Mega Superior Gold

Ever have that funny feeling you were raped as a child?

2010-06-23T05:54:00.000-07:00

No? Really, you don't? How odd of you. You must have been an ugly faggot as a kid then, because apparently, I was fucking irresistible. What do I mean? Well let’s put it this way, I still have vague memories from a very young age of absolute sexual discomfort, long before I should have had any feelings of sexuality whatsoever. What's that you say,"tell me more, MSG, I want to see and possibly sniff your dirty laundry." Well back off you fucking pervert, you sound just like my Nana. That's right, my Nana. She is actually where this story begins and ends. A darker soul than MSG's Nana you're unlikely to find. I honestly don't think she raped me but, then again, I've blacked out about 90 percent of my childhood from ages five through nine so I can't be sure. But I have been putting clues together in my head for years now that lead to some shady shit and it’s time I presented you with my fascinating evidence. The problem is, I'm not 100% sure of it's accuracy. All these memories seem very dreamlike to me. Although, why would anyone "dream" these things up? The memories also seem as though they may have been influenced by things I heard later on about Nana. It's all very confusing, but, honestly, I need to just get it out. Why not a burden a therapist with it? Well, I could, but then I wouldn't have the challenge of trying make child molestation humorous. Of course, my wife thought this was the least funny thing she's ever read in her life. But, then, she didn't think The Diary of Anne Frank was funny either. What a stiff! But if you really are sure you want to know why I think I may have been touched in the bad place as a child, then I shall reward your fortitude with yet another of my childhood Tales of Whoa!

(No, there aren't too many priests reading this right now, chalice in one hand, phallus in the other)

ARTSY PROLOGUE: For years now, I have been walking my dog in a public park. In this park, there is a small brook that bisects the trail we often take. Right where the trail is bisected, there is an exposed concrete tube that the water must go through, creating a “bridge” of sorts. The concrete tube has been clogged for years and for as long as I’ve been going there I’ve been trying to dislodge that clog. No joke. It drove me fucking crazy that I couldn't help this stream flow freely. Well, today I did it. I unclogged that fucker. And I don't think it's a coincidence that it happened today, because as I watched the rotting leaves and sticks come out of the tube like putrid black vomit, I realized that’s exactly what I was doing with this post. So sit back and enjoy my putrid black vomit.

CHAPTER 1:

Let me start by saying that as a very young boy, I loved my Nana. She was always so happy to see me and made me feel like the cutest little guy in the world. She never let an opportunity to hug and kiss me or have me sit on her lap go by (that already sounds filthy but to me it wasn't. Not then). She showered me with toys and candy. And occasionally, gold. At least that's what she said it was. She called them our golden showers and I loved to take them with her. She would sprinkle liquid gold all over my face.....oh I'm kidding! Did you think I was serious? My God you people are sick. Anyway, Nana, didn’t just adore me. She loved my brothers too. But I was the youngest and we all know how the young ‘uns are always the hottest, right? My taut little six year-old buns must’ve looked like an unblemished, barely ripe pear next to the decrepit asses of my twelve and fourteen year-old brothers. So I think that’s why I got the most “special” attention. But enough about young, beautiful, succulent me, let’s hear more about Nana, right?

Nana may have been considered a pretty woman when she was younger but it's not something I ever saw. She always had lipstick that was too red smeared on her lips, which then found its way into the wrinkly folds surrounding her mouth. Even as a young kid who shouldn't know any better, I found that nauseating. She also wore too much perfume. It would smell up the whole fucking house. And that's how she liked it. She wanted you to know SHE was there. Attention, was her drug. Well that and cheap champagne. Actually, that, cheap champagne and tiny, little penises. In an effort to get ever more attention, Nana made sure she could be heard from miles away. Especially when it came to her laugh. It was more of a cackle, actually, a sound that could pierce through military bombing. My brothers and I often recollect how we were startled awake at night by her cackle coming from the card game the adults were playing downstairs. Nana was also known for making a grand entrance (ie, a loud entrance) into any room. Do you know people like that? It's so fucking annoying. It's all about them. But, as I child I thought it was like an act on TV. I was entertained by it. Besides, it always seemed like she was so happy to see my brothers and I. She genuinely seemed to love us. Which makes all of this so much harder to comprehend. Because I had no reason to think my Nana was doing anything other than loving me, I would happily play along with her games. Like the game where she would make my brothers and I kiss on the lips. She would literally force our heads together- we fought it every step of the way- until we kissed. We actually have this on film! Then there was the tickle game. That was when she would get me to sit on her lap and then she'd tickle me all over (yes ALL over) and say "come here you little stinker!" as I ran away. Thinking back, I was running away because I felt discomfort, but I didn't comprehend that then. I thought it was just part of the game. That tickling never seemed strange to me, just playful. Until a few later when I realized grabbing your grandson's junk in a "playful" manner isn't cool. It’s not cool in any fucking manner for God’s sake. But I guess a playful manner is better than a seriously erotic one, right?

Well now, this has gotten rather unpleasant, hasn't it? Oooooh I'm so sorry for you. It's must be so agonizing to have to read about an experience like the one I fucking lived through!!!

I apologize for the above outburst. That tends to happen every now and then (little clogs being dislodged from the stream). Please allow me to continue exposing myself to you.

When I was approximately five to seven years-old, I had the most terrifying nightmare. In this dream I woke up to go to the bathroom, which was down a long, dark, thin hallway from my room, but before I got to the bathroom, half of the floor disappeared exposing a black abyss below. With most of the floor gone, I was left balancing precariously on a plank of hard wood flooring barely wide enough for my tiny feet. From within the abyss I hear a deep, sinister voice calling to me. I thought it was the devil. Satan. I was six years-old, dreaming about satan. Yeah, that’s normal. Anyway, in my dream, I wanted to run away but couldn't and then I felt clammy hands pull me down. I woke up, fucking terrified. So what, you had a nightmare, you say? Okay, well, consider that I knew nothing of hell or demons at that age so how did that imagery make it into my dream? Strange but not so freaky, you say? Well, how about this for an M. Knight Shamalamanmanaman twist: the only other room in that hallway between mine and the bathroom was, dun duh duh, Nana’s room (when she stayed with us). In fact, in my dream, I was directly in front of the door to her room when the floor disappeared and the demonic voice called to me. It’s really hard to convey how horrifying that voice was, but try to imagine hearing a demon’s voice calling to you through completely innocent five-year old ears. Deep, loud and full of menace, it’s unlike anything you ever heard before. Pure evil. As you might have guessed, I do think dreams are important stories we tell ourselves to help us navigate through life. This dream didn’t help me until three decades years later however. I mean think of that for a second, I remembered a dream from thirty-five years ago! Normally, I forget my dreams within hours of waking, but this one remained- vividly remained - in my head for thirty-five fucking years. Why? I feel it's because something traumatic, something evil, happened to me in that room. But I still don't know for sure what it was. I have theories. And I know of at least once when something very wrong went down in that room, but more on that later.

If you’ve made it this far, congratulations, you sick fuck. What is wrong with you? I’m going to end this “chapter” now, but I promise to be back to tell you more sordid stories of molestation and

unbelievably inappropriate behavior. And to keep you salivating (through your genitals, naturally) for more. I want you to know that in a future post I promise to tell you exactly what happened in Nana’s room one night. Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as you think. It was more of a Norman Rockwell rapey kind of thing. I’m kidding again, but it was fucked up, just not as fucked up as you might think. And then I promise to tell you of the unbelievable revenge I exacted on Nana several years later. Surely that you will enjoy. Think of it as creamy, sugary icing on a pile of rotting feces. Thanks for listening and have fun with the rest of your perfect day, you un-molested asshole.

Are you ready for Chapter 2?

2010-06-22T07:23:00.000-07:00

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Let's do this shit, yo!

CHAPTER 2: Eating out Nana.

So there I was, a naive seven year-old boy staring into his Nana's crotch. I didn't know why but she had put one of my mom's famous sour cream cupcakes right between her legs and told me to "take a bite, honey." I was repulsed. But I'm even more repulsed now that you think this part of the story is true! What's wrong with you? Don't look at me like that. You don't think this shit is funny? Well you can suck my dick, Nana! Okay, honestly, I don't even find any of this funny. I was just trying to make you comfortable before I do the exact opposite to you. Are you ready? Here's the real story.

CHAPTER 2: Perusing with Nana.

So I'll make this quick and painless for you. Why not? After all, it's only been an agonizingly slow, psychologically devastating 30 plus years for me. You deserve better than that. What happened in Nana's room still feels like a dream to me. Or should I say nightmare? No, I really do mean dream. Not that is was dreamy, but the memory is very dreamlike. It was such an unreal situation that I think my young brain cataloged it in a place that's not easily accessible and thus the "dream" like tone of it. I think it's a natural defense mechanism. If I'm not 100% sure it happened, then it can't really hurt me, right? ( No, I'm not sobbing uncontrollably right now.) Anyway, the reason I tell you about the haziness of the memory is to reveal the thought process of a victim. I can hear Spanish Johnny now, "Oooh, thanks for the psychology lesson, MSG, you raped pussy!" But I do think it's important to the story because for many years I doubted these memories. Until one day when it dawned on me that no kid is ever going to "dream" or create a false memory like this. Who the fuck would (or could) do that? I was way too young to even conjure up such things. So here's what happened. My father, for reasons I will never fully comprehend, used to place Penthouse and Playboy magazines (which he had subscriptions to) on the nightstand in Nana's room before her arrival. It's an act, I guess, that's akin to a hotel leaving a chocolate on your pillow at night. Hey there weary traveler, here's a little somethin' for ya to enjoy! I mean, it's so fucked up, right? Well, around Casa MSG, it wasn't ever questioned. It was just accepted. Hey who was I to judge? I was seven years old for fuck sake. Besides, maybe she liked to read the articles. God, how I wish that were the case. Then I may have never heard her voice call me into that room. And I wouldn't have had to stand by her bedside and look at pictures of giant breasts and fully open vaginas with her. Yes, that's right, instead of cute little nighttime stories like you'll find over on Spanish Johnny's blog, I had to look at Penthouse magazine with my Nana. It only happened once (I think) actually, but once was fucking enough! I remember only one bit of it very specifically. And that is when I very softly and shyly said "yeah" when she asked me if I thought the ladies were pretty (See, now that sounds a little too made up, right? It sounds like how Hollywood would portray it. But I swear that's what I remember. And because it sounds so "perfectly" fucked up, I tend to wonder if I have created this memory for some reason. But why would I do that? It makes no sense.) Anyway, after that, it's a bit hazy from being tucked away in my own personal vault of horror for so long. I've thought about it over the years and rationalize all of it (the tickling, the brother kissing, the Penthouse peeking) this way: Nana was just a terribly sick person (duh!) who didn't know the consequences of her actions. Somehow, that works for me. I doesn't make me less angry or sad. I actually feel sorry for her too (like most victims). But, of course, I feel more sorry for that little boy (I can't even say it's me, it makes me so upset) who's life was irrevocably altered by that crazy bitch. I blame her for so much of my anger. I blame her for a lot of happiness I can't feel. I blame her for my incredible uneasiness with being touched by people. I mean, people NEED to be touched. I can't stand it. I'm deprived of that basic human need thanks to her. To quote from a song by a band I never thought I'd publicly quote, Everclear - from the song "Father of Mine"- "I will never be safe. I will never be sane. I will always be weird inside. I will always be lame." Thanks a lot, you fucking nasty cunt. I hope it was worth it to you.

"CHAPTER 3: The Revengening" will be coming soon. Trust me, it's worth waiting for.

YOU'RE IN for a treat, Nana.

2010-06-21T07:09:00.000-07:00

CHAPTER 3: The revengening

So, here we are. Kinda the end of the Nana saga. I guess there are more stories I could tell about her. Enough to fill a book probably. Wouldn't that be a wonderful read to take on vacation with you? "Honey, are we going to swim with the dolphins today or are you just gonna sit there and read about that kid's Nana's pussy hair all day?" Mmmmm, Nana pubes. In my house we actually referred to her as the "Tooth Hairy" because when she would stay over we'd always mysteriously wake up with curly, pubic hair on our lips the next morning. Gee, I wonder how that happened? Okay, okay, you're used to my formula by now so surely you know that was made up. But this next story is one hundred percent true and I remember it vividly. No "dreamlike" vague shit here.

Nana, for all her flaws, was at least always the life of the party. Yes as a grown man now I can see she was the kind of person you would hate to have at your party because she was so loud and just wanted so much attention, but as a child I kind of admired it. I liked to hear the grown ups having fun in the other room, and I could always tell she was at the center of it somehow. Of course, the grown ups always had alcohol at every gathering. My Dad drank vodka. My mom, compari and soda or a kir royale. Nana loved champagne. Cheap, shit champagne. It was brand called "Great Western" but she acted like it was fucking Kristal. Each popping of the cork was celebrated with a howl and she insisted that my mom pull out the super expensive imported crystal flutes for this nasty swill. Nana was indeed a walking contradiction herself so it makes sense. Often times, as the slaves, I mean children of the household, my brothers and I were called upon to fetch drinks for the in-laws. As a real young kid I didn't mind, but when I started getting old enough to not care about pleasing these assholes I resented it. One summer day, when I was about 11, the adult gathering took place in our covered porch. I remember very clearly watching TV with my brother when we got the call to fetch another round of drinks. We were so annoyed. Of course, we were just so angry in general all the time. How could we not be? But, by this time we were no longer easy, vulnerable prey for Nana so we were left alone physically. Mentally, however, we were still tortured. But we started to rise against it in our own subtle ways. Just by simply not fully accepting Nana's bullshit as we used to was a rebellion to us. We knew at this point that she was not normal. I put it mildly because we didn't really know just how fucked up she was. I mean, when you grow up with that as normal behavior in your house, you think it's normal. But then you venture out a little bit. You see how your friend's families interact and you think "hmmm, something's definitely up with Nana." We thought she was eccentric, but we also just resented and hated her without fully realizing quite why (hmm, repressed memories perhaps?). But back to the summer day. After we were called upon to bring a round of drinks from the kitchen, my brother and I dutifully collected the empty glasses and took orders. Nana, of course, wanted her delicious champagne. So off to the kitchen we went. I was pouring Nana's champagne when my brother suggested we do something to it. He was much older than me and thus could usually manipulate me into doing anything. On this particular afternoon, however, I needed no mind games to make me do what I was about to do. I asked my brother "what should we do?" His answer was so beautiful in its simplicity: "Piss in it." At that very moment my life changed. It's like I suddenly saw through different eyes. YES! Let's fucking piss in it. God my brother was so awesome. My hero. What a great idea. I would follow him into hell. Or, in this case, out of it. And so it was set in stone like one of the commandments. Thou shalt urinate in thy molesting grandmother's drink. But who would do it? Well, naturally since it was his idea, I would have to be the one to execute it. I was happy to do it. We snuck outside behind the kitchen with Nana's glass of champagne. It was early evening and it was still light out so our neighbor may have seen us, but I didn't care. My brother held the glass in his shaking (from hysterically laughing) hands and I, well, I pissed in it. Not too much so as to be obvious, but also not too little so as to be innocuous. It was a little less than half piss and half champagne. It was Champiss. And I fucking happily served it her. I handed it to her and walked away a new man. A man barely able to contain his laughter as she happily declared "ooooh a big one!" A big one indeed, you dumb bitch. Choke on it.

-Fin

Allen

2010-05-12T08:47:00.001-07:00

CUNT.

2010-04-28T15:07:00.001-07:00

Laura Bush Opens Up About Crash

By ANAHAD O'CONNOR (MSG's comments in red, obviously)

Laura Bush has finally opened up publicly about the mysterious car accident she had when she was 17, a crash that claimed the life of a high school friend on a dark country road in Midland, Tex.

In her new book, “Spoken From the Heart,” Mrs. Bush describes in vivid detail the circumstances surrounding the crash, which has haunted her for most of her adult life ( oh yes, she must surely be tortured. Though, not nearly as tortured as the prisoners who had their teeth electrocuted with her husband's blessing) and which became the subject of questions and speculation when it was revealed during her husband’s first presidential run. A copy of the book, scheduled for release in early May, was obtained by The New York Times at a bookstore.

On several occasions in the book, Mrs. Bush admonishes her husband’s political adversaries for “calling him names,” and she pointedly rebuts criticism of some of his key decisions. She suggested that his highly criticized fly-over of New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina was in the best interests of the victims and aid workers on the ground.(You mean the aid workers who were already being blocked from entering the city by good ol' Brownie?)

“He did not want one single life to be lost because someone was catering to the logistical requirements of a president,” she says about the Katrina fly-over. “He did not want his convoy of vehicles to block trucks delivering water or food or medical supplies, or to impede National Guardsmen from around the nation who were arriving to help.”(You stupid, blind bitch.)

Mrs. Bush also suggests, apparently for the first time, that she, Mr. Bush, and several members of their staff may have been poisoned during a visit to Germany for a G8 Summit. They all became mysteriously sick, and the president was bedridden for part of the trip. (It's called the Flu you dolt. Rich assholes get it too, you know. It's not just for poor people.) The Secret Service investigated the possibility they were poisoned, she writes, but doctors could only conclude that they all contracted a virus. After noting several high-profile poisonings, she wrote, “we never learned if any other delegations became ill, or if ours, mysteriously, was the only one.”(Ha-ha. "Mysteriously". Yes, I'm sure there was no circumstance whatsoever where only you and the people on your plane could get sick. I wonder how that could happen? It must have been terrorism. It's the answer for everything!")

