Thursday, May 31, 2012

Please Don't Shit In The Pool

Welcome to our ool. You will notice there is no shit in it. Please help us keep it that way.

Due to recent tightening of government restrictions on public facility cleanliness, we must ask that you no longer defecate in the swimming pool; instead, please make use of one of our two "toilets" that are available in the locker room area. We understand that this may seem like an unreasonable request.

If it were up to us, you could shit just about anywhere you liked, within the walls of this institution. To us, the managerial staff, it harkens back to a time of the "Old New York City" of the 70s and 80s.

Things were a lot better then, in our opinion - no yuppies wandering around with golden retrievers, an "authentic" "urban" feel of "real danger" that was present anytime you were outside. Shit was king. But, sadly, those days are gone. Gentrification, and its resultant scrutiny of Our Neighborhoods by government health and safety officials, has arrived.

Time was, you could drop your trunks at the edge of the pool and shit right on someone's head while they were swimming. Of course, most people swam with weapons on their person in those days, so you ran the risk of being stabbed or shot. But whatever happened to being able to just take a dump in the pool, then hopping in and maybe sliding a knife between someone's ribs before busting out some breaststroke?

In any event, we further and totally apologize for any potential inconvenience. We understand if you want to hurt us - the staff of this facility - personally. This is a natural reaction to such a restrictive government clampdown. We submit that it would not be out of order in this situation to murder one or two staff members when you come down to the pool next time. Totally understandable.

Also, Adult Coed Lap Swim will be canceled this Thursday.



Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Nightmare Journal Part 1 of ????

Here's the nightmare I had last night. Gonna start writing these up whenever I have them.


You are in a sprawling 1-floor apartment, trying to hang out with someone and play a board game in an unused room. You notice a set of wooden stairs, going down, in the corner of the room. Looking over the edge, you see that the stairs descend for hundreds of feet, crisscrossing with landings every ten steps or so. There is someone/thing coming up the stairs.

The thing is human-looking but is not human. It moves stiffly and its jaw is fixed open, its eyes white. It is male, wears work clothes and has a short haircut. You run with your friend to a living room where a couple of other people are hanging out - one female, one child. The thing jerkily pursues you, grabbing and lunging. Looking for an axe or something to kill it with, all you can find is a butcher knife. You make do; you chop repeatedly at the thing's neck and open a ragged hole, but no blood comes out, all you see is dark reddish-purple meat. It groans and collapses, but won't stop moving or grasping at everyone. It needs to be completely dismembered.

Everyone helps, and the thing is finally cut into many pieces, but the pieces still won't stop moving. Someone has trimmed off the thing's fingernails, and when you go to collect them, they dig into your hand. The thing needs to be completely destroyed. You gather the pieces and take them in the kitchen, and dump them in the blender. There is no liquid aspect to this thing at all - grinding up its parts yields a crimson sawdust.

The child is helping you with carrying parts into the kitchen and dumping out the blender. Both of you are covered in the dusty remains, and as the child is walking toward you with an armload of limbs, it begins speaking in a man's voice. It says "I cannot be killed by grinding." The child has become infected by the dust; its eyes turn white as particles enter its bloodstream.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

This Weekend - MIB3, and Rorshach/Converge/Indecision/Xaddax

This blog is starting to be about me revisiting stuff I was into 14 years ago, and seeing how it all holds up. That's fine with me I guess. I really liked Men In Black, which came out in 1997 (the year I graduated high school), and was really into Converge from about 1998-2001 or so. Well, I should qualify those statements - I didn't like MIB 2, and I didn't like Converge's When Forever Comes Crashing (I might like it now; at the time I thought there like wasn't enough snare drum or something). So I'm not the hugest fan. Not a huge fan. There are huger fans than me.

I went to see MIB3 in an actual movie theater, paid actual money that I don't have, to see it (paying money to see movies is becoming more and more anathema to me). I wasn't disappointed, and I got to be that annoying guy who is always pointing out when his neighborhood appears in a movie (the diner is really close to where I live; in fact, it had been closed for a while, and I walked by it one night and it appeared to be suddenly open for business, and I walked in, and stood there for a minute waiting for a table or whatever, until a guy with a headset came up from behind the counter and informed me that it was a set [for MIB3], and I should leave).

Will Smith? Yeah, I know. Tommy Lee Jones (TLJ) though. Plus Josh Brolin as Tommy Lee Jones. I wonder how much Motley Crue fan mail TLJ accidentally received when Tommy Lee and co. were in their heyday? It makes me a little sad to picture him opening what was probably the rare piece of correspondence (it being the mid-80's/early nineties...I suppose I'm discounting the possible existence of a lot of elementary-school-age [or residual middle-age] Coal Miner's Daughter fans), only to be disappointed, or maybe excited at the occasional boobs pic. Maybe it could have been a great thing for him, I don't know.

The abovementioned hardcore show was weird. I missed Xaddax and Indecision, got there halfway through Converge, and it was pretty boring. Granted, I only really liked two or so songs off of their most recent album (whatever it was called) and I liked Jane Doe but haven't listened to it in a while. Anyway they played like 4 new songs, and everything was just that d-beat stuff with single-guitar riffing that's a little too spare for me. I mean, Converge haven't been doing the dual-guitar supermosh in like ten years, so don't know what I was expecting. My favorite time seeing them was at the University of Hartford in 1999, I believe? They played on the floor in some multipurpose room, and there were like 45 kids there. Oh well. 

Rorschach were good - this was a reunion show, just FYI. I have an LP of theirs that I never really liked, but they sounded totally different on it (especially the vocals - strange hoarse vocals were absent, high-pitched non-shredding scream vocals were present). However, other than some old heads, it seemed like no one really knew them, so they were sick and heavy and I felt like the show should have been insane, but nobody was reacting to the songs, so it was kind of like it was their first show and it was going really well.

I think I need to get into some new stuff.   

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Meshuggah 5/24/12

Saw Meshuggah at Terminal 5 last night, great show, cool lights. Very confusing pit. Actually the lights had some part in that, since during the most insane parts there was usually a strobe light going, and everyone's afraid to dance when the strobe light is on. You got your headbanging guy whipping you with his hair, you got your muscle dudes, you got your free-range dirtbags, you got me. I haven't been to a metal show in a while.

Meshuggah are whatever at this point to whoever, seems like: They're not stonery or black; they're too complicated to attract dedicated mosh meatheads, they're not blasty enough for extreme heads. They have their dedicated people, I guess. It's cool to see a bunch of kids pounding polyrhythms on their chests while banging their heads in 4/4.

I alternated between being down in it and being high above it all on Terminal 5's 3rd-story balcony (where you basically have the same view as the HDTV that's hanging right above your head). I enjoyed it. I fucking enjoyed it, OK? I don't know why I'm being so defensive about it. It was a really cool show. The musicianship of course was way above par, the theatrics were tasteful, the atmosphere was appropriately insane. Definitely a punishing experience, cathartic. 

Sunday, April 22, 2012


It's a safe bet that in a tense social situation, you are going to feel a little agitated. It is an inevitable, unenviable byproduct of being amongst people, especially your peers, or people who aren't your peers. What you should do in this situation is eat a lot of cookies. Trust me. I just ate a lot of cookies and I feel great.

Cookies are full of vitamins and minerals. They help to strengthen your immune system and make your vision at least twice as strong. You can eat them instead of regular food and shit will work out great. You have to eat a lot of them, though. This is a cautionary tale, to be sure - many people have set out to eat cookies and have made the fatal (not fatal) mistake of only eating one, or sometimes two cookies. Everyone knows you need to eat at least four and as many as sixteen in order for their health benefits to become apparent.

Cookies make your skin tighter, reducing the appearance of crow's feet and jelly legs. Once you've eaten eight or nine cookies, you will instantly notice a difference in the beauty quality of your whole entire shit. You will look a fucking lot better. They will help you with your figure and your physique, as well as your mental. Your brain just starts to feel like it's finally locked into a groove at around cookie #7. You will be able to do cool hard math problems. You will do your taxes, at all. Your taxes will do themselves, I should say. Your taxes will do you! That's how easy it is to eat cookies and feel great and positive about how your whole dome feels.

Don't delay! Go out and buy a lot of cookies and just eat them shits. They will go down like a smooth business transaction, or like your sister on prom night. Sorry, that was an easy joke, but I'm just trying to get across to you the importance of eating a lot of cookies and eating them right. You gotta just stuff them in your whole mouth and chew em. Nobody will look askance at you. 

Feed the extra cookies to a dog if there's one around. Dog benefits from eating the cookie. It's not even bad. Dog knows it too, he will wolf them right up, or dog them right up, I guess, help me out here ladies. You and your dog will go to the bank and just start cashing checks that you have, some of them are made out to you and some of them are made out to your dog, or you can sign some of your checks over to your dog. It's cool to help out a dog if it's in dire financial straits, if it needs help until it gets its tax return back from the Dog Government. You can just give the dog a few cookies until that fat check rolls around and your dog is rolling in dough, cookie dough that is. I apologize for all the puns, but I think you take my meaning that I am going to do whatever it takes to make a cookies be eaten by you.

