Hopefully, beauty has no sense of smell.

Odd how some things hit you out of the blue and you suddenly remember something you had forgotten.

Here is the chain of events.

I bicycle commute, mainly because I am lazy.

Because if I don’t have a 45 minute bike ride in the morning and again in the afternoon, I would find myself compelled to “Go to the gym” and I am too lazy to go to the gym.

So I ride a 100 miles a week in order to properly be a lazy shit.

The logic is twisted but even Manson would agree with it, so I am good with it.

So, it follows that after work, I would ride to Starbucks to write.

I like my bike, so I lock it up like armed gangs are lurking to swoop in should I forget.

Two young ladies are walking away from Starbucks, drinking their chilled overpriced creations.

And talking shit.

“Sorry to tell her, she is not that hot.”

“Yeah” (Evidently, the second girl is the straight man, the first girl is the color commentator.

“I mean, it looks so phony. An Asian girl with blond hair. Seriously?”

“I didn’t want to sit there anymore.”

And off they went.

She’s still there?

I am always looking for the oddities in life, especially if they are getting their caffeine on at Starbucks.

Nothing more fun than reporting a freak show in the Temple of Legal Speed.

I walked into Starbucks with a bounce in my step.

And there she was.


I have the age range of women I am attracted to. Older women, not girls, who have seen the world a bit.

But there is an age women hit that is just out of the teens and just shy of what you would call “Older” that is breathtaking in its beauty.

Stunning is a word you would use.

It is effortless in it simplicity and loveliness.

To correct the young lady outside, yes, she is that hot.

For that brief moment, even the most jaded perverted men among us can only stop and admire what nature decided would peak at this moment, this critical apogee in time.

Well done nature.

Even I hesitate to besmirch that memory with shitty words and childish smacking.

Trust me, even that lazy bastard Karma would get off of his ass and give me an Ike Turner style tune up for daring to open my cake hole.

Nuff said.


On a side note, there is an old man in Starbucks who is not allowed to poo.

That sounds weird, but it appears to be true.

When I came in, he came in the opposite door.

While I was getting settled at a table, he made a beeline for the bathroom.

The somewhat tippy toe way he was walking gave you the impression that he was clenching his asscheeks together to avoid shitting himself.

And then he encountered the door lock.

It is a number pad, punch in the number, and the door will open.

Unless you don’t know the code.

Like him.

But that is not stopping him from stabbing his finger at random numbers then pounding on the doorknob.

And then he goes to the cashier. I would have gone their immediately, but thats me.

And the cashier really can’t wait to give it to him.

She announces the number when he gets 10 feet away.

So he marches back, asscheeks clenched to the point that he is walking stiff legged.

And can’t remember the code.

So he heads back to the cashier.

He is angry, not at the cashier, but maybe at the metamucil he takes 3 times a day that makes double parking a deuce in the lower intestine an impossible act.

But the cashier will bare the brunt of this.

“What’s the damn number?” He snaps.

The cashier smiles and gives it to him.

The training program at Starbucks rivals the Stepford Wives for automatic responses.

The stiff legged walk is a tad more pronounced this time.

This is getting ugly here.

There is a real possibility that the old guy may end up twisting out a growler in public.


Just as his 3rd attempt at the door code fails and you can see visible trembling in his hips, the bathroom door opens and a homeless guy comes out.

And just like that, the day is saved.

Except that now the old timer is sitting in a poorly ventilated room taking a backed up retirement shit while being smothered in some world class BO.

I bet he is wishing he had shit himself out here.

At least it would smell better.

Oh well, you can’t have it all.

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Posted by on October 2, 2015 in Uncategorized


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I weep for the future.

It has been pointed out to me that I seem to hold an incorrect opinion.

I don’t agree with that, mainly because I am wrong so seldom that its not even on the radar.

So, while my critic is definitely wrong, I am forced to examine the statement. (Mainly to figure out how best to disparage the critic. I know, we’ve met.)

Here is the opinion they “claim” is wrong:

The youth of today are dumb. (My own golden bloodlines exempted, of course. I swear, its like being part of the Master Bloodlines or something.)

