Memphis Swift and His Silver Patron Pistol

"Was that shot aimed at me?" Rosa asked with a wounded look. "Did you mean that for me? You're turning on me now, too?!" Her already fallen spirits could be seen sinking ever lower at the thought that her true-blue friend was turning against her like so many others had just done.

"No, honey," he reassured her. "That shot was meant for the two-faced cunt who came in behind you. You know, the one with a knife in her hand which she was about to put into your back." And so saying he set the safety on his .40 caliber handgun and slid it back into the drawer of the end table beside his bed. As he did so she turned and looked behind her. There sprawled out on the floor lay the body of a former friend, a false friend truth be told. And just as he had said, she held a large knife in her hand. She had landed on her back, knife still overhead in a stabbing position, mouth and eyes open wide as if her last thought may very well have been "I'll get you, you filthy bi - oh, hole in my head!"

Rosa wasn't surprised by the betrayal. That girl has never been much of a friend to her. Or anyone. She was one of a million hangers-on who happily kissed Rosa's ass while she was on top, and at the first sign of a crack in her armor she had been the first one to try to stab Rosa in the back. Apparently the resentment and jealousy had been simmering inside of her for a very long time.

Rosa turned back to her sickly savior, still laying in his bed with a bad case of something that might be the flu or it could be pneumonia, but no one was really sure. He was looking at her with the same admiring eyes he always had, cracked armor or no, except that today those eyes were watery and red and he smelled of Vix vapor rub and unwashed sweaty sheets. A less appealing savior she couldn't have asked for.

"Now this shot," he said to her, "this shot is for you." And he reached down and pulled out a bottle of Patron Silver and two shot glasses from underneath his end table and poured two drinks, then handed one to her.

"I already told you, girlie," he said with a half-smile, "I'll be your friend to the end."

Then he swallowed his shot and immediately resumed choking and coughing, just like before, tears streaming down his cheeks while he gasped for air. He slid back down underneath the covers, clutching at them with only his fingers showing as he pulled them all the way up to his chin and pressed his sweaty head deep into his pillow. Rosa could hear him breathing even from where she was standing. It was like the sound of someone crumpling plastic bags with every breath he took. But all she could think about was how bad that pillow must smell after a full week of him resting his sweaty, sickly head on it while he coughed up a volcano of mucus from his lungs.

"Of course," he said to her, with only his bloodshot eyes turned toward her now, "at the rate I'm declining, my end may be sooner than we think. Don't forget me if I die, OK?"

She looked at him and shook her head as if to say, "of course I won't forget you, baby." But silently she was thinking to herself, "leave it to you to somehow find a way to turn this whole thing into a self-serving load of crap about you, stinky man."

And now for a video stolen from deep in the '80s:

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Tuesday's Turds


So I was just visiting a blog from long ago when I decided to leave a comment. And then I thought better of it. And then I realized that I used to think of this person as a friend and later, as someone who was not interested in being a friend at all to me. And so I sat there wondering if I should comment or if perhaps they would not care for me to. And then I realized that I waste time on a lot of people who don't make me feel especially welcome. And I began to wonder why I do that? Why do I spend one minute of my time on people who don't seem to care if I stop by and aren't even nice enough to be my friend on Facebook or Twitter or some other website that barely involves any real contact at all? Why don't I just write these people off and drop them from my world altogether? I don't know, but a change is coming. I can feel it boiling up inside of me.


I just saw an ad for yet another new cop show on TV featuring pretty people playing cops who go around beating the living crap out of anyone and everyone who gets in their way. It's called "Chicagoland" or "ChicagoCode" or something. Basically, according to the world of TV, there are the cops and then there are the 'bad guys' and that means anyone who isn't a cop, reporter, prosecutor, or woman. So if you're some guy standing on the sidewalk working a hotdog stand and the TV cops come along, expect to get the shit kicked out of you because you're a 'bad guy' and therefore not a human being. I get the impression that the writers of these shows have never been roughed up by real cops or had anyone they care about beaten and tortured and sent to the hospital by overzealous and unaccountable real cops because if they had they might hold a slightly different view of a world filled with bad cops*. And that's what most of these TV cops are, bad cops. We don't need more of this.

