And so it goes . . .

27 06 2010

A strange night in this foul year of our lord. Not so much that anything has happened, no, not at all. The strangeness comes from within inside my head. And I am not saying that this is some whiny ass rant about how much life is terrible and every other bullshit thing that people piss and moan about. No, not here my good sir. If you want that kind of shit, go look up your typical spoiled rotten 15 year old American teenager’s Live Journal.

Anyway, enough of that nonsense. This strangeness I am referring to is like a surrealistic feeling that only so many experience and not particularly enjoy. It is one of those feelings you can’t recall any specific date, hell, you don’t even want to admit that you felt that way, but it’s there. Lurking in the shadows of your mind like some kind of serial rapist with a deformed member. I wish I was able to properly convey it in more simpler terms. I mean, how often can we get in that mindset of a rapist with a deformed member? Hopefully not at all. If you can then I think you need to speak to someone or just kill yourself and save everyone else the trouble you fucking fiend.

Where was I?

Right. There really is no way to convey how I feel but trust me, it is there. It taunts me and teases me that it won’t leave and let me think in peace. It is maddening to be honest; like “Full Moon Fever” inside my head. And I don’t mean the Tom Petty album. The kind of fever that the police and EMT workers murmur about. Naked people dancing in the streets and bleeding from self-inflicted knife wounds because it felt pretty good at the time. The type of behavior that would get someone locked up for a long time. But on these kind of nights this type of behavior is acceptable as one won’t suffer any long term jail time. Maybe a night in the cooling tank but not much else. Hell, they might even bypass bail if you offer a blowjob for everyone at the station who is willing to get a blowjob through cold prison bars.

I feel restless as usual too. I need to get out but I came up with nothing so I am sitting here typing like a madman. Totally “in the moment” as I type. No pause or rest, just typing whatever is churning inside my head at the moment. I wanna dip my balls in it. See? Totally in the moment there. I won’t accept it any other way.

I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I wish it was literal, that would be easier. I’d just kick the fucking walls back. But no, it has to be the metaphorical sense and it can’t be stopped. Goddamn fuckers. I wish I was able to just go out for a little while and see where it takes me. But having $2 in my pocket won’t get me far. Maybe a soda. Fuck soda! Doesn’t do anyone any good except for a flavor that we just know simply as, “soda.” And fuck whoever calls it “pop!” I find that annoying as it clearly says “soda” on the fucking bottle! The day I see it saying “pop” on the bottle then I will submit and refer  to it as such, but for now it’s fucking soda. Now that we got that out of the way let’s continue, shall we? Or not, you can go away if you feel. I’ll type a little bit more, thank you.

I feel like having a strong drink. But on the same token I don’t want the general miserable feeling it brings on the next day. I drank about twice this week and each time I felt fucking miserable the next day. Not even hungover! I just wake up in a foul mood and I want to stab someone or myself, which is morally easier at the moment I suppose. I’m not violent by nature but you get someone to a point that they could really care less. I guess stabbing myself would be sort of hilarious to explain. “Yeah I got mad so I stabbed myself.”  “So you slit your wrist?”  “Fuck no man! I stabbed myself! Like a dishonored Japanese man! Now lob my head off so my suffering ends!” *End scene*

I hope these walls stop eventually, I’m not the claustrophobic type but hot-damn I can’t breathe right now. Maybe it’s an oncoming panic attack or a heart attack. Either way, it’s an involuntary attack that my body feels it should do because it seemed like a good idea at the time. I seriously want to have a sit down with myself and ask why the fuck self “attacks” are a great thing to go through.

So yeah, I think my well is slightly spent, I need to refill it.


The D-Files (Douchebag)

9 04 2010

Sweet Jesus. The days are getting longer, the sun is shining a bit more brightly, birds are chirping their collective asses off. So you know what that means don’t you, kids? That’s right! The douchebags are coming! They’re already starting to infect the local beaches already from war front reports already. Thankfully, the weather won’t be too warm this weekend so that will keep those fuckers at bay for a little while. It just seems the seasons start way too early. We just get done cleaning up after those fucktwits and they come to rape the sands with their fist pumps and steroid shrunk penises. Some would akin this to pure gonzo rape and I would have to agree! I can sit here and blame the show “Jersey Shore” for the influx of douchebags. I won’t go there, that is too easy and c’mon, do we really need more shit about Snooki being cold cocked in the face? (click the picture if it doesn’t move)

Actually, even though it IS a girl, there is something sickly rewarding about this.

