someday we'll all be robots...

Adios, Amigos! (Kinda.)

noreply@blogger.com ("Jayson") — Thu, 14 Jul 2011 16:31:00 +0000

...someday we'll all be robots has been laid to rest. No need to cry about. You and your friends can still virtually hang-out with me and my head at elgallogigante.tumblr.

See, that wasn't so bad.

Love you.

S.W.A.B.R. - Speak, See, Hear No Evil

noreply@blogger.com ("Jayson") — Thu, 23 Jun 2011 21:47:00 +0000

If you happen to spot a robot or their likeness, please forward your findings to S.W.A.B.R. at the following address: ElGalloGigante@gmail.com

God Doesn't Need Your Help to Hate

noreply@blogger.com ("Jayson") — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 01:34:00 +0000

In case you haven't noticed, New York lawmakers are battling over whether their great state will become the sixth and largest state to legalize gay marriage or not. The measure, supported by the state's governor, Andrew Cuomo, has already been given the okay from the state's Assembly and is currently being debated amongst its Senate. With polls consistently showing a majority of New Yorkers support the legalization of gay marriage, what's left to debate?

Oh, you know, the whole "What Would God Think" thing which continues to be so effective at curtailing any inroads to equality here in the good, ol' U.S. of A. New York Senator Mark Grisanti, sums it up for me here perfectly:

(emphasis mine)
"If I take the Catholic out of me, which is hard to do, then absolutely they should have these rights ... it has nothing to do with politics. It has to do with my own personal beliefs."

To Sen. Grisanti's credit, he is now officially "undecided" on the issue after opposing the legislation for several months. Clap. Clap. Clap.

I know Sen. Grisanti is a Catholic and I know a lot of faithful Christians oppose the legalization of gay marriage on the grounds that they believe it offends God and corrupts the Almighty's idea of a family, but
can we seriously stop trying to appease someone who might not even exist (fuck you, I know you've thought about it before)? I mean, we won't even know if the Creator is real until we die, so why sweat the interpretations of His rules at the expense of living, breathing Americans today over the promises of mansions and golden streets "tomorrow?" Seriously, that's some 72 virgins shit.

I am a believer, I swear to you I really am, but I'm also an American, and as an American I've been told my whole life that we don't shit on our own kind, that we believe in liberty for all, and that although we believe in "god," we won't get hung up on how or if you chose to worship him, or her, or them. When did it get so twisted? When did we start putting our own interpretations of some deity's will over the happiness of our fellow citizens? I mean, that has to be a sin somewhere, right? I know in my faith, Old Testament God was no joke, but His Son came and chilled Him out and departed us with this little nugget: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

Who here likes being hated on?

Yeah, didn't think so.

We'll all get our comeuppance when our time expires, or maybe we won't, but in the meantime I implore you to just live and let live. Please, we only get one shot at this life, so how about we don't spend it making others suffer?

The "gays" and their plight for equality are not going to ruin your life, I guarantee it, so please support the legalization of gay marriage in New York and throughout the rest of our great country, fellow American. It really is the right thing to do.

Quote lifted from "All Eyes on NY as Pressure Mounts for Gay Marriage" by Michael Hill, AP

Unintentional Break: Over

noreply@blogger.com ("Jayson") — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 14:50:00 +0000

Kinda.

"I'm sorry I haven't posted here in such a long time, but" blah, blah, blah. I'm actually okay with the fact that I haven't written anything here in ages, and I'm sure you are too, but I needed to add that line in hopes of finding my way onto Cory Arcangel's reblog titled, Sorry I Haven't Posted. Cross your fingers.

Moving on, I took some time to read over my previous posts and came to the conclusion that although, to an extent, they are a representation of me, they represent an extreme part of my personality; A little too hateful, much too curse-riddled, and generally pressing. I'm not unhappy with them, but it's not really what I want to wade into again.