I remember a brief period when I was a kid, the baby boomers had gained so much experience dealing with bad cops that, once they began to come into power, they altered laws governing how police treat private citizens to such a degree that many people felt the cops had their hands tied behind their backs because suddenly they had to respect a few basic human rights among the citizens. On television many shows wouldn't even allow their TV cops to carry guns (CHiPs) or really rough anyone up to any great extent. It was the age of Charlie's Angels and love taps that took a man down without any real harm or indecent assaults to the genitals. That didn't last long, though, and today we live in a world where it seems like things have gone too far the other way. Way too far.


We're in the heat of the NFL playoffs leading up to the Superbowl, the biggest game of the year, and I'm already sick of watching football. Despite this football fatigue, the NFL corporate bigwigs are pushing to add 2 more weeks of games, which the players themselves don't want. And whose grand idea was it to move the Pro Bowl to the week BEFORE the Superbowl? Clearly anyone playing in the Superbowl can't play in that game, so that removes many top players from that game. Sometimes I think every corporate and political leader in America is high on crack.


For the past few years there has been a long overdue revolt among conservative voters against their own Republican Party. It couldn't be more obvious that the leaders of the Republican Party are totally out of touch with and often opposed to the views of their voter base. Following 2 devastating defeats in a row in national elections where conservative voters sent a crystal clear message to their party that they were not willing to accept the treacherous douchebags being offered to them in place of actual leaders, the voters grew fed up and formed the Tea Party, a movement more than an actual political party, which assembles disgruntled voters and mobilzes them to action. They kicked out many "party men" in congressional elections, booting the Republican leadership approved douches and replacing them with a third-party candidate from out of nowhere, often winning the overall election due to the fact that their candidate more accurately reflected the views of the voters than either the 'chosen' Republican candidate or the Democrat. Despite all this, the Republican Party leadership remains primarly a Log Cabin affair, with the same good old boys and girls being chosen for the more important positions, such as Speaker of the House and especially the Republican Party leader himself, previously held by a guy almost no one had ever heard of and then replaced with another guy no one has ever heard of. Meanwhile, their Speaker of the House, Mr Crybaby Boehner, continues to very cynically and shamelessly play his "I feel your pain" female-appeasement card by dressing himself in pink and crying like a blue-eyed infant every time the cameras are rolling, just to show how terribly sensitive and caring he is. Clearly this man has higher aspirations. He obviously believes that the key to achieving greater positions of power for himself is to sucker emotion-focused female voters into thinking he is a delicate flower who could substitute for Oprah if she should ever go on vacation. To the rest of us he is a good indication that the cleanup of that particular political party isn't nearly done yet. Perhaps the Republican Party leaders and the few males still left in the Democratic Party could get together and form a new party, the Metrosexual Party, with their official party color of pink, and devote as much time and energy as they please to tearful appeals to Oprah fans while the rest of us focus on the actual issues.


I don't know what to make of this, but four days after my last pump class workout I am still walking like a testicular cancer patient because my legs are so sore. I had complained repeatedly here and elsewhere about my trainer not really doing what I hired him to do. This intense pain combined with my lousy performance in pump class seems to support my view. Its ridiculous the shape I'm in after working out so much over the years. If I can survive this class I think it will help me a lot.