Chances are if you have stumbled upon this, you are fully aware of what a douchebag is. To the uninformed or those who have heard of this term and feel it is a feminine product, brother, you are dead wrong.

This ain't yo momma's douchebag anymore

NO! This is not what we are talking about here! Whoa no! Dear children gather around and see what abominations that have spewed forth on the once respectable seaside towns of New Jersey! Behold the douchebag that infects the world with their asshole ways and STD-laden fingers!

Ugh, look at them! God hates douchebags.

Now, I have studied these fiends for quite some time. In face I have personally dealt with them on a personal basis from working at a local bar. Here are the stats:

Name: Douchebag(s), Long Island Douchebag, North Jersey Douchebag, Guido, Fuckin guido, Bag of Douche, Douchearus Bagarus

Species: At one time human, now simply a bag. Of douche.

Height: They average around 5’3 to 5’10. The Italian gene has not been kind to them.

Lifespan: We have yet seen one live past 30 since this is a new species.

Origin: Northern New Jersey and parts of New York City. The biggest migration of this species hails from Long Island. Or as their bizarre speech (more on that later) dicates, “Long Giland”

Environment: The douchebag is at home at any place that plays loud, bass-thumping dance music. It can just be a fat man going “untz untz untz untz” into a microphone placed in his mouth. If it can be made into a dance song, it will be played and they WILL dance to it! Poorly I might add.


Physical Features: Fake skin that is tanned to the finest of assless chaps brown color, hair spiked like Sonic the Hedgehog after an orgy with Got 2 Be Hair Glue or Elmer’s if on a tight budget.

If Sonic was a douchebag

Muscular body that is usually aided by the way of steroids. A douchebag can not bother with spending time in the gym when he can be ripping the clubs up. If one sees a douchebag at the gym, they are there to try to impress someone. DO NOT BE FOOLED!

Seriously, WHAT. THE. FUCK!?

They also have the bizarre tendency to have lips in a permanent “kiss face” like a kissing fish or Derek Zoolander. They feel the need to do the “Magnum” or “Blue Steel” in every picture ever taken of them in their environment. This may either be a courting type of behavior or to ward off enemies, we are not sure as we are laughing too hard at them.

Dear God Ben Stiller, what have you done!??

They also wear clothes by a clothing line called Ed Hardy. If you are seen looking at a shirt that says, Ed Hardy, you will be shot on sight by our crack team of Douchebagologists. DO NOT even LOOK at an Ed Hardy shirt. It is to note that these shirts are worn at the the smallest size possible to fit their frames, I guess it is to make their muscles stand out? They also accommodate this with tight jeans that show the ill-effects of steroid use and the male penis. They also tend to wear obnoxious jewelry like silver/gold chains and other “accessories.”

Personality Traits: Loud, obnoxious, egotistical-like behavior that borders on the megalomaniacal. They always seem to have a smirky grin from an over-inflated ego when they are having a “good time.” Since the steroids are so infused in their blood they can snap at any given moment. Most of the time it is their cosmopolitan drinks in a plastic cup spill on their shimmery new Ed Hardy shirt (with a gold sequined tiger marauding a fish or some shit) that drive them over the top. Or if someone accidentally bumps into them while they are, “fish-pumping like a champion” on the dance floor. It is best to turn and move in the other direction when one sees a douchebag as their behavior and general aura is one that will suck a victim into the endless void of stupidity. Their dialect is a peculiar item as they interject syllables into words that make them sound entirely like new words! For example, you say “bathroom” they say “batchroom” What is a “batchroom?” I guess it is where cookies are made? We are still deciphering their bizarre language.

Yeaaaah, now dat's a batchroom youse guyz!

