How To Survive in Florida

Survival... Florida... A place like no other in this great land (but not Target Greatland... I love that place...) we call the US of Aye. To survive in this "Florida" takes some serious cajones (that's Mexican for balls) and talent... loads of talent. To make it here you need to become one with the local inhabitants, so here are a few tips to help you camouflage yourself like a Floridian.

Sunscreen. Throw that shit out, you don't need it. Moles are what you need, big, discolored, oddly shaped moles covering your leathery, wrinkled face. I would get to work on this right away if I were you.

Smokes. Gotta have smokes, preferably Pall Mall, GPC or some other shit brand you can procure at the Haji Mart across the street. Smoker voice is kind of a big deal in these parts (especially women...very sexy), now get to puffing.

Dew. Yep Mountain Fuckin' Dew. Get some, it doesn't matter if it's Code Red, PURPLE or whatever color, just start pounding that shit day and night; you got teeth to soften up.

Hammer. You're gonna need a hammer to knock out the teeth that you have been softening up with the Dew. Hopefully they just fall out and you won't have to smash too hard; make sure you leave one or two though... don't wanna overdo it.

Pills. You are now in need of Scripts to counter all of that pain in your mouth. I suggest oxy-whatevers, you can get them anywhere and your new friends in the trailer park will love you for sharing.

Disability. Get on that shit! Why the hell would you wanna work when you got all that Dew to drink, cigs to smoke and pills to pop? Makes my back hurt just thinkin' about it.

Six Pack. The Haji Mart across the street is always running specials on 211 or Meister Brau Ice or some kinda cheap ass beer; so get over there it's almost 9:00 a.m. for Christ's sake!

Now sit back in your white plastic chair, soak up some rays and enjoy the fruits of your labor... you've earned it!

America Fuck Yeah!!!!

Twelve months.

Twelve fucking months.

Osama Bin Laden, DEAD.

Muammar Gaddafi, DEAD

Kim Jong Il, DEAD

The foes of the American way of life are dropping like flies, but there is much work to be done...

Kim Kar D'Shian, ALIVE.

Alive and stinking up the airways of freedom loving Americans.

Solution: Drop her in Mogadishu and allow her to procure a virulent strain of Aids that can end her tele-terrorism.

Barack Obama, ALIVE.

Making promises and writing checks from a "borrowed" (I have alerted local law enforcement) American checkbook.

Solution: Spray Axe Deodorant Body Spray to diminish the B.O. below recognizable levels until the next election... when we elect a new piece of shit with a pen.

The NBA, ALIVE.

Greedy, overpaid, under-educated entertainers. Barnum would have paid them in fish heads... if that.

Solution: Shut the fuckers down, nobody gives a shit anymore, Americans with tangible skills are unemployed and these self serving fuck-sticks are going back to work...WHAT THE FUCK?

America the job is only half done, the time has come to battle our domestic terrorists; we are bringing home "The Troops" from the embattled Middle East to a home-front of joblessness, reality television and subsidized professional sports.

I say re-deploy the boys to wherever the hell a Kar D'Shian is and take 'em out.

Make a defensive wall around "America's" checkbook and hire some CPA'S to balance the damn thing.

Lastly, go ahead and dispose of Kobe, Dwayne, Lebron and all the rest of CB4. These "Americans" have no clue what the rest of us have been through and how dare they play "poor me" on the heart strings of the working class that have paid their salaries and supported their extravagant lifestyles. 

There is something called the PBR on Versus Network and that shit is badass!

America... Fuck Yeah... Now get your head out of your fucking ass and do this shit!

Florida is Lovely This Time of Year

The temperature has now dropped to 40 some odd degrees here in South Central Florida and would you believe that all of the damn alligators are still alive? This is total bullshit! This has completely fucked up my plans for the day.

Florida has a plethora of less than useful wildlife of which the alligator is included, I for one hate all of them and wouldn't mind taking a napalm frag to this whole damn flea-ridden place; mind you that would end the glory that is I; then what would you do on a chilly Friday morning in December? Work? This is America none of you actually work, get over yourselves... assholes.

The Sunshine State, or so it has been called, is less a "wonderland," (that's what my body is) and more of an ancient tar pit luring us slow moving mastodons to the promise of relaxation and the quenching of our thirsts. All the while a boiling cauldron of shit is hiding just below the surface ready to entomb us for eternity (or at least until some future archaeologist comes along and digs me up and says "What the fuck is this?" "Looks like an extinct race of sub-human encased in shit." "He appears (they know I'm a male because of my fossilized dick-bone) to be entangled (from battling) with an alligator, a shark, 13 fleas, 6 cockroaches and a 1993 Cadillac Seville driven by an elderly woman wearing broken glasses and a blue wig?" 

Very little useful information will be disseminated from the discovery of my twisted corpse, because future man will be so traumatized by finding his evolutionary link in such a state that they will just blow up whatever the hell is still left of Florida (by then most of it will be back under water, where it belongs) in an attempt to erase their shame.

This stretch of sun blanched atoll is better left to all the worthless animals that have made their way here. Things migrate to Florida to die. The elderly, white trash, alligators; all completely useless and just biding the time that they have left on a little strip of land soon to be reclaimed by the depths.
Florida is lovely this time of year!

What Are You Thankful For?

Hey, it's Thanksgiving so we are all supposed to share what we are thankful for, here is some shit that I may or may not be grateful for.

Spice Racks, you put shit on 'em so you look like you know how to cook.

Boobs, they really fill out that shirt.

Sunglasses, especially over-sized ones that hide how jacked up your face actually is and you look kinda cute when they are on, but then you take 'em off and I wanna kick you in your mouth gape.

Turn Signals, I live in Florida,what the fuck are those?

Screen Doors, but just the one I forgot I closed about thirty seconds ago and then walked into on my return trip. I love doing that shit.

Tacos, they're good.

Support Hose, all the old birds down here wear 'em, but what are they supporting?

Quarks, sub atomic particles are bullshit.

Cows, I'm from Wisconsin, fuck you.

I could make a list about thirty three yards long if I keep going, but instead I'm gonna drink my face off and try to get laid.

Your Welcome.

Next Time Call the Super Friends

Politics.
Economy.
The Economy of Politics?
The Politics of Economy?
Super Committee.
Super Friends.
The Committee of Super Friends?
The Super Committee of Friends?
Budget.
Balance.
The Balancing of Budget?
The Budgeting of Balance?
Words.
Bullshit.
If you put all of these words together and spend billions of taxpayer dollars to fund committees or friends or whatever the hell just happened, that is exactly what you get... Bullshit and Words.
Thank You Bi-Partisan Super Think Tank for tanking what we thought was a potential Balancing of our economic woes.
Just Kidding.
Those of us "in the know" realize that the whirlpool of American politics is just a distraction used to secretly "employ" the power of "The Super Friends" (classic DC comic book/cartoon series in which the greatest super heroes were brought together to foil the schemes of evil) in clandestine operations around the globe in our never ending battle against "The Legion of Doom," DAMMIT I meant terrorism! Economies come and go, but super heroes are forever!
Next time you want to repair our massive budget deficit that "somehow" was exacerbated by frivolous expansions in spending and approvals of "necessary" party ideals remember that many non involved "lay about's" are willing to take "occupancy" of your lost initiatives and claim victory in the name of their "cause."
To resolve this issue Dial 1-900-MIX-ALOT (that is the secret number that only super heroes know) and kick them nasty thoughts.
Seriously, Super Committee?
What a crock of shit.

Sorry About That, I Was Drunk...

