Living in America

The biggest story in the news today here in America is the 'scandal' of one of our finest NFL stars having committed an unforgivable sin.

Larry Johnson

Larry Johnson, star running back for the Kansas City Chiefs, is in deep trouble with the bitches who run the National Femmeball League. He's been suspended from playing for the next 2 weeks, which is as big a blow to the Kansas City Chiefs as it is to Larry himself because they desperately need him. There is talk the NFL wants to suspend him permanently.

So what did Larry do? Did he allegedly spread herpes to some random woman in Miami? No, that's old news.

Did he rape someone? No.

Beat his girlfriend? No.

Kick a clown? Punch a child? Piss on a portrait of Obama?

No, no, no.

Larry said "fag."

Yep, that's it. That's what he did. And now it's all over the news and supposedly a huge scandal. This big, mean, evil, dark-skinned athlete has 'victimized' anyone in America who considers themself to be a 'fag' by using a word that gay guys use to describe each other all the time.

Keep in mind, Larry didn't say "I hate all gay people. They are fags." He wasn't even talking to any gay people, as far as anyone knows. He wasn't even actually talking about gay people. He was expressing intense frustration at the way the Kansas City Chiefs football team is being run and coached. He was making it clear that he did not wish to talk to reporters.

But here in the land of Political Correctness, facts don't matter. All that matters is that he has sinned against the Church of Pride and Corruption and must be punished.

Of course, if he had said "honkies" or "crackers" or "fucking white people" then there would be no scandal. The NFL would surround him with cheerleaders and protest anyone who criticized by declaring that he has a First Amendment right to spew hatred of white people. Just not gays, lesbians, women, blacks, Jews, hispanics, Democrats, muslims, labor unions, atheists, or the current half-black, bastard President.

American C$ar

Meanwhile, Barack Obama's unelected, unaccountable, Marxist "pay czar" has ruled that our greatest minds in finance and banking must not be paid in accordance with their skills, but instead must be punished for being so rich. This is how communists treat the intelligentsia - they destroy them. And along with them, all productivity and progress. This is why they refer to themselves as "progressives." It all makes sense in Opposite World. And this is deemed to be not news.

princess pelosi
American Prince$$

The Communist Party's "health care bill" is certainly news. Its intention of destroying the free market system that has been responsible for the vast majority of advances in medicine over the past 50 years has been made clear and clearly written in, but we mustn't stop long enough to think or even read it. No, we must simply sign it and leap over the cliff before anyone has a chance to ask any questions. This is 'leadership'. This is Marxism. Yay! Oh, and more taxes for all of us because this new cheaper alternative costs a shitload more than the old free-market system.

feminist icon lisa nowack
Crazy Lisa Nowak

NASA is preparing a new rocket to take Americans back to the moon. True, we've already been there, but after 40 years of affirmative action we've found it rather difficult to get back. The biggest obstacle now, aside from the fact that most of the government funding has been sidetracked to feminist organizations and labor unions, is the battle over whether the first astronaut to step onto the moon's surface and make a scripted politically correct remark will be black, female, gay, or all three. No white males need apply for this job.

2 Jewish men were shot in the legs and abdomen by a black man while outside their synagogue in LA. It appears the man was aiming for their groins, like the police do, but missed. Since the shooter isn't a white male he won't be charged with a hate crime. It's just too confusing to try to sort out which privileged group is the more privileged when no one involved is a white male.

I've been sick with some sort of stomach virus all week. Sitting at home flipping channels and sleeping a lot is not my idea of a good time, but it's the time I'm having. Not even Facebook or Twitter can take away the boredom. Actually, I've spent little time on either while sitting at home with nothing to do. Odd, isn't it? I wonder what that means?

I have a female friend who is confusing the hell out of me. About a year ago she asked me to stop associating with a male friend of hers with whom she had had a falling out. She made it clear that should I wish to continue associating with him, she would no longer speak to me or have anything to do with me. Well, I cared far more about her than I did him. I only knew him through her, after all, so I agreed. Now I discover that for the past 3 months they have been friendly again. Nothing has been said to me. I am still prohibited from speaking to him, as far as I am aware.

