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I can be dumb, but I’m not stupid.

Someone texted me this week and said I should write a blog about the Vegas Massacre.

Are you out of your fucking mind?

As it is, I get around 100 hate emails a month from people that take exception to the crap I trowel  out on this blog.

That is down from its heyday when I used to post every weekday.

There are some subjects that you don’t fuck around with.

Because writing a hate email is one thing, but you stoke that fire high enough and people begin to seek you out for the purpose of getting a pound of flesh.

And I like my pounds where they are.

Mass tragedies are a dicy thing to spin humorously.

Same thing with pedophiles.

I once knew a stand up comic who’s comedy was based on his level of drunkeness.

I went to one of his shows, and he was supposed to go on at 10pm, so he was pacing his drinking appropriately.

But, at 9:45pm, the bar owner said some friends had come in and were going on ahead of him.

My friend didn’t go on until 1am.

He could barely make it up the stairs to the stage.

What followed was the most vile, upsetting 10 minute spew of truly obscene pedophile jokes I have ever heard.

At the end of his set, the entire room was silent, except for the sound of a woman crying softly in the back.

Half the bar wanted to hold his arms so the other half could beat him with both fists.

It was an ugly night.

And that is how I view Vegas.

Don’t touch it unless I am prepared to talk my way out of an angry room that wants to gang stomp me as part of some sort of cosmic penance for my sins.

 

That being said, HOLY SHIT!

Its Friday the 13th.

And that has its own circus side show of terrifying shit going along with it.

I like to board up the windows on on Friday the 13th just on principal, just on the off chance that some sort of random Purge event erupts around my house. (Roaming gangs out for government sanctioned blood. That sort of thing.)

I see nothing unmanly about cowering behind barred doors with piss dribbling down my leg.

The vile things that happen on Friday the 13th are well documented, so the facts are on my side.

The biggest event that I could care less about, but did happen on the 13th was the shooting of Tupac.

So there you go.

Add that to the homeless guy outside Starbucks with the sign saying he needs money because “Raped by Weinstein, need money for therapy” and you have a bit of a bitch’s brew of evil going on today. (I gave the homeless guy a buck, by the way, for originality and for keeping up on current events. I appreciate dedication to craft.)

There is just something about this day that sets me off on an instinctive level.

On a gut level, I am firmly convinced that the world is out to get me.

I am even giving my coffee the stink eye.

So you KNOW its bad.

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Posted by on October 13, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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The love hate relationship

There is an arrogant charm to being a hypocritical shit.

There isn’t really a depth to my shallowness at this point.

Maybe, when I first started writing this blog, there was.

I might have felt an embarrassed flush if someone brought up a particularly heinous remark.

But now? I have no shame and pretty much take delight in the things that make most people cringe.

I will make up fact and polls and scientific findings, often for no reason other than to amuse myself.

You can call me out on it, but that is only going to make it worse.

I will laugh in your face and take the next hour to explain why you are the idiot.

Its like a moral anarchy that knows no boundary.

Thought in my head? (No matter how vile) Its on the page.

And it has caused a noticeable distance between some acquaintances and me.

And I didn’t say “friends” because I didn’t mean “Friends”.

Acquaintances fits.

And there is a part of me that, during those rare moments that I reflect with the innocence of a former alter boy, that I feel bad about it.

But then I move on and think of something evil about that person to justify the situation in a way that makes me the good guy.

As for friends, my true set of friends are a twisted bunch of fuckers.

Not only do they get it, there are a couple that feel the worst of the blog is much too tame.

Were they like that originally and we fell in together?

Or were we kids with diverse paths that fell in together due to geography and slowly warped each other?

Either way, here we are.

Moving on.

I find myself reading the hate mail again.

Like a heroin addict, I stayed clean for a few months, even shut down the email feature for the blog.

And they found me thru facebook.

They never missed a whiny beat.

And the email that set me down this path of reflection?

It was from one of the dedicated critics that was among the first to complain.

Tiny Mouse. You rotten bitch.

Tiny Mouse has about 60 cats and a retarded child and lives in New Zealand.