I thought about yet another new direction for this site and a purge of yesteryear's musings (i.e. originally a politics blog that gave way to an aimless rant blog), but I honestly don't have any real idea of where I want ...someday we'll all be robots to go, so there's not really any reason to erase everything and start from scratch. What I've found is that with the summer heat arriving earlier than expected, I've taken a break from my outdoor pursuits and therefore write less at my other, outdoorsy site.

Like any good narcissist, I still want to share my thoughts and adventures with others, so I figured I'd fire this puppy up once again and just shoot from the hip going forward.

Here goes nothing.

Unintentional Break

noreply@blogger.com ("Jayson") — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 14:44:00 +0000

If you've been following along for the last couple of weeks and maybe, just maybe started to expect the three post I was cranking out a week, then surely you've noticed my week long hiatus. I'll be getting back into the groove here shortly, but a little life event sidetracked me. I recently picked up a stray the other day and a group of us have been caring for it while we figured out what to do with it. The plan was for me to keep the little bugger, but once he was identified as a pit bull puppy, I had to find him a new home (he's not "Lease Friendly"). We found a new spot for him to grow up and live out his long, long days yesterday, but the little fucker left a void that we need to fill.

I've been calling and searching shelters all week and have found a dog to take home. Once this guy gets settled in, I'll get back on my blog horse and we'll continue our rad adventures together. Deal? Deal.

Adios, suckers, and if you're feeling like a doing something nice, and you're a fuckin' grown-up who can handle your shit, how about you adopt a dog? A black one at that? Right on.

I Don't Want To Hear It III

noreply@blogger.com ("Jayson") — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 14:48:00 +0000

Good day to you! How has you week been? How was your weekend? Was it everything I said it would be, or did you waste it away again? You wasted it away again, didn't you? Good job, dickhead, I'm sure your parents are proud that they raised a sloth for a child. You know you ruined their lives, right? But "fuck 'em," you didn't ask to be born into this world! It's not your fault that you turned out to be such a degenerate, it's theirs. You're not going to let their short comings fuck with your life, your mood, and your day, right? Of course not! Today is a wonderful day in your life and, parents be damned, you're going to enjoy it to the fullest! Well, you might enjoy it to the fullest if you can successfully navigate around these landmine-type of people who are waiting to spring forth from the ground and cut you right in half, guts all laid out before you, blood gurgling out of your mouth, ears ringing, and your legs laying motionless six feet away. Fade to black, the end has come. You've been warned.

The New-Age Man

So you're into "Unicorn Philosophy" and "Communalism," huh? You're not into violence and "The System," right? You're basically a fuckin' pussy, correct? I don't want to hear some aging faggot tell about the world and how I need to let love into my life, because chances are this cat is either trying to cruise me or is realizing he is going to fucking die soon; so he's grasping to whatever idiotic, youthful bullshit he can easily exploit. I really don't want to hear some twenty-something spit the same bullshit about dumpster diving and thrift store shopping when her parents are footing the bill for her Boho flat, MacBook Air, and $26K+ yearly tuition cost. Eat my dick. You want to show up to class without shoes on, looking like Emile Hirsch in Into the Wild, then knock yourself out, homeboy, but don't get all huffy-puffy when no one takes you serious. You're not living in a gutter and you're not thumbing-it across the country searching for yourself. You are trying to get laid and think that by literally resembling a piece of shit, some poor girl is going to think you're "deep" and "interesting" and actually allow you to put your little, pink boner inside of her. You're basically equal to the frat boy, meat heads you so detest, except they pressure a girl into fucking them while you guilt her into fucking you. Rapist.

The Music Miner

I'm pretty sure you're a living, breathing human-being, so I'm assuming you enjoy music. Who doesn't, right? Great. Listen to whatever the fuck your little heart desires; if I don't like it, I'll simply leave. No harm, no foul, we like different shit. Some people can't grasp that simple concept though. They try to blast you about how your shit is played and how it's totally mainstream now, and "the only real music is some ultra-underground kazoo music that is only available on cassette, here, listen man." 'The fuck!? The music I enjoy is suddenly shit because the dudes that made it got paid? Isn't that the fucking point? I enjoy Ra Ra Ruby Castles Deer Scene as much as the next "hip" cat, but only because it's actually enjoyable to listen to. There is just as much shit Indie tunes out there as there is shit Pop. If you're so consumed by only listening to the most obscure music available the same way God is so consumed by hating fags, then why not get into other obscure scenes? I hear that only about a few hundred people lie down in front of trains. Why not start there?

