Shhhh, nobody cares

There are times I love Facebook and times I hate it.

I tend to use it as a playground, treating everyone on it like playthings.

I see how much shit I can stir up on a regular basis.

And if you think there is no shit to stir, you are the shit.

Some people I go after their reaction like I am fishing for trout.

My high point was my fake account for the largest high school in Des Moines, Iowa.

There was a study that said this was the most average place in the USA.

So I created a profile, loaded a bunch of group pics, never a single person pic and choose a name that was similar to all the names on the largest high school alumni page in Des Moines.

I commented a lot on the Alumni page and then began sending out friend requests.

Within a month, I had over 200 friends, several people that say they remembered me and one girl that claims I made out with her at a party.

There was a vile part of me that really enjoyed slapping around these cyber mice like a digital cat, and a noticeable lack of remorse.

Evidently I have no shame.

Or if I do, I also have some sort of emotional disconnect that keeps it from influencing my actions.

I am good with that.

Everyone should have a hobby. (Fucking with people.)

And then there is times I hate Facebook for what it does to people.

It seems to bring out the therapy dependent tendencies in some.

These tendencies manifest in two different ways.

The first is a need for reassurance.

It starts with a passive aggressive statement about eliminating people unless there is some sort of response.

The immediate reaction is a reply of “Please don’t unfriend me.”

I immediately ask to be unfriended.

They usually think I am kidding.

Sad thing is, I am not kidding.

Who has time for this drama?

I deliberately use the word drama because there are those that constantly mention trying to avoid drama.

And they are the ones that are always hip deep in it.

The second tendency comes in the form of continually posting self help posters about how a real man/friend will treat you.

Its exhausting.

I stop being nice at this point.

I don’t have that kind of time.

There will never be a time that I make any demands of anyone on Facebook other than to try to force you to stand up to me.
I am a bully of sorts.

Usually I will push the various buttons of those that present themselves as Alpha types.

You want to play with the big dogs, learn to show your teeth.

Plus, in a sick way, its a lot of fun.

The biggest key that NO ONE seems to get is that none of this should be taken seriously.

Somebody said its like high school.

Not even that grown up in my eyes.

More like a sandbox of children all armed with smart phones.

So, if I happen to throw a little sand your way, wipe your eyes, pull up your big kid pants and throw some back.

Remember, nobody like a crybaby.

Child or adult.

A test reader just asked me why I sound like an ass.

Good, I am hitting the right tone.

So if one more person asks me to answer an obviously cut and pasted posted with a single word about how we met then repost, my answer will be “FISTING” and I don’t care how many coworkers and elder relatives they are Facebook friends with.

Just saying.

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Posted by on October 21, 2016 in Uncategorized


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Got something to say?

For God’s sake, wash your ass!

I don’t think I am asking for too much here.

I cannot name a time that Starbucks ever had a stank like this going on.

And the sad part is, it’s a self inflicted wound.

Starbucks did it to itself.

It all has to do with free electricity and lax policies concerning the homeless.

Every table is wired in a starbucks.

They do that so people like me will stay awhile.

The longer I stay, the more I will buy.

But here is the flaw in the plan.

The homeless will spend a dollar and stay all fucking day.

The government gives away cell phones with chargers and free cell plans.

The one thing the government does not give away is charging stations with free electricity.

So here is the one flaw in Starbuck’s plan.

I am positive that I am the customer they planned on with the whole setup.

As opposed to a $1.50 sale to someone who will then sleep in a massive BO stupor for 10 hours.

I can guarantee that little scenario is not on any business plan at the corporate office.  

I broke my nose years ago playing hockey, so I don’t smell much these days.

But the stench of the unwashed ass of the homeless guy at the next table is killing me.

“How can you be so cruel? You don’t know what his life has been like. Walk a mile in his shoes…blah, blah, fucking blah.”

Cry pussy, cry your eyes out.

All actions in life have consequences.

A dozen minor decisions pile up into 1 major issue.

Ignorance of the laws of life is no excuse.