In conclusion, get a dog and cookies and feed the extra cookies to the dog after you eat twenty or thirty of them. You don't even need to name the dog, just say "cookies" and it will think that is its name, and any houseguests you have will also think that too. Cookies isn't a bad name for a dog, now that I think about it, but don't name your dog fuckin anything. 

Friday, April 13, 2012

Jokes To Watch In 2012

It's about halfway into the year, so that means it's time for the APKWIAB Joke Index. These are some jokes that made a strong showing in previous years (we at APKWIAB have given up on the possibility of any new or original jokes this year), and are the contenders for Trope Of The Year at our big award ceremony gala sacrificial birth ritual in December.

- "That's what she said" - Still holding strong out there. Showing an especially strong trending popularity spike among men slightly too old to use this joke, and, strangely enough, among a select few actual funny people who either adroitly use it with post-millenial wraparound double irony or who wait for an absolutely perfect time to use it.

- Mullet Jokes - You might have thought jokes about hockey hair had reached their peak mainstream awareness when that mullet book came out in 1999 - and you would have been right. Nevertheless, you can still count on someone to break out every nickname ever coined for hair that's long in the back/short in the front, should the opportunity arise, and that has kept these jokes as strong contenders.

- "Seriously?" - This is not a joke, it's just one word. But it is looking like this single word is in the running to win our grand prize, the "J'oke D'or", at our Joke Festival later this year. How you use it is, someone says something, then you say the word, and that's the whole thing. (That reminds me, look for our Joke Instruction Manual in stores and through online retailers later this month.)

That's all for now - just wanted to keep you abreast of the latest knockers at the door of Joke Greatness, the contenders for the Great Joke Cup, the ones you can always count on some boobs out there to keep in the mammaries of the public. Nipples.  

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Brain Beta-Test Log

After extensive beta testing, in which we gave the test brain a variety of scenarios in which it might be called upon to react/respond, there is some discord among my colleagues. There is an even split, by a show of hands, between those who believe that we should give the brain one (1) response option or two (2). Of course, the most logical solution seems to be to limit the possibilities that the brain should be able to imagine, when posed with a problem, to a single, easily-defined choice.

In support of this theory, we put the test brain inside a test body and put the body in Test Chamber FRN-05y5 with a test Grizzly Bear. The one option the brain was given (Option "Fight") resulted nineteen times out of twenty in Death for the test body, and the twentieth time also in Death for the test body but not quite as quickly. Dr. Greenvald argued, sensibly, that the results were of course going to be skewed by the overwhelming physical advantage the Grizzly Bear has, and that we mustn't make any hasty decisions based solely on the test body's utter inability to win out against a large predator in single combat. There were sober nods of agreement.

The dissenting opinion came from Dr. Rooney-Underhorse, who made the radical suggestion that the test brain be programmed with an unheard-of Second Possible Response: Option "Run Away". After significant rewiring, the test brain inside the test body was placed again in the chamber, and in a startling and overwhelming twenty out of twenty trials, it chose Option "Run Away". Granted, the limited size of Test Chamber FRN-05y5 caused the test body to ultimately be destroyed by the Grizzly Bear the full twenty times, in this scenario. Since no larger chambers are available, we are at an impasse.

What follows is editorial; it is not based on hard facts from our extremely controlled and methodical experiments. It is simply my opinion, which, although shared by some of my fellow researchers, is not a unanimously held group consensus.

I believe that the brains should be given both options in any given situation the body may encounter in actual field use: Option Fight AND Option Run Away. What if the carpenter, when presented with a nail, were given only the option to use a screwdriver? The carpenter needs two tools to fully complete his job, and as such, I believe we should roll the brains off the line with no fewer than two tools to deal with whatever might arise in the field. Let's say, for example, that the body is confronted with a shouting man. Rather than only giving the brain the ability to decidedly strike and kill the man, should it not also be allowed to opt for scrambling away and hiding under some loose dirt or mud? It's just good sense.

The end result, after all, of any possible interaction the bodies might encounter in the "real" world, could only be one of two things: A) Ultimate Victory, or B) Ultimate Defeat. Let's take another example: Our body in the field makes a trip to the grocery store. Through the subsequent series of events, the only logical end results are A) The body wins out over all competition and adversity, and commences to dominate and enslave its entire race (and, of course, every other species on the planet), bending all the world to its will, or B) The body fails and dies alone in a hole.

I argue that we should take both of the actions available as options to the brain into account, instead of just one. But, again, this is just one researcher's opinion, and it will either become the supreme accepted wisdom or will be scooted into a waste receptacle by the sheer force of a superior opinion. Only time will tell.

ALSO: We're thinking of giving the bodies some really absurd-looking reproductive organs. But, we must finish up the brain first. Yes, brain first, then the genitals, and after that I think we'll be finished.       

Friday, April 6, 2012

Regarding Your Recent Hospitalization

You came into our emergency room at 3:30 AM on February 12th. You stated to our front desk attendant that you were having difficulty seeing, hearing, smelling, or tasting anything. You also stated that you were having problems with your breathing and balance. After you filled out your preliminary forms and provided the proper identification, you were asked to sit in the waiting area.

We at this hospital pride ourselves on our commitment to giving the best care possible to our patients. It is not our intention to have anyone wait for longer than is necessary, especially in an emergency situation. The actions you then took on the morning of February 12th, while not criminal in nature, caused a disturbance in our emergency room that we are required by law to report to both the local police station and your primary care physician.

When our attendant advised you that you would have to wait, you (in her words) "called me a dirty ringmaster in a circus of pain" and continued to harass her until our security officer intervened. Your tone was relatively civil, but we still find your use of language to be objectionable; there were several children present in the waiting area.

Once you saw Dr. Repal, our doctor on call on the morning in question, the first thing he noticed about you was that you had a black bag duct-taped over your entire head and part of your neck. He attempted to explain to you that this bag might be the cause of your symptoms, and suggested that he carefully remove the bag to alleviate you of any further discomfort. What followed marks the second time our staff found you to be combative in nature, as you refused to remove the bag from your head. Instead you insisted that the bag was not causing the problems you were complaining of, and that in fact you had been suffering from all the ailments in question before the time the bag was ever on your head. When Dr. Repal asked you how the bag came to be on your head in the first place, you admitted you had put it on yourself over ten years ago.

You went on to explain that you needed the bag to remain on your head to survive, as it was the only thing you had found that would satisfactorily manage the symptoms that brought you to our hospital. You also explained that you had tried taking the bag off before, but you immediately suffered headaches. Dr. Repal attributed this to an increased sensitivity to light and sound, which would pass in a relatively short amount of time. You argued vehemently against his theory, stating that you had kept the bag off of your head for an entire day at one point in 2007 and had not been able to stand the way you felt, so you put it back on, this time securing it with duct tape so it would not fall off accidentally.

We recommended at this juncture that you speak with one of our resident mental health experts. You then stormed out of our hospital, were rude to several of our attendants on the way out, and made a short speech to the patients in the waiting area, which was muffled and hard to understand but was clear to contain numerous baseless accusations regarding the quality of health care provided by this hospital.

We would ask that should you visit our facility again, you would please be mindful of the mental health of the people around you, and please also return the hospital gown you were wearing when you left last time. We have mailed your clothes to the address you provided.  

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Korean Food Restaurant

Thank you for your interest in our Korean Food Restaurant. You are probably dying to get right down to eating some good old Korean Food! Not that the food itself would be old. It would be new Korean Food, as you may already be accustomed to regularly eating at another Korean Food Restaurant. Before you get started, however, there are a few things you should know about our establishment.

First of all, we do not currently serve Korean Food. Hang onto your hat, if you have one. If you don't have a hat, it's fine to securely grasp the top of your own head. We tried making Korean Food for a few weeks, but none of us are Korean, and only one of us even knows how to cook at all, and he is pretty much only good at making pizza bagels in the toaster oven. Which we have been eating a LOT of, lately. But that's neither here nor there.

You're probably asking yourself at this point something like What The Hell Did I Put On My Good Shirt With The Buttons And Drive All The Way Here To Get Korean Food For When You Don't Even Make Or Have Any. To answer the second part of your question first, we did for a while try ordering from another Korean Restaurant and reselling their food to patrons of our restaurant such as yourself. That worked for a little while, but there was the issue of the longer wait for what was, ultimately, secondhand food; also we think the other restaurant may have eventually caught on, because they eventually stopped filling our orders. (They are located directly across the street from us and are quite successful, which was the original reason we decided on this location for our Korean Food Restaurant.)