The Name-Dropper

Holy Mother of God does this cat get on my fucking nerves. You're cold chillin' at the spot with your friends; just enjoying life and having a grand time. Your boy, Will, rolls up a little later and he's got a tag-a-long. No sweat, Will is a good guy so this cat he's with must be on the up-and-up too, right? Wrong. This guy is a name-dropper and desperately seeks your approval. You see, a name-dropper is a person who is so fucking boring, who lives such an incredibly shit life, that the only way he can socialize is by telling you about all the rad shit other people he supposedly hangs with do. This bitch will run his mouth all night long detailing the time that "Johnny" and him got completely shit-faced while backing up the Big Bopper, which is insanely tight because "Johnny" is a sick banjo player from East Fuckatal, Kentucky and had no business playing with Liza Minnelli at the Grand! He'll have a million of these stories, and you won't know any of the assholes he is gleaming on and on about, but he'll be sure to let you know that those assholes are hot shit by linking them to some other fuck face who you don't know but "helped Edgar Allen Poe pen some short stories, and shit." Whoa, man, you must be rad, because you know this guy and allegedly had rad adventures with him! Here's my wife, fuck her, I'd be honored!

The Boss Clone

If you've ever worked for money, then you know who I'm talking about. This motherfucker is your Boss' buddy, even if your Boss doesn't know it. There will always be brown-nose types at any place you work, people with so little self-respect or so consumed with ambition that they would literally cup your Boss' nuts with one hand so their chin stubble doesn't irritate the big man's balls while they tongue flick his shitter. I can live with that, for the most part, but it's when these bottom feeders roll up to your workspace and start pretending they're hot shit. "What's up, buddy?" Nothing, working. "Cool, cool. Are you going to have those spreadsheets ready by this afternoon?" Gee, I think so, since it's my fucking job and I've been doing it for umpteen years. "Cool, cool. Yeah, the big man really appreciates your efforts." Oh, thanks, I wasn't aware that you spoke for him. "Go ahead and take lunch at noon, I'll cover ya." So kind of you, I mean, I only take lunch at noon everyday, but good to know I have your approval. "Fist bump!" Nah, I'm typing, but thanks. What the fuck, really, does pretending to tell people what they're already going to do really help you sleep at night? Are you somehow on your way to a promotion? You're a fucking clown, we all hate your guts, and if we wouldn't be fired for it, anyone of us would gladly put you through a plate of glass the next time you interrupted us from actually working. This is why you're never invited out with us after work for drinks, oh, that and the fact that the Boss Man doesn't want you to know he's out with us too.

Do This - The Weekend II

noreply@blogger.com ("Jayson") — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 14:54:00 +0000

Here you stand, at the end of the Week, still wondering how you can enjoy your life to the fullest before the Week returns again to suckle from your soul. As Voltaire once stated, “Life is thickly sown with thorns, and I know no other remedy than to pass quickly through..." snooze, snooze, snooze. 'The fuck does Francois know about this modern world we're living in? Ole boy has no clue about all the ridiculous time-sucks that you and I are faced with daily. Shit, how many of you have yapped on and on to your buddies about all the rad shit you're going to get into once Friday night rolls around, and instead you find yourself on the dark side of Sunday night wishing you hadn't slept in until 4pm each day after a night of watching rented flicks? Older generations are laughing in our fucking faces every time we roll into Taqueria Chapala Jalisco's for breakfast at 5pm. Laughing. In our. Fucking. Faces. Well enough of that, right!? Who do those old ass punks think they are!? Fuck 'em, this is what we'll do this weekend!