The Blog World

Blogs come and blogs go and why I'm still here I do not know. I've noticed that truly spectacular blogs often inspire new blogs written by their real-life friends, but those supplementary blogs seem to flame on and then burn out much more quickly than the original that inspired them. And then there are the supernovas, the blogs that burst onto the scene, dazzle us all with their newness and unique perspectives, and then just as quickly shut down. There are so many great blogs that have come onto the scene and inspired us over the years, only to eventually retire and walk away, leaving a hole in our blogrolling hearts in need of filling. After almost 7 years of this I have begun to feel that some blogs simply cannot be replaced. Those blogs tend to be written by people who are remarkably unique and likeable. And then there are the other blogs, like mine, written by dysfunctional people who seem to inspire as many haters as fans, if not more, and yet continue to creep along for reasons that make sense only to the blogger themself.

A fellow blogger had suggested to me that the name of my blog, Nude Memphis, actually drives a lot of potential readers away as it creates the impression of being a porno blog. I don't know if this is true or not, but I'm betting most of you aren't still reading at this point and thus won't see or respond to this question, but I'd like to know what you think about that? Should I drop "Nude" from the title of my blog?

And speaking of nude, what the fuck is this shit?

EL GUINCHO Bombay from MGdM Marc Gómez del Moral on Vimeo.

* Bad Cops - I just want to make clear that I do recognize the existence of both good cops and bad cops. We need good cops and good laws. Unfortunately, recent developments in our laws have done nothing to encourage more good cops, but plenty to create a lot more bad cops. Our lawmakers have been totally absent on issues in need of authentic leadership and decent legislation dealing with many very real problems. Even many veteran cops have voiced concerns about a lot of things going on today and Lord knows the medical community has.
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So Gay

What the fuck is "double dream hands" anyway?

Let's improve on this shit a little bit:

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Loonies On the Path - LI - Silver Lexus


I am a totally self-focused, strong, independent woman in my silver Lexus. I don't use blinkers because I know where I am going and I don't care if no one else knows. I drive slowly when you are behind me because I am a bitter, selfish person who gets pleasure out of aggravating other drivers. I see that you have a large truck with heavy grill guard which will crush my Lexus if you actually hit me, but I trust your self-restraint enough that I am going to fuck with you and dare you to hit me even though I know it could kill me. I'm an American woman, rich and powerful. You won't hit me. You wouldn't dare.

I chose a Lexus because that's what all the other managers drive and also because its just as uppity as a Jaguar, but without the stigma of being openly pretentious that Jag has. I chose silver because I feel that silver effectively communicates to the world that I am above you all, especially the ordinary workers. I am in management. I am important. I am more important than you.

I work at BAE Systems, a woman-owned company in massive decline with broad management problems related to the extreme micromanaging we do here. The intense bitchiness doesn't help any, either. We promote based on sex, and female is the only sex that counts in America, so we only promote females. They know they were promoted based on their vaginas and so they are anxious to prove that they deserve to be in charge regardless. This is why they micromanage their subordinates so badly. I am one of them, a micromanaging vagina promoted beyond my level of competence. Hence the pretentious silver Lexus that I drive, my bitterness, and my habit of fucking with men in traffic while on my way to work.

I hate my job. I hate BAE Systems. I hate the stress of knowing that I don't really know what I'm doing and the constant fear that everyone else knows, too. As much as I micromanage the employees under me, my bitch of a boss micromanages me. It's hell. There's so much estrogen in this place we could almost bottle it and sell it to post-menopausal women for supplements. Sure, we're connected to the defense industry, but the only thing manly about what we do here is the phallic shape of the weapons we work on. The stress levels in this place are high enough to cause miscarriages and mental breakdowns. Some think there already have been mental breakdowns, but the level of crazy is just so high that you can't tell the difference.

I guess the real reason that I drive to work slowly in the passing lane, spending so much time and effort blocking other drivers who are trying to get to work is the fact that I hate my job and don't want to be here. I'd rather fuck around in traffic for an extra 30 minutes than be at my desk feeling my blood pressure rising while dodging my boss or the latest fucking stupid, useless meeting where we are all demeaned and humiliated by some twat on speakerphone whose ass we have to kiss day in and day out even though we've never actually met her face-to-face. They constantly hint about layoffs while shifting more and more of our work to Connecticut, which raises our stress levels ever higher. My God, Connecticut, the virtual capital of cuntliness! The only people here who are willing to transfer up there are lesbians, because that's all there is in Connecticut - lots and lots of angry lesbians.