Here is a quote from a genuine American leader from long ago. I know that at least half of America won't fully understand the meaning behind this, but I am going to put it out there anyway:

"If you want total security, go to prison. There you're fed, clothed and given medical care. The only thing lacking ... is freedom."
Dwight Eisenhower, 34th U.S. President

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Desitooted Driver

iPhone Jesus
Text me, my child

It's Friday and it's raining. I think this is a major crime against humanity. If it's going to rain, it should save it up for Monday and, if necessary, Tuesday and Wednesday. Even Thursday. 4 solid days of rain during the work week is better than raining on a Friday. I just think it's wrong. So, since I'm a Christian and all, I'm texting God to bitch about this.

"Dear Lord, please stop making it rain on Friday. This is totally unfair and it really pisses me off. I'm not saying I'm blaming YOU. Please don't strike me with lightning or have my mother sideswipe my car again. It's just that I know you could move the rain to Monday if you wanted to, so I thought I'd just ask if you'd do this for me, please. Amen. Oh, and also, that thing I said before about Jessica Biel still goes. If I could just have one shot, that's all I ask, just one shot, I'd be eternally grateful."

I realize there's nothing in the Bible about anyone texting God, and I can't tell you how much trouble it was to get his mobile number, but even so, I'm texting him like mad. Some people I know pray all the time. Some people text all the time. I combine the two. I even forward funny pictures and dirty jokes people send me to God. He hardly ever replies, but one time I got a holy "LOL" and it was the high point of my week. Oh, and one time he texted me a picture of Jesus doing "the shocker."

I'm going to traffic school tomorrow. I travel 400 miles each week through three Southern-American states and I pass through a lot of tiny little speed-trap towns along the way. So when I got a Barney Fife ticket for driving along in the middle of a herd of cars in rush hour and the cop said "you were just going the same speed as everyone else, weren't you?" as he proceeded to write me up anyway, I said, "fuck this shit, I'm not having this on my driving record."

Not to his face, of course.

So anyway, I signed up for traffic school. When I went to the tiny little courthouse to sign up, 'cuz you have to do it in person, I got into a conversation with the two black ladies who work there.

"Oh hun, I got a ticket just last week in the next town over. They're a bigger speed trap town than we are even. He said I was driving with my parking lights on and that made him madder than a pedophile. I said "whaaaat?? Madder than a pedophile? Are you crazy? That don' make no sense at all." And he got all up in my face. He was all red, you know. I think there was something wrong with him."

We talked there in that office for an hour. Those ladies had me laughing my ass off.

"We have a man livin' 'roun' here, he's about 80 and he fought in Vietnam or WWII or sumthin'. He gets ta drinkin' and then he gets caught drivin'. So he was tryin' ta tell me that he can't get no DUI ticket 'cause he weren't drivin'. He say, "I had me a desitooted driver." I said, "A what?" And he say, "A desitooted driver." You know what he mean, right, a designated driver? I never laughed so hard. That poor man. He's so old he can barely see."

I swear to you, I asked for something to write on so I could write that down. I want to get me a bumper sticker that says "Desitooted driver" and put it on my mom's car. I just love that.

"Yesterday," the woman started telling me, "we had a man all upset 'cause he gots a ticket for speedin' and he didn' like the officer. He said he felt that the officer "jupiterized" his life. He said "I was in fear 'cuz he done jupiterized my life." You know what he say, jeopardized his life? I say, "he done whaaaaat?" An' he say "he jupiterized my life." An' I laaaaaaaughed!"

I think those women have more fun at their jobs just because of the crazy people they deal with than anyone I know. They seemed to be having the best time when I went in there. I wish my job was as much fun as that.

So anyway, tomorrow is traffic school with people who claim to have had desitooted drivers or who have had their lives jupiterized. I'm hoping it's a lot of fun. After that, it's a big Halloween party. I'm going as Captain Morgan, the pirate on the rum bottle. I told my niece about it and she didn't seem too impressed.

"You're going as a guy on a bottle of rum?"

"Yeah, and I'm bringing the rum for the party, too, just to make sure they know who I am."