Later, Mrs. Bush takes on Nancy Pelosi, the Democrat who is speaker of the House of Representatives, for calling Mr. Bush “an incompetent leader” and for saying he lacked judgment, knowledge and experience. She also bristles at the insults thrown at Mr. Bush by the Democratic leader in the Senate, Harry Reid, quoting him as calling her husband a “loser” and a “liar.”(He forgot "murderer", "retard", "war criminal" and "born-again faggot")

“The comments were uncalled for and graceless,” she writes. “While a president’s political opponents, as well as his supporters, are entitled to make what they see as legitimate criticisms, and while our national debates should be spirited, these particular worlds revealed the petty and parochial nature of some who serve in Congress.” ( Hmmm. Interesting, because in an interview with TIME magazine in August of 2004: When asked about whether the swift-boat ads are unfair to John Kerry, Mrs. Bush replies, “Do I think they’re unfair? Not really.” )

But it is her description of the deadly accident, and its subsequent impact on her life and her faith, that is the subject Mrs. Bush had most shied away from speaking about in her public life. On a November night in 1963, Mrs. Bush and a girlfriend were hurrying to a drive-in theater when Mrs. Bush, at the wheel of her father’s Chevy Impala (more like an Impale-a) , ran a stop sign on a small road and smashed into a car being driven by Mike Douglas, a star athlete and popular student at her school.

“In those awful seconds, the car door must have been flung open by the impact and my body rose in the air until gravity took over and I was pulled, hard and fast, back to earth,” she says. “The whole time,” she adds later, “I was praying that the person in the other car was alive. In my mind, I was calling ‘Please, God. Please, God. Please, God,’ over and over and over again.”(Really, the whole time you were in the air you were praying for the person in the other car? Well, hard as that is to believe I do sincerely believe that 0.5 seconds was the amount of time you spent thinking about that person. As evidenced by your selfish actions after the accident.")

Mrs. Bush reveals that she was wracked by guilt for years after the crash, especially after not attending the funeral and for not reaching out to the parents of the dead teenager. Her parents did not want her to show up at the funeral, she states, and she ended up sleeping through it. (Wow. She has the balls to admit that? That's the most selfish thing I have ever fucking heard. EVER. She is unbelievable.)

Mrs. Bush concedes that she and her friend were chatting when she ran the stop sign. But she also suggests a host of factors beyond her control played a role — the pitch-black road, an unusually dangerous intersection, the small size of the stop sign, and the car the victim was driving. (Ha-ha. So it's his fault he died because of the car he was driving. That sounds like about right for a Bush.)

“It was sporty and sleek, and it was also the car that Ralph Nader made famous in his book Unsafe at Any Speed,” she states. “He claimed the car was unstable and prone to rollover accidents. A few years later, the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration went so far as to investigate the Corvair’s handling, but it didn’t reach the same grim conclusions. I was driving my dad’s much larger and heavier Chevy Impala. But none of that would ever ease the night of November 6. Not for me, and never for the Douglases.” (A little late for the humility and humanity, don't cha think, Laur?")

“I lost my faith that November, lost it for many, many years,” she says. “It was the first time that I had prayed to God for something, begged him for something, not the simple childhood wishing on a star but humbly begging for another human life. And it was as if no one heard. My begging, to my seventeen-year-old mind, had made no difference. The only answer was the sound of Mrs. Douglas’s sobs on the other side of that thin emergency room curtain.” (Okay, that's harsh. She has to live with that awful memory. Yet, I wonder if she hears the sobs of the thousands of mother's who lost their sons and daughters in a bullshit war her husband created to make his friends some money?)

Mrs. Bush goes on to say that in her public life, she has encouraged young drivers who have been in serious accidents to speak to loved ones, counselors or spiritual or pastoral advisers.

“But while I give this advice in my letters, I didn’t do any of that,” she reveals. “Most of how I ultimately coped with the crash was by trying not to talk about it, not to think about it, to put it aside. Because there wasn’t anything I could do. Even if I tried.” (That's gotta be the most selfish, rich-white-cunt thinking of all-time.)

What an unbelievable pussy!

2010-04-28T08:44:00.000-07:00

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And no, I'm not talking about my Nana's. I'm talking about this fucking gaywad:

Texas Governor Rick Perry shoots, kills 'wily' coyote while jogging

News Wire Services

The governor of Texas has a message for "wily" coyotes out there: Don't mess with my dog.

Pistol-packing Republican Rick Perry told The Associated Press on Tuesday he needed just one shot from the laser-sighted pistol he sometimes carries while jogging to take down a coyote that menaced his puppy during a February run near Austin.

Perry said he carries a .380 Ruger — loaded with hollow-point bullets — when jogging on trails because he is afraid of snakes. He'd also seen coyotes in the undeveloped area.

"I knew there were a lot of predators out there. You'll hear a pack of coyotes. People are losing small cats and dogs all the time out there in that community," Perry said.

"They're very wily creatures," Perry said of coyotes.

When one came out of the brush toward his daughter's Labrador retriever, Perry charged.

"Don't attack my dog or you might get shot ... if you're a coyote," he said Tuesday.

A concealed handgun permit holder, he carries the pistol in a belt. Perry said the laser-pointer helped make a quick, clean kill.

"It was not in a lot of pain," he said. "It pretty much went down at that particular juncture."

The governor left the coyote where it fell.

"He became mulch," Perry said.

He was not accompanied by his security detail when he encountered the beast.

What a pussy. He's afraid of snakes so he carries a pistol? Girl Scouts are manlier than this d-bag. Do you know how easy it is to scare away a coyote? All you have to do is cough and they flee with their tale between their legs like Rick Perry from a spider.

Classy.

2010-04-16T08:57:00.001-07:00

(stolen from Spanish Johnny's tagline no doubt)

(Shouldn't these kids be in schoo...oh never mind.)

You fucking pussy

2010-04-14T12:51:00.000-07:00

Holy shit, stop the fucking presses!!!!!!

2010-04-05T09:31:00.000-07:00

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I don't know if you guys are already aware of this, but according to a woman on the elevator this morning, today is Monday. Now, everybody calm down. I know this is huge news worthy of announcing to no one in particular on an elevator but we must remain calm because this same well-informed woman also noted that "Friday will come soon enough." Phew. What a relief.

Too bad her death won't come soon enough.

Fuck you, eBay

2010-03-30T09:54:00.000-07:00

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...for fueling my belief that I can buy back my childhood. It started out with a simple search to find this "toy" I vaguely remember playing with as a young lad. It was the Planet of the Apes (POTA) Colorforms set. Surely the pussiest of all POTA toys, but give a kid a break, I already had every POTA action figure and playset, so this was one of the missing straws in my Apes cap (no, that made sense). I remember really wanting it but not knowing why. Well, now that I've sufficiently got that feeling back, why not go all the way and buy the fucking thing, Right? But why? Why do I want this piece of shit?
After all, it was made of the absolute cheapest materials available at the time in Japan and I think I only played with it once or twice before it got lost underneath all the new things that interested me. Namely Penthouse, Playboy and Jugg Fucklers (Mr. Show ref. #201). Perhaps that's why I want it so bad. Because I never really got to play with it in the first place due to my increasing interests in naked women. I can regale you for hours with tales of my "formative" years, but I'll hold off for now. Let's go back to the innocent time in MSG's life. The time before Chinese Dentist boners and walking in on my parents fucking. A time when my toys ruled. Sure it was short-lived but it was an amazing time. So I guess it's no surprise that I want to buy that back, even though it's a totally ridiculous notion. I mean, even if I got a hold of a POTA Colorforms set, what would I do with it? It would just sit in my basement unappreciated like my recently unearthed beer can collection. Somehow this logic failed to reach my brain, however, as I scoured eBay for ever more toys and my hunger to buy back my youth continued unabated, though not un-masturbated as I jacked off seven times to the following images:

Those are some cool fucking toys, right? I had quite a collection back then. Let's break those down a bit, shall we? The Jaws game was a horrible fucking game that made no sense. I lost all of the pieces that you were supposed to extract from the shark's mouth so it then became just a giant shark to swallow G.I. Joes, which was even more awesome than the game, but eventually the jaw came unhinged and the shark was destined to be yet another toy I set fire to in the backyard.

You can't still be possibly reading this post, can you? Even I'm bored as fuck by it. You are still reading? Okay, I guess I'll continue then.

Anyway, so next on the list is the Kiss dolls. Yes, I was mightily into Kiss in the late '70's just like most adolescent boys (whom I was also into), so it really baffles me as to why, when I finally got all four "dolls" (actually, they were "action figures", a-hole!), I decided to build a fake stage, put them on it, and burn it to the ground, disfiguring them permanently. Well, my intentions were not quite so destructive at first. My primary goal was to stage a Kiss concert and film it on my Dad's Super 8 camera. However, my ambitions got the better of me and I decided that in order to make it a truly authentic Kiss show, I had to have fireworks. Lots of 'em. Of course, being a privileged white boy in the suburbs with two significantly older brothers and a father who couldn't have cared less what his boys were up to, we always had access to plenty of fireworks and other combustibles. On this particular Summer afternoon, I had bottle rockets, firecrackers and jumping jacks. If you are unfamiliar with those terms, go to page 75 in your "I am a fucking pussy" handbook. So anyway, I split the jumping jacks and put them on front of the stage to simulate flash bombs. Then I broke the sticks off the bottle rockets and turned them upside down all around and above the stage to simulate Kiss' famous spark waterfalls. Finally, I taped the firecrackers to each of the four members of Kiss' bodies to simulate...I have no fucking idea. At this point I threw out the idea of being authentic for being cool as fuck instead. Then, to top off all this fucking stupidity, I had no film for the Super 8 camera but I took it out and "filmed" it nonetheless. WHY???? It makes no sense. Well, as you can imagine, the fireworks eventually started a fire on stage and this was the most awesome turn of events ever so I took some lighter fluid (why was that always so accessible? My dad didn't even have a lighter) and turned it into a raging bonfire. Black, toxic smoke from Gene Simmons' burning hair filled my lungs and I didn't give a shit. I wasn't afraid of cancer. After all, I created this beautifully destructive fire, I was the God of Thunder! Then Paul Stanley started to melt. So I took him out of the fire and proceeded to drip his bubbling, liquid plastic all over some ant hills. Poor ants, what must they have thought? I imagined them screaming and running around while the molten plastic instantly cremated their hillmates one by one. I imagined that some of the lucky ones who escaped the burning death were wondering aloud "Oh cruel Gods, what hath we done to deserve the hot Paul Stanley plastic death?" And yes, I'm quite sure that ants speak in ye' old English. What do you think they sound like, Woody Allen? Please. Anyway, that's what happened to the Kiss figures. I'm not sure I want to buy them back. They're expensive. And they're gay.

You still here? What a loser.

Then there was the Stretch Armstrong foe Stretch Monster (not too clever of a name). That thing was cool....for the first day I had it. The novelty of being able to pull and bend this monster as much as you wanted and it would still revert back to it's original shape lasted literally about a day. After that, I was like "fuck you, monster. You think you're indestructible? We'll see about that" and I was off on a mission to destroy something else that once made me happy (not too much of a pattern in my life.) My brother who was 6 years older than me had a BB gun. How many awesome stories start off that way? The gun was a powerful little 10 pump bastard with a solid wood pump and stock, not that cheap plastic shit they make nowadays. This gun was a horrible object for a young boy with no regard for anything to have. Something I feel truly sickened by to this very day is how I caused a mass extinction of frogs in the pond across from my house one summer. I shot so many of the poor things that they could not repopulate. In the Spring of that year, the singing of the frogs was so loud you could hear it all the way down the street. By mid-Summer the singing was gone and has not been heard since. I really think if there's any justice in this world, a giant frog will shoot me in the head with a cannon some day. I deserve it. Anyway, I took my brothers BB gun and my stretch monster out to the stone wall behind my house for a proper execution. I pumped the standard 10 pumps and let him have it. The BBs smacked the soft monster body and sunk inside, but he didn't sustain much damage. The BB wounds just healed themselves. I was astounded. I shot it probably ten times and it never even fell over. "What are you made of, Monster", I shouted to the heavens (not too dramatic and actually untrue). Then I gave the rifle the dreaded 12 pumps. That's two more fucking pumps than necessary, asshole. Let's see you do more. I fired away and the same thing happened, of course. Physics were not my strong suit then or now. Apparently, common sense was something I severely lacked as well because when I squeezed one of the BB holes in the monster's skin a thick red jelly-like substance oozed out that smelled sweet so, naturally, I tasted it. God only knows what kind of weird chemicals I ingested that day.

Good Lord, why are you still reading this?

The last of the toys pictured above is the totally kick-ass Guns of Navarone playset. Even if you weren't into Army men, this was a cool item to have because you could use it for other action figures. I was definitely not a purist when it came to toys. I didn't keep the Star Wars figures separate from the Micronauts or the rubber Godzilla's away from the Barbies.....I mean GI Joes. GI JOES!!! Ha-ha. Honestly, I didn't even know what a "Barbie" was. I know it sounded gay though. Okay, okay, all brilliant comedic writing aside, of course I knew what a Barbie was back then. She was an object that all my action figures wanted to fuck, even though I had no idea what "fucking" was at the time. That changed a few year later when a wise old sage of a cousin told me what "fucking" was (that's a story I'll blog about some other day, but let me just say that if this kid is still fucking they way he told me fucking was meant to be, then he should be in fucking jail. Not to mention Fucking-Jail) So, to make an unbelievably long and boring story short, the Guns of Navarone playset ruled. I loved it on every level. It was a multi-tasker toy and it was cool as hell. Good thing my brother and his asshole friend took it out in the woods one day and lit it on fire. Dicks.

Okay, that's enough for now. If you made it this far, bless your heart. Someday, I will speak of more of the toys from my youth, the objects that made me so very happy and fulfilled. That is, until my dirty dick and balls (What? That's what we called puberty in my house.) entered the picture and rendered all toys completely useless.

Think about this, Eggheads.

2010-03-30T08:56:00.000-07:00

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A Malaysian boner is to _________,
as an Angel is to farting rainbows.

And no, the answer is not "a bloodied vagina". That was the answer to last week's question about what was found in my Grandpa's freezer.

I cannot think of a face I want to punch harder.

2010-03-24T08:49:00.000-07:00

....or fuck more gently.

Corpsey Haim

2010-03-10T12:21:00.000-08:00

It's super sad how being good-looking, rich, semi-talented (come on, Lucas was good!) and having tons of pussy available at a moments notice can destroy a life. If only Corey had seen this documentary, things might have turned out a little differently.

Toyotal Recall

2010-03-09T06:44:00.000-08:00

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Yet another dipshit who has never heard of the fucking neutral gear claims that his life was endangered by a faulty accelerator in his Toyota.

Now, believe me, I don't think that these mechanical malfunctions are cool by any means, but holy fucking shit asshole, throw the fucking car in neutral and then glide to a stop. Use your fucking head. I love how this douche says at the end of the interview "obviously, if I can have a problem then anyone can have a problem." What do you mean "if I can have a problem"? Who the fuck are you, Superman? Get over yourself, you narcissistic asshole. Of course it can happen to anybody. Anything can happen to anybody. God, I hate people who think they are so special. Like those assholes who think that every thought they have is so amazing that it must be shared with the world on a blog.

P-fucking-S Motherfuckers,
I don't know for certain if The Daily Show has already done that headline. It came too easy to me this morning so I thought perhaps I'd seen it somewhere before, but I refuse to Google it and find out if it's been done before because I am so pleased with myself for "creating" it.

I have a fever and the only cure is NO MORE FUCKING COWBELL!

2010-03-01T08:47:00.000-08:00

First of all, how fucking stupid do you have to be to go and stand on the side of a mountain and watch people ski down it? What, you really enjoyed seeing that orange blur that was supposedly Lindsay Vonn blow by you at 80 mph? My God you are fucking retarded. But it gets even better. You're so dumb, you actually think these finely tuned athletes who have trained for decades to concentrate on every micro-bump their ski hits and every nerve-ending in their body will hear that Goddamn cowbell you're ringing in support of them as they fly by you? All cowbells should be taken from anyone wishing to be in the crowd at a skiing event. And then their lives should be taken as well. They're worthless to society.

Leave the fucking thing alone already

2010-02-02T10:51:00.001-08:00

Really? Groundhog Day? You're still gonna go through with that, huh? What the fuck is wrong with you people? Why does the media cover this fucking gay retarded event where they scare the shit out of some defenseless groundhog for hours on end for absolutely no purpose whatsoever. Why does this ridiculous tradition continue? Are there still assholes who really believe we'll have an early Spring if the "Punxsutawney Phil" sees his fucking shadow? If just the idea of it doesn't seem gay enough to you, then let me direct your attention to the exact location where this event occurs: Gobbler's Knob. That's right, the clever dipshits of Panxsutawney, PA call the little knoll on which they hold this ridiculous event "Gobbler's Knob." Look it up. I'm not making that up. If that's still not dumb enough for you, just have one look at this fucking asshole (below). Are you kidding me with the old-timey mustache and clothing? You fucking sorry douche of a man. Will you really go through this day proud of what you accomplished? God, I would love it if that fucking creature just chewed a huge new asshole in that your face.

