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Monthly Archives: March 2015

Keep it in your pants.

Ok, so things are going to get a little awkward here.

Too many trigger warnings to list here. (If you understand that statement, fuck off and get over it.)

And I don’t mean like – Running into your ex in a restaurant with their new partner awkward.

I mean like – trapped in an elevator with the uncle/priest that touched you at age 12 kind of awkward.

Here is the story as we know it.

A 19 year old man walked into a walmart, took a stuffed horse from the shelf, headed on over to the comforter aisle in the Housewares department and proceeded to masturbate using the stuffed horse, came all over it, and then put it back on the shelf.

Lets break that down.

A 19 year old man walked into a walmart, was greeted by a senior citizen, headed over to a clearance section near the Gardening department. All of this is perfectly legal and not out of the ordinary. No blood no foul at this point.

He picks up a stuffed horse from the clearance rack and heads to Housewares. Minor red flags, but nothing serious. He’s a little old for stuffed animals, but maybe its his niece/nephew’s birthday and he needs a gift.

He hunkers down in the comforter aisle and whips out his junk. WARNING WILL ROBINSON, WARNING! I hate to say it because of the place it puts me here but if you do make the call to get your freak on in a walmart, the comforter aisle is where you want to be. Some people may say the bathroom, but that can only be because they have never seen a Walmart bathroom. An underlying odor of aged urine and shit permeates the air. There is ALWAYS piss on the floor and usually shit on the walls. Its like the monkey hut at the zoo.

Out of 5 news agencies that reported on this, not one says exactly how he screwed the horse. Did he cut an anus into the horse and sodomize it? Cut a hole in the mouth? Was it pliable enough to wrap it around his dick? Don’t shake your head at me, these are legitimate questions!

Anyway, SOMEHOW, he finished and came all over the stuffed horse. Like a plush toy bukkaki scene from a Japanese porno. In fact, I am willing to bet there is a Japanese website dedicated to plush toy bukkaki. They have websites for everything else under the freak sun, why not this?

And, for me, this is where it gets weird. How could it not be weird up till now, you ask? Nothing shocks me when it comes to guys and masturbation. As a species, men are masturbatory freaks. You don’t know the half of it.

But this is why it is weird. HE PUTS IT BACK. He didn’t drop it like Michael Corleone dropping the gun after he shot Sollozzo and walks out, he puts it back on the clearance rack.  That means he wanted it on display for others to see. This hits a new freak high water mark that is tough to match. I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.

And, he did this at 3pm. Right when the kids are getting out of school.

Where are the over zealous cops that get caught on camera beating the shit out of someone when you need them? (They are a minority, but they do exist. I want to use them for good.)

I think the world would be a better place if this guy lost a few teeth and “accidentally” fell down a few flights of steps. Just saying.

The only thing I can think of is that the last time I was at a Walmart, I was stunned by the sheer numbers of unaccompanied kids running wild without a parent in site.

Think twice, you never know when the freaks might decide that the plush toys are just not doing it for them anymore, and decide to take your kid for a spin.

You can ignore this warning if you like, but the writing is on the wall.

Or at least smeared all over the stuffed horse.

 
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Posted by on March 27, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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I reserve the right to be a dick.

I get hate mail from time to time.

The funny thing is, 95% of the hate mail comes from the same people, week in week out.

The emails all start more or less the same, a claim that they rarely read the blog, this despite the fact that they email EVERY week.

And its not even original stuff, its the same whiny-ass stuff every week.

I would say like a broken record, but its not enough. A broken record that lives alone and has over a dozen cats and not one blood relative that is willing to talk to them.

The reason I am bringing any of this up, is that one of them, a mewling little soundbox from Australia that goes by the dumb name of TinyMouse, asked a question that you think all of them would ask.

Why are you so rude when you respond to my email?

Let me explain.

For a long time, my first response was “Fuck off”. Short, sweet, to the point.

And then, like so many things, I got tired of it.

So the reply emails became a blog post all their own.

Just really obscene and insulting in a personal, mean spirited way.

Sometimes I will cut and paste obscene pictures from online into the email. (Is that admissable in court? No clue. I don’t think its harrassment, they are all responses.)

To me, I would not email any asshole again if I got this sort of response.

However, TinyMouse has gotten over 3-4 dozen of this type of email and still emails me every week to chastise me. And the phrase “Belligerent cis-male” is always included. (I always counter that with “Cat rapist” which seems to flip her out, she has a lot of cats.)

And yes, there is a sane part of me that realizes how childish this is.

However, the logical me gave it up a long time ago. The 800lbs gorilla that is the childish me has been running the show. And he’s a dick.

There has to be a psychology 101 textbook that can lay out the basics of sociopathic blogging, but I have yet to run across it.

And now, allow me to insert something different here.

Like a mental sorbet to cleanse the cerebral pallet.

I just visited the bathroom and someone came out of the men’s room just as I walked up.

AND HE STANK LIKE SHIT ON A HOT DAY!

Homeless, but that foamy neck kind of unwashed homeless.

God, I miss Manhattan Beach homeless. They had standards.

Needless to say, I am not in Manhattan Beach.

And it shows.

Back to vile email.

As a group, the critics of the blog are a whiny bunch of Chatty Cathy dolls that pull their own internet strings non-stop.

Its as annoying as it is humorous.

Much like playing chess for money with a retarded, crackhead, welfare mother, its only funny for the first few minutes. After that, its just sad and really annoying. (And if that last, carefully crafted sentence doesn’t get those fucktard’s panties in a twist, I don’t know my shit.)

You have to wonder what it is about obsessively reading and criticising a barely read blog that does it for this bunch of shit wads.

Activism should involve an element of chance that you will make a difference.

They really need to piss on the fire and call in the dogs, because they lost this fight way before they started.

