is going to be the name of my child, if I happen to conceive one today.
Penisworkmoneychickenxbox Jones. Because those are the things I’m thinking about.
Also, it’s an ancient Hebrew name.
Archive | 2012
Someone Copypasted My OKCupid Profile
24 Aug(Note: this post is old; the guy took “his” profile down. Thus, no link.)
I was gonna give him the “Brilliant Profile” award, but I don’t want to blow his game. In fact, nobody send him a message about it or anything. I don’t want to tip him off. I posted about this on reddit too so I’m sure he’s getting a million visitors. A million scruffy dudes from the East Coast and Canada between the ages of nineteen and twenty five, is who uses reddit apparently. But don’t tip him off. Continue reading
Old Dads’ Shriveled Five-headed Sperm Makes Their Kids Autistic and Crazy
22 AugAt least, according to this.
I knew it. I knew it couldn’t be this easy. Whenever I talked about how my kids are going to have severe mental impairments because I’m so old, everyone would reassuringly jump in with “no, the father’s age doesn’t matter blah blah blah.” Well no. My elderly mutant nutcrust is going to create a race of paranoid dwarves who think the refrigerator is their mother. Mine in particular, as I’ve spent my whole life smoking, drinking and doing hard drugs, which I’m sure only accelerates the random mutations that addle your sperm as you age.
Or maybe not. Maybe most diagnoses of autism are actually bullshit, and maybe aging parents are precisely the type of well-off white people who bring their kids to the doctor and the psychiatrist and the neurologist at the slightest sign of anything, and are the types of people who have the money to pay for the egregiously expensive treatments that do absolutely nothing for autism, or “autism spectrum disorders.” Maybe it’s a whole bullshit industry for people desperate for something to be wrong with their kids. Mass hysteria meets Munchausen by Proxy. Meets the type of doctor who rich folks go to, who is never gonna tell you “chill out; it’s probably nothing.” Just like the type of dentist that rich folks go to can always find something wrong; every kid in the rich part of town always has braces. Continue reading
How to Not Kill Yourself
20 AugTony Scott killed himself. Tony Scott made a bunch of awesome movies that kicked ass, lived the A list Hollywood life in the 80’s where he presumably did tons of blow with Don Simpson, made millions and millions of dollars, lived in a nice house, had nice cars, and not one single piece of pussy on the entire face of planet Earth was off limits to him. Late into his life he was still an A list director, the hardest job to get besides President of the United States, and a place in life that thousands upon thousands of people struggle and fail to get to and almost nobody is able to sustain for so many decades. He produced TV shows that will continually crank out sums of money so vast that no one could ever spend it, forever. He worked for his whole life with his brother. Most of us can’t stay that close with our families and wish we could. He jumped off a bridge.* Continue reading
She Left Me a Message
16 AugSaying she would have called me back, but she’d been cellphoneless all day. Cellphoneless getting pounded by huge unprotected cock from the love of her life.
I Have a Dream
15 AugEvery four months or so I’ll have a dream that I can suck my own dick. I’ll be—you know in dreams, sometimes you just appear in a situation—I’ll be there with my dick in my mouth, thinking “holy shit! It’s not a dream this time! I can really suck my own dick!” Continue reading
Tippy the Thirsty Squirrel
14 AugIf I didn’t have to fuck, I would move to Montana. Get a cabin; get some acreage. Out there you can own a pond. Maybe; I have no fucking idea. But I’m pretty sure you can get a place on a fuckton of land with a breathtaking view of snow capped mountains and possibly a creek running through it where you can flyfish, if you’re into flyfishing. Huge meadows, maybe lightly forested, that bloom in the spring with tiny delicate wildflowers. Songbirds massing on trees to pick berries in the fall; stopping through on their way to Panama. Elk. Deer. Wolves maybe. Bears. Maybe one nosy and mischievous bear with whom you are constantly in an arms race as he finds more and more fiendishly clever ways to get into your garbage and you find more and more Rube Goldbergian ways to keep him out, and you secretly respect and take delight in such an adversary until one day he mauls your dog and you have to just shoot him. Then he becomes an awesome rug for your hearth. His face snarling in the firelight, even though in life he just looked a bit curious and dumb like a gas station attendant who hasn’t done math in fifteen years trying to figure out a piece of long division. Continue reading
New Book
delicioustacos 