“But thats not fair!”

Right, its not.

Doesn’t mean thats not how it is.

Sorry to get real on you, but that little rant I found balled up in the back of my head, so I dusted it off and put it out there.

Shit in my head has a shelf life.

I keep nothing past the due date.

That little philosophy will not win you a lot of friends and it will lose you a few, but at least you know that the ones that are left have a little backbone to them.

Excellent sign of people who I will piss off is that they use the phrase “There is nothing funny about ___”

Censoring yourself is like an addiction, it seems harmless at first and then you realize one day that it effects everything you do.

Trust me on this one, you don’t wake up one day with this type of literary tourettes.

Its a place you end up, not a place you begin at.

There is a scene in the epic tale Cyrano De Bergerac where Cyrano talks about being his own man:

“But, to sing, to laugh, to dream,

to walk in my own way,

free with an eye to see things as they are,

a voice that means manhood.

To cock my hat where I choose.

Not a word, a yes, a no?

To fight, or write.

But never to make a line I have not heard in my own heart.”

Edmond Rostand was the shit.

I wonder how he took his coffee?

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Posted by on October 14, 2016 in Uncategorized


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And leave your ass alone

Put a sugar cube up your ass.

Feeling a little blah? (Have you tried coffee?)

No pep in your step?  (Have you tried coffee?)

Need a little pick me up? (Have you tried coffee?)

Then just drop trow, bend over and shove a cube of refined sugar up your bunghole.  (Have you tried coffee?)

I know what you’re saying, “Hey Bitter, that won’t work.”

I know that.  (Have you tried coffee?)

You know that.

Everyone you meet throughout the course of your day knows that.

Everyone except the hipster dumbfuck at the next table at Starbucks.

He offered up that ironically sweet little opinion into his phone just a minute ago.

I thought maybe I had misheard him.

But the guy on the phone must have thought the same thing, because Rectal Sugar Daddy said it again and went into detail.

I wish he hadn’t.

There are some things, concepts mostly, that you cannot unthink once you hear them.

Mostly evil stuff.

Socialism, Scat parties, Amway, scary stuff that is better left untouched, like shit on the sidewalk, give it a wide berth and just go around it.

The wheel, fire and masturbation have already been invented, so no need to keep working on that.

As a niche of humanity, hipsters have a basic dissatisfaction with life that really is pathetic to behold.

There is a whiny obsession with having to have something uniformly unique about themselves.

Like a puzzle with pieces that are all the same shape, and one look tells you what the boring picture is.

But, seriously, have you tried coffee?

5 hour shots, energy drinks, energy supplements are desperate attempts to be hip, be new, do something different.

Just like everyone else.

But, have you tried coffee?

Coffee is tried, true and reliable.

Still relatively cheap, available everywhere, and you will never have you pour it up your ass.

Although, I have heard that a coffee enema is amazing.

Never gonna happen, I can only imagine what mainlining my drug of choice with a rectal delivery system would do to my central nervous system.

Plus, there comes a point that you have to ask, “Am I just doing this to have an excuse to put something up your own ass?”

I don’t judge.

Ok, I do, but I will usually keep it to myself or at least not call you on it publicly.

It almost makes you want to ask Rectal Sugar Daddy what else is on his anal agenda.

Maybe sugar cube is his little nickname for a two foot long latex monstrosity made in the Netherlands with an face painted on it with the words “Sugar Cube” written in Arabic.

Just saying.

But have you tried coffee?

Coffee is trouble free, coffee is uncomplicated, coffee is the beverage of the rightious.

Coffee just is.

Have you tried coffee?

I have, and it was like a liquid epiphany, a clarity of thought mixed with a slightly raised pulse and cream n sugar.

And the rest is history.

So, if nothing else I have said has sunk in, or grabbed hold of you, I will leave you with this final thought.

Have you tried coffee?

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Posted by on October 7, 2016 in Uncategorized


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As plain as black and white

A stray comment from the next table caught my ear this morning.

