My New Year's Resolutions

Goodbye 2010
It's the end of 2010 and I can't say that I feel any damn emotion about it. I mean, maybe if I sit quietly and contemplate my navel for awhile I might come up with something about 2010 that stands out as meaningful and fabulous. But I don't feel like it. To be completely honest, I'm currently staying up way too late, watching a movie I don't like, and commenting on Twitter at the same time that I'm writing this. Am I a great multi-tasker? No, not really. But this is how my life is right now, so deal with it.

Alright, here they are, because I know you've been sitting there with baited breath saying to yourself, "please, Steve, hurry up and tell me what your fabulous resolutions are."


1. I resolve to be less tolerant and more confrontational to jackwads who take a giant shit in the livingroom of my life. Fuck tolerance. Tolerance is how the commies gained control of the Russian government without a shot being fired. Tolerance is how good things slowly corrode into shitty, politically correct bullshit things that the world was better off without. Tolerance is the great enabler of psychological games, manipulations and abuse.


2. I resolve to install a big-assed train horn on my 4x4 and use it as needed. And if I enjoy it as much as I think I will, I resolve to install super loud horns on every vehicle I own (I own a lot.) Hey, if you assholes can drive around with super blinding Xenon headlights that literally burn the retinas of every other driver on the road then I can blow your fucking eardrums out with the audio equivalent and rattle your windows when you drive slow in the passing lane.


3. I resolve to spend less of my valuable time waiting for computers and other electronic shit to do what I fucking told them to do and find more ways to do things that I want to do while the damn computer is churning slowly along, spinning that damn hourglass on my screen like a big target that begs to be shot and put out of its misery. In fact, this is why I tweet now, because I have loads of time to pull out my cellphone and write something witty or charming or totally obnoxious and rude while waiting for Windows to do what I told it to do on my PC. Thank God for cellphones. They give me faster internet access than my PC does, and that is just sad.


4. I resolve to never again run out of vodka, Jack Daniels and Jager because the crap on television and in the newspapers makes me want to shoot myself, and drinking keeps me sane. Or at least as close as I get to sane.


5. I resolve to watch more quality porn. Everyone else seems to see a lot more porn than I do and I don't think it's fair. I don't even know who any of the current stars of the porn world are anymore, and by 'current' I mean anyone from the past 10 years even. My life needs more porn.


6. I resolve to care less and mock more. In fact, some say I do my best mocking when I truly don't care or have simply given up all hope of any possibility of making a difference in the world.


7. I resolve to bombard Monday Night Femmeball's Mike "women and men" Tirico with more hatemail than he has ever received before in his entire life and, if I should ever meet him in person, to kick him in the groin with such force that his entire body is lifted off the ground and he lands on his face. In fact, I think I'm going to print up some T-shirts and bumperstickers that say "Mike Tirico is a cunt - throw rocks at him" and sell them at football games. He's the most hated "man" in all of American athletics, and he deserves to be. His cuntliness could very well make me rich if I work it right.


8. I resolve to sleep more. Theoretically this should be easy. There is very little worthwhile on the television and other than blogs I don't find all that much on the internet to entertain myself with anymore either. You would think I could get myself to bed earlier simply due to the lack of anything keeping me awake. Unfortunately, I also have books and magazines, and they are always ready to keep my mind churning when the TV and internet don't have anything going on. My mind is fascinated, but my body is exhausted.


9. I resolve to kick small dogs who bother me while I'm jogging and then kick their owners if they should complain about it because their stupid little yappy bitches come all the way out into the street and try to bite me every time I run past. Larger more manly dogs never do this. Pit bulls, for example, barely even bother barking at me as I run by. No, it's always the stupid annoying yappy little bitches in sweaters and pink collars with sequins that leave the confines of their yard and actually try to bite me out there in the street. I played soccer for years. Surely its no coincidence that most small dogs weigh about the same as a regulation soccerball. It's like God wants us to punt the fuckers. And I wouldn't want to defy God. I wouldn't want to waste all those years of training and practice from soccer. That would just be wrong.


10. I resolve to rid myself of false friends and other parasites. I've spent enough years of my life trying to please people, to win them over and make them like me. Fuck'em. More often than not, the people I'm the nicest to make the worse friends and the people I keep at a safe distance are the best friends of all. We see each other whenever we can find the time, whenever it works out for the both of us, and spend the rest of our time doing our own thing. Actually, that's not entirely fair. There are a very few select friends who are as close as family. Then again, if you knew my family ... Anyway, the friends who truly are friends to me, I resolve to be a friend to in return. And the rest, the people I called friend who never call me 'friend' in return, can go. And good riddance.

So there you have it. 10 New Year's resolutions from the land of Nude Memphis. I'll probably keep a few of them and break the rest before the year is even half over, but that's OK. Resolutions are made to be broken. In fact, that's going to be my resolution number 11 - I resolve to break any and all of these resolutions as I see fit.

Now, why don't you tell me your New Year's resolutions?

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So This Is Christmas

It's Christmastime again, this time for the year 2010. We're expecting snow on Christmas Day, which would be cool, in more ways than one. I'm going to take some time off from work and try to rest, although God only knows what I'm actually going to end up doing. There's always a list of things to be done, whether at home or at work. I suspect when we all get up to Heaven someday, God will greet us with a list of things to do along with a requirement that we fill in estimates of when we think we'll have them done. The list will continually grow and we will spend our eternity doing this damn list. Yeah, and that's Heaven. Hell is no doubt even worse and probably involves project managers and perpetual 'scope creep', where your original task keeps growing with more and more requirements. Meanwhile, other things are added to the list and you're expected to somehow get them all done at the same time. Demons nag the shit out of you for being behind. And there's no internet in hell so you can't blog about it. And no days off. And no toilet paper in the bathrooms. And no coffee, except decaff, which you finally learn is just demons pissing in a dirty coffee pot, as you had always suspected.



