The Nothing Report

That's Just... Special Needs?

2011-10-12T09:22:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, we used to call each other names, like butt-head, momma's boy, and dingle-berry (those little chunks of poop that hang to the hair on your sphincter). We said things like, "I know you are, but what am I" and the other kid would try to say something new, as to expand their vocabulary skills. Some people said those things to make others feel bad, some people like me used to say them just to get a laugh out of everyone else, but most of the other kids used those words primarily to hear the words themselves come out of their mouth, as if it was some sort of a rite of passage into becoming an adult. Nowadays, I don't really think it's all that different. We call each other fagot, retard, nigger, spic, cracker, fat-ass, bitch, and sometimes Chester the child molester. A lot of the time, friends will use these words to joke around with each other without any kind of hostility; it's just a way for them to express their comfort level with each other and maybe get a laugh in here and there. The only difference between this and when we were kids is that all over the country, not only do people make videos of two chicks licking their own poop out of a cup, those terms are used within a context of deep-seeded hatred towards the people they speak against. I can't help it if I likes 'em young... and retarded....and usually wearing food themed costumes... which in a sense leads me to my subject for the day.

I apologize in advance; this post is not about food themed costumes.

I don't usually go around calling people names (I have a much more colorful vocabulary to exercise), but I do appreciate being able to use words for their meaning without ignorant yuppies duct taping my mouth because they get offended in the name of other people, taking the blame to steal the credit in so many words. Ah, the college hippies and preppy schmucks in this world love to find things that'll make others notice them. They should find a cup and have at it.

What I'm talking about mainly is the word retarded. Now so far I only know of a few uses for the word; someone that's mentally handicapped, when you think an idea or situation is dumb in nature (i.e. the fact Obama is still in office is retarded), or possibly when something is slow and doesn't work right (i.e. my printer is retarded). First of all, I want to go to the core of the word itself and find it, not in a back alley doling out penguins for smack, but in a dictionary somewhere... possibly looking for meth. Let's take a look at what it says at dictionary.com:

re·tard·ed

adjective

characterized by retardation: a retarded child.

noun

( used with a plural verb ) mentally retarded persons collectively (usually preceded by the ): new schools for the retarded.

But now lookie what somebody snuck in at thefreedictionary.com:

re·tard·ed (r-tärdd)

adj.

1. Often Offensive Affected with mental retardation.

2. Occurring or developing later than desired or expected; delayed.

Often offensive? Why does that definition have nothing to do with the second one? One of them is the actual definition, the other one sneaks in a little usage in there; but it's completely subjective as to what's offensive, isn't it? Here's my point. I have someone in my family that is mentally retarded. If I talk about him to anyone, that's what I say. I say he's retarded. I've been told that he's not retarded, he's a special needs child, or he's mentally handicapped. I don't see a difference other than the fact that people these days don't want to face the truth. If a child is mentally handicapped, they're retarded by definition. I know you feel bad for them; I do too, but you're acting retarded.... and stop licking that doorknob!

Let's talk about the term special needs. I have an overwhelming urge to get off at least five times a day, so much in fact it impairs my better judgment (there's a little fun fact about me for you). That's a special need. You can call it a want, an addiction, or even a hobby; I call it a need. Smokers have the ability to choose to quit smoking... or do they? Most of them need to smoke, otherwise they wouldn't keep doing it for lack of better judgment. Some people smoke those godawful clove cigarettes. I'd consider those people in the special needs category. Circus clowns who have to wear custom-made, comically large, medically prescribed shoes because they have comically large flat feet. That's pretty special. My point is, you can use the term for a wide diversity of things without ever touching on the mental aspect. Retarded means retarded when earnestly describing a person. There are those who call it "the R word". Seriously? I'm sorry you're not able to handle a group of letters made to create a sound that comes out of your mouth and is used in a derogatory or vulgar way, but you can't simply erase the words themselves and replace them with more flowery words in an attempt to mask your insecurities about what it means. If everyone did that, we could lose the words tease, cow, chicken, whale, toothpick, fairy, cupcake, princess, spade, eggplant, yellow, cracker, jerk, junior, and fruity just to name a few. If you really want to split hairs, the word special is used for people to make fun of each other by insinuating they're retarded. Let's get rid of that one too. We'll have to come up with yet another charmingly spoken, non-offensive sidestep term for a word we already have. Let's just call them not retarded. That's what you're going for isn't it? If they're not retarded, you should be able to call them, not retarded. Yet, you come up with a new term that means the same thing in order to push your agenda that the person in question isn't retarded, they're just underdeveloped mentally. Wait..... We HAVE a word for that! It's called, retarded. If they are retarded, you should be able to call them retarded. Sorry, but we don't have a word that means retarded but not retarded. I doubt we ever will. We might, however, have solar powered socks one day... I don't know the science behind it, but doesn't it sound expensive?


This is what retarded looks like with money.

I just thought this was funny. Enjoy.

Don't get me wrong, the word retard isn't really necessary, even though it has a hint of meaning the same thing; it's use is always derogatory and I can understand when someone takes offense, but that's still no reason to deny others' freedom of speech. I don't care what people call me, they're allowed to say anything they like, and in return I'm allowed to say anything I like. That's the way freedom works. Instead you have all of these stuck-up bigots with retarded kids and nothing better to do, trying to take freedoms away, knowing full well that there isn't one single retarded child taking offense.

So, the message for today is: Stop trying to pretend certain words shouldn't exist because of the way others use them. Not only that, stop getting offended about every little thing! The rest of us are running out of room to breathe. Besides, ff you really want to replace the word retarded with another word that has similar meaning........ how about, Juggalo?

Pro Life, Pro Death, Pro Choice, Pro Choiceless

2011-10-04T18:37:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, there's a need to be serious. This is not one of those times; but if I'm known for one thing, I'm known for controversy. Why? Because it's fun and it's free. It's fun because people get offended all day long and I was put on this Earth by God himself to put my finger in your face and poke you over and over, asking you if it's annoying yet. Why do people get mad because you dislike, disagree, teach/preach against whatever it is they're promoting? That's simple. People hate your opinion because they want their peers to think their opinion is right. When you challenge that absolute authority, you're trying to get a piece of the lion's elk. Sometimes you can have the end that loosened up postmortem, but they usually save that end for Kathy Griffin.

People ask all the time, are you "pro choice" or "pro life" ? Do they ask because they're curious like asking you your favorite color? Hardly. They ask you because they're dying to tell you their stance on the issue and most likely want to debate you on the matter if your opinion differs from theirs. People love to shove highly debatable grenades in your anus, just to see if it explodes out of your mouth. Now me, I like anus bazookas... That came out wrong... What I meant was, I enjoy shoving back; especially with points that make sense. I hope no one got as turned on as I did right there... Did they?

See, I have no idea how long people will argue about whether or not abortion is morally right or wrong, but that's not the only way to argue the issue. First of all, Why are the two stances called Pro life and Pro choice? Either you're aborting the baby or you're not aborting the baby, right? Aren't those opposite choices? Either you do it, or you don't do it. (Kind of like... you got raped by a gang of 80-year-old women dressed as Storm Troopers, or you didn't get raped by 80-year-old women dressed as Storm Troopers.) Maybe they should be named as such. Instead of calling it Pro life and Pro choice, call it Pro life and Pro death (or even "Pro prevent life"). Why don't they call it pro death? That's pretty obvious; no one can push their agenda when they blatantly say they favor death. What's funny is, Pro life is in the perspective of the baby, Pro choice is in the perspective of the mother. Isn't that a little odd, that one "choice" is named to favor the one that can't consciously make a decision and one "choice" favors one that can? On the other side of the coin we could always call it Pro choice and Pro choiceless. In this scenario, Pro choice being in the perspective of the mother and Pros choiceless being in the perspective of the baby. Seems only fair, don't you think?

