1) Learn the robot. I mean it this time. Said I’d do it in 2005, didn’t get it done, got scared in 2006 and backed away from it. But guess what? By this time in 2007, I will be poppin n lockin.
2) Go on an actual date with a woman. And by this I don’t mean "show up at a bar, wait for a girl to get shitfaced enough to blow me in the bathroom while I scream about the new gotdammed internet jukeboxes, and lets me cum in her hair." Actually, scratch that….that would abe fucking awesome. Forget the date.
3) Track down the mf who invented pineapple and ham pizza, club him to death with a baby seal.
4) Have a baby seal sausages cookout.
5) Spread the word to every girl I know, see or meet that you know what, yeah, you DO look fat.
7) If I don’t start softening my stool soon, I’m gonna be in serious trouble.
9) Invent a toothpaste that tastes like pussy. But not great pussy; I don’t wanna spend all fucking day brushing my dick.
10) Learn Chinese. Seriously, those fuckers are up to something.
12) I’d like to walk into a room and receive a long, loud slow-clap from the crowd. Just once.
13) For having a humungous dick.
14) With Jessica Alba attached to it.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Thursday, December 28, 2006
"Working Vacation"
I love how now they list Bush’s vacation as a "working vacation." Isn’t that pathetic? He’s such a fucking loser, no-count president that he has to insist "seriously guys, I’m gonna be working! Camon, I mean it! I’ll keep the fax turned on, I swear!!" cause he knows we’re all rolling our eyes at what a fucking goof-off he is. Christ. Wonder what The Decider will come up during this Brush Clearing Season. Hey, maybe as he’s clearing brush and "mulling things over", he can get another visit from God, like when God told him to invade Iraq?
GOD: Hey, uh…George, it’s me.
W: Whoa! The brush is talking to me!! It's a Christmas Rapture Miracle!! I KNEW the Jews were wrong!! Hello, Brush!!
GOD: George it’s me. God. In heaven.
W: Mr. Reagan? Oh my gosh, it’s you! Why, I-
GOD: It’s me, dumbass!! God!! G-O-D!!
W: oooohh, yeah. Hey!
GOD: Listen, could you stop running around saying that I told you to invade the Middle East? You’re embarrassing me.
W: But…but you did!! You said "G-Rock, you need to invade Iraq and spread democracy throughout the Middle East!" By the way, G-Rock is the nickname you gave me. Hey, did you know our names both start with the letter "G"? wow!
GOD: Okay, first of all, I never gave you a nickname. Period.
W: Sure you did. G-rock!
GOD: No. I didn’t. You know how I know this?
W: Did…did God tell you?
GOD: Because I’ve never spoken to you!!
W: Sure you did. I was clearing a bunch of brush and you spoke to me. And you said that I was doing the work of Jesus, and he’d come back and join our fight against the gays. And New Yorkers.
GOD: Why on earth would I tell you to invade the region that includes the Holy Land, and then turn it into a democracy like yours, a government which was built upon the very idea of not including, you know, ME? Why would I recommend that, of all things?
W: Just like the Bible said, and I quote: "Were I whence I be, when I whence to came, glory to all upon where were I whence."
GOD: And do you really think Jesus, if I did send him back, would hang out with YOU guys?
W: I had Dick make some bumper stickers: "Jesus Loves Me – Just ask Him, He’s Right Here!"
GOD: You didn’t notice that in the Bible, Jesus tended to hang out with the poor, the diseased, the outcasts?
W: Well, in the beginning, sure. I just assumed that buy the end, he was rich and cool, running things, right? I mean, look who HIS dad is!
GOD: You…didn’t read the whole thing?
W: Dude.
GOD: Riiiight…listen, anyways, like I said. Please stop telling people I’m behind this mess, okay?
W: Can I tell people you came up with the Dubai Port deal?
GOD: You’re not a smart man, George.
W: No. No I’m not
GOD: But you do keep things interesting.
W: Hey, can you tell which one is Mary-Kate and which one is Ashley?
GOD: Goodbye, George
W: You mean "G-Rock"!
GOD: And quit praying for "Weekend at Bernies III." Ain’t gonna happen.
W: G-Rock!
GOD: Bye
Friday, December 22, 2006
Eugene Smith
When I was a kid, my big dream was to score a 1,000 points in my high school basketball career. Thousands of hours in my backyard gunning the rock I'd dream of scoring my thousandth point on a snowy February night in my high school gym, then go play ball for UVa, where I'd hang out with Jeff Lamp and Lee Raker. Well. Even if they were 13 years before me. But hey, I was a kid!
When I was coming through there were 4 1000 points scorers in the history of my high school: Jerome Whitaker, Darryl Hammond, Alfred Johnson (saw him get his 1000th) and Eugene Smith. To me, these were the most hallowed of giants, I pictured them as did whichever knight it was from Camelot that as a boy dreamed of knights as they were big, beautiful angels in white gliding across a field. I pictured these guys spending their lives in a club somewhere, drinking soda and patting themselves on the back in another world.
I never did get that thousandth point, but I was thinking this morning about Eugene Smith, who finished his career with 1,004 points. Just got into the hallowed club. I don't know Eugene Smith, never met him, he graduated from my high school I think in 1974. Ish. I knew of him only through old yearbook sports sections I'd memorize. Sometime when I was a junior, 1988-1989, someone discovered that there was a mistake, that Smith had been credited with 14 points from a scrimmage. 990 points. Goodbye hallowed club. Looking back, I have no idea how anyone discovered this; in my high school and district I'm shocked they kept track of old scores, much less individual scoring from 15 years back. I remember how sad I felt for Eugene, how devestated he must have been when he heard the news. As I'm thinking right now, I hope he never did find out. Knowing what I do now, odds are he was probably flipping burgers at a BK Lounge when the mistake was discovered. Maybe being a 1000-point scorer was the peak for him, maybe he thought about it a lot. Maybe not, maybe he went on to become a doctor, I have no idea. Why would someone dig up something like that and expose it? This was small-town, nothing ball; it's not like discovering 20 years later that Laettner didn't get the ball off in time to beat Kentucky.
Anyways, just was thinking about it this morning for some reason. Poor guy. A great achievement, found a decade and a half later to be erroneous through no fault of his own, wonder if he knew and if it had an affect on him. Ah well.
Course, if he stumbles on Xmastime and that's how he finds out I'll never forgive myself!!
When I was coming through there were 4 1000 points scorers in the history of my high school: Jerome Whitaker, Darryl Hammond, Alfred Johnson (saw him get his 1000th) and Eugene Smith. To me, these were the most hallowed of giants, I pictured them as did whichever knight it was from Camelot that as a boy dreamed of knights as they were big, beautiful angels in white gliding across a field. I pictured these guys spending their lives in a club somewhere, drinking soda and patting themselves on the back in another world.
I never did get that thousandth point, but I was thinking this morning about Eugene Smith, who finished his career with 1,004 points. Just got into the hallowed club. I don't know Eugene Smith, never met him, he graduated from my high school I think in 1974. Ish. I knew of him only through old yearbook sports sections I'd memorize. Sometime when I was a junior, 1988-1989, someone discovered that there was a mistake, that Smith had been credited with 14 points from a scrimmage. 990 points. Goodbye hallowed club. Looking back, I have no idea how anyone discovered this; in my high school and district I'm shocked they kept track of old scores, much less individual scoring from 15 years back. I remember how sad I felt for Eugene, how devestated he must have been when he heard the news. As I'm thinking right now, I hope he never did find out. Knowing what I do now, odds are he was probably flipping burgers at a BK Lounge when the mistake was discovered. Maybe being a 1000-point scorer was the peak for him, maybe he thought about it a lot. Maybe not, maybe he went on to become a doctor, I have no idea. Why would someone dig up something like that and expose it? This was small-town, nothing ball; it's not like discovering 20 years later that Laettner didn't get the ball off in time to beat Kentucky.
Anyways, just was thinking about it this morning for some reason. Poor guy. A great achievement, found a decade and a half later to be erroneous through no fault of his own, wonder if he knew and if it had an affect on him. Ah well.
Course, if he stumbles on Xmastime and that's how he finds out I'll never forgive myself!!
Eat the Poor
Fairly stunning article I stumbled upon in the Snoop Dog cover of Rolling Stone by economist Paul Krugman. I knew the gap between the super-rich and the “regular people” was getting wider, but this article really lays out how absurd it has become. Quote that amidst all the numbers really jumped out at me:
“Lately, however, we have experience a death of outrage.”
For three+ years now I’ve been screaming re: where the fuck is this country’s outrage? False wars, flat-out lying by our “leaders”, rigged elections, gas prices out of control for years, corporate welfare destroying hard-working peoples lives and we can’t be bothered to even get a little miffed. “Oh well” we shrug. The piece de resistance of our incredible lack of giving a shit being, of course, re-electing the administration in 2004. Things had gotten awful, but we just weren’t satisfied until we had driven ourselves COMPLETELY into the ground, right? I’ve spent years thinking what is it going to take for us to finally say enough is enough?