Jam With Some Friends

Everyone dreams of being a rock star at one time or another. I know that now-a-days Pop Culture is all over this so we're bombarded with Insta-Sleeves Valley Grrrrls, the twentieth version of Rock Band (Rockabilly Nü-Metal Edition), and the continual air-play of one-of-the-worst-songs-ever. I'm a grown ass man, so I know my days of shredding riffs alongside Paul Gilbert will never come, but I can't think of a better way to spend this weekend. Everybody knows a couple of guys that play this or that, or hell, you might have an actual working musician friend who lives next door to you and bought your moped off of you a while back, but was thinking about selling it, so he rings you up to let you have first dibs on it, but you talk him into keeping it, because you and your girlfriend still want to borrow it every once and a while. Either way, lean on those buddies this weekend; they're probably itching to play anyways.

Don't worry if you already have plans or can't organize a jam session with such little notice. Just bring your instrument with you to your pal's house and be all, "Say, I brought my guitar, wanna go in the garage and fuck around a bit?" At first he'll be all, "Nah, my girl really wants me to be a good host this time and mingle," but give him another beer or two and soon he'll be telling you that you're fucking up the bridge, so let's take it from the top again. You'll have a little crowd gathered around you; first the smokers, then the smokers' friends who are looking for them, then your girlfriend and her friends, and then before too long everyone is just grooving out on a different plane with one another and you're feeling like the fuckin' Sun, just beaming!

Once things begin to wrap up, you and the guys will start recounting the fresh times you all synced perfectly, the nasty solo homeboy ripped off that caught everyone by surprise, and how ya'll should do this more often. You'll make promises, they'll make promises, but neither of you will get together again to play until I write about it again in a few months. God do we suck.

I Like - A Guide II

noreply@blogger.com ("Jayson") — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 16:41:00 +0000

As you learned last week, the world is filled with all kinds of choices that can have a huge impact on your quality of life. A couple of bad decisions and who knows, your ass could be getting passed around in a federal prison while you suffer from Hepatitis C (ha ha, just kidding, you'll probably have AIDS) just because you decided to take your car to the store instead of your bike. Sounds crazy, but it's not. Let's say you ignored all of last week's advice - you drove your car while wearing a pair of cargo shorts, where you decided to store your hand-gun in one of its many pockets, while getting a root-beer float from O'Ronald's. On the way back from O'Ronald's, you hit a bump and spill your root-beer float onto your lap, instinctively you divert your eyes from the road to survey the damage, and WAH-KA-TA! You just mowed over a family of four! Oh-my-god, oh-my-god, oh-my-god! You hop out of your car to their aid (they're dead) and frantically search for your cell phone within the cavernous storage area your shorts provide. While searching for your phone, a couple of cops pull up to assist, but you accidentally set off your pocketed gun and the bullet whizzes by one cop and into his partner's head! Holy smokes, you killed a cop!!! You're going to PRISON, kid, you're life is forever ruined, and your asshole has seen its last days of elasticity.

Is getting raped by a broomstick handle your idea of a good time!? No!? I didn't think so. So once again, if Life gives you choices and one of those choices is listed here, pick it.

Motorcycles

Thank your lucky stars if Life is so grand as to give you the opportunity to ride one of these divinely-bred stallions. Now, because this post is fashioned to be a guide that helps you maximize your satisfaction with Life, I feel like I should warn you. Not all motorcycles are created equal. Black ones are not as smart, but agile and fast. Asian ones are reliable, but lack personality. Gay ones are exciting, but prone to ending their relationship with you violently. I kid, I kid, I kid! Basically, if you want to get a motorcycle but don't want to be a Biker or a Biker Boi you should buy an old classic. Personally I chose a '70 Honda CL350, like the one pictured above. I can ride the bike without a leather vest and prison tats or without sideburns and a tribal armband, and that means a lot. Check out the classifieds, Craigslist, or a manufacturer's website. I know Triumph Motorcycles makes a few classically styled new bikes that are mildly affordable and are easy to maintain. Oh, and it's awfully hard to kill a family of four after spilling your float while operating one. Big time bonus, on the real.