You would think if it's the woman's body and she has the right to make the choice to play God, whether or not to give someone the chance to live, then the state should have a right to also play God and tie that b*itch's tubes so she'll never have the need to make the choice in the first place. Did that sound a little harsh? I mean, gee Wally... How do I even know this woman we're talking about is a b*tch in the first place? I don't know, probably because she's erasing some guy's future wife, who lightly kisses him and wraps her arms around him when he gets home from work, or some little girl's father who teaches her how to ride a bike and put sprinkles on her cookies...I might be an *sshole, but I'm a softy *sshole... Now that I think about it, that sounds like a horrible ice cream flavor.

In fact, no one that's aborted as a fetus, will never get to experience any joys in life. They'll never get to have kids of their own or watch a sunset. They'll never fall in love, read a book, drive a car, fly in an airplane, get corn stuck in their teeth, or crap their pants because they trusted that fart too much. Even with all of these things that these women prevent on an emotional level, I don't really think arguing emotionally will solve a problem. Everything should make sense on a logical level as well, which is why I think the choices themselves should be renamed to reflect the reality in the contrast. That, and I think Olive Garden should be renamed "Stand Outside and Wait Three Hours for Obese Southerners to Finish Eating".

But let's think about it another way. Let's say a woman considers herself professional; she has a career, a mortgage, an unwillingness to close her legs; a whole life ahead of her. I agree having a baby isn't the most logical choice to make. Deciding what color to paint the walls in the bathroom is a big decision too. (if you trust your farts too often, you'll be seeing those walls a lot) However, one choice ends or prevents the life of a human, the other merely inconveniences another. Of course there are cases where there could be complications and having the baby could kill the mother. I mean.... no person would sacrifice their life for their child, right? That would just be too noble to give up a part-time job at Starbucks. The fact of the matter is in most cases, you do something that can result in unwanted consequences and somehow you can dispose of those consequences, like spending actual money to see The Village. I can't get that money back, people. But this isn't a movie that can be over with in a couple of hours. This is something that the natural process will turn into a human life, something that's more valuable than your budget, your car, your cell phone bill, your career, and your newly painted bathroom combined. There is no excuse someone can come up with that will justify what was more important than letting that baby be born. Nothing. The baby's gonna be retarded (excuse me, mentally retarded)? My nephew is like that and he's the best behaved, most awesome child you'll ever meet. The experiences he's given the people around him since he's been born are priceless. Plus, as he gets older, his poop gets bigger and that's just hilarious for whoever has to clean that up.

With everything else in life, people have to take responsibility for the choices they make. Not this time bubba. Joe Pesci comes over and says, "scrape that tissue, end the issue" (You can quote me on that, you heard it here first folks.) it's a little hard to whack an embryo from the inside with a baseball bat, but you'd be surprised how resourceful Italians can be. I know; they tell me all the time.

Anyway, that's enough for today. Tune in next time when I wear my underwear backwards to ward off those little river bugs that crawl up your pee hole.

Facebook Changes and You Can't Stand It

2011-09-22T09:40:00.000-07:00

I've been hearing rumors going around lately that it stings when I pee. Why is it I'm always the last to hear about these things? You would think for once I could be the one to come up with a new rumor, but every time I think of something, I have to stop what I'm doing to go to the bathroom... and it hurts really bad.

People have been complaining a lot lately about what Facebook is doing with its interface. Apparently people dislike change; so much in fact, they use Facebook's new interface to bitch about Facebook's new interface. All day long for at least the last two days I've seen statuses pop up basically stating that Facebook needs to stop changing the mechanics in how we use it to convey important information like what song lyrics explain our entire lives, which chain letter about Jesus and breast cancer we can copy and paste from our alcoholic aunt's wall to guilt trip our double cousin into "raising awareness", and finding just the right angle to capture the artistic pulchritude of the cleavage while still maintaining the integrity of the bathroom sink. Our day-to-day lives are so crucially important in fact, if we don't find a music video from the 80's on Youtube to share with "friends of friends" that coincide with our mood immediately, the moment will be lost forever and some guy in Birmingham Alabama will never understand why I got mad when my strawberries in Farmville didn't show up. I can't tell you how many times I needed those few extra seconds that the newly interfaced news stream stole from me, the twelve second, low quality video that my one good friend (I can't remember her name at the moment) uploaded of her cat sitting on the toilet seat like a little person almost interfered with my work schedule. I blame Facebook for that.


"Meet singles in your area now!... They all look like this, I swear!"

It's become so difficult to do anything on there now, they should know me well enough that not only do I enjoy clicking on the stock photos of big breasted teenagers on the side bar, I also can't learn good. Do they really expect me to take an extra three minutes to get used to all the changes they made? I have to keep up with what my Sim is doing before it goes into the red! Do you understand the gravity of the situation? It's already going to take up most of my free time tagging myself in the two hundred and eighty four pictures my sister uploaded yesterday from her ultrasound. Facebook needs to understand that I'm a big deal and if I don't comment about how everything is epic and awesome sauce with enough time to watch Rebecca Black's impersonation of a telephone operator, I'm just going to delete my account and say to hell with it. I totally didn't know that yesterday was Thursday, today it is Friday, tomorrow is Saturday and Sunday is afterwords, and I need my news feed to be back the way it was... back when life was simpler.

Facebook doesn't need to worry about making money and it sure as hell doesn't need to try to find new ways to advertise so companies can get their products to sell by using my interests and key words that I talk about on my wall. They have no idea what I want. They don't know anything about what's going on with my friends, like when Brad called Jenny a bitch 'cause she's totally a skank and she cheated on her boyfriends when she was drunk and now she's pregnant with twins. We all deal with important issues that facebook doesn't even know about and can't relate to on a personal level; like this time we all got some coke and broke into the book store because we wanted to see if there was a book on shutting off alarms and window repair. Facebook doesn't even care about Jesus because it didn't copy and paste a poem about the troops. Whoever doesn't agree with everything I post is an idiot and they don't love God the way I do.

The fact of the matter is that Facebook is ultimately a business and they make money by other companies getting to advertise their products to you. That's all it's about. It's not about you; it never was. Every time Facebook changes something, people bitch about it and eventually get used to it, then they bitch about it next time and eventually get used to it. Are we getting the picture? People hate change. That's all it comes down to. Things these days change on a daily basis and Facebook isn't any different. Some day Facebook will be gone and something new will take it's place. Until then, have fun bitching about your news feed and not unimportant things like famine, war, and the economy. Besides, I don't know what the news is anyway... I can't seem to figure this f*$%ing Facebook thing out.

DC Comics Negates My Ability to Count With the New 52

2011-08-23T22:32:00.000-07:00

To clear the air in so many words, this article may appear smooth and fluid, but that's really only because I am. I wouldn't quite call Taco Bell Mexican food per se, but it wouldn't be lying to consider it a class four narcotic, in that it places you ever so softly in another plane of existence where poop and farts are the same thing. Do you remember the Bog of Eternal Stench in the Labyrinth? Imagine instead of you falling into it, it falls out of you...very quickly.

Getting into the subject matter at hand. DC comics has announced that it would be rebooting a crap ton of titles, starting the issues off at number one. This has been circulating around the internet for some time and I'm just getting around to writing about it now because, well, I have a life and I get laid on a regular basis. DC is calling this the New 52. You can see a video about it here. You can also see another completely unrelated video here. (Just for the sake of argument, there are probably millions of people that don't know DC stands for Detective Comics; and to say DC Comics is actually saying Detective Comics Comics. Whether you care to know this little crumpet of information is irrelevant. The mere fact that you read it gives you a better chance of never unlearning it. You're welcome.)

Being a Batman fan (and professional funeral home voyeur), I'm not only infuriated that now I have to make yet another separator for the newly numbered Batman titles, I'm even more disappointed that those rich bastards at DC didn't have the decency to at least take the issues to #1,000. With Detective comics alone, they only had about ten years and three more young boys in tights to go. By that time they'd almost have a complete cast for Swan Lake. I was told by several gas station restroom informants that this is mainly just a hail mary pass by DC to get their numbers up. DC says it's to introduce new readers with a fresh start so they can feel more welcome into a brand new series. I say it's because corporations enjoy taking huge, watery yet chunky dumps into the interests of the consumers to see how much loose Taco Bell s*#t they can get away with. The worst part is that they don't even give you napkins to wipe your fan boy mouth off while you're shoveling in their recycled, corn infested crap... I think I saw a peanut in there somewhere too...