It is interesting to note that while dancing they do a strange type of . . . mating call? It is a bizarre arm flex called, “fist pumping.”

The man on the right may be his dad

Now apparently, this is a joyous gesture if they like a song. It is pretty much the white man equivalent of break dancing. The douchebag cares about their looks than most women do their entire lives. So they do not want to mess their hair up too much because, then what reason do they have to live? So the fist pump is as close to dancing as they get.

Now, what sort of person would be attracted to this kind of beast? Why, it is quite simple! The douchette!

May or may not have been a man at one point

Notice she exhibits the same, “Blue Steel” look anytime a camera flashes. And her skin looks as if it is the color of the finest mahogany furniture in Ron Burgundy’s apartment. You can pretty much apply the same traits to the Douchette, except that her breasts are made entirely out of plastic and chances are she will experience silicon leaking while dancing or even trying her hand at fist pumping.

Now that we have a more in-depth look at these fucking jokers, we know our mission. Your training is for this purpose. Polish the sniper rifles my loves, for we are hunting guidos this summer.

We shall avenge you, Sniper Cat

5 Cartoons That Make Me Long for a Time Machine

11 09 2009

Ahh, children’s shows. Who doesn’t have amazing memories of cartoons from their youth? They were an escape from reality, school, parents and the inevitable masturbation habit that would soon replace these beloved cartoon icons. Now, I was born in that foul year of the God’s 1981. I remember when cartoons were made for one thing, to sell toys. They weren’t out to teach me a lesson (that is what Eureak’s Castle was for).Eureaka's Muthafuckin Castle!Batley FTW!

No, cartoons of my youth were meant to sell me toys and to show how fucking awesome it was to be an animated animal/human/humanoid/cyborg/monster. When I look back on these cartoons it is easy to see that some have not aged well, nor even synched right half the time, or even the right fucking colors. That is neither here nor there, what we are here for is to see the awesomeness of cartoons of my youth! Let’s go! C’mon, let us run like wild rabbits!

#5.     He-Man and the Masters of the Universe

He-Man, paving the way to be gayIs it sexy in here or it just me? Ho, ho!

Yeah, yeah, get the gay jokes out of the way. Other than that, He-Man was the closest thing a kid could get to watching Arnold rip shit up as Conan the Barbarian, without the boobs and heads rolling like, well, heads rolling. I pretty much likened He-Man to Conan until I was able to actually watch the flick and realize they had no similarities other than muscular builds, ass-kicking and a chick you may or may not be attracted to but feel weird if you are not attracted to her. Ah-nuldI marry who? I’m the governor of what!?

The thing is, what wasn’t there to like about He-Man? The show had awesome characters, magic, demons and Skeletor. The comedy was sub-par at best and the one liners were nowhere near Ninja Turtle caliber, but it did the job. The animation was wonky as all hell and there was definitely questionable homoeroticism (dammit, gay joke) but the show was harmless enough and made boys want to be, well, it made us want to look like wrestler HHH when we got older.

Trips“Fuck a sword, I just need a water bottle!”

Not that there is anything wrong with being a barbarian. Just there are laws against beheadings and I don’t think society smiles on people in furry hot pants and boots, at least not those with a dick.

#4     X-Men

X-MENNot the only title to employ electricity *Spoiler*

Ah, yes, this was a great show. This fueled my comic collecting in full force when I was 10 or 11. X-Men wasn’t as serious as Batman The Animated Series but it still captivated kids with Wolverine being a badass and Gambit being a smooth motherfucker, so much so that I walked around acting like him and talking in a poor Cajun-New Jersey hybrid accent. Oh, and I was fat too, double trouble.

Gambit, sizzlin the ladiesYep, that was how I saw myself, except fatter . . .

The show also showed me that spandex suits wasn’t just reserved for wrestlers, oh no, it showed me the curves of the lady folk. Sure, they were drawn and animated but at the time it was the only thing I was able to watch that had tits. I had no access to porn and this was before the internet became available to the masses. So I developed bizarre crushes on the animated ladies of X-Men. My favorite was Rogue, the sassy Southern belle that sucked out people’s energy/mutant power/life in general when she made skin contact. She was my woman at the time.