"Look at me, Dad. I bet you're proud of me now!!

What's that you say? Groundhog Day is for children? It's to let them feel like there's still some magic in the world? GO FUCK YOURSELF! Kids have enough fucking magic with the endless amounts of garbage you shove in front of their faces to entertain them and, let's be honest, to keep them from sucking the life-force out of you with their constant neediness.

Never one to be outdone, even the mayor of New York City, the 5th largest city in the world, Michael Bloomberg, lowers himself to the shameful exercise of torturing an animal for no apparent reason other than entertaining that hideous kid behind him.

No, this seems like a good use of the state's money. To watch this asshole get bit by the groundhog and then torture it by trying to grab it like a predator, scroll down inexplicably far below this sentence to the video.

Groundhog Day

Separated at afterbirth?

2010-02-02T10:39:00.000-08:00

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The New Orleans Saints are headed to the Super Bowl....

2010-01-25T06:56:00.001-08:00

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....thanks to questionable and corrupt officiating.

Okay, the 6 fumbles the Vikings had didn't help but those refs sucked balls and were definitely on the chocolate town payroll. That incomplete pass in overtime that was ruled a catch? Even after a fucking review? Bullshit. The Brady rule was completely thrown out the window apparently as Favre was openly wailed on below the knees. I could go on and on. That is, if I knew anything about the game of football. But I don't. All I know is Reggie Bush didn't get any pussy from his hot, slutty girlfriend last night and he won't when he loses the Super Bowl for his team either. The Saints are assholes and I hope the bad luck levee breaks for them on Sunday, February 7th.

Reggie's bush
(not too obvious of a joke)

No, I know a lot about football.

Dumb dick

2010-01-20T12:23:00.000-08:00

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BOSTON — Republican Scott Brown, fresh from a stunning Massachusetts Senate victory that shook the power balance on Capitol Hill, declared Wednesday that his election had sent a "very powerful message" that voters are weary of backroom deals and Washington business-as-usual.

Ummm, isn't that the same claim the Dems made when Obama was elected? It's all bullshit. Nothing will change. Scott Brown is a douche. Martha Coakely is a dumb bitch. Washington is full of both types and always will be. Wow, stunning revelation, huh? Well fuck you. You're lucky I'm writing anything on this gay, lame blog. Speaking of gay and lame, how abut the fact that Doug Flutie's band played at the Scott Brown victory party? How fucking low-rent is that? And they played "Sweet Home Alabama?" Doug Flutie's band played Sweet Home Alabama? That sentence shouldn't ever be written unless it's a reference to the sex act of the same name. What, you've never done a "Doug Flutie's Band Plays Sweet Home Alabama"with your best girl? You fucking fag.

Let us not forget Hatey

2010-01-19T09:32:00.000-08:00

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Hatey is the country I grew up in and ever since this whole Haiti disaster struck, people have forgotten about Hatey, the unholy land of disgust. The place where nothing is accepted and everything despised. Oh it's a horrible country, but it has it's place in this shitty world so let's not forget Hatey, okay? While you're feeling all warm and fuzzy and charitable just remember that there is no God and if there was he'd probably have you killed because you're only giving to charity to make yourself feel better, not the beneficiaries. You could care less about them, you fucking asshole.

This message of abhorrence brought to you by the Hatey tourism council. Come visit us for a while, you fucking piece of shit.

Why are you still checking this site?

2010-01-13T07:03:00.000-08:00

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Loser.

Not too prolific.

This can't possibly be real, can it?

2009-10-20T11:35:00.000-07:00

So very fat and so very stupid.

Bumper sticker douche

2009-10-14T10:18:00.000-07:00

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On my way into work today, a car passed me with the following bumper stickers on it:

1) Minor Threat
2) The Clash
3) I don't brake for Yankees fans
4) Fast pitch softball!

What a fucking badass, huh?

Just shut the fuck up.

2009-09-24T11:47:00.002-07:00

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This rules for so many reasons.

This is nearly as good. Too bad Trey looks like such a douche. His solo is mind blowing though.

Stop being a fucking dickbitch.

2009-09-24T11:47:00.001-07:00

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You know who you are. You're the fucking dumb dick in front of me every time I go through the "Fast Lane" (total misnomer) at the toll booth who slows down to a near stop before going through. Why? Why do you almost stop in the "Fast" Lane? Oh right, it's because you are such a retarded fuck and you don't have your transponder attached to your windshield like you're are supposed to. So instead you have to fish for the fucking thing in your purse or glove box. ("Glove box", incidentally, was Spanish Johnny's sister's nickname in high school.) Now, please tell me why you are so afraid to keep your Fast Lane transponder affixed to your windshield. Is it because you're frightened that someone will steal it and charge tens of dollars as they drive care-free between the two states that accept Fast Lane? Is it because it impairs your vision? Well I'm sure looking into your purse and sorting through all the vaginal yeast creams, used condoms and pictures of naked Chinese dentists in order to locate the transponder while driving doesn't impair your vision at all, huh? Honestly, I hope next time you're pausing at the Fast Lane to fetch your transponder a truck with a payload of medical waste tips over on you, dropping thousands of A.I.D.S., Hep C and Bleeding Asshole Disease (it's a problem in some third world countries) infected hypodermic needles into your open sun-roof. Each little prick of a needle inching you closer to a painful death.

No, our priorities are straight

2009-09-15T05:50:00.000-07:00

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Kanye West makes three (3!) public apologies to Taylor Swift for interrupting her fucking MTV award acceptance speech but that racist fucking rude republican pig, Joe Wilson, refuses to apologize more than once for interrupting the fucking President of the United States? Fuck you. And fuck the fucking gay media for sucking so much balls. And fuck this gay blog for existing. I hate it.

This has not been photoshopped in any way

2009-09-04T05:31:00.000-07:00

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More like "Fairyland."

Homo milk. Yes, that's the name of a dairy product sold in Canada. "Homo" is short for homogenized (I hope). My brother sent the carton to me many years ago. Only now did I feel comfortable enough to share it with you.

Did you ever know that you're my hero...

2009-09-03T04:52:00.000-07:00

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Check out this fucking awesome story about a man who slapped a stranger's baby (a baby who probably deserved it) in a Wal-Mart. Now, before you go thinking that this man was me, I want to assure you that I would never, ever, ever set foot in a Wal-Mart. Not even for the awesome opportunity to slap the shit out of someone's baby.

From www.inquisitr.com

Author : Kim LaCapria Posted: September 2, 2009

Anyone who’s had to shop at Wal-Mart knows that a cacophony of screeching babies is part of the tapestry of America’s most gigantic retailer. A South Carolina man decided he wasn’t going to stand by quietly and allow the child to persist in ruining his otherwise pleasant Wal-Mart shopping experience. After threatening the child’s mother, he slapped the 2-year-old girl “four or five times” across the face. Sonya Mathews, the mother of the 2-year-old child, told police that both were walking in the aisles of the Rockbridge Road store when Roger Stephens, 61, approached and said “if you don’t shut that baby up, I will shut her up for you,” according to a police report. A few moments later, in another aisle, Stephens grabbed the 2-year-old and slapped her across the face four or five times, according to the report. Stephens then told Mathews, “See, I told you I would shut her up,” according to the report. According to reports, Mathews was detained by a bystander until police arrived. When questioned, the 61-year-old man explained that while he had indeed slapped a strange baby across the face, he apologized to her mother afterwards. He was still booked for felony cruelty to children.

Now look at the guy who did it.

Jerry Van Dyke from "Coach" ?

The sad part of this is that the authorities didn't recognize that the real child abuse occurred when that loser mother subjected her kid to a trip to Wal-Mart.

No, my baby punching videos ignited a firestorm of controversy on the level I anticipated.

No, I'm original

2009-09-02T06:40:00.001-07:00

Loser: Literal Video Version - watch more funny videos

Aw, what a cute baby!

2009-07-23T22:23:00.000-07:00

Who is this maniac?

NEW ADDITION:

You be the judge. Which take is the better take?

"isn't this weather just the worst?"

2009-07-02T05:18:00.000-07:00

Yeah, it is. And we all fucking know it, so stop making it even worse with your bullshit, inane fucking elevator small talk, you fat fucking load.

Deadophile

2009-06-25T16:21:00.000-07:00

No, he doesn't look exactly like this right now.

If I hold the elevator door open for you...

2009-06-23T05:31:00.000-07:00

...you'd better fucking at least acknowledge me, bitch. If you're pregnant and you don't thank me or even acknowledge me, what I should do is punch you in the gut and watch that little faggot kid of yours spill out on the floor, but instead I''ll probably just smile uncomfortably and silently wish A.I.D.S. upon you.

It's called class people. Get some. I already have more than I can handle.

Otherwise known as Janice Dickinson's vagina

2009-06-19T06:25:00.000-07:00

Smelly 'corpse flower' attracts large crowd

St. Louis -- A rare, smelly "corpse flower" at the University of Missouri in St. Louis drew hundreds of visitors and thousands of webcam spectators.
Greenhouse manager Kathy Upton said Monday that the nearly 5-foot-tall plant bloomed from Saturday afternoon until midday Sunday. She described the smell as similar to that of a dead animal on the side of the road. The smelly plant gives off a distinctive odor to attract insects that pollinate.
Upton said a different "corpse flower" bloomed at the greenhouse in 2001. The plant that bloomed this weekend hadn't done so in 14 years. She said there's no way to predict when it will bloom.

HEY-OH!!!!!!!!

Yet another G.O.P-iece of shit is exposed as a hypocrite.

2009-06-18T06:52:00.000-07:00

FUCKING HYPOCRITE!

By RANDY JAMES for TIME.com

The news blindsided official Washington: Sen. John Ensign, a well-known social conservative and family-values advocate, admitted on June 16 to an eight-month extramarital affair with a married campaign aide. The Nevada Republican's sober confession, read before a pack of reporters in Las Vegas, doubtlessly dashed the hopes of many in the party who considered Ensign an emerging national leader. The 51-year-old even fanned the flames of presidential speculation earlier this month, with a trip to the key presidential state of Iowa. Beyond embarrassing the second-term Senator, the revelation opened him to charges of hypocrisy: he had previously called on both President Clinton and former Idaho Sen. Larry Craig to resign after their own sex scandals.

Here's what Jay Leno would've had to say about it if he were still on TV:

"Maybe it's time for Mr. Ensign, to- hee-hee-hee- RESIGN!!!"

Here's what David Letterman will have to say about it:

"I'll bet he had a GRAND OLD PARTY...in her pants!!!"

Here's what David Letterman will say about it as heard through the ears of Sarah Palin:

"...And number one on the top 10 list of things I want to do before my next heart attack: I want to fuck Willow Palin in the ass!!!!!!"

Here's what I have to say about it:

"Did anyone hear that Bruce Springsteen performed with Phish the other night?"

No, a lot of people will care about this.

2009-06-17T12:16:00.000-07:00

Bruce Springsteen's appearance on stage with Phish the other night is not as "out there" as one might think.

Bruce used to be the leader of a heavy metal/jam band known as Child which then became Steel Mill which then became Dr. Zoom & The Sonic Boom which then became The Bruce Springsteen Band. Check this heavy shit out, faggots.

Steel Mill - The Wind And The Rain (Live) -Bruce Springsteen
by brucetapes

In 1995, he also guested with Solar Circus (a Jersey jam band from the 90's) and fucking blew people's minds with an unexpected solo on their original tune "Brighter Days." Of course, he also did "Mustang Sally" with them. That seems to be his jam band go-to tune. Check out the performance (and the goofy, ecstatic faces of the band) here:

Oh, so that's why I spontaneously ejaculated without provocation the other night.

2009-06-16T10:20:00.000-07:00

That's right, my two worlds came together (and I with them) on Sunday night when the God of Gods, Bruce Springsteen, joined the ultimate guitar God, Trey Anastasio (and his band Phish) on stage for three songs. Of course, I wasn't there to witness it but let me assure you it was an epic meeting that caused many a spontaneous ejaculation to occur. That being said, the music that came out of that meeting blew my mind more in theory than it did in it's execution. Nonetheless, it was better than anything the gay, over-rated Beatles ever did.

Trey introduced Bruce to a crowd not familiar with or, quite frankly, respectful of Bruce Springsteen as "my boyhood hero and still my hero today." Fuck yeah he was, Trey, and all those wanna-be hippie faggots better recognize!

Then they launched into "Mustang Sally" with Bruce singing. This song was some common ground for the two distinctly different acts so it was a natural for them. Trey and Bruce traded guitar solos and, of course, Trey clearly came out as the better player but that's not what it was about. I've heard Bruce shred solos before but his style is usually much more visceral. This time it just came off sloppier. As was his voice. It was rough. But none of that mattered. Here was Bruce Springsteen, Trey's and my idol, saying "come on Trey, play that thing!" It was fucking awesome if a little awkward at times. They then jumped into the Bruce-penned "Bobby Jean." Apparently, Phish played it in the wrong key and Bruce sang like pure shit (probably because it was in the wrong key). It was just horrible....until Trey killed it with another solo that the song sorely needs when performed by Bruce. Immediately after that, they kicked into "Glory Days." Again, this stared off a bit rocky but soon wound up just plain rocking the fuck out. After all the verses had been sung in their typical fashion, Trey took over and fucking added newfound life to this song. Then Trey and Bruce once again played some dueling guitars and elevated the whole end to a joyous all out rawk fest. Watch the whole thing right here:

Blows your fucking head out your asshole, right?

No? Go fuck yourself. You have no taste. I hope you die. Right now.

Shut the fuck up, you stupid fucking cunt.

2009-06-16T04:05:00.001-07:00

Your assHoliness, Pope Benedict XVI

2009-05-05T09:42:00.000-07:00

"It is a 'shameful tragedy' people go hungry in the world, pope says" (from his solid-gold throne.)

By Carol Glatz
Catholic News Service

VATICAN CITY (CNS) -- One of the most urgent and critical social problems afflicting the world today is the "shameful tragedy that one-fifth of humanity still goes hungry," Pope Benedict XVI told members of the Pontifical Academy of Social Sciences.

"Assuring an adequate food supply, like the protection of vital resources such as water and energy, requires all international leaders to collaborate in showing a readiness to work" toward eliminating social inequalities between countries and communities, he said in an address May 4.

"For Christians who regularly ask God to 'give us this day our daily bread,' it is a shameful tragedy" that so many people go hungry and are malnourished, he said.

Some 25,000 people die from hunger every day and one child dies every six seconds of malnutrition or starvation, according to the United Nations' World Food Program.

Um yeah it is a fucking tragic problem. One that you could easily solve. Why don't you start by selling the fucking bejeweled hats and robes? Check this out; I googled "what is the Vatican worth?" and got this answer: In an interview published in Money Week, Cardinal Edmund C. Szoka, the Vatican's "finance minister", claims that The Vatican's assets are $5 billion. he adds that " Income to the Holy See from bishops' dioceses has more than tripled from 1990 levels, to $22 million in 2000." he also says, "That [$5 billion] doesn't include the Vatican City, which has a separate financial statement.

Seems to me that sitting on all that fortune while others starve is a little, well, un-Christian, dont 'ya think? Even Jesus is disgusted by your selfishness, Vatican City. If you donated just a tenth of that money, you'd help millions of starving, ill people. And no doubt would inspire other nations to help out as well. But nooooooo, you cling to all your gold and look the other way. Fucking dicks. See you in Hell.

The HypoChrists

2009-04-27T09:45:00.000-07:00

The amazing website "Focus on the Family" has done it again. They have shown me the light!! Here are their thoughts on how greedy corporations utilize questionable marketing strategies to get your kids to buy their products. Hmmm, I smell some serious hypocritical shit coming on. I now present to you their words verbatim. My comments are in red, obviously.

Marketing Strategies.

Advertisers know the possible long-term benefits of marketing to kids. Here are several of their strategies (which we employ, embrace and fully abuse in the Catholic church)

Corporations research kids’ fantasies, artwork and behavior to understand what techniques will best affect them. (Yeah, that's how you market shit, dickweeds. Why does Focus on the Family try to make this practice seem so insidious? Like marketers are violating your children's rights. Oh wait, that's right, only their priests can do that with their touchy-feely hands and mouths. What the fuck?)

Children like to collect things. Some notable companies have capitalized on this by making a variety of products and then convincing kids that they have to obtain them all. Pokémon and Ty Beanie Babies are two corporations who have been especially good at this technique. (Ummm, maybe you should look within your own web store, Focus on the Family. )

Toy companies personify their stuffed animals and dolls, giving them names and birthdays. (December 25th anyone?) This strategy allows kids to connect with their toys as if they were real. (Not at all like the "Armor of God" bear they sell. See photo below)

Clubs for kids are a great way of gaining brand loyalty because children enjoy feeling like they belong. Examples of such clubs include Disney, Burger King, MTV (Church school) and Nickelodeon. Kids are exposed constantly to advertising at school. (But never at Church. No, we would never do that. Oh by the way, have you seen the posters in the hall encouraging you to go to our institute? Yeah, ignore those.)

“Kidfluence” or “pester power” — marketing lingo encourages kids to influence their parents’ spending. (Pssst, kids. Check out "Holy Land" in Orlando!)