“But Xmastime", you say in the voice of Craig “Ironhead” Heyward from those soap commercials (R.I.P), “we DID stand up during the 2006 elections!”
Well, that’s great and all, but let’s remember that after 6 years of lying, years of Americans dying because of sheer incompetence and hubris, years of being screwed by these fuckwads who don’t even PRETEND to not be laughing at us anymore it was Mark Foley and the other silly fucking scandals the Republicans found themselves drowning in that finally made us chagrined, FINALLY made us think hey, waaaaait a minute.... We’ve become a country that doesn’t mind being screwed and pissed on by the ultra-rich as long as they’re cheating on their wives with high-priced female escorts instead of other men. What is it finally going to take for us to be outraged enough to fucking do something about it? We trot out cameras to film Cindy Sheehan and let the GOP treat her as if she's the devil, she must be CRAAAAAAAZY, unhinged! but thats ONE person that has stood up in protest, ONE person out of 300 million Americans, and we've let her be treated like a punchline. We should be ashamed of ourselves.
I’m not gonna go crazy here, I don't want this to be about the daily furious rantngs of Xmastime, the article should shock you enough. The rich are geting richer, the poor are getting poorer and we seem to be eating it up with a spoon.
Ps – yes, I know it being in Rolling Stone may detract from it’s credibility. I can understand that, think what you will, but I’ve linked Paul Krugman’s wikipedia bio here if you need a little assurance.
“Lately, however, we have experience a death of outrage.”
For three+ years now I’ve been screaming re: where the fuck is this country’s outrage? False wars, flat-out lying by our “leaders”, rigged elections, gas prices out of control for years, corporate welfare destroying hard-working peoples lives and we can’t be bothered to even get a little miffed. “Oh well” we shrug. The piece de resistance of our incredible lack of giving a shit being, of course, re-electing the administration in 2004. Things had gotten awful, but we just weren’t satisfied until we had driven ourselves COMPLETELY into the ground, right? I’ve spent years thinking what is it going to take for us to finally say enough is enough?
“But Xmastime", you say in the voice of Craig “Ironhead” Heyward from those soap commercials (R.I.P), “we DID stand up during the 2006 elections!”
Well, that’s great and all, but let’s remember that after 6 years of lying, years of Americans dying because of sheer incompetence and hubris, years of being screwed by these fuckwads who don’t even PRETEND to not be laughing at us anymore it was Mark Foley and the other silly fucking scandals the Republicans found themselves drowning in that finally made us chagrined, FINALLY made us think hey, waaaaait a minute.... We’ve become a country that doesn’t mind being screwed and pissed on by the ultra-rich as long as they’re cheating on their wives with high-priced female escorts instead of other men. What is it finally going to take for us to be outraged enough to fucking do something about it? We trot out cameras to film Cindy Sheehan and let the GOP treat her as if she's the devil, she must be CRAAAAAAAZY, unhinged! but thats ONE person that has stood up in protest, ONE person out of 300 million Americans, and we've let her be treated like a punchline. We should be ashamed of ourselves.
I’m not gonna go crazy here, I don't want this to be about the daily furious rantngs of Xmastime, the article should shock you enough. The rich are geting richer, the poor are getting poorer and we seem to be eating it up with a spoon.
Ps – yes, I know it being in Rolling Stone may detract from it’s credibility. I can understand that, think what you will, but I’ve linked Paul Krugman’s wikipedia bio here if you need a little assurance.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Marah Xmas
Fuck Trump
Good for Rosie. While in the past years I had thought of The Donald as amusing, recently I’ve begun to be creeped out by him. What kind of real wheeler-n-dealer in the world of business would be SO proud/in love with his own tv show (in which he stars)? I mean, doesn’t he have more important things to obsess about if he’s such a playa? I don’t see Rupert Murdoch or Bill Gates prancing about in retarded reality shows. And then these classes he’s been “teaching” at the Learning Annex in which, according to the commercials, the main lesson is “take chances! Roll the dice!!” Which is great advice.if you were sitting on gazillions of dollars given to you by your dad and his buddies. "Going for it" when you've got billions of dollars at your disposal to succeed or fail with is different than having to decide whether or not to invest your life savings/nest egg. Thanks for the advice, dumbass. As useful as my old riff about when weathermen say to beat the heat, stay inside with your air conditioning pumping. Useless.
But last week I got a whiff of reekiness when he actually called a press conference to announce he’d be deciding if Miss America could keep her crown. What? Why would this have to be made public unless he actually did decide to cut her loose? One thing if he calls a press conference to say that he was firing her, sorry, tuff luck she blew it. But to announce to the world that he was gonna think about it for a while so we could wait on the edge of our seats, all the while embarrassing this young girl is (I hope) the height of his arrogance and desperate need for attention. Unreal. And then we’re supposed to pat him on the back and shake our heads “what a great guy! Giving the girl a second chance!” Fuck you. I only wish she had told him to go fuck himself, a la my dreams listed here (#6). Rosie’s right, and the fact that he would IMMEDIATELY grab a camera and basically hurl childish, personal insults directed at her weights shows who we’re dealing with. Fucking douchebag.
On a related side-note, we need to stop declaring that all these young celeb superstars have drinking problems. Lindsay has been going to AA, Miss America is going to rehab, and within the first 4 episodes of The Real World 2 out of the 7 roommates have had to admit they have a “problem.” Fucking please. Lindsay et al run around town cause they’re young and rich and happen to be surrounded by people plying them with drinks. And the Real World producers LOAD these houses now with booze. If these people were shoving fish sticks on these chicks, we’d be lamenting their fish stick problem. We all LOVE to see a “fault” in these people, then we love to pat ourselves on the back for being concerned about them and their “problem.” Give it a fucking rest; I doubt these chicks are sitting on their couches at 10am guzzling vodka, desperate for booze. Leave them alone – they’re freaks of nature manufactured by us and if they wanna get shitfaced and show their naked snatches, fine by me.
But last week I got a whiff of reekiness when he actually called a press conference to announce he’d be deciding if Miss America could keep her crown. What? Why would this have to be made public unless he actually did decide to cut her loose? One thing if he calls a press conference to say that he was firing her, sorry, tuff luck she blew it. But to announce to the world that he was gonna think about it for a while so we could wait on the edge of our seats, all the while embarrassing this young girl is (I hope) the height of his arrogance and desperate need for attention. Unreal. And then we’re supposed to pat him on the back and shake our heads “what a great guy! Giving the girl a second chance!” Fuck you. I only wish she had told him to go fuck himself, a la my dreams listed here (#6). Rosie’s right, and the fact that he would IMMEDIATELY grab a camera and basically hurl childish, personal insults directed at her weights shows who we’re dealing with. Fucking douchebag.
On a related side-note, we need to stop declaring that all these young celeb superstars have drinking problems. Lindsay has been going to AA, Miss America is going to rehab, and within the first 4 episodes of The Real World 2 out of the 7 roommates have had to admit they have a “problem.” Fucking please. Lindsay et al run around town cause they’re young and rich and happen to be surrounded by people plying them with drinks. And the Real World producers LOAD these houses now with booze. If these people were shoving fish sticks on these chicks, we’d be lamenting their fish stick problem. We all LOVE to see a “fault” in these people, then we love to pat ourselves on the back for being concerned about them and their “problem.” Give it a fucking rest; I doubt these chicks are sitting on their couches at 10am guzzling vodka, desperate for booze. Leave them alone – they’re freaks of nature manufactured by us and if they wanna get shitfaced and show their naked snatches, fine by me.
The Joy of Xmastime
One of the few things in this life I have left to enjoy is when all my roommates are gone. The second the last dude has shut the door behind him my clothes immediately explode off of my body and “Naked Night” kicks off in full force. And since everybody’s gone for the whole next week it becomes, you guessed it, “Naked Week.” Last night while sprawled on my couch naked, wowing my own nakedness, I struck upon an easy white-trash Naked Night dish for you guys.
Chef Boyardee Ravioli Lasagna
INGREDIENTS:
3 cans of Chef Boyardee Meat Ravioli
18 slices white American cheese
Take ravioli out of cans and drain/rinse off the sauce. We want them fairly dry; there will be enuff of a taste of sauce still on the ravioli. It’s only Chef Boyardee, it’s not like I’m asking you to toss out Ragu. In a small casserole dish, lay out the ravioli - 4 rows of 4. All the cans I used last night had exactly 16 raviolis. Perhaps this number is a nod to Italy, as in the same number of letters in “Shaped like a booot”? And yes I added an extra “o” to get to sixteen letters. Get off my ass – I don’t have a job, I haven’t had a girlfriend since 1995 and every day on the TV guide thingee they list a double shot of “What’s Happening!” coming on at 9pm, but when I gleefully flip to it at 9 they fucking show Andy Griffith. Every day for the last week I have fallen for this, and I am not fucking pleased. The two hours I spent rubbing my nakedness on every cd my roommate owns barely cheers me up. Anyway. Moving on. Take cheese slices and layer them on top of raviolis, now repeat the ravioli and cheese layers two more times, stick in oven and wait for cheese to melt and turn a nice bubbly brown. Mmmm!! Sit back on couch, turn to repeat of “The Real World” and enjoy. And since it’s Naked Week and nobody's around, you can shit afterwards with the bathroom door wide open. Sigh. I don't know what heaven is gonna be like, but if it tops shitting with the door open I'll be surprised. Salut!