I wish I was a real boy
Anyway, enough about that. What else is going on for Christmas this year? Oh yeah, President Obama is trying to push through a bunch of new appointees to our Justice Department and other top posts with great power. It's not being widely publicized (Wall Street Journal page A2, Dec 22), but I couldn't help noticing that every single one of them are Jewish women with heavy feminazi ties, and by feminazi I mean Ashkenazi, which is German for 'face like a rat.' And then I started researching a little (got lost in Googleland) and I discovered that the vast majority of Obama appointees are feminazi Jewish women. And living in Memphis as I do, I had to ask, where are all the high-ranking jobs for black men and women that he promised? Why are only a handful of his closest and highest-ranking appointees black men and black women? Why does he so often appear to be totally beholden to (owned and operated by) Jewish misandric feminist women specifically? These women didn't vote for him, not a single one. They voted for Hillary. And Hillary isn't dead (where's Dorothy with that bucket of water?) or even out of the running for the next presidential race. Yes, yes, I know that Obama is George Soros' houseboy and George Soros is a huge Ashkenazi feminazi communist momma's boy who gives millions to female supremacist hate groups around the world in the mistaken belief that one day, if he gives enough money, these man-hating Marxist mostly-lesbian womyn will magically love him and only him the way his momma never did. But even so, you would think, what with all the rap songs about "bros before hos" and shit, that Obama would take care of the brothas first, and pay back his master, Voldemort, second. But if you thought this, you would be wrong. Never underestimate the power of the Dark Side, and by 'Dark Side' I don't mean black people, because as I just said, he's not really paying back the black people very well, which was the whole point of that entire gigantic paragraph.



Barney Claus
Also happening just in time for Christmas, our Democrat-controlled Congress, with their dying breath, set free all the gay soldiers in the military (Democrats created Don't-Ask-Don't-Tell under Clinton and The very gay Press celebrated it), took over the internet so they could censor blogs like mine, sold our national security to the Russians with a Jimmy-Carter-like treaty straight out of the drug-fueled, disco 1970s, and swore to their goddess, Lilith, that they didn't mean to lie about Global Warming. And then those Death Eaters disapparated and returned to Voldemort's lair to plot their eventual return and revenge.



Pump till you puke
What else is going on? Oh yes, I have joined a new gym, where women in workout tights stand in front of a room wearing a Britney Spears-like headset and force entire groups of people to do torturous and agonizing things involving stretchy cables, dumbbells, plastic step-ups and foam mats. Meanwhile, just outside the torture room, visible through the glass windows, college girls in tiny tank-tops and shorts are sweating and exercising with weights for upcoming volleyball/basketball/softball/soccer matches against other colleges with teams of similarly sweaty girls. Alongside the sweaty college girls, old fat men are attempting to powerlift the same weight they did while they were younger while struggling not to stare too hard at the college girls. Elsewhere in the new gym, there is a tiny dark room filled with sweaty, panting people on bicycles that go nowhere. Another Britney-Spears-like person, this one a man, forces them to ride their bicycles to nowhere as fast as possible while he shouts at them and blares technopop music through giant speakers. Upstairs, people ride similar bicycles to nowhere, run treadmills to nowhere, and ellipticize on ellipticals to nowhere, all while watching big-screen TVs (checking each other out) and listening to iPods. Down below, a group of white men play basketball against one another (badly) and silently pray to God for the ability to slam dunk like Michael Jordan (never gonna happen.) And because I have joined in on all of this, I am now paying less money (I'm broke) while working out harder (vomiting) than I was before (no interruptions to listen to monologues about conspiracy theories), and as a result, I am today in severe pain unlike anything I ever experienced with the conspiracy master, LaRaza, who was my previous trainer.



Drugs? I ain't on no drugs. Whatchew tawkin' 'bout, boy?
Yesterday, as I was driving home from work, I got behind a white Toyota Celica going 40 in the passing lane on the highway. Traffic was just blowing past this turd until we came to a red light. When the light turned green, he just sat there for a minute until I had to tap my horn. Then he slooooowly accelerated up to a crawl. With all the traffic blowing past us, there was no way to get around him. When I flashed my brights, indicating to all who passed their driver's test that you are in the passing lane and clearly not passing anyone so move it or get over, he began tapping his brakes. Yeah, in a Celica. And I'm in a giant 4x4 with a steel grill-guard just right for pushing Japanese shit-piles into a ditch. He tapped his brakes and I didn't tap mine. My grill-guard went up over his rear bumper and hatch and was nearly tapping his rear window when it suddenly occurred to him that he'd better speed the fuck up or he might be visiting a bodyshop and/or hospital for Christmas. At this point, Bo Duke there stuck his fist out the window and began shaking it. Yes, seriously. And then, not satisfied with shaking his fist, he himself began to climb out of his window, turn around backwards, and scream at me. I have no idea who was steering his car at this point, but he was going so slowly anyway that it is entirely possible that no one was. The fist-shaking gentlemen had a long white beard and scraggly long hair, well matched to his sunken pale eyes, pale wrinkly skin, and bad teeth. He looked like someone who might have been kicked out of ZZ Top at some point. I had to laugh at this comical cunt going totally apeshit in front of me as a consequence of his own bad, and likely drunken, driving. But I did go ahead and sit on my horn while turning on my high beams to make absolutely certain he understood that I was not his sister and thus he should stop trying to fuck with me. I suppose he got the point. He slipped back into his seat and continued his agonizing crawl down the highway. I had reached my destination at this point and turned left to go home. At the rate he was traveling, I'll bet he's still driving right now, trying to get to wherever he was going. That is, unless someone has shot him by now.