On the bright side, DC is revamping a lot of the character costumes, cover logos, and in the middle of every issue, a splash page of Dan Didio bending over and showing you his bare ass with the word "SUCKER" in bold lettering at the top; because let's face it, if you're into heroes like Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Clint Howard, you'll pretty much buy anything with their face on it.

Hide Yo Kids, Hide Yo Wife

2011-07-22T17:56:00.000-07:00

It might be more practical to hide yo defense attorneys.

The Battle of the Century: Batman VS Jesus Christ

2011-06-30T11:58:00.000-07:00

There have been many heroes throughout history; some from a fictional world where anything can happen, some from the real world where anything rarely happens, and some from Connecticut. One of my favorites of all time is Batman, the Dark Knight himself. Batman is not only one of the world's greatest martial artists, arguably the world's greatest detective, and the protector of Gotham City, but thanks to his appearances in the Justice League, he has also had a hand in saving the world/universe/multiverse countless times.

On the other side of the Red Sea, we have what some believers would call the Savior of the world, the Redeemer of mankind, the King of the Jews, the Son of God, the Messiah, that guy, and sometimes Alex..... Jesus Christ. Some Atheists and non-believers would argue whether or not Jesus even lived, but somehow everyone agrees Dragon Ball GT still exists. Apples and oranges...

I saw a post somewhere about who would win in a fight, Batman or Jesus. The winner is clear in this scenario; Jesus is a Quaker. There's no real comparison between who is a better fighter, so I chose to compare the super sleuth and the super jewth by who is the better savior/hero overall. I'll try to be as fair as I can be and give each characteristic I find worthy of the title points from a 1-10 basis and comparing the total at the end.

So, here goes; the Battle of the Century: Batman vs. Jesus Christ!

Jesus: Gets his father, God to forgive the sins of the world - 10 points
Batman: Gets his butler to wash his tights - 3 points

Jesus: "Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord. I shall repay." Jesus lets his dad do his fighting for him - 2 points
Batman: Vows to take vengeance against all evil doers, so good people don't have to suffer loss like he did -
10 points

Jesus: Willingly gets beaten mercilessly to save the world (that takes some balls) - 7 points
Batman: Kicks much ass to save the world - 8 points
JFK: died in a car - 3 points

Jesus: God is his co-pilot - 9 points
Batman: a young boy in pixie boots is his co-pilot - 2 points

Jesus: Takes the wheel for country singers that also sing about slashing tires and busting headlights with a
Louisville Slugger - 5 points
Batman: takes four wheels and builds his own car - 7 points

Jesus: turned water into wine - 6 points
Batman: turned a cave into a museum - 5 points

Jesus: Told Satan where to shove it - 8 points
Batman: used to call his partner "old chum" - 1 point

Jesus: Took on many disciples to carry on his work - 7 points
Batman: Took on many disciples to carry on his work - ....... 8 points

Jesus: saved a prostitute from being stoned - 4 points
Batman saves a multitude of prostitutes nightly - 6 points

Jesus: Takes a stab in the dark and accuses Judas of betrayal - 10 points (the odds he would be right was
astronomical!)
Batman: compiles clues, evidence, and educated hypotheses before making accusations - 9 points

Jesus: Born from a virgin - 9 points
Batman: born from the result of his parents being murdered - 7 points

Jesus: possibly had a bitchin' beard - 6 points
Batman: had no beard - 3 points

Jesus: walked on water and saved Peter from drowning - 8 points
Batman: did not walk on toxic chemicals to save the Joker - 2 points

Jesus: was followed by thousands and thousands of people daily for free food and some quick healing -
7 points
Batman: is followed by no one... if they know what's good for 'em - 8 points

Jesus: could make a blind man see - 7 points
Batman: made this man go blind... See? - 6 points

Jesus: befriended sinners - 5 points
Batman: beats up lawbreakers - 5 points

Jesus: died and came back - 10 points
Batman: Superman is his b*tch - 10 points

Jesus: Was sickly and unsightly, then eventually was unrecognizable as a man; tortured by Roman soldiers and
spat on by Jewish Pharisees. After all was said and done, he died a virgin. - 2 points
Batman: Banged Catwoman, Talia al Ghul, Silver St. Cloud, Jezebel Jet, Vicky Vale, and thousands of other hard-bodied supermodels - 385,546,745 points.

Oooooooh, (inhales through teeth), sorry Jesus.

One thing you have to know about the hero is that he always gets the girl.

Osama Bin Laden Dead

2011-05-01T20:14:00.000-07:00

Apparently the guy's dead. Here are my sources:

*holds up middle finger*

The Situation on The Trump Roast: Bombed like Hiroshima

2011-03-16T15:42:00.000-07:00

I haven't seen anyone try to tell jokes and fail as bad since Jesus told everybody he was just kidding. My wife and I watched the Roast of Donald Trump last night and let me tell you, most of it was pretty funny; but the embarrassment that this no-talent greaser "the Situation" faced was almost too horrible to watch. I thought everyone had some good jokes, including Seth McFarland and Anthony Jeselnik (which was my personal favorite for the night.), but then, out of the blue, I notice this guy cast as one of the roasters, who looks like an orange Julius come to life, make the most awful jokes I've ever heard. The Situation got nothing but silence and boos from the crowd; something I've never seen on a celebrity roast. Where's Greg Giraldo when you need him?

I absolutely have to know who hires the cast for these roasts, so I can skin him alive and roll him around in a pile of salt. Are you serious? I've never seen the Jersey Shore, but How popular could it have been with a bunch of oompa loompas dancing around lifting their shirts for the cameras? I've seen more laughs at Larry King's blood work results than I saw during his sliver of time. Is Hollywood really that short on people that can tell a decent joke?

For the record, I'm only writing about this because I'm drunk. Otherwise, I wouldn't be giving Jersey Shore grease balls the attention.

Things I'm Doing Before I Die

2011-01-19T12:06:00.000-08:00

I was originally going to title this "Things I Want to Do Before I Die", but I lack motivation with a title like that. Could I ever really get things done without the authoritative dialog one deserves when said one is eventually going to take a dirt nap? I have no idea what I just said..... but I believe it.
There are plenty of things we little people with no money would like to do in general.... probably because we can't afford to do anything, so we want to do everything. Plenty of things come to mind, like getting a tattoo of Joe Camel right above my penis just to make people wonder if there was a marketing strategy involved, or something a little less romantic, like making a snuff film with a blow-up doll and just popping her when I'm done. I don't think there's a law against that... yet.

More importantly there are things that I have compiled into a list that I choose to get done before my untimely demise, most likely caused by a faulty bear incident.

1. First things first, I've always wanted to have sex in a bathtub full of jello. Would I want to eat the jello afterward? I'll make that decision when the time comes. The important thing is not to use red in case something uninvited seeps into the mix.

2. I'm taking a huge dump in Okinawa. I don't think i need to explain why this is a super sweet idea.

3. I want to start a religious rebellion by manipulating an Amish man with no penis, a Russian passivist who speaks only Klingon, a Chinese woman who wears a yamaka, and an animal rights activist who is also a barbarian from ancient Sumeria. This one is just a tad specific, which now that I think about it involves time travel. Not impossible, but could possibly involve sending a letter to Keanu Reeves two years from now.

4. I want to fist fight someone on the moon. Just two grown men.... maybe one grown man and a kangaroo, duking it out in the cold, vacuous outer regions of the beyond......on the moon. Whoever wins will have to swim back and try not to freeze or explode.