Why New Zealand? Probably to escape US Justice.

Animal rape is illegal in the US, always has been.

At least, that is my theory.

Tiny Mouse’s first email was over my use of the word “Retard”.

She maintains that it harms a child that cannot read in New Zealand if a blog from the US uses that word.

I have come to understand that she is retarded and her kid is most likely more normal by societal standards.

She also claims that a phrase that ignored all content around it was advocating violence towards cats.

She loves cats, I suspect in an unnatural way.

My response to her emails usually begin with a reply from me that is simply a photo of cat-themed road kill.

Its childish, and possibly a little beyond twisted, but it did accomplish my goal.

She lost her fucking mind.

She actually contacted my webhost and asked that the blog site be shut down.

I know this because tech support emailed me to let me know that they would not be honoring her request.

Thanks guys.

Fast forward to today.

Tiny Mouse sent me an email that talked about how she rarely reads the blog, but she did today. (She has written me almost 60 emails. I am ALL she reads.)

And she is going to stop reading me forever.

Boo fucking who.

I read that line in her email and got a chubby.

I think I even came a little bit.

I truly hope she stands by her principals on this one.

It will not happen, because she has sworn off the blog a few dozen times.

This blog is her meth, without the danger of losing her teeth.

Trust me, she will be back, probably because of this post.

I have mentioned the keywords.

“Retard”, “Cat rape”, “Roadkill”.

But I can still hope.

She needs me more than I need her.

She just doesn’t see that yet.

 
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Posted by on June 10, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Anybody dead yet?

Paraskevidekatriaphobia: Fear of Friday the 13th.

Excuse me while I shit myself sideways and die.

Its no secret that this day in particular tends to give me an immediate case of swampass.

And you people are READING it on Friday the 13th as if its nothing.

Well, dipshit, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but…

We’re all gonna die.

Look at the logic, for God’s sake.

There is ONLY ONE Friday the 13th this year, versus 3 last year.

This year has all of the power crammed into one day.

Think this is bullshit?

Anyone want to guess when the last year was that had only one Friday the 13th in it?

2001, the year of 9/11.

Ha!

Now, I know that half of you are ready to get into the panic room I have been building to ride out this evil storm and the rest, morons really, are skeptical.

Anybody ever see the movie the Purge?

That is exactly what is going on.

Anarchy, blood in the streets, dogs and cats- living together. MASS HYSTERIA! (Name the movie and you get sprinkles.)

And the twisted part of it all is that I am forgoing my time honored tradition of huddling in the dark and crying like a little girl for the day.

I will be thumbing my nose at the beast and going hiking.

There is an excellent chance with will be the last blog ever written as I will be dead at the bottom of a cliff by 9am tomorrow, both legs broken and gang-raped by bigfoot and the chubacabra.

I was going to say that there are worse ways to die, but I can’t think of a worse way to die right now, that sounds pretty F-ing horrible.

But, I have been bitten pretty badly by the hiking bug and I am heading out every day off I have.

Like a healthy form of meth, I am pretty deep into the addiction.

It is better for your body than meth and you never have to blow anyone in an alley for a trail.

So I’ve got that going for me.

Turns out, that after a lifetime spent growing up in southern California, I suddenly found out there are amazing trails all over the place.

And it may be the cheapest hobby on the day to day.

Decent shoes are a must, along with something to hold water and food, hiking poles are nice, shade hat and sunglasses.

But you can piece it all together on the cheap and as long as you have the free time, you can go binge on your addiction all you like.

I will get sick of it eventually, but for right now, I am loving it.

But hiking on Friday the 13th has that extra edge of masochism to it that makes it pretty exciting.

I wonder what its like to die in a landslide?

Without coffee?

Now THAT is scary.

Fuck it, I am staying home.

If anyone needs me, they will find me in my panic room, sipping coffee and crying like a little girl. (Possibly masturbating, but this is a don’t ask/don’t tell blog.)

My condolences.

 
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Posted by on May 13, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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The little asshole that could.

There is a fine art to procrastination.