But to address the first part of your concern, What Am I Doing Here In My One Good Unstained Shirt, you need only relax and let our solution wash over you like warming sexual lubricant. You may have also noticed that we don't presently have an actual physical restaurant available for you to eat in. Rest assured that if we did, we would be the very first people to offer you a place to eat your outside food. We toyed with the idea of opening an "Eating Room" of sorts, with this being its express purpose, but that idea was voted down. In any event, we encourage you with the fullness of our beings to not despair, fret, or regret your choice of our Authentic Mexican-Style Korean Food Restaurant (we've undergone a few slight menu changes since we started out to write to you) as your destination for taste-bud titillation and general evening atmospheresence. No, indeed.

We at this restaurant have only one wish: that you eat the best food possible and have sex tonight, and that you do both with the most attractive available member of your species and gender of choice. We want to get you laid, and let's just all make sure we understand that right up front. Nothing would make us happier than to see you slipping and sliding around on a rubbery bed with your sexual equal. To be totally up front and honest about the whole thing, we hope you think of us as you achieve orgasm later on tonight. Not us as individual owners of a Cajun/Caribbean/Mexican-Style Korean Food Restaurant, but as an organization. We're going to make this happen together.

So, we hope this has cleared up any questions or concerns you may have had about our former Korean Food Restaurant. We also hope this has cleared up any acne you may have had, although we make no claims as to the potential dermatologic benefits of reading this message. We hope you drive a very fast car one day along the coast of a picturesque ocean or other large body of water, and that the wind buffets your face and hair and sunglasses in a not-unpleasant fashion. We hope that one of your favorite songs starts playing, and you look back fondly on the day when you visited our restaurant and then got it on deep into the night, and as the chorus of the song crescendoes you open your mouth and throw your head back and unleash a string of meaningless vocables directly at the sun, cosmically linking you with everything and nothing.   

Finally, we hope you one day own a tank full of frogs, or a stylish full-length mirror, or a tube of chapstick in a flavor that you really like. Or all three. 

*this blog entry was rejected from McSweeney's web site thing. I know, it's hard to imagine

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Just Relax

Coming home from a hectic day at work? Just finished your daily round of illegal cow-milking? Having a nail driven directly into your third eye? You need to relax, girl, or boy. And you have tuned into the correct frequency on the internet for relaxation to occur - we're pumping out gushing rivers of soothing text today at APKWIAB, all day! 24 hours a day, seven days out of about every 13 days, excluding national holidays, including state holidays, extruding local holidays.

Just sit back and relax. Or if you find it uncomfortable/not relaxing to sit back (maybe your chair suffers from faulty construction), sit forward and relax. Lean all the way forward, but let's say not so far forward that you might fall down, just to be safe. Or you could find some middle ground, neither sitting forward nor backward, and certainly not sideways, but rather at a comfortable, relaxing angle that allows you to fully be comfortable and relax.

My point is that you should find a good way to sit in your chair, or wherever you're sitting, that feels good to you. Me, I like to sit all the way back when I relax. I just pull up a chair or whatever and sit all the way back until I can't sit any further back. One time I sat back so far that I came out the other side of the chair! That's not actually true. It's a joke. It would be funny if that happened though, or if you sat back to the point where you ended up sitting in a chair directly behind your chair. At which point you'd have to start all over again with sitting back, and you might find yourself in still another chair behind the first two, and the process would repeat until, well I imagine until there were no more chairs behind your chairs.

I don't want to try to trump or best anyone's preferred method of sitting back in anticipation of relaxation, is all I'm trying to say. No one way of sitting back should be given any preferential treatment over any other way, in my opinion; after all this is America and the last thing that should happen here is for someone to tell someone else a more correct way of sitting in a chair. It's not fair, and it's unconstitutional.

So now I assume you have a relatively comfortable angle at which you have positioned your body. Let the relaxation begin. Close your eyes and exhale loudly through your nostrils. Slacken your jaw and allow all of your muscles to become completely loose and floppy. Let everything go, feel the tension melt away. Let go of the muscles that hold in your urine and feces and let it all fill up your pants. Imagine you are floating in a river, a bumpy river that's more than a little bit polluted.

Whoa! Wait, hang on, I forgot to tell you that you need to forget everything you're thinking about. Did I mention that? Jesus, I have been remiss. Under no circumstances should you think about the guy that you're pretty sure your wife has been clandestinely blowing, or the possibility that there is a large cancer growing on and around an important organ you might have or not have. Definitely do not think about how you have no money! That's a big one. Whatever you do, do not think about how your bank balance is impossibly low. And if you have so little money that you do not even have a bank account, or so much debt that you do not have any money at all, do not think about that either. Oh, and don't think about that stupid face you make when you try to work out how words are spelled.

All right, so now that you are fully relaxed, stand up and attack your life's work - however insignificant and rudimentary and inconsequential and ultimately meaningless it may be - with renewed vigor. You will now have forgotten that you are not important! It's like magic, how this works. There is no need to thank me - I stress this point most of all in my Relaxation Seminar, now available for $100,000 on DVD or iTunes. I do not require the fealty and adoration of the legion of peons that I save the sanity of on a daily basis. Allow your face to melt away. Sit in chairs, and support the chair industry. Bounce oddly on your feet as you walk to work. These seemingly minor actions are all that I require that it is mandatory that you do.

Monday, April 2, 2012

It's not quite cold and not quite warm outside;

if you stand on the shady side of the street then cold wind bites you and on the sunny side you get cooked. I have walked an inordinately long distance (~1 mile) to buy a pair of pliers at the dollar store instead of at a "real" hardware store. I am in the market for a pair of pliers because I have to attach a new hose to the washing machine, since the old hose burst and sprayed like 2 inches of water into the middle of the apartment. I was pretty annoyed when that happened, but soon realized I was grateful it was the cold-water hose that burst and not the hot-water hose, which if that one had burst it would have been spraying scalding water and steam everywhere. I also am grateful that there was someone home at the time, otherwise the leak would have filled up the whole place pretty quickly.

I am in the market for the pair of pliers because I am over 30 years old, a man, and I own zero tools. Not one. No hammer, no screwdriver, no...shit, I can't even think of the name of another basic tool (other than pliers). I don't even have any thumb tacks.

The traffic situation on the corner of Grand and Lorimer is really entertaining. It's a busy intersection on a normal day - Grand is a major truck route - but today is special, the traffic light is flashing yellow on Grand and red on Lorimer. The walk/don't walk signs are off. School has just let out. There are buses, commuters, dumptrucks, and groups of children all snarled up, honking and screeching. I stand on the corner for 5-10 minutes, waiting for a truly fantastic accident to occur, but I am sadly disappointed.

The dollar store is great for some things, and not so great for other things, but I'm not trying to start a professional tool collection. They have hammers there that feel like they're made out of balsa wood and aluminum. I buy a pair of pliers for $1.08.

On the way home, there is a man passed out on the corner, flat on his back. He looks like he's on his way home from a construction job. I pat him on the shoulder and say Hey buddy are you OK, and he wakes up and starts mumbling in Spanish. A man in sunglasses standing nearby says an ambulance has been called, I guess this guy fell over a few times before deciding to nap on the corner. I ask him if he needs help, and he nods and sticks out his hand. I stick out my hand and he grasps it and keeps mumbling and rolling his head around. I'm like, OK, I guess I'll sit here and hold this guy's hand until the ambulance gets here? I'm still giving him the benefit of the doubt w/r/t whether he's injured or just drunk. Then he starts pulling on my hand, he's trying to get up, and he's thanking me. He's drunk. He gets up and weaves away, makes it about half a block before falling up against a fence and leaning on it. I follow him and try to ask him how far he has to go. He starts saying "que?" which I'm pretty sure means "what". He starts getting salty, and starts saying "que" louder. I'm like OK man, I'm gonna go. He says "go" and points down the street. He is moving in slow motion. I'm like, OK man. I go.

When I get back, I take the pliers out of the package and try to use them to attach the washing machine hose. They are terrible pliers, in my (admittedly uneducated) opinion. They don't open very wide, and almost immediately the rubber grips on one of the handles slides greasily off. There's kind of a lot of grease on them in general, I don't know if that's a thing with pliers or what. I didn't look on the package, maybe they said "Now With Extra Grease" or something. Maybe that's a thing with pliers.

Friday, March 30, 2012

Mega Chug Energy Drink

Feeling down? Uninspired? Uninsured? Uninterested? Unitard? Stop by your nearest store that you buy things at and check out Mega Chug Energy Drink!! It'll put your balls in a vise. Balls in a vise? I'm sorry, Fred, I quit, I can't read this shit anymore. [CUT]

Fred, I trained for five years in a prestigious acting school and have numerous screen and stage credits to my name, why do you have me doing voice-overs for commercials that make zero sense? I know, Fred. I know. Yes, I agree with you that a check is a check. Do you know - Fred. Do you know what the "director" said to me when arrived on the set today? Nothing. He was looking at his phone right up until the moment I was in the booth and ready to say my first line! And then he kept playing with his phone during the taping, forgetting to give me cues, I'm done with this shit, Fred! Fred. I don't care who he's worked for. The guy is wearing sandals with socks on.