“Buzz marketing” or “street marketing” refers to companies’ efforts to get popular kids in a neighborhood to wear or use their products, thus automatically making their merchandise fashionable. (But not like this WWJD bracelet we sell)

“Cross-selling” is when two or more companies advertise each other’s products to reach a broader audience. For example, Burger King made a deal with the makers of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie. Before the movie came out, Burger King promoted the characters. In return, Burger King was included in the movie. Cross-selling is a more complicated version of licensing. (VeggieTales anyone?)

Marketers of teen movies and video games pursue children by advertising violent action toys.

Although kids aren’t supposed to be allowed to watch them, PG-13 and R-rated movies are marketed directly to children under 17. (Thank goodness there's no violence or sex in the Bible.)

The "Armor of God" bear (available on the Focus on the Family web store ) includes "a parents' guide to help introduce and reinforce Christian values. Recommended for ages 3 and up." Enough said.

Oh and just in case you think I'm unfairly picking on this wonderful organization that only wants to help people become better human beings, check this article out, yo!

Not too going to Hell.

Ah Patriots' Day. When a young man's thoughts turn to freedom, liberty and kicking children in the face.

2009-04-20T07:34:00.000-07:00

Any child who is afraid of dogs should be kicked in the face with steel-tipped boots. That way, instead of cute little dogs, it will be humans (and boots) that will paralyze them with fear. Which makes sense because dogs are friendly about 95% of the time, whereas humans are friendly about 70% of the time, conservatively. So naturally, your queer little kid should be taught to fear humans, not dogs. Next time your kid cries when he sees a friendly dog approach tell him to stop being such a fucking pussy. Don't coddle him and make it think this extremely gay behavior is okay. If that fails, kick him in the face. You'll be doing all of us a favor.

Not too patrioty

The most condescending interview of all-time.

2009-04-16T11:01:00.000-07:00

The fucking furor over this woman's performance is ridiculous. If she wasn't a hideous troll, Diane Sawyer wouldn't even be interviewing her, Simon Cowell wouldn't be raising his eyebrows at her, and that hot little bitch judge certainly wouldn't be doing that "oh my God!" face. I love how that blond cunt looks at her like "how could this be? How could she be talented in any way? She's ugly!" (see clip below)

What the fuck is wrong with this world? Why is everyone so amazed that Susan Boyle has a beautiful singing voice? Because she's ugly? It's so fucking demeaning. Of course she can have talent. She's just like anyone else. Just a lot, well, more disturbing to look at. But the masses eat it up. They think they are being nice. It's this false niceness that is totally selfish and only serves to make the person acting "generous" feel better. The fact that a daily news show is even doing a story on this woman is so unbelievably pathetic. Then again so is the fact that I call Good Morning America a "daily news show." But still not as pathetic as the people who think they are being so bighearted by accepting- nay, praising- her. Did you hear that audience cheering like she just queefed out the Star Spangled Banner (what, you wouldn't cheer madly for that?) after she sang one friggin' note? Of course, I'm not naive, I'm pretty sure the producers added in that ridiculously over-enthusiastic cheering sound extra early in her performance. But the shots of the audience still tell a tale. They really pity Susan Boyle but are so afraid of their feelings that they then over-compensate to the point of embarrassment. It's like all these fucking condescending Christians who go to cancer wards in hospitals and talk about the glory of heaven with kids who are staring death in the face. You think your little made up fairy tale about a kingdom in the clouds is gonna cheer those kids up? Fuck you. And to all those people who look at Susan Boyle and say "awww, she's so talented. Isn't that great?" Fuck you too. You are all uglier on the inside than she will ever be on her fat, hideous, God-awful outside.

Not too goblin-y

You fat fucking fuck!

2009-04-16T10:07:00.000-07:00

When I, as a licensed driver of a motor vehicle, give you permission to cross the street in front of my car, you'd damn fucking well better make a God damned effort to do it in a timely fashion. Don't you dare stroll like it's your God-given right. Move your fat fucking ass now, you filthy pig! Don't dawdle (in your case, waddle) and check your e-mail on your faggoty-assed PDA. Just cross the street quickly, okay? Okay, thank you. You fat tub of useless shit.

(Note: this is not the fat fucking whore who

lumbered across the street this morning but

it is a close facsimile)

Not too faggoty.

What's up, faggots? I'm back!!!!

2009-04-15T05:38:00.001-07:00

Discuss.

Not too typical of a Sunday afternoon at my house.

Wow. Does this prove how fucking dumb NASCAR fans (and republicans) are or what?

2009-04-01T18:12:00.001-07:00

April Fooled: NASCAR Hoax Causes Web Frenzy
by Claudine Zap
April 1, 2009 03:05:41 PM

Sure, April Fools' Day comes but once a year, and some silly stories have been making the rounds. (Stairmasters in the NYC subway? Brad and Angelina married? Really? No.) But one thing is now clear: Keep the jokes away from NASCAR.

All Car and Driver magazine tried to do was drive a little levity into the auto industry bailout with a prank. The serious publication ran a joke story that announced that Obama had ordered Chevrolet and Dodge out of NASCAR if they wanted to keep their federal funds. For a brief web-fueled moment, NASCAR fans had to imagine a future of cheering on Japanese cars. Or worse, French ones. The horror.

Immediately, the Internet went crazy, with searches on "obama nascar" accelerating in Search and zooming across Twitter. Although the story was clearly marked a hoax, Car and Driver eventually pulled the fake story and apologized for going "too far."

Not to worry, NASCAR fans: Nobody's pulling out of NASCAR. Yet. As Automobile magazine's blog noted nervously, "Let's just hope that the auto task force doesn't read this and get any ideas."

Wow. You fucking retarded fucks. NASCAR could not be a bigger waste of time and money. I hope you all die in NASty CAR accidents. Tee-hee.

Why won't this fucking bitch release this song?

2009-04-01T11:43:00.000-07:00

First of all, this ad blows. I only want you to listen to the song. Fucking sweet, right? Well, this whore, Cat Power- whose real name is Chan (pronounced "Shawn." Not too annoying and pretentious) Marshall- has a beautiful, sultry voice, writes amazing original songs and does brilliant covers of songs. She also happens to be a stubborn cunt. She did this incredible version of David Bowie's "Space Oddity" and now won't release it for her fans to enjoy. What an asshole.

In vitriol

2009-03-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

I was on the elevator this morning and there was this "guy" who was talking to two co-workers (also men, sort-of) about "the baby." He spoke of how his baby boy and his daughter sleep in the same room so when the baby cries he wakes up the daughter and she gets nervous when she hears the baby cry so he and his wife try to calm her down as they're trying to also calm the baby dow.....oh Jesus, just shut the fuck up already!! The fact that I know that much about your kids now makes me sick to my stomach. And the two co-workers who sat there and empathized like middle-aged women sitting around a table playing Canasta are equally as nauseating. Each one waiting to jump into the conversation with his own "well my kid..." horror story. What a bunch of fags. Seriously. No one - and I mean no fucking one- wants to hear you complain and/or even talk about your kids. You are not allowed to complain about the fucking choice that YOU made, okay? You are the asshole who in all likelihood entered into parenthood without the proper amount of thought an enormous decision like that requires. You don't just become a parent because "all my life I've just wanted a family." It's so much bigger than that. I can't believe how many of you assholes don't even consider the unbelievable upheaval in your life having child creates. Unfortunately, many of you douchefucks think choosing to have a baby is like choosing a jar of raspberry preserves. That's right, I went with raspberry, spelled the proper way, thank you. Oh, I could've gone with apricot or even apple butter but I fucking chose raspberry. Probably put more thought into that decision than you did about having a child. It's amazing. I bet overall -if such a thing could be measured- people in this country put more thought into having abortions (raspberry jelly anyone?) than they do into actually having kids. And I don't mean that anyone having kids should consider abortion first. I mean, for those who want an abortion, it seems more thought goes into that decision than other people who want kids put into that decision. My point is not that people should carelessly choose abortion, of course. It's that having a baby is so much of a bigger decision than not having one. But no one sees it that way. They see having a child as a right of passage or as a biological imperative. It's not. Not everyone is cut out to be a parent. It's like you need a license to buy a dog. Or drive a car. Hell, you even need a license to catch a fish. But they'll let any butt-reaming asshole be a father...wait, did I just paraphrase a Keanu Reeves character? Fuck yeah, I did. Check in next week when I ponder the benefits of suicide on society and I quote Reeves from "A walk in the clouds." Anyway, back to you and your shitty decision-making ass, Mr. Whiny Fuck in the elevator. You see, I have no sympathy for you. You chose to have kids. And no matter how you arrived at that decision whether it was through years of thoughtful contemplation or just because your wife wanted to have them and you were too much of a pussy to tell her otherwise, I feel you need to live quietly with your decision. Embrace it even. Yes embrace it. These are your kids after all. And if it's true that, as you so frequently tell the world - often just before you complain about them-, "I love my kids and I would do anything for them......" then do them this one fucking favor, don't complain about them. If you love them, don't talk about how miserable they make you all the time.Easier said than done? Fuck you. It's easy to choose whether or not to complain. I make that choice every day on this gay fucking blog. I choose, of course, to complain. Loudly. And believe me, as someone who does not have kids, I know I can never understand what it's like. I get that. However, what I do understand is that 90% of the conversations I hear (and overhear) between parents are ones in which the common theme is complaining about how hard it is to have kids. Did you think it would be easy? Oh that's right, you didn't really think about it at all, did you? My bad, I forgot.

Of course, the other 10% of conversations between parents involve bragging about their kids. Do you even listen to yourselves? Do you know how stupid and unoriginal you sound? It seems these days every child born is a bona-fide genius. In fact, I can't wait until the year 2025 when all these geniuses start curing cancer, inventing time-travel machines and creating sexy robots that look like real people but just fuck you 24 hours a day. I mean how could these kids not achieve monumental greatness when they could actually tell the difference between a blue crayon and a purple one at just 26 months!! Oh its going be glorious when these kids grow up. Thank you parents for bestowing this world with your little miracles. But I digress. This bragging that parents do, while being pretty annoying, is at least loving in a way. Though usually it's more for the parents' benefit than it is for the children's. It's more "see what an amazing child I have raised" than it is "see what amazing person he/she is." So everyone please stop bragging about your fucking kid too. Okay, yes, if your kid made the dining room table levitate then I might want to hear about it. Maybe. But I really don't want to be put in the awkward position of trying to act impressed when you tell me how brilliant your child is because at age four she legibly wrote "daddy's penis hurts me" in poo on the wall of her bedroom. Actually, if your kid writes that, please do tell me. Not because I'd enjoy it but, rather, because I'm actually the President of the Wall Shit Writers of America (the WSW for those in the know) and we're looking for new members no matter the age. But spare me when your kid does actually shit in the toilet, okay? It's not a monumental occasion for anyone other than you. And you know why it is for you? Because you have no fucking semblance of a life anymore. That kid is your life now. But hey, that's your choice. Good one. Enjoy that shit. Literally.

PS> For all of my close friends who are reading this please note this post does not apply to you. You are all the greatest parents of all-time. And I think all of your kids are the most brilliant, creative, talented, intellectual kids I've ever known. In fact your kid - or kids - are better than anyone else's I know, including all our other friends. But don't tell them I said that.

Not too abortiony.

Not too born out of my wanting caring, thoughtful parents of my own.

This is one of the images that was presented to me when I searched for "corporate man" on Google Images.

2009-03-18T06:48:00.000-07:00

Yeah, that seems pretty accurate.

Not too similar to Spanish Johnny's Fuck Muschi Shemale Anal Dildo Old Granny Nude Gallery Sarah Panty Madness Finger Girl Chilenas Desnudas Mujeres post.

Fuck you all! (except for my beloved Spanish Johnny)

2009-03-12T09:39:00.000-07:00

Fuck 'Em, Suck 'Em Robots was a genius idea.

You all are a bunch of fucking homos.

Again, except for you Spanish Johnny.

This will blow your mind out your ass.

2009-03-09T13:35:00.000-07:00

This is more bizarre than yesterday's post about women who literally fall in love with inanimate objects.

This fucking piece of shit has kids????? Fucking kids??? Some woman banged him??? Holy fuck.

It's fairly obvious that these people need serious help. I am shocked, however, by how "normal" they seem. I mean, I figured that if anyone was gonna be fucking animals they would either be completely strung out on drugs and doing it on film for money, or 100% drooling Down's Syndrome retarded.

In this next clip, listen to the stunning story of how these women lost her "virginity" to dogs. No, I don't mean "dogs" like guys who are sleazy. I mean four-fucking-legged canines (I wonder if they do a canine sixty nine?). But the most amazing thing is how blasé they are about all of this. I mean, these two crazy cunts are in the kitchen cooking and talking about getting fucked by dogs with a casual tone that's more well-suited for a conversation about how their kids are doing in school. And the documentarian is a genius because he/she keeps focusing tight on the food this disgusting woman is preparing, making the point, I think, that it's quite ironic how she loves animals so much she fucks them but still eats meat. After seeing this, I don't think I can ever eat meatloaf or meatballs again.

How much freakier can they get? Do you think the animal sex will become kinda routine to them after a while, like in any normal human-to-human relationship? Do they introduce role-playing? "Ooh tonight I'll be the mail carrier!" What about toys? Can't you just see one of these hideous women masturbating in front of her dog with a "Daily Growl?" (couldn't find a picture of the classic "Daily Growl" toy so the "Daily Rover" will have to do.)

How can you possibly take it up a notch when you are already at the brink of sexual insanity? I wonder if there are people in the zoophile world - as there are in the human-to-human sexual realm- that are considered perverts. People who disgust even those who fuck dogs and horses. Like are there people who get shit and pissed on by their pet lovers? And are the more traditional zoophiles disgusted by this? What about the animal you choose? Dogs and horses seem to be okay but what if you banged an ostrich or a fish? Would you be shunned for such aberrant behavior? And just how far down the food chain do these people go? Is there a woman who gets off by coating the inside of her vahighna with sugar and waiting for a long line of ants to march on in? If only I was a documentarian. I would've asked all those questions. But I assume the answer to that last question is a resounding yes because what all of this seems to prove is that no matter what fucked up, insane sexual practice you can possibly dream up there is at least one person who is wholeheartedly into it. It's almost like if you took some of those poetry magnets and printed sexual acts and a bunch of random objects/animals on them and arranged them haphazardly, you'd find one person who would be like "Fuck yeah I love jacking off my South American six-toed tree frog onto an english muffin that was stuffed inside a dirty urinal for 6 months and eating it, you gotta fucking problem with that?"

Not too human conditiony.

"I want your fluids! I want your fluids!"

2009-03-09T13:13:00.000-07:00

Buckle the fuck up, people.

I heard about this on Howard Stern this morning. It's really hard to believe it's for real.

A better clip (which I could not embed for some reason) can be seen here. Truly fascinating and very, very sad.

No, you're not too in love with my blog.

Awesomest idea ever. Don't fucking steal it.

2009-03-05T14:10:00.000-08:00

Let it be known that today I am sharing with the world one of my most awesomest ideas ever. Are you ready? So you're familiar with the old "Rock 'em, Sock 'em Robots" toy of the late 70's right? Well that shit's outdated. I now give you..........

....Fuck 'em Suck 'em robots™.

I only have the name, actually. I'll leave the rest up to the engineers, but I envision robots that fuck and suck each other. Or you. Either way, it's gold, Jerry, gold! Second only is my soon-to- be-seen-in-every-family-gameroom board game: Monopolygamy™.

Not too fucky sucky

Actually, I wish more parents would do this.

2009-03-05T09:31:00.000-08:00

God bless the fail blog.

Not too faily.

Okay I want my money back now please.

2009-03-04T07:35:00.000-08:00

I was alerted to "Bird Breath" by the Christian Humor website, a place where all good Christians can go to have a hearty ol' laugh. Lord knows they can't go to the abortion clinics where I go for a chuckle. Anyway, according to the Bird Breath (and let's face it, that title alone is PURE hilarity) website "BirdBreath is a light hearted satire. It offers a unique perspective that is guaranteed to make you laugh." Guaranteed? Well, here's just one hilarious example of Bird Breath's "humor."

Um, what the fuck is that? I've seen funnier, more unique perspectives on the nutrition labels of soup cans. If this motherfucker is making money off of this (and isn't that what being a Christian is all about?) my head is going to explode. Here's one more example of the genius of Bird Breath.

Not too unfunny (this post, not the Bird Breath cartoons)

Is there a better fucking food than honey? I don't think so.

2009-02-27T06:29:00.000-08:00

So golden, sweet and beautiful. It lasts forever. For fucking ever. Some assholes found honey in a 2000 year-old Egyptian tomb that was still edible and, in fact, tasty. 2000 fucking years! Suck on that, Maple Syrup, you fucking pussy. Name one other food source that will still be good to eat after two thousand fucking years. You can't you dipshit. There is only one. Fucking honey. God I love it. Fuck. I just want to dip my fucking cock in it it's so fucking good.

On a serious (otherwise known as gay) note, be cool and help save the honey bees, people. Buy honey. Support any charity you can to help preserve these amazing creatures, without whom we would all die.

http://www.nrdconline.org/campaign/nrdcaction_072408

http://www.helpthehoneybees.com/

http://www.gopetition.com/petitions/save-the-bees-and-the-human-race.html

Not too trying to deflect from yesterday's ugly, mean post.