Topsiders

In keeping with the "we're adults, so let's dress like one" theme I laid out last week, here's a pair of kicks that you should sport more often. Like Bermuda shorts, a slick pair of topsiders can be worn with just about anything a respectable man would wear. I don't care if you didn't grow up wearing Brooks Bros. and sailing off the coast of Maine because fuck knows I didn't. I did, however, grow up learning from the Old Man that you can never go wrong if you stick to the classics. Like the classic bike, an '83 Porsche 911, or a pair of Wayfarers, a worn pair of topsiders will never go out of style. Think of them as the footwear equivalent of the classic blue blazer, a cornerstone of any man's wardrobe. Socks, no socks, shorts, khakis, jeans, clam-diggers, shit son, is there anything these bad motherfuckers can't be paired with? Yeah, "street-wear." But that shit is for clowns (Loose fitting? Check! Brightly colored? Check! Gaudy accessories? Check! Yep, you're a clown).

Mexican Coke

Coca-Cola would like for you to believe that there is no perceivable difference between the taste of an American, high fructose corn syrup Coke and a Mexican, real cane sugar Coke, but what would you expect them to say? "Yeah, the Coke we sell here in the States is shit, but it's cheaper to produce so drink up!" Get the fuck out of here. This one is pretty simple to cover; if you like Coke (or Pepsi) and you're staring at two bottles of it, grab the one that displays "Hecho en Mexico" on the label. Our brothers to the south of us may have trouble controlling the narcotics industry and they haven't quite nailed down safe public water systems, but god-damn do they make a mean bottle of Coke! And burritos. And tacos. And lucha libre masks. And Ford vehicles. And...

Large SUV

The fuck is wrong with you!? Outside of the military and the scientific research community, there is no reason for anyone to own anything bigger than, what, a small sports utility vehicle like an Escape or CR-V? Even those are pushing it. Seriously, chill the fuck out with the status symbols, people, you still have a tiny dick/floppy tits and nobody is thinking anything positive about you when you roll by them on the expressway. There is not one argument you can make for owning one of these American Excess vehicles. I triple dog dare you to make one.

I Don't Want To Hear It II

noreply@blogger.com ("Jayson") — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 14:15:00 +0000

Although I hate the thought of extinguishing the positive vibes this past weekend was sure to have generated - the harsh fluorescent overhead lights, the not-quite-comfortable chair, and the partially empty caffeinated drink on your desk mean that you, my friend, are at work (it's Wednesday for fuck's sake, of course you're at work) and your absolutely spectacular weekend has passed. While steady workin' on your grind, avoid these guys, because like all the cats depicted under this title, they'll send you reeling into Bummersville.

The Enlightened Student

So you learned something new in school today, huh? Who fucking cares. Seriously, is there anything more mind-numbing than listening to some asshole wax on and on about how brilliant Cockdosky writes or that because of the research conducted by Dr. Knowan Kairson, something, something, something-or-another is possible? I say, no. I hate to break it to you, but unless you're really getting into some Doctorate shit, you're basically learning the bonus material that everyone else paid to access after high school. Sure, I don't know dick about some upperclassmen math theory that is vital for a Math major to know, but I didn't pay for that bonus material, only some gazillion other assholes did (mostly assholes from Eastern Asia and India). Then again, the dude in Nonlinear Dynamics II: Continuum Systems is not telling you he now knows how the universe works, because he's busy busting his chops back home studying for a final. It's the clown in Intro to Philosophy that is making you day dream about killing his family in front of his stupid face. So, please, don't be that clown. You should feel great about going to school and bettering yourself, that's high-five worthy everyday of the week, son, but just keep it real by remembering that you're getting the same-knowledge-millions-of-other-people-doing-the-right-thing are getting too.

The Long-winded Comedian

"So three guys walk into a bar - a Jew, a Puerto Rican, and a Ni-um-Black guy..." Whoa, whoa, whoa there, David Duke, let's not go down that path, okay? Actually, you know what, how about you keep your jokes to your-fucking-self? I've never heard a joke outside of my tight-circle of friends that was actually funny, nor have you, so do you really think the one you're about to tell me at the office is any different? It's not, seriously, so please just go back to your desk and continue reading my blog. You're not special and the same bullshit sympathy laugh you give when Fred in Accounting tells you a joke is the one we're all giving you when you corner us in the break room. Stick to "Knock-knock" jokes, we'll at least give you some credit if they're original.

