Friday, March 28, 2008

I stole music. Fuck you recording industry. Know what else? I'm going to steal more tonight.

If I were going to die I would want to be scooped out with one of those pumpkin scoopers and filled with jelly beans!

I'd especially want the good kind of jellies, not the ones I grew up that taste like sugar and wax but the new kinds that have sours.  And not those Harry Potter jellies that taste like turds.  Especially not those.  If I want to taste a turd I'll roll my own, thank you.

But I'm not going to die.  (Jesus assures me of this in a contract he wrote on cigarette papers and Jesus doesn't lie.)

I'd want to be posed with my finger out in a scolding position but a wry grin on my face which said, "I caught you doing that bad shit but I'm not mad.  Your mother would be mad, but not your stuffed friend Ho."

I'd want to be housed in my house so my progeny can run around me in circles like some great waxen maypole and dance about me all the May long and then one day, when one of the small ones trips and knocks me over and smash I go onto the ground?

Well on that day is the day I planned for like that books by Isaac Asimov and all of my fragile skin vanishes like so much necrotic dust and on the floor in my place?

Jelly beans!

A million jelly beans like some cannibalistic pinata (can't find enyay) but not from Mexico because I have insurance and a job and pay taxes!

Then the kids run around eating jelly beans and even in death, I provide value.

Or maybe especially in death.

Or maybe only in death.

Know what else?

I wish meat really was murder cause I can see me in the prison yard and they say, "What you in for?"

And I look at them with a steel look and my blue eyes reflect the burning blasts of the sun and I look away and pause, just for a minute and then I look back and I take a puff of smoke from my cigarette cause why not smoke in prison and a grit my teeth like Dirty Hairy and I say...


Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Please draw me a picture of your naked body and put it in the mail. Make sure the boobs are big (even if that's a lie)

In the Heidi Montag and Spenser and all of them update furor from yesterday, I realized I forgot to tell you more about Easter and I'm sorry for that because I know you were so wondering if there was more to the story as says Paul Harvey.

How was your easter, by the way?  My how you can go on and on about yourself.  It's kinda selfish.

Anyway, me and the mrs. Ho was going on about a theological point, her yelling in my face -- the spittles striking me in the subtle eyelashes and forceful jowl -- me furiously scribbling my points on napkins and then burning them in the holy flame of the blessed tapers that I stole from the cathedrals because how many candles do you need?  It's kinda selfish of them if you think about it to make you pay to light a candle when you can just steal one and burn it all day for free.  I could buy one but the ones from the store ain't holy--probly Target has some holy ones.  They ain't been touched with the sweat of the lord.

Anyway, she was on and on about how Xmas was the holiest of holidays and I was all, touche, douche, it's easter which is the holiest.  She was all blah blah blah if he hadn't been born we'd all be Jews or Muslims and I let that blasphemy slip by because she scares me.

As a counterpoint I went to the bathroom and explained to my new dog that easter was the holiest because it's all about the resurrection.  It's the resurrection that makes Xmas look trivial.

Without the resurrection, Jesus is just another water-walker born from a ghost infected womb.

The resurrection pays the dividends. 

I'd like to tell you my dog agreed with me, but she don't talk.

I took her tongue with a sharp knife and a heavy look of I tried to warn you.

For reasons I'll later explain if I remember.

(I keep it in my pocket with my spectacles)

Monday, March 24, 2008

I know a feller died on the couch at 35 and some say it's couch poison but for my part I ain't too sure (he died on his side which seems unnatural)

Can you check this?  I've been kind of working out some equations on paper and i think I have the math right but one of the sigmas has me doubting (sigma4).

Sorry I was away so long but it was a long Easter revel which by now you've come to expect.

On Friday (good friday) I locked myself in my room for a three day experiment (I was entombed).  I intended a great intent, that of replaying the death of Jesus and the three day sleep in the cave but this was bed because I'm not a Jew from Israel but live in Omaha where we don't have caves.