Sorry about that last little tongue lashing, I had very little to do with it, but that's the way the cookie (hopefully its a Milano... I love those things) crumbles. I was, needless to say, a tad bit annoyed fifteen minutes ago, but have had some time for inner reflection and feel prepared to share my prior frustration with ya'll. Maybe it had something to do with me being back on the "proverbial" (have you read that book... the old testament is fucked up, I guess drinking is wrong? Whatever.) sauce, or it could have been the complete lack of responsible interest by the American public in pursuing knowledge of the world that is actually determining our current course of action. Truth be told I am completely flaburgasted (How the hell do you spell that?) by our headlines.
Big fucking deal some kid can sing and used to be homeless! Are you aware that the entire Western economy is crumbling in the face of defaulting, tourist euro economies? Does anyone care?
The Earth is in another state of ecological upheaval and is unleashing her fury upon the nation of Alaska and once again in the Autonomous Muslim Nation of Turkey (the country, not the nearly flightless delicious bird of Thanksgiving fame... I love you flightless bird, see you in a few days).
Fine, I mentioned the asteroid that is passing this wonderful spinning globe of a planet by a mere 200,000 or so miles. Wouldn't you assume that an object coming within our orbit and having potential negative impact upon our existence would be mildly interesting to the masses?
It isn't, neither is anything else worth knowing, so the time has arrived to admit that knowledge is dead, Justin Beiber  is the most important "thingy" ever and some other stupid shit that soon to be college grads find imperative to their social survival are what makes this life go round, go round?
Whatever.

Asteroids

DAMMIT!!! I was gonna hang the wash out to dry, but you fucked that up, congratulations to you asteroid! I hate you...

Take That Sobriety

It has been brought to my Attention (dammit, Deficit taking over, Disorder inline, continue...) that I am offensive. Offensive, crass, pandering and lacking the proper set of societal skills and moors to be a successful human doing. Really? Really?
All the education in the world cannot substitute the inherent ability to acquire and disseminate information into useful self perpetuating skills (modus operandi) for host survival (the body is merely the host of the mind in a symbiotic relationship that may or may not end upon physical expiration). This is why I detest babies, babies being the first step of the "independent" evolution of us, have no ability to properly convert stimuli into necessary functions and therefore are reliant on the care of the more evolved matron of the species from which it was birthed. That being said... babies are fucking stupid, do you have any recollection of those first months outside of the confines of your mother? No you don't, because your mind was to under-developed for thought to become function and no meme sequences found you to be suitable for the seeding, germination and distribution (sharing with other "like-minded" individuals) of it's idea. In other words babies are to busy pooping, vomiting and staring blankly at the television to be productive "functioning" members of the group.
I will skip entirely over the rest of collective society (as it could fill volumes of leather bound books) and get to the end of this little diatribe.
I really hate the fucking elderly, here is the culmination of the human experience (as we know it), here is where the brilliance of cellular existence arrives; a sagging, malevolent (notice the root of the term is male...that's bullshit) form of wasted nucleic potential. it is as if the weight of decades of knowledge and experience has enfeebled their being, when in evolutionary terms they should be at the height of their cycle. Instead millions of tiny "nuclear" explosions are occurring rapidly within their lobes inducing a "lobal extinction," (yes I said lobal and not global) of all cellular life and hence the inability to survive under the power of one's self.
However this is all just conjecture and hearsay, who is to say that any of this drivel is anything more than just random words strung together in a sentence genome that ultimately results in paragraphs of expressed thought.
This is exactly why I should be separated from the rest of the group and shamed (just like in school, thank you teachers)
Was this offensive? Absolutely not, but if I told you to go fuck yourself that could be construed as offensive.

Kardashian Fever or Just a Rash...

Oh My God, Kim Kardashian is getting divorced!!!
Seriously... why the hell is this front page news?
Another talent-less, jersey chasing repository of male DNA has failed in the so called game of love... huge surprise. Can anyone even recall why "Thunder Butt" is famous? What has she achieved in her thirty some odd years on this planet that has rewarded her with such fame and financial gain? Lets see, she let a second rate hip hop non-entity film their sexcapades and then it was accidentally leaked to the viewing public... woops. Prior to finding success through sleeping with quasi-famous singers she made a valiant effort to achieve worldwide adulation by marrying the lesser half of R&B production duo The Underdogs; who gave us such wonders as Justin Guarini's debut album and a bunch of shit from Chris Brown... that one ended in the big D and thankfully no Paris Hilton-esque album. She moved onward and upward to professional football players like Miles Austin and Reggie Bush, who like all of her other "conquests" were second class citizens in their own profession. Where to next Kim? Musicians check, athletes check, I think there was a model in there somewhere so check to that as well. By process of elimination we can only assume an actor must be on her ass's broad horizon... Omar Epps, Taye Diggs, maybe even you Paul Walker.
What a complete waste of time and energy this has been, I had to do some research on "Big Dumps" and am so disgusted with myself that I have to put an end to this without even getting into any of the actual Kardashian dirt.
Kris or whatever your name is, you are much better off minus this wind bag and her equally vacuous family. Enjoy your share of the millions from that publicity stunt wedding you participated in and don't worry your NBA career is almost over anyway, so no loss on this season.
Toodles.

I Care About You Guys

Sharing is not actually caring, it is more an expression of one's own will to be important... Now that we got that out in the open, I would like to share some stuff that I care about.
I care for the current psychological state of one Bernard Lawrence Madoff a misunderstood man, who is just searching for a little bit of redemption. So he is completely unapologetic about bilking billions of dollars from investors and stealing the lives and welfare of hard working Americans; he did try to take his own life and is greatly distressed about what he has done to his family (see caring). Mind you his lovely spouse and offspring are also complete pieces of human waste material (investigated for numerous tax violations, frauds, etc... but his wife had no clue what was going on...), however his eldest son cared so deeply for his family he chose to abruptly end his existence while the younger progeny had himself a case of lymphoma to make up for all the lying and stealing stuff.
Bernard was kind enough to re-distribute others wealth to his friends, corporate concerns and his charitable foundations which after his arrest lost millions in funds, probably due to the fact that it was money old Bernie had borrowed (which would imply intent to repay wouldn't it...). Prison life has suited "Don" Madoff well he says, his multiple trips to the infirmary and or hospital were not at all caused by other inmates, but just check-ups on his heart condition (Black heart is a medical condition right? I bet it's from to much caring...). Truthfully it is doubtful that any of his new "house" mates lost a dime from his dealings and usually citizens residing in the "big-house" are innocent of all accusations... most wouldn't hurt any living creature...
Bernie, you have pulled at my heart strings and I forgive you; the loss of your family is an American tragedy and thanks to Barbara Walters we have all been made aware of your suffering.
That is just some stuff I care about... no big deal.

Capitalistic Occupation

Capitalism bought me this laptop. Capitalism bought you a smart phone. Capitalism bought protesters a mega phone and the free time to "occupy" shit.
Capitalism made Oakland a hub of shipping and the railroad industries. Capitalism built the shitty schools that students in Oakland don't bother to attend. Capitalism turned Oakland into a battle ground of ideology.
Capitalism paid for the uniforms and billy clubs used to beat protesters. Capitalism bought the ambulance used to whisk injured combatants to medical attention. Capitalism allows you to pay Dr. Singh from Mumbai to stitch up your wounds and send you off in dad's BMW.
Capitalism set up the satellites that you are using to tweet about injustice. Capitalism is letting you skip class at Berkeley tomorrow to go protest Capitalism again. Capitalism will be allowing you to use dad's money to back pack Southeast Asia and find yourself after graduation.
Capitalism will remind you how nice restrooms and hot water are. Capitalism will be footing the bill for that PHD in anthropology you will be receiving. Capitalism is prepared to pay that six figure salary you deserve so much, so that you can warn young minds of the dangers of Capitalism.
Capitalism practices reciprocity and is chilling a platter for you. Capitalism is clogging your arteries with delicious bacon and stealing your hair. Capitalism is devouring your liver with fine wines and scotch.
Capitalism has prepared a wooden box and six foot hole for you and can't wait to thank you for your service.