The Sports Guy

You know that douche who always has something stupid to say after one of the sport teams you follow collapses? You know the guy, he's a "born and raised," fifth generation Cleveland-ite, but roots for the Yankees, the Cowboys, and the Bulls? Well, I don't like that guy, and not just because that guy happens to be LeBron James, but because that guy will never shut up about how amazing his teams are while you suffer through another season backing the Oakland Raiders. Look, you can root for whomever the hell you so choose, but you're automatically a cunt if you have no ties to a team that plays some 2000 miles away from you. Furthermore, you're basically the Voltron of cunts if you're constantly running your mouth about how good your teams are, because guess what, we and the rest of the world already know how good they are. It's no surprise to us that the greatest basketball player to ever walk the Earth played for your Bulls, so what do you expect to debate? We already know that the Yankees have, like, 20 more championships than any other team, so you're what, just reminding us? Yeah thanks, and it's helpful to breathe air too, huh? And yes, we also know that the team we're following just loss its 13th consecutive game, but at least no one is wishing I contract AIDS like I'm wishing you do right now.

The Spoiler

"Yo, you have to go see New Big Movie, it's insane, bro!" Oh yeah? "Yeah, there's this great car chase, it's pretty stellar!" No shit? "Yeah, and Bill Murray makes an appearance in it, totally cool!" Oh, okay well save som... "They totally kill his ass like 15 minutes later, but it doesn't ruin the story." Oh, okay, well... "And the fuckin' CG sea monster that sinks the ship is straight nuts, man, straight nuts!" Whoa, well I'd like to see the... "You think that John Travolta's character is not going to save whoever Audrey Hepburn is playing, but damn bro, he does!" Yo, I'd like to see this, man, can you chill? "Oh, yeah, my bad." Thanks. "Oh, but real quick, the mysterious, clandestine organization called 'The Smegma' is behind the whole thing and Travolta is actually Hepburn's father! Time travel, son! Time travel!"

Thanks, dick.

Do This - The Weekend

noreply@blogger.com ("Jayson") — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 20:45:00 +0000

The Weekend is here and I'm sure you have plenty of exciting things to do. You'll do that one thing with those one friends and get drunk and high and forget to call your mom - who loves you and only wants to make sure you're doing alright, but you're such a selfish piece of shit that you can't break off 10 minutes from doing nothing to give her some peace of mind. Once Monday has come, you'll be greeted by your classmates or coworkers who will be all, "How was your weekend?" And you'll be all, "It was good," or maybe drop some tired, "Too short!" on them for a cheap smile. But then the reality sinks in once you've made your way to your desk, you'll think back about your weekend, discover that it was completely routine and lame, and promise yourself to make the coming weekend a memorable one. What a fucking waste, huh? Well, fuck all that, because I've prepared a thoughtful suggestion that can help you give the office or classroom a finger this afternoon and head confidently into what will be an absolutely spectacular weekend.

Fight Somebody

Now I'm not advocating senseless violence, but I do feel it would be a wise decision to fight someone this coming weekend. Call it what you want, but there is no better way to feel "alive" than getting into a tussle with another human being. Now, don't be an idiot and start some shit with the guy down the bar from you who keeps looking over at you girl, that kind of fight is one you'll ultimately lose; you'll probably get your ass severely kicked, possibly get stabbed and die, surely be arrested whether you're victorious or not, and lose your girl because she'll think you're some kind of Neanderthal and watched you get pummeled right before her big, blue eyes (if you're a girl, you man might actually keep you around for a time, but will surely be intimidated by your fighting prowess and leave you for that one gal he always talks about because she has such great taste in music, "like you, babe").

