A brief spike in traffic

For 3 days running I had over 100 views to the site, akin to a miracle.  I’m not that interesting, so it must’ve all been for recent Jeopardy! contestant Rachel Lindgren.

It’s my duty to warn you thirsty nerds AGAIN that smart women are not a solution to anything and being a sapiosexual is a road to nowhere.  If she’s smart while you’re enamored (subtract 25 IQ points for each boob and asscheek) you’re in QUADRUPLE the danger of being manipulated.  Not that I overly give a shit what happens to you, you’re probably better off than me.

I believe this blog is now 10 or 11 years old, which means little because I rarely posted after 2009, was it?  It has brought me neither joy nor grief, certainly no money or gavina.  I don’t read my own shit so I’ve forgotten most of it, except to remember impassioned movie reviews about Batman (pointless) or politics (far more pointless) and cussing out my wage slave job while doing nothing to improve my lot in life.

Two things happened in the last 5 years which changed the entire arc of my  inclinations, I got out of the shit job and I “discovered” whores.  Also, my father died  at 73 of natural causes, if you count lung cancer as natural.

The whores saved my life.  Once I was getting laid fairly regularly all the Mysteries of Womanhood evaporated, which was bittersweet, but poetry is either written out of your system or it burns you from the inside out like drinking bleach.  Poetry IS drinking bleach, usually for the reader. 

The women’s humanity made me less of a misogynist, and it even seemed a few of them enjoyed the ride beyond getting paid.  (I haven’t been laid in over a year due to health problems so that’s on pause.)

I’m closer to 50 than 40 now.  I’m not better than I was in 2006, but like to think I’ve learned much the last 10 or 11 years.  I wouldn’t trade my scant “life’s work” of writing for falling in love.   

Here are the final lines from a long ago poem.

I know it’s coming, death or a balloon.

The slitted eyes of a petted cat.

Regarding Election Thief/Failed Comedian Al Franken

Still avoiding political “news”, nonetheless, in the immortal words of J. Seinfeld: “I hear things.”

In the past 24 I’ve seen no less than three fakenews promotions seeking the opinions of Election Thief/Failed Comedian Al Franken, one about trans-comic Kathy Griffin being edgy, another about SNL being funnier last season (somewhat true) and the last yet another falsehood for the Trump/Russia meme.  It’s truly astonishing leftards are still beating that dead horse which is now a powdered skeleton. No serious voter believes Trump/Russia, nor should they since there’s (still) zero evidence. (Evidence, facts, logic: the Holy Trinity which no liberal argument survives.)

So why the sudden interest in what Election Thief/Failed Comedian Al Franken thinks about anything?

Fakenews is bolstering this doofus for a 2020 presidential run. No, really.

Currently, Election Thief/Failed Comedian Al Franken denies wanting the presidency but that means nothing.  If I had the momentum I’d sure as hell do it.  Unlike Rabbi Trump, I actually give zero fucks about anything except Making America Great Again, but that’s a rant for another time. 

Cosmetically speaking, Election Thief/Failed Comedian Al Franken has no shot at the presidency. Curly Fries hair, stupid fugly smirk, glasses and everyone’s favorite.  The bow on the package? Not remotely funny, not even by SNL standards.  When Election Thief/Failed Comedian Al Franken traded comedy for politics, he literally had NOTHING to lose.

If Election Thief/Failed Comedian Al Franken had won his 2008 election against Norm Coleman fairly I could leave off here, but the facts are Election Thief/Failed Comedian Al Franken stole that election.  If Ann isn’t your cup of tea, google or youtube “Al Franken stole election.”

Whether you lose an election by a single vote, or 725 like Election Thief/Failed Comedian Al Franken YOU STILL LOSE.

Because RINOs didn’t fight Election Thief/Failed Comedian Al Franken’s fraudulent victory, communistcrats were able to pass obozocare.

Hard to decide who’s worse, Republicans for being spineless thots or democrats for existing.

 

Three Reasons Not to Suicide:

1)  You’ll spoil your record of perfect attendance.  You’ve been alive since you were born. Even when you’ve been knocked out cold you were still alive.  You’ve survived chicken pox, the dentist, learning how to ride a bike, maybe even had sex once or twice.  If you kill yourself, that all gets wiped out.