So I guess the reason that I fuck with all of you in traffic is that I am miserable. And I want you to be miserable too. I'm a cunt.

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Memphis Conan Doyle and His Amazing Quill Pen

"Here's how it works, OK? You get drunk and start giving me shit on Twitter and I block you. Then I block you on Facebook. Then I drop you from my blogroll. Then I block your email and your cell so you can't text me. Cause you know what? I never asked for your fuckin' opinion," he said to her with a seductive grin.

She quivered slightly as his manly reprimand touched some deep recess inside her brain, the little girl region that wants a big, strong daddy-figure to pick her up and toss her around like a tiny little girl who is always safe while he's around.

The quiver led to a little stomach bubbling. "Uh oh!" she thought to herself. And then she farted.

Her face began to glow a red like an electric heater that wastes electricity faster than a fat chick on a Walmart scooter in search of Twinkies, throttle flat out kicking it.

"Pardon me," she squirmed. "I'm sooooo embarrassed."

"No ma'am," he shot back. "If you were bare assed we'd be gettin' busy and bangin' uglies like a pair of Puerto Ricans in a Chevy Impala with a huge bag'o dope, mon."

She wasn't sure why he had suddenly started talking like a Jamaican black man, but it was sort of turning her on, and sort of dumb. She grabbed her keys off the coffee table and began moving slowly towards the door. She was hoping he'd stop her, but also she needed to pee and wasn't sure what might happen if he did. Could she hold it? That fart was the first warning.

"Where you goin', baby? Maybe I'll come wit yew," he said through half closed smoky Italian eyes.

She thought fast and fired back, "I gotta dump a load, baby. I'll only be a second. I go real fast." He nodded and she clicked her 6-inch stiletto heels across the room and through the door, closing it behind her. Now out of sight, she broke into an ankle-straining run, barely tapping the tips of her toes across the floor as she went because she was moving so fast. The door to the ladies room, painted a Pepto Bismol pink and perpetually smeared with handprints and spermicide, loomed invitingly ahead. She wasn't sure if she was going to make it. Worse, the thought suddenly occured to her that the handicapped stall might not be vacant. Oh sure, there was the other stall, but it was cramped and never seemed to have paper or toilet seat covers. Worse, someone always seemed to have just hovered over the seat and hosed it down, but never cleaned it up. She had long ago given up all hope for that toilet and just gone straight for the handicapped stall. What if someone was using it?

She burst through the bathroom door with a loud boom, like the sound of a shotgun being shoved up a donkey's ass and fired out his mouth, banging her right shoulder against the doorframe as she entered. "Ow, fuck" she exclaimed, not slowing the least bit in her quest for gastric release. "Oh, thank God," she exclaimed, seeing the stall empty and waiting. She skidded on pinpoint heels into the stall, spinning with the skill of a ballerina to position her butt for a rapid sit-down. Skirt up and panties down in a flash, she was in position and dropping bombs at record speed.

"oh please, oh please," she said aloud to herself, "don't leave, don't leave. I'll be done and back in there in two seconds. Just don't leave. I haven't been laid in sooo long."

And then she saw it, the dreaded empty brown cardboard roll.


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Friday College Girls Sledding

All morning long I've had various random funny ideas pop into my head and then disappear before I could write them down. Now it's afternoon, I have my editor open to write them down and the funny ideas are gone. I'm sure you are thrilled to read that I am writing this post without the funny ideas instead of just waiting for them to return, eh? Yes, I am a bastard like that.

I have made a new blog buddy. She's a crazy brunette hottie who gets more blog hits and comments in 5 minutes than I get all week. I try to tell myself it's because of affirmative action, but I secretly suspect its because she's funny and good-looking at the same time, whereas I'm a naked guy on a toilet beside the road, which is just sort of odd.

