"The Nothing Report" & "Braking Entertainment" Both Hate Oasis

I've finally finished my first video to be released on Youtube which happens to be a literal music video. If you're bored and get burnt out on chronically masturbating to cross-dressing pigmys that eat placentas and finger paint on each other with hamster poo, you can check it out here. In the course of my life on youtube, I'll be doing video blogs for The Nothing Report, maybe more literal videos, some other stuff in the style of Mystery Science Theater 3000, and if we ever get some money we'll begin our sit-com project "Braking News" The name for our database of thought is kind of a play on that name, Braking Entertainment. We don't have our own website yet; let's face it, I'm just not that technologically advanced. The best I can do is spend a day and a half figuring out how to fumble my way through windows movie maker without getting skid marks in my underoos.

I've always wondered why Batman spent his spare time daydreaming about small boys dressing like him.


 Why would I do video blogs when i can just write out my frustrations? There's a simple answer for that.....

I've got a cool hat.

Anyway, since writing is what I do best, That's pretty much what my endeavors will involve on my end. I don't have any cast members yet for our web show, so in my spare time I'll just be coming up with video blogs and  trying to find the thin line that borders rape with my wife....then I'll cross it only slightly.

It's too bad I'm into reverse rape.

............more on that later.

All I Got For Saturnalia was Christmas

Today is one of  about 5 days a year where everyone deems it necessary to make me wake up and do things. Looks great on paper I'm assuming, but even though I didn't get that memo, somehow I'm still responsible. Everywhere I go people are telling me to have a merry Christmas. I don't always find it imperitive to let them know that I don't celebrate pagan holidays because, well, they have no idea why of all things I don't take part in their ignorance.  Just getting my comic books last week took everything out of me answering a question from one of the guys working there. The internet isn't well known in the world of the baby boomer generation, so no one older than 40 is all that equipped to research fact from fiction. There are exceptions of course, but I make generalizations on my own web page because no one reads it.... and because it makes christians mad.

The idea of Santa Claus just confounds me. Of course any sane adult knows how fictional it is to think that one man could drink that much milk in one night, but just the concept of christians that supposedly live by faith to believe the invisible and spiritual actually think that it's alright to convince their child that someone like Santa Claus is real, then when the kids find out their infallible parents lied to them, they're still supposed to believe by the same parents' word that God is also real just kind of sickens me....that and the urban definition of space docking. How do the christians of the world even begin to wonder why most countries think they're idiots? They teach their kids to believe in God, Santa, The Easter Bunny, The Tooth Fairy, The Boogey man, The Man on the Moon, Christopher Walken, the female orgasm, ghosts, aliens, and the myth that Halle Berry is actually black. How many of those things do you think are real?

I see 2.

Do you think for a minute your child will believe in something that you teach them when you lie to them about so much to begin with? If I was your kid I'd shoot you in the face with a bazooka that fires alligators, which is what I asked Santa Claus for, just to rub it in. 

If any of you old school christians that "learn" everything you think you know by what your uneducated pastor tells you, The facts about Christmas, Saturnalia, Brumalia, the Winter Solstice, and the simple fact that none of your pagan adopted holidays have anything at all to do with God, Jesus, or Bee Arthur are easily researched. Don't bother trying to argue with people that actually know how to check facts and do proper research just because your momma told you there were three wise men. You might as well start burning your children alive in Gehenna like a true pagan.

I just found a website you can begin with right here. I haven't read that much and it might not be completely accurate, but that's not really my responsibility is it? Maybe some people won't make me do all the work for them and spoon feed 'em like little baby birds this time.

Anyway, have yourself some nice pagan debauchery and christian drunk parties this year. I can't wait to hear your New Years resolutions. If anything they probably involve sending Christopher Walken a big apology letter.

 ...and Welcome Back Black Gandhi, it's been a while.

The Nothing Report on Dating Fails

Ever think about where your dream girl is hiding?

 Picture by: Me



Yeah.......and here I thought the internet was there so you could lie about your weight. Turns out you can be truthful about that, but lie about how much you eat. Two wrongs apparently make one hell of a catch in this case.

Do we even wonder why there's no photo?

A Chick Going Into Labor is Anything But Silent

I was at the local greasy spoon tonight pondering the existence of midi-chlorians as I usually do when an eerily familiar yet annoying sound wave crept into the holes in my head I like to call "head holes". What would you assume this little tidbit of musical enjoyment was?... None other than "Silent Night" by one of three thousand various singers that God himself naturally selected to perform in front of live patrons who just so happen to commonly consume "taters". I couldn't help but repeat to myself what could have possibly been running through the mind of this mystery shopper:

"You know, when I got out of bed today, I had the undying urge to take some of this hard earned money I got from working third shift at the gas station and just...throw it away. I thought long and hard about it for hours until a light bulb magically appeared above my head and suddenly, I had it! I think I'll go down to the most redneck establishment known to man and play Silent Night on the jukebox. What better way to please myself than to spend actual currency on a jukebox in a restaurant with a broken urinal and used food on the floor so other people can hear Silent Night just one more time."

Actually I was being generous. I did some rough math in my head and came to the conclusion that the complete thought probably went more like this:



"Hey y'all, check this sh*t out! I luuuuuv me some f*#%in' Jesus music!"

 True story.

Cocaine is a Hell of a Drug...and Tile Cleaner!

I finally realized why I don't have a vote in the Senate....but I forgot. I also found a new use for tile cleaner.

Is it plausible that I still believe the best line in a movie hasn't been written yet? Would I even remotely know where to begin in creating this line? Is it in a comedy, a drama, a suspense mystery, scat porn, or documentary about the virgin Mary appearing in a chicken nugget? Would it be a run-on sentence or maybe even contain Olde English vernacular? Would it be originally written in braille by a blind trailer skank from South Africa? Would it even bother said writer if there actually are no trailers in South Africa and the word "skank" is constantly triggered by the spell checker? (Actually, I have no idea about the trailer thing, but I'll deny it up and down to your face, because I loves me some African eye patches. Of course they look like air filters for an Oldsmobile Delta 88, but who really cares, We're in Africa!)



Now, if you're wondering what the previous statements have to do with anything......good luck with that. I'm actually a little overdosed on coffee, which helps to amplify my mutant ability, and also makes me poop a tad loosely; but enough about my stool....unless you're into talking about people's private pile, in which case I would like to expound on that subject with more detail and substance (so to speak) at a later date when we have more time on our hands, because frankly it's gonna be a long conversation. So what if I like to talk about my poop? Does that make me less appropriate then say.....a proctologist? At least I talk about my own and not some guy's that I just stuck my fingers in to find his Broke Back Mountain decoder ring. Tell you the truth, if I had that job I'd probably, maybe nine times out of ten, choose typing over handwriting because I'd constantly be getting poop all over my yellow lined paper; you know, that stuff you had to write gigantic letters on in the second grade right after you figured out what boogers taste like. They taste pretty good, but not as good as paste.........and I just remembered why I don't have a vote in the Senate..........nope, I lost it.



Anyway, If there's anything I learned from watching Saturday morning cartoons, it's definitely that prostitutes don't usually like to watch Saturday morning cartoons with you. Ah, the memories... That's actually the first time I had to pay four women, a parking meter, and a pond full of koi fish to watch TV with me. One hell of a weekend. I wish I could remember what I did with that tile cleaner....well, the other half.


Still....that blind African just keeps mumbling on an endless loop about butterflies in the sky.....and....I can't get him to stop.