What I'm suggesting is a friendly rumble with a friend of yours. It doesn't have to be vicious, but do try to hurt each other, to ensure that you'll pass the line of "Just Playin'" into "What the Fuck, Bitch!?" Go ahead and find some gloves if you're really worried about hurting one another or grab eight pairs of tube socks, roll up four of them, stuff those four in the other four, slip them on your paws, and have at it. Whether you win or lose, you'll get an insane, incomparable rush, become closer friends afterwards, and find out that you're not made out of glass. Enjoy the new confidence and 3 inches to your pecker or suddenly perkier tits.

Oh, don't get stupid with the idea and make up an alter-ego who digs in bio-waste dumpsters and dresses like a homeless tranny. That shit is weak. Enjoy your weekend and I want to see some post-fight pics come Monday morning. Bueno bye!

I Like - A Guide

noreply@blogger.com ("Jayson") — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 15:10:00 +0000

In a world where we are confronted with ever increasing choices to make, I've decided to do the right thing and make a handy, reoccurring guide that can simplify some of those tough decisions out there for you. Basically, if one of your choices matches the things I have listed here, you should choose it, for each of these products or experiences satisfy me and will surely satisfy you.

Bicycles

Man really out did himself with this delightful little contraption. Invented in the 1800's, bicycles have blah, blah, blah, blah. All you need to know is that bikes are a) Rad, b) Featured in a film titled "Rad", c) Can transform you into a rad individual, who knows things about books, film, music, sustainable food systems, and party photography/DJing.

Or, they're a great way to get around, cost almost nothing to operate, can help you get in shape, and come in too many shapes and sizes for you not to fall in love with one.

DISCLAIMER: You may find that some bicycles are not for you but look really cool; I suggest finding a bike that is enjoyable to ride first, then appealing to look at second. You're not a bike messenger, you're not a professional cyclist, and you're not a tri-athlete, so don't be a bonehead and buy what they ride.

Bermuda Shorts

We're all adults here, right? So how about we start dressing like one. A good pair of Bermuda shorts can go with just about anything up top and in a place like San Antonio they can be worn almost year-round. Plus, if you made the decision to ride a bike like I suggested, then you'll realize you can still show up to your destination looking dapper and not like you just finished a race or came from the gym. Look at JFK in the picture above; does he look like he's having a good time or what? Bermuda shorts made that smile possible. Go for something with a flat front, in a neutral color, and with about a 9-10" inseam. That bike will give you the legs, so show them off, Sport.

Malted Milkshakes

Take a milkshake, add malted milk powder, and BAM! You've got a delicious treat. I've always been a big fan of milkshakes, and who isn't, but recently I was turned on to the wonders a packet of malted milk can do to what was basically the only ice-cream type dessert I enjoy. Yeah, I don't like ice cream. It sucks. This stuff, however, does not (well, technically it does, but quit being an asshole by pointing out the obvious, you dick). So throw on some Bermuda shorts, jump on that bike of yours, and head on out to have a malt some place cool, like where your waitress is all rockabilly styled and probably has a girlfriend.

Guns

Just kidding. Guns are only for army men, homophobes, rappers, and Islamofascist terrorist now-a-days.

(Sorry Hunter, I'll make it up to you.)

I Don't Want To Hear It, Part One

noreply@blogger.com ("Jayson") — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 15:05:00 +0000

We're all unique snowflakes with something unique to say. We all have unique experiences that we all would like to share with our friends, family, or the world. I'm Tweeting and Blogging for goodness sake, so I get it. It's nice to be able to speak to an audience about the happenings of my unique life and read/hear about the unique happenings going on in your unique life. I'm on board, my ticket is punched, so for me to complain about what I've prepared to say while participating in the whole "Share-Your-Perspective" program along side of you is a bit on the hypocritical side, but I don't give a fuck if I come off as a hypocrite. So without further ado, here are four people I wish would just shut the fuck up already.