"What does your costume look like?"

"I have a big pirate hat and long hair and a mustache and goatee thing, the coat and poofy shirt. I've got two pistols to put in my belt just like he has. And I have a real sword."

"A real sword? Your costume came with a real sword?"

"No, I already had the sword."

"Oh, of course you did, because, I mean, who doesn't have a sword lying around, right?"

So, yeah, I'm going to Halloween as Captain Morgan. And yes, I have an authentic pirate-approved sword that I just happened to have lying around from a long, long time ago. Don't laugh. The costume is SO much cooler with the sword.

Captain Morgan rum
I'd like to put a little Captain in Jessica Biel

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No Anal Please

I was up late, late, late last night writing a lovely post for all of you, my three loyal readers, when I suddenly looked at it and realized, "this is utter shit." So I stuffed it away and here I am with no time and really nothing specific to say.

Have you ever noticed how the women in porn films try so hard to make any and every sexual act look like they just love, love, love it? But when it comes to taking it in the ass, well, even the best of the porn stars can't make it look like anything other than ... porn. They try to make the patented open mouth and moan expression, but in unguarded moments, or rather unedited, the look on their faces just says "get your dick out of my ass, you fuckhead!" It's true. God never intended for porn stars to take it up the ass. That's why he gave them vaginas and extra large mouths.

Did you read the news story about the Balloon Boy? Yeah, I could link to it, but I'm too lazy and if you haven't already read it by now then chances are it held no interest for you so why would you click the link this time, right? See, I'm always thinking about shit like this.

Is it just me, or are all of you, my Blogrades, noticing that as you write a new post Blogger underlines every single word, as if they are all misspelled? What's up with that? Maybe it has changed my settings to Chinese and expects me to write in little cartoon characters? I should probably check that.

Madonna is in the news again. Her neighbor has called the cops on her for being too loud and obnoxious. Remember when Madonna would be in the news for fucking donkeys and ugly Italian men with porn mustaches and shit like that? Now she's in the news for being a lousy neighbor. My how times have changed. I'll bet even Madonna can't make anal look like she's enjoying it. Speaking of that, doesn't Sean Penn have a face that looks like he's perpetually taking it up the ass and is not happy about it? It's true. Go Google him and see for yourself. No, I'm not going to upload a fucking picture. Geez, you are SO lazy.

America has another scientist spy that has been caught selling our national secrets. Stewart Nozette said he thought he was selling our secrets to Israel, which somehow makes it OK I guess. But as it turns out, he was selling them to Canada. Yep, those damn Canadians are always sneaking across our borders in Zambonis and blowing shit up. Damn Maple Leafs fans! We'll get you one of these days, eh!

There's a fabulous article out on Yahoo about tired people (me) and various things we do at the office that zap our energy. Or is it 'sap' our energy? Anyway, I'm not going to Google something as stupid as zap vs sap, so let's just build a bridge and get over it so we can move on, shall we?

Energy Zapper #1 - Being addicted to email

OK, I get way too much email and that's a fact. I get email all over the damn place. I even have an email account that is so old, almost everything in it is junk emails that overwhelm me. So I mostly abandoned that account. Yes, I gave you that email address, Steph, and I know you emailed me there once, but I almost didn't even see it because it was stuffed between emails from Senator Lamar Alexander and Men's Health Girlish Tip of the Week. But I'll be honest with you guys, lately I have been flipping through my email like a German speed train, trashing anything and everything I just don't have time to give a shit about and only responding to emails that are very, very important (hot girls.) It does eat too much of my time and detract from my productivity, that's for sure. But it's not half as bad as it used to be when I felt compelled to repond to every single email.

Energy Zapper #2 - Visual Clutter

OK, you got me. I have projects out the ass and little piles relating to each project all around my office. And on the corner of my desk is a pile of newspapers relating to the financial and political events of the day, which has been depressing the hell out of me these past 2 years, but nevertheless, is important for me to know. But as I complete the projects, the little pile associated with it goes either into the recycle bin (yay, I'm SUPER green here) or else into a folder in case I need to refer back to it at a later date. Of course, the projects I keep in a folder, I never need to refer back to, and the projects I recycle I always do. That's just how it works. Fuck me.