People keep trying to talk to me first thing in the morning and subtly ask me to do things for them without flat out asking. Subtlety doesn't work on me when half my brain is still unconscious. You have to just say what you mean, like a man, instead of farting around with hints, like a woman. No offense meant to women, but any of you who are married surely must have discovered this about men by now. Hints in the morning, unless they are about sex, get you nowhere.

There are college girls in skin-tight jeans sledding along the sloped sides of bridges and elevated highways here today. They have Barbie pink sleds and cute boots and are giggling and causing car accidents among men and lesbians driving past on the still-icy roadways. I know this because I just got back from lunch and nearly had a wreck while trying to take a photo. I did not get the photo, but I also did not have a wreck. It was neither or both, but apparently one without the other was not an option. Although, if I hadn't had a meeting I was supposed to be at, I would have stopped the car and got out to take a proper photo. I am a photographer, after all, so I can do things like that, even if I was only using my cell phone camera.

"What is the gender of your baby?"
"Whatever I want it to be on any given day."

During lunch I had a long and semi-interesting conversation with a guy about the misuses of the English language and influence of political correctness as they both relate to the word "gender." Gender does not mean the same as biological sex, if you didn't know, although in these feminist times it has been forcibly interchanged with it by lesbian English teachers at ivy league colleges for purely political reasons. How we got on this topic, I have no idea. But we did, and as you know I definitely have opinions on this subject, so I let them fly. He also has opinions, although they were more off-the-cuff theories about where this might have come from and what might have been in the past, but he did no research and so many of his assumptions were based on what we are told today, as opposed to the actual verifiable facts of history minus the influence of political correctness/feminist rewriting of the recorded past. In the end, neither of us cared enough to get heated about it and so we both shorted our waiter's tip for giving shitty service and left with a feeling of satisfaction that we had done the right thing, as this was not the first time we had eaten at this restaurant and received shitty service from this particular waiter. It was also not the first time we'd had a funky conversation about weird shit while eating there. What's up with that?

So there is lots of shit going on in the news that doesn't interest me much, and yet I'm about to quickly skim over some of it for no good reason.

A crazy man, and I don't mean bullshit crazy like Lorena Bobbit or Mary Winker who were just bitches and not the same as crazy, shot and killed a federal judge and attempted to kill a Congresswoman out in Arizona a few days ago. Since random events happening in the farthest corners of the United States are reported in far away countries like Australia even though they are of little importance to Australians, I will assume you all heard about this. Also, an Aussie on the internet was flat out going off on the need for gun control because of this woman being shot and we had an argument, so I know our shitty networks are reporting our news in other countries who should not even care about them because this guy was quoting CNN like it was the Gospel. Anyway, our White House and Democratic media were reporting that Sarah Palin had shot these people and not some crazy Marxist at all. They even went so far as to interrupt the latest episodes of Modern Family and Cougar Town just so Obama could make a political campaign speech basically saying that all non-Democrats should tone down their political rhetoric even as his own remains highly inflammatory and his supporters booed, at a funeral mind you, the Republican Governor of the state in which the shooting occurred when she got up to speak. And somewhere in Washington, I'm sure, Republican House Speaker John Boehner, wearing his favorite pink tie, broke down and cried. If there's one thing the Democratic Party has consistently stood for it is inflammatory rhetoric and open hatred of anyone who disagrees. If there is one thing the Republican Party has consistently stood for it is not really standing for anything with any real conviction and repeatedly offering up presidential candidates like Bob Dole, John McCain or the ever-tearful John Boehner, none of whom inspire much of anything in any non-Democrat, let alone inflammatory rhetoric. Meanwhile, everyone who ever knew the shooter has consistently reported that he is indeed quite insane and always has been, yet even so, prior to his shooting at political figures he has never been dealt with in any way by anyone who might have had the power to defuse the threat he posed. Shades of mass murderer and crazed shooter Amy Bishop can't help but emerge here, along with the Muslim jihad terrorist who shot and killed soldiers at Ft Hood in Texas and the crazed shooter at Virgina Tech, whom everyone knew to be insane and feared long before anything terrible ever happened.