Forgot to Post This, Because I Have a Drinking Problem

Life as we know it is a short and sometimes cruel short story published in the most obscure of publications, but every once in a blue moon someone comes along and writes an entire "Sports Illustrated, Fall Football Preview" with their life.
Sure their have been some recent departures from the world of the living that would qualify for that issue, but I don't really give a shit because I don't own an i-pod or i-pad or i-whatever the fuck the latest innovation happens to be. In the words of that Indian (feathers not dots) character from "Predator," "Everybody gotta die sometime," and yes the king of the creative computer world was a mere mortal like the rest of us. I hope he is getting some sweet S-jobs in compu-heaven, but does anyone realize that the creator of Doritos recently "bit" the big one? I have spent far more money hangin' on his "Cool Ranch" than I ever did getting Steve's kind of Jobs, just sayin' is all.
Hightower from "Police Academy?" Yep he's a goner.
Some junkies died; Winehouse, the guy from Weezer, that pussy Kanicky from "Grease," and Mike not the Starr of Alice In Chains fame. All taking a dirt nap.
Fitness guru Jack Lalanne finally succumbed to sixty plus years of promoting "women's fitness," Jack shoulda got with the times and realized that "women's fitness" is called porno, porn director's live forever Jack, wrong choice.
How about Warren Christopher? No big deal he only held positions of international importance (Secretary of State, Attorney General, Nerd of Power) during three separate presidential administrations, but you know he didn't do anything that effected anyone.
There is only one passing that need be noted here, only one that brings an era to an end, a man who forgot to "lay low" and finally got caught up. Original "OG" Nate Dogg, I'm pouring out a lil' liquor for you homey.
I hope Jobs (not like Job in the B-I-B-L-E, that guy went through some real shit) is living it up in i-heaven with i-god, but everybody does gotta die sometime and I for one would rather die it up with Nate Dogg and old Jack Lalanne than spend another minute with S-Jobs and his legion of Gen-Y Myrmidon in their unending i-nformation hell.
Goodnight and facebook to you.

The Italian Cafe Across the Street

The Italian Cafe across the street is definitely not my cup of espresso (fucking Italians don't even know the proper vernacular is tea, cup of tea...).
As an Irishman I am predisposed to having a melanin impediment... obviously; that being said why is it then necessary to bring this to my attention?
Is it not obvious that I am relatively aware of my own skin tone and the need to take "precautions" in staving off the burn of the accursed sun? I apologize for being a "ginger" (which by the way is offensive and a wholly unoriginal sentiment, keep watching South Park and learning... assholes) and representing my Irish heritage.
I would also like to apologize for the following sins against the Italians (Mother Mary forgive me for I have... blah, blah, blah... fart): Being in shape, I am very sorry that I am capable of walking all the way across the street in the hot sunshine to spend my wife's hard earned money at your cafe. I know that you had to drive your 1999 Cadillac Boat from your house 100 feet behind the cafe to get here, because you are fucking fat... my bad.
Being attractive, really sorry about this you stupid Dago, It's not my fault that your aquiline nose looks like a Kindergartner molded it from Play-Doh and threw it in your general direction where it accidentally landed on that moon crater you call a face. Thousands of years of "Roman" heritage and this is as far as you people have come? All the make up and hair product on the planet cannot fix what God has done to you (I think he is still mad about that thing you did to his kid... remember, Jesus, you had him whacked-off... not cool).
The fact is I could ask for forgiveness for just about anything, but I would rather let you guys get back to filling your faces with pastas (How do you not realize they all taste the same, they are just different shapes. Do the circles taste like circles and not strings, I don't fucking get it?), shouting at each other while gesticulating wildly about every mundane thing and killing the ozone layer with your hair spray and airbrush eyebrows.
Listen, you are not all in the mafia, there are more names than Vinnie, Joey and Tommy and being Irish kicks ass.
Sure we have Catholicism in common and we enjoy a good argument, but other than that I am far superior to you in every way.
What any of this has to do with my experience in the Italian Cafe this morning, I dunno? I just really wanted to bitch about being singled out for my skin's inability to turn sunlight into bronze (fucking alchemy, I will never be a wizard), but if I'm not mistaken when your skin turns leathery and has lost elasticity shouldn't it be turned into a boot... you know, like your shitty country?

Lets Go To The Beach

This is my Ultimate Beach Guide 2011 Part Two (Part One comes after because it's better than this one and will have all of the upgrades from the fuck-ups in this one... of which there will be none, so there is no Part One... fuck you.)

Lets get started

1. Find Some Sand, is there water... cool you got a beach. If there isn't any water put some sand in one of those empty beer bottles in your truck and bring it to some water... you just made your own beach.

2. Buy Some Fuckin Beer... you got money? No. Dig up all the change from the floor of your truck, make sure you check the glove box and those Taco Bell wrappers under the seat. Purchase whatever you can with your scroungings. Malt liquor works the best so hopefully you got enough.

3. Make Some Shorts... cut-off denim is the best in water, make sure the pockets hang out so you can catch any fish just in case you need bait. If you don't have a knife in the truck try karate choppin' em, that always works for me.

4. Sunglasses... you gotta have eye protection and instead of losin your Blades tie an old shirt around your head and cut out some eye holes, that'll work,

5. Gotta Have Baby Oil... I keep a lot of baby oil in the truck in case I need to lube up, otherwise 5W-30 or even ten will give you a base. Don't use any of that Dexron shit, it's for your tranny and will turn you red.

6. Flotations... boots float.

7. Umbrella... umbrella's are for pussies so don't use one, if you can't handle the sun for ten hours don't go to the fuckin beach asshole.

8. Where Are The Bathrooms... there ain't no bathrooms at the beach so piss in the fuckin water and you got those old Taco bell wrappers under the seat so you are covered.

9. Whistle... girls at the beach love being whistled at and wanna bang. keep some of that Saran Wrap from your PB and J handy so you can make a condom; never trust beach chicks they will give you VD.

There Is No Ten...

Sunshine State of Mind

Rice Pudding?
Seriously... rice fucking pudding?
Why is this an option as a side dish for my main course?
Why am I the only person in this place excusing himself to use the restroom? I have been here for like three hours and not one of these "geriatric wonders" has left their fucking table... WTF?
Do they not know they have to shit?
Do you think it just kinda happens while they're gumming the steamed fish plate special (Only $2.99 everyday 'til 6:00 PM!) and when they get home to watch "The Price is Right" they bend over to change into their "night slippers" and some falls out of their pant leg and they think the cat shit on the floor again... damn cat!!!
There is much to be said for life experience, but in which life would you wear your toupee backwards? How the fuck would you not know? Do you just glue it on and think "look out ladies here comes Jimmy Stewart" and you don't even notice the sideburns are behind your ears?
Unfortunately I have not yet qualified for the "senior special", I still have teeth, I rarely shit in my own pants and I don't pull U-turns through traffic to head the wrong way during rush hour, but come on Generation Y are you still alive!
This is Florida, a veritable amusement park of Alzheimer's, Parkinson's and Rice Pudding and I suppose when you are so close to that final day trip to Denny's shitting your pants or putting your hairpiece on a bit askew should be praised. In the grand scheme of things you are just going to slip and fall in the tub, breaking your hip and dying because you are so fucking old, but take solace in knowing (and forgetting, then knowing and forgetting all over again) that you are bringing a little extra sunshine to my already really sunny life.

Grocery Shopping

Been watchin me some "Swamp People" fer bout the last 15 minutes an it been remindin me of my day...
Could blue eyeshadow be any hotter?
Bangs... need em!
Bow legged, pant saggin, cool cig smokin strut wif yo 15 year old boo... awesome!!!
Lettin everyone else in the grocery store know that you will " beat dat skank bitch's ass cause she a straight up ho"... necessary!
Representin yo ghetto on yo neck.... and it is a suburb... yep!
Havin cubic zirconia studs in yo six month old's ear lobes... good parentin!!!!
Usin the N word as if you had some color in yo pale ass... typical.
I love me some South side Pick-N-Save... it's the advantage and a whole lot more of what I was lookin for.