Energy Zapper #3 - Being bored

Listen, life is never boring when you work primarily with Microsoft products. Frustrating as hell maybe. Lots of screaming and cussing and throwing things across the office, sure. But boring? Never.

Energy Zapper #4 - Poor Posture

Oh come on, have you ever seen a genius at work in his office? I used to know a guy back in college, a grad student, who would work in his office with the lights off, slouched so far down in his chair that you almost couldn't see him. I swear if he could have gotten them to assign him a recliner he'd have used that. People were always commenting that he almost appeared to be asleep in there until they looked more closely. Genius losers are notorious for poor posture. And poor fashion, too. Right now I'm wearing a $40 pair of Dockers and a polo shirt I probably got at WalMart and which has a tiny hole the washer made while fading it from electric blue to a dull Buick blue and turning the black stripes into gray. And I am considered pretty fashion-concious by genius loser standards. You should see some of the other guys.

Energy Zapper #5 - Toxic Indoor Air

Hey listen now, guys fart. That's just what we do. Don't give me a bunch of shit about it. If you don't like it, turn on the fan and get out.

Energy Zapper #6 - Eating too much at once

Too much what? The article doesn't say. Or I am too lazy to read further and see. I don't have any food in my office. At lunch I eat whatever I can get, which is usually nothing except a protein shake. Yeah, you'd think this would mean I was all lean and ripped and looking awesome, what with my working out so hard and then only taking a protein shake for lunch every day. But no, you'd be wrong if you thought that. I look like a pile of shit in Dockers and a faded polo shirt from Walmart.

Energy Zapper #7 - Living in Artificial Light

I have 2 big windows in my office which allow me to see the Fall rain and gloom all day long and soak up that despair with every cell in my body. True, the lights overheard are artificial, but there's a hint of sun sneaking through all that darkness out there and I'm sure it's somehow helping me grow a nice healthy root system in preparation for Winter's suicidal gloom.

Energy Zapper #8 - Listening to Negative Nellies

I live in the most feminist nation on Earth. We export the hate to other nations because we have such a huge surplus of it. It's in every news story, every commercial, every billboard along the highway, every rock song in which a grown man sings about babies and afterbirth, every police policy, every speech by President Obama - the first lesbian president in America, and sure as hell in every law and bill on Capitol Hill. So as far as negative nellies go, it all depends on your point-of-view. If the destruction of the entire male sex is something that makes you smile then this is the country for you. But if not, its hard to smile without closing your eyes and pretending you're living on the moon, far away from all the haters and cunts. Don't even get me started. God, I'm tired. SOOO tired of it.

Energy Zapper #9 - Holding a Grudge

The article seems to indicate that actively holding a grudge against an individual takes a lot of energy. I think that must be why my wife is so tired at the end of each day. Did you know that women remember every single tiny little thing that you ever did that offends them, irritates them, or mildly rubs them the wrong way? Yes, every single thing! She can remember things she says I did 10 years ago, which I don't even recall doing. And she's mad about it, by God! I'm too busy dealing with the latest new attacks from hate groups funded unknowingly by American taxpayers to actively focus on something done to me a long, long time ago. But when that does happen to me it's called a "flashback" and I try to shake it off and move on as quickly as I can. That's what iPods and loud heavy metal music is for. That's what alcohol is for. That's what casual sex is for. It helps you to take that pain and shove it way down deep inside, because nothing is ever going to be done about it. My representatives in government have made that abundantly clear to me. Their job is to do not one damn thing to benefit me. And my job is to blog about what a bunch of useless cunts they all are. Grudges? Who's got the time for grudges? There's so much shit going on right now, today, in my face, that I can barely remember my own fucking name, let alone what shit you did to me years ago. Shut the fuck up and get me another drink!

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What is the meaning of courage?

Is it to fight a bull in a bullfight?

Is it to drive a Formula 1 car?

Is it to fly a fighter in combat?

Is it to practice free falling parachuting?

Is it bungee jumping, wild water rafting?

Is it to gamble your salary on a coin toss?