Crippled dick.

2009-02-26T08:01:00.000-08:00

On the elevator today as the doors were about to close, this grey flanneled asshole with a gimpy, stroked-out walk and curled-up french-fry arm peered in. Naturally, some nice folks put their arms through the doors to keep them from closing this guy out. They even said "sorry" as if it were their fault that the doors were closing on him. Then this fucking broken bodied asshole walked (and I use that term loosely) in like the fucking King of Siam and took a spot right next to one of good citizens who helped him. Did he say thanks? Nope. Did he at least crack a smile? Fuck no. Did he ask in a commanding fuckwad tone to have his floor number pressed? Yep. Fucking crippled dick. (No, I don't have a crippled dick.)

Not too cripply.

Apparently I'm going to die any minute now.

2009-02-23T08:22:00.000-08:00

Welcome to genetics, baby. You're gonna diiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee!!!!

Last Friday I saw my sister-in-law for the first time in quite a while. Immediately she looked at me quizzically and asked about the creases on my head vaginas (oh, I should tell you that in my family we call ears "head vaginas") and if they had been there long. I was aware of the creases on my head vaginas that she was talking about. I replied "No, but I've had them for a while. Maybe ten years. Why?" I really wish I hadn't asked why because she replied with genuine concern that she had seen a show on MSNBC where they discussed how a distinct crease in the earlobe is an indicator that you will definitely die of a heart attack at some point. Probably soon. Yay!!!!!! What awesome news. Now, she was telling me this because she was concerned and thought I should know not because she was trying to scare me. But what she didn't know is that I'm an obsessive fucking freak and that for the next 72 hours, my soon to be imploding heart was all I could think about. I thought about my father who died of a heart attack at age 58. And his brother who died of a heart attack at 54. Of course turning to the internet for further information really helped me out. Thank goodness for the internet and all it's life-saving and comforting information. Next time you have any health issue like, say, shoulder pain, just Google it. You're likely to find - as my good friend pointed out today- that you either definitely have pancreatic cancer or maybe you pulled a muscle. So I read a bunch of articles on the internet about my ear creases. This was a fun one. And so was this one. Naturally, not all of the sites I visited spoke of imminent death. Many spoke of the fact that if you simply sleep on your side you could develop an ear crease. Or that an ear crease was an indicator of aging and nothing more. Did I pay attention to those? Fuck no. I was convinced I was going to die almost immediately. Going to sleep has been terrifying for the past few days because in the quiet of night (even with my requisite white noise fan on) I can hear my heart beating and I am convinced each one will be the last. Now I'm sure many of you are saying "MSG don't you want to die? You're such a miserable asshole in this life. Maybe you'd be happier dead." Well, yeah I'm a miserable asshole but I'm not too interested in dying. You see, I like life. I like being able to bore the two people who actually read this blog with my mindless drivel. So, no, I don't want to die. I just want everyone else to.

Not too my last post ever.

God I hope it's true.

2009-02-20T06:33:00.000-08:00

Yes, this is a "friend of a friend" story but I really believe it's true. Or maybe I just really want it to be. I was told this story about ten years ago so the events took place probably 20 years ago. Anyway, here it is (told through the voice of my friend):

"So my buddy has a very loose connection to the Kennedy clan, like his mom is a 4th or 5th cousin, and one summer about 10 years ago he was visiting the "compound" in Hyannis, MA. Maria Shriver and Arnold Schwarzenegger were there that weekend as well. So my buddy was down in the gym working out one morning when Arnold came in to do the same. They exchanged pleasantries but it was really like there was no connection between them at all. Like if Arnold had met a stranger on the street he would treat them the same way. But the kid was just so psyched to be working out in the same room as Arnold. So it's just the two of them down there and my buddy isn't going to quit before Arnold does so he just fuckin' pushes himself further and further. In fact, he thinks he's impressing Arnold a bit. No words are spoken but it's just a feeling he has. So my buddy is getting more and more psyched, the adrenaline is pumping, when Arnold finishes his workout. My buddy is actually benching as Arnold is leaving but stops just so he can say goodbye to him. Arnold says goodbye and then walks out the door...partially, then he pokes his head back in and says "Oh by the way, that weight you're lifting? It's pure faggotry" and shuts the door. My buddy was so deflated after that but all he could do was laugh."

That's right "Pure faggotry." Wow. What a fucking sentence. I thought I liked Arnold before. Now I fucking love him.

Not too awesome.

There's something uncomfortably large in my pants.

2009-02-11T05:10:00.001-08:00

It's called a fucking tag. You know, the worthless little, well tag, that is for some unGodly reason stitched into the seam of your clothes more securely than any other stitching on the whole shirt or pants? The dumb fucking thing that tells you who made this particular garment and what size it is. And then on the back it usually tells you how to care for the item. Yeah whoever came up with this idea (and those who perpetuate its use) should have their children killed in front of them. These tags are a menace. Like annoying little polyester hemorrhoids they itch like fuck and cause major discomfort. Why do we need them? Honestly, what is their purpose? I've already bought the fucking shirt, I don't care who made it anymore. And exactly how retarded do you need to be to not grasp the proper way to launder a t-shirt? These days the tags are bigger than ever for some fucking unfathomable reason. In one shirt recently purchased at The Gap (not too cool of me) the fucking tag took up a space larger than a pack of cigarettes on the back of my neck. And it was fucking sewn into the shirt with a thread that was easily a first cousin to barbed wire. I think I may be a touch autistic, like Asperger's syndrome (and no, that's not "assburgers" for all you dicks out there dying to pounce on me with a fat joke) because my skin is so ultra-sensitive that I barely can stand the touch of another human being (ladies, line-up for the catch of the century!) but even a normal person couldn't stand this Gap shirt tag, I'm sure of it. The fucking thing is so absurdly intrusive that it would be more comfortable if The Gap lined the shirt with the blood and feces of the 13 year-old slave-labor kids they "employ." Which makes me think, do these kids purposely make the tags extra uncomfortable because they're so angry? Do they intentionally stitch the tag seven times over with some sort of space polymer unbreakable thread while they sew the rest of the garment with something weaker than dental floss? Are they punishing me by sewing the tag in so intricately that when I use a seam-ripper (yes, I use a fucking seam-ripper like some doddering old grandmother) to remove them a de-stitching chain reaction begins that eventually unravels half of the cloth, leaving a huge hole in the shirt? Somebody's gotta take the blame here. I simply can't take it anymore. The tags need to stop. Yes, I am aware that there are companies now who claim to make "tagless" items but they are full of fucking shit because there still is a cunty little tag tucked into the side of these shirts. It's small but it has a little set of numbers printed on it. It's probably some kind of code to tell the underage army of seamstresses to keep working or their parents will be slaughtered. Huh? That doesn't make sense on any level. Whatever, fuck you, stop judging me. Before I go, I also have to mention that the cheap motherfuckers who manufacture clothing these days have really gone too far now. The tags were bad enough but another appalling trend appears to be unfolding. And that is the sewing of some sort of plastic material into the seams of t-shirts. I have no idea why they are doing this. Maybe it's an effort to strengthen the pathetically weak thread they use. I don't know. What I do know is I'm never fucking buying another t-shirt with an enormous tag or fucking cheap plastic lining sewn into the seams. That's right, I'm boycotting t-shirts! Who's with me? Let's go!!!!......Hello? Anyone there? (cue the crickets sfx)

Fuck you all. Traitors.

Not too stitchy.

An A+ in assholery.

2009-02-03T09:01:00.000-08:00

Over-protective, pussy parents fight the power in an attempt to teach their children that a little extra effort is really not necessary in life.

Virginia Parents Fight for Easier Grading Standards

To the grade-grubbers go the spoils. And the grade-grubbers in this case are rabble-rousing parents in Virginia's Fairfax County. Residents of the high-powered Washington suburb have been battling the district's tough grading practices; chief among their complaints is that scoring a 93 gets recorded as a lowly B+. After forming an official protest group last year called Fairgrade and goading the school board into voting on whether to ease the standards, parents marshaled 10,000 signatures online and nearly 500 in-person supporters to help plead their case on Jan. 22. After two hours of debate, the resolution passed, a move critics consider a defeat in the war on grade inflation. (Read about students getting paid for good grades.)
At most schools in the U.S., a 90 earns you an A, but in Fairfax County, getting the goods demands a full 94. Merely passing is tougher, too, requiring a 64 rather than a 60. Nor do students get much help clearing those high bars if they take tougher courses. Compared to the kind of GPA "weighting" many districts give for Advanced Placement or International Baccalaureate courses, Fairfax County's half-point boost is peanuts. The upshot, protestors say, is that Fairfax kids are at a disadvantage on multiple fronts: snagging good-driver insurance discounts (which often factor in GPA), earning NCAA eligibility, winning merit scholarships, and - oh, yeah - getting into college. (See pictures of the college dorm's evolution.)
Sure, admissions officers say they take into account the fact that some schools are more rigorous than others. But as more universities downplay the SAT or drop it from consideration altogether, colleges are making it known that GPAs are more important than ever before. And this shift is fueling a growing firestorm over grades: 75 districts in 12 states have relaxed their grading standards since 2005. Meanwhile, attendees at the annual meeting of the Association of American Colleges and Universities this month in Seattle argued for ditching grades in college and instead using the long-form "narrative evaluations" already required by some universities. (Read more about an antidote to college rankings.)
Fairfax was never considering anything that drastic, but in response to parents' complaints, in April the superintendent launched a study on how the district's grading system affects students. (Fairgrade, initially a cosponsor of the study, jumped ship in December when its members disagreed with how the school board characterized the results.) Based on the findings released in early January - which showed that changing the scale would slightly boost GPAs but was inconclusive about whether this would help students get into better colleges - last Thursday the school board agreed to start using a higher premium for tough courses and to adopt a new variant of a 10-point grading scale.
Fairgrade is "cautiously optimistic," says the group's president Megan McLaughlin, a former Georgetown admissions officer whose three sons are 8, 11, and 13. Her husband is a Fairfax County high school grad, and McLaughlin says her in-laws recall fighting the current grading system in the late '70s before it was implemented in 1981. McLaughlin and others are cautious because the details of the new grading system still need to be ironed out.
The vote is also good news for local business leaders who have joined the Fairgrade effort, warning that families worried about their kids getting into good colleges may move out of the county if the school district doesn't change its grading system. Talk of a possible exodus killing off business and destroying property values sounds a tad melodramatic, but given the tanking market and ongoing credit crunch, it's no wonder people are trying to do everything thing they can to shore up the local economy. (See pictures of a diverse group of American teens.)
Opponents of Fairgrade counter that any move perceived as encouraging grade inflation could tarnish the school district's sterling reputation. Stuart Gibson, a Justice Department litigator serving his 14th year on the school board, voted for changing the grading system but will continue to oppose lowering the passing grade to 60. And he wants to maintain rigorous standards despite the three dozen e-mails he gets every day from Fairgrade supporters. He notes that in a neighboring district, 36% of students who graduated in June had a weighted GPA of 4.0 or higher. "I moved here from Minnesota, but I'd never been to Lake Wobegon," Gibson says, referring to the fictional town where all the children are above average. "Do we really want to have a reputation as an easy-A jurisdiction?" He adds, "It doesn't improve their achievement. It just improves their achievement on paper."
Gibson's foes argue that when you're talking about some of the best schools in the country, regular statistical rules don't apply. In 2007, for instance, Fairfax County's Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology produced 158 semifinalists in the prestigious National Merit scholarship competition - more than any other U.S. high school - and boasted the highest average SAT score in the country. Yet out of 432 seniors that year, according to McLaughlin, only 16 graduated with straight A's. "They happen to attend a school that has a large percentage of bright, high-performing students," she says. "You should hope that the student GPAs reflect the SAT averages, which are a national measure of the caliber and the abilities of the students." McLaughlin adds that high standards should come from tough teachers and a rigorous curriculum, not from artificially deflating grades.
Whether grade inflation exists and how it affects students has been debated at least since 1894, when a committee at Harvard declared that A's and B's were awarded "too readily." Princeton in 2004 became the only Ivy League school to adopt a grade deflation policy, including quotas for A's. To skeptics like Gibson, grades should be guides to help students see where they can improve, not rubber stamps to confirm a smart kid's hunch that he or she is smart - or gold stars on a resume. "Grades don't only exist to be reported to college admissions officers," he says. Gibson also rejects the Fairgrade argument that adjusting the standards would improve the dropout rate among those at risk of failing. "I don't think it helps any student to say, 'Well, we're going to lower the standard to pass so you can stay in school,'" he says. "When you go out in the world, there are certain skills and knowledge that you need to succeed."
Despite the apparent victory for Fairgrade, in the end both sides still have to manage expectations. Gibson recalls an e-mail he got from one parent: "It said, 'My daughter's a solid 'C' student, and if you don't change the grading scale, she's never going to get into the University of Virginia,'" he says, referring to the state's highly selective, flagship public university. "I'm thinking, no, we're going to have to change the grading scale a lot." After all, the goal is achieving fairness, not fantasy.

What pathetic bunch of dicks. Your precious little faggot kids need to learn to play by the rules, plain and simple. Grow the fuck up, losers.

No, "over-protective pussy" isn't a product I own.

Fuck you, Massachusetts Turnpike

2009-01-30T07:02:00.001-08:00

I hope you get fucking AIDS and cancer and fucking SARS and monkeyfuckingpox and vaginosis and nut cancer and the clap and emphysema and genital warts and sickle cell anemia and herpes and crabs and carpal tunnel syndrome (huh?).

Thanks for unnecessarily making my already shitty one-hour commute a fucking ball-bending two plus hours long again today. I hate you, you shittily designed piece of shit.

No, when you start out with AIDS it's not too hard to top it.

Driver's side cuntbag

2009-01-29T11:05:00.000-08:00

On my way in to work this morning, my drive was extended from the normal one hour to a full two hours. Needless to say, by the end my nerves were frayed as fuck. So when a woman in her uppity cuntity BMW tried to get into my lane without signaling, I went a little berserk, yelling right at her "NO FUCKING WAY, YOU FUCKING CUNT!!!" I screamed so loud I got an instant headache like ones you get when you drink a slurpee too fast. The woman looked terrified. She applied her brakes and then got into the lane directly behind me. She then made every turn I made, following me all the way into my parking garage. I couldn't keep my eyes off of my rearview mirror, trying to gauge if she was angry, crazy, a co-worker or all three. As we entered the garage my anger soon led to fear. Fear that not only might I have to look this woman in the eye when we exited our cars but also that she might ride up in the elevator with me. Fortunately, she parked on a different floor. This kind of thing has happened to me several times before though. Two weeks ago, anxious to get home, I tailgated some pussy who was doing the speed limit on the road leading to the street my house is on. I was flashing my lights and honking at him, being a total asshole. Not until we got about 100 yards from my street did I realize this could be a neighbor of mine. Sure enough, he turned into our street. I just kept on going right past the street as if I didn't live anywhere near there. Humiliated, I drove another 1/4 mile before I turned around and eventually skulked into my driveway much later than I would've been had I just been a pussy and drove the speed limit. So what have I learned? Nothing. I will continue to blow my fucking fuse every time someone fucks with me on the road. Maybe someday I'll do it to the wrong person and get shot or stabbed or beaten about the beautiful face and neck. Then I'll learn.

Not too drivey.

Another review of the funniest website of all-time.

2009-01-28T06:06:00.000-08:00

Today's topic: How some fairy tales from two thousand years ago can have an impact on some fairy tails today. (Not too witty and beyond your comprehension of all that is witty.)

The following was taken from the homophobic Christian values website focusonthefamily.com, The article is reprinted here verbatim. My comments are in red (obviously)

Cause for Concern (Same-Sex Counseling)

Many who experience homosexual temptations and impulses are responding to the Gospel message that unwanted same-sex attractions can be overcome (Amazing choice of words there. The brilliant Mr. Show once had a skit that featured a gay rehab called 'overcome'. It was funny then and it's funny now. Why wouldn't the focus on the family writer just use another word? Umm, conquered or defeated maybe?)

by Focus on the Family Issue Analysts (tee-hee ANALysts)

Bowing (or bending over) to the forces of political correctness, the American Psychiatric Association (APA) in 1998 issued a position statement "rebuking" practices that are broadly referred to as "reparative therapy" for homosexuality. (Yes, that could be their only reason for rebuking those policies. It had to be political correctness and not in any way tied to the notion that it might be a bit inhumane to humiliate and physically force someone to fight what is in their nature.) In 2000, the APA affirmed this opposition to psychiatric treatment of reparative or conversion therapy. Holding the view that homosexuality is a normal variant of human sexuality, their concern was with groups who were motivated by the view that homosexuality is morally wrong and harmful to society. While the 1998 statement said that there are risks to such therapies, no evidence was offered to support this claim (Umm, maybe they assumed common sense might prevail, you fucking jackasses. Do you honestly need scientific studies to figure this out? You don't require any proof whatsoever of God or Jesus' existence yet this subject must have scientific validation? You don't even believe the overwhelming scientific evidence for the theory of evolution, why would anyone bother trying to convince you of anything with evidence ever again?)