I Will Rapture All Over Your Face

Weather.

Webster's (The best 80's sitcom featuring a black midget and that Greek guy that played pro ball. The chick was terrible though, did you ever see the one where "Web" had the doll that was possessed and he kept finding it in his escape dumbwaiter... scary as hell!) Dictionary defines weather as " The shit that really pisses you off about being stuck inside at work or being stuck outside... at work." Today happens to be the latter rather than the former and frankly I blame all of this nonsense on this past weekends failed attempt to rapture all of the believers. It is May for Christ's sake (after all, that is who I do all of this for; the glory of the lord, obviously) and what business does the wind have rattling my single pane windows at this time of year, it's like the mailman showing up at midnight, isn't it a little late to be delivering my overdue doctor bills and Penthouse magazines buddy... well... isn't it? 

It is, so how about you check your schedule (pronounced shedule, I like my c's to be silent) and at least make an attempt to abide by the contract; you know the one where you rain all over me in April and then because you still want to do sex to me you bring me pretty flowers in May thinking that this will solve all of our problems and we will fall back into coital bliss. Wrong! They are just stupid flowers asshole and you have a lot of explaining to do! Never mind your poor timing and ill choice of expression (snow in late April, what's that about?) of care for me. I do know that you are making some sort of attempt; the problem lies herein, I have already prepared my white shoes, v-neck and dungaree shorts (which of course have been rolled up to appear shorter and are tight as hell to accentuate my man bulge) for the upcoming season. Do you have any idea how foolish you are making me look by having to wear my scarf and moon-boots with this ensemble? Well... do you?

Go ahead continue to show up unannounced. Hey it's Tuesday I think I will stop over at Randy's and be 80 degrees, no wait he is at work, sorry. 

Hey what are you doing Thursday? You want to go for a bike ride, cool. 

I forgot, so I'm going to be a tornado and blow down some hillbilly's houses.

Get your shit together you fucking hippy! 

You sucked at rapturing on Saturday, you are months behind on sunshine-bikini-time and I can't ride my bike in this damn wind!

Hey, can you bring Macho Man back? I really want a Slim Jim.

Work Work Work

I have returned!
The past two months have by no means been a sabbatical from the blogosphere, but rather a time of painstaking research and perfection of my other craft... the one that pays the bills. That having been said... lets get on with the awesome.
Work, the scourge of mankind; the draining, exasperating force that bends even the stoutest back. The reaper of youth, thief of time and equalizer of age, the bastard abuser of man. The Irish are prone to delusions of grandeur, fleeting moments of brilliant prose and fanatical loyalty to both family and employer... I am no exception. Many a great Irishman has dashed himself upon the rocks of this unrequited "loyalty" with the hopes of heavenly reward for performing their Catholic duty...  I am no Catholic.
Beer (albeit very good beer, in fact a bottle of Pere Jacques 2010 is being consumed as we speak) has been the catalyst of my written dementia and tonight is no different, so lets get back to kicking ass and banging sluts!
Much better... the work demon has been exercised, Osama Bin Laden has been drowned and some other shit also happened, but I missed all of it, because I was at work. How many hours are in a work week? Eighty or so, right? Seriously all of this working has lined my wallet with green paper and plastic cards, but at what cost? My eternal soul... no, because I traded that for a Snickers bar when I was Seven (stupid Cam Knoble that was when Snickers Bars were full sized... idiot.). Peace of mind... wrong, I learned a long time ago that there ain't no  rest for the wicked so I ain't felt guilt in years. It all boils down to two things, beer and sleep; I have been missing out on sleep and pounding awesome fucking beers in my man chair!! That being said the time has arrived to finish off this bottle of wonder elixir and join the rest of you in the slumber of decadence.
Good Night.

Stupid Fat Kid Made Me Spill My Cappuccino

I don't feel like writing today, but because I love you and your sweet moves I will press on like Lee and those damn sexy nails.

This weather has brought my spirits tumbling back to Earth and is preventing me from releasing my bad ass mind juice all over your faces. Speaking of juice I am on a new tomato juice kick, it's kinda old school (I know how you kids love that V-8), but it seems as if downing cans of this red stuff has increased my manliness ratio by about 17.76665%. 

I am not sure if there is a scientific method that can test this; so when I go to the gym tonight, gonna do a set (loudly, the grunting releases more testosterone), tell the guy benching how awesome I am, then climb on a treadmill next to a chick with no headphones and tell her about my workout. You can score the most tail by talking to women on treadmills... they love when men approach them at the gym during a hard workout, proven fact, check craigslist.

I'm pretty sure bench-guy will leave from the shame of being a stupid pussy and tread-girl will meet me in the locker room for doing it. This will definitely prove that my methods are sound.

It's just one of those days, not even the ugly fat kid (who of course has food smeared on his jowels and is struggling for air) tethered to his disgusting mother can illicit a smile... and fatties crack me up?

The annoying Italians speaking Spanish or whatever are just irritating today and seriously do they always have to talk about pasta or gold?

What the fuck is happening to me? Maybe I need a recharge or...

DAMMIT I JUST SPILLED MY FUCKING CAPPUCCINO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Women Can Finally Contribute To Society

If comic books have taught us anything (which they have), its that exposure to nuclear radiation will turn you into a superhero. Could this be so bad? Sure Japan will soon be crawling with dudes who's limbs can stretch like silly putty and women stronger than dung beetles (currently women are exceedingly weak, this will create a legion of "super women" who can actually carry groceries, open car doors and buy their own drinks), but we as Americans have nothing to fear from these new Japanese "Super-Amigos." There is absolutely no way they could have any animosity towards the good ole US of A. Where would this race of nuclear humanoids be without our assistance and guidance (helping since back in 45, you are most welcome sir)? Sure it will be a tad bit unnerving the first time some diminutive, tourist from the land of the rising sun stretches upward for a "picture picture" of the Empire State Building; and yes the first time a woman is seen carrying her own luggage up the stairs of her first floor apartment the nearest gentleman may drop dead from a massive heart attack/brain aneurysm combo, but who is going to complain about women finally contributing to society? Soon these "ultra-dames" will be solving math problems at a 5th grade level and men will be balancing the checkbook in the kitchen while taking care of business in the lavatory.
This nuclear age is finally coming to fruition and it is about time we started to use radiation for more than curing cancer. I for one am looking forward to having doors opened for me and my new super lady picking up the check.

Spring Break in Libya Sounds Nice

Dear Great American Satan,

 Spring Break 2011 is finally here and in todays down-turned economy American college students are looking for alternative vaca' destinations. Now I know Jamaica in all of its dread-locked, ganja smoking glory seems like a feasible and fiscally responsible option, but it is a proven fact that you will get robbed and murdered by some thrill seeking Dutch kid, so put that on the back burner for now.

Panama City Beach in Florida is nice... if you want to get the clap. 

The Gulf Coast of Texas has water, but for christ's sake it is Texas. If you want to drink Lone Star with big truck driving, cowboy hat wearing rednecks, you can just go to the family reunion in July; why waste your one week of freedom on familiarity?

I have heard that Lake Havasu is pretty popular... with the British. Screw that, unless you are the kind of guy who forgets to brush on a regular basis and gets buck wild on tea and crumpets? Grab the chess board and the SPF 50 Reginald,  'cause break is gonna be off the chain son!

As you can see none of these places are going to be any fun at all; if you don't get VD, you will get raped by Deliverance ( I hope you got a purty mouth) or hacked up and fed to some Rastafarian's pigs!
You need to consider a new option, a different option... a sexy option.