Is it to insult the doorman in a bar?

Is it to insult your boss?

Is it to go on a defective ferris wheel?

Bullsh1t........those are nothing!

This is courage!

* emailed to me by Utegirl

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Wordless Wednesday

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Monday Morning Madness

Obama Awarded Nobel Peace Prize

Our illustrious friends, the Norwegians, have given the world a long line of hot, blonde babes. They have given us some terrific luge teams. They have shown us how to ski the hell out of a mountain. And they have smoked a lot of crack, gotten very, very high, and subsequently awarded the Nobel Peace Prize to a man who just surrendered Poland to the Russians. "He is like a little girl," Russian dictator-for-life, Vladimir Putin was quoted as saying. "He has soft skin and squeals like a pig when I put my manhood up his bottom very roughly. I think he enjoys it."

The decision to award the Nobel Peace Prize to an American President who arguably has done nothing good, and clearly has in a very short time done significant bad, is not surprising to those who have been paying attention to the recent trend of awarding formerly significant honors to undeserving people.

In 1973, the stoned Norwegians awarded the prize to Le Duc Tho, of North Vietnam, and his American counterpart, Henry Kissinger, in hopes that these two would end the war in Vietnam. Mr. Tho threw the statue out his window and sent a nasty letter in response. Unfortunately, the letter was written in Vietnamese, and so the Norwegians were unable to figure out what it said. Mr. Kissinger used the award as a paperweight on his desk at his home before his very young grandson took it and buried it somewhere in the backyard. It has never been found. Or searched for.

In 1994 the lovely, but misguided Norwegians gave the award to Yasir Arafat, of the PLO. He ordered that it be broken into pieces and taken to Gaza to be hurled at Jewish soldiers in the hopes that it might kill some of them.

In 2002 the Nobel Prize was given to former U.S. Embarrassment, Jimmy Carter, the worst president in living memory to most Americans. Predictably, Mr. Carter cried upon hearing the news. He confessed during an impromptu acceptance speech that he had sinned by having lust in his heart for Monica Lewinksy and envy for Bill Clinton for having received so much oral sex from her. He also ranted about having hatred for Ronald Reagan and wanting to be on the next "Survivor" program because he felt that he would be a great choice to lead a team to victory.

In 2005, the award was given to Mohamed El Baradei and the International Atomic Energy Agency for allowing Iraq to build nuclear facilities right under his nose, all the while accepting enormous bribes of oil from Saddam Hussein in exchange.

In 2007 the prize was given to religious fanatic and failed politician, Al Gore, the man whose private jets, SUVs and luxurious mansions are together responsible for 32 percent of the world's carbon emissions even as the man himself preaches sermons about "global warming" and "the sky is falling."

In short, the Nobel Peace Prize, once a respected award, has long since been reduced to nothing more than an international joke. It is more often than not an embarrassment to receive it, as it is an indication more of ineffectual ignorance and impotence than anything else. Thus, the awarding of the prize to current American dictator, Barack Obama, is arguably entirely appropriate, in my humble opinion.

Dalai Lama - "I call myself a cunt"

Last week in the land of Elvis and prostitution - Memphis, TN - the Dalai Lama, ever the shrewd politician, stood before a crowd of misandric feminists, politicians, and wealthy heiresses and said "I call myself a cunt. Isn't that what you call someone who promotes the emasculation of men and boys and insists that grown men wear dresses and sheets?" He then went on to say that women are inherently better than men, and more compassionate, too. He proceeded to show video clips of men and young boys being severely injured or tortured in their genitals while the almost entirely female audience howled with bitter laughter. "See? See how compassionate you are?" he said with a laugh. "I think that women should rule the world. I think that you are all very pretty and not the least bit fat. I like what you've done with your hair. I need more donations and am almost entirely dependent upon financial gifts from very wealthy heiresses with great sums of money they have never earned, and very tiny brains they have never used. Please give generously so that the world may see that your hearts are as beautiful as your faces."