Ahm gowna put a bullet in ye, boy!

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'Tis Monday

Don't aspire to anything or you might fail
My mother, ever the Queen of Denial, has decided that my father was Irish and that he was a bastard child. I informed her that my sister's genealogy research has found conclusively that he was both Cherokee and English, not Irish. There may be some Irish in there somewhere, but his mother was English and his father predominantly Cherokee. She insisted that because the Irish and English and Scots all live close together that probably his mother was actually Irish and surely lower-class and people just don't know the difference. In fact, research has found that his mother was upper class and 100 percent English. Also, she was married to his father, but my mother has taken to calling her 'Miz Jones' despite the fact that she referred to herself as 'Mrs Jones' all her life and would be insulted at the 'Miz' snubbing of her marriage. But my mother has taken to shitting on all marriages now, referring to her elderly married friends as 'Miz' even when it pisses them off.



Those Irish eyes are not smiling
I've just finished reading the book "'Tis" by Frank McCourt. If ever there were a better description of an Irish mother I haven't seen it before. He does a fabulous job of making clear the frustrations of dealing with someone so bound and determined to make themselves perpetually miserable and poor. My own mother, when I refer to her as Irish, shouts "We're SCOTTISH!" No Mom, you are Irish to the bone.



Eat it, biatch!
I think I'm going to mount a baseball pitching cannon onto my 4x4. I'll need to add a laser site to it and an electric motor for proper aiming, but once I have it properly set up I plan to use it on every single car running those fucking blinding Xenon headlights that are just as blinding at low beam as they are on high beam. I have actually flashed my brights at them only to have them click over to high and low beam, which looks EXACTLY THE SAME and I have concluded that, in light of the refusal of our busybody Federal Government that regulates anything and everything, yet refuses to regulate this shit, I am going to start taking care of the problem myself. I am going to shoot the fuckers with baseballs and bust them out. Legally, a cannon that isn't powered by gunpowder isn't a firearm and therefore not subject to any sort of BATF bullshit or anti-gun laws. This is how Taser International gets around the fact that their torture guns are, in fact, deadly weapons and yet anyone, felon or otherwise, can buy and carry one anywhere and everywhere. A baseball firing cannon is similarly considering 'non-lethal' and is not actually even classified as a weapon. So bring it on, blinding bitches! I'm gonna knock your lights out!



Workout class
I'm trying out a new gym. I've never done a workout class before, other than martial arts classes, so this should be interesting. If it works for me then I will switch to this and part ways with my trainer, saving me money and a great deal of frustration at the way he actually slows my workouts down while he talks to me about conspiracy theories involving the British Royal Family, bankers, and George Bush. It isn't so much that I'm unable to cope with conspiracy theories. I hear them all the time on CNN and HLN reported as news. Its the fact that my time with this guy is one continuous monologue featuring him talking and me listening. Whenever I try to speak, he talks over me or dismisses everything I've said. I don't need that shit. My father used to do that and it annoyed me to no end. In fact, it annoyed everyone because it's just plain rude. I have enough aggravation in my life without paying someone to give me more.



Just right
I have purchased a new CD for myself. I discovered this entirely by accident, but I think I'm in just the right mood for it. It's Duffy, a blond-haired English girl who sings like a '60s throwback black girl. You may laugh, but I think I like it.

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Ice Cold Monday

So listen, if you're having a really bad day and you're in a nasty mood and then you see me online somewhere, don't think that just because I'm a nice guy that you can take out all your frustrations on me and make yourself feel better. If you shit on me I'll drop you, or block you, or unfollow you, or hang up on you, or whatever it is that is involved in dumping your ass from my world and making sure you can't reenter it at a later date. I don't need your shit. I have my own, lots and lots of my own.



Sometimes I think my mother wakes up in the morning and just lets every single thought that passes through her brain fall out of her mouth. She probably doesn't fully wake up for several hours after this, and thus has no recollection that she was ever speaking. That would be just as well because the things she says in the morning are totally random and utterly pointless. Plus, even if you respond to her babblings she doesn't fully process what you've said, so that the 'conversation', if you could call it that, is a mass of confusion and "what?" and "are you on drugs?" I'm the sort of person who says absolutely nothing in the morning. I don't speak until my brain is properly warmed up and ready to function. It's just how I am. Maybe this is a man vs woman thing or maybe it's just my mother, I don't know, but it's annoying as hell. She should get a blog for these mindless babblings like everybody else. Or join Twitter.



The other day a friend said something that bothered me. The subject of a close relative of mine came up and my friend said, "she uses people. And she doesn't see anything wrong with that." I love my relative and I have defended her before against this same criticism from someone else whom I grew loudly angry with for saying essentially the same thing. The thing that bothers me is that it now comes from two people who have no connection to one another and couldn't have gotten together to discuss it. I don't usually place much weight on one person's criticisms about someone I like, but when it's multiple people, especially when they don't know each other, then I start to wonder.



Is it wrong to unfollow everyone who recently unfollowed you on the internet? I mean, if you go to a site where you select who you are going to interact with, and a handful of them either drop you from their list of people they follow, or else simply ignore you and refuse to follow you in return, do you see anything wrong with dumping these people and writing them off? If so, that's too bad, because that's exactly what I've been doing this morning. There are a certain group of people who have just always done me this way and I'm tired of it.