“I don’t want this to sound racist, but”

And I swear, I almost laughed out loud.

The reason for my barely controlled outburst is that, when someone starts a sentence with that phrase, you KNOW that the following sentence will be racist as hell.

This morning, the second half of that sentence was…

“That black guy has complete advantage in this heat.”

Backtrack for a second. The questionably racist millennials at the next table, are dumb, being in their early 20’s thats a given, but they are also white and insecure.

They have an expensively grunge look to them.

So we know that they come from money, but have issues with that.

It is hot out.

Southern California in late September can be a bitch.

When the two Twitterheads walked in, they mentioned the two homeless guys out front.

I didn’t think much at the time, but now that is a key point here.

The two homeless guys are your usual homeless, dirty and smell like piss, by coincidence, they happen to be black and white.

So to put the story together, they feel that the black guy has an advantage in the heat.

Here is the simple facts.

It doesn’t matter what color they are, the fact is they are both drug addled as to be wearing several layers of clothing and that sitting in the blistering sun without shade to beg for change makes sense.

No matter what color you are, its a bad idea.

For a $1.15, they could get a small coffee and sit in the air conditioning for several hours.

However, that would take $1.15 away from their drug of choice. (This comes from the professionals that work with the homeless. You have good intentions, but you are dumb and don’t know.)

Back to our young and dumb kids.

I would call them racists except they are too dumb to get it.

And I don’t have the time.

Every second I would spend trying to belittle and educate them would take away from amusing myself and quite frankly, I am more selfish than I am socially conscious.

With the exception of my kin, the youth of today are a sadly misguided bunch, raised by retards and fed the kind of silly shit that makes Bernie sound like a good idea.

Its like the whole ethanal debate. (Its a joke, and a dumb one at that.)

So, as I watch the two kids and sip my coffee, a question pops into my head.

Should I get another cup of coffee?

I mean, this one is almost empty and I am really not feeling that twitchy edge of caffeine that I like.

If you have enough caffeine, there is a natural twitch bordering on tourettes that, in my case, causes me to type horrible things, often against my will.

But it is important to have a hobby.

In the end, there is nothing to be done about the dipshits.

The are young and part of what they think is a much more accepting culture.

They will protest that they meant nothing by it.

Like Louis Armstrong said, “Some people, if they don’t know, you can’t tell them.”

Smart guy, played a wicked horn.

All that, and here is another reason to hate these kids.

Who the hell comes to Starbucks and gets a $5 juice packet.

You are in a legal crack house, kiddies.

So buy some goddam crack.

There is only one thing to do.

Get another cup of coffee.

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Posted by on September 30, 2016 in Uncategorized


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Your unsightly unmentionables

There is an ad on an internet site for Scrotox, botox for the testicles.

I have no idea what I was going write about prior to reading that.

Gone, all that is left is Scrotox.

Its disturbing, and nasty and has a tangible feeling of ewww to it.

The gist of the ad, once you click on it, is that there are men who feel bad or embarrassed by their wrinkly testicles.

Go back and read that last sentence again, I will wait here.

I am staring at my screen and shaking my head.

I’m not sure where to go from here.

Is this a thing?

I have never looked at my scroti in terms of their attractiveness.

What is worse, wrinkles or the sparse pubic hair?

If I get Scrotox, and I am not saying I will, will I need to get them waxed?

I mean, if they are going to be smooth, they should be hairless.

It makes for a better photo.

Pubic hair, no matter how much conditioner you use, will never behave.

Now, if you are going to take your scroti to the salon and to use the English term, “Smack your bitch up”, you should definitely have some head shots taken.

So off to the mall for some tacky head shots, maybe even with a big hair wig like your balls are a backup dancer in a White Snake video.

The alternative to waxing would be a comb-over, and that would be worse.

Anyone who saw your scroti with a comb over would see that as desperate, trying too hard.

It would be obvious that your balls are past their prime, no longer able to just roll out of bed, run your hand thru your hair and out the door.