Religious Leaders say "Obama is The Beast, Dalai Lama the False Prophet"

A Christian religious organization speaking in Washington, DC, accused President Barack Obama of being "the Beast, the physical manifestation of Satan himself" and the Dalai Lama of being "the False Prophet", two figures prophesied in the Christian Bible to come into existence at the end of the world and who bring about its destruction. Much has been made recently of the Christian Bible's book of "Revelations" with its predictions of rising evil and global destruction, and the Mayan calendar, which is said to predict the end of the world in 2012.

The Dalai Lama refused to respond to questions about the accusations, covering his face with his dress and running from the room as soon as the question was asked. But President Barack Obama responded immediately.

"That's utterly preposterous." Obama said. "It's ridiculous. I think the suggestion that I am this "beast" that Christian mythology predicts, simply because I order that all Christian symbols and especially crosses be covered wherever I go is simply the most ignorant and insane accusation I have ever heard. I don't believe in Western religious mythology. I think it's all very foolish. Clearly the only reason I require that Christian symbols and crosses be covered in my presence is because I'm a vampire. How hard can it be to figure this out? I mean, really, it's obvious. I thought everyone knew already."

It's obvious
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Cows, The Constitution and The Ten Commandments

1. Cows

2. The Constitution

3. The Ten Commandments


Is it just me, or does anyone else find it amazing that during the mad cow epidemic our government could track a single cow, born in Canada almost three years ago, right to the stall where she slept in the state of Washington ?

And, they tracked her calves to their stalls.

But they are unable to locate 11 million illegal aliens wandering around our country.

Maybe we should give each of them a cow.


They keep talking about drafting a Constitution for Iraq ...

Why don't we just give them ours? It was written by a lot of really smart guys, it has worked for over 200 years, and we're not using it anymore.


The real reason that we can't have the Ten Commandments posted in a courthouse or Congress is this --

you cannot post 'Thou Shalt Not Steal' "Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery' and 'Thou Shall Not Lie' in a building full of lawyers, judges and politicians ....

it creates a hostile work environment.
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Hey! Hey you! Pssst


Are you still here? I thought you'd left. Well anyway, I took my big, pink ribbon and I went over here.

It's my day to blog at Burt's Stache. Come on over and enjoying ripping me to shreds over at The Stache.

Come on. You know you want to.

This is what a feminist looks like

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Misandric Monday - National Femmeball League?


So I sat myself down for a weekend of football only to be assaulted by images of grown men, macho men who pound the shit out of each other for a living, running onto the field dressed all in pink.

What the fuck?

You see, it's Breast Cancer/Domestic Violence/We Hate Men Month here in the Castrated States of America, and every single corporate CEO and President is so anxious to prove to the women of America that they aren't sexists like all those other guys that they've ordered every male professional athlete in the U.S. to hand over his balls and strap on a big, pink vagina before marching out onto the battlefield and trying to do what he was hired to do.

Wait, so how is this the fault of those misandric feminist lesbians that we all know and despise so much? How are you going to blame women for this one?

I'm not.

This is the fault of sociopathic, megalomaniac, narcissistic assholes who did and continue to do whatever it takes to kick and bully and murder their way to the top of their respective professions, and now they have this nagging conscience buried deep inside of themselves that keeps saying, "you're an asshole. You're a huge fucking asshole and nobody likes you."

These are the lawyers and politicians and other rich, powerful men who pay $1000 an hour in taxpayers' money to prostitutes whom they ask to tie them up and then beat the living shit out of them while insulting them and basically treating them the way they know that they damned well deserve to be treated. Only even in this, like everything else in their world, they insist on being in control. So rather than going to the people they have actually wronged, mostly other men whose lives and careers they ruined with their backstabbing, manipulations and lies, and apologizing like a real man, they choose instead to hire a hot girl, usually in her 20s, and let her hand out their punishment in the manner which they themselves choose. It's no penance at all, actually, but much like the act of forcing real men to march out onto the football field dressed in castrating pink uniforms, it makes these cunt bastards feel better about themselves and their lives of betrayal and selfishness.

Who's been a baaaad boy?

And isn't that all that really matters? Isn't feeling better the most important thing in life?

