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I wish I could quit you

Ok, I am willing to be the first to admit that I have been a lazy shit for a few months.

I haven’t written a post for quite awhile.

But can you really blame me?
I mean, I started the blog coming up on 7 years ago this June and have written almost 700 posts and close to three quarters of a million words on a blog that I can’t honestly prove anyone actually reads.

I mean, masturbation at least gets you a money shot, but this form of literary/intellectual fapping denies me even a foul smelling crunchy sock.

So why am I here today?

Iz is why I am tapping away here.

Iz is the poster child for whats wrong with this country/generation/the kids today.

She is worthless even for a millenial.

She is on her phone at a Starbucks. (What else would she be doing?)

Her entire manner of speaking is that of someone terminally bored.

All sentences begin with a sigh.

And she cleaves to the latest trend among the you and worthless.

She has her phone on speaker, you know, so the rest of us can enjoy her conversation too.

“Sigh, I was going to go to work today, but I so can’t right now.” (Can’t what? Take responsibility for yourself and earn a paycheck?)

On the phone is someone equally worthless.

“Sigh, I know, right? I went for my morning vape break and didn’t go back.” (This is normally how adults get fired, but I am willing to bet money that her company gives days off if you “So can’t right now”.)

More from the mouth of Iz.

“I feel like they take whole thing too far, its no fun.” (Awww, poor fucking baby!)

Time to get involved. (I recently realized that I am too old to care anymore. If she is going to include me in the conversation, I get to speak.)
“Why don’t you just quit whining and go to work?”

The look on Iz’s face is a mix of surprize slap out of nowhere and unexpectedly shitting yourself in church.

Then she decides to be angry. A child’s scowl darkens her spoiled little face.

“Excuse me?” (Whoever her half-tarded friend on the phone is, she is bewildered and saying “What?” over and over.)

“I said, why don’t you just quit whining and go to work?” (I keep my voice nice and even. This whole situation can turn on me in a heartbeat and I know it.)

Pause.

“Oh. My. God.” (It never occurs to this ditz to take her phone off of speaker, that would be the normal reaction of a self aware person.)

“This guy is yelling at me.” (To a millenials, anyone who disagrees or chastises you is yelling.)

She left, but I was so disappointed.

I had been hoping for at least some shitty comments.

Not an OLD guy, not some FAT guy (Lost a bunch, but still have more to go), and not even this guy is an ASSHOLE.

I am weeping even more for the future than I normally do.

Let me be clear.

I was not looking for her to leap across the table and try to prison-shank me, but anything but passivity would have been nice.

I have thought a lot of things about the generation in question before, most of them not nice.

But I never thought of them as pussies.

And that is just sad.

I would feel worse, but I got a Sumatran pour over today and the last sip made me cum a little bit.

Mmmmm coffee.

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Posted by on May 4, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

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Shhhhhh nobody cares.

There is a fine line between being lost and finding your way.

A lot like sexual harassment, if both of you are into it, its just flirting.

But if only one of you is in the game, you could end up in jail. (And they play a different game of sexual harassment there.)

Ignorance only needs a split second of enlightenment to become educated.

But desire kind of drives both.

I was watching various debates on FB. (I am really taking liberties with the word “Debate”. FB exists in this childish, low-brow intellectual place that the truly ignorant think of as enlightened and the enlightened just pity the fuck out of you and tolerate it.)

And there really is no desire to change minds or put any actual original thought out there.

There is only the desire to type-vomit your opinion on others and rage at those who do anything but applaud your outburst.

Actual quote from FB: “Either you get it, or you are a Fucktard and don’t get it!”

Nothing really drives your perspective home than an intellectually enticing word like “Fucktard”.

The ignorant view it as an passionate response and once again, the rest of us tolerate it and realize that you are not able to talk with the adults.

To correct you and try to explain why you have destroyed any credibility in your argument would be like trying to explain string theory to the cat. (Cats are many things and mostly evil, but they have no talent for theories and concepts eating smaller animals and triggering your asthma.)

So, how do we have a civil debate on FB?

The real answer that you don’t like and want to argue, is that you can’t.

Its not a forum made for the actual trading of ideas.

It is a construct of the ego, nothing more.

It exists to allow you to feel connected in an increasingly isolated society.

But I have always believed that masturbation should be done in isolation, no matter if its physical, emotional or mental masturbation, keep it to yourself. (You learn this in Catholic school.)

There was a perfect example of the vacuous facade that our society as it stands.

Snapchat, an app that exists to simply be another flavor of social media, saw its stock drop 7% because Kylie Jenner made a disparaging Tweet about it.

The absolutely pathetic part of all this is that the Social Media crows are screaming about how horrible it is that this one person has that power to damage a company.