You would have to buy “Product” for your hair, and that is a whole other thing.

I would recommend taking your nuts to a high end salon for a consultation.
Don’t fuck around here, get a professional consultation about testicular grooming products.

Just saying.

But, you ask, how do I know if my “Orbs” pass muster?

How can I tell if my “Makers” lack that “Come hither look” that the “Bits” of male models possess?

Its not like you can just wipe the out at happy hour and begin asking random strangers what they think.

That sounds like a recipe for getting gang tackled and held for observation.

Besides, what does your average Jane and Joe know about truly good looking “Bait”?

But who do you go to for that expert appraisal?

If you are 50 or older, I should think that Antique Road Show might be of help.

But you might have to be a little vague about things until you are sitting across from the expert and the cameras are rolling. (Also may end up in a gang tackle by the production staff.)

There is one suggestion that none of the ads seems to even allude to, and it seems to be so obvious.

Just keep in in your pants, no one wants to see that shit.


No BS.



Just don’t.

We good?


Posted by on September 23, 2016 in Uncategorized


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The Slut version of Forrest Gump

There is a difference between ignorant and dumb.

Ignorant has a connotation of lacking experience while dumb doesn’t get it, will never get it, experienced or not.

And then there is “Dignorumb”, a mix of the two.

Enter the girls, named for simplicity, Dumb, Dumber and Stupid.

Words come to mind as I listen these young ladies discuss life, the universe and someone named Carlo’s dick.

Dumber, it seems, has discovered sex.

Dumb and Stupid are more slut-sperienced than Dumber, but there is a Jerry Springer-esq trashiness to then that adds an almost charming ambiance to the affair.

The ladies, if you can call them that, are somewhere in their 20’s, but not far out of their teens.

Its like watching three conspirators talk about assassinating a president, except that the victim is a penis and – no, a Lincoln’s head exploding metaphor is just too easy.

I guess what ruins this whole situation is that there should be a dirty old man aspect to the listening in here, and there just isn’t.

I am sporting a big ol soft of over this one, which is a little disconcerting.

I should be at half mast, at least.

Its not sexy, just kind of sad, in a “Decline of Western Civilization” kind of way.

God, am I getting old.

Or maybe just too old to be dumb anymore.

Back when I was young, dumb and full of cum, my dick and I had adventures that would make Frodo Baggins flinch.

We tossed the “The one to rule them all” into the fires many a night and lived to tell the tale.

But this lacks that same excitement.

Dumb, Dumber and Stupid, not knowing any better, are excited as hell, but with that kind of semi-fake “Game show” excitement.

A gameshow with STD’s for prizes.

And the “Lightening Round” is illegal in the state of Georgia.

Now, and here is why I am calling Bullshit to Dumber’s claim that the legendary Carlo and his mythical schwantz.

I happen to know a girl who lost her virginity to a horse-like guy.

And she was seriously sore for a few days after.

At no time during Dumb, Dumber or Stupid’s conversation did any discussion of pain, swelling or soreness come up.

Which means that it either Carlo is not a horse from the waist down or he is and has no control and fouled his under-roos before the deed could be accomplished.

And that is as uncomfortable and gross as it sounds.

But happens all the time.

And yet, give it time, 20 years down the road, these unruly sluts will be someone’s wise and sweet mother.

God help us all.

There is a kind of an ugly equation at work here.

Take Dumb, Dumber and Stupid, add sex, minus common sense, and you have a frightening answer.

Here is a hint, it will raise your taxes and increase the head count at the Occupy rally 18 years from now.

But, at least my coffee is still hot.

No matter what else happens, they can’t take that away from me.

At least not yet.

Mmmmm coffee.

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Posted by on September 16, 2016 in Uncategorized


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Oh, the places you will go… on caffeine.

The odd things that stick in your mind and come back to you at the weirdest of times.

I sat down to write and realized I didn’t have a solid topic picked out.

So I closed my eyes.

And the circus began.

Three things hit me almost at once at random.