Chef Boyardee Ravioli Lasagna
INGREDIENTS:
3 cans of Chef Boyardee Meat Ravioli
18 slices white American cheese
Take ravioli out of cans and drain/rinse off the sauce. We want them fairly dry; there will be enuff of a taste of sauce still on the ravioli. It’s only Chef Boyardee, it’s not like I’m asking you to toss out Ragu. In a small casserole dish, lay out the ravioli - 4 rows of 4. All the cans I used last night had exactly 16 raviolis. Perhaps this number is a nod to Italy, as in the same number of letters in “Shaped like a booot”? And yes I added an extra “o” to get to sixteen letters. Get off my ass – I don’t have a job, I haven’t had a girlfriend since 1995 and every day on the TV guide thingee they list a double shot of “What’s Happening!” coming on at 9pm, but when I gleefully flip to it at 9 they fucking show Andy Griffith. Every day for the last week I have fallen for this, and I am not fucking pleased. The two hours I spent rubbing my nakedness on every cd my roommate owns barely cheers me up. Anyway. Moving on. Take cheese slices and layer them on top of raviolis, now repeat the ravioli and cheese layers two more times, stick in oven and wait for cheese to melt and turn a nice bubbly brown. Mmmm!! Sit back on couch, turn to repeat of “The Real World” and enjoy. And since it’s Naked Week and nobody's around, you can shit afterwards with the bathroom door wide open. Sigh. I don't know what heaven is gonna be like, but if it tops shitting with the door open I'll be surprised. Salut!
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Chinese Shop
A LA CARTE
Cum Drop Soup
Fresh every 2.7 days
Hoo Flung Poo
Napkins & Raincoats provided
Suc Sum Tit
Childrens Special
Yung-Poon Tang
No Take Out Orders Accepted
LUNCHEON SPECIALS
Sum Young Chick
Different and Delicious
Won Hung Lo
Chinese Meatballs
Sum Dum Fuc
Same as #1 but with Hot Sauce
Chu Sum Twat
Dinners for parties of three or more
DINNER COMBOS
Goo Wee Chick
Sloppy Seconds No Extra Charge
Cum Tu Soon
Over Early – These Go Fast
Suc Mi Wang
Smothered with Duck Sauce
Fuc Mei Slo
Not available after 10pm
Lik Mi Clit
A delicious lip smacking treat
Cho Kon It
Generous Portions Provided
Wai Tu Yung
Not available on school nights
Sum Gulp Cum
Lo-Cal Diet Special
FREE PORKING IN REAR
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Family Christmas Weekend
This past weekend I went down to Richmond to have our annual Xmas Family Dinner, wherein my brothers and I descend upon my sister’s house to eat, drink and be merry. As this was what I thought to be the best one in all the years we’ve done this, thought I’d collect a few thoughts for you.
My sister, who always hosts these events, is a BIT of a worrier. God bless her, she means the best, but she thinks she’s hosting a state dinner and the Queen of England is coming. “It’s only us, we try and say. But she gets worked up worrying, for weeks leading up to it she’s screaming, desperately trying to make everything perfect etc etc. worried about the meal, someone finding a coaster out of place, whatever. So this year my brother came up with a GENIUS idea to relieve her stress: instead of cooking, fuck that, we’ll go to our all-time favorite Chinese restaurant down the street, Joy Garden. This way we just roll in, have a few cocktails, she ain’t gotta cook or nothing. No worrying, no screaming. So of course by late afternoon she’s worrying about us getting there EXACTLY AT 5PM, who’s sitting where, how we’re getting there, what the Chinese are gonna do about Google, etc etc. But at least instead of the Crazy-O-Meter raging at 10, this was just a healthy purring 4. Beautiful idea. Genius. On a side note, instead of the real Chinese waitresses we’ve enjoyed there throughout the decades (my gems such as “whachu wan for to dwink??!?!” did not come outta thin air, people), we got stuck with some middle-aged former barfly from the sticks. I don’t go to an institution such as Joy Garden to hear “yall” or “sugarpie” or “follow me to the ladies room, Big Fun Buck.” And I ordered a Johnny Walker Black. Ten minutes later she comes out with a SHOT of JWB. Which, of course was wrong. But the funny thing is it wasn’t even in a shot glass, it was in a regular glass, but for some reason she thought “this guy wants a shot, even though he didn’t say so, and even though we don’t have shot glasses in the restaurant cause it’s not like people come here to pound shots, so you know what…I’m thinking what the hell, I'll try giving him a shot.” What the fuck thinking is this? "...I'm back at Xmastime's place, he asked me to come in here and change into sumpin skimpy so we can fuck, so I'm thinking...he probably wants me to fill the sink with shaving cream, then slip out the window and blow the first teenager I see on the street...I'm on it!"
Speaking of the Chinese, as usual I took the Chinatown bus down. I don’t know what it is they’re cooking up but I’m telling you, these people are up to something. I’m surrounded by them on their cell phones, screaming “ACH TUNG DOW!! TUNG DOW CHU CHU TUNG FOO DAH!!!!!!!” Jesus. A violent sounding language. MAYBE they’re saying “Plesse pick me up at the appropriate bus depot upon my arrival, say hello to Grandmama.” But they might also be saying “Damn right we’re blowing this shit up, starting with this fucking bus and Yellowstone. Free MY big swingin Tibet, Niggaaaaaazzz!!”
I actually heard a Chinese girl behind me finish a sentence with “ding ding ding!” Ding ding ding? Are you kidding me? I turned around, I thought maybe I had won a prize. It’s tough to be intimidated by a people who actually say “ding ding ding.” Is there an English equivalent of using the same word three straight times in a sentence? MAYBE when me and Op go out looking to get up in some tongety-tong tongs, but that’s about it. And he’s married, which surely the Chinese already know. Hmm. Velly intresting.
One good thing was that for the second year in a row, Xmastime did not win the “Brother Who Pisses off Our Sister by Being a Dumb Drunk Fuck Award.” Little bro defended his title nicely, following up last year’s performance with breaking a window, covering the driveway in puke, shattering his own glasses on the porch and, best of all, being completely baffled the next morning by our sister peeling the paint off the walls with her screaming at him. God Bless him. All this while yours truly, after years of holding the title and there being talk of having my number retired, sat quietly on the couch in a nicely pressed white shirt, sipping beer while chatting amiably. Little Bro, a lesson for next year: when you're at a get together and about to puke, just lift your shirt away from your chest, lower your head, turn towards your shoulder and let the puke fly, then cover back up. Camon brah! This is remedial shit I'm teaching here!
He did have the best thought of the weekend, though. After we had all had a few cocktails, a group of us got into a spirited debate about something. Little bro decides to jump in and disagrees with me. I say something and then he suddenly jumps up and announces A-HA!!! He wins the argument!...turns out I had used the word “amalgamation.” And, since he didn’t know what the word meant, that completely discredited everything I had said up to that moment. Get that? It’s not even as if he had busted me trying to be showy with a word I myself did not understand, it’s that HE didn’t know it, so TA-DA!! Everything I had said up to that point had no substance, he wins, let’s hit the clubs and drink us up some bub! Unreal. Poor dude, was ecstatic, actually looked around the room for a high five. Sigh.
Of course all great things in VA begin and end with my nephew Paddy Mac. I got to spend hours with him, and I learned to play his favorite “game” with him. He likes for you to sit in a chair, and one by one he will bring you all of his books. Here’s one on shapes, here’s one on trucks, dogs, whatever. At first you’re like “oh, you want me to read this to you?” to which he’s like please shut up, I’ve got 14 more books to deliver. So you sit there til you have all the books. And then of course it’s time to…you got it…return the books. One by one he takes them from you back to the book corner. Fascinating. And once you’re done with book delivery, it’s stuffed animal transfer time. And just like how he has zero interest in reading the books, he simply has no time to waste actually playing with the freaking animals, gotta keep moving product. Penguin, bear, Snoopy, etc etc. I figure he’ll end up as a librarian, or a mailman. Well, or if he actually wants to make money, a drug mule. I dont throw the word "prodigy" around every day people, but I feel it's applicable here.
Everyone spent the weekend being fascinated by how quickly I’d be able to calm little man down whenever he’d get cranky. He’d start to cry, and Uncle Xmas would stroll in, lay hands, and VOILA! Calmed down or, even better, drifting off to sleep. "What a guy!" everyone thinks. I’m the same way with my godsons, they think I have some magical touch. So I guess it’s time I gave up my secret….I keep my fingers coated in whiskey. Go to baby, pat him on head “awww, lil guy, it’s okay…” let him suck your finger for a second, POW! He’s down, and we can get back to discussing why only one chick has ever appreciated it when I tried to introduce Chicken McNuggets into our lovemaking (yes, the fucking 20-pack.)