But, like I always say, its important to have a hobby.

And, their hobby is to point out social improprieties to the literary malcontents of the blogospere.

Just like my hobby is to fuck with them.

Works for me.

Bite me.

 
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Posted by on March 20, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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The Bitch is Back

We’re all gonna die.

These things happen.

Simple fact.

Probably soon.

Today is Friday the 13th, second month in a row.

Do you have any idea how rare that is?

Its like a unicorn being gang raped by a leprechaun and Santa Claus, and they all have winning lottery tickets

I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

I don’t remember the last time there was Friday the 13th two months in a row.

I have had a few people tell me I am being superstitious and paranoid.

Hey, I don’t make the rules.

To paraphrase, Hate the game, not the scared player hiding under his bed.

There are those that say that Friday the 13th is just a day like any other day.

Yeah, and there are those that are against vaccinations too.

Perfect example, I got out of bed on Friday the 13th last month and immediately slammed my baby toe into the dresser.

Need I say more?

I can hear the doubters right now “That proves nothing. “

Fine, I’ll say more.

Not more than 5 minutes later, I got a papercut.

[Microphone drop.]

I NEVER get paper cuts, I have skin like a lizard.

If you still doubt me even in the face of empirical evidence, here is the final piece of proof.

I lost my car keys. LOST MY CAR KEYS! Are you bastards even listening?!?!

So for the second Friday in the 13th in a row? Screw it, I am not going out of the house today.

I have thought long and hard, employed rational thought, common sense and a little immigrant wisdom, and here is what I have come up with.

Drinking coffee and hiding under the bed.

Go ahead and laugh, but when the land around us is a charred pile of rubble, I will be probably still be hiding out, having coffee.

Will there be Starbucks in the wastelands of the future? Magic 8-ball says it seems likely.

God forbid I have to make my own, then I know we’re screwed.

Did the movie Mad Max teach us nothing?

For those not in the know, Mad Max was Mel Gibson’s first movie. (This was back before he became a misogynistic, anti-semitic, racist who evidently didn’t know that the red light is blinking when you are being recorded. See also Donald Sterling.)

And it was a low budget post apocalyptic car and violence fest set in Australia.

What did we learn from it?

First, without franchise coffee houses, the people descend into anarchy and join punk rock biker gangs.

Second, when the shit goes down, Australia is the last place you wanna be.

Although I hear Syndey is lovely in season.

Could the apocalypse be moved to Southern California?

The weather is better and there is a Starbucks on every corner.

It would make the wasteland much more pleasant.

So, that is what today is all about.

Hiding, drinking coffee and trying to figure out which post-apocalyptic coffee houses will have wifi.

Thank God for Keurig, the pod coffee machine.

It makes an acceptable cup.

Trust me, you don’t want my drip coffee.

If the coffee depends on me, I inadvertently make it strong enough to give a meth-head the shakes.

That is not enough of an ability to make me a warlord of the coming wasteland, but it does have me stockpiling Keurig.

To sum up, Coffee, nuclear holocaust, Australia, and support the troops.

We all on the same page now?

And, if you are stupid enough to go outside on Friday the 13th, despite all my warnings, don’t come running to me when all hell breaks loose.

If you are set upon by rabid dogs, gangs of Chicago children (Like a finishing school for murderers that place) or a Jehova witness stops you to force a copy of the Watchtower on you, you had it coming.

And if anyone is looking for me, I will be under the bed.

Nursing my coffee like a Canadian baby on a United Airlines flight. (Google it, people! Do I have to do everything for you?)

 
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Posted by on March 13, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Redemption

Perhaps I have become jaded.

I have talked about too much, written about too much, offended -maybe- too much.

And there’s nothing left.

Seriously, after almost 600 posts written for this ungodly beast of a blog, I think I have seen it all.

Maybe its time to hang it up, call it a day, piss on the fire and call in the dogs.

Its been a pleasure, but this will be my last-

Wait a minute.

I forgot about what I saw this morning.

I was taking a bike ride to my favorite breakfast place.

And then I saw him.

Homeless? Of course, we’ve met, right?

But the first homeless with Down’s Syndrome?

Like a “Special” unicorn. Rare doesn’t even begin to describe it.

And before you hate mail gangbang me en masse, I am the only one of thousands who passed him and I stopped.

And brought him coffee and McMuffin.

So bite me.

Both cheeks, and what the hell, crack too.

Be my guest.

His name is Kevin.

He laughs a lot.

He has family, but they “Don’t like me.”

As he talked, and he liked to talk, I began to take stock of the physical cues.

Meth is his drug of choice.

That realization washed over me like a wave of different emotions.

Outrage, anger, confusion, desolation, you name it.

And finally, acceptance.

It sucks, its screwed up.

But it is what it is.

Jaded rotten shit that I am, this little scenario still pried $20 out of my stingy wallet.

Hey, I’m an asshole, not a heartless asshole.

(Plus, I later called a church I know that does homeless outreach. They are on it. I will deny this later if you ask.)

I am golden.

I hung out for the better part of an hour.

We talked, well, Kevin talked, lonely guy, and laughed.

It was as nice as it was heartbreaking.

As I left, Kevin claimed he was going to go get another McMuffin.

Its 50-50 that McMuffin means meth.

Call me a cynic, but ask any drug counselor and they will explain this one to you.

So I rode my bike and sorted.

I spend a little too much time in my head.

Not in that healthy “Dealing with my emotions” way.

More like the book “Flowers in the attic” kind of way.

(Think of children locked away in the attic.)

Scary place to be sometimes.

Another hour of pedaling and I have come to this:

Life is what it is. Live it, enjoy what you can, survive the bad, and be happy.

Most wisdom breaks down to this.

See you next week.

 
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Posted by on March 6, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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