And the one thing nobody wants to point out is that Social Media invented that squealing pack of overrated hoes to begin with.

You should not be allowed to bitch when the golden calf turns on you.

For better or worse, you made your own bed here.

Now shut up and go to bed.

 

Note to self, don’t write before you have your coffee.

I tend to be dark and a little more bitter than usual.

Now that I have a Venti of java in me, I just noticed that the couple across from me are involved in an odd form of public foreplay.

She has been texting in her phone, then without looking, she dips he finger into her iced coffee something with whipped cream and sticks her finger in his mouth.

He is texting and never looks up, he just sucks on her finger for a few seconds.

Every now and then, he will reach over, again without looking, and run the back of his knuckle over her nipple.

I am not sure if this qualifies for a #metoo moment, she seems to be into it, but its hard to tell because neither one is making eye contact or seems to have any expression or emotion going on.

The vibe is one of awkward creepiness.

Not made for polite company, but perfectly suitable for your second cup of coffee in the morning.

Mmmmmm coffee.  

 
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Posted by on February 23, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

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Can I have some more, please?

I have been accused of being uncaring.

I am not denying it, but I did have to ask for clarification about WHAT I am not giving a shit about. (I may be an asshole, but I am a specific asshole)

Turns out my rude critic was talking about the fact that I have not written a post in 2018, and THAT was why I was uncaring.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

I haven’t written anything BECAUSE I care.

I haven’t seen anything that has gotten my sarcastic muse wet in the panties.

The well has gone dry, I am burnt out, I may never write ag-

I was walking down the street and saw an old dog, laying on a porch, licking his balls, and then it hit me.

We are all here for a reason.

Time to get back on the horse.

So I went to Starbucks and looked for inspiration.

And it turns out that inspiration keeps a tight delivery schedule.

Sitting next to me was the coffee shop version of Job. (To those on you unlettered heathens, its pronounced “Jobe”. Job was the whipping boy of the scriptures. God let the Devil gang beat him like a ginger and he never lost his faith. Thank God it was him and not me, I don’t have that kind of fortitude. I get a papercut and I am questioning my existence.)

 

The story of Job.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…etc.

Blah, blah, blah, you know the rest, its the opening line from A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens.

Here’s the thing about Dickens.

He was an asshole when it came to life.

Everything being dark and sad and people living in such shitty conditions that the kids in the UNICEF commercials would be willing to take a break from waving the flies out of their mouths for a few minutes and pony up a couple of bucks.

So, if you ever want to ruin your day and shift into a “What’s the use? I may as well kill myself” type of mode, pick up a copy of anything written by Dickens.

Why the hate rant on Dickens?

Because the guy next to me has the saddest story I have ever heard and his name is Oliver. (Started out as Job, then morphed to Oliver. Its a reach, and I acknowledge that, but fuck you, its my blog, I am God here, and it is what we are going with.)

Oliver, it seems, has lost his job. (Pronounced “Job”, if you are a millennial, you are probably wondering what a job is. Ask your parents, if they will still acknowledge you in public.)

And, “Hanna” has left him for someone he knows. (Wife or girlfriend, I am not quite sure. But she is out there, legs in the air, doing shit that career fetish hookers charge high dollars for and its all pro-bono. (Pro-bono isn’t the right word there, but the hooker-bono linguistics are spot-on funny.)

And if that sore on his lip is an indicator, Oliver has a little herpes going on. (Either given to him by or he gave it to, the disloyal skank Hanna.)

Turns out Oliver is wearing those special ortho shoes that has one sole taller than the other, indicating that both of his legs are different lengths. (I almost left this one out, even I have a hard time believing that little detail.)

“But what is your biggest problem right this minute?” I hate getting involved, but someone has to ask the obvious question.

Oliver pondered, went to take a sip of coffee, stopped and shook the empty cup, laughing.

“I’m out of coffee.”

And then he hobbled his unlucky ass up to the counter for a refill and a scone.

At least he has his priorities straight.

Mmmmm coffee.

 
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Posted by on February 16, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

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Season’s F-n Greetings

There is a meme going around facebook that says “Do this for fun after Xmas.”

It shows a Christmas tree, rolled in plastic and taped up to look like a body. It says to drag it to the dumpster midday, wearing a hoodie splashed with ketchup and sun glasses. They said to look around a lot and act like the tree weighs a lot.

Its worth a 2 second chuckle at most, but do yourself a favor and don’t do it.

If you have never had the FBI put the boot to your front door at 2am, its a holiday treat that is not to be missed.