So I had a great weekend, and in light of recent events I’m letting my older brother know that I’m gunning for him next year for the “Golden Brother” title; I don’t know what I can do to knock him off the top but I’ll think of something. SOMEone might take a sip of his drink and wake up on my sister’s couch the next morning in a Richmond Braves uniform with a note pinned to it “Thanks for last night!! – Love, Coach”
My sister, who always hosts these events, is a BIT of a worrier. God bless her, she means the best, but she thinks she’s hosting a state dinner and the Queen of England is coming. “It’s only us, we try and say. But she gets worked up worrying, for weeks leading up to it she’s screaming, desperately trying to make everything perfect etc etc. worried about the meal, someone finding a coaster out of place, whatever. So this year my brother came up with a GENIUS idea to relieve her stress: instead of cooking, fuck that, we’ll go to our all-time favorite Chinese restaurant down the street, Joy Garden. This way we just roll in, have a few cocktails, she ain’t gotta cook or nothing. No worrying, no screaming. So of course by late afternoon she’s worrying about us getting there EXACTLY AT 5PM, who’s sitting where, how we’re getting there, what the Chinese are gonna do about Google, etc etc. But at least instead of the Crazy-O-Meter raging at 10, this was just a healthy purring 4. Beautiful idea. Genius. On a side note, instead of the real Chinese waitresses we’ve enjoyed there throughout the decades (my gems such as “whachu wan for to dwink??!?!” did not come outta thin air, people), we got stuck with some middle-aged former barfly from the sticks. I don’t go to an institution such as Joy Garden to hear “yall” or “sugarpie” or “follow me to the ladies room, Big Fun Buck.” And I ordered a Johnny Walker Black. Ten minutes later she comes out with a SHOT of JWB. Which, of course was wrong. But the funny thing is it wasn’t even in a shot glass, it was in a regular glass, but for some reason she thought “this guy wants a shot, even though he didn’t say so, and even though we don’t have shot glasses in the restaurant cause it’s not like people come here to pound shots, so you know what…I’m thinking what the hell, I'll try giving him a shot.” What the fuck thinking is this? "...I'm back at Xmastime's place, he asked me to come in here and change into sumpin skimpy so we can fuck, so I'm thinking...he probably wants me to fill the sink with shaving cream, then slip out the window and blow the first teenager I see on the street...I'm on it!"
Speaking of the Chinese, as usual I took the Chinatown bus down. I don’t know what it is they’re cooking up but I’m telling you, these people are up to something. I’m surrounded by them on their cell phones, screaming “ACH TUNG DOW!! TUNG DOW CHU CHU TUNG FOO DAH!!!!!!!” Jesus. A violent sounding language. MAYBE they’re saying “Plesse pick me up at the appropriate bus depot upon my arrival, say hello to Grandmama.” But they might also be saying “Damn right we’re blowing this shit up, starting with this fucking bus and Yellowstone. Free MY big swingin Tibet, Niggaaaaaazzz!!”
I actually heard a Chinese girl behind me finish a sentence with “ding ding ding!” Ding ding ding? Are you kidding me? I turned around, I thought maybe I had won a prize. It’s tough to be intimidated by a people who actually say “ding ding ding.” Is there an English equivalent of using the same word three straight times in a sentence? MAYBE when me and Op go out looking to get up in some tongety-tong tongs, but that’s about it. And he’s married, which surely the Chinese already know. Hmm. Velly intresting.
One good thing was that for the second year in a row, Xmastime did not win the “Brother Who Pisses off Our Sister by Being a Dumb Drunk Fuck Award.” Little bro defended his title nicely, following up last year’s performance with breaking a window, covering the driveway in puke, shattering his own glasses on the porch and, best of all, being completely baffled the next morning by our sister peeling the paint off the walls with her screaming at him. God Bless him. All this while yours truly, after years of holding the title and there being talk of having my number retired, sat quietly on the couch in a nicely pressed white shirt, sipping beer while chatting amiably. Little Bro, a lesson for next year: when you're at a get together and about to puke, just lift your shirt away from your chest, lower your head, turn towards your shoulder and let the puke fly, then cover back up. Camon brah! This is remedial shit I'm teaching here!
He did have the best thought of the weekend, though. After we had all had a few cocktails, a group of us got into a spirited debate about something. Little bro decides to jump in and disagrees with me. I say something and then he suddenly jumps up and announces A-HA!!! He wins the argument!...turns out I had used the word “amalgamation.” And, since he didn’t know what the word meant, that completely discredited everything I had said up to that moment. Get that? It’s not even as if he had busted me trying to be showy with a word I myself did not understand, it’s that HE didn’t know it, so TA-DA!! Everything I had said up to that point had no substance, he wins, let’s hit the clubs and drink us up some bub! Unreal. Poor dude, was ecstatic, actually looked around the room for a high five. Sigh.
Of course all great things in VA begin and end with my nephew Paddy Mac. I got to spend hours with him, and I learned to play his favorite “game” with him. He likes for you to sit in a chair, and one by one he will bring you all of his books. Here’s one on shapes, here’s one on trucks, dogs, whatever. At first you’re like “oh, you want me to read this to you?” to which he’s like please shut up, I’ve got 14 more books to deliver. So you sit there til you have all the books. And then of course it’s time to…you got it…return the books. One by one he takes them from you back to the book corner. Fascinating. And once you’re done with book delivery, it’s stuffed animal transfer time. And just like how he has zero interest in reading the books, he simply has no time to waste actually playing with the freaking animals, gotta keep moving product. Penguin, bear, Snoopy, etc etc. I figure he’ll end up as a librarian, or a mailman. Well, or if he actually wants to make money, a drug mule. I dont throw the word "prodigy" around every day people, but I feel it's applicable here.
Everyone spent the weekend being fascinated by how quickly I’d be able to calm little man down whenever he’d get cranky. He’d start to cry, and Uncle Xmas would stroll in, lay hands, and VOILA! Calmed down or, even better, drifting off to sleep. "What a guy!" everyone thinks. I’m the same way with my godsons, they think I have some magical touch. So I guess it’s time I gave up my secret….I keep my fingers coated in whiskey. Go to baby, pat him on head “awww, lil guy, it’s okay…” let him suck your finger for a second, POW! He’s down, and we can get back to discussing why only one chick has ever appreciated it when I tried to introduce Chicken McNuggets into our lovemaking (yes, the fucking 20-pack.)
So I had a great weekend, and in light of recent events I’m letting my older brother know that I’m gunning for him next year for the “Golden Brother” title; I don’t know what I can do to knock him off the top but I’ll think of something. SOMEone might take a sip of his drink and wake up on my sister’s couch the next morning in a Richmond Braves uniform with a note pinned to it “Thanks for last night!! – Love, Coach”
Grams v. Kelly
I can't be 100% sure just yet, but I might come out soon and announce that I hate early Dawson's Creek uber-judgemental grey panther "Grams" more than late-90210 so-judgementally-bitchy-that-even-I-wouldnt fuck her Kelly Taylor. stay tuned.
Friday, December 15, 2006
I'm Back!
Lets give a big Xmastime round of applause to my boy Jeff, who held down the fort here for a few days! Let’s face it; following Xmastime? I don’t wanna say"impossible", but I WILL agree that it’s not possible.
I babysat a lot while I was away, and I’ve learned that there is one reason I fucking resent infants. When a baby eats, we’re so happy for it when it really chows down; "oooh, good boy!" we coo "eat some more!! Oooh, MORE? I’m so proud!!" I’m elated when little man chows down what I made him and cries for more. But today I started thinking you know what, fuck you. Everybody’s doing cartwheels when you shovel it in, but I eyeball the last slice of pizza and it’s like"Oh, great, fucking take it Xmastime. You fat fucking pig." You know? No one coos and smiles when I go up for a second round of 20-piece McNuggets. No one applauds when I go up for 4ths on the buffet. Though what a world that would be, right? Course, I might was well hope for an actual pussy to be sewn onto my hand, so I guess dreaming is dreaming.
I also finally saw "Brokeback Mountain." Must say. Very disappointing. I was expecting to be overwhelmed by this flick; expected it to be amazing like everyone said. Even throughout the looooooooong first100 minutes I kept thinking well, okay, there’s gonna be an amazing ending that is going to completely bowl me over, I’ll be a weeping mess and will thank God for such a great movie. A veritable climax, one might say. But much like sex with a fat chick after staying up for three days drinking whiskey, after two hours of flaccid pumping there was no orgasm, no great ending. Very disappointing.The first thing threw me off was immediately upon meeting they start spilling their guts to each other. Hmm. Hard-scrabble, weathered sheepherders and they turn into Ricki fucking Lake. "Ooooh, my daddy’s mean! No one gets me! I’m writing a screenplay called ‘Star Wars’!!! wwaaaaaahhh my daddy’s mean!!" what??!?! Dudes don’t talk like that. I’ve spent countless late night hours with my boy Op, and after about a million scotch and sodas I still have no idea if he even HAS a father, where he’s from or if his name is in fact Op. We drink, stare at the tv and pretend to get into fights, like men. Not for a second could I believe that these two were in fact some sort of grizzled manly men. So then it becomes just another movie about namby-pambys hugging and kissing and I’m sorry, but in "Stand by Me" there were twice as many dudes, a dead body and one of the Coreys, so thanks but no thanks.