5. I want Anne Coulter to stop talking. I'm doing whatever is necessary to accomplish this enormous feat.

6. I'm going to mercilessly beat the first superhero wannabe that pops up. Why wouldn't I?

7.Bill Gates will be drugged and influenced through Jedi mind control and tequila to pay an ungodly amount of money to Stephen Spielberg to direct the epic demise of Megan Fox through the most disgusting snuff film ever made.

8. I will create a time paradox with my junk.... we can only hope.

......... I'm not showing an image for that.

9. I will mercilessly beat Anne Coulter with Megan Fox's head. Why wouldn't I?

10. Last, but certainly not last, I will wear Selena Gomez as a hat. I would eat that girls clothes just to prove a point........ I guess the point....... is that I can digest clothes.
I'll think of something, but this will get done.

11. ...and finally, I'm going to eat human flesh. This is all happening most likely during/after the zombie apocalypse, so the majority consensus says it'll be acceptable. I wonder who it'll be.... Maybe I'll eat David Caruso. That'll be the best part he'll ever play....... with a side of green beans.

I realize at least one or two of these things are ridiculous and impractical. I mean, my junk should theoretically only be able to tare a rift in the space time at best, but I like to set my goals a little higher than just mediocre things like undoing the very fabric of reality through viciously humping the sky in the right point of existence. Sometimes you have to believe that you're better than that.

Happy New Zombie Apocalypse!

2011-01-05T12:59:00.000-08:00

New Year resolutions are all the same; stop doing this, try not to do this, don't forget to do this from now on. Do you ever see variety in this country anymore? How about some world changing ideas, like blame every fart on old people from now on. Who knows, it might inspire euthanasia. What about saying "f#%k off" to the next 100 people you see, no matter who they are? Well, in light of the way I do things, I decided to make my New Year resolution something so many of you have been looking forward to, but probably looks better on paper than the actual application. I'm going to start the zombie apocalypse and I'm going to be the last person left. First of all, I'm not going to tell you how it's going to start, but I AM going to tell you how things are going to pan out eventually. I thought this thing through just a little and schemed a few ideas out on a list so I'll have less thinking to do and more time to run when the entrails hit the fan.

1. Starting my first restaurant

There will be a time when there are no more civilized people left in this world except the walking dead... and possibly Pauly Shore, because let's face it, no one would eat him. The poor little zombies will go hungry sooner or later and your selfish ass couldn't plump yourself up enough to provide them with a good hearty meal. Now not only am I having to take things in a different direction, I'll have to do it for free because zombies don't have money. Fortunately, I'll be able to use any building I want, which will probably be my ex in-laws' house just for kicks. I'm calling my new restaurant "Cats and Dogs Are Okay Now". I think it's obvious what we'll be serving, but I had no idea Pauly already ate cats and dogs, so kudos for that.

2. Finding a place to live

This will be easy because I can live anywhere as long as there aren't too many bodies to drag out. Of course I've really already figured this out. I'm going to stay in Heff's Playboy mansion. He'll be in cryostasis so he won't mind. Besides, he's got a machine in the basement that manufactures brand new playboy bunnies with big boobies. Oddly enough they're already pre-programed to hate Pauly Shore.

3. How am I going to get laid?

Just a little more difficult than finding a place to live, but contrary to popular belief, I will not be opening a whorehouse called "Cats and Dogs Are Okay Now". I'm going to either be gay for Pauly, or choose to do the horizontal Zombo with my dead little bags of flesh... I think I'll go with the zombies. So how do we go about this? Getting close will probably get me eaten or worse, castrated. I have to find some way to either tie them down or hack of the lower torso and just have my way with it while I diddle the inner waist area. On the bright side, the law of rape will be rendered obsolete.

4. Becoming the ultimate gamer

With no competition in the gaming world, I'll be king of the world, if only for a little while. Since zombies either chew in the controllers or try to eat the people in the games, I'll eventually run out of entertainment equipment, including Playboy bunnies ( I'll probably wear those out with minimal help from the zombies). The good news is I win every race at Mario Kart... finally.

5. The worlds largest drug dealer

Again, I won't be getting paid, but since I can just jack everything ever made, money won't be such a huge deal. It's always good getting high with your dead friends, especially the ones that don't keep talking about weezing the juice. Do you have any idea how funny it is listening to zombie moans while you blow smoke in their faces? Not all drugs work on the zombies though. Cocaine is a little useless because they don't breathe. No heroin because of the coagulated blood; but Pot-people brownies are hilariously good. I really wish I cooked them now because I just ate half the batch.

There are so many more things I plan to do when everybody is dead except me. Hell I might even try having sex with animals... What? Screw you, you're dead and there's no one around to judge me, I'll do what I want. Now that I think about it for a minute, I'm seriously considering it. Maybe I'll lead some zombies over to a bear or something. I'll be the first person in the world besides Chuck Norris to f&#k a bear. Of course it'll be dead, so I'll have to change the Guiness book rules a little; but that'll be no sweat compared to how long it'll take to abolish the FCC. They apparently have lasers mounted to their headquarters.

Beau's List of Rules for Promiscuous Relations

2010-10-12T19:17:00.000-07:00

Originally, I had plans to write about how desperate for attention and self esteem you'd have to be to consider yourself a "juggalo", but more important matters are at hand this time around. Today's lesson in life and love is something those of you who know me personally would expect me of all people to compose, simply because I have time enough on my hands to do so. Besides, how will the eager and thriving young minds of today get through their schoolwork and thesis papers without proper education in things like casual encounters, sexually transmitted diseases, and the dreaded "I don't want to ruin our friendship". So, in the spirit of progress, let's get this underway, shall we?
I call this Beau's List of Rules for Promiscuous Relations:

Rule #1: Always the bridesmaids, never the bride.......unless she's gonna do it.

This basically means that everyone is fair play. Their business is not your own, so keep your pointy little nose out of it. Nothing sucks more than a "playa" with a conscience.

Rule #2: Utilize the buddy system.

Don't you hate it when you're running the triathlon and you get a cramp in your leg when no one's around? When having promiscuous sex, you should always bring a helper along to assist you in case the unexpected occurs. Also make extra sure that your helper is aware of their obligations prior to arriving at your destination. It's better to get it all out there beforehand rather than having to use your hand.

Rule # 3: Be a jack of all trades.

Keep in mind, not every fish goes for the same bait, so you'll need to bone up (no pun intended) on using every resource at your disposal. Whether it be Ruffies, alcohol, extacy, rope, choke hold, blackmail, or just plain ol' lying through your teeth, bring the right tools for the right situation.

Rule #4: Extreme sex calls for extreme measures.

Using protection? Then stop already; condoms are for pussies! A strong, independent individual like you needs to live on the edge. Birth control? hardly. Abstinence? not in this life, bubba. Don't be afraid of diseases and pregnancy, you're invincible! In the event you follow this rule, check your GPS for the nearest clinic.

Rule #5: Explore all the possibilities.

The world is your playground; why not your partner(s) too? Whatever the case may be, put it everywhere! Mouth, genitals, anus, the doorknob hole in the hallway, the grill out back, maybe even if you own a pet.......they could watch too! Life is short; be the Lewis and Clark of sex.

Rule #6: Leave your friends in the dust.

Ever been told, "can't we just be friends?", I don't want to ruin our friendship", or "you're like a brother/sister to me"? This is what happens when you exercise a non-sexual relationship with someone else for too long. If you want to bump uglies with them, tell them during your initial meeting. Say something like, " I may want to sleep with you in the near future. We're not friends yet and there's nothing to ruin. If you see me like a brother/sister at this juncture, you're a nut ball and should be locked in a room with pillows for walls. Now that we have that out of the way, Hi, my name is ______."
No one ever loses friends with sex. They're just too stupid to think you're well aware of the fact that they are into sex, just not with you.

Rule#7: Test the waters for your fallback guy/girl.

Don't want to sleep with everyone? That's fine, everyone has their own tastes. That doesn't mean you shouldn't flirt around to figure out your options. Remember, not everyone wants to sleep with you either, but it's good to have a back-up plan in case your significant other catches you cheating again, so keep your toes in the water.