RogueYep, melted me like butter on a griddle

Christ, I need to seek help.

#3     Batman: The Animated Series

Batman, na na na na na BATMAN!Shit, that lightning is getting close! Must. Scowl. MORE!

Honestly, this show was NOT made for kids, but fuck us back then, it was quality viewing! I watched an episode not too long ago and Batman helped a guy kick his drug habit in fuckin rehab! See, it was somewhat educational for the future junkie in all of us! Anyway, this was Batman at his finest after the 1989 Batman and before Chris Nolan’s Batman Begins and Dark Knight. All of the other Batman related items really didn’t do the Dark Knight justice (ha, slight pun). Others state that Batman Beyond was decent, but seriously, nothing holds a candle to the original Fox Kids run of Batman. The show had dark tones, very dark themes and Mark (motherfuckin Luke Skywalker!) Hamill as the Joker. This was also the introduction to everyone’s favorite sociopathic sex God, Harley Quinn. Something about a chick in a jester outfit . . .

Harley!Yeaaah, she can blow me up anytime.

Batman the Animated series showed us that Batman was more than a guy in a suit that made words like “PUNT!” “BOOM!” “SHAZAM!”  flash on the screen. No disrespect to Adam West, but seriously, that sent Batman back a few years. At least kids of my era had an idea of what a tortured soul Batman really was and that he was no more human than we were; you know, except for the whole parents murdered in front of us so we take our inheritance our father left us (in our case a Coke and a smile) and go on an insane life-long vigilante mission to rid the world of evil. . .

I’m lucky if I’m able to rid myself of hemorrhoids.

#2    Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Turtles!Donatello makes the save by covering Leonardo’s dick

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, the mecca of kids screaming in their parent’s faces when they wanted a new toy. What is there not to love about 4 mutated turtles who loves them some pizza, use kung-fu on ninja robots, use hip late 80’s slang like “Radical!” and “Tubular!” and take orders from a 6-foot Japanese rat? Jesus Christ, it sounds like a bad stoner flick doesn’t it?

Fuck you because it doesn’t! It was quality programming to make us want toys that we would end up breaking or lose to playground bets. Shit man, those were tough times running a dice game racket.

Craps!I remember it like it was yesterday . . .

The show had a way of infusing futuristic technology and ancient Japanese martial arts to make an amazing mix of kick-assery. (I hear by proclaim “kick-assery” an official word, by the by.) Anyway, most people would put this at the top of their list, not me. A buddy of mine and me were discussing that the later seasons kind of lost their luster. The first few were great but they really started to jump the shark after a while. And I could be wrong but I think the animation started to get lazy too with stranger ways of drawing the turtles and not a care as to how they looked. . .

TMNTYeah. Lazy eye confuses the best of us.

. . . maybe its just me.

And drum roll please. . . .

. . .

Oh for fuck’s sake.

*drum roll*




transformersFuck! We’re stuck in a middle school kid’s math grid paper!

This was the show of my youth. Giant robots that turned to vehicles and had epic battles on Earth. You all know the backstory to this diddy of a show. What makes this show stand out for me above all the others though? One crazy fucker is what defined the show for me:

starscream“It’s on like Voltron” or “Yep, in your sister AND your mother too!”


Without Starscream the show would not have been as awesome. There, I said it. He made the show for me, from his suspiciously sounding Cobra Commander voice (Why change the voice? Whatever gets the lil bastards buying toys.) to his ridiculous attempts to overthrow Megatron to which he successfully did in the movie and . . . well, we all know what happened there, ya greedy fuck.

Transformers showed up heroism and an equal amount of being an evil bastard. It had a nice balance to it that made all the characters likable to some degree. You can’t sit there and not tell me that once in a while you rooted for Megatron to fuck up Optimus and laugh that smokers laugh of his at a twitching Optimus Prime in his last moments. Liars.

Up yo ASSDoes he look like a bitch?