What is evident, however, is that the American Psychiatric Association was simply agreeing with pro-homosexual activists (Of course they agree, the faggots can be very persuasive with their anal/oral torture techniques you know) and with the American Psychological Association, which had passed a similar, but broader, resolution in 1997. Here, the American Psychological Association claimed that treatment for unwanted homosexual behavior is harmful, unethical and unsuccessful. Of note, this resolution also supports the client's right to self-determination and autonomy – calling for psychologists to "respect the rights of others to hold values, attitudes and opinions that differ from their own." Clearly, this would include religious beliefs upholding the biblical view that God's created intent for sexual expression is limited to a monogamous, covenantal marriage relationship between one man and one woman. (Oooh, this is their big "Ah-ha!" moment, but it is meaningless because the APA is not denying this point. Sure you Christian assholes can have your opinion of God's intent for sexual expression- isn't it for a man and woman to shit on each other in the presence of no less than two farm animals?- but you don't have the right to force that belief on anyone else. Why can't you understand that?)

Significantly, both groups ignored the fact that many individuals who experience same-sex attractions are dissatisfied with the situation and seek professional help in aligning their thoughts and behaviors with their convictions and faith. (Yeah, they seek help because they are confused and upset by assholes like you ridiculing, beating and judging them.) In short, many who experience homosexual temptations and impulses are responding to the Gospel message that unwanted same-sex attractions can be overcome (And often with the help of a friendly pastor who quietly rapes them and overcomes all over their faces.). And as they seek pastoral and professional psychological counseling, they find that change and transformation are, indeed, possible. (Glory be to God who apparently hates you for making you the way he did.)

Copyright © 2008 Focus on the Family.

Not too implying I'm gay at this point.

PS> ANYONE can make a comment on my blog now. You no longer need to be registered or will endure any of that word verification bullshit.

"I saw Dimitri" = Genius.

2009-01-27T10:44:00.001-08:00

Hey, idiots, stop having fucking children already!

2009-01-27T07:09:00.000-08:00

You may think your kids are going to grow up and have perfect little lives but they won't. Stop fantasizing and start thinking about the fucking abysmal realities they face. Like this.

Global warming 'irreversible' for next 1000 years: study

WASHINGTON (AFP) – Climate change is "largely irreversible" for the next 1,000 years even if carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions could be abruptly halted, according to a new study led by the US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA).
The study's authors said there was "no going back" after the report showed that changes in surface temperature, rainfall and sea level are "largely irreversible for more than 1,000 years after CO2 emissions are completely stopped."
NOAA senior scientist Susan Solomon said the study, published in this week's Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences journal, showed that current human choices on carbon dioxide emissions are set to "irreversibly change the planet."
Researchers examined the consequences of CO2 building up beyond present-day concentrations of 385 parts per million, and then completely stopping emissions after the peak. Before the industrial age CO2 in Earth's atmosphere amounted to only 280 parts per million.
The study found that CO2 levels are irreversibly impacting climate change, which will contribute to global sea level rise and rainfall changes in certain regions.
The authors emphasized that increases in CO2 that occur from 2000 to 2100 are set to "lock in" a sea level rise over the next 1,000 years.
Rising sea levels would cause "irreversible commitments to future changes in the geography of the Earth, since many coastal and island features would ultimately become submerged," the study said.
Decreases in rainfall that last for centuries can be expected to have a range of impacts, said the authors. Regional impacts include -- but are not limited to -- decreased human water supplies, increased fire frequency, ecosystem change and expanded deserts.

Not too fucking sick of breeders.

Why the fuck did I buy so many DVDs?

2009-01-25T05:38:00.001-08:00

It's something Spanish Johnny and I discuss all the time.

Here are just some of the hundreds of titles in my collection which I either haven't even opened yet or haven't watched in over two years despite some of them being excellent films/shows and worthy of viewing:

Jurassic Park (saw part of it on tv recently. This movie fucking sucks)

Slap shot (unopened for some reason, awesome movie)

The Lord of the Rings trilogy (two unopened)

Tigerland (gay much??)

Laving Las Vegas

Short Cuts

Swimming with Sharks

Office Space (it's on cable every 5 fucking minutes)

Seinfeld seasons 1-6 (ditto), though I am considering buying season 9 for my favorite episode ever- The Merv Griffin set which I will watch over and over again.

Shakespeare in Love (huh??)

Amadeus

The Patriot (yes, Mel Gibson's American Revolution-themed Braveheart)

Being John Malkovich

DVD's I watch very often that I bought and do not regret:

Mr. Show (all 4 seasons_)

Jackass (all of them)

Arrested Development (all seasons)

Strangers with Candy (all seasons)

Bruce Springsteen - Live in New York City

Bruce Springsteen - Live in Largo, MD 1978 (bootleg)

Phish - It

Phish- Bittersweet Motel

You can count on me

The Straight Story

Close Encounters of the third kind

Boogie Nights

And that one of your mother blowing me

Not too mind-numbingly boring and mundane and yet fascinating and boner inducing at the same time.

I don't want to get too political here but holy fuck is this guy cool or what?

2009-01-21T11:39:00.000-08:00

and not just because he smokes, but more because of awesome shit like this:

Obama freezes salaries of some White House aides

By JENNIFER LOVEN, AP White House Correspondent
24 mins ago

WASHINGTON – President Barack Obama's first public act in office Wednesday was to institute new limits on lobbyists in his White House and to freeze the salaries of high-paid aides, in a nod to the country's economic turmoil.

Announcing the moves while attending a ceremony in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building to swear in his staff, Obama said the steps "represent a clean break from business as usual."

The pay freeze, first reported by The Associated Press, would hold salaries at their current levels for the roughly 100 White House employees who make over $100,000 a year. "Families are tightening their belts, and so should Washington," said the new president, taking office amid startlingly bad economic times that many fear will grow worse.

Those affected by the freeze include the high-profile jobs of White House chief of staff, national security adviser and press secretary. Other aides who work in relative anonymity also would fit into that cap if Obama follows a structure similar to the one George W. Bush set up.

Obama's new lobbying rules will not only ban aides from trying to influence the administration when they leave his staff. Those already hired will be banned from working on matters they have previously lobbied on, or to approach agencies that they once targeted.

The rules also ban lobbyists from giving gifts of any size to any member of his administration. It wasn't immediately clear whether the ban would include the traditional "previous relationships" clause, allowing gifts from friends or associates with which an employee comes in with strong ties.

The new rules also require that anyone who leaves his administration is not allowed to try to influence former friends and colleagues for at least two years. Obama is requiring all staff to attend to an ethics briefing like one he said he attended last week.

Obama called the rules tighter "than under any other administration in history." They followed pledges during his campaign to be strict about the influence of lobbyist in his White House.

"The new rules on lobbying alone, no matter how tough, are not enough to fix a broken system in Washington," he said. "That's why I'm also setting rules that govern not just lobbyists but all those who have been selected to serve in my administration."

In an attempt to deliver on pledges of a transparent government, Obama said he would change the way the federal government interprets the Freedom of Information Act. He said he was directing agencies that vet requests for information to err on the side of making information public — not to look for reasons to legally withhold it — an alteration to the traditional standard of evaluation.

Just because a government agency has the legal power to keep information private does not mean that it should, Obama said. Reporters and public-interest groups often make use of the law to explore how and why government decisions were made; they are often stymied as agencies claim legal exemptions to the law. "For a long time now, there's been too much secrecy in this city," Obama said. He said the orders he was issuing Wednesday will not "make government as honest and transparent as it needs to be" nor go as far as he would like. "But these historic measures do mark the beginning of a new era of openness in our country," Obama said. "And I will, I hope, do something to make government trustworthy in the eyes of the American people, in the days and weeks, months and years to come."

Not too first day-ey

Good riddance, you worthless pieces of shit.

2009-01-20T05:12:00.000-08:00

Thanks for fucking everything up, you fucking incompetent fucking douchebags.

To the lovely young woman on the Mass Pike this morning

2009-01-14T05:32:00.000-08:00

....who nearly got into three accidents because she was looking down in her lap for 10 straight miles as she text messaged; fuck you, you selfish fucking whore. I cannot pray hard enough for your painful and untimely death.

(PS> I assume my one and only avid reader didn't fall for my brilliant use of the medium as a punch line to my last post and really think I was changing the address of my site. Spanish Johnny, will you please write a comment to tell me how funny I am? I need the affirmation in the worst way.)

Not too eh.

Mega Superior Gold is moving to a new address.

2009-01-13T10:09:00.000-08:00

I wanted to clean up my look a bit and tone down some of the more flashy and confusing elements in the design of my blog so I've moved on. Follow me to the clean and spiffy new site here.

Not too Indianny

One of the best movies I have ever seen.

2009-01-10T18:10:00.001-08:00

Slumdog Millionaire. Go see it now.

It joins many other films which were lucky enough to have me bestow upon them the honor of the "one of the best movies I have ever seen" title, including:

Platoon

Jaws

Dazed and Confused

American Beauty

The Straight Story

You can count on me

Finding Nemo

Goodfellas

Godfather 1 & 2

Wall-E

The Exorcist

Schindler's List

Boogie Nights

The Silence of the Lambs

and of course,

Sisterhood of the traveling pants

Not too arrogant to assume my opinion will affect anybody.

Fatties can't complain about going to the gym.

2009-01-07T09:46:00.001-08:00

I got on the elevator today and just as the door was closing a huge woman decided to jam her way in with such urgency it was as if taking the stairs would've been the only option left after those doors closed. God she was huge. And so out of breath. But of course this did not stop her from opening her huge mouth to speak with a co-worker. Here's how the conversation went.

FATTY McFATFAT: Oh my God, I'm so tired.

CO-WORKER: Hi Sheila.

Then Fatty bumps someone "accidentally" with her bag.

FATTY McFATFAT: I'm sorry. It's this damn gym bag. It's so big.

CO-WORKER- (trying so hard not to seem surprised that Fatso went to the gym) How was the gym?

FATTY McFATFAT: Not bad. It's just that when I leave, even after I shower, I'm still dripping wet with sweat.

At this point, the entire elevator did a collective "ewwww" in their minds. I know it. Okay, well, I did. Anyway, the point is this great, big fat person (a nod to Silence of the Lambs there) just couldn't wait to talk about going to the gym. And this was January 5th. I guarantee she'd only been going for 5 days at the most, after she made her tearful New Year's resolution to lose weight yet again. And its more likely that she'd only gone once or twice since the beginning of the new year. But oh she had to let the whole elevator know about her ordeals in the gym. You know, make it sound like it was a regular activity for her. But doesn't she know that because of her comically sized body that no one believes her? Just go to the gym and shut the fuck up, lady. You're gross and the less we know about you the better. If you do insist on letting everyone in an elevator know about your life at least be honest about it. Something like, "I just went to the gym where I walked on a treadmill at the slowest possible pace for thirteen minutes while holding on to the rails. Now I'm gonna go upstairs and eat six 300 calorie nutrition bars because I've fooled myself into thinking they are the kind of fuel my mbody needs after a workout but the truth is I just like the chocolate cookie crunch. Then I'm gonna go home and curl up on the couch , watch Sex and the City and swallow an entire turkey."

Now listen, I know it seems as though I'm coming off very cruel here but believe me I'm not, because I'm a fat fuck too and fat on fat crime isn't a crime at all.

This was NOT the woman in the elevator, by the way, but this is the kind of honesty I expect from her. This fat chick rules. Great fucking shirt. Totally respect her. I guarantee she doesn't complain about going to the gym.

Not too willing to fuck for cake.

Honestly, do women really even want a huge cock?

2009-01-06T05:39:00.000-08:00

Actually, this post has nothing to do with women and huge cocks. I just wanted something to grab your attention. Happy new year, faggots!

Not too grabby.

Guess who's the biggest faggot in the world?

2008-12-29T14:39:00.000-08:00

As I left work last night I crossed paths with a couple of construction workers. They were carrying Makita tool boxes. I was carrying a bag of cupcakes from a bakery called Lulu's. They stopped and let me cross in front of them. "Ladies first," I imagined their internal monologues to be saying. Followed by "there goes the biggest faggot in the world."

And they were right. I hate being such a pussy.

Not too cupcakey.

I'll rip out your asshole and fist it right in front of you, dickweed.

2008-12-23T14:43:00.001-08:00

If I open a door for you, you'd better fucking thank me you fucking selfish fucking dick or cunt.

No, I'm not a frequent and respected contributor to the Emily Post Institute.

Hey Spanish Johnny, I see your disturbing 18 kids story and raise you one.

2008-12-23T06:28:00.000-08:00

This is one of the most fucked up things I have ever seen. And I have seen some fucked up shit (my mom's boyfriend's Asian cock to name just one) in my life.

(Is that Sigourney Weaver??)

Those kids, sadly, are not unlike most kids in America today. The difference is, those kids are literally sucking on mommy's swollen, nasty tit whereas the majority of American kids today are only doing it metaphorically. I see moms (and dads) whip out the metaphorical tit all the time to calm their nasty little fuckwads down. A tantrum needs to be dealt with swiftly and deftly and violently. Don't placate the little bastards because it makes your life easier, people. Do what the elders did, "You're eating the broccoli or you're going to bed hungry." Not "you don't like broccoli? Okay, I'm sorry I gave that to you, honey. Try some chicken fingers instead, okay?" All parents are losers. End of story. Merry Christmas.

Not too engorged with milk and latent Oedipal issues.

Nothing would please me more than to see you beheaded.

2008-12-22T08:40:00.000-08:00

Honestly, how fucking lazy are you? You can't brush the snow off of your car before you head out on the road? What's the matter with you, you rude, inconsiderate nipplabianus? Do you even wipe your ass? I doubt it. I mean why must I endure what amounts to another snowstorm caused by all the shit comming off of your roof because you couldn't muster up the strength to sweep a broom over your car? Holy fuck you are lazy. I really hope your car slides off the road and you and your whole family are beheaded, you fucking cuntitaint.

No, I spent a lot on that photo.

STOP THE PRESSES: Ashlee Simpson enjoys anal sex.

2008-12-16T08:42:00.000-08:00

This and other illuminating tidbits came from a fascinating interview with her husband, Pete Wentz, on the Howard Stern show this morning. Pete Wentz, a man I had previously said deserved to have been aborted, is now someone I actually respect. And not just because he spoke of his little princess wife liking anal. No, it's more than that. He came off as a pretty cool guy. That's the absolute genius of Howard Stern. He is hands-down the greatest interviewer in the world. He can "humanize" any celebrity by simply getting them to talk about themselves in a real, unguarded way. Much to the horror of their publicists I'm sure. In other words, he doesn't just ask "so, how are Ashlee and the new baby" like a fucking Entertainment Tonight "reporter." No, instead he phrases it like (and I'm paraphrasing here), "so now you've got the kid, you're gonna have to make her a sexual object again instead of a mom. I mean, once you've seen that vagina with all the blood and the shit..." And then leaves it in the interviewee's hands to complete the thought. Pete's answer to this, by the way, was that Ashlee still is a sexual being. She blows him and gives him hand-jobs but the vagina is still off limits. It's only been two weeks, after all. Pete also said that somewhere in his mind, he's thought about banging both Jessica and Ashlee at the same time but he can't really go there in his head because Jessica is a lot like a sister to him. What a homo. Although, I can't really call him that. This guy has fucked many a hot Hollywood starlet, including Lindsay Lohan. But back to Ahslee loving anal (no, Spanish Johnny doesn't own that movie). When a listener called in to ask Pete if he and Ashlee had done it in "the bad place (no, I don't own that movie), he said "she likes me to be happy." That's not a no, it is an unspoken yes. Good for him. Good for her. Great for fucking Howard Stern; the greatest entertainer of all-time. After Bruce Springsteen.

No, my doctor didn't give me anal last February.

Don't read this unless you want to feel the same way my mother feels about me all the time; disappointed.

2008-12-12T10:37:00.000-08:00

Jury duty wasn't that bad. In fact, I think it's something everyone should do at least once in their life.

That being said, I did make some observations. I wrote these on my laptop in the deliberation room so they kinda read like notes (except for the opening paragraph, that I wrote mostly the day after the trial had ended). I was gonna fill them out later but after the trial was over I didn't have the heart. So what you're getting here is the raw material. Oooooh, edgy. Yeah, I'm the Lou Reed of blogging. Anyway, here they are:

Uggh. Fucking jury duty. I got my notice to serve back in March of this year. Though it may have been April. Either way, the formal invitation had asked me to come in to the Worcester Superior Court the first week of August for my service. Fuck that. I immediately put in for a stay of execution, if you will. Sure enough, come September, I received a new notification informing me that the first day of December I absolutely HAD to be in the jury pool (sounds so fun, doesn’t it? A jury pool. Yay, let’s all get in, splash around and pretend we’re not peeing next to each other. Look for this and other witticisms in my new book “Nobes does Jay Leno style humor”). Fascinating story so far, huh? Well I merely wanted to give those who have never had the pleasure of sitting in a jury box listening to witness testimony a little taste of what it is like. Actually, it’s not the courtroom that is so boring. It’s the jury deliberation room. Sure, watching a witness talk for 2 hours about the difference between a TIA (Transient Ischemic Attack) and a Stroke can be, well, mind-numbing (no, stroke humor isn’t too obscure and classy. Particularly when you’ve been staring at a stroke victim and his unfortunate family for 10 days.) And that takes me to my point. I thought I would find wealth of material in my time as a juror. But I didn’t. In fact, I think I lost my entire sense of humor. The case was horribly sad. And the jurors were all very decent people. Did I have issues with them? Certainly. Did they annoy the shit out of me? Definitely. But in the end, I came to respect them all (even the fucking retarded ones) and it left me with the exact opposite feeling of what I had written down on my first day of duty, which was “humanity sucks.”