And I mean, I don’t know…if it’s the 1960’s, in the midwest, I’m a "cowboy" and I’m so horny that I’m willing to go against THE greatest taboo in society….instead of ass-raping another dude and risk ruining my life forever, maybe I get a bottle of wine and start sweet-talking one of THE 200 SHEEP THAT ARE SURROUNDING ME. Hmm. The odds of you getting caught are almost 0%. Sheep don’t talk. And I gotta figure that you’re better off being known as "the guy that fucked a sheep" instead of "the guy that slowly inserted his turgid, erect member into another man’squaking, expectant tunnel of love while laying soft feather kisses on his neck and touching his shivering, ecstatic nipples, a perfect union of milky flesh becoming one as their hearts beat to the same song of love and lust - eager in their lovemaking, eager in their willingness to please, yet patient in their want", no? But what the hell do I know? Up until now, the only sheepherders I’ve ever known was these guys:
"Don't quit me, Ralph!!"
"Nice handbag, queer" *smoooooooch!
Plus, enough with the goddam beans. Every meal, beans. Haven’t the gays been through enough already? We're 20 miles from a toilet or shower, you want me to stick it in your ass and you're pounding beans? HELL no.
Very disappointing, all I’m saying.
I babysat a lot while I was away, and I’ve learned that there is one reason I fucking resent infants. When a baby eats, we’re so happy for it when it really chows down; "oooh, good boy!" we coo "eat some more!! Oooh, MORE? I’m so proud!!" I’m elated when little man chows down what I made him and cries for more. But today I started thinking you know what, fuck you. Everybody’s doing cartwheels when you shovel it in, but I eyeball the last slice of pizza and it’s like"Oh, great, fucking take it Xmastime. You fat fucking pig." You know? No one coos and smiles when I go up for a second round of 20-piece McNuggets. No one applauds when I go up for 4ths on the buffet. Though what a world that would be, right? Course, I might was well hope for an actual pussy to be sewn onto my hand, so I guess dreaming is dreaming.
I also finally saw "Brokeback Mountain." Must say. Very disappointing. I was expecting to be overwhelmed by this flick; expected it to be amazing like everyone said. Even throughout the looooooooong first100 minutes I kept thinking well, okay, there’s gonna be an amazing ending that is going to completely bowl me over, I’ll be a weeping mess and will thank God for such a great movie. A veritable climax, one might say. But much like sex with a fat chick after staying up for three days drinking whiskey, after two hours of flaccid pumping there was no orgasm, no great ending. Very disappointing.The first thing threw me off was immediately upon meeting they start spilling their guts to each other. Hmm. Hard-scrabble, weathered sheepherders and they turn into Ricki fucking Lake. "Ooooh, my daddy’s mean! No one gets me! I’m writing a screenplay called ‘Star Wars’!!! wwaaaaaahhh my daddy’s mean!!" what??!?! Dudes don’t talk like that. I’ve spent countless late night hours with my boy Op, and after about a million scotch and sodas I still have no idea if he even HAS a father, where he’s from or if his name is in fact Op. We drink, stare at the tv and pretend to get into fights, like men. Not for a second could I believe that these two were in fact some sort of grizzled manly men. So then it becomes just another movie about namby-pambys hugging and kissing and I’m sorry, but in "Stand by Me" there were twice as many dudes, a dead body and one of the Coreys, so thanks but no thanks.
And I mean, I don’t know…if it’s the 1960’s, in the midwest, I’m a "cowboy" and I’m so horny that I’m willing to go against THE greatest taboo in society….instead of ass-raping another dude and risk ruining my life forever, maybe I get a bottle of wine and start sweet-talking one of THE 200 SHEEP THAT ARE SURROUNDING ME. Hmm. The odds of you getting caught are almost 0%. Sheep don’t talk. And I gotta figure that you’re better off being known as "the guy that fucked a sheep" instead of "the guy that slowly inserted his turgid, erect member into another man’squaking, expectant tunnel of love while laying soft feather kisses on his neck and touching his shivering, ecstatic nipples, a perfect union of milky flesh becoming one as their hearts beat to the same song of love and lust - eager in their lovemaking, eager in their willingness to please, yet patient in their want", no? But what the hell do I know? Up until now, the only sheepherders I’ve ever known was these guys:
"Don't quit me, Ralph!!"
"Nice handbag, queer" *smoooooooch!
Plus, enough with the goddam beans. Every meal, beans. Haven’t the gays been through enough already? We're 20 miles from a toilet or shower, you want me to stick it in your ass and you're pounding beans? HELL no.
Very disappointing, all I’m saying.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
The Fall of the American Empire
Forget Xmastime's kvetching and his "attitude" cribbed from that freakishly large headed Bill Maher.
We got real problems.
For example, Cup Stacking.
"Hey, let's come up with a 'competitive sport' that a) can allow Rain Man morons to win and b) provide no other benefit, like teamwork, intelligence, strategy or exercise."
This is what passes for competition in a nation that cannot have their young people keep score of a soccer match for fear of wounding their self-esteem. We cannot have murder ball lest fatty Noah be struck unfairly by a whizzing rubber orb. And I'm supposed to lament losing some of these fools in Iraq?
Never has a populace had youth with such undeservedly high self-regard. Indeed, Jedediah and Kyle, you are retarded, overly fed and infused with an ADD derived from your Game Cube, but at least you can stack cups. So, be confident! Go forth! Live on Mom's couch until you are 38 and you finally realize that cup stacking is not the wave of the future.
From this crowd, we will have to find centurions?
The Revenge of the Nerds is upon us, and we have more than the talentless, horse-faced Robert Carradine to fear. A committee of dorks now controls the levers of school. We cannot jump rope. We cannot compete. We cannot allow Kincaid to lose.
So, we train the future to stack plastic cups.
"Nice work, Flower."
Monday, December 11, 2006
Things Are Good
With Xmastime gone, I'd like to ensure that his absence won't be traumatic:
* "Boy is that president STOOOPID. A regular Chimpie McHitler. [INSERT 135 words or extraneous, unfunny crap here] He's so stupid he makes Ronnie Ray-Gun [cue the comedy stylings of comic master Richard Belzer circa 1983] seems like Dick Cavett."
* "WAKE UP, People! Stop the MaDNEss! Haven't we have enough of Chimpie McDuncer? It's on us. We just don't care. But we need too. VOTE, people! [INSERT 300 words, 297 of which are adjectives].
* "Did you know Barack Obama's middle name is Hussein? Just like 80% of the cashiers at 7-11" (ba-dum-dum, "thank you, I'll be here at the Laugh Factory thru Tuesday").
* "What kind of nation are we that pays Alfonso Soriano more money that teachers? [INSERT 240 words of faux outrage here, because Xmastime never paid dick to watch a public school teacher teach, but he lays out scads of cash for 'folk heroes' like Bruce Springsteen, dudes who have gotten so self-important that they actually will interrupt their pop - YES, POP! - songs to explain that indeed, the screen door slammed, and Mary's dress waved, but not like a hand waving at you - more like the waving of an ever-fading American flag as it is battered and bruised but 41 shots . . . 41 shots . . . 41 shots . . . . 41 Shots . . . 41 Shots . . . and CHIMPIE MCStoopidhead, and blood in gravel, blah, blah blah]. So , I got the kung-fu grip on my man stick while watching porn and they cut to a male reaction shot and I'm like, horrified, yet aroused."
Xmastime and his muse
* "Boy is that president STOOOPID. A regular Chimpie McHitler. [INSERT 135 words or extraneous, unfunny crap here] He's so stupid he makes Ronnie Ray-Gun [cue the comedy stylings of comic master Richard Belzer circa 1983] seems like Dick Cavett."
* "WAKE UP, People! Stop the MaDNEss! Haven't we have enough of Chimpie McDuncer? It's on us. We just don't care. But we need too. VOTE, people! [INSERT 300 words, 297 of which are adjectives].
* "Did you know Barack Obama's middle name is Hussein? Just like 80% of the cashiers at 7-11" (ba-dum-dum, "thank you, I'll be here at the Laugh Factory thru Tuesday").
* "What kind of nation are we that pays Alfonso Soriano more money that teachers? [INSERT 240 words of faux outrage here, because Xmastime never paid dick to watch a public school teacher teach, but he lays out scads of cash for 'folk heroes' like Bruce Springsteen, dudes who have gotten so self-important that they actually will interrupt their pop - YES, POP! - songs to explain that indeed, the screen door slammed, and Mary's dress waved, but not like a hand waving at you - more like the waving of an ever-fading American flag as it is battered and bruised but 41 shots . . . 41 shots . . . 41 shots . . . . 41 Shots . . . 41 Shots . . . and CHIMPIE MCStoopidhead, and blood in gravel, blah, blah blah]. So , I got the kung-fu grip on my man stick while watching porn and they cut to a male reaction shot and I'm like, horrified, yet aroused."