There is a place where the white sand beaches stretch off beyond the horizon. A place where you can wade into the warm blue waters or smoke a huka with men of international intrigue. A place virtually unchanged by time, a place where the sun shines 365 days a year and when it rains you are showered with pure black gold! 

Come for the sun, come for the fun... come to Libya.

This message has been furnished by the Libyan National Tourism Council, praise be to Allah!!

Die Americans Die... and the British too.

Charlie Sheen Will Save Us... Again

I don' know which is worse, Godzilla trashing Japan again or our number one super hero Charlie Sheen being denied his due.
How many times has he saved us from disaster? A million? At least that many.
How can we expect him to use his warlock powers of flying and fucking to defeat Godzilla when he is all pissed off? We owe him a bunch of whatever he needs to get himself prepared to due super monster battle with the beast and I for one am ready to chip in. I have already purchased a couple eight balls of blow and hired an ex-stripper named Ginger to help him train for this conflict.
Please people, don't let Godzilla do to us what he has done to Japan.
Send a self addressed, stamped envelope full of awesome white stuff and money to Charlie Sheen, we may not get a second chance.
Unlike you guys, I am one of his good friends and don't have his address on me, but just send that shit to California and they will get it to him at his secret fortress of power.

Stop Loud Talking Please

Sometimes I wonder why I spend so much time in coffee shops?

Oh sure there is a sweet six foot five tranny in chiffon and glitter. A man child violently rocking back and forth to his own imaginary beat and of course the loud talkers in the corner. I for one would like to ram my right leg down their stupid-ass gape holes, just to give the rest of us a moment of silent bliss. Is that really to much to ask? Is there any reason at all that I should be privy to your life affirming conversation taking place forty feet across this once heavenly reading room? Yes, I am listening to you. Yes, you are a complete fucking moron. Yes, I am making fun of you. Dammit! We just made eye contact, which is obviously a form of encouragement because I have now been acknowledged numerous times with that side glance and escalated volume. Fuck me!

There are way more important things going on in this imploding world of ours; like Gallagher having a fucking stroke! Dude, jumping around on a big couch and smashing water melons can never get old in my humble opinion, but how can the Gaghs swing that mallet if he is all stroked out and shit? That won't be funny at all, unless he is side talking (like Kirk Douglas) and trying to pick that bludgeon up with his palsied hand and he can't but just keeps on struggling to show what a warrior he is and then his two assistants come out and one helps him hold the smasher while the other one throws the watermelon at it repeatedly... now that would be funny.

Oh, yeah some shit blew up, buses crashed, God punished the Japanese for Pokemon and a bunch of people died, but those damn loud talkers side tracked me again.

Charlie Sheen

So I have been kinda gettin' off track lately with all this political shit, but I have finally decided to sit down in my "big boy man chair," drink some brew and get back to business. I apologize for beating your minds off with my finger words, but you know you wanted it and besides it's not cheating if our eyes never met.
March is here and as they say "in like a thing and out like a thing that gets stalked and killed by the first thing"... which is total bullshit!
I don't know anything about weather, but I do know if anything came "in like a lion" there wouldn't be anything left to go "out like a lamb" so get a new saying... I think I'm gonna boycott these bitches.
All this time not boozing it up and sharing my awesome with you, has left a serious hole in my blood pumper zone; so it may take some practice to get back after it, but I am really good at word doing so deal with it.
Now, has anyone been following this Charles Sheen situation? All I know is this dude is a warlock and has tiger blood in those veins so do not fuck with him! I repeat do not fuck with him! Those cat blood transfusions hurt like a bitch (I should know, I tried it once while I was in college... I was just experimenting... I needed the money, trust me... it got a little weird), give you I.B.S. and do not turn your lead into gold, even though you tried really hard and asked Merlin for advice.
Smoking crack is pretty cool and all, but... wait a sec, goddammit Charlie Sheen stop possessing me!
I know it looks bad for Chuck and his rantings seem like the ravings of an unstable megalomaniac, but its just a big ass, butt fucking conspiracy. Chaz is right and the rest of the world is wrong; so fuck you 2.5 dudes (I watched one of those and I think the little kid is the other whole and the guy who played "Ducky' is the half, because he totally sucks balls), who needs you anyway!?
Something like this happened once before if I recall... his name was Jesus and he was persecuted and cruxified (yes, cruxified, it hurts more), then some dudes wrote a bestseller about the guy and look who feels guilty now.
Charlie Sheen, you should be my dad... or, nope... you should definitely be my dad!

Bucky "The Governor" Badger Is Actually A Man?

People please! 

When you allow a badger to be elected to our State's highest office (auto-fasci-badgernor) what the hell did you expect to happen? 

To those of us from the Milwaukee metro area we expected nothing less than a gutting of all public concerns and support as well as four more years of staring at his ugly den digging face, but it's a wee bit late for that now.

I implore all of you to conduct an in depth side by side photographic comparison of our "Dear Governor" and our ferocious state repping mammal. 

Scary isn't it? 

Read the physical stats and you will be astonished; it would not be surprising to discover that his mother was having "relations" with many furry little forest creatures in the wilds of Colorado (it was the sixties, investigative journalists we are looking at you... get on it!).

To be fair I would rather be trapped deep within a badger's den than spend ten minutes locked in a room with Bucky, but since neither is likely to happen any time soon... 

Wisconsin is deeply divided and the only solution may be to secede from the Union and battle this shit out amongst ourselves. 

This war of ideologies will not have a happy ending for either party or the State of Wisconsin, but clearly no one gives a shit about the long term effects of this battle. Changes do need to be made, but the gutting of social assistance has never been the correct solution to budgetary concerns (aka Milwaukee County, thank you Mr. Walker.. dick head) but protesting does not have positive monetary influence on the outcome of policy (historically documented and verifiable).

Do not misunderstand me I find the Democratic Party as equally deplorable as the Republican, but much like our current President the new Governor has been given a license to "free-wheel" with our money and lives and frankly it disgusts me.

Checks and balances, if I am not mistaken, does not mean the ledger of our State's checkbook... does it?

Fellow citizens we are definitely going to take it in the ass on this one, but once I have finished this toaster/time machine I have been working on we should be able to quantumly "leap" Scott Bakula to 1967. With a little luck he can prevent Ole Bucky's mother from having sex with animals all together or get a cheap abortion in some back alley of Colorado Springs, either way...

Political Wisdoms from '56

Politics, politics, politics. I am so unbelievably tired of discussing the political state of our world that I am this close (squeezing fingers together to the size of a pin, which is rather small, so back the fuck off Antonio!!!) to going on a full blown, karate, revenge spree on all who cross my incensed path. People on either side of these issues are complete butt-fucks and I don't really care what statistics or opinions are indicating. You assholes are interfering with my work, which was saving the world, but you fucked that up... congratulations to you!

Ohh Scott Walker parts his hair on the right. Ooh Local 269 members have beer guts, eat hot dogs for breakfast and smell like poo. I am going to collectively bargain the shit out of all of you; so shut the fuck up and listen to some wisdom from the fifties. That's right, post McCarthy "The Fifties" a simpler time. A time when men just wanted to drag race their Ford T-Birds and women wanted to make babies and get a new avocado colored stove from Sears. 

So I am going to drop some of these "wisdoms" taken from a class of '56 yearbook on your listening tubes and you will like it... 'cause I said so!

"I like a girl with a good head on my shoulder." - Dan H. 

Now that is some straight up fifties pimpin'! Back when a gallon of gas was a quarter and wearing a letter jacket was all you needed to get a good union job. Sad to say that it is an era gone bye; last I checked gas was $3.50...

"Shit in one hand and wish in the other, see which fills up first." - Mike S. 

I have a feeling young Michael wasn't waiting around for someone to just hand him anything; maybe some of these malcontents should try getting their fingers a little dirty with an honest days work and a little less bitching. 