What do world leaders do when they are in meetings with all the other world leaders and find themselves with the unavoidable need to fart? Do they just rip one and say "I am important. I can do that." Or do they hurriedly excuse themselves and run to fart out in the hall, like my mom in church? I'll bet Russia's PM, Putin, just rips it loud and proud. I'll bet Obama farts in the hall, like a girl. I'll bet Sarkozy of France and whatsherface of Germany both slide them out as quietly as they can, but otherwise don't care if anyone smells it. I'm not sure what to think Gilliard of Australia might do. I guess it depends on how drunk she is at the time, eh?

I farted

There has been yet another reported instance of a man being shot in the genitals by a cop with a Taser and having his entire genitalia totally destroyed by it. Salaad Mahamed was already in prison and was laying on the floor on his back when they shot him directly in the testicles, literally spearing one of his testicles like a spear gun through a fish and destroying it, before the 50,000 volts ripped through him and fried all the nerves in his entire groin area, leaving him totally impotent and incontinent, like so many of the other men who have been shot in the genitals with a Taser before him. So now, because a guard didn't like the way he was laying on the floor, he is partially castrated, totally impotent, and has to wear diapers for the rest of his life. You would think, with a clearly cruel and evil torturous thing like this being done to him by authorities, he must have been heavily armed and quite dangerous, right? But no, he had no weapons and was not violent, just like all the other men who police have shot in the balls with Tasers and emasculated. And just a year ago, Taser International sent out revised instructions on how to properly use their guns, instructing police to "shoot low" and target the groin area as much as possible. And this for a weapon that is used almost exclusively on unarmed, non-violent men! It is an absolute outrage.

One thing I have learned over the years, and apparently this is unusual for a guy to know, is that girls will gladly accept photos of a man's bare ass, but when it comes to junk shots there is really just no one wanting to see that. I have seen far too many girls get a text message, look at their phone, make a face of disgust, and then hit 'delete' before telling me that some random guy just sent them a picture of his junk in various phases of sexual excitement. I have never sent one out myself and I never will. I'd like to think that somewhere a hot girl is sad about that, but I know better.

Happy to use it, but they don't want to see it.

As long as the Canadian government is banning old rock songs which a tiny minority find offensive (Dire Straights - Money for Nothing) I'd like to know if they might go ahead and ban all the old late '70s, early '80s disco songs which truly were disgusting, like everything by KC and the Sunshine Band, for example. I think as long as such dramatic and blatant censorship is going to be used it might as well benefit all of us rather than merely a tiny influential but wealthy few. Ban disco. In fact, ban everything that even remotely sounds like disco. In fact, if any episodes of an old show called "Solid Gold" still exist, ban every single song that was ever performed on that show.

Disco - it still sucks

Apparently there is some controversy over the fact that 'they' have changed the Zodiac, resulting in people having new "star signs." My new star sign is Superfreakius. I'm Rick James, bitch!

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A Quiz or Meme or Survey or Something

Be honest, who texted you last?

Mafia Wars from Facebook texted me last to tell me I was just killed. SO AWESOME!

Do you sleep with the door open or closed?

Closed and locked with a loaded gun nearby. Seriously. You think I'm making this shit up, but I'm totally not. Think about it, what's my name - MEMPHIS Steve. So where do I stay at? That's right - Memphis. Load up Now you know.

Do you drink tea?

I drink tea if there isn't any coffee and for some reason tea is available, but that hasn't been the case in many, many years so ... I drink iced tea now. Sometimes.

Do you have plans for tomorrow?

I plan to drive to work through ice and snow and salt and crashed cars with my truck in 4-wheel-drive cause everything is expected to be frozen solid including the roads.

