In vitriol

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.

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)

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.

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!"

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.

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.

God bless the fail blog. 

Not too faily. 

Okay I want my money back now please.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.