I actually tried this and who'd a thunk, it took forever for the wish side to get full?

"I haven't let a woman pin anything on me since I was a baby." - Dick M. 

Wow is all I can say to that. What a surprise; this guy took over the successful family business and became extremely influential in his local political scene. Kind of have to wonder what little "Dicky" was so worried about back in '56? Do you think he might be a conservative?

"Books are my meat, who wants tomatoes?" - Steve F. 

I have no clue what the fuck this nerd was talking about, but apparently he didn't eat enough tomatoes and died of a massive heart attack back in the '90's. Goes to show that high protein diets are deadly and anyone who thinks they can waste taxpayer's money will certainly die at some point in the future; probably from heart failure or maybe cancer.

"Guests are like fish, after three days they start to stink!" - Carolyn S.

If you lay around somewhere for three days where you may or may not be welcome, you develop a type of pathetic funk? That doesn't happen to those who set up camp in public buildings... does it? No, because they are showered in the sweat of righteousness and justice.

See the fifties were pretty cool.

Say Yes to Prop 48

Yeah the whole world is going to shit as we speak, but whatever man there is still time to fuck shit up... I think?

Earthquakes, Icebergs, Qadaffi's oh my! I'd click my heels together a couple of times and say "there's no place like home" and get the fuck out of Dodge, but I blew my knee to shit so there goes the heel clickin' part and I can think of about a million places to be that are better than my dump-ass apartment so... blah.
If I was still bi-pedal I would hit the mean streets and run some vigilante missions in my neighborhood. There would be all kinda sweet kicks and chops and purse nabbin' goin' down cause I'd be a reverse vigilante, like Death Wish (I love that fuckin' guy).
They wouldn't even need union-busters to get those unruly teachers back in line. I would just stroll over to Madison with my bear sidekick "Bear", and maul the shit out of those bitches. Then when the governor was shaking my hand and about to give us our medals for fuckin' shit up (like Luke and Han in "The Star Wars") we would turn on him and kick the crap out of his buck toothed ass just to prove that you should never trust a bear (did anyone see that Yogi Bear movie? Who the hell green-lighted that pile of shit?) or an Irishman with two legs... when it comes to affairs of the state.
Thankfully I have been dealt a crippling blow that has rendered me impotent of leg powers (my D still works I think so if anybody wants to stop by and do sex on me I'll be up for a bit) and with Lindsay Lohan going back for another round in butch town America doesn't need my super powers of doin' awesome stuff.

What does "Say Yes to Prop 48" mean? Don't know but you just read this crap so it musta sounded important 'n' shit.

Lil' Scotty Walker Is A Dick

Oh hello there. I didn't see you sitting directly behind me holding that large knife between my shoulder blades. Well thank you. I hadn't noticed the spider crawling down my back, what would I have done without you? Thanks man you really are a good friend, but was it entirely necessary to stab that spider?
It feels like I am losing a good amount of blood that I was planning on using later, for you know... living.
No! I am not accusing you of anything, just merely inquiring as to why you continue to plunge that knife into my backside... are there more spiders?
Oh okay thank you.
Yeah I'm alright, just getting sleepy.
Where did this pool come from; did you spill the kool-aid? I will nap here for a bit.
Were there really any spiders?
Didn't think so.
Are you still mad at me for disagreeing with you?
Yeah, sorry about that dude; one more thing before I go... You have an ugly face.
Thanks for stabbing me in the back, Lil' Scotty Walker you are a dick!!
I hope when you grow up you can become Governor of a state you move to, but only after you drop out of college, bankrupt a county and do a bunch of rapings and shit.
Well since I have lost the majority of the blood that I was gonna use I should probably die now.

I Don't Even Know What I Am Rambling About?

I hate when I don't feel like writing. It's like a fisherman not wanting to fish or a porn star not wanting to gobble down several feet of fluffed cock, but this is where I find myself. All of my efforts have been focused upon an athletic endeavor and being the wondrous creature I am can only focus on this singular feat. Drinking has taken a backseat, banging... backseat and caring has also found itself tossed into the abyss of empty Starbucks receptacles and gym shoes formerly known as "the backseat". Next week I hope to find myself knee deep in Gin-tacular idiocy and forgotten moments of grandiose proportions or at least just really drunk with my pants around my ankles (don't you hate cankles... fuckin' gross!). Even though sleep once again has begun to elude me, I will not allow the temptations of  scrumtrulescent chocolate chip cookies or.... Ok fuck all this, behaving myself is complete shit! You know what else sucks a big fat dick? Watching a fat bald dude cruise around Chicago stuffing his ass looking face and making coitus related sounds every time he takes a bite of a sheep's brain or freeze dried whatever the fuck that was. I would turn the channel, but Larry The Cable Guy is telling me what happens "Only In America" on the History Channel and the plastic princess is waxing idiotic over on E. All I really want to do right now is jam pizza down my craw, drink some brew and bury my face in something feminine, but instead I punish myself with mind numbing television and the dream of worldly pleasures that are temporarily out of reach.

Idol Spoiler Alert!!!

I have really been slacking lately and I just feel horrible about it! I know you have all been waiting with baited breath (Do you think that was a literal terminology at one point? Like some dumb-ass medieval serf's job was to tie wax worms to his fucking tongue and dunk his head into the lake and wait for some tasty perch to swim by? I bet it was, those people were complete idiots.) for me to deliver the message that has been passed unto me from The Great One Above (Jeff Goldblum).
Jeff wants you guys to know that all is going according to plan in Egypt and a new Pharaoh shall ascend the temple throne in the immediate future. He is really looking forward to setting up this new dynasty and wants all you guys to jump on board, so start tweeting!
Jeff says the new season of Idol is going to be a major tear jerker with about four or five Danny Gokey's to root for. Spoiler alert!!! All of the those impossibly pathetic makeover cases with the heavenly voices that magically appear from the underbelly of America every time a new season begins are just that! Angels, they are god-damn angels! I was just as surprised as you are, but it makes sense.
Jeff is adamant that we don't get overly concerned for Deion Sanders in his time of need. He says Deion is like the biblical character Job and He is testing his faith by relieving him of his worldly possessions. It may seem a little harsh, but this is how He shows us His love, by taking stuff away from black people.
2011 is going to be a great year and Jeff wants you guys to live it up since He will be destroying much of the planet next year. How the signs were ignored still perplexes me, he gave us life saving guidance in such picture stories as: The Fly, Jurassic Park, Independence Day and his numerous recurring television roles as the exceptionally smart nerd who figures shit out.
Jeff does love you and wants you to keep enjoying the musical stylings of Justin Bieber (His Son, illegitimate though so no worries, his other son, Usher is the one who will save us.), Taylor Swift and all that other crap you kids listen too (Jeff's words not mine, I love this Nicky Minaj person... great talent.). That is pretty much it for now; I did try to find out if The Social Network was going to win every Oscar since it was such an amazing film and JT's acting was unreal, but he just giggled, kept sipping his latte and whispered " Internet, I'd say internet" seriously, WTF?