Now with the movies Transformers are all the fuckin rage again. But my heart still belongs to the original show where Megatron turned to a gun and Starscream used him to blow shit up. Thinking back on it, Megatron wasn’t shit without Starscream firing him. No wonder Megatron was paranoid as fuck about Starscream taking over. I’d be too if someone used my penis to fire at giant battling robots.


Punisher arrested

31 08 2009

August 31st, 2009

Reports have indicted that a man by the name of Frank Castle was taken into custody today after a 12 hour stand off with Orlando Police at Disney World. Mr. Castle, who was a decorated police officer himself  for the NYPD was sent over the edge years ago when his family was slain after witnessing a gangland murder. He went under the name, “The Punisher” and was a very unstable vigilante who took to extreme measures to punish those who he deemed as vile.

Fast forward to today, August 31st, 2009. It was supposed to be a huge celebration for Marvel Comics and Disney. They had just merged in a 4 billion (US Dollar) deal that would give Disney distribution rights to Marvel’s characters. While the deal had stated that Disney would stay out of the affairs of Marvel’s beloved characters, reports are emerging that it was not the case. The only character Disney had a problem with was Frank Castle himself. They felt a grown man who wielded more weapons than any terrorist organization and has a kill-rate that rivals car crash statistics was not suited for the new venture of Marvel/Disney. They stated that as long as the Punisher was handled they saw no problem with any other Marvel character, even Ghost Rider.

E-mails obtained by police from Mr. Castle’s laptop show that he was literally given an ultimatum by Marvel/Disney. He had to either clean up his act, check himself into a psychiatric ward and upon completion of therapy wear bright pastel colored clothes and call himself “The Hugger” or he would simply be fired. No retirement plans and no “Death of the Punisher” issue as it would be deemed too graphic for Disney standards. He would have to find work at rival DC Comics. This e-mail sent Frank into an even more murderous rampage than he already had, if it were possible.

Mr. Castle booked himself on a flight to Orlando today and apparently, according to Continental Airlines at JFK Airport, was less than thrilled when he was told he was not able to board right then and there. He then become irritable and called an airline employee at the gate, who remains nameless, a “Goddamn beer swilling, cocaine snorting whore.” She was dealing with her own problems as she found out her son was dating Perez Hilton and was the father of his controversial love child and she had let Frank on the plane. She was promptly fired, with no pay, not even a sandwich as a goodbye gift for being an employee for 23 years.

Continental reports that Frank was actually quite pleasant on the plane and there was no alarming situations. He did have a nervous quirk about sitting by the wing and muttered something about “Charlie” and “Nam” to the passenger next to him. Upon landing he promptly made his way to Disneyland. The reports are sketchy at this point, all the Associated Press knows is that Mr. Castle made his way into Disney World and promptly opened fire on every single Disney employee. He did not harm any children nor families. No one is sure as to how he obtained a weapon’s cache and brought it inside the park but the damage is done. The death toll is around 100 employees who died via gunfire, explosions, cotton candy machine suffocations, Capt. Hook’s hand, Jack Sparrow’s sword, decapitations, piano wire, etc.

Eyewitnesses report that Frank was screaming at the top of his lungs about Disney being a bunch of “goat rapers and fistfuckers.” What Mr. Castle failed to realize that the main offices of Disney are in California. So he was pretty much doing the equivalent of Star Wars when they blew up the Death Star in Return of the Jedi. He killed only workers who had nothing to do with anything and not the head honchos themselves. Mr. Castle was apprehended when the Orlando SWAT team had to subdue him with 10 tasers when he was reloading his AK-47 for the 15th time. They tried to open fire on Frank but eyewitnesses say he slowed the bullets down and literally danced through them. An eyewitness, Todd Stevens, a self-proclaimed speed freak proclaimed, “It was like, uh, Neo in the Matrix, man. Fucking, bullet time and shit.” He was the only credible source and the only one stupid enough to be standing there at the time. The SWAT team refuses to speak about the so-called, “Bullet time incident.”

Mr. Castle is now in police custody and is apparently strapped down and being fed an IV drip of morphine, codeine and valium to control his murderous rage. A sad tale for a beloved character who despite his actions was seen as an anti-hero, but a hero nonetheless. Mr. Castle can face the death penalty by being burned alive. Many are in fear of this because the ink he gives off is toxic in origin.