I feel pretty confident about this too.

Here’s why that’s bullshit:

I am in my second favorite breakfast spot and sitting in my third favorite booth.(Of COURSE there is a rating system.)

And sitting at the next table?

A pack of subversive hippies.

Young ones.

Dumb ones.

Future drains on society.


Nothing kills your appetite quicker than listening to a marauding pack of pseudo intellectuals pontificating about subjects they know NOTHING about.

Here are some observations that are not assumptions, but based on statements made by the useless pieces of shit at the next table and looking at other evidence in attendance:

  • All 4 unwwashed hippies in their carefully ratty clothes come from well monied people. (One reference about trust fund and allowance, 2 Mercedes key-chains and one visa platinum card in evidence.)
  • All four bitching about “Monsanto”, yet two of them had to be corrected that Monsanto is a corporation and not a product. (Actual quote “The government should make it illegal to put that in food. Put what in food? Monsanto.”)
  • The belief that healthcare is now free. (I actually got involved here and asked. All 4 are covered by their parents insurance.)

The complete ignorance and spoiled entitlement is staggering in its entirety.

I used to know a subversive, a real one, old school, he reads this blog and I have complete respect for him.

Back in the day, we had a LOT of conflicting views.

But he understood them. Well.

He could debate them. In fact, he insisted on doing so publicly. (His Reagan outbursts were epic.)

It is a pretty solid fact that if you cannot calmly debate your point in public, or online, without devolving into name calling, then you do not understand your subject enough to hold the opinion in the first place.

Here is why I did not simply dismiss this older subversive and his opinions back in the day.

Because he didn’t sit on his ass.

He was more than willing to verbally go toe to toe with you about his beliefs.

He wrote and performed protest songs.

And he worked his ass off.

He was never a drain on anyone’s wallet.

A work ethic is always to be respected.

And guess what, he now holds, 20+ years later, a position of immense responsibility and contributes more than most ever will to the greater good.

Which, I think, is why the next table bothers me so much.

If you are going to be an alternative free thinker, don’t expect me to pay for it, or by extension your father and for GOD’S SAKE, know what the hell you are talking about.

Not that ignorance doesn’t have its place.

Its the only way some politicians can get elected.

And if you think I am talking about a specific political party, you are showing your own ignorance.

No, this is a general rant about the lazy and the ignorant, citizens or elected officials, take your pick.

There are times where I feel like the Lorax from that epic Dr. Suess tale.

I sit in my tower and dispense the wisdom thru the shuttered window of this blog.

So listen to me as I say, making the blanket assumption that the youth are smart and given time will find their way.

Thats ignorant, in and of itself.

Youth is ignorant, no matter what age you are.

If you want to be an intellectual, do the legwork and don’t expect me to pay for this, intellectually or monetarily.

And THAT is why I am correct.

The youth of today are dumb and a significant percentage will always be ignorant.

You are now free to go about your lives.



Posted by on September 25, 2015 in Uncategorized


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The opposite of Sex

Anastasia Beaverhausen has changed her name.

Written by Molloy

Men. I hate men. Can’t live with em, can’t kill ‘em. It’s an old cocktail party joke, but so true on so many levels. I get now why so many of my ‘middle-aged’ girlfriends have gone lesbo. They used to be married to men – most have had children with them, but something in them finally snapped, and they decided to start playing for the other team.

And I totally get it. Guys: you get so disgusting as you get older. Maybe it’s because your mothers are now too old, or even deceased, and us women are too tired to tell you one more goddam time to pick up your shit off the floor, but you. Still. Do. It. Every day. Do you really need to be reminded every single day? Your boxers on the floor. Your stinky socks and shoes all over the house. Your sandwich makings all over the counter. Your crap. Everywhere. It’s like you are a dog marking territory. Women don’t do this. Everything gets put back away. And we smell like roses. All the time. You all seem to have forgotten that a nice clean man = horizontal play time. Oh, and putting your crap away = horizontal play time + blow jobs and possible ass play – if you’ve poured enough wine.

