Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Make Sure your S*#t is Still Mine!

A question was raised on the radio the other day about the "American Dream". With the economy the way it is, they were curious to know, not only how many people could refrain from yelling "Boba Booey, Boba Booey, Howard Stern's penis!!", but whether or not owning a home is still considered a piece of the American dream. Apparently a lot of people that rent answered the call with their opinions about why it's better not to own a home with a long list of reasons. You don't have to mow the lawn, fix electrical or plumbing problems, or worry about whether or not you need to tell the neighbors you're cheating on your wife so at least someone will find out. There's no homeowner's association and there are no property taxes. Jehova's witnesses won't come to your door as much because they fear doors with a letter on it. All I had to do was turn the "t" upside down. Basically there were nothing but upsides to renting rather than buying. Stupid people will say, "but you're just throwing your money away.", which leads me to my point. Can you actually be a "home owner" or is that as much a contradictory statement as saying "Anne Coulter is insightful."?

No matter how much you pay on "real estate", it will never truly be yours. It's kind of like being in love with a stripper. There will always be property tax breathing down your neck. Now some people will say that property tax is good because it pays for local services like police, fire department, prostitution, and Wal-Mart greeters, but when you have to pay a tax on something that should be yours, it can be taken from you if you don't pay. Doing some research I found that not only did a guy rape an eight day old baby, but the word "real" in "real estate" actually came from the word "royal" Real estate translates to "the king's land". The difference between owning land and real estate is that real estate is contracted out. So what you're doing when you buy real estate is renting it out from the government, IRS, banks, Bill Gates, etc... You could get some old hick farmer to give you a piece of his land that he got when his ancestors walked out to it and said "mine!", build your own house out of materials you got from Tony that knows a guy down at Home Depot, and You will still have to pay tax on it to where if you don't, it will all be taken away from you. Just like an anorexic on a treadmill, you will lose everything.

I did find out there are ways to own your house outright, but it has to do with Alloidial titles and land patents. Without these things, nothing about your land is yours. They will charge you this tax all your life and when you decide one day that your balls finally dropped and you say, "You know what, this here is mine, I'm not paying you for what I already paid someone else for", they seize your property to make up for the loss in revenue you failed to fork out. So uh... how're you enjoying our government so far? I swear it's like an ex wife you can't get away from. You give them the good china, they want your copy of Fatal Frame II and I swear to God I'll never get that back, you f%$*ing whore!



So keep in mind what you really want in life, the ability to pick up and go whenever you want, or be stuck with something that's not even yours for 30 years or your credit gets turned to poo. I remain impartial.

In lighter news, apparently some guy raped an eight day old baby. What a sick world we live in.

Unemployment is Better than the Anus Pounder

In all of this madness concerning the economy, lay-offs aren't really a concern to people in certain fields. The medical field for one example is still thriving and probably producing more revenue than ever. Other good examples would be the porn industry, idiots with bad acting skills, giant tits, and alcoholism looking for 15 minutes of fame in their own reality show, strippers (which sometimes classify as the previous example), chain restaurants, and casinos. I had the raw end of the deal because instead of becoming a midget juggler at the circus like I went to college for, I had to pick land surveying, which is almost a dead industry now, unless you're in the private sector. Getting screwed out of even the simplest of jobs affects my private sector enough as it is. When you apply for a job nowadays, since they're so scarce, most places that pay a decent amount require experience right out of the gate. Since I've been doing the same thing for 10 years, it's about as hard as a Jew with a coupon to have already had experience in anything else. Now don't get me wrong, I'm fully capable of learning just about any job that doesn't require a license from some pencil pushing suit, but those jobs are held over for kids with nothing to pay for but their cell phone bills and Nickleback tickets (which I will address with a vengeance in a minute). The worst part about experience requirements is that you have to have experience to get the job and you have to get the job to get experience, and the knee bone is connected to the hip bone. Since jobs are few and far between, companies are cherry picking and it screws the American people like Bob Vila on an oak cabinet. I understand that people are too lazy to train business world noobs, but it beats having idiots for employees that have 20 years experience and can't even spell their name right.


I've sent I don't know how many copies of my resume, but apparently, it's not appropriate to put, "I punch babies good" under "things I do for money", so I completely changed it to say, "I punch babies well". Actually, if I squint my eyes just right, the part where I say that I've been abducted by aliens, therefore I am a spiritual person, almost looks like it says I rape bunny rabbits, but it's alright because I do. Just look at 'em, they're so f$#*ing cuddly!