Best to be in the middle of the living room on your knees, hands on your head with your fingers interlaced.  (They are still going to boot you prone and put a knee on your neck, but at least you will have a shorter distance to fall. There is a background soundtrack of shouted “STOP RESISTING!” that puts a definite spin on the event.)

If there is a silver lining to that little life event, its that while they are filming, hopefully you will not see it on an upcoming episode of Live PD, just in an intimate viewing during your trial.

Anyone who thinks this sounds fun has a masochistic streak that the Marquis De Sade would envy.

But thats just me.

There is an entire segment of society that seems to think tagging something as “It was a joke” or “I wasn’t serious” seems to put their get out of jail free card up in lights.

I spend a lot of my spare time writing a lot of offensive shit.

If it offends, trust me, that was my intention.

I have had people unfriend me, stop talking to me and on a couple of occasions, been threatened with an ass kicking.

I am ok with that.

I am not a badass, but I have had my ass kicked before, by people who know what they were doing.

Every now and then, I see an episode of Cops that the “perp” leads police on a car chase, ditches the car, foot race, and then, finally, gives up and seems shocked when there is a knee on his neck and a night stick halfway up his ass.

“Alright, I give up!”

Its so cute that they think that will help de-escalate the situation, its also more than a little sad.

This is a glimpse of the future and it is a sad one.

Sad because there is a whole dumb segment of the public that will say “Dude! He gave up. They don’t need to be rough with him!” (I am of the personal opinion that they need to take him out back and “Old Yeller” him, but thats just me.)

And that is where a middle of the night case of micro swamp-ass comes from, the realization that these ass clowns are next up to run the show.

God help us all.

I feel better having gotten that little rant off of my chest.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled programs, memes and cat videos.

And for God’s sake, have some coffee and stop breaking the rules.

But mainly, have some coffee.

Mmmmm coffee.

 

By the way, New Years is just a few days away. Do yourself a favor and try not to F-up your year and get arrested.

Not that I care, but if you are being raped in prison, you are not reading this blog or having decent coffee.

And THAT is the real crime.

 
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Posted by on December 29, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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Under the mistletoe. #METOO

The week before Christmas is rarely all sugar cookies.

Lotta shit goes down twisted.

There are some years that have been that bad that you are afraid to be caught under the mistletoe because you could get “Roofied”. (Happy “Cosby” Xmas!)

The darker side is, there is usually a death around Xmas that slows the holiday cheer just a tad.

Think I’m kidding?

I have had Grandparents, cousins and a favorite pet pass away around the holidays.

My rotten suspicious side begins to wonder if Santa is involved somehow?

I mean, he is making a list, checking it twice.

Serial killers are known for making lists.

Let’s look at other red flags surrounding “Old St Nick”.

He lives in an isolated area and keeps to himself 364 days a year.

Has an associate with a Euro first name who’s nose is always red? (Rudolph? A coke-head? Bear with me.)

He breaks into numerous people’s houses and eats their food. (Homeowners have yet to find him passed out on their kitchen floor in a puddle of his own piss, but its just a matter of time.)

I am shocked we have not seen Santa on an episode of COPS. (The plates on the sled come back stolen, Santa is “Borrowing” the sled from a friend who’s name he can’t remember and that baggie of powder in his pocket? “That’s not mine!”)

It would be worth the soul-crushing disappointment just to see the Jolly Fat Man being fed into the back of a patrol car in handcuffs.

 

Just had a frightening moment.

I was sexually harassed.

I thought I was going to have to do a #METOO post on Facebook.

I was sitting here, reading this piece on my laptop, when I felt it.

A hand brushed my testicles.

I ignored it, maybe someone bumped into me.

And then the hand began fondling me.

I froze.

I was humiliated, I was embarrassed.

And then I realized the hand was mine.

False alarm.

 

In true caffeine-soaked, grinch-like fashion, I didn’t finish the blog ahead of schedule and have it post early today.

I am belting it out and will immediately post.

Although, that was how the first 6 months of the blog was done, nothing ahead of time, and that was some incredible stuff. (I can wait hear if you want to use the archive on the right to read the first six month. Summer 2011 was a good time for wine and shitty blogs.)

Everyone up to date? Good!

I would love to have some sort of excuse for my laziness, and I got nothing.

So lets throw the holidays under the bus.

Looking like a pretty good Christmas, beginning to shake a minor cold and have back to back 3 day weekends for Xmas and New Years.

I even allowed the barrista to shake a little cinnamon and pumpkin spice into my coffee, just to be festive.

So I am drinking Christmas today.

As long as Christmas tastes like coffee.

Mmmmmm coffee.

God bless us, everyone.

 
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Posted by on December 22, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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Ho, Ho, Hoe

Sometimes the holiday season can come upon you like an STD, painful and embarrassing.