Fred. You're not listening to me. In fact, I'm done talking to you. Put the energy drink on the phone. JUST PUT IT ON THE - Chug? Chug, are you there? Hey baby, it's me. Look, Mega, I know I promised to do this commercial for you, and I know you're really struggling in your career right now, but I just can't take this anymore! I'm sorry, I'm just frustrated, I don't want to take anything out on you...I know...but we talked about this! I said I would do it, as long as it's not too over-the-top. Do you know how you're being marketed? Do you really want people to think you're going to put their balls in a vise? Look, it's stupid, I already quit and walked off the set. It's over! Chug, you're not listening to me.


Chug, I gotta go. We'll talk later. I'm sorry. [clicks to incoming call] Heyyyyyy what's up sexy? You know I've been missing having some Bull pouring down my throat...Oh my God. Chug, no you don't understand, it was a joke! I thought I was on the other line, fucking, I haven't been talking to RedBull! I mean, it calls me every now and then, just to say hi, but you know you're my number one...look it's got nothing to do with who's the brand leader. Chug. Mega. Listen to me. Who's got the highest Taurine content on the market? It's you, baby. You know it's you. OK. I'll be home in an hour.  

Thursday, March 29, 2012

An Important Legal Notice

Insofar as this legal agency is concerned, you have ceased to exist as a human being. This may come as a shock to you; we are terribly sorry for any inconvenience we may be causing by bringing you this news. But we are in possession, at this agency, of a very large and very powerful computer, and the computer's massive and intricate filing system indicates that you no longer exist. Please take this under advisement.

You should be aware of the exhaustive research that was required of our legal team in pursuit of the verification of this finding. A paralegal, who is paid an exorbitant rate by the hour and is already harried with many other tasks, had to travel via the elevator from our main office down to the records vault to ascertain the correct spelling of your middle name. He then had to return his findings back to our main office floor and manually keypunch the required information into the computer, subtracting still more valuable minutes from what little time was available for him to perform his duties. As such, you will be receiving a bill attached to this letter, with the amount circled in red indicating your outstanding balance which you must satisfy as reimbursement for the services rendered by our in-house paralegal.

Further, in compliance with federal regulations, we were required to have the report of your non-existence verified by a governmental office, at additional cost to us. A courier was sent with an envelope full of pertinent papers from our location over to their location, and one of their employees had to take each piece of paper out of the envelope one by one and look at them, individually, with his eyes. His eyes are not what they used to be, so he had to put on special lenses that attach to the bridge of his nose and behind his ears via a supportive wire frame, and look again at some of the very small writing that was written on the paper. He had to use his brain to create thoughts, and his central nervous system to translate those thoughts into muscular actions that allowed him to take a red pen from his breast pocket and make marks on some of the papers we had sent him. He then had to turn his entire body 45 degrees to the left, pick up a stamp, and stamp the front page of the papers with it. After all of this, he had to sort all of the papers and put them in an envelope to be returned to our office by yet another courier.

At this point, I'm sure you can appreciate all the trouble we have gone to in relaying this message to you, and it has undoubtedly dampened what might be a slight feeling of discomfort at the receipt of news that you no longer exist in corporeal form as an entity on this planet. We will not be surprised in the least if you draft an apology letter to us, as an attempt to repay us for our efforts and hard work in regard to this matter. It wouldn't be the first time we have received such a letter, and really it's little more than an act of common courtesy. We would go so far as to say you would be remiss in not sending us a kind thank-you letter and a small present.

Is that really too much to ask? This is a personal request from the writer of this letter, to you. I've been asked not to use my name, only the names of my employers, but this has become a highly personal correspondence. All I ask for in return for my generous notification letter is a thank you, a gift, and a warm embrace and a kiss. Just a hug and a kiss! I may not look like much, but I think I could make you really happy. We could build a happy home together and prepare meals and get in a playful laundry fight in the laundry room, and get on a plane and take a trip to a place that neither of us has ever been to but we both will pretend to know a lot about. We could dog-sit for friends when they're out of town and child-rear when the time is right. That's all I ask.  

Any appeals to this highly urgent legal matter may be lodged at the court office on the 27th of next month, starting at 8:00 AM. We suggest that you get there early to avoid an extended wait time period.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012


It is with great zeal that I, as head writer and curator of this blog, strive to maintain some semblance of accuracy in the material I post. Regrettably, this incredibly high standard is not always so easy to live up to. To follow are a few errors that appeared, to my chagrin, and other people's chagrin, and let's just say everyone experienced a good deal of chagrin, but the point is they appeared on this blog and it's time to take myself to task for it, in the form of a few Corrections and Retractions.

- On May 1st, 2011, it was asserted in these simulated pages that seagulls are unable to fly. I was, as you probably can understand, confusing seagulls with penguins. As a result of this error appearing on this blog, several thousand seagulls plummeted from mid-flight to earth, suffering major injuries and quite a few horrific deaths. In addition, a little over a dozen people were hit by falling seagulls; three were killed, eight hospitalized, and the remainder are still unaccounted-for (likely rendered instantly insane and currently wandering the streets aimlessly). I wish to correct this error by emphatically stating that seagulls can fly, and would further like to encourage any seagulls that are reading this to resume flight at their leisure.

- On September 27th, 2010, I took to task the leader of the fine United States for an action he had undertaken. Although I stand by my criticism, the events that followed have been catastrophic. Staggered by my critique, and suffering from a huge blow to his confidence, the President started making bizarre policy decisions and strange announcements, and began dealing in other untoward ways with the captaining of this country. The effects of his action have no doubt trickled down from the richest and most intelligent citizens to the idiot poor, and even further down to the readers of this blog. Now, I stand by my criticism. But where I wrote "19" in the third paragraph of the article in question, I should have written "shoulders". I have edited the blog post to reflect the correction of this error.

- On January 11th of this year, I wrote a series of blog posts. They were nonsensical in nature, contained jokes in poor or no taste, and were, in many cases, libelous and morally wrong. I take all that shit back.

- On Wednesday, March 28th, 2012, I wrote this entry. As I was writing it, I realized that the purpose behind all of these apologies lay in my own feelings of low esteem. I at once stood from my chair and ran into the street, barefoot, with a spear and a torch, and began a night of mayhem that will be long remembered by the inhabitants of this city. I blew up cars, I tossed telephone poles around like a childish puling infant. I painted fake doors on the sides of buildings, let people walk into the walls and bump their heads, and laughed devilishly as I passed through them as if they were real doors. I exchanged the tires of all the cars on my block with the tires of the cars two blocks away, and in the morning when everyone went to work, nobody noticed any difference. I started a food drive that became unruly and out of control; as I type this I am holding the front door shut with my back while an angry mob tries to cram cans of creamed corn through my mail slot. I flew a plane but forgot that I don't know how to fly a plane, so I jumped out over a cornfield and watched the plane fly off on autopilot, rising and disappearing into the night. (Drop me an email if you spot it.) I rewarded poor sportsmanship. I encouraged the bending of the rules. I shadowboxed myself into submission. I wasn't sorry and I didn't take any of it back, and then it was now.      

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Hot Pics Of Naked People

It might seem clear to you that I have tricked you into coming to my blog page with a not-very-convincing promise that if you click the link you will get to see hot pics of naked people. Well, if you really thought that you would get to see that by clicking this, congratulations, you're stupid. But you might as well stick around and read about what I've got going on today!

I heard somewhere on the internet that what people really want to read on a blog is the writing of someone who is an expert on something. I thought, "Perfect. I'm an expert on everything." Actually I said it out loud. Hey, when you know something is true, you say it out loud, like when it's cold outside. "Boy, it's cold!" is something I might be heard to say, if it's cold. If it's not cold, I might say something else, like "Boy, it's hot!" Only if it's hot though - you get the idea. Saying things out loud helps progenerate your thoughts into dynamic word masses.

But what is an expert, really? Expertise is an undefinable (indefinable? indefinite?) quality to have. Who's to say when someone is an expert at something? For instance, a guy might say he's an expert marksman with a crossbow, but unless you let him hunt you for sport for 3 days and nights, there's no way of knowing. So you can't know if someone's an expert just from them telling you, because they might be lying.

Another way someone could come to be perceived as an expert is if a lot of other people that know the person all say "Hey, that guy's a real expert fisherman!" (If the guy is really really good at fishing. If he were really really good at something else, they would get the idea.) But what if all of those people that say that are lying too? Why would a lot of people lie about someone being an expert at something? Maybe the guy paid them to say it. Maybe they're all good friends of his and they're trying to be nice and not hurt his feelings. Maybe they want free fish (if he's a fisherman).