Xmastime and his muse
Guest Host!
You people, all 939,772 of you, are in for a treat - my boy Jeff from the erstwhile Football Fans for Truth site will be guest-blogging through Wednesday! Take it easy on him, for remember: it's not his fault he's not Xmastime. Enjoy!
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Things are Good, Vol. XVII
1) I’m declaring a moratorium on the term “Best. (insert word here). Ever”; eg “Best. Tuna. Ever.” We get it, you liked the tuna. Wonderful. You don’t have to make THE final, definitive word on tuna. You don’t have to make it more dramatic by using. Periods. While. Talking. Slowly. So. I. Get. Your. Fucking. Point. Tuna. Good. Got it!
2) I’m writing a letter to Hillary Clinton. Please don’t run for President. Oh, I like you as a Senator, and at one time ages ago I wholeheartedly thought you’d be a great President. But now you’ve sold yourself out to the right so much, I might as well vote for a Republican anyways. And the fact is you can’t win. Sorry, but the hatred that would storm over the country during the campaign would be amazing. The Red States hate you. Women hate you. The Clinton Haters would come out of hibernation frothing at the mouth. The only person who would vote for you at this point is Tammy Wynette, and unless Joe Kennedy is running things, her vote might not get counted. Best. Vote. From. A. Corpse. Ever. Of course, now they say she won’t run if Obama does. Which to me is funny, because if she had waited a few years and ran for Senator in her “real” home state, no one would ever had heard of Obama. Ah well. Hey, I just noticed that by changing a single letter, “Obama” becomes “Osama.” I’m not saying Barak Obama is the number one terrorist on the planet, but so far all we know about him at all is he might be black, and Oprah loves him. That's all we know. And when the hell is Oprah gonna run for President? Wouldn't she win in a landslide? "Look under your voting booths, people...everybody's going home today in a new Festiva!!! yeeeaaaahhh!!!"
3) I also put a letter in the mail this morning to Prez W. Cause it dawned on me that you know what, when he’s done as US President, wouldn’t he wanna be President of Iraq? I mean hell, he’s been obsessed with the place since he got in office. He’s repeatedly told me that the democracy, safety and freedom of the Iraqi people is more important than my own; isn’t it obvious he wants to be with them? So W, dust off your resume, there's a new job waiting for you! After your’re out of the White House, I’d better not see your ass back at the ranch in Crawford “clearing brush.” I know you’ve already gone on record shrugging your shoulders that it’s the next guy’s problem to clean up your mess, just like whenever Daddy’s boys come and get your ass out of a sling, but remember - God told you to free these people. You were put here to solve the Middle East and await the Rapture!! You’ve spent years screaming that this is the most important thing in the world; if you don’t insist on finishing your work there even after you leave office (not a lot of brush over there, maybe you can fly some in from time to time so you can clear it on the weekends while pondering serious issues?) then I will assume that all these years of you crying for their “freedom” really was a load of horseshit – just like I’m suspicious of how quickly you’re saying “oh well, fuck it” now that you don’t have unchecked power any more. I’d have more respect for you if still insisted that you believed in what you were doing. Oh you’d be wrong, and retarded, and it wouldn’t matter because now it looks like the adults have shown up to take care of this while you go to your room and play with your Hot Wheels, but at least I’d believe that you did mean what you had been preaching for all these years. You’ve gone on about this being “our” moral duty all this time, so get over there and take your rightful place as Best. Iraqi. Dipshit. I. Mean. President. Ever.
4) I’ve spent a portion of every single one of my days on this earth watching, playing or talking about sports. I’m very confident in my manliness – I don’t wear cologne, I’ve been in bar fights and I don’t care about the female orgasm. Even if there is such a thing. But I have no idea what “taking the points” in gambling means. Or "giving the points" either. No idea, can’t wrap my head around it, whenever someone says it to me I nod my head and look like I’m thinking hard. Same thing I do on the crapper, now that I think of it. Hey, what are the odds of me taking a dump the size of a deer before I’m done with this post? Best. Odds. Ever.
5) The ‘Beverly Hills 90210’ reruns I’m watching right now are from the very first season. I gotta say, I’m a little disappointed in how quickly Kelly, Donna et al accepted Brenda into their little group. Aren’t they part of the super-duper-snooty “it” group at the snobbiest school on earth? Yet Brenda’s barely out of her brother’s ’88 Chevette with Minneapolis plates before they’re BFF. Little disappointing. I mean, Brenda’s hot, but they’re ALL hot. Same with Steve – THE BMOC, supposedly the coolest guy in school, and he spends the whole first episode with the new hick in town (Brandon) and the local Vanilla Ice-wannabe-but-is-probably-too-gay-even-for-that guy (David.) Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I expect too much from my outrageously rich, snobby 16 year olds. Can a brother get some petty cattiness up in here for chrissake? Christ. I spend a lot of time hanging round outside the 7th grade at St. Agnes down the street, and those bitches wouldn’t cross the street to piss on me. No matter how much I offer them. They’re too busy being rich and aloof; now THOSE are cool “it” girls. Take a lesson, Kelly. This one’s dedicated to my girlfriend, Tori Spelling. Best. Horseface. Ever.
6) I wish all the Asians would fucking die.
7) Everytime I brace myself and think that women have woken up and decided to take over the planet, they shoot themselves in the titties. Over the last few years I’ve been reading/hearing about more and more women deciding that they’re gonna “stick it to men” and show us that they can be like men when it came to sex. I guess a big reason for this was of course “Sex and the City.” Cracks me up. Women have had enough, gonna free themselves, gonna stick it to men by having sex!!!! Lots of it!! Round the clock!!!...of course, to be having all this sex, it's gotta be with someone...so...who are they having all this sex with...all together now...men. Hmm. What’s next, cows making themselves hamburgers? That’ll learn us! Men are supposedly idiots, but we’ve quietly steered women towards being promiscuous, dressing like sluts and sleeping around without the hassle of a relationship. Well. You showed us, sister! Best. Secret. Ever. Though. Now. Every. Woman. Is. Going. To. Hate. Me. Though. Not. As. Much. As. Guys. Since. Now. The. Best. Secret. Ever. Is. Out.
8) Who are obituaries for? Who reads these – do you think you’re gonna stumble upon the name of someone you know? “….shit – that’s my wife!! I know she was cold in bed, but…” If it’s someone you remotely care about, odds are you already know they died. You know they were “beloved” and “cherished.” Why can’t people have fun with obituaries? Instead of the standad beloved and cherished bullshit, have some fun. “Reggie Durham died Wednesday…survived by wife and 2 kids…who have really turned out to be losers…devout member of First Baptist Church…owes me $114….strong figure in community…never learned to read or write…loyal husband of 33 years…Best. Flapjacks. Ever.” see? Wouldn’t that be great? Hey, they’re dead , they won’t care.
2) I’m writing a letter to Hillary Clinton. Please don’t run for President. Oh, I like you as a Senator, and at one time ages ago I wholeheartedly thought you’d be a great President. But now you’ve sold yourself out to the right so much, I might as well vote for a Republican anyways. And the fact is you can’t win. Sorry, but the hatred that would storm over the country during the campaign would be amazing. The Red States hate you. Women hate you. The Clinton Haters would come out of hibernation frothing at the mouth. The only person who would vote for you at this point is Tammy Wynette, and unless Joe Kennedy is running things, her vote might not get counted. Best. Vote. From. A. Corpse. Ever. Of course, now they say she won’t run if Obama does. Which to me is funny, because if she had waited a few years and ran for Senator in her “real” home state, no one would ever had heard of Obama. Ah well. Hey, I just noticed that by changing a single letter, “Obama” becomes “Osama.” I’m not saying Barak Obama is the number one terrorist on the planet, but so far all we know about him at all is he might be black, and Oprah loves him. That's all we know. And when the hell is Oprah gonna run for President? Wouldn't she win in a landslide? "Look under your voting booths, people...everybody's going home today in a new Festiva!!! yeeeaaaahhh!!!"