So I got into bed with strict instructions to mrs. Ho not to disturb me (she was out of town) and there I lay eating those cheesy snacks and watching television.

For three long days I lay and almost got a bed sore and got crumbs everywhere and that was probly the worst of it.  It was the constant basketball that helped me through.  And the Holy Ghost who assured me the plan was a good one.

At the third day, which was Sunday, mrs. Ho opened the door and I quickly hid under the covers so that she could say, "Lo, where has he gone to? He must have gone unto the very heavens.  His corpse is no longer in yon cave where once we did bury him."  And then the weeping and gnashing and running for neighbors.

Instead she saw my lump of bed mass and then was sore vexed about the crumbs and all the things I was supposed to do and instead layed in bed even though I explained in furious sub-breath mutterings my intent to relive the sufferings. 

They were cheetos, truth be told and they were delicious. 

I was going to get one of those contraptions that float you down from the house but that seemed like a lot of work so instead I looked for the ham.  My intent was to float down and say, "Lo, fear not, it is I, Jesus, etc."  But it's a lot of work to build those things.

What about you?

Oh!  That reminds me.

More to the Heidi Montag situation.  Apparently she's related to Lauren Conrad, they are cousins or something and Heidi or Spenser did something to Lauren or Lauren done to them, I can't be sure...but something is clearly going on because it's on the cover of US.

Here, I'll read you the headline, it says:  I WAS STABBED IN THE BACK.  All in caps and the caps are Yellow.  Then:  Furious over Brody's surprise other woman.

So furious.

(I'm so furious I'm breaking my office mates pens.  All of them.  That's how furious I am over this Heidi Montag issue.)

So apparently we have a Brody to kill as well as a Spenser. 

Or something.

If you want to read the US and explain to me what I'm supposed to feel or care about, please mail me on the message boards or send me a self addressed stamp envelope.

And I won't write back.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Crab cakes are made of crabs

The first thing we have to do is kill all the liberal agitators.  They're always questioning on things that should best be left believed.  Is there a God, is it important to be at war with Iraq, should lasagna be king or should George Bush.  Wait, that's actually a valid one.

Let's kill all the liberals because they're fucking everything up for us.  That's the first thing we have to do.

The second thing we have to do is silence Heidi Montag.  Again she's on the cover of US weekly and again it's some complaint about something...she has been attacked or something.  It's really throwing me off my game.  I can't concentrate, my hands are shaking, I'm out of beef jerky...really fucking up my game.

The second thing is that Heidi Montag must vanish from either US Weekly or somewhere.  But certainly she must vanish from US Weekly, this much is certain.

The third thing is that we need to bring back slavery.  Not blacks cause I aint a racist (except against Mexicans (but they would be bad slaves, they're much better as low paid labor who are ruining our medical system and also ruining our society (but boy howdy isn't my grass cutting bill low))))) shit, where was I...

The third thing we need, etc, but not against blacks but this time Jews.  I could really use a slave around the house, particularly a sex slave but who I can also say, hey, you mind doing the dishes every day for the next 50 or so years?

Really do hate the dishes.

Any Jew found outside of Israel would be eligible.  Israel is the safe in tag when you get to the porch and you're safe there.  That's where they can be Israel.  And also in Iran but that's just to piss of that crazy president of theirs.  Whose name is unpronounceable.  Dingadongazamajinajod.

But one thing we should NEVER allow and I'll call this point number four...White protestant slaves.  Our hands are too soft to do anything meaningful and I fall asleep so easily.  I know that's not relevant but a nap would be nice.

I think I have a hangover.


Tuesday, March 18, 2008

I'm casting Jew magics on you

I was traveling on the only day that married couples can know one another (Saturday) and said to myself, why not try a little cyber?

I'm not good with new things.  I hate them, really.  I've done cyber a time or two but mostly I was drunk and it was with other boys who were online with girl names.