Much like sleeping in, its awesome, right up until everything goes South and the situation turns on you like prison rape, uncomfortable leaving a lingering awkwardness.

And that brings us to this morning.

The blog, when I am being diligent and writing it ahead of time, is usually scheduled to post at 0500 Pacific time every Friday.

Unless I have Friday off, then I write it on the fly while at my favorite breakfast spot.

So what happened today?

Me, is what happened today.

I am not seated in my favorite breakfast spot, I am at work, just barely 15 minutes early, desperately pounding out words for you ungrateful bastards.

Speak of the devil and he appears, my phone just buzzed with a text from one of the blog devoted.

“No blog today? You lazy fuck.”

Not to turn this into an angry backlash, but when was the last time any of you whiny bitches scribbled anything other than a complaint for me?

And lets get one thing straight, I do not work for you.

You did not pay for this.

I did not take your sister to prom and do barnyard shit to her. (Although I probably know who did.)

And while people only value what they pay for, they piss and moan like old women about free stuff.

The sick sadistic side of this is that there is an evil side of me that does enjoy making people upset.

I have crawled around on the inside of my own head long enough to know that I am at peace with my inner asshole, that it really doesn’t spill out into the rest of my life in a detrimental way, and therefore I like to encourage the little guy.

Now, true, he is a little spoiled, my inner asshole is, and tends to be disruptive, but he is mine, therefore, I am of the opinion that he is brilliant and beautiful.

A lot of people don’t get it because they don’t have one of their own.

As a society, we have been systematically beating down our own asshole urges to the point that it only comes out under extreme stress or is alcohol induced.

And that is never pretty.

The repressed asshole is an over the top diva, that once she makes her entrance, all hell breaks loose.

Bar fights, pregnancies, STD’s, lost jobs, and family feuds, all are possible when dealing with the repressed asshole.

So take a tip from me, I started taking my IA (Inner Asshole) out for some quality time, just the two of us, back when I first started this blog.

Liberating is a word that comes to mind, so does indulgent, but cathartic is there also.

Free your mind, and your asshole will follow.

 
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Posted by on April 15, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Peeing is tough enough.

I don’t like being mad-dogged at the urinal.

Let me pee in peace.

There is kind of an unspoken etiquette at the men’s room urinals.

It is a lot like being in prison.

For the most part, guys are convinced that a possible prison rape seen could happen at any moment.

Its a tense atmosphere for most guys. Except the guys that are in the men’s room, looking for love.

Me? I don’t need any new friends.

That being said, could you look lovingly into someone elses eyes for 2 minutes?

No offense. This is a don’t ask, don’t tell. I don’t ask because I don’t want to be told.

Let me set the scene.

There are four stand up urinals against the wall, with the door on the right.

If I take the one 2nd from the left, that leaves one between me and the wall and two between me and the door.

If you come in, please take the one furthest from me, it causes the least trouble.

If you take the one next to me, on my right with the door, you will interrupt my urinating as I wonder if there is an attack coming.

And god forbid you take the one between me and the wall. At this point, I am done urinating and I KNOW you have an agenda.

And I don’t need to have my urinating interrupted. I am at that age where any issue with the flow has me worrying about my prostate. You have to watch that sucker like a hawk.

Back to the urinal.

I realize how all of this sounds. There are some of you screeching “Homophobe!”

And?

I think a little fear is good for you.

So is guilt.

Keeps you on your toes, your head in the game.

I was raised Catholic, so the whole fear and guilt thing goes with it and I get that.

We keep getting away from the urinal and I am starting to think that it is an ok thing.

Urinals smell horrible.

Ladies don’t realize how bad men’s rooms are.

I always refer to them as the Monkey Hut.

Like at the zoo.

Shit on the walls is unpleasant, but not all that unexpected.

Men will pee on the seat, on the floor, the wall.

You name it.

I once read a news article about a man who had never used a public toilet. He spent a huge amount of time travelling from work to home to use the bathroom.

The more I think about that one, the more I think that it would be awesome.

It would be clean.

It would smell nice.

And no one would maddog you mid-pee.

 
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Posted by on October 14, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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