The Politics Pusher

"Whoa now, huh? Didn't your past blogs and even this upstart dabble in nothing but politics?" Yeah, it did, on maybe, what, a monthly basis tops? I love politics and I'm sure most of you do too; that's fine and dandy, and in my opinion, a wonderful topic to discuss. What I'm not an advocate for is the guy who rolls up to your office all, "hey, did you hear about Nazi Pelosi saying she not only supports killing unborn babies, she also supports generating income to finance Welfare by selling off the discarded fetus to pet food makers? Washington needs to change!" Seriously, you've wasted my time to tell me something that fucking ridiculous and expect me to what, discuss this further with you? Here's some truth, asshole, you're not changing Washington or even your local government by incessantly pestering me with whatever garbage you just heard on Politics Now with Johnny Cuntlips. I don't give a fuck if you're telling me Health Care reform is this close to being passed or that Obama is from Tajikistan or you just heard that Global Warming is a hoax. Do you know why? Because you told me this shit everyday now since Election Night 2008. I know where you are coming from already and you should know where I am on the political spectrum by now too. A constant update about everything ever said on Capitol Hill or by those who cover it is not going to drastically change my political beliefs, nor should they change yours. If you are that easily swayed, then we're probably not friends, so, yeah, I didn't really want to do this here, you know, so public, but I think it's best we never see each other again. Take care of yourself, you'll be missed. But not really.

The Proud Parent

Kids are awesome and all that jazz, but parents, didn't we all hate them? Yeah? Yeah. So by extension, you know we all hate you now, right? There is a fine line to walk here, because sometimes a story about your kid(s) can be amusing, namely the stories where you child totally fucks up your day and we're all having a laugh about it. Those stories fucking rule. You know what doesn't rule, stories about how your kid got a third place ribbon at his first karate meet, or how your kid wiped his ass for the first time last night. Stories like that are impossible to sit through, and you know it, but there you are telling all your friends or coworkers about the most mundane shit ever. What an asshole you are, and I hope you think about that when little Mahkenzee calls you a bitch and wishes you would die while giving you the finger from the other side of her bedroom door. She's only echoing our sentiments.

The Witness

Look, I get that God is awesome and He reigns from Heaven above, with wisdom, power, and love, yeah, yeah, yeah, your God is an awesome God. But you know who is not so awesome? You. You're actually a pretty shitty person and if I were God, I'd actually be a little upset over the fact that you're out there making Me look bad. I mean for My sake, can you flush the fucking toilet after you use it and not slap My fish on the back of your ride as you cut that guy off? You're not doing Me any favors and your office mates are getting pretty tired of those holier-than-thou speeches you give them daily, because they know it was your floater in the restroom and it was one of them you cut off. They might be heathens and don't get Me like you think you do, but I'm okay with that. Really.

The Web Shepherd

From: xXMystikEyezXx [mailto:xXMystikEyezXx@IFWGarbageEveryday.com]
Sent: Tuesday, February 16, 2010 9:42 PM
To: "Contacts"
Subject: Fw: I'm STILL laughing

Some lame joke or picture with a bunch of colorful text and an old lady GIF to wrap it up.

I know the Internet is amazing and I know email is soooo fucking cool, but I don't want to hear about this touching email you received about a girl who lost her parents, then her arms, then her will to live so you forwarded it to me so I could read what you just told me and forward it to everyone I know because this is going to show that girl that we all really care about her and Microsoft is going to give us checks because we tested out Outlook 9 in the process of saving this girl even though we're using Macs, but look at how these people at Wal-Mart dress, they're so funny and could really use those checks from Microsoft. I also don't want to go to your office and stand behind you while you try to find that one website that had that really funny video of two guys doing that one funny thing. I sift through the web everyday without your assistance, so how about we talk about something interesting, like my blog?

SWABR Has Been Re-Booted!

noreply@blogger.com ("Jayson") — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 21:48:00 +0000

If you've been looking at SWABR recently (and I wouldn't know why, with its last update coming before Obama was in office), then you'll notice all the Posts from Christmas Past have gone the way of the Dodo. In their place, I'll be using this site as an addition to my Twitter account (@ElGalloGigante) to take you beyond the 140 characters that struggle to completely convey my brilliance.

Yep, sounds good to me.