Report: Blizzard 2011

Hello friends, my that was some blizzard last evening was it not?
Lets have sharing time now. This is how it works, I will regale you with tales from last nights sojourn into the white death and you will enjoy it or get beat up for being an idiot.
First some advice for those of you who even though television and radio had given dedicated coverage to the Noreaster for about twenty four hours or so, still had no clue that the storm of the century was approaching.
Example: Guy with fogged up glasses driving the '88 Ford Handi-Van, rust bucket that I pushed out of the snow...
Maybe the fogged up Coke bottle specs and dirty Packers jacket with matching cap (it's called a washing machine... idiot) should have been an indicator that you were a Faulknerian man-child; or the toothless, mouth agape, blank ass stare when I asked you to "please back up" so myself and the other good Samaritans could assist in dislodging your piece of shit could have been a clue. It may have even been when instead of backing up you just scratched your head and kept on gunning it, which clearly had worked so well to that point. I'm sure you had to get somewhere important (like the shower) or had a speech on string theory to deliver at the University, because you dashed off into the night without saying thank you or even turning on your headlights. Next time there is a blizzard of epic proportions on the horizon do all of us a favor and forget where you placed the keys to the land-boat or just kill your fucking self because you suck. Dinner was nearly ruined, my shoes got all wet and beer was spilled all on account of you.
Example: Kids with no coats walking down the middle of the snowy street rapping...
Hmm, this was obviously a well thought out plan and your rhymes were amazing!. It was rather enjoyable watching you nearly get run over a dozen times while struggling to keep your damn pants up, it was clearly the motorists' fault for  practically ending your valuable existence (you guys may be the next G-Unit)) when you stopped to holla at your boy. I also realized how tough you are when that truck had to stop because you were in rap-zone while not attempting to cross the street and you called the Caucasian driver a "Nigga" and shot at him with your two finger gun. When you plan your next venture into snow-town make sure you don't wear a belt, or any winter gear of any sort and promise me you will have more slick rhymes to shout while walking down the middle of the road and one more thing... remember to go fuck yourselves because you suck. Someone should have hit all of you just to teach your parents a lesson.
This blizzard may have been hazardous to some, but it is bringing out the best in me. Now it is your turn to share.

And Like A Good Neighbor...

And like a good neighbor State Farm is there!
Where State Farm, where exactly would that be? Have you seen my neighbors? I got underwear guy eating Cheerios in bed every night over to the left of me and crazy fucking cat lady stinking up the block just to the right. They don't bother me so does that make them good neighbors? Are you that good State Farm? I definitely don't want pee-stain panty man bringing me a sandwich and when I lent the feline queen some olive oil I told her to just keep the bottle to avoid getting cat shit all over my house when she returned it. When I sing the State Farm jingle while taking a shit are you going to wipe my ass for me? Well, are you? State Farm you almost had me, because your commercials were slightly less annoying than those damn Geicko commercials with the squeeling pig and the woodchucks, but the singing hipster kids? Come on... who are you fooling? At least Nationwide has the awesome phone guy. You should probably try to pry Jersey Shore Ronnie away from his good friends at Xenadrine, because he is an awesome spokesman and reads at a 9th grade level. If you were actually committed to your customers you would have at least had the decency to hire the Kardashian sisters to plug your shitty product. The level of respect that you have for us would have come shining on through with Kim's talent-less fat ass rumbling in my face and one of the other fucking morons following her around like a lost child. State Farm if you want to be a good neighbor maybe you should mind your own business and stay out of my goddamn living room.

A Little Shout Out To My Homey Barack

I like giving shout outs to my homies running this here little country we call "The America"; so thanks big B.O. for dropping some knowledge bombs on that stupid Chinese guy last week. I don't trust him in the least, but you showed him with your mastery of diplomacy and that award winning side smile (I love when you do that on T.V. I definitely trust you). You should have challenged him to some b-ball, you guys could have played two on two; he could have Yao Ming and you could team up with LeBron (America loves that guy). It would be a tough game, but it would definitely teach him a few things about human rights violations and pollution... USA... USA!
Hey Oprah, first of all you are possibly the greatest first lady ever (just wanted to get that outta the way). Finding your long lost half-sister is a major triumph. Where was she? In the woods by the shed? Behind the sofa in the living room? I always found my brother in the laundry room hiding in a hamper (not very original I know, but he was only six). Hide and seek is so much fun.
Illinois; I should probably move to your wonderfully flat state, the way you raised taxes nearly 66% for residents  makes Canada proud and who doesn't like Canadians? They are some seriously funny mofos, Norm McDonald,  Jon Candy and the rest of Saturday Night Live... awesome! I can only hope that my state takes similar action against the virulent scourge known as taxpayers, we need to be taught a lesson for working hard and living within our borders.
Is it just me or is Illinois running this shit?  It's probably just me, I get distracted with conspiracy theories every now and again, so please ignore that last statement.

I am Renegade

This is a copy of a letter that Lorenzo Lamas wrote to his deceased wife shortly after a documentary crew began to follow him around in the Fall of '92.
September 19th 1992
Baby,
"I was a cop, and good at my job. But I committed the ultimate sin, and testified against other cops gone bad. Cops that tried to kill me, but got the woman I loved instead. Framed for murder, now I prowl the badlands. An outlaw hunting outlaws, a bounty hunter, a Renegade." Thats right, I am Renegade and I will avenge your death. Me, Bobby Sixkiller and his hot sister Cheyenne, who I totally plan on banging (hold on a sec I need to take my shirt off and pour some water over my head in slo-mo 'cause I been heatin' up out here in the badlands of the West). I have been growing my hair out so I can pull it back into a pony tail for doing karate fighting in bars. I also have started wearing cowboy boots as part of my disguise and they make my roundhouse kick ten times more deadly than in my old cop shoes. I miss you so much that I will think about you when I am doing sex to Cheyenne from behind. Remember when I had short hair and laid by the pool at the Falcon Crest? That was pretty cool, but I have become Renegade for at least five more years and after that I don't really plan on doing much. Sometimes when I am rescuing Bobby Sixkiller from the guys whose karate is not as good as mine I imagine myself doing it with some Playmates, that would be sweet, but not 'til I solve your murder, clear my name and do a spinning jump kick to this biker's head in my duster (he couldn't see it comin cause the duster is like a cloak and I don't wear a shirt under it; it's made of leather). When I was in the Special Forces before I was a cop I learned how to blend into my environment so don't worry about me, I just look like a renegade and I sorta am, but only for fake. I miss you baby and all of the tang that I must hit in order to solve your murder and bring Dixon to justice is my way of living, I know that is what you would want.
Love,
Renegade
P.S. I put the Harley on your credit card, but I promise to pay it off after I clear my name.
P.P.S. Hey, if you see my mom up there can you tell her to tell Bobby Sixkiller's mom he is sorry about crashing the Winnebago, we were being chased and it does not make a good getaway vehicle and Bobby can't drive for shit anyhow.

The Age of Sagittarius?

A few days ago the world that I have existed within came crashing to an unexpected and abrupt end. Thirty three years lived upon the razor's edge, somehow avoiding the inevitable that "Old Bill Ockham" eluded to for centuries had found me; let the life force flow. The cut is deep my friends and no amount of pressure may stem the blood tide. All that was "I Capricorn" flows upon the muddied ground, gathering in a crimson pool of loss. No regret nor penance for my transgressions may alter this dubious new endeavor, for the choice has been made by the galactic. I know not how to repair this chasm or traverse the treacherous depths of inexperience forced upon my weighted shoulders. Reason has fallen to madness and I alone must crawl through the carnage of the "Capricorn Holocaust" to find the paths that Sagittarius has wandered upon.
VALor alone does not guide me, but the experience of those who have passed before me shall assist in this unholy endeavor (VALhalla be warned). The shifting of planetary motion has affected the existence of the rider, but the reigns have fallen to the hands of a willing master. I shall take the lead and explore this world with my new horsen half, for Sagittarius have I become; and no trail shall be rough to wander.