There's something about being w/ a cyber boy that is easier than a real woman because even when it's bad it's good, ya know?  With a girl it's a time investment.  Lots of feelings and describing the lighting and all that shit.  Or so I imagine.

For boys it's much easier, show me your titties, k I'm done.  That's how easy.  Boys have it easy.

So there's Mrs. Ho (she goes by Ms. Ho cause she's a feminist hippie (all hippies are feminists and all feminists...etc)) online and here's how we spent a lovely cyber session (I'll be online all week).

Me:  Hey.  I'm real sorry I had to travel on a Saturday, I know how much this day is to you...

Her:  ?

Me:  You know...when we get to spend time alone...

Her:  What the fuck are you talking about?


Her:  Why didn't you just say that?

Me:  Anyway, sorry...

Her:  That's fine, maybe next Saturday.

Me:  I thought maybe we could try some cyber?

Her:  What's that?

Me:  That's when we type sex-type things back and forth ... it's kinda like cyber sex.

Her:  I don't know...sounds kinda weird...

Me:  No, it's totally fine, I do it in warcraft all the time...

Her:  wtf?

Me:  No, it's with boys pretending to be girls so it's cool...

Her:  If you give me aids, god help me...

Me:  No, no I play it safe and plus my resistance gear is awesome!  I'm like +200 against aids.  Not as good as my fire gear but still nothing to sneeze at.

Her:  Ok, if you start, I'll try it.

Me:  Ok...well, the lights are really low and I have candles burning and they're that scent you like...

Her:  Coconut?

Me:  Yeah, coconut...and I get out some oil and I'm rubbing it on your shoulders...

Her:  Oh, god, it's pachuli oil, isn't it?

Me:  Well, yeah, it's all we had...

Her:  We had it because it stinks like hippies.  Dirty hippie girls running around the market looking for pennies with their long dirty hair and you rubbed that shit all over me.  Now I need a shower.

Me:  Ok, I go out to the store and I get some non-scented oil and I come back and I start rubbing that on your shoulders.


Me:  Ok, I run a bath first and add...

Her:  Are you done, yet?

Me:  Done before we started.

Monday, March 17, 2008

Pinching you, pinching you, I am somg pinching you! (But not you, Jew--go get your own holiday and this time don't base it on Xmas, please) (and please no dradle, k? we don't care (plus it's called a top, not a dradle))

If I had to vote for a king of the United States of America, it would probably be a vote for George Bush or lasagna.  It's a tough choice of which I love more.  In fact, it's such a hard choice that you'd be cruel to make me choose between one of them.  Kinda like Sofie's Choice but deeper.  Deeper tones and long term impacts.  In fact?  Fuck you.  I won't pick.  Take that, boss man.

Since it's Monday, you need a quiz.  Sitting around all weekend sucking dick will no longer do.  You need to buck up and get serious about life.  I hope you pass the quiz, though.  If you don't, you might die today.  Or you might not.  Depends on your grade.

Multiple choice:

a.)  You should go to medical school.
b.)  You should NOT go to medical school.

The answer is a.

If you guessed b then your a retard who has to go back to retard school.


True or false, you should NOT go to medical school.

The answer here is true.  You should not go to medical school.  If you answered true, you probably meant false, it was a badly written question and I'll throw it out.  There.  Settled.  No medical school for you. 

Oh...bad news.  I said that Spencer cheated on Heidi.  I might have been wrong there, so please don't kill him, yet (or do, it's not really that important).  The caption (I do read the captions, they're short and hold my attention) said that Spencer wronged Heidi.  I assumed cheated on but that's because I'm a man.  We cheat.  It's what we do.  God tells us to.  It's in Genesis.  Go ye forth and cheat, ye men of Sodom.  I'd cheat on her.  She has a dog's face but such boobs!

Happy Pat's day. 

Go get ye drunk.

I know I will.

Friday, March 14, 2008

Here's a song I wrote: Hey, Heidi Montag, hey Heidi will you be my bride, hey Heidi will you be my love slide?