Rule #8: Get to know your partner(s).

The dumbest thing one can do is call someone by another person's name when they're getting laid. Memorize, write down, repeat until you're blue in the face, do what you have to do to remember who's guts you're smashing. If all else fails, figure out words that rhyme with everyone's name, so you can just play it off like you were going to start talking about something else. Which reminds me: Steer clear of women named Helga.

Rule #9: Kick your standards like a bad habit.

Ugly girls, pregnant, single moms, sociopaths, nurses, and even fat women with fibromyalgia and service monkeys need love too. Whether or not you do doesn't matter; either way you're still getting play. If you set your standards too high, you may just run out of options. Keep your playbook open and a paper bag handy.

Rule #10: When in doubt, deny, deny, deny.

This one is a classic and should never leave any list of rules for any kind of relations. Whether you're lying, cheating, stealing, impregnating, passing diseases, or in some cases paying for it, deny everything. Even if your wife catches you d*ck deep in a hooker, it wasn't you. In more extreme cases, such as a video of you and an assortment of various barn yard animals or small woodland creatures, it still wasn't you. Be brave... it will all be over soon.

In the event you find this list on another website, they're plagiarizing and you should notify/come have sex with me immediately. I hope you enjoyed this informative article featuring true events and important day to day issues. Please do not follow these rules, you are an idiot if you do.

Die More Harder - Ver. 2

2010-09-04T18:56:00.000-07:00

This post was one of my favorites. It was featured on a site called Scrivel.com A while back, but I made a deal with the site moderator that I wouldn't post the same things on there that I did here. Since the a$$hole edited my material just before I quit posting (and that's a no-no where I stand), I might as well let you read it from my home page. For the record, when someone wants to feature your writing on their site and they tell you they WILL NOT edit your work, they will re-neg on that promise 100% of the time. Oh, and to be a bigger a$$hole, I edited it myself for this post.

originally posted: October 2008


yes, I was at Wal-Mart and took this picture myself. The Die Hard DVD case was a copy of the Die Hard 2 DVD case, just reversed.

With the latest Die Hard movie, whatever the name was, you'd think that Mr. Willis would be gettin' tired of being bloody for 2 hours at a time. That would almost be enough to drive you crazy. Crazy like a Burger King employee performing on a mall Santa in the alley behind McDonald's. Now That's having it your way.

John McLain apparently went nuts somewhere between Die Hard parts 1 and 2, but it's part 17 I'm looking forward to. We're calling it: "Die More Harder: Dying is Almost Impossible When You're Alive" (it's a work in progress title).

It's the year 2134.

Detective McLain is still alive somehow and more harder than ever! The internet (which is now known as Obama Land) has been taken over by Chuck Norris Jokes and his string of reality shows featured on VH1 entitled, "Roundhouse Kick of Love", seasons one through whenever the f$%# Chuck Norris says ...

McLain now has a reason to stop the future by traveling back in time via a magical Demi Moore blow-up doll (what are the odds, right?), gather everybody that copies-and-pastes those stupid Chuck Norris jokes to their Myspace page on an everyday basis, kick them in their teeth and urinate fire on them while they're down (that last part might be unnecessary, but what can you do, it's in the script. Besides, are you gonna stop Chuck Norris?).

After the internet wars of 2136, Johnny boy discovers that he's actually an action hero in a movie because a fat kid from Baby Steps tells him so. As long as the guy with the glass eye doesn't find the magic movie ticket, we still have half a plot for the next eighteen sequels.

McLain eventually learns about the 14 and 3/4 monkeys (from the directors of the Naked Gun Eleventeenth and 9/16's of an inch) and winds up in a black and white comic book adaptation where the Invisible Girl gets raped by a yellow troll and Frodo finally stops talking. After another couple of hours he tosses the ol' pigskin around with Homie the Clown and rescues a prepubescent Jennifer Love Hewitt look-alike. She hides a gun in her teddy bear along with a live camera feed, with Ashton in the background getting ready to tell Bruce Willis he's been Punked. All in all, he gets so confused that one day he just snaps and tries to kill Matthew Perry twice.

He's got a new book coming out.

He's calling it: "How to Smoke a Cigarette and Pretend it's Not a Tampon" (also a work in progress).

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Make Sure your S*#t is Still Mine!

2010-08-27T09:44:00.000-07:00

A question was raised on the radio the other day about the "American Dream". With the economy the way it is, they were curious to know, not only how many people could refrain from yelling "Boba Booey, Boba Booey, Howard Stern's penis!!", but whether or not owning a home is still considered a piece of the American dream. Apparently a lot of people that rent answered the call with their opinions about why it's better not to own a home with a long list of reasons. You don't have to mow the lawn, fix electrical or plumbing problems, or worry about whether or not you need to tell the neighbors you're cheating on your wife so at least someone will find out. There's no homeowner's association and there are no property taxes. Jehova's witnesses won't come to your door as much because they fear doors with a letter on it. All I had to do was turn the "t" upside down. Basically there were nothing but upsides to renting rather than buying. Stupid people will say, "but you're just throwing your money away.", which leads me to my point. Can you actually be a "home owner" or is that as much a contradictory statement as saying "Anne Coulter is insightful."?

No matter how much you pay on "real estate", it will never truly be yours. It's kind of like being in love with a stripper. There will always be property tax breathing down your neck. Now some people will say that property tax is good because it pays for local services like police, fire department, prostitution, and Wal-Mart greeters, but when you have to pay a tax on something that should be yours, it can be taken from you if you don't pay. Doing some research I found that not only did a guy rape an eight day old baby, but the word "real" in "real estate" actually came from the word "royal" Real estate translates to "the king's land". The difference between owning land and real estate is that real estate is contracted out. So what you're doing when you buy real estate is renting it out from the government, IRS, banks, Bill Gates, etc... You could get some old hick farmer to give you a piece of his land that he got when his ancestors walked out to it and said "mine!", build your own house out of materials you got from Tony that knows a guy down at Home Depot, and You will still have to pay tax on it to where if you don't, it will all be taken away from you. Just like an anorexic on a treadmill, you will lose everything.

I did find out there are ways to own your house outright, but it has to do with Alloidial titles and land patents. Without these things, nothing about your land is yours. They will charge you this tax all your life and when you decide one day that your balls finally dropped and you say, "You know what, this here is mine, I'm not paying you for what I already paid someone else for", they seize your property to make up for the loss in revenue you failed to fork out. So uh... how're you enjoying our government so far? I swear it's like an ex wife you can't get away from. You give them the good china, they want your copy of Fatal Frame II and I swear to God I'll never get that back, you f%$*ing whore!

So keep in mind what you really want in life, the ability to pick up and go whenever you want, or be stuck with something that's not even yours for 30 years or your credit gets turned to poo. I remain impartial.

In lighter news, apparently some guy raped an eight day old baby. What a sick world we live in.

Unemployment is Better than the Anus Pounder

2010-08-23T22:07:00.000-07:00

In all of this madness concerning the economy, lay-offs aren't really a concern to people in certain fields. The medical field for one example is still thriving and probably producing more revenue than ever. Other good examples would be the porn industry, idiots with bad acting skills, giant tits, and alcoholism looking for 15 minutes of fame in their own reality show, strippers (which sometimes classify as the previous example), chain restaurants, and casinos. I had the raw end of the deal because instead of becoming a midget juggler at the circus like I went to college for, I had to pick land surveying, which is almost a dead industry now, unless you're in the private sector. Getting screwed out of even the simplest of jobs affects my private sector enough as it is. When you apply for a job nowadays, since they're so scarce, most places that pay a decent amount require experience right out of the gate. Since I've been doing the same thing for 10 years, it's about as hard as a Jew with a coupon to have already had experience in anything else. Now don't get me wrong, I'm fully capable of learning just about any job that doesn't require a license from some pencil pushing suit, but those jobs are held over for kids with nothing to pay for but their cell phone bills and Nickleback tickets (which I will address with a vengeance in a minute). The worst part about experience requirements is that you have to have experience to get the job and you have to get the job to get experience, and the knee bone is connected to the hip bone. Since jobs are few and far between, companies are cherry picking and it screws the American people like Bob Vila on an oak cabinet. I understand that people are too lazy to train business world noobs, but it beats having idiots for employees that have 20 years experience and can't even spell their name right.

