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!!