What’s worse: dry skin or chapped lips?

Athletes foot and jock itch both beat those hands down.

Would you be surprised if your parents had another baby together?

A bit, yes, because Dad is dead and Mom is 70-something and not particularly friendly towards men.

Would you rather go to Canada or California on vacation?

You know, it really depends on what time of the year it is and where in Canada or California exactly. I'd very much like to see Vancouver, BC, Canada, but if it's the dead of winter and there isn't something going on, like the winter X-Games or something, then maybe it'd be better to make the winter vacation to California, preferably southern California, like maybe San Diego. Anyway, I hear the girls are incredibly beautiful in southern California AND Vancouver, so either one is a win.

Do you want to get married?

I don't know. I think I did that already.

Are you wearing jeans, shorts, sweatpants or pajama pants?

I'm wearing torn jeans and it isn't sexy.

So, what if you married the last person you texted?

I'm sure they'd be very surprised.

Last person you told a secret to?

I have no life, so I guess as a consequence of that I have no secrets to tell.

What are you listening to at the moment?

G4's Attack of the Show has the woman who plays the queen of the Vs on and she's being interviewed. She's talking about how she has an account on Twitter, @missmorenab, but she doesn't know how to act on there because she doesn't want people to dislike her for being as sarcastic and foul-mouthed as she actually is in real life.

Where was the last place you fell asleep other than your bed?

Yesterday I fell asleep sitting in a chair at a neighbor's house and I think I snored a little.

Is there someone that you believe you will always be attached to?

I don't know. It depends.

Are relationships ever really worth it?

I feel like I'm back in 8th grade here. Yes, a good relationship is worth it. Sometimes a bad one is even if only to help you learn to avoid such people and abuse in the future.

Do you believe in love?

Isn't that a song by Huey Lewis? Do you believe in love - you're making me believe it too

When was the last time you saw your father?

Well, I saw him in a dream a few nights ago, but other than dreams I haven't seen him since he was in the hospital just before he died.

Have any memories that you’d like to forget?

Yes, I think they call those "flashbacks" and they relate to past trauma and shit.

Is there someone you really like to hang out with and just talk about stuff?’

I hang out with just about anyone who wants to hang out with me. So many friends are busy so why be snobby about it, right? If you're free and want to hang out, just let me know.

Have you ever been called prince or princess?


Do you think teenagers can be in love?

Sure, my grandparents married when they were teens and stayed together until he died many long years later

How fast does your mood change?

Normally not that fast. It depends on what happens to change it exactly. One sexist speech from Hillary Clinton and I can go from happy-go-lucky to totally pissed off in an instant.

How are you feeling?


Do you want someone to call you right now?

No, its 1 am and I want to go to bed

What do you always take with you?

My penis and them testicles

Is your bed comfortable?

Its like a wet sponge that you slowly sink into as the night progresses, so that you wake up in a hole and have to fight to climb out.

Would you say you’re an understanding person?

What?? I don't speak moron. Engrish only, fool!

Are you generally a happy person?

Less so lately, but who knows what tomorrow may bring?

Who’s in your profile picture with you?

My invisible parrot. Arrrrr!

Were you single on Valentines Day?

Not legally.

What is the last movie you watched?

Wild Things 3, I think. I may have the title wrong. I don't know. What's the movie that made Charlie Sheen's ex-wife famous? I think it was Wild Things. Anyway, it was a cheap film that made a lot of money, so they made like a billion sequels. I saw the third one.

Do you listen to songs when you’re done?

Done watching Wild Things 3? No, I think I went to bed and dreamed I was a rich Florida man chasing 17-year-old girls who were plotting my murder.

How long does it take you to fall asleep at night?

Normally it takes about 15 minutes, but the night most of the snow fell this week I couldn't sleep at all. The light reflecting off the snow made it look like morning outside.

Are you talkative?

Not so much

Were you single last summer?

I was mostly alone, but not single.