I've sent I don't know how many copies of my resume, but apparently, it's not appropriate to put, "I punch babies good" under "things I do for money", so I completely changed it to say, "I punch babies well". Actually, if I squint my eyes just right, the part where I say that I've been abducted by aliens, therefore I am a spiritual person, almost looks like it says I rape bunny rabbits, but it's alright because I do. Just look at 'em, they're so f$#*ing cuddly!

The reason I'm so upset though is that there are way, way too many teenagers that don't have families to support working jobs that people like me need. Part of the problem in this economy I think is that the working age for most places is anywhere between 15 and 16 years old (I think that's right around the time most teenage girls have their third child, a.k.a. "grandma's" third "roommate"). These kids are cheaper labor, don't need much insurance, and 80% of them now wear women's jeans for some reason. Therefore, I propose each state increase the working age to 18. That way, instead of our money going straight towards those little neon lights that go underneath some chode's Honda Civic, they can go towards things that matter to middle aged men like me, like lap dances and booze... oh, and diapers and food for my children. Of course, whatever kid that has a job at the time would be grandfathered in until he or she quits or is fired because my Mcdonald's order is ALWAYS WRONG!!! Seriously, how hard is it to make a burger with no cheese, extra lettuce, one pickle on the side, no bun, no ketchup, add mayonnaise, add bologna, extra cheese, add olives, no meat, no mustard, no cheese, sesame seeds picked off in the northeast quadrant, and cut into fun animal shapes; with raw french fries and a drink, hold the cup, and a taco without sour cream? For God's sake, learn how to do your job instead of pounding my anus! Seriously, I didn't order that!

True Blood: Taste the Rainbow

2010-08-13T23:03:00.000-07:00

Is it just me, or is the only good excuse for vampire media these days getting a little... gay? What is it with story telling on cable television that absolutely has to include physical "bromance" to the point you get that taste in your mouth like someone regurgitated warm carrots down your throat hole. Not boiled carrots either; those little frozen dinner carrot cubes that are never really fully cooked and they come mixed with those rubbery, cold bits-o'-goodness homeless people call corn. The matter at hand (warm carrot cube vomit or not) is the HBO phenomenon True Blood, which I personally enjoy and look forward to every Sunday night. I also look forward to expelling Saturday night's burritos for those of you keeping up with current events.

True Blood, unlike the pale twink fairy movie franchise Twilight, actually has story and character development that self-respecting people should care about and devote some down time to... if ever they find the time to get out of junior high and stop shelling out money to a bad acting, sparkly fag like Robert Pattinson. For the record, concerning people who get offended at everything, by fag, I don't mean he's gay. Don't get me wrong, he's most definitely a fag, he just so happens to be gay too. Anyway, enough about the oober cupcake fairy fag Bob Pattinson. We're here today to discuss one of the bigger annoyances in life, like why the hell are they f*$%ing with True Blood's sexual preference? Do we really need every single vampire story in the media today to either be obviously gay (Twilight) or in this case, demonstratively gay?
Let me tell you a little something about myself. I love lesbian porn just as much as the next guy, but we men have a double standard when it comes to inter-gender free-for-all. I'm sorry, I don't make the rules.

courtesy of some guy with hairy arms

Last week on True Blood, Lafayette and Jesus (<--- I know, right?) have their second make-out scene while Eric and Russel's spicy little Saturday night burrito boy toy have their own little kissy, kissy. Not too long ago, there was an episode where Sam had a dream where he was about to get naked with Bill Compton in the shower right after another close call make-out scene... Not that it's not oh so detrimental to the story, but this show is supposed to be about vampires, werewolves, shape shifters, telepaths, ancient demigods, and evil christians (<--- not like that's anything new). Why on Earth are all the dudes sharing tongue attacks when they should be ripping each others' faces off?

That's like somebody saying, "Hey guys, I've got this great idea for a movie. It's gonna be called "The Terminator" and it's about this soldier from a future where machines rule the world. He becomes the father of his best friend and protects Linda Hamilton from an Austrian in a leather jacket, but during all the shooting and explosions, we're gonna have some dudes makin' out and the android will say "I need your clothes, your boots, and some of that sweet ass."

and the executives reply:

".......................Who the hell is Linda Hamilton?"

I'm sure that's how it would have went down so long as there was a generation of pasty, emo scene kids generating revenue wherever gay can be found.

Well, at least with True Blood there's no need to discuss what team you're on. Apparently they're all on the blue team.

No, not that one.

LOST Just Gave Me a Penguin

2010-05-24T14:35:00.000-07:00

With the final season of LOST coming to a close with the book-ended eye flutters of Dr. Jack Shephard, somehow I feel like most of the general populace as I watched a plane fly over the island, made it through the first commercial, and said... "what?". For those of you who don't like spoilers, I promise I won't give anything away... anything at all.

(But let's be honest, it could have looked more like this:)

Ok, so everybody dies and all dogs go to heaven, except for Michael because he's a jackass and his son is apparently eight feet tall. The ending was actually the end... and then another end after the ending, where Mr. Echo was no where to be found. I have no idea why the writers of LOST make it apparent that black people (except for Rose because she's a sweetie) don't get to go to church, but if you ask me, whenever I go to Golden Corral Sunday afternoon, that's obviously a lie. From about 7 in the evening, to 1:05 in the morning I hogged the television to watch a 2-hour review special, a 2 and a half hour finale, and a 1-hour Jimmy Kimmel LOST farewell show. Needless to say, I wasn't the only one scratching my head that night. They certainly did name the show appropriately. After I mulled over what happened, it made more sense to me what just happened, but only time will tell how long my brain will hold on to that. That, and I'm still pissed I never found out what happened to Shannon's inhaler.

A lot of questions, however, were answered during the final episode(s) last night. With the phrase, "You made a great number 2", we find out that all this time, Ben was a giant turd that came out of Hurley, most likely early into the first season, which would give him time to grow. Benjamin Linus himself was beaten more times than Pee Wee Herman's junk in a theater. I'm fairly certain it was symbolic of how hard it was to pop a squat in the jungle. Women can't have babies, and the men can't drop the kids off at the pool.

The "flash sideways" (which is how it was explained earlier on) wasn't actually an alternate time line showing what would happen if the plane hadn't crashed, but a flash WAY forward after all involved characters in the series had kicked the bucket ( insert Mr. Cluck Cluck joke here) and were experiencing a play-through of their lives up until they remembered they died so they could move on to the "real" afterlife in which Drive Shaft opens for Spinal Tap. Everyone that did the nasty on the island or wanted to do the nasty on the island is reunited in their own little after life and those crazy kids with the diamonds are still in the ground waiting for Miles to come back and snatch 'em up. All I want to know is, what happens to Mr. kung fu from the temple? Last but not least, why the hell didn't someone tell me Black Gandhi wasn't gonna be in the show.

Dude, why don't you ever say Hi to me?

Tim Burton Defines "Recycled Crap"

2010-05-16T15:54:00.000-07:00

I realize I haven't been completely active within my responsibilities of filling the internet with true stories about fast food prostitutes and anecdotes involving mating rituals between white rabbits and Burt Reynolds' seamstress, but sometime between my last post and now, I received another baby girl to train in the arts of ruling the universe via hemorrhages. My wife walked in, laid down, pushed her out, smacked a nurse and chased a bottle of vodka with a bottle of tequila in a matter of 4 minutes, 18 seconds. Of course I'm being generous with the term "smacked". It all seemed to go as planned, except for the monkey that stormed in wearing a bikini, but we all got a good laugh from that... Then it threw the rabbit against the wall... Yeah, that wasn't so funny.