It currently feels like 5 degrees outside, according to the Weather Channel. That's -15 in Celsius for all you non-American types. The extreme cold is occurring nationwide and has resulted in police officers complaining that the resulting genital shrinkage among American males has made it difficult for them to shoot us in the testicles with their weapons, which they do routinely as a matter of standard policy in most cities these days. Apparently they prefer being universally hated to being respected. Meanwhile, the head of the TSA says Americans are overreacting to being sexually assaulted and molested in our nation's airports by government agents. He insists that what they are doing to us is striking a delicate balance between safety and violating our rights. I'm pretty sure they castrated our rights a long time ago and this is just one more reminder that we haven't fought back hard enough to reacquire them yet. The fact that women are now being treated as badly as men means there is a much greater likelihood that something will actually be done about it this time.




Johnathan
Speaking of men and women, a transvestite man near Memphis named Johnathan Quick, whom the media referred to as "transgendered woman Akasha Adonis", was in the news complaining that he got caught up in the middle of a near-riot in a department store and the police didn't treat him the way he felt he should be treated. When they thought he was a woman, they treated him with respect and concern, even though he helped start the fight. But once they found out that he was a man they just treated him the way they treat every other man - i.e. with apathy and/or hostility. Johnathan found this shocking and claimed it was discrimination against him for being a transvestite, as opposed to discrimination against him for being a man, which he denies he is despite the penis he still possesses between his legs and his drivers license which lists him as male and gives a different name than the one he gave to the police, which is a crime. Johnathan even had a political rabble-rouser brought in to talk to reporters about the alleged discrimination. The professional rabble-rouser complained that people in the store, after they realized that Akasha was simply Johnathan, a man dressed as a woman and not a real woman, began referring to him as "he/she/it/whatever" and this is proof, he claimed, of some sort of problem on their part. He also complained that the female police officer whose job it is to deal extra-delicately with females and only females suddenly stopped caring about Johnathan once she realized that she had just wasted half an hour being nice to a man instead of a woman, which goes against all her training.




Not really Superman
It's somewhat disconcerting to me how our society today refuses to acknowledge reality and actually attacks those who speak and think in terms of facts and truth. Men who put on dresses and make up stripper names for themselves, such as Akasha Adonis, are referred to in our news media as "she" even though they are factually a "he" and in no way, shape or form a female. Surgery is available for such men should they truly want to be a "she" and they are free to have it. But until they do, they are still biologically male. If a man puts on a red cape and blue tights and runs around town trying to fly, we do not insist that everyone pretend he is really Superman and act as if he isn't crazy or comical. We do not require such reality-oriented people to attend "sensitivity training" to punish them for not joining in our childish games of lets pretend. Yet let that same man take off his cape and tights and put on a sequined dress and Dolly Parton wig and act like a cartoon exaggeration of what he thinks a woman is supposed to be and our PC Police go violently apeshit with hatred and intolerance directed at anyone who doesn't play along. That is not only ridiculous, it's downright alarming.



For as long as I can remember, the term "diva" referred to an overly egotistical, high-maintenance bitch, usually working in the entertainment industry. Yet in an era where more and more women are wearing t-shirts emblazoned with the slogan "you say 'bitch' like it's a bad thing" I suppose it should come as no surprise that parents are proudly referring to their little girls as "divas" as if this is not praising the wrong behavior.



Researchers in America have been trying to point out for quite some time that a dangerous and destructive personality disorder called narcissism is on the rise throughout the West and has been since, well, the Baby Boomers came into this world. It's no coincidence that the Baby Boomers were referred to by their parents' generation as "the Me Generation." This Me Generation removed all the rules the previous generations had put into place and reversed them. Wrong is right and right is wrong. Children are not to be punished, but endlessly praised. And so began an epidemic of selfishness that researchers say is growing worse and worse with each new generation, and which is already having dire consequences for us all. Narcissists lack empathy and view the suffering of others as either inconsequential or often even humorous. Serious physical injuries are funny when happening to others. Sexual violence and abuse is viewed as entertaining rather than abhorrent. Torture is fun rather than immoral and wrong. Murder is only wrong if the victim was a member of a protected class which the narcissist identifies with and the murderer is not. Leaders who steal from the public aren't criminals, but heroes who tricked everyone else and thus proved themselves to be intellectually superior. Apparently when "love thy neighbor" is replaced with "it's all about me" everyone suffers. One expert explained that "narcissism leads to depression, isolation, rage and envy." A more accurate description of the modern Marxist you couldn't ask for. True to form, the modern Marxists renamed their self-centered dogma to the very self-congratulatory "progressivism." The only thing progressive about it is the steady progression of hatred and envy directed at everyone else coupled with a growing need for constant attention and praise.