Women who have tossed out their men, and decided to shack up with a female partner are my inspiration. They have someone wonderful to talk to, a clean house, and don’t have to explain those weird house scents to visitors (girls, you know which ones I mean – those “man smells”). Female partners in the same house have fridges with wonderful foods, such as hummus, wine (tons of wine), cheese, fruit, and olive oil. They also have towels that smell of lavender, no hair in the tub, and no fear of anyone using their cherished tweezers on anything but their eyebrows. Trust me: you just can’t un-see that image of your man leaning over the toilet, scraping out the underside of his toenails with your BrowGal. Speaking of toilets: The coup de gras……..cohabitating carpetlickers do not have to deal with the toilet seat, piss on the floor, or unflushed toilets.

Aaaaaah……I heard choirs of angels singing when I thought of that… more toilet issues. I think the mid-life-crisis-sexual-preference changers might be on to something with just that issue alone. They might not be having sex with each other (pity), but at least they are in their own special spa oasis of their own design (can I get a whoop whoop for no more leather recliners, 75 inch plasma screens, and foosball tables gals?).

Seriously, men are just overgrown little boys who like to play with snakes and fart, while women are prettier versions of little girls with the skills and knowledge to color-coordinate and run the world while making a port wine reduction sauce and coaching her teen daughter on partial differential equations.

Men: Can’t live with ‘em, and who wants to anyway? I hate men.


Posted by on September 21, 2015 in Uncategorized


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Where the big fish swim.

“A cheese danish Betty? Are you off your diet…again?”

There is a special magic in the air when two 400+lbs women decide to shit on each other’s weight.

Its like a Disney animated movie, awesome and awe inspiring at the same time.

The woman who stood in the doorway of her glass house and threw the first stone, was shoveling a portion of what appeared to be the biggest bear claw I have ever seen into her festering gob.

(I would like to take a moment to apologize for my insensitive comments on a very sensitive topic. Being overweight. I mean, I am carrying a little extra myself, so you think I would hold off. Fuck it, we’re doing this.)

Woman number 2, technically the victim here, never even paused as she took a bite of the aforementioned cheese danish that was big enough to choke a French man. (The punch line there is that it is impossible to choke a French man, those fuckers do nothing BUT swallow. )

We will call her Betty. (There are maybe two people that understand why Betty is a funny name.)

Betty doesn’t miss a beat.

“Following your example, Barb. Diabetes hasn’t slowed you down one bit.” (There is an implied Fuck You that is almost impossible to miss. And with the name Barb, we get to call her Babs.)

Then next five minute are really hard to take, and I am in pain when the ladies pack up and leave.

I have almost shit myself at least 3 times trying hard not to laugh.

Here are the highlights:

  • Betty has gout, and Babs thinks that is funny. (This is a level of Rotten Bitch that even I will not attempt.)
  • Babs son’s business failed and somehow this is linked to him being gay. (There is a line of logic that they both seemed to know, but Babs dismissed with a muffled belch.)
  • Both women referred to each other as “You old whore”, “Bitch” and even the C-word was trotted out a few times. (They were like sailors on leave with those mouths.)

It was an unbelievable thing to witness two people that the normal societal expectations would make them brittle emotionally, but instead had given them bullet proof self esteem and a “Go fuck yourself” attitude that would daunt a biker gang.

They said what they wanted, did what they wanted could not give two shits what you think.

They laughed more in the 10 minutes that I witnessed than most people do in a hot weekend in Vegas.

And when they left the room was a little sadder for the loss.

I love big personalities especially when they are attached to people outside the norm.

You will never see pretty people (Pretty according to the mass media definition) being this brutal, self deprecating and aggressive.

Most people get too self aware and shy to make a scene like that in public.

Like walking sharks, the little fish get out of their way.

And the pastries are just chum in the water.

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Posted by on September 18, 2015 in Uncategorized


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You wanna go out?

I am in one of my favorite breakfast places.

The coffee is hot, the hotcakes are good and they don’t mind me being there for a few hours.

And there is a couple on a date in the next booth.