Notes from the jury pool: the very first day of jury duty. Like 20 minutes into it. It is I who judge thee.

THE JURY:

Fat silent guy
Tall freak nice guy
Nice, rich cunt w/ Burberry bag
Bearded weirdo intellectual douche
Fat geek
Smokey the smokestack
Old not-so-innocent-but-trying-to-be woman (nosey but sweet)
Old not-so-funny-but-desperately-trying-to-be man
Middle aged mellow blue-collar guy
Unhealthy smelly old man
Redneck and proud of it, dumb but nice guy
Complaining mom bitch who has to let you know she had kids and how hard it is every 5 seconds.
Judgmental asshole that thinks he’s better than everyone. (that would be me)

And these were random observations I made during the 10-day stint:

Cunt playing her music too loud on ipod. Sitting here in deliberation room waiting for rest of jurors. Me and one other guy in here. Other than her retarded music (country, of course) the room is silent. I hope she has a stroke from the music.

Blowing nose in otherwise quiet room. Who the fuck does this? Now she’s blowing her nose in here. Again, a perfectly quiet room and she blows her nose, allowing us the hear every drop of salty snot that comes from her rodent-like nose. She sickens me.

Farting in court behind me. Unconscionable. This 50-60 year old fuckwad sitting behind me is farting uncontrollably in the court room. I’m listening to testimony from a woman who has essentially lost her husband to a stroke and I’m mentally forced out of the situation to contemplate this guy’s fart. Unreal. What a filthy fucking animal.

Shitting in the quiet deliberation room. Yes someone actually took a shit in the jury deliberation room toilets while the rest of us waited in silence only a few feet away. We could hear (and smell) everything. The guy came out with no shame whatsoever. How bizarre.

Woman juror: “my son asked me yesterday 'what if the hokey pokey really IS what it’s all about?'" Ha-ha-ha!!!! Isn’t that cute? She’s telling this story to strangers because strangers, by and large, are polite and will laugh to make her feel more comfortable. Even I would laugh if she were telling me this directly, but I’m off in the corner silently judging people so I don’t have to laugh. Still, I think mothers love to sit and swap stories about their fucking kids but they never really listen to one another. As one speaks the other is thinking of her next story to top the previous one. Either that or she’s waiting for the millisecond gap of silence with which she can interrupt and then tell her “well MY oldest did something the other day you wouldn’t believe…” story. And that’s exactly what happens next. The woman “listening” to this amazing story bursts in with her own tale. It begins: “Well I just taught my 8 year-old how to do the laundry. She doesn’t even complain. She wants to learn.” Brav-fucking-o, I think. Relax, lady. What a little miracle that kid is, huh? Who FUCKING CARES? No one, so shut your fucking hole, bitch.

I’ve also noticed that the same goes for people and their hardships. They trade hardship stories like stories about their kids. It’s the same mentality. Everyone is just so desperate to have everyone else in the world know how difficult their life is. Or, more importantly, how much more difficult their life is than yours. Again, no one cares so shut the fuck up. Live your life the best you can and leave everyone else out of it. Well, leave me out of it at the very least.

No, I still enjoy blogging.

Now Judge, I know this is gonna sound kinda wild, but...

2008-12-09T05:38:00.000-08:00

Good morning, faggots. Just wanted to let you know that I apologize for being absent for so long from my beloved blog. I know you can hardly start your pathetic days without my vitriolic prose. Well you're gonna have to wait a little longer. I am currently on jury duty and in a trial. In fucking Worcester, MA. And this town is 100% guilty of being a shithole. Just awful. When the trial is over (Thursday or Friday) I will tell you all about my wonderful time here in the stinking asshole of America. Until then, I thank you for your patience.

No, I'm sure anyone other than Spanish Johnny understood that Bruce reference in my headline. No, Spanish Johnny isn't the only person who reads this blog anyway. No, Bruce-related humor isn't the highest form of humor that can be achieved by mortals.

The first in a series of astounding Bruce shows for your enjoyment.

2008-11-28T12:48:00.001-08:00

From a radio broadcast in 1978. Download it right here now. You will not regret it. And maybe it will help you understand, you fucking moron.

The Same Old Played Out Scenes

The Fox Theater, Atlanta , Georgia
September 30, 1978

Disc 1
1. Introduction
2. Good Rocking Tonight
3. Badlands
4. Spirit In The Night
5. Darkness On The Edge Of Town
6. Independence Day
7. The Promised Land
8. Prove It All Night
9. Racing In The Street
10. Thunder Road
11. Jungleland

Disc 2
1. Introduction
2. Santa Claus Is Coming To Town
3. Night Train
4. Fire
5. Candy's Room
6. Because The Night
7. Point Blank
8. Not Fade Away / Gloria / She's The One
9. Backstreets

Disc 3
1. Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)
2. Born To Run
3. Tenth Avenue Freeze Out
4. Devil With The Blue Dress Medley
5. Raise Your Hand

Not too angry with you for not downloading this already.

Are you fucking stupid?

2008-11-25T13:12:00.000-08:00

If you are -and let's admit right now that that's pretty likely- then you haven't come to realize that this man is as close to a God that this world has ever seen.

Need more evidence, you cunt-lipped moron?

What? You need even more proof? Holy fuck are you retarded.

Wow. I am astounded by your dumb-fuckedness. Here's one last piece of proof. A piece de resistance, if you will. (No, that Bruce-related joke will make sense to anyone other than Spanish Johnny). It doesn't get any better than this. Enjoy, you stupid bastards.

No, I know how to win over people in a thoughtful and intelligent way.

Fuck you all!

2008-11-24T13:44:00.001-08:00

Have a shitty Thanksgiving.

Fucking no-comment-making-motherfuckers.

You think I do this for my health?

Fuck you.

And fuck you too, Spanish Johnny.

No, I don't have too much "asshole art" hanging on my walls at home.

Jesus fucking Christ on a cross is this unfunny.

2008-11-17T16:29:00.000-08:00

I was directed to a "Christian humor" website by the swarthy, talented and huge-cocked Spanish Johnny. I will share one of my findings with you now. But first let me just say that I totally understand that my humor is not suited for everyone. Duh. But that's the difference between evangelists/hypochrists/christians and me. Not only do they know their religion is the only one for everyone but they think their fucking gay-ass, dumb-as-fuck humor is too.

Check out this ridiculously unfunny whore's little song about motherhood (no, not the new MILF Ghetto porno by the same name, but, rather, the actual act of mothering) . The woman who posted it on the Christian humor website says "If you've not seen this video by Anita Renfroe of what a mom says in a day, get the kleenex because you'll be laughing until tears form. It's hilarious and sooo true" Note the annoying amount of Os in "sooo". Also note that either she spelled the woman's name wrong. Oh yeah wow she must really love her stuff. I cannot believe "Anita Renfroe" or "Anna Roefrend" gets a standing ovation for this piece of shit.

Ummm, what's with the lyric sheet coming in and obstructing the view at the end? Was that when she flashed her saggy mom tits?

Not too going to hell.

"My fucking vagina is so much bigger than yours."

2008-11-14T18:07:00.000-08:00

That's what I wanted to say to this uptight, pursed-lipped, tiny woman on the elevator today.

But I didn't.

Faggot.

Not too worthy of my own HBO special.

August 10th, 1977. Young Nobes poses with Dad's girlfriends

2008-11-13T12:55:00.000-08:00

Not too avoiding the real pain of having such a screwed up childhood.

I pour my heart out and get no comments?

2008-11-12T10:11:00.000-08:00

You can all go fuck yourselves.

Dicks.

Hmmm, I wonder where my anger comes from?

Not too desperate for acceptance.

"Why thank you for the generous offer, dear Sir, but I am afraid I must respectfully decline."

2008-11-10T16:30:00.000-08:00

The year was 1989. I was just a young lad, barely old enough to legally drink. Yet there I was, drinking with my father and my brother. We were in a ski house on Lake Tahoe (not too privileged) in the middle of Summer (not too not- privileged to be there in the off-season). It was a nice house. There was a pool table and poker table in the basement. And that's where we were drinking. It was after yet another family dinner filled with tension and agonizingly drawn-out conversation about how inadequate we were. The attendees at said dinner were my brother and his girlfriend, my father and his girlfriend, and me. Can you say awkward? I was the fifth wheel with zero chance of getting laid. Or was I? (more on that later). At dinners such as this one, Dad was famous for belittling my brother and I in front of our and his girlfriends. This time Dad had informed everyone of how selfish we were for not taking everyone's drink orders without being told to do so. Even though dinner was still a good half an hour away and WE were the ones cooking it on the grill while he and his "ladyfriend" chopped fucking lettuce in the kitchen, drank vodka and played Elton John way too loud. (SIDE NOTE: I can hear your sarcastic asses now "oooh what a monster your father was. He said you didn't take drink orders properly. Wow, what abuse." First of all, I'm not doing this to evoke sympathy. Just laughs. But still it was fucking annoying and verbally abusive when he did that shit. Just ask my therapist - whom, by the way, I made weep one day from a tale I will probably never share with you cynical dickweeds.) One other time at dinner, a drunken Dad, asked my brother's fiance "why would anyone want to marry him (my brother)?" Hmmm, nice question to ask of the girl who just said yes to marrying him. I wish she had fired back with something nasty, but she didn't. She attempted to give an honest, thought-out response, as if his question deserved one. I just sat there and played with the butter. Yes, I had to sit through that uneasy exchange. But by then I was used to horribly uncomfortable table talk. Anyhooooo, so back in Lake Tahoe, we had just finished a "meal of food", as Will Ferrall said in Old School, and then it was off to the basement for some good old-fashioned guy time while the ladies went to bed. Dad liked to get me and my brother alone after dinner and repeatedly hit us in the stomach with a souvenir miniature baseball bat - that we were given on bat day at Shea Stadium- until we threw up our food. Then he made us eat it again. God, it was so hard to eat while we choked on our tears. I'm KIDDING!! Ha-ha, isn't that funny? Don't worry, I have a feeling that what I'm about to tell you next will more than make up for any feelings of betrayal you feel about me lying about being mini-batted in the stomach. I guess, in a way, what happens next was a punch in the stomach. Just a verbal one. So anyway....we were down in the basement having a great time. We played pool and drank beer. We played Trivial Pursuit like any all-American family. And then we played Quarters, also like any all-American family. Much of this is on videotape. Maybe someday, I'll have the guts to post a clip or two. So my brother and I are pretty fucking good at Quarters because we've been playing it since we were like 13 and because we were so good at it, we managed to get Dad really, really fucked up. He was slurring his words. But what my brother and I heard him say next was perfectly fucking clear. He looked at me and said "You know, Elizabeth* (his girlfriend and not her real name, by the way) is upstairs." "Uh-huh," I replied. He continued, "you can go up there and have her if you want." "Uh-huh," I replied emotionlessly. "No seriously, we talked about it. You can fuck her." Now, let's pause here for a second and let me ask you question. Um, how exactly should a son reply to his father when posed with such proposition? I don't think Emily Post has a chapter on that in her guide to proper etiquette. And likewise, I didn't know what to say. I was disgusted then slightly turned on (she was a MILF) and then utterly disgusted at myself and my father and his girlfriend. I didn't know what to do. I was not raised to know what to do in a situation like that. Is anyone? I looked at my brother. I think he would've said something if his jaw weren't somewhere on the floor. I somehow, miraculously, managed to move beyond it and tried desperately to distract my father from this sick, twisted train of thought. I was really used to completely repressing anything uncomfortable, sad or reprehensible that my father or my mother and her Asian cock-holding boyfriend did or said so I kept drinking. My brother and I told Dad to get his drunk ass up to bed and that we'd be up in a minute to bang him. Again, I'm kidding. But, sadly, only about that last sentence. The rest is unbelievably true. My brother and I often recount the story and we laugh. Once again, I find myself with no option left but to laugh. To confront the reality of it would make me curl up in a ball and slice my skin with razor blades coated in rubbing alcohol. My father is no longer with us. He died about ten years ago. I think he might get pissed off if he knew that I "published" this story. But part of me thinks he'd get a kick out of it too. He was a sick fuck. And because of that, so am I. He had a very fucked up sense of humor from living through a God-awful childhood of his own so maybe he'd understand why I wrote this and why I laugh about it. Then again, maybe he'd just say "You know, kiddo, the offer still stands."

Not too good of a story to tell on a first date.

A special post just for Spanish Johnny

2008-11-10T07:35:00.000-08:00

Not the most awesome Jackson album cover of all-time.

Thank fucking God.

2008-11-05T06:09:00.000-08:00

Now maybe that loser whore , Sarah Palin, will be so desperate for attention she'll have to pose for Playboy or Penthouse.

Oh and also, thank God that Obama was elected. My faith in this country is restored. I'm sure everything from here on out will be all right. Or should I say dyn-o-mite!!!!! (take it easy, you sensitive pussies, you know where I stand with Obama. I voted for him and I'm fucking stoked as fuck that he's our President Elect.)

Not too up your ass, evangelical dicks!!

Yeah, It's called my fucking childhood

2008-10-29T06:47:00.000-07:00

Scientists Identify Brain's 'Hate Circuit'

Buzz UpSendSharePrint
43 mins ago

WEDNESDAY, Oct. 29 (HealthDay News) -- British researchers say they've identified a "hate circuit" in the brain. This hate circuit shares part of the brain associated with aggression, but is distinct from areas related to emotions such as fear, threat, and danger, said researchers Professor Semir Zeki and John Romaya, of University College London's laboratory of neurobiology. The study was published online Oct. 29 in the journal PLoS One.

"Hate is often considered to be an evil passion that should, in a better world, be tamed, controlled, and eradicated," Zeki said in a journal news release. "Yet to the biologist, hate is a passion that is of equal interest to love. Like love, it is often seemingly irrational and can lead individuals to heroic and evil deeds. How can two opposite sentiments lead to the same behavior?"
In this study, 17 female and male volunteers underwent brain scans while they looked at photos of a person they hated, along with photos of a "neutral" person. Looking at images of hated people triggered activity in an area that includes structures in the cortex and in the sub-cortex as well as components that generate aggressive behavior and translate it into action.
The hate circuit also includes a part of the frontal cortex that's believed to play a major role in predicting the actions of others, likely an important feature when a person is faced with someone they hate, the researchers said.
The sub-cortical activity of the hate circuit involves two structures called the putamen and insula. The putamen plays a role in the perception of contempt and disgust, and may be part of the motor system that's mobilized to take action, the scientists said.
"Significantly, the putamen and insula are also both activated by romantic love. This is not surprising. The putamen could also be involved in the preparation of aggressive acts in a romantic context, as in situations when a rival presents a danger. Previous studies have suggested that the insula may be involved in responses to distressing stimuli, and the viewing of both a loved one and a hated face may BABY WE CAN SLIP AWAY contribute such a distressing signal," Zeki said.
He added that activity in parts of the hate circuit matches the strength of the person's declared intensity of hate, "thus allowing the subjective state of hate to be objectively quantified. This finding may have legal implications in criminal cases, for example."

Not too much of a waste of your time.

Mission accomplished

2008-10-27T09:20:00.001-07:00

Not too lazy.

I've essentially had an asian cock in my mouth.

2008-10-16T12:01:00.000-07:00

When I was about 16 years old I found a picture of my mother's boyfriend with his cock in his hand. Oh do I have your attention now? Fuck yeah I do. So anyway, I found this picture right out in the open. If one considers "right out in the open" to mean deep in the back of her underwear drawer underneath some packages of everyday hosiery. And who doesn't? Well I certainly do. I guess that's why I was the little asshole who used to go through everyone's drawers in the house. I don't know why. Most of the time, I found nothing. And ninety percent of the time that I did find something, it was emotionally scarring. Yet I searched and searched. I found a bottle of Demerol in my Dad's briefcase when I was 14. I took one and had the best fucking high of my life as I melted into the family couch and watched a video I had rented earlier in the day called "Bloodsucking Freaks." It's a nice movie, you should check it out. But I digress. So I found this fucking disgusting picture of my mother's Asian boyfriend sitting on the couch in my mother's room. Oh and did I mention that his cock was in his hand? I did? Okay, just wanted to be sure that you knew the picture was of my mom's Asian boyfriend with his cock in his hand. Anyway, the "portrait" was taken with him sitting on the very couch I had to sit down on when my legs nearly gave way after finding the picture. Legs that then catapulted me out of that fucking seat the second I realized I was sitting in the same spot as my mom's big-cock-holdin' boyfriend was in the picture. I've never moved so fast. It was as if someone had lit a brick of firecrackers under my nuts. I looked at this photo for a long time. Why? What the fuck is wrong with me? I don't know. I was mesmerized. I felt like this moment couldn't possibly be happening. But, of course, sadly, it was. The guy was slumped on the couch, holding his erect penis in his hand with his tongue sticking out, trying to be seductive. No, seriously. Like that's so sexy. A fucking tongue hanging out like a tired dog or a dead raccoon on the side of the road. Ignoring his twisted visage I instead focused on the matter at hand, so to speak. His cock. It was way bigger than I had been led to believe Asian men normally had. This disturbed me on so many levels. Seeking strength in numbers, I yelled for my brother to come into the room immediately. In the time it took him to run into the room, something devastating dawned upon me- someone had to take that picture. I'm nearly vomiting as I write about it so you can imagine how I felt then. Yes, it occurred to me that my fucking mom snapped this shot. The blood rushed from my head, and I smelled burning oranges. I was milliseconds from fainting when my brother came into the room, saw the picture and laughed uproariously. That laughter brought me back to reality. Thank God he was there. It was hilarious. I see that now. I have to. What the hell else can I do but laugh? My mother's boyfriend- who, by the way, was a total dickweed elitist douche- was holding his cock right in front of us. He had no idea we could see his humiliating display and that was great for us. Every time we saw him thereafter we'd giggle like little schoolgirls and he'd have no idea why. Tee-hee! Of course, if he had a ladyfinger (Asian firework reference) dick, it would've been a lot better but this was still pretty awesome. What a total dick. Who would pose for a photo like that? You might then ask who would take a picture like that? Hey, back the fuck off, that's my mom. I love her very much, and if she wants to get a little freaky in her spare time, that's cool. Just hide the shit better next time. Damn, girl. You know you raised disrespectful asshole kids who had no respect for anyone's privacy, you shoulda locked that shit up in a safe deposit box. Anyway, here's the kicker. That guy was not only my mom's boyfriend. He was also my dentist. I had to see him for another year or two after that for bi-annual cleanings. That's right, a man who's dick I clearly should never, ever have seen had his dick-holding hands all up in my mouth. His dick by proxy was in my mouth. Sure he wore rubber gloves but do you think that made it any better in my mind? Now I knew what his dick in a rubber tasted like, essentially. I have not visited a male dentist since. No, I'm stable and rational.