About 2 years ago, back when I was still watching Monday Night Football, which was moved to ESPN, I noticed that they had begun shoving feminist misandry down the male viewers' throats more and more during every broadcast. Monday Night Football was slowly being turned into Monday Night Femmeball, and I said as much on my blog. Tonight, I forgot that I had been boycotting Monday Night Football and turned on the game. ESPN, owned by the very gay Disney Corporation, long ago fired all the male sideline reporters for football and replaced them with female reporters. The first women were terrible, and it seemed like a joke that would end eventually. They were truly awful. But all the other networks did likewise, pressured by an unnamed feminist wave of political correctness. So ESPN, always determined to be more anti-male than all the other networks in every possible way, fired their head anchor for sports programming and replaced him with a woman. It did not matter which woman, only that she be a woman. The ESPFemme women joined in the chorus demanding that NFL football players wear pink for the entire month of October, surrendering their manhood and dignity and admit that they are subservient to their feminazi overlords. And then, just to remind every man still watching football who controls their game now, they ordered their head reporter for Monday Night Femmeball to sign off every single Monday night game by spitting into the faces of the male viewers by saying "on behalf of all the women and men of ESPN, I want to thank you for watching." Its a bit like saying, "on behalf of all the women at ESPN I want to say fuck you to all the males who still watch football, the game which single-handedly pays our salaries and makes ESPN possible in the first place." So please allow me to respond in kind by saying here on my blog, fuck you to every single person at ESPN and the Disney Corporation and may you all burn with yeast infections for Christmas and experience spontaneous abortions on New Years Day after you got drunk on Christmas, passed out in your offices and got fucked by the janitors who found you passed out on your backs like turtles.


ESPN turtle

Now, enough about people and things that I don't like. Here is someone I do like:


Alison Helene Becker

I don't have a specific reason for liking her. I just saw her on The Craig Ferguson Show and thought she was cool. She's an actress, she plays the ukelele and she laughs a lot. And that's really all there is to it.

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Thoughts Rolling Out of My Head

Sometimes the nicest people marry the total crazies and because they're nice, they'll stay with those crazies forever, which is just sad.


I wrote something over here in case you wanted to know. OK, 'write' is a strong word, but I posted a funny thing Ute send to me in an email months ago. Seriously, go leave a comment so people will think "who is this Memphis guy? He sure has a lot of friends!" I know it's a lie, but let's fool some people. C'mon, it's Christmas!


Not everyone who is hot realizes how hot they are. Take me, for instance ...


Ever notice how no one in the West ever protests when they stone men in the Middle East for adultery? More men have been stoned than women. Bet you didn't know 'cause Oprah TV didn't tell you. We need something like a male Oprah on Spike TV to yell about shit like this and demand that men march in the streets and burn stuff. I mean, we wouldn't do it because men just don't seem to get that excited about stuff, but it would still be cool to have a guy yelling on TV about it.


Antibiotics make you poop a lot, apparently.


According to the Wall Street Journal the only married women in the world are Pelosi and Clinton. All other women are called "Ms" regardless.


The truth will set you free. Or just piss you off. Sometimes you just don't want to know.


I'm freezing my ass off. Why does winter have to be so damn cold?


Does not belong in WalMart
Just saw a beautiful woman in Walmart. I told her "you shouldn't be here. All the attractive people shop at Target. Run! Run while you can!"


I'm the worlds laziest Jessica Biel stalker. She has to text me w where she is and what she's doing cause I won't follow her around.


I tried to love Jessica Biel but she got a restraining order to stop my loving her.


If everyone demanded peace, as John Lennon proposed, then we would fight over the definition of peace and who benefited more from it.


Didn't Pinnochio make you angry? Why couldn't he accept himself for who he truly was??


Jazz fusion is for people who are bored with music that sounds good.


In Cinderella II all the bitterness and rage poisons her marriage and the Prince becomes an alcoholic who avoids going home.


I can't believe Memphis lost the "most violent city" title to St Louis! Damn!


If Facebook suddenly ceased to exist would MySpace suddenly stop sucking?


In most US cities kids are taught to kick boys in the genitals. In Memphis kids are taught to turn their gun sideways and shoot them there.


Memphis kids get handguns and ammo for Christmas. Fuck Barbie.


There are so many things our Senate needs to be doing, yet they piss around w steroids and army sex instead.


Sitting in a doctor's waiting room is like playing Russian roulette with germs.

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Memphipedia: Hobophobe

Hobophobe - a person suffering from hobophobia. A hobophobe has an irrational fear of hobos, such that when confronted by a hobo or fagabond, this person will experience rapid heartrate, sweating palms, and a feeling of panic causing them to need to flee the situation. Hobophobes are most often found living in wealthy, gated communities where confrontation with hobos is rare. Treatment for hobophobia is usually of the 'face your fears' theory and involves sending the sufferer to WalMart where almost everyone very closely resembles, or in many cases is, a hobo.


Fuck all you haters!

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Memphipedia: Fagabond

Fagabond - a person of the homosexual persuasion who wanders from place to place with no particular home. They might be found sleeping in a public park, earning money by performing felatio on various Congressmen or random men, or redecorating homes for wealthy people in exchange for cash and a place to spend the night. A fagabond is characterized by no fixed income and almost continuous traveling, usually to locations that a heterosexual person would have little interest in visiting such as Connecticut, Dollywood or the CNN studio tour in Atlanta.


Connecticut is lovely this time of year

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A Jewish Man Walks Into a Bar and Asks for a Hanukkah Ham

Seriously?
So I have been working (wasting) the night away sitting at my computer which I had no intention of turning on tonight. I successfully stayed away from it last night and I was glad for it (withdrawal.) But tonight someone called me and asked me if I had read their email about the Trans Siberian Orchestra coming to Memphis. I had not. So I reluctantly (excitedly) turned on the computer to check it. 3 hours later I am long done with the conversation and the email, but I am still on the damn computer (slow piece of shit.) This is how drug addiction starts, people. Trust me on this. Just say "no."

I'm watching "Mythbusters" on the TV while I vegetate on the computer. I've decided I'd like to see Kari Byron naked. Too bad she never posed for Playboy 'cause I know she posed in Maxim or FHM or something like that, but I never saw it.