It a “Meet and Greet” date.

They met on a dating site.

He is here to try and get things going.

She is here to make sure he is not a serial rapist.

That’s a date that starts with the phrase “Hey, does this rag smell like chloroform?”

Its an odd thing to see two people in their mid 30’s being this polite and nervous.

From the sound of my RUDE listening in, they have been IM-ing all week.

You would think they would be a little more comfortable.

Or maybe that is why they are nervous, because they know a little something about each other.

There’s a little skin in the game now.

It would be easier on the nerves if they had met in a singles bar.

Emotionally, there is no skin in the game there, just skin.

Singles bars used to be called meat markets and for good reason.

Nowadays, we are much more civilized.

And the meat market is now online.

And its a hundred times worse.

It used to just be that there was one or two guys that would get sloppy drunk and use the obscene pick up lines.

The bouncers would get wind of it and Mr. Rude would get tossed.

And all was right with the world.

Now however, due to the anonymous safety of the internet, guys aren’t even getting sloppy drunk before they break out the truly vile pick up lines.

And out of pure survival instinct, the ladies have mentally circled the wagons.

Three quarters of all women’s profiles on the dating sites say, at a minimum, “No hook ups”.

And that is the mildest defense.

The ladies that have truly had a hard time has some disclaimers that, at first glance, you would think was a joke.

One truly stunning Asian woman had a disclaimer, all in caps, at the end of her carefully written profile.

“I will not  blow you on the first date and I am not into anal.”

Here are my thoughts.

That is not the sort of thing you write because 1 or 2 random guys asked her these things.

There had to have been enough requests that she felt it necessary to include, not in the first private communication, but in the profile, right off the bat.

This is like dealing with a battered wife.

Or maybe it is dealing with a battered wife, without the hassle of the wedding.

Which leaves the rest of us to deal with a bunch of hypersensitive women that have been mind-banged by the internet.

Thanks guys, on behalf of all of us trying to date in the modern age, thanks a bunch.

Now, there has to be one woman, some complete skank that this has worked on for this many assholes to get the idea that it will work.

So she deserves a big thanks from the rest of us.

The internet is more to blame than anything else.

Because now the freaks have an easier time cranking their freak flags to even more disgusting heights.

As we all know, the weirdest porn comes from Japan.

So, no matter what you are into, there is a website dedicated to that.

Before this becomes a post about internet porn, let me pull my attention back to the dating couple.

They have both calmed down and there is some decent conversation going on.

And there is no chloroform in site.

I wish them luck.



Posted by on September 14, 2015 in Uncategorized


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And now for something completely different.

I have told a long time fan of the blog that if she ever wrote a post, I would put it on the site. Well, she did it. I will publish mine on Monday. I have forced her to pick a pen name. Enjoy…

Do as I say, not as I do – by Anastasia Beaverhausen

The devil herself: Kim Davis, ladies and gentlemen. A boil on the ass of hypocrisy. That fugli skank just bitch-slapped America and erased years of progressive movement for LGBT rights. Makes me rethink our electoral system: If we can vote in favor of same-sex marriage, and legalized marijuana, and also elect self-righteous county clerks into position, then how do we have a prayer of confidently moving into the end of the 2010 decade with a new leader of the free world? Oh, did I say prayer? Forgive me. Oh, forgive isn’t PC, either. Screw it.

Even the Pope is cutting edge, and demanding change. Embrace it or not, he has the balls to do something. It may not be a functioning, procreative sac, but Pope Francis has got it going on.

Ms. Davis hides her fat Lauren Ashley floral print jumper-wearing ass behind her bible, which I’m certain has never had her beady little eyes laid upon even one scripture verse. “Behold! I am a 4-time married ho that hasn’t the faintest idea of anything in the real world except for what I’ve been brainwashed into thinking and believing”.

Kim Davis needs a makeover both physically and mentally. I’m sick of her ugly face showing up on the news feeds, spewing her diatribes to America. Who the fuck does she think she is? It’s not like she won by a landslide – she barely got elected! Clearly this wasn’t a beauty contest. Actually, I prefer she makes Margaret Thatcher look like a Victorias Secret model: I would have to kill myself if I found myself even remotely attracted to Kim “get a life” Davis.