I have some good news and some bad news.  The bad news is that if you sit on a toilet for 2 years in a row, the toilet lid will grow to your legs and the parameds will have to come and pry the seat off and hoist you to the hospital.  The sores will open and then the flesh fixers in your body will pus up and actually then bond to the plastic of the seat.  That is the bad news.

More bad news is that they can see your business the whole way there because your bum and such are still visible because you are living on a toilet.  Plus when they pull that lid from your legs, it hurts.  I bet it hurts.  And I bet it stinks.

And what's more there is no good news.  That was a lie and I told you that lie because I wanted to soften your pain at being stuck to a toilet seat.

I wonder how you wipe if your legs are stuck to a toilet.  You kinda can't lean.

I have so many questions for this woman.


I do have good news, after all.

Remember that Heidi Montag issue?

Well, I have more news for you.  Apparently she was cheated on (or something) by Spencer!

The sad news is that I don't know who Spenser is, neither.  Nor do I know why that is news in Us Weekly.  But it is.  Big news.

That fucking Spenser.  So mad.

Furthermore, let's all find Spenser and kill him so that Heidi can rest in peace and also so we can get back to what Brittney is doing.  I'm had enough of Spenser and Heidi Montag to last a thousand years.

I guess you know it's Friday.

I have some other news.  The Jew army has been staying at my house and they're eating me out of gifeltafish.  I'm down to 3 jars and I hope they go back to Israel before I need to go back to the kosher store near my house.

And what's more?

Well, I always suspected that pilates was for fags and now I's for fags who are in really good shape.  Here's how I found out...

I was in a manager meeting and I was discussing the rules and procedures we should implement so that we have productive SLAs and such and I was telling the woman next to me ... well, I told her this:  "I heard in pilates class that if you do crunches you can reduce the size of your menopause pooch."

It was at that moment that everyone fingerpointed me like that Body Snatcher movie and started shouting, Fag!

The boys, anyway.  I really have a lot of good girlfriends out of the incident, though.

Anyway, I'm going to a concert tonight and I hope to see you there.

If you see me, please don't make eye contact.

I hate that.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

I'm a cheat and a liar, no woman's desire

This got kinda long and I feel (bad about that and...) like probably you should read something different instead of the long ramble.  Like the bible.  Go read the bible, sinner.

I think I'm suffering from Carbonite Sickness.  I have all the signs -- classic case, really -- sore throat, beleaguered nose, breathing with my mouth open seems to exacerbate and the only time I feel better is when I am drinking.

Help me out and shoot me with your rich ray and I don't even care if it stings a little and shoot me in the fleshy parts of the ass where all the good shots go the ones from my youth except the polio vaccine which makes a scar to last into the future and this is not a sexual innuendo but I want to be fatso in the dough.

I have discovered a cure for the gay parts of AIDS.  Listen up gays and this could possibly save your life.  The cure is to marry a woman and have vaginal sex at least once a week (and no more boys).  Additionally you must let your lawn get long and out of shape and you have to grow a great beard like that crazy Rasputin sported.  This cure will not work from the straights though because they became sick from promiscuity and that's the devil's food cake.

Hey, who is Heidi Montag other than some blonde girl with big fat titties and an unfortunate face?  No, not Tori Spelling, not that unfortunate.  I'm usually up on the news, I steal the neighbor's Us magazine several times a month and I'd like to lie to you and tell you I read the articles but I don't.  Fuck, maybe there aren't any articles, how would I know?  I look at the pictures which is worth 1 thousand more points than the words according to the wise men.  And lately it's all oh, let's all cry about Heidi Montag and I'm all, that bitch with big fat tittes?  Apparently so.  So cry for her cause she has some crazy shit going on at the moment and needs your salty support.