So what is so wrong about the NFL forcing their players and coaches and cheerleaders and anyone else working for the National Femmeball League to wear pink for the month of October? What's so wrong about 'raising awareness' for breast cancer?

Well, it's like this, despite the fact that virtually every single player and coach down on that field is going to get prostate cancer before he dies, nothing has been done by the NFL to raise any awareness or money for that.

Guess when Prostate Cancer Awareness Month was? It was LAST month. That's right. It just happened. And what did the NFL do for Prostate Cancer Awareness Month? Jack-shit NOTHING. Some NFL hall-of-fame players tried to promote prostate cancer awareness, but there were no NFL teams wearing blue ribbons, no NFL cheerleaders dressed for the event, no blue Prostate Cancer banners in any NFL stadiums. There was a big fat nothing. If they had just done as much for prostate cancer, or testicular cancer, as they are doing now with all the pink uniforms and banners and gloves and armbands and goalposts, there would be no problem. But they didn't. They were too busy painting the country pink.

And despite the fact that testicular cancer has been steadily and dramatically increasing over the past 40 years, affecting several high-profile professional male athletes such as Lance Armstrong of cycling and John Kruk of professional baseball, not one single penny, not one single acknowledgement, not one single effort has been made by these same leagues, these same team owners, these same billionaire men to do one thing about it.

Testicular cancer, by the way, which is an agonizingly painful cancer, primarily targets males between the ages of 14 and 40.

Oh well, those are OLD men, and they're just gonna die soon anyway. Why bother worrying about that?

The men most affected by testicular cancer are the sons and grandsons of the very men who refuse to make any effort to raise funding for research that might save the lives of their own children and grandchildren. They are the players themselves. They are the biggest and most loyal fans of the NFL.

Brian Piccolo, the Chicago Bear about whom the book and later the weepy movie "Brian's Song" was written, died from testicular cancer. You might think this would have gotten some attention and funding from the NFL for testicular cancer research, but you'd be wrong.

Putting all of this aside, ignoring whether its fair or unfair or who is responsible for dressing America's last remaining 'real men' in pink tutus and strap-on vaginas, I'd like to just say that its also just incredibly gay. That's right. You heard me. It's fucking gay. No one wants to turn on the TV and watch 22 300-pound, muscle-bound monsters beat the living hell out of each other while dressed head-to-toe in pink dresses.

Wait, I take that back, men like Vice President Joe Biden most likely would LOVE to watch something like that. But he's a misandric, self-loathing cunt, so he doesn't count.

So, to the vaginas who currently run professional football in the United States, forcing other men to surrender their testicles and run out onto the playing field dressed in pink, I say, "Hand in your genitals, all of you. You have forfeited your right to be called men." Hand'em over or we'll come and get them. And you know you don't want that because if we have to do it for you then there'll be no doctors, no drugs, no sharp instruments and no professional skill involved. Since you're so fond of making the men who play the game dress up like little girls, it's only fair that we remove your genitals and put real vaginas on all of you. And then we're going to dress you up in little pink dresses and ribbons and march you out onto the playing field where 11 large linemen are going to hit you as hard as they can, all at once, and make you shit yourselves in front of the entire world.

Nobody wants to see a bunch of NFL players running around dressed like Barbie. It's just wrong. It's just SO wrong.

No balls on this playing field

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Play That Funky Music, White Boy

Here's your sign

Something is wrong with me.

I mean, that goes without saying, obviously. But I don't mean like the usual, creepy, pathetic, whiney-assed way that you all are accustomed to. I mean I am sick.

No, not mentally. Fuckers!

I have been sicker over the past 3 or 4 years than I have in my entire life. I have no idea why. But it's getting to be really, really annoying.

All last week I was just exhausted. Like, falling over kind of exhausted. Over the weekend I slept a grand total of 24 hours.

And it didn't do any good.

Monday I called into work sick. Tuesday, too. Wednesday I was here, but not exactly in tip-top condition.

Today I had the shit from hell.

Yes, of course I'm going to tell you about it. What kind of blog do you think this is? I'm a naked man on a toilet sitting beside the fucking highway, for cryin' out loud.