She promised and swore to uphold the constitution of the USA, but refused to follow the law? Well, let her tell it to Officer Krupke. I’m sure he’ll understand. Of course, this gives us all free license to weasel out of any ticket if we’re pulled over. If Kim Davis can refuse to uphold the law, why should we? Good lord – should we be thanking her for showing us the way to a lawless society?

Smack! I’m OK now – had to slap myself back to reality. She must be hypnotizing Americans into her self-proclaimed righteous way of thinking. Good think I (and all of you) have our wits about us.

I wish I was in jail with her: I’d show her a thing or two about obeying and submitting – two of my favorite terms in the bible. I’d even let her wear her pastel turtleneck sweaters while I spilled my seed. Those conservative bible-belt gals are really just begging to have their beliefs challenged. They don’t call it “in the biblical sense” for nothing.

Thank God she hasn’t procreated. There I go again: using religious lingo. At least I have a soapbox to stand on: I almost went in the seminary. This qualifies me to tell you to tell Kim to fuck off. Just do it. Tell her.

Do as I say.

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Posted by on September 11, 2015 in Uncategorized


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Nicolaus Copernicus was a mathematician and astronomer born in the late 1400’s, and was the first to posit the idea that the planets revolved around the sun. (Theres more to it, but thats basically it. And you should see the Wikipedia pic of him. He looks like a fuglier version of Ringo Starr.)

It was game changing for the scientific community.  

It was an obvious, basic truth that no one saw until he said it, one of those things you can’t unknow.

So why the Astronomy lesson today?

Because I would like to put forth my own theory, based on that same idea of Heliocentricity. (Remember that whole Sun thing?)

I call it iPhonecentricity. It is the theory that all life revolves around the iPhone.

Not mine, I turned mine in and went Android a few months back.

I mean hers.


Bitchzilla isn’t a who as much as she is a what. Like some sort of sci fi monster of the mental/verbal realm, she is stomping all over the tranquility of the room. (Its a stretch, but it made me laugh and I am king here.)

She is a female, I am fairly certain of that. (There are breasts in evidence under her business suit with conservative skirt. However, she could be pulling a Bruce Jenner, “Call me, Caitlin.” Side note – Get your nuts wacked and I will.)

The Universe and all things in it, revolve around Bitchzilla’s iPhone 6 Plus.

I have been in line for a few minutes at Starbucks and I have so far heard Bitchzilla mention her iPhone 6 Plus 3 times.

She is on Bluetooth with someone who is somehow not having a stroke due to the verbal strobe of this woman’s screechy voice.

She also seems to be texting.

And she is switching screens to play Words with Friends.

And to hear her tell it? She is brilliant for having it.

(You didn’t invent it, you dizzy dumbass, you just paid too much for it. There IS a difference.)

I got my coffee and decided that with all the cycling I do, my heart could handle sitting next to Bitchzilla without risking permanent damage.

The nice thing about the iPhone 6 Plus is that the screen is big enough for me to see from 3 feet away.

Her words with friends game is not going well. Her opponent has 655 points, she has 52.

That was not a typo.

She is the queen of the 2 letter play.

No brains, no headaches.

By the way, she could take a hammer and smash the screen on purpose, ON PURPOSE and they will replace it, because she paid extra. (I only said on purpose twice, she said it 3 times.)

Her coffee drink looks like it has gone cold without a sip out of it.

I have seen meth addicts with better control.

Her digital crack is going to be the death of her.

She is totally the lady on the news that was texting while driving, didn’t look out the window for a 5 minute period because she had a badass 3 letter word to play on WWF and plows into a crowd of cancer victims.

And before you tsk tsk me, remember that more than half of you nodded your heads at that line before you chucked that rock of condemnation at my glass house.

So we’re all going to hell together, but my conscience will be clear.

And Bitchzilla will be at the head of that line.

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Posted by on September 4, 2015 in Uncategorized


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