Not too cock-asian.

Tee-hee!

2008-10-15T08:55:00.000-07:00

WASHINGTON (CNN) -- Vice President Dick Cheney will visit George Washington University Hospital on Wednesday after doctors discovered a recurrence of an abnormal heart rhythm, his spokeswoman said in a written statement.

Vice President Dick Cheney has a history of heart problems, including several heart attacks.

Doctors discovered Wednesday that Cheney was "experiencing a recurrence of atrial fibrillation, an abnormal rhythm involving the upper chambers of the heart," Megan Mitchell said.

He will undergo an outpatient procedure to restore his normal rhythm, she said.

Cheney canceled a Wednesday campaign event in Illinois for Marty Ozinga, a Republican nominee for a U.S. congressional seat.

The 67-year-old vice president has a history of heart ailments, including four heart attacks dating to 1978. He was briefly hospitalized in January 2006 after suffering shortness of breath.

Cheney also experienced an abnormal rhythm in the upper chambers of his heart November 26. His normal heart rhythm was restored through a procedure called cardioversion, which uses an electrical impulse.

At the time, Cheney complained of a lingering cough from a cold.

Not too on the FBI watch list now.

God damn it, Larry Flynt, you asshole!

2008-10-14T09:13:00.000-07:00

Larry Flynt's "Hustler" is producing a video depicting maverick milf, Sarah Palin, in hot sexual situations. Good idea? Fuck yeah it is. Too bad they cast some ugly pig who looks nothing like Palin to play the part.

It's a fucking disgrace. Doesn't anyone take pride in creating porno anymore (that's a whole other post for sure)? I was really looking forward to this fine film too. Now there's only a 90% chance I will rent or buy it. Fucking Larry Flynt. He has to half-ass everything. Nothing he does is ever done well. I bet the guy can't even walk well. Oh....right.

(Hey Spanish Johnny, take notice of the full-back panties. You like that right? You're a fucking filthy animal. )

Not too indebted to Larry Flynt and his tireless efforts to preserve freedom of speech even though he can barely speak.

More of the funniest website of all-time

2008-10-09T06:25:00.000-07:00

The site, www.focusonthefamily.com is a goldmine. The founder, James Dobson, is a fucking crackpot Jesus freak, self-loathing homo who thinks homosexuality is a sinful choice. According to the always reliable and accurate Wikipedia, Dobson is so vehemently against the gay lifestyle that he accused Spongebob Squarepants of being a shill for the homosexual community. Check this out: "In the winter of 2004-2005, the We Are Family Foundation sent American elementary schools approximately 60,000 copies of a free DVD using popular cartoon characters (most notably Sponge Bob) to "promote tolerance and diversity." Dobson contended that "tolerance and diversity" are "buzzwords" that the We Are Family Foundation misused as part of a hidden agenda to promote homosexuality. The New York Times noted Dobson asserting: "tolerance and its first cousin, diversity, 'are almost always buzzwords for homosexual advocacy.'" Umm, guess what, Mr. Dobson? You are fucking gay! You've been denying it your whole life. But you can't fight it when you see those choir boys in your church kneel down and open their mouths for that wafer, huh? At that moment, even at your advanced age, I'm sure your dick gets hard as a fucking rock. I am positive at some point- and probably a lot more than I can even imagine- Dobson has had hardcore gay sex. He will burn in hell, if there is one. Not for being gay, of course, but for denying being gay and for making so many poor fucking kids/adults afraid to come out. And for teaching intolerance and what is essentially gay-bashing. What a fucking dick hole.

Anyway, here's a fun little article on parenting from Dobson's website. Enjoy.

Are You a Pinocchio Parent?
by Shana Schutte

Do you remember Pinocchio, the little wooden boy carved from a piece of pine by the woodcarver, Geppetto? (Mind you, this article is meant for parents, not children and already it's starting off so fucking condescending.) Even though Pinocchio dreamt of becoming a real boy, there was very little real about him – except that he had a nasty habit of lying. Whenever he lied, his nose grew. If he told a whopper, it grew very long, while a little white lie caused only a little growth. (Of course Dobson loves this story. A little boy made of "wood" whose nose grows? I mean, could it be any more about getting erections?)

According to Dr. Chuck Borsellino (Never trust anyone with that first name) , the author of Pinocchio Parenting (what a gay title) , many adults suffer from Pinocchio's problem. No, they're not blatant liars, and their noses don't grow (No way! Really?), but they use false clichés to teach their kids, which can be problematic.

Before you think you couldn't possibly be a "Pinocchio Parent," check out these four common lies that adults tell their children (One of them is that the Earth was created 4,000 years ago, right?). While people may repeat these untruths at any time, I've broken them down by ages and stages for extra insight. (Ooh, I can't wait for Shana's amazing insight)

Early Stages (0-3)
"Yes, Honey, there is a Santa Claus."

During the Christmas holidays, tiny tots all over the United States (yes, only in the United States, because everywhere else the heathens wait for a giant monkey to deliver their toys) gather in shopping malls to sit on Santa's lap. Soon, with a little coaching from Mom and Dad, our littlest citizens believe in the magic man in the red hat and long, white flowing beard. (No, instead we must teach them that this holiday about about a magic man with long hair and a white flowing beard who sees you when you sleep and knows when you've been good or bad. And you have to pray to him every Sunday or else he'll make sure you burn in a pit of fire when you die.)

You might be thinking, OK, wait a minute! What's wrong with Santa? He is part of the magic of Christmas. Granted, many people agree that there isn't anything wrong with St. Nick, including Dr. Dobson, the founder of Focus on the Family. "I wouldn't take that away from early childhood. My kids loved Santa." (So what's your fucking point, asshole?)

While Dr. Borsellino agrees with Dobson that play and fantasy are a fun (and sexy!) part of childhood, the main lesson parents should glean from Santa is to be "careful telling your kids anything that you'll have to un-tell them later." (Like "mommy and daddy love each other very much" or "Daddies always feed kids with their special milking hose when mommy's boobies dry up.")

Discovery Years (ages 4-7)
"What's on the inside is what matters." (Especially with vaginas)

The first time that Julia came home from middle school crying because her classmates ridiculed her about her "elephant-size" ears, her mother tried to comfort her by saying, "Sweetheart, it's what's on the inside that matters." ("Take mommy, for instance. I am rotting on the inside because every dream I ever had for myself died when you emerged from my swollen hole. That's when I got a new identity called 'mommy' and I stopped being myself. But it's okay because the role of 'mommy' is so liberating and completely unique to my existence. Hold on, Dear, while I put this gun in my mouth and blow my brains out.")

While this sounds like a good argument because what's on the inside does matter to God, the truth is that we in the United States have a beauty bias. And, according to Borsellino, "We lie [to our kids] when we don't face that." (You know what, I can't argue with this. Damn! If your kid is fugly, you'd better prepare them for the life of abuse, lies and disappointment that awaits them. But first you have to admit your kid is ugly. Come to your fucking senses, people. I know you think your kid is beautiful but, guess what, every parent thinks that. You know that ugly girl in middle school that you made fun of for having a huge forehead? Yeah her mom though she was beautiful. So take a close look at your kid. Think about the odds. Notice how many good looking people you see in a day versus how many ugly fuckers you see. Get the point? The odds are against you and your ugly kid. Best start preparing them now. )

What can a parent do when teens, especially girls, are demoralized by the world's message that you don't matter if you don't look like a movie star? While a parent does not want to emphasize outward appearances, Borsellino believes parents should teach kids to make the most of what God gave them ("accentuate the tits," Borsellino suggested.) . "If the barn door needs painting, paint it," (not too sexually suggestive) he says. We should also eat healthy and exercise to take care of our bodies. Of course, making the most of our outward appearance should never be done at the expense of faith or character. (So no "Cum on Jesus" tattoo above the ass crack?)

Tween Ages (ages 8-12)
"The best things in life are free."

When your children start to grow, it's natural for you to want to teach them to be grateful. You want them to value the little things in life, right? For this reason, just about every parent tells their kids, "The best things in life are free."

While this may sound good, the question is this: when is the last time you really valued something that was free? (But wait, I'm confused, this seems very un-Christian) It's probably been a long time, or it may have never happened. The truth is that anything that is worth something costs something. It costs courage, dedication, money, sacrifice or relational commitment. (Oh wow, my mind is officially blown! What a twist! This is better than anything that Hitchcock or M. Night Shyamalan could come up with.)

The college graduate who studied for years will tell you they value their diploma. The husband and wife who have worked their way out of a deep marital ditch will tell you that a healthy marriage isn't free. The young pastor who works two jobs to keep his congregation afloat will say that it costs dedication (and a lot of money to settle all those kid raping cases. Damn loud-mouthed little faggots!).

So you see, the truth is that the best things in life aren't free, and according to Dr. Borsellino, "Whatever you earn cheaply, you will also value to the same degree." No doubt, this is a great truth to teach your kids. (And be sure when they ask "mommy, was I free" that you tell them the fucking reality; "No, Billy, you were not free. Mommy had to give up her dreams, her body and her sexuality for you. And Daddy had to give up being attracted to mommy and 10 years off of his retirement and that's why he sees a whore now.")

Teen Phases (ages 13-18)
"You can be anything you want to be."

When parents want to encourage their teens about finding a career they often say, "You can be anything you want to be." Is it a lie? Absolutely. (And because you've properly trained your children to take everything they see, hear and read literally, like the Bible,

"The truth is, if you're 4'9 (and white) ," says Borsellino, "you can't play in the NBA."It is also true that we have more opportunities in the United States (if you're white) than just about anywhere else in the world, but no one can be whatever they want. A skilled engineer will probably go crazy trying to write a book, and an artist would most likely go bananas if she had to crunch numbers for a living. Yes, God has given everyone gifts, but no one has every gift. (So- in an effort to encourage and motivate your little cunt kids definitely don't tell them they should "reach for the stars", because that's utter bullshit. How could they possibly reach the stars? They are millions of miles away! Could these Christians be any more literal? Okay, sure, you can't be anything you want in life but should you stop them from trying? I don't think anyone- even the kids who hear that phrase- are taking it literally. But then again, we are talking about Christians here. They think a man turned water into wine and that's a fucking FACT!!!!)

Rather than tell kids they can be whatever they want, Dr. Borsellino suggests that parents ask themselves, "What kind of gifts and talents can I fertilize in my children?" (Wait, say that last sentence again, I want to lube up.) In other words, how can I encourage growth of the particular gifts, talents and bents that God has placed in each of my children? Parents should also teach their kids to strive for excellence by doing their best with whatever skills and talents God has given them (But what if that talent just happens to be giving the most exquisite blow jobs? What then? I don't mean every day, run-of-the-mill blow jobs. I mean like the best fucking head on the planet. What if that was the one skill your [over 18 years old, you fucking animals!] kid was given? Someone's gotta have it, right? Spanish Johnny?)

Most importantly, Borsellino wants his readers to know that the most dangerous lie is not one we tell our kids, but the one we tell ourselves. It's when we say, "I don’t matter." (Huh? Who the fuck says this?) No doubt, this lie will rob parents who believe it of their ability to parent effectively.

The greatest proof that we do matter is the cross (yes, an instrument of torture and unthinkable pain is all the proof I need.) Through Christ's act of unconditional love, God said, "You mean the world to me, even if the world says you don't matter." (So, why does your faggot doctor infer that saying "I don't matter" is the worst lie of all?) Not only is this one of the greatest truths that parents should embrace, but it's one they can share with their children, at any age or stage. (Yes, definitely try sitting down with your 15 year old and share this with them. I'm sure it will mean so much and make a huge difference in their life.)

By the way, for the record, I am not anti-Christian but I am anti-preaching. Go make sense of that.

Not too evaginacal.

PS> Say "hi" to your mother for me, okay?

"Oh my Gash"

2008-10-03T05:14:00.000-07:00

This morning I was greeted by newspaper headlines like "Palin passes" and "no fatal slips as Biden, Palin tussle for title of reformer." No fatal slips? What about that hackneyed fucking winking? What about her absolute lack of substance? I knew it. If she didn't take a shit on stage it was virtually guaranteed the weak press would laud her performance as a rousing success. I can't believe it but America really is less interested in facts, substance and track records than they are in snappy eye wear, pretty hair, supple, pouty lips, bedroom eyes, a perfect smile, milky, flawless legs, a tight little ass that won't quit and is begging for a hard spanking. Oh fuck it, PALIN FOR PRESIDENT!!!!!!

No, I'll have a lot to talk about when the election is over.

Oh....my....God

2008-10-01T06:38:00.000-07:00

These things actually vote? This country is fucked.

Not too genetically blessed.

He takes shits that are smarter than you.

2008-09-29T05:30:00.000-07:00

Palin comparison.

What a caption! Well I might as well be the first to say it, right? I mean, about a million other people will be saying it and reading it in tabloid papers and on the news on Friday after the Vice Presidential debate. I can hear my local newswoman now: "Palin comparison. How did the governor of Alaska fare against Senator Joe Biden? We'll have detailed analysis. Also, shower curtain rings. Circles of death? A report every mom should hear! Tonight at 11." God, they sicken me. Anyway, back to Sarah Palin. Good luck, whore. You have about as good a chance against Biden as that kid you claim is your son, "Trig", has against, oh I don't know, a rubber ball with a bell in it? Suck my nut, bitch. Go away.

Not too predictable (the post, the outcome of the debate and the gay caption)

"Your cock looks magnificent today."

2008-09-26T06:35:00.000-07:00

In the elevator today, I heard - surprise - yet another fucking mundane, predictable conversation. Why do people suddenly become Corky when they get inside an elevator? Here's the conversation two normally intelligent women had.

GIRL1: It's so gross out today.

GIRL2: I KNOW!

GIRL1: Uggh, this day can't be over fast enough.

GIRL2: This week has been the longest week ever.

Now, the irony of me talking about how people are such cliches by using the old, cliched example of elevator chatter is not lost on me. However, I'm writing this blog and you're merely reading it, so suck it. Besides, my point isn't so much what people are saying but what people are not saying. It's too bad we can't say what's really on our minds in elevators (I smell a Seinfeld bit coming on!) . Or anywhere for that matter. So here are a few conversation starters for anyone who wants to be a little less predictable and a little more "real" in an elevator.

1) "My your cock looks magnificent today." - What fucking guy wouldn't want to hear this compliment? And yes, it would be a compliment. Guys are shallow and insecure (soooo different from the ladies!) and would love to hear this. Which begs the question, why would you gals recoil at someone saying "Your jugs look so fucking good today"? Okay, replace "jugs" with the more sensitive "boobs." Either way you'd probably call the cops. Yet if you said "fuck your package looks sweet" guys would beam with pride. Boy I guess women really are from Venus and men are from Mars. Ha-ha, am I right? Hello? Is anyone still here?

2) "I can see your asshole in those pants."- If a complete stranger said this to me, I would instantly love them. I would also be unable to catch my breath from laughing so hard.

3) "Oh hi, Janice. Hey, I heard your kid is a faggot." -May be slightly offensive, I guess.

4) "Have you been reading Mega Superior Gold lately? My god is that guy funny. And hot." - No explanation necessary, just give the Kid a fucking break, okay?

5) "Nothing would make me happier than to punch all of you in the genitals right now." -A great way to get the elevator all to yourself. And people would be talking about it all day.

6) "This week has been the longest week ever!" - I guess my point is just as retarded as the conversations I speak about. You can't really say that shit out loud. People will look at you funny. And call the cops. It's a shame though. Because elevator rides could be so much more entertaining if people would loosen up and not take everything so seriously. What a bunch of faggots you all are.

Not too going nowhere.