I've been looking at a lot of books lately. Why? Well, I'm in the middle of writing a book myself and I'm oh so amused by the way people perceive how it should be written. You see, this book is good because it follows a formula. It follows this formula because other good books follow the same formula. If it does not follow the formula, or one similar, it is not good because it is not like all of these other books. There's my dilemma. I don't want to write anything that's like any other story, but the kicker is, apparently it's not good literature because it's not a carbon copy of other good literature... kind of like how my poop isn't healthy because its red, unlike everyone else's poop. I guess you can't win the game unless you follow the rules (who were made by idiots). Isn't that what TV's like now? Everything is a remake of something else, it's the same recycled crap from ten years ago, or it's reality television which is bad enough. People hate it, but it keeps selling. It's not just the money either; There are lots and lots of yuppie college know-it-all hippies that think they know good writing because they read 10-20 stories from hundreds of years ago that all follow a single pattern and since theirs does as well, it must be good. This philosophy can be best described as the ol' "douche bag of tricks" (I think that was a before and after on Wheel of Fortune). Here's how a conversation between two douches might look like:

"Hey, did you see Iron Man 2 yet?"

"No, it's nothing like the new Alice in Wonderland."

"Oh, I love Tim Burton"

"Oh, me too."

"Let's go suck each other off and talk about Tim Burton!"

"Great idea, my douchy gay hippie lover!"

Okay, maybe it doesn't have to involve Iron Man 2, but that part's pretty interchangeable. As long as you follow the same pattern, all douches basically sound like this.

The Super Bowl: America's Annual OJ Trial

2010-02-07T19:50:00.000-08:00

Here it is, the game of the year; the most expensive airtime anyone can hope to purchase in the hopes that someone will buy some damn Doritos and Bud Light. I myself am not a football fan. I don't have the patience to sit for 6 hours and watch the same episode with different players over and over. The game never ends, really. One team has the ball, the other one doesn't. A coach somewhere is pissed off and some other guys are constantly telling you what's happening, even though you're watching. The best part of all is, no matter where you are, who you are, or where you're from, you're stupid for liking the team that you do.

This is an individual's way to somehow claim some kind of specialism over another by simply liking a certain team for whatever reason they wish; usually because that specific team plays in a stadium located in said individual's home town (not quite the smartest reason. Yeah, I'm talking to you, Panther fans). All I ever hear is "our team" this and "our team" that. What do you really have to do with this team you claim to be a part of? Do you even personally know and possibly give hand jobs to any professional athletes? I don't know anyone who's even an associate to a pro athlete, so I cringe at the whole "we won" philosophy. Let me just sum up this part of my thought by saying: If you think that's your team, show me a check made out to you from someone in the NFL or shut the hell up.

What I don't understand is how this possessive attitude can not only make a Pittsburgh fan bite your face off........like in that movie, but it disappoints people with no real affiliation. In this [The Super Bowl's] case, Colts fans (The Saints won tonight. In your face, Payton Manning). Either way, for some reason, you're required to pick a side. It's like a war, where prejudice is issued to you by your friends and family. You're not allowed to just enjoy a game and commend the team on their good plays. You're almost always obligated to hate it when the team that you don't favor makes a good play. If this was food, no one would ever eat Hardees again and everyone would be held at gunpoint to eat a Mega Mac.

It's just one of those things in this life I just don't get. Nothing people on a field throwing a ball around that I don't know could make me happy or sad. It makes almost as much sense as the way people appoint food and drinks a gender because it has certain colors or tastes. I'll be damned if I'm gonna lose my man card somehow because I like those little pink snowballs.

After everything is said and done, it reminds me of the OJ trial. All over America, you're going to have a big group of people that are happy with the results, while another big group of people are not only distraught, but probably lost a good chunk of money because the stats said, "go ahead, use your kids college fund, you'll be able to put more in after you win this bet.......oh, and kill your parents." After the game is over, people show up at work the next day to gloat or say, "shut up, dude".

If you ask me........I'd rather just have a snowball..........

Not that kind of snowball, pervert.

"The Nothing Report" & "Braking Entertainment" Both Hate Oasis

2010-01-13T19:47:00.000-08:00

I've finally finished my first video to be released on Youtube which happens to be a literal music video. If you're bored and get burnt out on chronically masturbating to cross-dressing pigmys that eat placentas and finger paint on each other with hamster poo, you can check it out here. In the course of my life on youtube, I'll be doing video blogs for The Nothing Report, maybe more literal videos, some other stuff in the style of Mystery Science Theater 3000, and if we ever get some money we'll begin our sit-com project "Braking News" The name for our database of thought is kind of a play on that name, Braking Entertainment. We don't have our own website yet; let's face it, I'm just not that technologically advanced. The best I can do is spend a day and a half figuring out how to fumble my way through windows movie maker without getting skid marks in my underoos.

I've always wondered why Batman spent his spare time daydreaming about small boys dressing like him.

Why would I do video blogs when i can just write out my frustrations? There's a simple answer for that.....

I've got a cool hat.

Anyway, since writing is what I do best, That's pretty much what my endeavors will involve on my end. I don't have any cast members yet for our web show, so in my spare time I'll just be coming up with video blogs and trying to find the thin line that borders rape with my wife....then I'll cross it only slightly.

It's too bad I'm into reverse rape.

............more on that later.

All I Got For Saturnalia was Christmas

2009-12-25T10:36:00.000-08:00

Today is one of about 5 days a year where everyone deems it necessary to make me wake up and do things. Looks great on paper I'm assuming, but even though I didn't get that memo, somehow I'm still responsible. Everywhere I go people are telling me to have a merry Christmas. I don't always find it imperitive to let them know that I don't celebrate pagan holidays because, well, they have no idea why of all things I don't take part in their ignorance. Just getting my comic books last week took everything out of me answering a question from one of the guys working there. The internet isn't well known in the world of the baby boomer generation, so no one older than 40 is all that equipped to research fact from fiction. There are exceptions of course, but I make generalizations on my own web page because no one reads it.... and because it makes christians mad.

The idea of Santa Claus just confounds me. Of course any sane adult knows how fictional it is to think that one man could drink that much milk in one night, but just the concept of christians that supposedly live by faith to believe the invisible and spiritual actually think that it's alright to convince their child that someone like Santa Claus is real, then when the kids find out their infallible parents lied to them, they're still supposed to believe by the same parents' word that God is also real just kind of sickens me....that and the urban definition of space docking. How do the christians of the world even begin to wonder why most countries think they're idiots? They teach their kids to believe in God, Santa, The Easter Bunny, The Tooth Fairy, The Boogey man, The Man on the Moon, Christopher Walken, the female orgasm, ghosts, aliens, and the myth that Halle Berry is actually black. How many of those things do you think are real?

I see 2.

Do you think for a minute your child will believe in something that you teach them when you lie to them about so much to begin with? If I was your kid I'd shoot you in the face with a bazooka that fires alligators, which is what I asked Santa Claus for, just to rub it in.

If any of you old school christians that "learn" everything you think you know by what your uneducated pastor tells you, The facts about Christmas, Saturnalia, Brumalia, the Winter Solstice, and the simple fact that none of your pagan adopted holidays have anything at all to do with God, Jesus, or Bee Arthur are easily researched. Don't bother trying to argue with people that actually know how to check facts and do proper research just because your momma told you there were three wise men. You might as well start burning your children alive in Gehenna like a true pagan.

I just found a website you can begin with right here. I haven't read that much and it might not be completely accurate, but that's not really my responsibility is it? Maybe some people won't make me do all the work for them and spoon feed 'em like little baby birds this time.

Anyway, have yourself some nice pagan debauchery and christian drunk parties this year. I can't wait to hear your New Years resolutions. If anything they probably involve sending Christopher Walken a big apology letter.

...and Welcome Back Black Gandhi, it's been a while.