Hey, where's that site with the 4 thousand dollar call girl?  I seen her boobies on the innernet but they're all fuzzed out like I'm a child what never seen titties before.  I want to see them up close.  I know that's boyish of me but that's how I was raised.  Never settle for smudged boobs.  I wish I had 4 thousands of dollars.  I'd bury her in 20s then crawl through them looking for her.  Maybe 1s.  Can you bury someone in 4 thousands worth of 20s?  How many 20s are in 4 thousand?  Like 8?  I should have stayed in school.  I know lots of guys say this, but how is it that you can show some guts in the street but you can't show the local naked harlot?  I blame Dan Rather for this.

My feet stink.  I should chop them off with a hammar.  Do you think nubs stink?  Do they go into shoes and then get all stinky or is it just a virtue of a sweaty foot?  If you have a nub, please drop me a line on the message boards and tell me.

Hey, guess what?  I went to Von Maur 3 times last week and didn't even get shot once nor even shot at.  I wonder what my odds are now of getting shot at a mall.  Probly ...3:1.

Here's my poem about Lance Armstrong:

lance armstrong is a tiger, fierce and bold
he lives by his wits and has a keen sense of smell
he is an animal living entirely in the moment
he is outside the scope of time
and space

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Look at my thumb (and other stupid things I must have said when drunk)

Sorry I've been away so long, I've been designing new message board functionalities for my sight.  My goal is so that we can chat back and forth via message logs.  You can tell me your thoughts and I can respond every time, "Lol.  Your a pretty retard."

So far it's only in analog form.  In this analog version you're saying, "I've found a new mathematical constant...blah blah blah."  It's not very impressive, really.  Bragger.  You are not your deeds, can't you see that?  You mean everything to me.  Let's make love?

So, I had an interesting day.

I had constipation so bad that they needed to hook me up to a Pitocin drip.  No amount of coffee was going to pass that baby through that tender canal.

I also had a nurse practitioner with me.  I wanted a midwife but the insurance wouldn't pay for it, so I settled on conventional Western medicine.

The nurse had me doing all kinds of crazy breathing!  I'll be honest I thought I was going to hyperventilate!  It was that close.  It was touch and go, really.  And by touch and go I mean she touched me down there to see how things were coming along.

At one point she said to me, she said, "We may have to deliver this vaginally."

I was confused but I'll tell you this.  It was on.  FULL POWER!

So, long story, short, but for some slight rectal tearing I'm as good as now.  But you can darn well bet that I'm eating prunes at this very moment!

Have a nice day if you can.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

The two ton tongue is a heavy load hammered to the same tree that had that guy who had to cut his own leg off to escape (and he used a pocket knife, remember) (proofreading is for pussies)

I seen something today in the sky and I'm not really sure what to say about it except to go on the message boards and tell everyone that I seen a backwards S in the sky.

I initially thought it was a stack of smoke but then the S moved around and became lopsided and then I knew it was birds.

But the reverse S was clear as frozen boogers until the birds started fucking around into new patterns.  Eventually they turned into a vulgar, bulging V as they are wont to do but it wasn't a very good V.  I'd give it a C if they were in class and I would then show them movies of what good Vs can be.  Movies from the 50s when they knew things.

Six seconds after seeing the reverse S, three hearses pulled in front of me.  The trailing hearse had a personalized license plate that read Hussein or some such scary arab name.  Maybe it was Husein1.  I forget.  It certainly was arab and I certainly did back up off it in case of explosions.  It definitely was not Jewsein.  To this I will swear in court under a stack of holy Bibles.  A stack of six holy Bibles and a side of pancakes, to be quite clear.  Make that seven Bibles for seven is a holy number.

Not seven seconds after the terror train I heard the word death on the radio.  I heard it clearly.  It was not to the tune of, you will see your death today,  Ho.  It was not that clear.  It was more to the tune of so and so's death.  I forget the context, only I heard the word and it struck me...what is this sequence of events?  Is it a herald to my doom?  I must tell you I took action.