A day in the life of a post-apocalyptic dog

26 08 2009

January 10th, 2057

I really wish I knew how I can remember dates like that. It is not like I can really read or anything in that nature. I guess it is an effect from the nuclear blast that killed millions of people and about 10 Mexicans. I’m not sure were it happened and when, all I know is I woke up to eat some fucking kibble and my house was a gone except for a burned image of my owner in mid-kibble pour. At first I was pissed off at him for teasing me like that. I am a dog you know, I don’t exactly have the ability to go in the cabinet and get my own damned food. Then I realized it was just his body was incinerated and his image was on the wall. I had a good howling laugh at my own stupidity but then I wondered where the fuck my food was so I ate what was left of the cat. He was mutated into some kind of two-headed thing with no legs. Sort of looked like a worm. A tasty worm.

Anyway, fast forward, how ever long the fallout has been and here I am! I made the savage journey from New Jersey and I made my way to Flo-ri-da! What. Up. I have always wanted to visit Disney World, anytime I saw the commercials my little dog tail wagged and would beat the floor like a steady drum beat as the exciting images of Mickey, Donald and company waved me into their home of awesome! I also wanted to sniff Pluto’s ass. Maybe try to hump him in a confusing moment where his nefarious aroma would confuse my little doggy senses and I’d go to town on him in a very non-gay way. Then right before I would climax I’d realize my mistake and shuffle away as if I never met him before keeping my pimp status in tact. Yeah, I like the sound of that.

So, yeah, I fucking get to Disney World and the shit is gone as well! All that is left is half of the castle, a few tea cup rides and not much else. And Mickey and the others are smoldering piles of ash and fur! Fuckers. So I pissed on Donald and shit on Minnie. How dare they go and die without me seeing them in their glory? Florida is decent though, I never saw why people bitched about the heat so much, there really isn’t any heat at all! It is kind of chilly and I think I saw a polar bear, or maybe it was fuzz on my eyeball. That shit sticks to my eye like a molasses. The owner would try to get it out of my eye but he would just hurt me. He meant well I think. He had a weird thing with me and peanut butter, I didn’t understand it myself but hey, food is food.

I pretty much have been trying to find someone to take care of me. I have been doing fine on my own but I need the occasional belly rub here and there. I have found a few people but they were too busy trying to find food themselves and sort of turned violent and almost acted like how I act when someone touches my food bowl. I don’t understand why they can’t sniff a crotch or two, lick their nuts and call it a night. Thats what I do, hell, I’m licking between my legs right now. I’m talented that way.

Squidward reminds me of an old drag queen*

24 08 2009

Watching Spongebob and Squidward reminds me of an old drag queen that is well past his prime and is bitter at all the new “bitches in the game.” He also reminds me of myself when I am around the kids, I just want to be left alone for more than 3 seconds. Now the big question here is am I referring to myself as an old drag queen or do I just share the bitterness of one? Wonders never cease.

I am also waiting to get out so I can hit the liquor store for whatever ten bucks can get me. I don’t like beer though, if I want to drink, I want to drink and get drunk fast and not piddle around with beer. Also, it sort of tastes and smells like piss. Not that I ever drank piss mind you, but it is one of those smells that just goes up your nose and into all your senses and you’re just like “blarghg!” and you can practically taste the yellowy foulness of piss.

Annnnyhoo. . .

Not much to report from the front lines. Same ol bullshit as usual except I am really craving some kind of drink to get me through the night. Sort of pathetic if you think about it, that my entire mood is being roughly based on if I can drink later or not.

And no I do not have a problem, what of it!? I’ll stick ya motherfucker! Gut yo ass like a fish and play wit yo blood! *stab stab!*

Speaking of which, after much consideration I think that Christian Bale isn’t too far off from his Bateman character from American Psycho. I’m sure if he wasn’t acting he would be killing people in a hilarious manner while dancing to Huey Lewis. That is just me.

Does anyone read this shit? Please let me know. It is nice to know if anyone is reading this ridiculousness.