Kari Byron

The weather outside if fuh-ree-sing and I am still trying to thaw out after being out there with a nearly flat tire on my 4x4 and trying to air it up at the gas station. Apparently I don't see well in the dark and there was no light at the air compressor, so I kept putting more and more air into the tire, then looking at it and not noticing any difference. Finally I checked it with the pressure gauge and it nearly shot the meter out of the gauge because I had overfilled it so much. Yay me! At least it isn't flat anymore, eh? I never do anything halfway (yes I do.)

A friend invited me to go out to a club and shoot pool earlier tonight. Originally he used to invite me to clubs so he wouldn't be by himself while he tried to meet hot (drunk) girls. Also, I think he might have heard that I was a good wingman because I'm married and don't care about picking up the girls myself (too heavy), so I won't try to steal them from him with my awesomeness (lameness.) Anyway, eventually we got into the habit of shooting pool and I think he eventually forgot about trying to meet girls (shot down.) He bought his own pool cue at a pawn shop and carries it around with him everywhere he goes. I'm not quite that serious. First of all, I stink at pool. I was OK at it back in college, but that's been awhile and I haven't practiced. Second of all, the tables we played on in college were shit and the cues were, too, so why would I go out and buy an expensive one now? The tables are still shit and the cue doesn't help enough to make up for it. I played lousy tonight which just reinforces my view that I don't want to buy my own stick and haul it around to bars. Hell, I lost my own wristwatch last week and I still don't know where the hell it is. Imagine how many pool cues I could leave all over the city if I were carrying them into places that serve me alcohol.

So, there's stuff in the news and I'm mostly ignoring it. Some woman with a man's name was apparently murdered and the guy they think did it killed himself before the LA police could Taser him in the testicles, which they often do. They don't just limit the testicle-Tasering to suspected murderers, mind you. They do it in routine traffic stops, or pretty much just any time. So it's understandable that this guy would off himself rather than surrender to them. They're like the Taliban, only crueler and with more high-tech weapons.

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A Werewolf Emerges from a Full Moon

Fuuuuuuuck you!
When I am minding my own business out on Twitter, and you and you alone take offense at something I said, such that you feel entitled to spend your entire night doing nothing else but attacking me, and I take the time to explain to you where you misunderstood, but you still refuse to admit you were wrong or apologize, you are an asshole and you can go fuck yourself.


I appreciate that you used your blinker to try to change lanes in front of me, but if you hit your brakes while merging so that I really can't help but hit you or lock up my own brakes, don't act all shocked and surprised when I sit on my horn and cuss you up and down, you fuckwad idiot shithead. Learn how to merge or up your life insurance because someone is going to get money out of your future demise in a firey crash.


The whole world despises you and it's not hard to see why. You treat everyone around you, especially those stupid enough to care about you, like total shit. You are the most spoiled, self-centered, superficial, egotistical, abusive, immoral, idiotic, narcissistic fuck to ever walk this earth. But you don't care just as long as you look good doing it.


So you weren't wearing a badge, weren't wearing a uniform, sexually assaulted a boy who was just standing there minding his own business, sending him to the hospital, and yet you don't feel you should be charged and thrown into prison? Fuck you, asshole Seattle cop. Fuck you and every asshole like you. That guy is a human being, which is apparently news to you and your entire department, while you are just a pile of shit. Even if you had the right kid, which you didn't, there would still be no excuse for what you did to him. You should be in prison right now instead of sitting at home masturbating while playing Xbox and still drawing a salary.


So you were married to a raging hot Latin actress with a successful TV show, with her loving you enough that when she married you she even took your last name, which is increasingly rare in our fucked up Hollywood country, and yet you went and slept with a woman who looks almost just like her? What for? She's practically your wife's twin! I mean, she looks exactly like her! WTF dude? Are you brain damaged or what?


You know how I used to always put up with all kinds of shit from pretty much everyone who hung out with me? Yeah, well maybe you've noticed, but I'm not doing that anymore. I've got no patience for false friends and fuckheads. And that includes you. If you don't respect me, but you still expect to hang with me and drink my alcohol then I can promise you I'll get right up in your face and give you hell until you fear me, and you can learn to respect that, at least.



Apparently you, your boss, and your boss' boss didn't get the memo. You seem to think that the screaming rage of an entire nation directed straight at you is merely a request for you to consider whether or not you feel like continuing to rape and molest us in our city airports and elsewhere. Let me attempt to clarify for you, you'd better listen up and listen good or your name will become synonymous with a powerful but arrogant man being dragged into the streets, stripped naked and repeatedly kicked in the head by an angry mob. People in future generations will refer to this sort of beat-down as a "Pistole whipping."


Listen, when you first appeared on the scene again, all broken hearted and alone, I was nice to you. When you wanted something to do I helped you out. When you wanted someone close to me to open up to you, I talked to them and convinced them that you were alright. But now that you have developed this habit of texting me to ask where everyone is at, and when I say I'm right here and do you want me to come hang out, but you say "no, where is everyone else" because you know I have this network of friends, and I find out for you and offer again to go hang with you, but you once again say "no, I'm just gonna go over to that other place" then I have to ask, why the fuck are you texting me? If you would apparently rather do almost anything except hang out with me then why don't you just lose my number and fuck off?