The reason I'm so upset though is that there are way, way too many teenagers that don't have families to support working jobs that people like me need. Part of the problem in this economy I think is that the working age for most places is anywhere between 15 and 16 years old (I think that's right around the time most teenage girls have their third child, a.k.a. "grandma's" third "roommate"). These kids are cheaper labor, don't need much insurance, and 80% of them now wear women's jeans for some reason. Therefore, I propose each state increase the working age to 18. That way, instead of our money going straight towards those little neon lights that go underneath some chode's Honda Civic, they can go towards things that matter to middle aged men like me, like lap dances and booze... oh, and diapers and food for my children. Of course, whatever kid that has a job at the time would be grandfathered in until he or she quits or is fired because my Mcdonald's order is ALWAYS WRONG!!! Seriously, how hard is it to make a burger with no cheese, extra lettuce, one pickle on the side, no bun, no ketchup, add mayonnaise, add bologna, extra cheese, add olives, no meat, no mustard, no cheese, sesame seeds picked off in the northeast quadrant, and cut into fun animal shapes; with raw french fries and a drink, hold the cup, and a taco without sour cream? For God's sake, learn how to do your job instead of pounding my anus! Seriously, I didn't order that!

True Blood: Taste the Rainbow

Is it just me, or is the only good excuse for vampire media these days getting a little... gay? What is it with story telling on cable television that absolutely has to include physical "bromance" to the point you get that taste in your mouth like someone regurgitated warm carrots down your throat hole. Not boiled carrots either; those little frozen dinner carrot cubes that are never really fully cooked and they come mixed with those rubbery, cold bits-o'-goodness homeless people call corn. The matter at hand (warm carrot cube vomit or not) is the HBO phenomenon True Blood, which I personally enjoy and look forward to every Sunday night. I also look forward to expelling Saturday night's burritos for those of you keeping up with current events.

True Blood, unlike the pale twink fairy movie franchise Twilight, actually has story and character development that self-respecting people should care about and devote some down time to... if ever they find the time to get out of junior high and stop shelling out money to a bad acting, sparkly fag like Robert Pattinson. For the record, concerning people who get offended at everything, by fag, I don't mean he's gay. Don't get me wrong, he's most definitely a fag, he just so happens to be gay too. Anyway, enough about the oober cupcake fairy fag Bob Pattinson. We're here today to discuss one of the bigger annoyances in life, like why the hell are they f*$%ing with True Blood's sexual preference? Do we really need every single vampire story in the media today to either be obviously gay (Twilight) or in this case, demonstratively gay?
Let me tell you a little something about myself. I love lesbian porn just as much as the next guy, but we men have a double standard when it comes to inter-gender free-for-all. I'm sorry, I don't make the rules.

courtesy of some guy with hairy arms

Last week on True Blood, Lafayette and Jesus (<--- I know, right?) have their second make-out scene while Eric and Russel's spicy little Saturday night burrito boy toy have their own little kissy, kissy. Not too long ago, there was an episode where Sam had a dream where he was about to get naked with Bill Compton in the shower right after another close call make-out scene... Not that it's not oh so detrimental to the story, but this show is supposed to be about vampires, werewolves, shape shifters, telepaths, ancient demigods, and evil christians (<--- not like that's anything new). Why on Earth are all the dudes sharing tongue attacks when they should be ripping each others' faces off?

That's like somebody saying, "Hey guys, I've got this great idea for a movie. It's gonna be called "The Terminator" and it's about this soldier from a future where machines rule the world. He becomes the father of his best friend and protects Linda Hamilton from an Austrian in a leather jacket, but during all the shooting and explosions, we're gonna have some dudes makin' out and the android will say "I need your clothes, your boots, and some of that sweet ass."

and the executives reply:

".......................Who the hell is Linda Hamilton?"

I'm sure that's how it would have went down so long as there was a generation of pasty, emo scene kids generating revenue wherever gay can be found.

Well, at least with True Blood there's no need to discuss what team you're on. Apparently they're all on the blue team.

No, not that one.

LOST Just Gave Me a Penguin

With the final season of LOST coming to a close with the book-ended eye flutters of Dr. Jack Shephard, somehow I feel like most of the general populace as I watched a plane fly over the island, made it through the first commercial, and said... "what?". For those of you who don't like spoilers, I promise I won't give anything away... anything at all.