My point is, there is really no way to objectively be an expert at anything. So I might as well pretend to be an expert at everything (even though I'm not pretending), and start dispensing advice. Medical advice, marital advice, mechanical advice - seems like advice on things that start with "M" is as good a place as any to start.

I should mention that I'm not a doctor, I've never been married, and I cannot even repair a bicycle, let alone anything with an internal combustion engine in it. I'm not gonna let that stand in my way, though. The best way to Grow Your Expertise is to get out there and start advising people. March into that emergency room and grab the scalpel out of the medical guy (whatever he's called)'s hand. Admonish him for his poor technique, slap his face if you feel it's necessary - use your Expertise. Tell your friend who is having marriage troubles to divorce his wife. (This one's a can't-miss. If he decides it wasn't the right thing to do, just tell him to call off the divorce! No harm done.) Open the hood of your neighbor's car and pull out a couple of the wires and hoses or whatever's in there. Then wait. When he tries to start his car and it won't start, advise him that he's having car trouble! Put your hand on his shoulder so he won't take it too hard. Tell him, "It happens to the best of us." He will fear and respect you.    

First thing tomorrow afternoon, I'm gonna take my expertise out of the fake internet world and into the real world of reality. I encourage you to do the same thing, and I bet with all of us working together (or against each other, we'll see how the day plays out), we can fix just about anything we put our mind(s) to fixing. Sure is a relief knowing that the future is in my own hands. 

Monday, March 26, 2012

Action Movie Reviews!

I thought I'd take a little time to review A FEW OF MY FAVORITE sorry caps lock a few of my favorite movies in my favorite movie genre: Action! Action movies are when there is a lot of stuff happening on the screen all at once. Or sometimes a guy will put his face really close to another guy and say something like "better luck next time" in a weird hoarse voice (it's to show he's really masculine). Action movies are not for the faint of heart. How is there not a band called Faint Of Heart? I just googled it, there isn't one. Boom, the next thing you know, in an Action movie, there's an EXPLOSION! And a car chase.

You ever notice some guys are like, super masculine all the time? You can't even hug them without them slapping you on the back really hard. I mean all I want is a hug. I don't need to be rudely assaulted. Is it because they don't actually like hugging other men, is that why they need to dress it up like we're kind of in a fight or about to get in a wrestling match? It seems to me that if you didn't like hugging other men, you could just say "no thanks bro" in a deep scratchy voice when they went to hug you. No big deal, problem solved, and nobody gets slapped on their sensitive back, which they may or may not spend a lot of time moisturizing. Then you could, I don't know, jump off something tall to assert your manliness.

I guess you might hurt someone's feelings if you were to deny them a hug. After all, they're trying to show you love. Pure love, that's all - like a puppy dog shows pure love to its master. Or actually more like a puppy shows love to another puppy. It's like when two puppies hug each other, then fall asleep together in a cute position, maybe they spoon each other a little bit and someone takes a video of it and puts it on the internet, and it gets over ten million views. What's the harm in that? Who's getting hurt? It's just two guys hugging and spooning each other, maybe they kiss a little, no big deal, and they video it and put it on the internet. Nobody gets slapped around, nobody's feelings get hurt, and two men get to experience the warmth of another man's body. Pure love!

Pure action, that's what I like to see, though. High-adrenaline films. My favorite thing really is a guy is the good guy, he's a cop or something, and he doesn't play by the rules. I love not playing by the rules! It doesn't always go over so well though. In football games, they really hate it when you don't play by the rules. I was the reserve safety on my high school's football team, and whenever they put me in, I was known as the renegade player who played by his own rules. I would make up my own plays, or would just take the football away from one of the other guys on my team and throw it into the creek near where the football field was. I caught hell from the coach, that's for sure - but I was the only guy on the force with the BALLS (no pun intended...?) to show that establishment prick that things don't always go by the book! I got my ass kicked

But not everything can be pure action. Hey guys, you ever have to sit through some silly romance movie just because your partner, who isn't as masculine as you, wants to experience feelings? It's the worst, right? Those super-hot actors making faces and explaining themselves, the female actors doing whatever? UGH it's so boring! I always wish someone would just punch someone else in the face and get things going in these movies. I'm all for experiencing emotions with other men (or women), but enough already. I especially hate it when one of my favorite Action movie stars takes a Serious Role in a Romantic movie, and acts like a total pussy? I mean come on. You know they have to hate doing that. It just makes me want to watch some bad-ass shit where there's a bunch of guys in t-shirts with the sleeves cut off and they're all like "let's DO this!" and then they punch a hole through a cardboard box, and then they hug and slap each other on the back, and all touch each other's dicks.    

Sunday, March 25, 2012

About Me

I realize that my past few blog entries have been a little less than personal. I haven't let my guard down and let any of you get to know the "real" me. That's because you might not like what you see...or what you meet, I guess. Ultimately, there's a chance that you won't like what you find out, or I suppose once you've found out, it'll become what you know. About me.

What I mean to say is that I'm something of a paradox, a riddle, an enigma. No, that's too generous...maybe more like a short, poorly-thought-out dirty limerick that doesn't rhyme. I'm kind of like a haiku with too many syllables. A short, ineffective poem.

I didn't fill out the "about me" section on my Blogger profile because it would be far, far too involved, I'm way, way too deep. I also don't have my last name on here. If you Google Image Searched my full name, you'd find a mug shot of the registered sex offender from Kentucky who has my same name but with the first and last names reversed. I guess you could possibly say I'm kind of like that guy; we're roughly the same age. Except I'm not a sex offender, I don't weigh 350 pounds, and I don't live in Kentucky.

I want to really tell you who I am, what I'm about, and where I'm going in life. I need you to understand my message, my raison d'etre, my modus operandi. Right now I'm eating guacamole.

I need to connect with you: I live in an apartment. I may or may not own an office chair.

Enough about me - let's talk about you. Where are you from? What were your parents like when you were growing up? Hmm, yeah. That's interesting. Can I borrow $50? Does it bother you when people write things like "$50 dollars"? What kind of music do you listen to? "Everything"? Oh, you mean "the radio". I've listened to that. Seriously though about the $50. Can I borrow it.

But I do really want to get to know you, to find out what makes you tic (sic). Once I had a tick on my leg and I tried to burn it off with a match. I didn't realize you're supposed to just blow the match out and place the hot ember against the tick's body, causing it to back out of its bite; I just kept burning my leg and the tick I think died without releasing me. I went to the hospital, where a doctor very clinically and patronizingly removed it with a pair of surgical-grade tweezers. I was like ten years old. OK, it was earlier today. I'm sorry, what were you saying about yourself?

Let me stop you there. If you were a tick, do you think you would take pleasure in spreading lyme disease to people? Wait, before you answer - same question, but with you as a mosquito spreading malaria. You're a mosquito, with malaria, buzzing through the jungle, it's really hot, and you spy a group of slow-moving white people on safari. Do you look forward to possibly killing one of them? You, the tiny mosquito, killing a member of the most vicious, dangerous species on the planet? Don't answer that just yet.

Well, I'm happy that we've taken this chance to get to know each other. You know a little bit more about me, and I know more than enough about you. You're disgusting.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Being Famous

Being famous is not easy. You have to start thinking about everything you say, instead of just allowing your thoughts to gush directly from your mouth. With every word you must consider: Could what I am saying right now be offensive to someone? Am I really doing my best to inspire people? What will my children think of what I am saying right now? And my children's children? You have to think, stupid. I know you're used to immediately reverting to verbal diarrhea. I know you like to use horrifyingly unoriginal and disgusting figures of speech like "verbal diarrhea". Who was the first person who used that term, and how did it go over so well? I am 100% certain that it was the same person who invented the term "brain fart". Is this what you want your legacy to be? A litany of scatological metaphors? No, you gotta be smart, stupid.

Once you're famous, you also have to start dressing better. And eating right, too. You have to get plenty of exercise, and listen to what people are saying when they're trying to tell you important things. You have a responsibility to your fans to look good, be well-informed, and be in good health. You might say, "Being famous sounds a lot like being a small child. All of a sudden I can't eat burgers at 5 in the morning, or watch TV marathons? I can't aurally scan people's voices when they talk to me, sifting through their meaningless sentences in search of praise and offers of cash?" Well, OK, you've got a point, maybe this is a bit of a hard-sell. I mean, we can't all be perfect. The trick is to start small. Set goals to overcome one of these bad habits at a time, and keep an eye on yourself to make sure they don't start creeping back in to your daily routine.

Nah, fuck that. Just make up lies, it's a lot easier. Run into someone on the street at 7AM on your way home from somewhere seedy, while they are on their way to work? Tell 'em you're on your way to work too, at your job of being frighteningly relevant. Wait for them to blather their way through a few sentences, then pretend you're getting a phone call, and put your phone to your ear and give the person the finger as you walk away. It's not like their existence matters, haha. You are famous now, and that is the only meaningful thing left to be in this world. If you're not famous (or haven't yet become famous...nah you're not gonna be famous), you are going to have a small funeral where probably no one important will be there. Maybe your mom will go up and read a eulogy about how much you loved sports and what a big sports fan you were. She'll be wearing an article of clothing that bears the logo of what had been your favorite sports team. Then the team will be sold 6 months later and will move to a different city and it will almost be like your mom was lying.