3) I also put a letter in the mail this morning to Prez W. Cause it dawned on me that you know what, when he’s done as US President, wouldn’t he wanna be President of Iraq? I mean hell, he’s been obsessed with the place since he got in office. He’s repeatedly told me that the democracy, safety and freedom of the Iraqi people is more important than my own; isn’t it obvious he wants to be with them? So W, dust off your resume, there's a new job waiting for you! After your’re out of the White House, I’d better not see your ass back at the ranch in Crawford “clearing brush.” I know you’ve already gone on record shrugging your shoulders that it’s the next guy’s problem to clean up your mess, just like whenever Daddy’s boys come and get your ass out of a sling, but remember - God told you to free these people. You were put here to solve the Middle East and await the Rapture!! You’ve spent years screaming that this is the most important thing in the world; if you don’t insist on finishing your work there even after you leave office (not a lot of brush over there, maybe you can fly some in from time to time so you can clear it on the weekends while pondering serious issues?) then I will assume that all these years of you crying for their “freedom” really was a load of horseshit – just like I’m suspicious of how quickly you’re saying “oh well, fuck it” now that you don’t have unchecked power any more. I’d have more respect for you if still insisted that you believed in what you were doing. Oh you’d be wrong, and retarded, and it wouldn’t matter because now it looks like the adults have shown up to take care of this while you go to your room and play with your Hot Wheels, but at least I’d believe that you did mean what you had been preaching for all these years. You’ve gone on about this being “our” moral duty all this time, so get over there and take your rightful place as Best. Iraqi. Dipshit. I. Mean. President. Ever.
4) I’ve spent a portion of every single one of my days on this earth watching, playing or talking about sports. I’m very confident in my manliness – I don’t wear cologne, I’ve been in bar fights and I don’t care about the female orgasm. Even if there is such a thing. But I have no idea what “taking the points” in gambling means. Or "giving the points" either. No idea, can’t wrap my head around it, whenever someone says it to me I nod my head and look like I’m thinking hard. Same thing I do on the crapper, now that I think of it. Hey, what are the odds of me taking a dump the size of a deer before I’m done with this post? Best. Odds. Ever.
5) The ‘Beverly Hills 90210’ reruns I’m watching right now are from the very first season. I gotta say, I’m a little disappointed in how quickly Kelly, Donna et al accepted Brenda into their little group. Aren’t they part of the super-duper-snooty “it” group at the snobbiest school on earth? Yet Brenda’s barely out of her brother’s ’88 Chevette with Minneapolis plates before they’re BFF. Little disappointing. I mean, Brenda’s hot, but they’re ALL hot. Same with Steve – THE BMOC, supposedly the coolest guy in school, and he spends the whole first episode with the new hick in town (Brandon) and the local Vanilla Ice-wannabe-but-is-probably-too-gay-even-for-that guy (David.) Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I expect too much from my outrageously rich, snobby 16 year olds. Can a brother get some petty cattiness up in here for chrissake? Christ. I spend a lot of time hanging round outside the 7th grade at St. Agnes down the street, and those bitches wouldn’t cross the street to piss on me. No matter how much I offer them. They’re too busy being rich and aloof; now THOSE are cool “it” girls. Take a lesson, Kelly. This one’s dedicated to my girlfriend, Tori Spelling. Best. Horseface. Ever.
6) I wish all the Asians would fucking die.
7) Everytime I brace myself and think that women have woken up and decided to take over the planet, they shoot themselves in the titties. Over the last few years I’ve been reading/hearing about more and more women deciding that they’re gonna “stick it to men” and show us that they can be like men when it came to sex. I guess a big reason for this was of course “Sex and the City.” Cracks me up. Women have had enough, gonna free themselves, gonna stick it to men by having sex!!!! Lots of it!! Round the clock!!!...of course, to be having all this sex, it's gotta be with someone...so...who are they having all this sex with...all together now...men. Hmm. What’s next, cows making themselves hamburgers? That’ll learn us! Men are supposedly idiots, but we’ve quietly steered women towards being promiscuous, dressing like sluts and sleeping around without the hassle of a relationship. Well. You showed us, sister! Best. Secret. Ever. Though. Now. Every. Woman. Is. Going. To. Hate. Me. Though. Not. As. Much. As. Guys. Since. Now. The. Best. Secret. Ever. Is. Out.
8) Who are obituaries for? Who reads these – do you think you’re gonna stumble upon the name of someone you know? “….shit – that’s my wife!! I know she was cold in bed, but…” If it’s someone you remotely care about, odds are you already know they died. You know they were “beloved” and “cherished.” Why can’t people have fun with obituaries? Instead of the standad beloved and cherished bullshit, have some fun. “Reggie Durham died Wednesday…survived by wife and 2 kids…who have really turned out to be losers…devout member of First Baptist Church…owes me $114….strong figure in community…never learned to read or write…loyal husband of 33 years…Best. Flapjacks. Ever.” see? Wouldn’t that be great? Hey, they’re dead , they won’t care.
Friday, December 01, 2006
THINGS ARE GOOD (Vol….whatever number we were up to)
1) Who’s the fucking wizard at ABC who, at the Christmas movie scheduling meeting, came up with kicking things off by showing "A Charlie Brown Christmas" on November 28? What the fuck? THE number one Christmas show to watch, Xmas nostalgia rivaled only by "It’s a Wonderful Life", and you know what…why don’t we get this thing outta the way before December even hits so we can make room for new classics like "Christmas at the Mall 3" and "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer (The Quickening)"? Who signed off on this – I looked and saw that tv has over 75 Xmas movies to fucking show in the next month; how the FUCK could the Charlie Brown one not be the goddam climax to all this?!?!?!?! Why is this not shown on Xmas Eve? Should be the "Christmas Story" marathon up til 7:30, then Charlie Brown followed by "It’s a Wonderful Life", bam! Christmas!!! Who even watches these other steaming piles they throw out every year? I’m baffled. November 28??!!?! Are you kidding me? I can live with them kicking off the Xmas season early, but why not save the best for last instead of vice versa? This is like fucking Jessica Alba before you’re even horny or hard so that you can hurry up and get to jerking off to the Sears catalog.
2) And whoever’s behind the newer Peanuts shows that follow the holiday specials, knock it off. I turned on to watch "The Great Pumpkin", not "Charlie Brown Gets Elected." NOBODY loves Peanuts more the Xmastime, but lets face it, the reason we love Peanuts is its nostalgia. Play the old hits and get off the air, please. At a Modern English concert do I stick around after "I Melt with You" to hear their new "hits"? No. HELL no…..I’d be in the can with all the other Europeans, spraying whipped cream on the walls and smoking cloves.
3) Yes, I was tempted to come up with a million titles, like "No, She’s Really Dead, Charlie Brown!" or "Who Called Franklin a N---er?"….but that’s prolly been done a million times, so lets move on.
4) And yes, that’s my segue back to this whole Michael Richards fiasco. I said it before, Im sick of everybody’s fake outrage over this. Yes, it was a mean, bad thing he said. Duh. But if we’re gonna pretend to outraged, why can’t we be pissed at REAL racism, racism that lies in the government, in corporations, communities – there is real racism everywhere, so lets not blow our wad on some words spouted by a guy whose sole claim to fame is funny entrances into his neighbors apartment. Camon. Tho I must say, this thing has made for some funny shit on tv, most of all my girl Elizabeth "Will Somebody Please Fuck the Dumb Out of Me?" Hasselbeck on "The View", who was saying that everyone should boycott the latest "Seinfeld" dvds. First of all, yes Elizabeth, you ARE the least racist person in the world, congratulations!!! I’m sure black people will now join your fight to keep W in office a third term. Secondly, I couldn’t help but laugh at this one – yeah, I’m sure the three black Seinfeld fans in the country will take a stand. "Seinfeld" is my show, but I can’t say they really busted their hump to show any racial diversity. Which, ironically, may be more honest to real life anyways. But other than Jackie Childs, the only other black character I recall is when Kramer had a black girlfriend, and what happened?….tada, over-tanned himself before meeting her family. Blackface always cooks! Though now that I think of it, could the show’s recurrent nod to black people be George never tipping waitresses? HIYOOOOOOOOOOO!! I’m kidding people!!! I joke, relax!!!!
5) The thing that I can’t shake about that video of Michael Richards is the reaction of the black people he insulted. They kept saying "There’s no call for that!" over and over. What?? Who the fuck was he calling ni—er, this guy?
Seriously, I don’t wanna stereotype black people here, but I seriously doubt that any conversation I could have with a black person would go like this:
Camon. This whole thing does put a chink in the armor of my post 9-11 policy of never flying on a plane with no black people on board. White people, we’re stupid and gay enough to say "everybody just sit tight and do what the nice man with the boxcutter says." Black dudes would be like "I’m going out cause of a box cutter? A BOX cutter? Ooooh, HELL no!"
6) And speaking of black people. How come I’ve never met a black guy that’s scared of me, yet every one I’ve ever known or seen is terrified of dogs? What’s this all about?
7) But what the fuck IS up with Pig Pen? Here’s a kid walking around encased in a cloud of filth and dirt. Great. How fast would his fucking parents get thrown in jail by social services today? But, more importantly, what does this asshole have going on that’s so great that he’s friends with everybody even though he’s basically a moving sewer? Wouldn’t it be great if it turns out he’s like "Fuck it, I got a 14-inch dick, I ain’t bathing. Suck it, bitches!" Or maybe he’s the one with the blow? The perrenial ‘heads-up 7-up’ champion?