It was one of those shits that leaves your entire ass covered in disgustingness, so that you almost need to wrap your entire arm in toilet paper just to reach back there without contaminating yourself. And even that wasn't enough. I was shit-covered from cheek-to-cheek. And it wasn't even an exploding poo session, either. It was just a regular poo. Or so I thought. Then it came time to wipe and I'm like dripping poo, as if someone had sprayed my entire ass with a poo hose. WTF????

Aaaaaaah ... shit!

I'm bumping into things. I'm falling down. I'm dropping things. I can't fucking type. I feel like the Rainman trying to drive Charlie Babbit's Buick Roadmaster or something.

Yeah, so I'm old enough to remember that movie. What of it? Fuck you if you don't remember it because you were born in the 1990s. You're probably still wearing diapers. Although to be fair, I probably should be, too, at this rate.

I'm sitting here sweating like a pig. It's not hot. It's actually kind of cool today. And here I am sweating up my polo shirt like some fat old balding loser who eats hot wings for breakfast and drinks beer as a 'health food' while his fat old wife screams at him to put some pants on because company is coming over.

My fucking shoe keeps coming untied. What is up with that?

One day you and I will be married

Last night I wrote an email to someone I mention so often here on my blog that everyone thinks I actually know her, stalk her, or might even be married to her. Some of you concerned citizens even write to her to warn her, "I think this guy in Memphis might be KUH-RAY-ZEE. Do you own a gun or anything because I'm worried for your safety." Yeah, I'm a real catch, don't you think? All poopie and stumbling and sweaty and wearing a stinky polo shirt and no pants and can't keep my shoes tied and living in a shithole city where our biggest star died sitting on the toilet with his tongue sticking out of his mouth and his pants around his ankles? My profile picture is ironically appropriate for Memphis when you consider that, ain't it?

Yup. Sho'nuff.

Hey look, it's Memphis Steve!

I was just sitting here contemplating my Loserness when this song suddenly popped into my head this morning. I haven't been able to shake it all day. I think it's oddly appropriate, though. It goes like this:

When you were here before,
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel,
Your skin makes me cry

You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fuckin' special

But I'm a creep,
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here

I don't care if it hurts,
I wanna have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul

I want you to notice
when I'm not around
You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here, ohhhh, ohhhh

She's running out again
She's running out
She run run run run...
run... run...

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep,
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here

I don't belong here...

Yeah, so apparently being sick and perpetually exhausted isn't exactly doing wonders for my self-esteem either. I get that. I just don't know what exactly to do about it. I might go see a doctor, but my doctor is rather old and drives a car exactly like my mom's. Sue me, but I don't have much faith in anyone who drives those things. I know, I know, that's rather prejudiced of me and all that. But it's how I feel.

Just as Memphis Steve reached Sydney harbor, an iceberg appeared from nowhere ...

Something tells me I'm not ever going to make it to Australia. I keep saving money and disasters keep popping up to burn that money up. My own mother sideswiped my car in her driveway. From front to back. Yeah, so she probably shouldn't be driving anymore. I get that. And she sure as hell shouldn't be driving a big-assed fucking Ford Police Interceptor Crown Victoria. That's a given. But I'd like to see you try to pry that driver's license out of her hand and see how far you get. She's Scotch-Irish. You have fun with that. Anyway, my pickup broke down. And my 4x4 needs 4 new tires. They cost $150 each. And thanks to a certain someone coming to visit me late at night after everyone has gone to bed I have to put some additional security up at my house, which costs and costs. And the list goes on.

Mom, put the radar gun away and stop harassing people.

So anyway, let's see if I can make it to the end of this week without dying or getting swine flu or something. It isn't looking good so far. If I can just avoid shitting my pants I suppose I should consider that a major victory.

You know what? Tonight I'm supposed to go out drinking with a beautiful girl I know. Maybe I'll try hitting on various women just to see if I get any responses worth blogging about, like a kick in the crotch or pepper spray down the pants or something. 'Cause you know what a ladies man I am, right? They can't resist me. Without using weapons anyway.

You have read this article creep / loser / poop / sick / stalker with the title October 2009. You can bookmark this page URL Thanks!
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