So what am I wasting my time here for? You ain't gonna be famous, so you might as well go around acting the way you've been acting and looking the way you've been looking. It's not going to make a difference, and no one's going to remember you anyway. Sorry to end this post on a bit of a downer, but it's quite frankly my business to tell people like it is. No need to sugarcoat things; it's about time someone sat you down and had this talk with you, finally. I should have told you to sit down before you read this.

Friday, March 23, 2012

Thursday Night Low-Stakes Poker Night

Thanks for joining us for Thursday night low-stakes poker tournament. I'm your host, Chip "Ted" Wallace. The game is texas hold-em. Don't know how to play? Don't worry. Just hang on tight for one of the most scintillating nights of semi-gambling in your life!

Over here at table four, we've got some real solid action going on. It seems that Player __________ has failed to post his big blind. The game has now ground to a halt; play has been stopped for over an hour. No one is really sure what to do. The big blind is currently set at two hundred, or less than 1/100th of each player's total chip stack. There's a lot of speculation going on: is he contemplating an all-in? Is he unwilling to risk posting his mandatory bet? Or is he simply unaware that it is his turn to put in money? No one wants to be rude and assume this last case - politeness is, as you know, the most important part of low-stakes poker. Is he having a very subtle seizure? The other players have been doing their best to look expectantly at Player __________ for over a full hour now. One player appears to have to use the restroom quite badly, and is squirming noticeably at this point. Another player's eyes have failed due to intense squinting, and he is now functionally blind. The time is 3:35 AM. We'll be back after this commercial announcement:

Tonight's poker game is brought to you by Red Bull, chocolate, seltzer, and Advil. Playing poker late? Feeling beat? Drink and eat all of these things. Not only will you feel great tonight, you'll feel extra-weird when you have to get up for work in four hours! Or extra-terrible when you get up late because you don't have a job and you played poker for seven hours only to lose between 20 and 40 dollars, or make (at most) 140.

OK, we're back. Player ________ has still not posted his big blind. One of the other players has gone into cardiac arrest, paramedics have been rushed to the table and are currently shocking his body with those shock paddle things. What do you call those? In any event, it would appear that he is unresponsive. The paramedics are not sure what to do with the body, however, as the big blind has still not been posted. Player _________ has a look on his face that could be described as "guarded". The paramedics have decided to leave the deceased player at his seat in anticipation of the eventual posting of the big blind and the continuation/conclusion of what has been (to say the least) a very well-considered hand of poker by Player ________. The paramedics have pulled up seats for themselves.

Folks, we've just had word that the President has called for a stop to the natural passage of time until Player _________ posts his bet. That's right, you do not need to worry about getting up early yourselves for work tomorrow, feeling groggy and useless from a night of watching televised low-stakes poker, because with the help of the Department of Homeland Security (and some generous assistance from the Bureau of Weights and Measures), Eastern Standard Time has been paused at the current time, which is 3:47 AM. Word is that the President is en route to the poker room. It seems that once he heard about the big blind situation at low-stakes poker night, he said quote "I gotta see this". We expect him within the next...well I suppose it's hard to say, what with the suspension of the natural laws of time. The player who had to use the restroom has, predictably, released into his pants. The other players are inching their chairs away from him, except for Player __________, who continues to sit, statuesque, with his two cards in his hand. The look on his face could be described as "pensive".

This is very surprising! Player _______ appears to be, I'm sorry, sorry to everyone at home, that was my miscall - I thought he was going for his chips there, but as it turns out he was only reaching down to scratch his right leg.

I'm getting some more information in my earpiece from upstairs...well, that's quite something...ladies and gentlemen, the earth has ceased rotating on its axis, and...yes, OK, I understand...and has also, I'm being told now, also stopped its current rotation around the sun. Player ________ has a look on his face that could be described as "sheet rock". All of the fillings in my cavities just a moment ago were sucked from my mouth and flew out the window. Reports coming in of waterspouts over central Nebraska. Several nuclear missles have launched into themselves. My microphone is now speaking on its own, in fact I have not been speaking for over an hour. Low stakes poker night.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012


As long as we're on the subject of things that are really cool, let me take this lovely foggy Wednesday evening to talk about Pirates. Not the grubby "ethnic" type of pirates, the ones that currently exist as depicted by CNN, those guys of course are just criminals, maybe terrorists, and deserve sniper bullets to the head. I mean the cool old-timey pirates that just went around doing whatever they wanted, making quips, and swordfighting.

You could always count on those good old pirates, I'm not really sure where they were from, but they spoke with that cool pirate slang. Did you know there's a box on facebook that you can click that will turn all the posts and like the date and time and stuff into Pirate words? Dope. I just found out about it, and as you know, you can always turn to APKWIAB to hip you to the latest internet tricks. But so yeah, pirates always say like "arr" and "there be the gold!" and stuff like that, and I don't think I need to explain to you why talking like that is freakin hilarious!! Imagine, you're, I don't know, at your job, or just hanging loose, and some guy comes up and is like "arr!" to you! And everyone just cracks up laughing? And then for the one-two, he follows up with "where be my beer?" or like " are ye?" ahaha. Or just whatever, you make it into pirate talk.

But those old-fashioned pirates were the best. They never hijacked the working man's boats, they were always after some stuffy English dude that would shoot cannons at them just because their flag was a skull and crossbones instead of that stupid weird flag the English people have that kinda looks like an American flag but has like, a lion on it, I think. I mean, skull and crossbones?!? How cool would it be if you had a car that instead of numbers on the license plate, it had a bunch of skulls. You know the cops would write you a ticket and give you a bunch of shit for that, nothing ever changes I guess. The other day a cop told me to get off the sidewalk because I was "loitering". Wow, just wow. Seriously? Wow. Really? Seriously? Wow. Serio-- Wow. Really? Wow

If I were a pirate, I would have the baddest-assed ship around, and it wouldn't be hard judging from some of the America's Cup footage I watched on cable recently. Most sailboats seem to be much smaller, and the crews look like they would be a pushover for my pirate crew to take over their shit...from. I would add extra modern weapons to my pirate ship though, like flamethrowers and grenade launchers, fuck that cannon shit. I don't even really know what a cannonball is, is it just like a big metal ball that shoots out of a cannon? Not a very good weapon, you might as well just shoot a bunch of rocks at somebody.

Arr! There be the gold! Aha. My post was getting a little off-topic there, and I just wanted to bring it back to Cool Pirate Talk. Oh my God. I just thought of something. What if you made your facebook posts all in Pirate Talk already, so when you pressed the button to change them to Pirate Mode they didn't change at all. I think tomorrow I'm gonna make all my posts in Pirate Talk and when someone asks me, or when they post a comment that asks me "What did you do, switch your facebook to Pirate Mode?" I'll be like "No!" Or "Nay!" (Pirate version), and it'll probably throw them for a loop. Or maybe I'll be like THAT'S JUST THE WAY THAT I TALK!

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

103.4 - The Inspiration Station!

Thanks for tuning in to 103.4. Today we're going to talk about Following Your Dreams. Even if it's totally hopeless, you should follow your dreams; it is worth beg borrow and and stealing just to scratch out a living if it means you can go bang pang poom on the drums in your indecipherable extreme metal band, or plip plop with your paintbrush on a canvas or whatever all day long, or let's not forget blah blah bloo blah in your obstinate, bulky writing. In these times, when you are faced with the choice between either accepting wilting corporate employment in exchange for money and esteem, or walking around at 4am collecting cans to exchange for redemption, you should choose the latter. Choose redemption. Allow me to rubber-mallet that point home.

Do whatever it takes to achieve whatever it is you want to do. Take those steps that other people are afraid to take. You make those business cards that say "Medial Hypnochaeologist" and you hand them out to everyone. You will be rewarded a thousand fold by the universe. I know what I'm talking about - I followed my dreams, and I wouldn't recommend that anyone else do it any other way.

When I told my family that I wanted to be an archer, they couldn't have been less impressed, and they laughed me right out of the room. But that was my passion, ever since I saw Robin Hood: Prince Of Thieves starring Kevin Costner. I hit the road with my bow and my quiver, and was arrested within two hours for Brandishing a Deadly Weapon. Still working with the Probation people on that one - but it was my dream and I followed through on it!