 

2)  Death is not an escape.  You know how life works, it’s the same shit over and over again in different packaging.  Do you really think the Designer of so nefarious a world would provide such an easy way out?  Have you ever tried getting out of a cell phone contract?  It doesn’t have to be the threat of a fiery Hell to stick around either:  you could come back to earth, only with a smaller penis, or as a Siamese twin, sharing a smaller penis.

 

3)  Death is guaranteed.  No one ever got to the ticket window and heard, “I’m sorry, we’re all out of death.”  Death is coming anyway, why pay extra for 2-day shipping?  God only kills happy people.  Make Him do the work.

 

 

There you have it, three reasons not to suicide.  Not very good reasons, but some kind of lubricant is always better than none.

From May 2014

Kylo Ren, don’t make me feel gay

 

I don’t like feeling gay.

Gay in this sense has nothing to do with homosexuality, it’s a kind of shame or embarrassment by association with an object or idea ruined by obviousness, obnoxiousness or nescience.

The word “ghey” has been offered as a way to describe this feeling but it’s bullshit for two reasons:

1) ‘Gay’ had several other meanings before homosexual, and gays from that time forward didn’t offer an alternate spelling to separate themselves from the original meaning.

2) The well-intentioned but foolish adopter of “ghey” is left having to spell G-H-E-Y after saying, “gay” so as not to offend nearby gays. Who needs extra work?

Saw this today at the supermarket and yes, it made me feel gay:

I understand putting other SW characters on the boxes, including the fucking soccer ball that doesn’t need to eat. But how can Kylo Ren, wimpy-named villain and Vader groupie give a fuck about nutrition or pleasing kids, especially with a product name as GAY as GO-GURT?

More laughable is the new SW movie is rated PG-13, which means there’s a possibility of KR decapitating some poor fool with a lightsaber. This could be the Madonna/Pepsi controversy of this decade, especially since the new lightsaber looks like a burning cross.

 

 

 

 

And then there’s this:  

 

SLURP SABER.  

Slurp Saber…is funny.  

 

VITAL UPDATE:  The Force Awakens has been out for a few weeks.  By featuring Kylo Ren, Go-Gurt is advocating patricide.  Seems about right. 

 

In honor of the new film Straight Outta Compton…

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the Spirit of Bill Hicks

Fuckfield #9

It’s Too Late

I have no fans, and that’s fine with me. Much has happened since I last picked up the keyboard for more regularly blogged bullshit. As filmed, the story would be minor happy events in an overall tragedy as opposed to some bloodless low points in a comedy. Sounds about right for almost everyone.

I’m slowly dying of some rare blood disease that damages only the kidneys. Really, I wish my kidneys would fail already. I would quietly collect SSD and get dialysis 3 times a week if it meant not having to ever work again, facing the ugliness of the human race every fucking day.

There are still a few good things left in life:  Oreos, cannabis, taking a shit, internets, reading history, jacking off. There are even hookers that will come to your door!

Contrary to what salesfolk are forever claiming, there is a time when nothing you do or try or buy will save your sorry ass. That time is called “It’s Too Late” and for me, it’s already here. I never try to tally up the reasons I have to live another day, there really aren’t any. I’ve abandoned this life…the mp3 player is still counting the song from both ends but the music stopped long ago.

I told the Guru I HATE God, but I told him in an email.  No response.  That was years ago.  When he does answer it’s usually with, “Have you tried meditating?”  He’s not being a smartass.  God is.

Sadly, there is no Satan to worship. Don’t matter who you cry out to; no god—good or evil—returns messages.

I want to get black t-shirts made with IT’S TOO LATE right across the chest in bright yellow. More than any demon, those words frighten people, with truth.

F*ck off Toyota and f*ck you, little sh;t

I hate this obnoxious character, “Nathan James” and I hate all kids with “wild” hair.

The thrust of these ads is that the new Toyota Highlander is a cool vehicle, as opposed to “dorky”.  Had no idea this was so important to consumers.  Forget quality, mileage, handling and price, what I want to know upfront is if this is a vehicle my 9-year-old son thinks is cool!

As usual, the Father is made to look like a hapless, clueless ass. Is it good business sense to insult one-half of your prospective consumer base?

Do the geniuses at Toyota know that ‘dork’ is slang for prick, cock, penis, lingam, etc?

This is not a case of,  “Back in my day, children were respectful.”  This is a case of Fuck Off, Idiots.

Fuckfield #8