Instantly I did the genuflexes.  I dug my sharp nails into first my forehead, then my chest, over my heart and finally my left and rights.  I dug in deep (the red mark is still visible on my forehead) so that Jesus knew I meant it.  I also drove in the left lane at a rate some five miles below the regulars.  I drove like an old man on his way to the doctor.

I must tell you that dying today would really fuck up my plans of living forever.  So far The Plan To Live Forever has been working.  No kinks.  No cancer.  No explosions.  No nothing.

So all of that was clear to me and I made it to work and now have not much more to go in the day.

But what of the backward S?  Is that some kind of bizarro world reference to Superman?  Is it a symbol of declining financial prowess of the United States?

And what of the hearses?  I half-wondered if all arabs have hearses and that's why so many suiciding.  Great for business.  If I blew 22 then who would benefit (other than me with the virgins which you get when you die right)?

Right, Uncle Hussein's Hearses.

What do the ones get who don't die martyrs?  Used women?

How sad is that?

Monday, March 10, 2008

My Chest Hairs have Chest Hairs (And they're gray chest hairs to boot) (I think they're starting a gray chest hair colony and soon they'll be sending shoots into my ears and nose like what the old people have)

I got a warning for you so you can advance your career more than you done.  I meant to give you a Valentine warning so you could advance your love life but then I forgot.  So here's the Valentine warning but I want you to switch the word Valentines with the word Daylight Savings--OMG Springs Forward!!

Make sure you remember that it's Valentine's day tomorrow or you won't get laid and your wife will leave you.  If you're a girl you can forget it's Valentine's day because boys don't care about chocolate candies (but I know you won't forget because you want to test your man to see if he forgets (he will) and when he does you can do that sigh which means, how do I suffer you).

So don't forget to spring forward for your career even though you'll have a hard time getting out of bed.  On the other hand, other than sleep, it's not like there's much keeping you in bed.  But that's because you didn't heed the Valentines warning, isn't it.

You never listen.  It makes me sad but I guess all I can do is tell you things.  And you not to listen.

Today I got a two ton tongue like it's weighted down with gum.  I think I should work it out but I got nothing to chomp on.

Anyway, I have more to say but I don't know how to say it because I got a two ton tongue and she makes the words come out think and slow.

I'll say it later.  Maybe.

Wednesday, March 05, 2008

Jesus ruins all the surprises

I have some good news and some bad news.  The bad news first.  The bad news is that I'm all out of vodka.  This is also the good news.  I'm tempted to try going a night without drinking but then the bigger temptation is to not.

I think they should make a word that represents the absence of a hangover.

Some douchebags would call that word alcoholism and they would be foolish and wrong.  The real word is alchoholist and that's what I am.  A professional in my field.  Like a surgeon but drunk all the time.  And pays less.  But much better company.

Also, I think Jodi Foster is a lesbian.  She's never in the tabloids with any men and she has that mystery baby and I know that must have taken some work without a man.

I think she's pretty pretty for a lesbian.  Lots of people think that lesbians are all hot and like to suck a little dick between the women they keep and that's pretty much true (as I understand it and I heard it from People magazine so you can pretty much believe me).

Like every rule there are exceptions, of course.

If you had to choose to sleep with Rosie Odonnel or Martina Navratalova, whom would you choose?  And don't try to throw in some sneaky I'll go with Rosie's wife, thanks.  I'm talking boysbians here, not the wife of a boysbian.

I'd choose Martina because I bet she smells like soap.  Like one of those soaps that jocks use.  Irish Spring.  They carve it with a pocket knife.  I bet Rosie don't.  I'm not saying she stinks but I'll bet she washes less than Rosie.  Maybe I'll ask her on her blog but I feel kinda sensitive about that.  So I probly won't, she'd likely take it out of context.

Know what else?  I bet the used vibrator market isn't as robust as you might initially think.  Probly is available.  I bet even if you say it's slightly or gently used you don't sell too many of them.  Cause I'm in the market for one.  If you have one.  Shoot me a note on the message boards.  We'll haggle.