Or the time I told my boss I was quitting my job as Apprentice Bridge Painter so I could pursue my lifelong hobby of building designer crutches. I was so excited when the shipment of the first 5,000 units arrived at my studio apartment. I slept on boxes of crutches for three years, I breathed the aroma of custom crutch wood, I think I even ate one or two sets of crutches. And I never sold a single crutch. But I was able to look myself in the mirror and go about my daily errands a little easier, because I knew I had embraced my passion. And also because I was on crutches and people held the doors open for me everywhere. My leg muscles deteriorated badly.

Finally, I found my true calling in life. It took many years and many bounced checks at the Food Bazaar, and the loss of a finger to loan sharks, and over 75 counts of petty larceny (Food Bazaar again), and one time trying to sell a police car to a uniformed police officer, but I made it. I am now a licensed Incidental Taxidermist in the State Of California (where I don't live, but I'm working on that), which means that if a limb falls off say, your family pet, I am fully qualified to sterilize, stuff, and mount that limb (or other appendage, up to and including those 6 inches in length or 3 oz in weight) on a plaque and provide it to you at an affordable price and with a tasteful inscription on an attached brass plate. I made it!!! California, here I come.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Zombie Apocalypse Redux

Zombie Apocalypse is definitely one of my favorite scenarios. It's the end of the world, I don't have to go to work anymore, there's no one to tell me what to do, and I can run around in the streets tirelessly with a battleaxe, Killing Zombies. I have no desire or ability to kill actual living people, but if it's zombies, all bets are off. I hate zombies. They're gross and usually bleeding or injured in some way, and worst of all, they're hungry!

I really need very little to survive, as I already live a fairly spartan existence. I am well-prepared to live off the land, as long as land somehow produces pizza and burgers in abundance, as God intended it to. I have the clothes on my back, and they are all I need, unless of course the Zombie Apocalypse lasts longer than three months and my clothes either wear out or are no longer seasonally appropriate.

In an apocalypse-type situation, I would probably do pretty well, especially if there are zombies, even though I have refused to learn the basic lesson of zombie lore, which is that the other surviving humans are going to be a much larger pain in the ass to deal with. I can't wait until the zombie apocalypse happens and all my access to fresh water and medicine is fed through a chokepoint of para-governmental control. I can't wait to sell my butt for a bottle of poland spring.

I'm so excited for that day, when the dead walk the earth, and I can walk around outside with my machete and flamethrower and sweet steampunk accessories and decapitate the dead, for at least three hours, before I am inevitably trapped in a basement with a group of living humans that don't share any social mores with me and we can talk at each other until we formulate a terrible plan of sticking together and making a run for it. Or better yet, a plan of barricading ourselves inside until "help" arrives. It will be so amazing when the end of the world comes and I am forced to hang out with a bunch of people I don't like in order to survive. I don't know how to load a gun but I am sure I will have access to one.

It will be great also to ride my murdered-out motorcycle, free at last, across the wasteland, until either it runs out of gas or I get clotheslined by a wire that someone has tied across the road, and my broken body is looted for shoelaces and chewing gum. The key is to keep moving, and trust my survival skills, which I don't have any of. I'm ready for anything.

The real thing to remember is that the Zombies are dead people. They're no longer alive, so it's OK to viciously mutilate their animate bodies. Unless they are the 28 Days Later-type zombies, where they're not actually reanimated corpses, they're just people who have sort of an aggressive rabies-type disease that makes them extremely violent and unreasonable. Even then it's OK, because they have lost the ability to reason, and they're bloodthirsty animals, it's totally fine to kill them and chop their heads off, and I shouldn't imagine I will be subjected to the any of the side effects of taking another living person's life. They are walking loopholes in morality.

In fact, should the definition of "zombie" be even slightly relaxed - to include, say, the criminally insane - things are really looking up for me. This opens up a whole new demographic of people I can mercilessly kill, because they're no longer people. I don't even really need to know that much about how violent or insane they really are; pretty much everyone in like a certain-colored jumpsuit with a number on the back is probably fair game to beat in the head with a baseball bat. It's totally fine.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

A Few Basic Martial Arts Moves You Should Know

Some of you may know that I am an accomplished martial artist. No need to avert your eyes in terror and respect - I wish to impart knowledge to you. On you? To you. I apologize for the spotty grammar so far in this post, I am on my deathbed, as I have recently suffered a quite serious martial arts-related injury to my duodenum. No need to apologize for your inconsiderate nature, asking me to teach you The Martial Arts when I am in this weakened and basically dying state. I understand, and in this phase of my life, my twilight years, it is my only remaining joy to see you learn these few basic moves and go out to maim and kill your opponents on the streets of battle.

The first move I will cover is the Knuckle Kick. The Knuckle Kick sounds complicated, but it is really a very basic Manoeuver. Imagine yourself on the streets of battle. Maybe it's cloudy outside, and you cut a dashing figure against the flying slabs of clouds. The sun winks at your head. Your opponent flies suddenly at you, with a devastating Power Kick! You must immediately pivot on your right foot - no, your right foot. Jesus - OK, look, pivot on your - there! now counter his kick with the second knuckle of your third finger. I'm sorry, forgive me, they've pumped me full of drugs and I can barely communicate. I meant to say the third knuckle of your second finger. Imagine it the other way around! Seems ridiculous, doesn't it, even to an idiot layman like you. Yes, so, counter his kick with your Knuckle Strike. Plant the knuckle with ceaseless verve into his basal ganglia. He will be dead in 20 nanoseconds.

The second move is the Sleeping Monkey. The name of this move can be deceptive (or deceiving, I'm not quite sure, as I am now in throes of agony due to my approaching demise), but don't be fooled. It can be easily understood, despite the fact that you are an ignorant peasant worker. Question: when is your opponent at his weakest? Correct: When he is taking a shit. Simply throw a garbage can at the top of his head as he sits down on the toilet. I'm sorry, in my debilitated and delirious state, I instructed you incorrectly. The technique I just described is called Garbage Can Shitting Man's Head, and I learned it in high school by having it performed on me. The correct answer to "when is your opponent at his weakest" is While He Is Asleep. To perform the Sleeping Monkey, simply sneak into his house and murder him. Wait until he is asleep first.

The third and final move...nurse, more, even more than that...gooooood. All right. The final move in basic martial arts, which even a total fucking moron such as yourself should be able to wrap your mind around, is the Arm. Imagine your...rrrghh...i'm dying...rrrr....your opponent shambling towards you. He is gnashing his teeth viciously, as the gears of a Chevy with a busted timing belt might gnash together. He is fearsome, cut like a statue out of marble. Beautiful, even. You want nothing more than to suck his dick. But he strikes out at you with a frightening array of kicks and punches! Much to your chagrin. You step aside, and allow the kicks and punches to go hurtling off into outer space. Now step in and hit him with your Arm. His whole fuckin head will just completely fly off. You are victorious.

I must go to my death now. But I trust I will meet you on the streets of the afterlife of battles, and we will bow to each other and then give each other a fabulous bro hug. Hail.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Well, I can see by the back of Mr. Jordan Peterson's head that he has NOT been listening to my lecture for most of the past hour, as he has favored talking to Ms. Rebecca Templeton instead. So why don't you come up to the front of the class, Jordan, and tell us all what you were talking about? Better yet, why don't you come up and tell me what I was talking about? Never mind, how about you tell Rebecca what you think I was talking about, loudly enough for the whole class to hear. Strike that, I think you should go out in the hall until the end of class. To the principal's office, perhaps? To the room with just the phone and the copy machine in it, and lock yourself in.

Maybe Mr. Jordan Peterson would like it if he found himself sent home early today? Suspended for three days? Suspended for five days. Suspended by his thumbs from a flagpole? I'm going to have to write a note for you to take home to your parents. No, actually, I'm going to call your parents myself. Better yet, I'm going to write a note for you to take home and have you call me and read the note to your parents while I'm on the phone. I think the only thing that makes sense is for me to call your parents, talk to them for a while, get to know them, then write them a note and swallow it.

You are a failure, do you realize that, Mr. Peterson, do you not? You are not going anywhere in this life and will never realize what potential you might have had, if you had potential, which you do not. Do you not realize the potential you do not have? Life? Realize. Potential? Do you not? A common house

Friday, March 16, 2012

Urban Survival Tips - Part 1

Most people are not prepared to deal with the realities of living in a gritty big-city environment. They're probably from the suburbs or from Iowa or the suburbs of Iowa or something. They look at the city and see a big playground. Well, those people are in for a rude awakening. The city is a very dangerous and hazardous place. Crime, greed, litter - these are the harsh realities of living in a punishing urban environment. Sometimes it's hard to think about, I know. You don't have to tell me, I've been walking these mean streets every day since I moved here five years ago, and it is no picnic. (Except on days when I have picnics.)

Do you have what it takes to survive here? Well, you should ask yourself a few hard questions. First:

Can you stand to ride on a subway?

Caught you off guard there, didn't I? I apologize for being so harsh and brutal in my line of questioning, but I'm a product of my environment. Besides, it's for your own good that I put you through this hellish self-examination; I want to save you the inevitable crushing of dreams and shattering of illusions that doubtlessly awaits you, lurking like a fat lion in this terrifying urban jungle wasteland.

