly successful and tasteless website T-Shirt Hell for no apparent reason?

Yeah? Well, he lied.

Good one, Sunshine. Ha ha ha. Fucking asshole.

As for those haters who were happy to hear he was apparently caving in, Mr. Megatron puts it eloquently on his website: "EAT MY SMELLY VAGINA." And for those who sent in hundred of supportive e-mails and collectively bought nearly 100,000 T-shirt Hell shirts since the make-believe liquidation sale started three weeks ago (suckers), Sunshine has nicer things to say: "YOU KICK FUCKING ASS AND I WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU ALL."

So why'd he do it? Maybe to jump-start his sales -- a "personal stimulus package," as he calls it. If so, the plan's success suggests that Sunshine should give Obama a pointer or two. Or maybe it was meant as one big middle finger to all those who thought a little protesting and name-calling would actually dent the bling-bling body armor of a dude who legally changed his name to something likely to be doodled on a Japanese schoolgirl's Trapper Keeper.

Or, most likely, because he's just motherfucking crazy.

Sure, this latest prank may piss off a few folks -- even those who'd grown to love Mr. Megatron's classy shirt slogans, like "Arrest white babies before they become child molesting, serial killing, whale watching, corporate thugs" and "Native Americans: Should have fought harder, you pussies." He may even get a few more death threats, a few more assassination attempts. Though even if someone does gets away with that dirty deed and sends Sunshine to the real T-Shirt Hell, he'll still have the last, media-blitzing laugh.

That's right: Now you can enter the "Guess When and How Sunshine Megatron Gets Murdered by an Angry Moron Contest" for a chance to win $50,000 and Mr. Megatron's ashes to place on your mantle. By the way, my money's on the assassin being a crack-addicted Maasai trangendered Illuminati weekend lady who chokes him with a massive vibrator.

There you have it. You can't keep a big gay robot down. You fooled us, Sunshine Megatron, fair and square. But oh, by the way, remember all that stuff you told us while drunk on Cristal-soaked Cheez-Its? Like how you sleep on plastic sheets and had a thing for your brother and have a teenie-weenie penis? Remember how we said we wouldn't tell anybody?

Yeah? Well, we lied.


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