The Nothing Report on Dating Fails

2009-12-15T15:30:00.000-08:00

Ever think about where your dream girl is hiding?

Picture by: Me

Yeah.......and here I thought the internet was there so you could lie about your weight. Turns out you can be truthful about that, but lie about how much you eat. Two wrongs apparently make one hell of a catch in this case.

Do we even wonder why there's no photo?

A Chick Going Into Labor is Anything But Silent

2009-12-11T08:39:00.000-08:00

I was at the local greasy spoon tonight pondering the existence of midi-chlorians as I usually do when an eerily familiar yet annoying sound wave crept into the holes in my head I like to call "head holes". What would you assume this little tidbit of musical enjoyment was?... None other than "Silent Night" by one of three thousand various singers that God himself naturally selected to perform in front of live patrons who just so happen to commonly consume "taters". I couldn't help but repeat to myself what could have possibly been running through the mind of this mystery shopper:

"You know, when I got out of bed today, I had the undying urge to take some of this hard earned money I got from working third shift at the gas station and just...throw it away. I thought long and hard about it for hours until a light bulb magically appeared above my head and suddenly, I had it! I think I'll go down to the most redneck establishment known to man and play Silent Night on the jukebox. What better way to please myself than to spend actual currency on a jukebox in a restaurant with a broken urinal and used food on the floor so other people can hear Silent Night just one more time."

Actually I was being generous. I did some rough math in my head and came to the conclusion that the complete thought probably went more like this:

"Hey y'all, check this sh*t out! I luuuuuv me some f*#%in' Jesus music!"

True story.

Cocaine is a Hell of a Drug...and Tile Cleaner!

2009-11-28T00:13:00.000-08:00

I finally realized why I don't have a vote in the Senate....but I forgot. I also found a new use for tile cleaner.

Is it plausible that I still believe the best line in a movie hasn't been written yet? Would I even remotely know where to begin in creating this line? Is it in a comedy, a drama, a suspense mystery, scat porn, or documentary about the virgin Mary appearing in a chicken nugget? Would it be a run-on sentence or maybe even contain Olde English vernacular? Would it be originally written in braille by a blind trailer skank from South Africa? Would it even bother said writer if there actually are no trailers in South Africa and the word "skank" is constantly triggered by the spell checker? (Actually, I have no idea about the trailer thing, but I'll deny it up and down to your face, because I loves me some African eye patches. Of course they look like air filters for an Oldsmobile Delta 88, but who really cares, We're in Africa!)

Now, if you're wondering what the previous statements have to do with anything......good luck with that. I'm actually a little overdosed on coffee, which helps to amplify my mutant ability, and also makes me poop a tad loosely; but enough about my stool....unless you're into talking about people's private pile, in which case I would like to expound on that subject with more detail and substance (so to speak) at a later date when we have more time on our hands, because frankly it's gonna be a long conversation. So what if I like to talk about my poop? Does that make me less appropriate then say.....a proctologist? At least I talk about my own and not some guy's that I just stuck my fingers in to find his Broke Back Mountain decoder ring. Tell you the truth, if I had that job I'd probably, maybe nine times out of ten, choose typing over handwriting because I'd constantly be getting poop all over my yellow lined paper; you know, that stuff you had to write gigantic letters on in the second grade right after you figured out what boogers taste like. They taste pretty good, but not as good as paste.........and I just remembered why I don't have a vote in the Senate..........nope, I lost it.

Anyway, If there's anything I learned from watching Saturday morning cartoons, it's definitely that prostitutes don't usually like to watch Saturday morning cartoons with you. Ah, the memories... That's actually the first time I had to pay four women, a parking meter, and a pond full of koi fish to watch TV with me. One hell of a weekend. I wish I could remember what I did with that tile cleaner....well, the other half.

Still....that blind African just keeps mumbling on an endless loop about butterflies in the sky.....and....I can't get him to stop.

Meal or No Meal

2009-11-24T15:58:00.000-08:00

The Holiday seasons always tries to catch me right as I'm trying to walk into the store....with a red apron and a bell. The Salvation Army (which is not an army, or even remotely interested in salvation, go figure) gives us on a yearly basis, the guilt trip of the century, which is almost as bad as maggots shooting up into your mouth from a nice fresh hunk of Casu Marzu. Here's my problem with the whole thing: If they're just standing outside taking handouts and then using the money for the homeless, then why the hell aren't they using their overhead to give the homeless an apron and a bell and drop them off right outside Wal-Mart? "Here we are! Best of luck to you." Would that not do the job? You could say, "If you give them the money, they'll just spend it on liquor or something." Are you kidding me? I spend it on liquor... and no one gives me handouts. I'd say that makes the score Bums = 1, Beau = 0. The problem is, The homeless are still homeless and the Salvation Army keeps expanding. So what if a 60-year-old veteran out on the off-ramp with a cardboard sign and twelve shirts on makes more money than I do? I say we just suit 'em up and see how it turns out. What's the worst that could happen? Now, people walking into Bed Bath & Beyond with the intention of purchasing a $450 waste basket (yes, they have those) get to meet the poor they're ignoring head on. I almost want to be homeless just so I can partake in the pandemonium.

I was just reading about how they call their peeps "clergy". Seriously? The Catholic church is the richest and most corrupt religion on the planet (oh yeah, and the sexy time with children thing) and the Salvation Army is using their terminology? So much for the church softball game. Believe me, I have no problem with a charitable organization, especially if there's no praying to statues or old, wrinkled penises in the niños, but it would be much easier to set up ways for the homeless to get their own hand-outs. I can't even count how many times I've been in my car with hardly any money on me, driving up the ramp to get to the house, with some lady pushing a shopping cart and staring me down like I'm a big meanie face for not emptying my wallet into the cart. Even better, get the homeless together on a giant truck and take them all to Deal or No Deal, let them each pick a case and they get to keep whatever they get......too bad every case will only have a $10 gift
card redeemable at Bed Bath & Beyond....... Howie, you're so sneaky..

Halloween is Like Wal-Mart Cosplay

2009-10-31T15:32:00.000-07:00

It's again one of those days that are supposedly there to either fatten wallets or entertain innocent children by doing things that don't normally make sense in any other context. Halloween is one of these "special days" among our all-time favorites like Saturnalia, Gluttony Day, Catholic Cherub Day, Abnormal Rabbit Reproduction Day, and the ever famous "It's Alright to Be a Drunk Today Day". We help that one out by "celebrating" Show Your Boobs for Beads Day and Mexican Alcoholic Day.

I'm known to be a dick for not celebrating holidays because it's my perogative to inform lonely people on Christmas that it has nothing to do with Jesus and they don't have to kill themselves because they don't have any family. Some people in my area will be upset tonight because it's raining. It's such a bitch to have to regret spending all that money for costumes for your greedy children and money on candy for greedy children you don't know, but that's what you get for thinking today is any more special than another.... plus there's that issue with candy being five times cheaper tomorrow and I'll be reaping the Reese's creamy goodness.

Of course my child was also subject to such nonsense because she lives in America, ergo she's subject to be dressed up like somebody's doll for entertainment, kind of like putting clothes on a dog. She'll be taught sooner or later to "say no to tradition", or in the words of christian America, be a dick like me. It's tough to have to explain to people that either I don't celebrate pagan holidays, their holidays just aren't that important to me, or I don't believe in Santa Claus. It's that last one that really puzzles the christians. Don't get me wrong I do believe in God, it's just the christians don't accept me into their little elitist group because I can prove that God doesn't torture people in literal fire forever. That's actually a pagan belief too, but that's a blog for another time. This one was supposed to be about Halloween, but for some reason I forgot math part way through.

Anyway, if you want to dress up and take your kid out to meet strangers and their candy, have at it. If you just need an excuse to be drunk with a bunch of other drunks, be my guest. If possibly you're really, really ugly and you're just trying to fit in...........I'll meet you there; But there's really no justification for trekkies today. You know you wear that outfit all the time.