That's right, I asked if you can bring yourself to ride on a subway. Let me walk you through this nightmare that city-dwellers such as myself have to endure on a sometimes daily basis. First, you have to get on the train. This is a draconian process, to say the least. You have to buy a card from a mindless automaton machine that relentlessly questions you about what kind of card you want to buy. If you make it through that, you have to pass through the "turnstiles", which should remind anyone with half a brain of NAZI GERMANY. If you make it that far, which I would say maybe 20% of you are fit to do, you are on the Platform.

The Platform is like Hell. There's an automated voice reminding you how long until the next train arrives - but it's up to you to know which train you want to catch! Good luck, sucker, you're in way over your head and there's no turning back now. There are seats usually available on the platform, sure, but they're not very comfortable. Read on, if you dare.

While you're waiting for your train, you may notice something quite disturbing and frightening. There are, like, a ton of other people standing all around. Most of them look like total dicks. Keep a cool head, because you're going to need it for what comes next. You've made it this far, which is a miracle, but now the train is pulling up. It is super loud. You wonder if your feeble mind can stand any more, and then the doors open! MORE PEOPLE come walking out of the train. It's really crowded, you're sweating a LOT, and you're expected to figure out how to get on this train while other people are getting off?!?!

Here's where most people lose it: getting on the train. Some never make it on, they simply clutch their knees and roll around on the ground, mewling and drooling, until city officials arrive to take them to a nearby Sanitorium. But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. I'm a hard-nosed toughman, but I still have a tiny shred of compassion whispering around in my empty, blackened insides. You have made it this far, and I think I owe it to you to reveal the most horrifying detail of this continually horrifying ordeal...

There is a GAP between the Platform and the Train. OK, just's OK if you need to throw up or bite through one of your fingers due to mental anguish. That's right, the train doesn't just pull up flush against the platform. There is a space big enough to fit your whole foot in!! (If you turn it sideways.) Watch The Gap? Heh. More like watch your MIND completely be torn asunder by shapeless black panic!! Get over that gap, and I may have a modicum of respect for you. But if you do make it (and I'm pretty sure you definitely have NO CHANCE of making it), nothing you faced so far can prepare you for the ghastly chamber you must now enter...


Thursday, March 15, 2012

Your JobHunters Account

Thank you for registering on, the newest and most premiere advancement site for placing current Job Lackers into uncompromising positions of excellence in the worlds of coefficiency and exactitude. If you are receiving this email, it is because you recently registered a JobHunters account! Welcome to JobHunters. You're probably going to want to get started right away on your Job Search, and begin making Contacts with eligible Employers who are looking for Prime Candidates to work and worry Ceaselessly. Let's start by getting to know you - you already know us!

Are you returning to work after having been laid off? Did something heavy fall on you and you are experiencing Decreased Workload Capacity? Are you looking to change Careers due to a need to flee the state you currently live in? Are you a house pet? If so, you need look no further. Your job search is potentially over! In fact, you might as well start planning your vacation and collection of imminent fat paychecks right now. Say it slowly. Look at yourself in the mirror and say it while you eat your breakfast cereal. It's ok if you spill some on yourself - everyone drops food out of their mouth from time to time! Repeat it several dozen times while you put your hands all over yourself. Enjoy the sensations.

Don't believe what your brain and all the people you know say about your prospects in Today's Tough Job Market and Totally Fucking Devastated (but Constantly Improving) Economy. You are your own best employee! You've never been unemployed at being alive, have you? You've never shown up late for making your heart beat or for having air push in and out of your lungs! You are far more dependable and trustworthy than anyone in the world gives you credit for.

We have infinite respect and admiration for your Potential. Please speak this AUDIO CAPTCHA directly into your computer's monitor: HARGREAVES OMINOUSLY. Sorry, please try again. We are very lonely at

Thanks again for registering an account at You are now that much closer to a career in which you do nothing. That's what you want to do, isn't it, you aimless son of a bitch? You just want to sit there and have a pulse and get paid, without having to do anything. You ungrateful fucking bastard. You want to live and be happy in this world without attaching something to your face and letting it suck your life directly into a paper shredder. Want to avoid having your life shredded by a paper shredder? Look no further. Stop searching. Avoid. The only bad thing that ever came out of a good, quality JobHunt is a sense that you are not worth anything.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Downloading Shit

"I download music/movies/_________ illegally but if I like it I'll buy it" - A Liar

Haha, no you won't. Why would you buy something once you already have it for free? Oh, to support the artist? I can see the logic behind that. Haha, no I can't. Do you also steal Tide from CVS and if it gets your clothes really clean you go give them money? I'm sorry, I'm just fucking with you - from what I understand, there are people who actually do this - download an artist's album or something and then make a donation if they like it. But you're not going to! I know you. You don't do things like that. You say things like that so you can get out of paying for things, that's what you do.

Like remember a few months ago when Louis CK came out with the video of his special at the Beacon theatre, available only from his site for $5? You stole that shit. I know you did! Dude I fucking know you did. Because Free is still better than Five Dollars. That's an immutable law. I learned that fuckin shit in 7th grade, in like, physics or something. Someone discovered that shit in the middle ages or whatever.

And when your friend's band came out with an album, and they put it up on the internet for sale, and you found a copy for free somewhere else on the internet? You downloaded that free shit. And on top of that, you secretly resented your friend (and, by proxy, his entire band) for having the nerve to suggest that you pay for what is essentially a free album. If he were a real friend, if he really cared about your opinion of his band, he would have sent you a download code for a free copy of the album, so you wouldn't have to listen to the shitty 192kbps MP3 version of it that you ended up with, and BESIDES, THE ALBUM ISN'T EVEN THAT GOOD. What a dick your fucking friend is.

And fuck movies though. You don't even begin to understand why someone would pay to rent or buy an actual physical copy of a movie. 2012, dude. Come on. Movie studios have tons of money! Tons of money. Movie stars. Production and shit. Plus they constantly are blocking off the street to film these piece of shit movies, and you can never find a parking space for your car. As far as you are concerned, movie studios owe you free movies, and possibly a free parking space. You should do that thing again where you eat some cheese and crackers out of the catering tent the next time you walk by it. And if you like the cheese and crackers, you'll mail a box of Ritz to Warner Brothers. IF you like it.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Hi, welcome to your nightmare

Hello, and welcome to your nightmare. If you'd like to have your balls murdered, please press ONE. (beep)

You have selected "Murder my balls". If this is correct, press ONE. (beep)

If you'd like to have your balls murdered while you sleep, press ONE. If your balls have already been murdered, and you'd like to arrange to have it look like they committed suicide, Log On to our Internet Web Site at and answer the questions provided. If you'd like it to look like one of your balls murdered the other one and then took its own life, Log On to our Internet Web Site at and answer the questions provided.


If you have a child, and I'm not saying that you should have a child, because you obviously shouldn't, but if you do, perhaps due to prophylactic malfunction or other mishap (sperm gun misfire while cleaning it and it's pointed at your vagina or your S.O.'s vagina), you should immediately teach it to play the guitar. This will provide it with a solid foundation for a life of not only financial stability, but artistic and aesthetic fulfillment, not to mention a skill that will set it apart from just about everyone else in the world. It definitely won't grow up in a sea of identical individuals that believe they are also unique and gifted, and certainly won't waste like 7 years learning to play the guitar while everyone else does, I don't know, whatever everyone else does that sets them up with a reasonable marketable skill for the rest of their lives. You should also teach them to ride a skateboard.


Welcome to Satan's Dentist Office waiting room. You have been provided with an 8-ounce can of Coca-Cola, for which you will be billed $3 USD.


I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I know what I'm talking about. Even if I did, probably no one would have read through that godawful block of text to get this far anyway. I'm working on a total overhaul of this site. It will consist, in the future, of photos to reblog, lists of things, and simulated humor.

It's nice out today, but I don't really like it when it's nice out, so for me it's not really that nice (to me). But it's, let's say, objectively nice. Great weather to pull up a stretch of barren earth and cook your face until it's a different color than it was when you first lay down (unless you have a face that remains unmodified by continued exposure to sunlight). Yep, just a nice day to put on some short shorts and let your ten-inch dick flop out of them, and walk around with your tongue hanging out of your mouth, and you know, get an iced coffee. Just fuckin juice up your brain with weak meta-amphetaminic chemicals and slop around with your fat ass plopping along behind you. Maybe grab a Monster or a Red Bull. Buy a dog and drag its miserable brainless body behind you, or walk slow and let it drag you. Fuck it, buy two dogs. Get the leashes all tangled and giggle and let liquid leak out of your mouth. Ride your bike to the beach and take a picture of yourself standing on the beach, with your bike in the background. Don't forget your fuckin sunglasses. Smile.