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Before the ball drops…

You know I have to get the last word.

I couldn’t let the year end without running at the mouth one last time.

New Year’s Eve is coming and it is time to lie like a politician to the one person we should never lie to.

Ourselves.

New Years is the time that we trot out our completely unrealistic resolutions and parade them around like a temporary trophy wife for all to see.

And they last as long as the trophy wife does and will desert you every bit as fast as if she found out you got no money.

At least you won’t have a lingering STD when the resolution is gone.

At least physically.

Mentally?

Anybody’s guess.

I have seen people pillory themselves like one of the Marquis de Sade’s regulars over not losing that 10 pounds from the holidays.

In reality, the only people that truly give a crap how much you weigh will be your pallbearers, everything else is just in your head.

At my Great Uncle Jack’s funeral, one of my cousins was struggling to hold up his end.

In frustration, he looked down at the casket.

“Jesus Christ, Jack!”

Hilarious.

First time I had ever witnessed someone berating a corpse.

I try to keep my resolutions either ridiculously easy to pull off, or impossible to the point that no one thinks its serious at all.

Here are my easy resolutions:

  1. Don’t get arrested New Years Eve. (Much easier since I quit power drinking.)
  2. Go to the gym. (I am going to the gym now, so I win by doing the norm.)
  3. Be nicer to the family. (Nicer is so hard to put a definition to, I can do what I want.)

And here are my impossibles, (Or perhaps Deplorables)

  1. Not be mean to people. (Not breathing would be easier. I am not a real fan of people.)
  2. Get taller. (If I knew how to pull this one off it would have happened decades ago.
  3. Masturbate less. (Don’t look at me, you’ll ruin the mood.)

I have finally come to this.

I hope next year doesn’t suck.

For those that claim that this year sucked, consider the alternative.

It could have really sucked.

Some people are pissed because a celebrity they liked died, or a politician they didn’t like won, or blah blah blah.

In reality, not a goddam thing actually went wrong with your year.

Happiness is a perception.

So if you are not happy with how this year was?

Get off your ass and get in the game.

Make next year a better one, by your definition.

And for fucks sake! Stop posting shit on Facebook, it makes you look like a douche.

Happy New Year.

Bite me.

 

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Posted by on December 30, 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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The sex ed penguins.

Went to another reunion, and it wasn’t even mine.

Not entirely certain how I keep ending up at other people’s reunions, but never making it to my own.

It can’t be because I don’t want to go, I mean, obviously I enjoy these types of odd soiree.

Maybe its that sense of not officially being eligible to be there.

Breaking even a basic rule can be fun.

Most people don’t, but this falls right in line with my Catholic School upbringing.

Catholic school is a bizarre form of psycho/sexual abuse that few people come away from unscathed.

I don’t mean being touched by a priest, that is a separate kind of crime, I am talking about the legal form of mental abuse. (Which I still don’t get. I mean, at age 9, I was HOT. You could have bounced a quarter off my ass. Nobody laid a finger on me.)

Sex ed, when taught by angry sexually frustrated nuns to angry sexually frustrated young boys, becomes a harrowing tale of the blind leading the blind.

The girls, in crisp white blouses, plaid skirts and patent leather shoes, were herded into one room, and a mangy group of sloppy boys was herded into the other.

The girls, I found out later, had a four hour lecture about how evil and vile boys were.

The boys, had a different afternoon.

Watching 4 hours of the most grisly VD movies ever made has a peculiar effect on the adolescent mind.

It had the same effect as the Reefer Madness films had from the 60’s.

We didn’t believe a word of them.

First off, masturbation did not cause blindness or hairy palms.

If it did, we would all be tapping white canes and look a lot like werewolves in school uniforms.

And I would be the Alpha Wolf.

Some of us discovered things earlier than others.

The funniest part was, non of us understood what they were talking about.

Self abuse? Who would abuse themselves, that sounds nasty.

Play with myself? Sure, who doesn’t?

There was 2 kids I went to school with that went to the bathroom a few times before recess, spent all of recess there, 1 time before lunch, all of lunch, and a few times before school got out.

In retrospect, it is possible that they were trying to rip it out by the root.

Like I always say, its important to have a hobby.

One kid stopped bringing lunch as eating cut down on his private time.

And non of us went blind. (Ironically, I am wearing glasses right now.

On a side note, I may be one of the hairier men you will meet this side of Little Armenia in Southern California.

Maybe something to that.

For the most part, we all survived the Catholic school version of Sex Ed.

But, much like returning soldiers who have been thru hell, we all bear the mental scars of it all.

The mildest side effects are those of us with the standard sexual kinks. Oral fixations, promiscuity, that sort of thing.

The worst are those that are the serious deviants. Gimp suits, scat fetishes, barnyard animals, and it gets worse.

And the world keeps turning.

And the nuns keep talking.

And the circle of life continues unimpeded.

 
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Posted by on May 20, 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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