8) Yesterday I played a song on my myspace page for a friend of mine. At the end he turns to me and actually says "Why so angry, buddy?" what? Why so angry? I’m broke. I don’t have a job. I haven’t had a girlfriend since 1995, the last time I got laid the only person on steroids was Delta Burke and McNuggets are up to $5/box….why so angry?!??! I’m not angry enough!!! Fucking christ. If anyone else wants to spray a gun around a crowded room the line should start here, fuckface.
9) Finally, thank God the new season of "The Real World" has begun. First of all, Colie might find herself as the all-time Mrs. Real World Xmastime. Secondly, I’m amused that one of the guys in the house in the first episode is wondering aloud if there’s gonna be a gay guy in the house. Jesus fucking christ. Just like the idiots who are shocked by how ridiculously amazing the house itself is and runs through it giggling, have you ever seen the show? YES. THERE WILL BE A GAY PERSON. I love it how this guy’s (Stephen? Is it Stephen? Yes) "religious beliefs" make him disapprove of homosexuality, but apparently Jesus doesn’t mind complete strangers spending 18 weeks in getting shitfaced and randomly fucking in a hot tub. Well, and apparently his religion does not allow tv either; surely that’s how he was able to miss the 396 previous episodes that feature at least one gay person. Including Pedro and Sean from season 3, the Prince Charles and Lady Di of gay reality couples.
The other thing I picked up with this new bunch is every single fucking one of them, upon either meeting a roommate or talking to the camera, went out of their way to say "hey, one thing about me you should know is I like to have a good time." Really? Wow. Shouldn’t we assume that since you’re a living, breathing thing you’d prefer a "good time" to a "bad time"? Is there rally anybody out there saying "One thing you should know about me, I like to slam my nuts in a cash register while attending puppy funerals." Just like youth itself, this show is wasted on the young. I will not rest until MTV has a season where the cast is at least 35 years old.
10) Britney. Hanging out with Paris. Please stop. Like everyone else, I assumed that I’d stop reading about you hanging around with blond talentless airheads the second you dumped K-Fed. Enough.
11) One thing that bugs me about action movies is when someone is on foot and being chased by a car. They run in a straight line in front of the car; I believe in adrenaline too, but I’m not sure you can outrun a car that can go 120mph. Wouldn’t is make more sense to simply step aside as the car gets close? Wouldn’t the driver be like "…oh yeah, I gotcha, I gotcha, taste me fender you…oh shit…crap….okay okay, lemme turn around here…hold on, u turn…hoooooold on…." Doesn’t it drive you crazy? "Run Jimmy run!!" oh, no the car caught him!! Wow!!
Anyways. Putting my Xmas Wish List together. Will keep you posted. Though I’m sure the words "naked pictures" might make an appearance.
2) And whoever’s behind the newer Peanuts shows that follow the holiday specials, knock it off. I turned on to watch "The Great Pumpkin", not "Charlie Brown Gets Elected." NOBODY loves Peanuts more the Xmastime, but lets face it, the reason we love Peanuts is its nostalgia. Play the old hits and get off the air, please. At a Modern English concert do I stick around after "I Melt with You" to hear their new "hits"? No. HELL no…..I’d be in the can with all the other Europeans, spraying whipped cream on the walls and smoking cloves.
3) Yes, I was tempted to come up with a million titles, like "No, She’s Really Dead, Charlie Brown!" or "Who Called Franklin a N---er?"….but that’s prolly been done a million times, so lets move on.
4) And yes, that’s my segue back to this whole Michael Richards fiasco. I said it before, Im sick of everybody’s fake outrage over this. Yes, it was a mean, bad thing he said. Duh. But if we’re gonna pretend to outraged, why can’t we be pissed at REAL racism, racism that lies in the government, in corporations, communities – there is real racism everywhere, so lets not blow our wad on some words spouted by a guy whose sole claim to fame is funny entrances into his neighbors apartment. Camon. Tho I must say, this thing has made for some funny shit on tv, most of all my girl Elizabeth "Will Somebody Please Fuck the Dumb Out of Me?" Hasselbeck on "The View", who was saying that everyone should boycott the latest "Seinfeld" dvds. First of all, yes Elizabeth, you ARE the least racist person in the world, congratulations!!! I’m sure black people will now join your fight to keep W in office a third term. Secondly, I couldn’t help but laugh at this one – yeah, I’m sure the three black Seinfeld fans in the country will take a stand. "Seinfeld" is my show, but I can’t say they really busted their hump to show any racial diversity. Which, ironically, may be more honest to real life anyways. But other than Jackie Childs, the only other black character I recall is when Kramer had a black girlfriend, and what happened?….tada, over-tanned himself before meeting her family. Blackface always cooks! Though now that I think of it, could the show’s recurrent nod to black people be George never tipping waitresses? HIYOOOOOOOOOOO!! I’m kidding people!!! I joke, relax!!!!
5) The thing that I can’t shake about that video of Michael Richards is the reaction of the black people he insulted. They kept saying "There’s no call for that!" over and over. What?? Who the fuck was he calling ni—er, this guy?
Seriously, I don’t wanna stereotype black people here, but I seriously doubt that any conversation I could have with a black person would go like this:
Xmastime: You’re a n---er!
Guy: what??!! There’s no call for that!
Xmastime:n---er !!
Guy: There’s no call for that, golly!!
Xmastime: n---er n---er n---er!!
Guy: there’s no call for that! I’m hurt!! I’m
offended!! I…I…I’m going on the ‘Today Show’!!!!
Camon. This whole thing does put a chink in the armor of my post 9-11 policy of never flying on a plane with no black people on board. White people, we’re stupid and gay enough to say "everybody just sit tight and do what the nice man with the boxcutter says." Black dudes would be like "I’m going out cause of a box cutter? A BOX cutter? Ooooh, HELL no!"
6) And speaking of black people. How come I’ve never met a black guy that’s scared of me, yet every one I’ve ever known or seen is terrified of dogs? What’s this all about?
7) But what the fuck IS up with Pig Pen? Here’s a kid walking around encased in a cloud of filth and dirt. Great. How fast would his fucking parents get thrown in jail by social services today? But, more importantly, what does this asshole have going on that’s so great that he’s friends with everybody even though he’s basically a moving sewer? Wouldn’t it be great if it turns out he’s like "Fuck it, I got a 14-inch dick, I ain’t bathing. Suck it, bitches!" Or maybe he’s the one with the blow? The perrenial ‘heads-up 7-up’ champion?
8) Yesterday I played a song on my myspace page for a friend of mine. At the end he turns to me and actually says "Why so angry, buddy?" what? Why so angry? I’m broke. I don’t have a job. I haven’t had a girlfriend since 1995, the last time I got laid the only person on steroids was Delta Burke and McNuggets are up to $5/box….why so angry?!??! I’m not angry enough!!! Fucking christ. If anyone else wants to spray a gun around a crowded room the line should start here, fuckface.
9) Finally, thank God the new season of "The Real World" has begun. First of all, Colie might find herself as the all-time Mrs. Real World Xmastime. Secondly, I’m amused that one of the guys in the house in the first episode is wondering aloud if there’s gonna be a gay guy in the house. Jesus fucking christ. Just like the idiots who are shocked by how ridiculously amazing the house itself is and runs through it giggling, have you ever seen the show? YES. THERE WILL BE A GAY PERSON. I love it how this guy’s (Stephen? Is it Stephen? Yes) "religious beliefs" make him disapprove of homosexuality, but apparently Jesus doesn’t mind complete strangers spending 18 weeks in getting shitfaced and randomly fucking in a hot tub. Well, and apparently his religion does not allow tv either; surely that’s how he was able to miss the 396 previous episodes that feature at least one gay person. Including Pedro and Sean from season 3, the Prince Charles and Lady Di of gay reality couples.
The other thing I picked up with this new bunch is every single fucking one of them, upon either meeting a roommate or talking to the camera, went out of their way to say "hey, one thing about me you should know is I like to have a good time." Really? Wow. Shouldn’t we assume that since you’re a living, breathing thing you’d prefer a "good time" to a "bad time"? Is there rally anybody out there saying "One thing you should know about me, I like to slam my nuts in a cash register while attending puppy funerals." Just like youth itself, this show is wasted on the young. I will not rest until MTV has a season where the cast is at least 35 years old.
10) Britney. Hanging out with Paris. Please stop. Like everyone else, I assumed that I’d stop reading about you hanging around with blond talentless airheads the second you dumped K-Fed. Enough.
11) One thing that bugs me about action movies is when someone is on foot and being chased by a car. They run in a straight line in front of the car; I believe in adrenaline too, but I’m not sure you can outrun a car that can go 120mph. Wouldn’t is make more sense to simply step aside as the car gets close? Wouldn’t the driver be like "…oh yeah, I gotcha, I gotcha, taste me fender you…oh shit…crap….okay okay, lemme turn around here…hold on, u turn…hoooooold on…." Doesn’t it drive you crazy? "Run Jimmy run!!" oh, no the car caught him!! Wow!!
Anyways. Putting my Xmas Wish List together. Will keep you posted. Though I’m sure the words "naked pictures" might make an appearance.
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