Don't ask me to drive 20 fucking miles to deliver some crap for you that you could get off your ass and go get for yourself (it would have fit in your car), and then give me attitude and bullshit when I arrive. "How come it's in 2 pieces? Did you break it?" "No, it comes apart and it's a good thing it does because it wouldn't have fit inside my truck if it didn't." "Well, there's nails here like it was nailed together. I think you broke it." Hey, listen up, Bubba Gump, the words you are looking for are "thank you for wasting half your afternoon and $20 worth of gas to haul my shit around for me and then helping me carry it up the fucking stairs while I bitch like a little girl." I understand that you were mad that it was bought at all. I understand that it sure doesn't appear to be worth the money that your artistic spouse paid for it. I understand that you and she have a difference of opinion to work out there. But that has nothing to do with me so save the attitude and bullshit for after I leave. It isn't funny and it isn't cool, and in case you hadn't noticed already, I'm done putting up with shit like that.


Am I paying you to be a workout partner or a trainer? Cuz I was under the impression that you were supposed to be training me, not slowing me down. And by the way, if you will recall, I came to you for cutting and shredding, not mass and powerlifting. I have plenty of muscle and I know damn good and well how to build more. Guess what you have never helped me do? I'll bet you can't guess 'cause you never listen to what I say to you. Are you high?


I fucking hate you, iTunes! Fuck you and the apple-colored horse you rode in on! My Blackberry is easier to use than your shitty software.


I nearly rammed your cellphone right up your ass there when you swerved into me at 70 mph and I didn't even mean to. That was all you, biatch. But I do want to thank you for reminding me that I had been meaning to purchase and install a genuine air-horn system for my 4x4 for just such an occasion. I had almost forgotten.


Coming soon



and now, are you horny baby ...




And then there's this guy ...

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Today's News

I'll be bald soon
I just read where Prince William married himself a righteous hottie. Good for him. Did you notice that Prince William appears to be losing his hair already? This must be why he suddenly decided to go ahead and marry the girl, because he knew that if he waits much longer he'll be bald and alone. Yep, hot women like her would surely blow him off once he's slick as a cueball up top. But then maybe he will just shave the whole thing and get a tattoo, like Bruce Willis, and then the hot chicks will like him again because he's the first bad-ass prince in English history? I should probably write to him and suggest this. Maybe he'll reward me by giving me Australia or something? That would be cool.



Stole another one!
It appears Lisa Murkowski, the RINO candidate, has successfully used her ties to Big Labor/The Mafia to stuff and rig ballot boxes and vote counts to pull out the second big Alaskan election theft in the past 2 years. Something stinks in Alaska when such big, highly visible races can be so blatantly stolen and no one says anything. Then again, when they did the same thing with Al Franken in Minnesota and got away with it I guess they figured no one cares. If organized crime can put a professional clown in the US Senate and get away with it, surely no one is going to complain about a professional dirtbag.




Fuck you, America!
Speaking of dirtbags, stolen elections, organized crime and vote rigging, Harry Reid has surprised no one by hanging onto his powerful seat in the Democratic Party. Oh sure, the polls showed him losing badly, but that was polls of actual living, legally registered voters, and that's not who usually votes for Harry. Harry hasn't held an actual job since the 1960s, and yet SOMEHOW he has managed to become the richest person in the U.S. Senate by merely working for a Senator's salary for the past 40 years. He must be some kind of financial genius. Either that or he's wildly crooked. Which one do you think it is?



Take your clothes off RIGHT NOW!
Our Big Brother/Fat Mother Federal Government, ever vigilant for ways to harass and crush the rights of the law-abiding American citizens, is receiving its largest push-back yet over the use of x-ray machines that take naked pictures of every single person boarding a plane while exposing them all to radiation as a kind of bonus. Even the pilots are fighting back and standing up for their rights. It's about damn time. Sometimes it can be hard to tell which one the terrorists are, the idiots with bombs in their underpants or the government assholes demanding that you surrender all your basic human rights and strip down in public so they can humiliate you and make you accustomed to the idea that Big Government can do ANYTHING IT DAMN WELL PLEASES. Americans these days are the sort that loves to watch other people being demeaned and humiliated, especially if it's shown on TV so that we can eat potato chips and drink while making ourselves as comfortable as possible, but when it's happening to all of us, suddenly it isn't quite as funny anymore. See how that works? Just wait until they start Tasering people who refuse to be violated and try to protest for their rights. Suddenly people will be saying, "hey, they electrocuted my genitals! Isn't that torture? I thought that was illegal." Yeah, to quote a lousy old '80s movie, "the sleeper must awaken."



No more jihad, Abdul!
Apparently the Greeks, after watching their economy fall into shit a few years after Muslim terrorists struck a blow against the world economy by destroying the World Trade Center in Jew York City, aren't feeling in a very tolerant mood, especially where Muslims are concerned. A crowd of Greeks recently threw eggs at some Muslims in Athens. The Press, ever on the side of the terrorists, are up in arms about it. Oddly, though, they're never up in arms when Muslims do this and worse to Christians.



Fish oil - it doesn't cure cancer either

There seems to be more studies on things no one ever thought fish oil did than there are on most anything else, except breast cancer, of course. After studies showing that fish oil doesn't prevent breast cancer, doesn't prevent blindness, doesn't prevent athlete's foot, doesn't prevent menstrual cramps, doesn't make your baby ugly, doesn't cure jock itch, doesn't prevent baldness, doesn't prevent vaginal dryness, doesn't cure bad breath and doesn't make your penis larger, now they've discovered that it also doesn't prevent irregular heartbeats if you were prone to having them anyway. Wow, thank God they did this study or we might never have known! I wonder what else fish oil doesn't do? We need more studies.