And you find yourself worrying about it on the toilet a lot.

Its a lot like stages of grief.

Denial. “It can’t be Christmas already?!?!” (Stop posting affirmation memes on FB for 2 fucking seconds and look at the calendar.)

Anger. “I hate how commercial it is!” (And yet YOU feed the beast, every year.)

Bargaining. “Alright, I can skip the gym 2 days a week and just budget my time tighter, that will work, right?” (It is one of those lines that you know are a lie when you say them. Its your baby, sure I’ll pay you back, I’ll pull out, that sort of thing.)

Depression. “Fuck it, I don’t care, this year is just fucked because of blah, blah, blah.” (There is a certain charm to being totally fucked, but that statement makes no sense to those who have never bottomed out.)

Acceptance. “I am going to get a good tree this year!” (Control the shit you can control.)

That being said, Christmas is coming, time to start fat shaming the goose just prior to his death.

Personally, you couldn’t make me eat goose with a gun to my head.

I once ate foie-gras (Goose liver, but God knows what they do to it.) in Paris during my peace mission to France. (My Great grandfather was a war hero and hated the French with a passion he usually reserved for the English (We’re Irish) or the Italians (Just because).

Foie-Gras was so foul I suddenly understood my great grandfather and the French. (2 bottles of wine later, I tried foie-gras again. Still nasty.)

I work with one of those annoying vegetarians that claims to be much healthier but is always out sick.

I am an unapologetic carnivore.

Meaning that it wouldn’t bother me to be in on the kill, but my work schedule prohibits it. (For the record, the last time I was sick was 2 years ago. Sinus infection that cleared up in a few days.)

My immune system is a lot like a 6’8 special forces soldier, its not afraid of anything, it just figures out how to kill it.

But go ahead and eat your fucking bean sprouts.

Can you feel Christmas in the air?
People are spending money and planning for the day.

It quit being a religious day for the masses awhile ago.

And I am ok with that.

Faith is Faith, you either have it or not, regardless of what day you get off of work.

But, when the day comes and you end up roasting in Hell, don’t come bitching to me.

I will be having a steak with the Almighty while you and the vegetarians get yours.

I am not wishing hell on you, just to be clear.

Vegetarians, yes., fuck those guys.

Oh, and coffee, there will be coffee.

I am fairly certain the Almighty is a dark roast guy.

Happy holidays.

Mmmmmm coffee.

 
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Posted by on December 15, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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One for the ladies…

There is a holiday show on right now that has a penniless single mom who gave some woman CPR on the way to work, saves a life, is fired by the shitty Grinch she works for for being late and after a LOT of HIGHLY improbable “Notebook” type shit, she finds true love and the woman she save sends her a Christmas card with a few grand in it.

And I found myself changing my ways.

My caffeine soaked, Grinch-like heart has grown three sizes and I am about to toboggan my hairy ass down the mountain to Whoville.

Because that’s where the money is.

The next well monied old biddy that goes tits up in front of me has my full attention.

I will suck start that old broad back to life.

Right after I run her credit.

She’s turning blue, I will get eye contact for a sec.

“WHAT’S THE LAST 4 OF YOUR SOCIAL? THE LAST 4?!?!”

She has over a 750 and I’m jingling her chimes for the holidays.

I will be in the will before the paramedics get there. (I am a registered minister. I can perform it all myself. I am also a notary.)

Have I upset anyone?

Awwww, and don’t I just feel terrible about that?

It is officially that period between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

That time of year when anyone connected with retail laments their life choices and plots their suicide.

If you are a parent, you might be lamenting your life choices and plotting your suicide.

While the rest of us give thought to what to get our kids for Xmas. (I used Xmas on purpose. Lets leave Christ out of this, its more about the shopping. He was never a big shopper anyway.)

Stock market is booming, people are working and life is good, right?

Depends on who you talk to.

Half the government is denying they wiggled their dick at anyone and the other half is busy apologizing for it.

Thank god they are not outing regular Joe’s like me.

Have I wiggled my dick at the opposite sex on occasion?

You’re goddam right I have!

But, while I have never been prosecuted or forced to step down from a job, I might hesitate to run for office.

What is so sad is, the first accusation comes out and these entertainment bigwigs/politicians immediately claim it never happened, they don’t remember it and never met the accuser.

And then more accusations come in, like there is a line forming in the hallway.

And then their career goes the way of Bill Cosby.

Now, I would like to take a swing at Bill Cosby and his 54 rapes, but it suddenly occurs to me that I have a daughter.

So fuck that guy and his brother Russell.

Its almost upsetting enough to ruin my coffee.

I said almost, lets not get crazy.

Mmmmm coffee.

 
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Posted by on December 1, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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