(But let's be honest, it could have looked more like this:)

Ok, so everybody dies and all dogs go to heaven, except for Michael because he's a jackass and his son is apparently eight feet tall. The ending was actually the end... and then another end after the ending, where Mr. Echo was no where to be found. I have no idea why the writers of LOST make it apparent that black people (except for Rose because she's a sweetie) don't get to go to church, but if you ask me, whenever I go to Golden Corral Sunday afternoon, that's obviously a lie. From about 7 in the evening, to 1:05 in the morning I hogged the television to watch a 2-hour review special, a 2 and a half hour finale, and a 1-hour Jimmy Kimmel LOST farewell show. Needless to say, I wasn't the only one scratching my head that night. They certainly did name the show appropriately. After I mulled over what happened, it made more sense to me what just happened, but only time will tell how long my brain will hold on to that. That, and I'm still pissed I never found out what happened to Shannon's inhaler.

A lot of questions, however, were answered during the final episode(s) last night. With the phrase, "You made a great number 2", we find out that all this time, Ben was a giant turd that came out of Hurley, most likely early into the first season, which would give him time to grow. Benjamin Linus himself was beaten more times than Pee Wee Herman's junk in a theater. I'm fairly certain it was symbolic of how hard it was to pop a squat in the jungle. Women can't have babies, and the men can't drop the kids off at the pool.

The "flash sideways" (which is how it was explained earlier on) wasn't actually an alternate time line showing what would happen if the plane hadn't crashed, but a flash WAY forward after all involved characters in the series had kicked the bucket ( insert Mr. Cluck Cluck joke here) and were experiencing a play-through of their lives up until they remembered they died so they could move on to the "real" afterlife in which Drive Shaft opens for Spinal Tap. Everyone that did the nasty on the island or wanted to do the nasty on the island is reunited in their own little after life and those crazy kids with the diamonds are still in the ground waiting for Miles to come back and snatch 'em up. All I want to know is, what happens to Mr. kung fu from the temple? Last but not least, why the hell didn't someone tell me Black Gandhi wasn't gonna be in the show.

Dude, why don't you ever say Hi to me?

Tim Burton Defines "Recycled Crap"

I realize I haven't been completely active within my responsibilities of filling the internet with true stories about fast food prostitutes and anecdotes involving mating rituals between white rabbits and Burt Reynolds' seamstress, but sometime between my last post and now, I received another baby girl to train in the arts of ruling the universe via hemorrhages. My wife walked in, laid down, pushed her out, smacked a nurse and chased a bottle of vodka with a bottle of tequila in a matter of 4 minutes, 18 seconds. Of course I'm being generous with the term "smacked". It all seemed to go as planned, except for the monkey that stormed in wearing a bikini, but we all got a good laugh from that... Then it threw the rabbit against the wall... Yeah, that wasn't so funny.

I've been looking at a lot of books lately. Why? Well, I'm in the middle of writing a book myself and I'm oh so amused by the way people perceive how it should be written. You see, this book is good because it follows a formula. It follows this formula because other good books follow the same formula. If it does not follow the formula, or one similar, it is not good because it is not like all of these other books. There's my dilemma. I don't want to write anything that's like any other story, but the kicker is, apparently it's not good literature because it's not a carbon copy of other good literature... kind of like how my poop isn't healthy because its red, unlike everyone else's poop. I guess you can't win the game unless you follow the rules (who were made by idiots). Isn't that what TV's like now?  Everything is a remake of something else, it's the same recycled crap from ten years ago, or it's reality television which is bad enough. People hate it, but it keeps selling. It's not just the money either; There are lots and lots of yuppie college know-it-all hippies that think they know good writing because they read 10-20 stories from hundreds of years ago that all follow a single pattern and since theirs does as well, it must be good. This philosophy can be best described as the ol' "douche bag of tricks" (I think that was a before and after on Wheel of Fortune). Here's how a conversation between two douches might look like:

"Hey, did you see Iron Man 2 yet?"

"No, it's nothing like the new Alice in Wonderland."

"Oh, I love Tim Burton"

"Oh, me too."

"Let's go suck each other off and talk about Tim Burton!"

"Great idea, my douchy gay hippie lover!"



Okay, maybe it doesn't have to involve Iron Man 2, but that part's pretty interchangeable. As long as you follow the same pattern, all douches basically sound like this.