Twilight Is BullShit

So many great things to write about lately: new governor, politicians getting shot, war in the Middle East, the list could go on for at least a paragraph or two, but I am congested as shit so that is all that matters.
All of the brilliance that is me has been blown into so many dirty Kleenex that I don't know if I will ever recoup.
Thoughts begin to percolate to the surface then the ears become unbearably plugged... time to eject... now what was I doing?
Here comes a new idea... almost have it...
Why is that chubby goth kid wearing a tail?
Train of thought interrupted, hate teenagers... shit!
Dammit can't focus, Nyquil kicking in, must fight the darkness... there is evil in there.
Seriously why is that mastodon wearing a coyote tail?
What is with these kids?
Maybe it's a wolf's tail and she thinks she is a werewolf or something?
Even the homeless dude hacking up a lung in the corner thinks this kid is a jackass.
I wonder if she hangs out with vampire kids? Vampires and werewolves?
They should start dressing like zombies at least that would be believable.
I could take her in a fight.
Man kids are really fucked up, when I was growing up, I just wanted to play baseball or be a garbage man (the garbage dude was having a blast and I imagined him living in a cool junkyard house made of junk, surrounded by all those sweet perpetual motion machines from eighties movies and he had two bad-ass guard dogs that attacked on command and a laser gun... he definitely had a laser gun.)
Teenagers destroyed my day again; don't they go to school anymore?
I forgot they "home-school" now, so as to avoid bullies...  fuckin' pussies.

Thirty Four... You Sure Are Sexy!

Hello and welcome to my 34th year.

Once again I have waded through the turbulent waters that were the past year of my life and emerged on the other shore, two fists a pumping (fist pumping as well as fist bumping means you are a big success so you should do it as much as I do... which is a lot)! The past few days were the most harrowing as my 33rd year had a death grip on my throat and had to be bludgeoned into submission (Thank you Bombay Sapphire, just like the guy in that movie I like, you came out of nowhere to rescue me and I thought you died about 15 minutes before that when you had stayed behind so that I could escape and then there was that huge explosion, how did you survive? We'll talk about it later... good looking out though). This coming year is sure to be full of the greatness that you have come to expect from me, but unlike years past we are just going to wing it this time around. No more grand schemes of getting blasted and kicking the crap out of the homeless or jumping the "General Lee" over the creek by my parent's house that has the bridge that is "unexpectedly" out. In this 34th effort we are going with the flow and expecting positive results. There is no longer need to calculate the proper booze/blood ratio (last year it was an exact scientific formula with predictable results, you were used as my control group and had been administered a placebo cocktail... why were you acting drunk; was it to fit in?) to operate under during this year's experiment, but that is all part of "Adventure #34", as will be heretofore dubbed.

In 2011-34 (that is the proper way to write it now) know that I will not let you down, all of my experiences will be our experiences, no stone will be left unturned and no child will be left behind (except that stupid fat kid who missed the fucking bus again, he only lives a block away, but... stop eating so many cheetos fatty!). The year of domination has begun! Join me, spread the knowledge and so on and so forth. If you are a sexy lady... sleep with me! If you are a big tough guy... let me knock you out! If you can't read... fake it!

Who has two thumbs and is totally awesome? This guy!

Where Are Your Damn Pants?

This is to be read in your best hillbilly accent. You should also drink some moonshine to improve performance and comprehension.

Hey, ya'll ain't got no pants on dummy!
I know an I ain't fittin ta put no dam pants on so jest geet back to what ya was doin!
But it's cold as a possum's teet an that jest don't make no sense?
Well ya see now, it's nearly my birfday an it ain't yours, so you can jest shut the fuck up til then!
Alright then, if that's how yous gonna be then I ain't given you no present.
You best be handin' any presents over right quick so's I don't get to worked up.
Thanks! Goddammit these here are my own pants asshole an I told you I weren't wearin' no pants today, can you hand me my shotgun over there?
Now who's the dummy?

The moral of this little anecdote is... universal healthcare is not an actual fix to the problems facing America today, it is really more like a patch in the crotch of your jeans that you have to keep replacing and it is getting damn expensive, but you keep holding on to them because they are your fave and you have so many memories together.
I love you Hurley blue jeans and I will never let you go, but I will not wear you today.

Oh Snookie You So Crazy Girl

Snookie has a book! This is such great news, she has struggled so long and is such a talent we are all really proud of her this proves that she is not only good at being fat, tan and Italian (which are all accomplishments in and of themselves), but she has a vivid imagination as this is a work of fiction. The coolest part of this is that she can now join the rank of those eponymous best selling authors Nicole Richie and Tommy Lee; it is about time these tabloid stars were given their due. I think I will go to Borders and try to latch on to a copy before it sells out. I can only imagine the tales she has envisioned of spending a Summer on the shores of New Jersey with her wild friends. Here's to you snook (raising my mug of espresso and staring off into the distance with a twinkle in my eye and grin of satisfaction on my face)!

Wait a minute.

What?

She didn't write it?
That is bullshit man, you are just jealous of her beauty and genius anyone who can swing their chubby little arms in violence like that most assuredly can operate a keyboard!
C-O-L-L-A-B-O-R-A-T-I-O-N?
You are so full of it, I am sick of all your fucking bullshit; are you going to try and tell me that W didn't write his masterpiece either?
I love you Snookie and will defend your honor. Maybe someday we could collaborate on making some short, alcoholic, bulimic, midget people? 

P.S. I am going to start working on my tan and my pump for you, I also bought some gel for my hair and am changing my name to Giacomo to be more Italian for our lovemaking.

Shiny Objects Are Best Left Alone

Hello I am a squirrel, this tree is nice, I like to jump. Here come some people, uh oh which way to go I will go up and hide on the other side of this tree. This tree is also nice. Is that a nut over there? I am getting very fat, that is a far jump. That is a nice shiny I will go in for a closer look. Here comes a dog I think he is barking at me, yes he is, I will dodge him by running across this busy street. There sure are a lot of cars today, I will go left, no right, I mean left, wait right, maybe I should jump? Nope that one almost got me, but I am too quick today. Oh this is shiny, I will take it with me, that is a nice tree over there, I will take my shiny to that tree. Here comes another car I will outrun this one. It turned, but I thought i saw a bu...

An Irishman's Lament

And the good Lord bent down and whispered into Seamus's ear and said "drink a bunch of this heavenly brew and go forth and do sex to stuff that is in your way." - Jon 3:16 part 2

I truly enjoy beer, I am talking near worship son! I wasn't even going to have one or four tonight, but what the hell it's a brand new year and I am a champion in the sport of consuming "the gods' wonder." Somehow my nearly thirty four year old body is still managing to break it all down and keep me operating in peak physical condition, but that is the price (it's close to a million bucks) I pay for being perfectly Irish. It is also apparent that my bod is impervious to whiskey, but nothing compares to a good brew and besides we all know what happens when an Irishman drinks whiskey (saves the world with his quill and ink of course, but I am far too narcissistic for that so... let it burn!). Speaking of being Irish, it has come to my attention that nearly all of my compadres (that is a Mexican word) are Irish. At first I was rather taken aback and pondered if this makes me some sort of deviant (that turned out to just be the sex stuff) or ethni-phobe, but then I realized that the deep seeded fear of the non-Irish is what makes me ethnically challenged not my Irish only peer group. Even my brown skinded homies have Irish last names or have been dubbed with Mick nicknames that at least sound as if they are from the Isle of Erin (like T-Bone or Lil' Belfast or something like that; that's a lie (sorry) I don't have any "less than pale" friends except Marcos, Greeley and Biju, but they can read so no big deal). This being Irish shit can sometimes be a burden, because you can never turn it off. The expectations of being handsome, witty, intelligent, a total bad-ass and havin' sweet dance moves are not to be taken lightly. Sometimes I wonder how simple it must be to just be an ugly Englishman (everyone hates those pansies, nice teeth idiots) or a dumbass,stink-butt Frenchy (yeah... enough said)? I am not complaining (How could I?), but more like sharing "The Knowledge" with you of how it 'aint easy being awesome all the time. Truth be told, it's the beer that keeps me on an even pace with the rest of human kind. I have solved many a mystery while partaking, but alas they have all been forgotten in a bleary haze or were too smeared with blood to be legible and mankind will continue to struggle on.

Viva Ireland!!