And I realized that they were so different from each other, that I was done, I had my topic.

Or topics, plural. 3 of them, in fact.

  1. Just a fleeting memory. I was bicycle commuting (Which sounds better than “I was riding my bike” like I am 5 years old or something.) thru a somewhat more ghetto-ish section of town. (That sounds racist, but I am seriously trying for it not to be.)

I pass a car lot that has loud hip hop/rap playing. A salesman in a shirt and tie leads a couple to see a car at the front of the dealership, on the street. Husband and a wife with a lot of “Junk in that trunk” (This is an important fact.)

Just then, the song changed. A serious twerking song started. Without missing a beat, the wife bent over and started shaking that ass. Also without missing a beat, the salesman began miming smacking that ass.

And the husband’s smile never faltered for a second.

And my first thought was, what a salesman.

A sales mentor told me years ago, as long as your customer is right there with you, in congruence, you can say/do pretty much whatever you want.

Same goes for ass smacking.

  1. The second scene takes us to far away Venice beach. A beautiful local in Southern California, a massive vacation spot. There are sights to see, people vacationing, absolutely stunning weather….

And the homeless. Venice and Santa Monica, among all the beach communities, encourages the homeless. The police are handcuffed, to use an ironic comparison, and basically leave the homeless alone.

There is a beautiful outdoor cafe, right on the boardwalk, a third of the tables in the cafe are indoors, with the remaining two-thirds out on the covered patio. The view is the boardwalk, the sand and the ocean. Truly scenic.

Street performers are plying their trade about 10 yards away. I have been watching a truly gifted guitar player/singer make his way thru covering most of Simon and Garfunkel’s best hits.

For some reason, I happen to look behind me and see a homeless guy making his way up the alley next to the cafe. It is either a homeless guy or a shabbily dressed grizzly. The hair/fur has not been cut recently if ever, and I am thankful that I am upwind. For some reason, despite my love of live performance, something about the homeless guy catches my eye. He just cleared the building and stopped right next to the wrought iron railing of the cafe. There is a well-monied couple sitting just on the other side of the railing. These are important people, you can tell by their dress and comportment. I don’t mean actually important, I mean they feel they are important. The key giveaway is when the guy signals the waiter, he snaps his fingers. He is either from New York or Europe, because that is the only place that kind of shit is not considered rude.

And then, the show begins. The Important couple does not seem to see the homeless guy, or are at least ignoring him. But, the homeless guy decides it is time to take a shit.

So, with no hesitation for his surroundings, he drops trow, squats and begins to shit. I can hear at least one grunt, but my mind is perfectly capable of making that up in the effort to enhance the moment.

And then, the true magic begins. The homeless guy wobbles a bit, like he is losing his balance, and reaches out with his right hand, and grabs the rail of the cafe, along with the back of the Important guy’s lightweight jacket. It pulls him back slightly. He peers over his shoulder and sees what is going on behind him.

And loses his shit, figuratively, compared to the literal one going on behind him.

The Important guy yells and tries to stand, but can’t because he is kind of pinned to the rail by our unwashed, defecating minstrel. The Important woman begins screaming, and you really cannot blame her, she has the straight on view of what is landing on the pavement.

The entire scene is tailor made for a movie starring Jim Carrey.

Enjoy your meal.

Welcome to Southern California.

  1. The final scene is a quick one. The title of this scene is, When is a Victim Not a Victim?

A mother and daughter are in line at Starbucks. The daughter is looking at yogurt and fresh fruit parfaits. Mom is just scowling for an unknown reason. The daughter picks out her selection and turns back to mom just as the spot in front of the cashier.

“Eating those will make you fat.” Mom says in a monotone bitch voice.

“Tough taking advice from a fat woman.” Daughter says in that same monotone as she walks past her.

Suck it, you belittling hypocritical bitch.


So much for a random sampling of the caffeinated thoughts of a true addict.

But at least the coffee is hot.

Mmmmmm coffee…


Posted by on September 9, 2016 in Uncategorized


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