Boobies - always a popular treat
In the Ukraine, where nipply weather is a standard feature, there is a small political party called Femen which is made up entirely of topless women. The idea sounds appealing at first, women using their bodies to gain power, but then it was discovered that Femen is a political party made up entirely of feminists. And this is where the story lost its appeal and the titties began to sag.



Vote for me - I'm wearing a bikini
Meanwhile, over in Poland, a female political candidate is seeking to draw votes by displaying roadside signs featuring large photographs of herself wearing nothing but a small bikini. The Polish don't seem to mind and her campaign is doing well.



No more Edward
Amazon dot com flirted with controversy recently when it featured a book for pedophiles. They finally caved in to critics, though, and pulled the entire "Twilight" series from their shelves.


And that's pretty much it for interesting things in the news today. I suppose tomorrow I should finish blogging about my trip. Or maybe not. I don't know. What interesting things are going on in your world today?


What's up?



What Disney has taught our children

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Little Girl, Cry No More

Today, at 11 a.m., Little Girl went to sleep for the last time. She was 18 years old. She hadn't been able to eat or drink in over a week. She was starving to death right in front of us. She had lost an enormous amount of weight and was as skinny as a skeleton. But she still purred and enjoyed a good lap and liked to romp in the sunshine out in the backyard.

There was cancer in her mouth, on her tongue. It made her drool constantly and it smelled awful. She was dehydrated, but the drool never ended. It would soak her bed, so that she had to get up and go sleep elsewhere. And then she would soak that, too, and have to move again. And always she was hungry, but could not eat. And always she was thirsty, but could not drink.

This is how Here Kitty Kitty died, too. In the end, I was having to squirt water into his mouth for him. It would take 15 minutes of this just to get him a drink. But there was no way for me to feed him. And so, finally, we had to put him to sleep just to end his suffering.

When he died, Little Girl wouldn't stop crying. She was far more upset than we had expected. In fact, we hadn't expected much reaction from her at all, but she was clearly upset that her companion was gone.

And now she has gone to join him. And she won't have to cry anymore.

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You're Shitting Me

Unique_Stephen sent me a link to a video which he said he found over on White Rabbit's blog. It's too funny, and too true! So I posted it here.



And while I was over there, I stole something else, as well. This, too, is too funny and too true:

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Where I'm At - Day 3 and 4

On day 3 we went to Cumberland Caverns, a deep and enormous cave. Seeing as all my photos are from my cellphone and my cell phone has no flash, you can probably guess how many fabulous photos I have from that day, right? Yes, so I'm just going to combine days 3 and 4 into one photo-filled post from the mountains of Tennessee.


Cumberland Caverns
Cumberland Caverns are around 30 miles of underground caves, and every year they discover more of them as they explore deeper into areas that no one has gone before. They are enormous. We walked and walked all day inside these caves.


OK, we're there. The reference to Bluegrass Underground refers to concerts they have inside the caves every year. The concert hall is enormous and completely underground, but there was no way for me to photograph it, so you'll have to take my word for it.



I have to admit, this was pretty cool, a parking lot just for motorcycles.



It's an official landmark, as opposed to all those fake landmarks.



Nice of them to show us where we are.



No pansy-assed 4-door girlie Jeep here, no sir! They drive this thing inside the caverns.



Walking to the cave entrance, the mouth loomed larger and larger. When we got there, we saw that they had sealed it up and installed locked steel double-doors to keep people from sneaking in after hours. Weird.



Inside the cave, the walls looked like something out of a nightmare.



Did I mention it looked like a nightmare inside the cave? They should set this up as a haunted house for Halloween.



I don't even know what this is, but it's a lot like most of my photos, which is why there aren't more here.



Remember the monster in the cave in Monte Python and the Holy Grail, the one that ate Robin's minstrels?


OK, so that was fun. And dark. And wet. It was raining that day and even if it hadn't been, it was super damp down inside the giant cave. Anyway, if you're into caves, watch the following video. I didn't make it, but it's about Cumberland Caverns and shows more of the inside.






Fall Creek Falls
On day 4 we went to Fall Creek Falls.


Big red farm



Log truck



Lovely directions. Very helpful.



Look what the drought has done to the waterfall! It looks like a vapor.



Um, where did our trail go? All I see is boulders ahead. We had to hike a mile and a half to the bottom of the waterfall, and sometimes there were obtacles like this.



A rockfall had buried our trail and we had to climb over the boulders, all the while wondering how often enormous chunks of rock fell out of the side of the mountain and onto the hikers below.



The drought-stricken waterfall almost looks like a beam of light. Or a government-approved, flow-restricting American showerhead.



I climbed on the rocks and behind the falls, of course. Shh, don't tell anyone.



This is the view from above the falls where signs said is was prohibited to go.



We had to walk a long way to the next waterfall, and cross this lovely bridge.



Cane Creek Cascades, not cascading much because of the drought



Back across the bridge again, which was swinging and bouncing after 6 hikers crossed ahead of us.



This is actually the water that leads to the first waterfall, all brown and rusty-looking. The redish-brown color is the result of a moss or fungus that grows on the rocks beneath the water.



Once again, a lovely view, this time standing on a jagged rock hanging out over the cliff.



I was standing on an overhang several hundred feet up overlooking the main waterfall


Further down the gorge, another view from the edge of a cliff.



Bambi came out to greet me and then told me to fuck off.



Just a nice view across the water.



Tennessee sunset



It was late and time to go back to the hotel.

Anyway, after 2 or 3 months of drought, the falls were not flowing nearly as well as they normally do. Here is a video some girl made last Spring, while the falls were gushing:

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