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Random Mental Machine Gunning

It sucks to be sick. Sick sucks. Sucky sick. Suck my sick.

Oh was I missing a bowl game featuring a blowout? Darn, I was busy having a life.

I just saw "Season of the Witch." I'm so confused, I thought this was a film about Nancy Pelosi's rise to Speaker of the House!

All the ice has melted in my Coke and now it tastes like piss. Yet still I'm drinking it. Why do I do this?

I'm so ashamed! I just followed someone on Twitter simply because a hot celebrity follows them. I don't even know who they are but their account is verified so they must be some kind of celebrity, too.

To sleep, perchance to dream naughty pornographic dreams!

Why is it such a pain to buy toothpaste on 20,000 different types of toothpaste? Really?!

Is that Nancy Pelosi guest starring on "Lie To Me" or am I mistaken? Look, she's lying again!

There is jack crap on TV and yet I'm too lazy to get up and load my new DVD instead. This is lazy taken to the extreme.

A Taser shock to the genitals is technically sexual assault and torture, but our government calls it "family comedy" if the victim is male ?? And Taser International calls it "particularly effective." Yeah, so is a .40 bullet to the heart, but we don't allow that either except in a life-and-death self-defense scenario, assholes.

The road beckons with a siren song, yet the toilet holds me here as if 'gainst my will. Foresooth, I must poo 'ere I go. Egads!

Dad used to say "never miss an opportunity to shut up" to which I'd reply "the best leaders lead by example" and he'd hit me.

If Justice wore a blindfold our courts would be a dramatically different place. As it is we have a circus and soap opera blended together.

St Lorena

If the Press treated men the way it treats women then Jack the Ripper would be called a "strong independent man" and they'd pity him. He'd be on Tavis Smiley talking about how hard his life has been. Later he'd do non-stop interviews with local news reporters all across the country anxious to kiss his ass and tell him how sorry they are for his suffering.

We made this shit up

I once studied a martial art that had no name so we just called it "eyes, throat, balls." We didn't even have to stretch before class. These days they call it Krav Maga and it's all the rage. We were cutting edge and didn't even know it.

Remember when martial arts were for self-defense? Now we have krav maga, which is yiddish for "how to be an effective violent sexual predator"

How is it we imprison soldiers for waterboarding terrorists but not cops or bitter ex-girlfriends for Tasering unarmed men's testicles? Torture is torture and wrong is wrong.


How ironic that they would have freed this man on parole many years ago if only he would say he was guilty of a rape he did not commit. You would think that saying you were guilty would keep you locked up instead of the other way around.

Texan declared innocent after 30 years in prison
A Texas man had his conviction overturned Tuesday for a rape and robbery he didn't commit after serving 30 years in prison, more time than any other inmate subsequently exonerated by DNA evidence in his state.

Boo hoo Boehner

I can't believe the new speaker of the House if named Boehner. I mean, it's SO close to Boner. Yes, I realize even a boner as speaker is better than a crazy cunt like Pelosi, but even so, this Boehner cries a lot. What's up with that?

Disney Molester
SS Pedo

Disney has just announced the arrival of its newest 4,000 passenger cruise ship, the SS Pedophile, down at Port Canaveral, Florida. It can hold 4,000 adults, or 8,000 meaty little children plus a crew of Disney predators who run the ship and keep the little buggers buggered.

The Classic Combover

Researchers at the University of Pennsylvania believe they have found the cause of male pattern baldness, and thus the beginnings of a possible cure, prompting US Supreme Court Judge Ruth Bader Ginsburg to shout "glory hallelujah, I'm gonna have my own hair again, and not just on my face!" The President himself reportedly responded to the news by asking, "have they looked into the cause of micro penis? I would really like for them to get to work on that as soon as possible."

Remember a few years ago when I blogged about the discovery that the water all around Washington DC is polluted with "estrogenic compounds" which have a castrating effect on all male animals, including humans? Well, here's the new speaker of the House:

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