Everything Used to Suck Monster Balls,
1 Aprand now it completely kicks ass in comparison.
For instance: geopolitical affairs. Yes, we got wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Paul Kony going all crazy witch doctor and giving a bunch of kids guns that they don’t know which end the bullet comes out. Well, when I was a kid, there was a place called the fucking USSR that had thousands upon thousands of multimegaton nuclear warheads pointed at your house and the entire world lived under the threat of total annihilation via thermonuclear war. It wasn’t gonna be a clean death, either. You would get directly incinerated by a nuclear blast if you were lucky, otherwise you would just have half your face blistered off and then suffer from accelerated cancer that turned you into a bubonic mutant. And your very genes would be mangled, so that you had no hope of repopulating the earth. Your children and your children’s children would be hideous flipper-limbed sentient tumors, and the water would be poisoned for ten thousand years and the sky would be full of lethal clouds fifteen miles thick and every food crop would wither and die and if they didn’t you wouldn’t want to eat them anyway because they would be full of cancerous poison. And you would have dreams about it, as a kid– about once a week you would dream that there was global thermonuclear holocaust and you survived somehow but your parents were dead and the water was poisoned. Because you’d turn on the TV and Ronald Reagan would be talking some hardass smack about how dangerous Russia was and we were gonna fight ’em and not roll over and that would sink into your head and all your dreams were about the end of the world, when you were eight years old. What do kids have nightmares about now, 9/11? Maybe kids in New York can get away with that shit, but we all know nothing is going to happen to you in Indiana. 9/11 isn’t shit. Your real nightmare should be that no one even cares enough about you to bomb you. What are we afraid of now– Israel vs. Iran? Who cares. Continue reading
Old News: Occupy LA
30 MarOriginally Posted 10/15/11:
Thinking about going down to Occupy LA today. Not that I give a shit. Or rather, not that I think it is a meaningful movement with any concrete goals. And if they did have concrete goals, they would be impossible to achieve.
Not that I’m against them either—while the “I am the 99 per cent” people complaining about student loans seem dopey to me, far worse is this “I am the 53 per cent (of legitimate income tax payers)” canard; the people holding up signs that say I bootstrapped my way to the bottom attending a state school while working 30 hours a week at a minimum wage job and never having an instant of freedom, now I will buy a shitty house in Phoenix and have kids who will also have to work 30 hours a week getting yelled at by some undereducated jerkoff because they didn’t adequately mop down the little channel between the beef and chicken grills at Arby’s — congratulations, you’re a fucking idiot. I wasted my youth grinding myself down to the bone in the most debasing manner possible and now I insist that people with billions of dollars be able to contribute nothing, is what you’re saying.
Women of OKCupid:
29 MarWhy are you all so god damn fucking boring?
There are about 3 profiles of single women in the greater Los Angeles area that reveal ANYTHING about the person whatsoever. The rest, you are browsing this shit and you feel like God only made 5 people.
There’s the I was born in Wisconsin, went to school in Pennsylvania, came out to LA three years ago and haven’t looked back! The geography person. Who the fuck– we all live in America, we all watch the same TV shows, why the fuck do you think it matters one iota what state you came from. Unless it’s some weird shit like Alaska or Wyoming, this is genuinely the most meaningless information in the world. Even if you came from one of those places. I’m not looking to get a state drunk and rawdog them; I want to do that to a person.
There’s the “contradiction” person. This might be the blandest one of all. I initially appear really shy and introverted, but once you get to know me I’m the life of the party! (This one often enjoys exclamation points). I’m a traditional girl at heart, but I think outside the box! I’m a girly girl, but I love sports! I can be really nice and really mean! I love reading books but I also enjoy trashy reality TV– shhh, don’t tell anyone! Jesus– these fake examples I’m coming up with are actually more illuminating than the real thing. This one is a deliberate construct that is designed to tell you nothing. Continue reading
OKCupid: Hey Fuckstick, How About YOU Make ME Laugh
29 MarBecause we all know you like to be made to laugh; you’ve told us, over and over and over again. Collectively you have said “live laugh love” or “make me laugh” a thousand million billion times. Or you’ve put up the whorish-sounding “make me laugh and you can make me do anything.” Make me laugh and you can sneak it in my ass, is that what this means? Make me laugh and you can jerk off in my mouth while watching porn? Make me laugh and I will fuck guys off craigslist and bring you back the money? I mean, I shouldn’t complain about this– I am not a professional comedian, but I consider myself funny. And girls do in fact “do anything,” although the “anything” that I’m asking for is just to fuck me in the most vanilla manner imaginable. I don’t require that they cook me a meal or take me on a date or engage me intellectually or anything, and they certainly haven’t offered. Make me laugh and you can make me do anything. That pretty much spells it out– you bring the personality, I’ll bring the pussy.
As a Miserable Human Being,
28 Marthe concept of “hope” is still possible, but it’s hope in the negative. Hope that something doesn’t happen, such as a car accident or sickness or someone you love having a car accident or sickness. Hope that the toilet doesn’t break. Hope that you don’t lose your job, even though you hate it. Hope that that thing on your dick doesn’t turn out to be what you fear it might be. Or if you’re a chick, hope that the guy you slept with after six glasses of inexpensive pinot noir didn’t fire that first drop inside you and that instead the reason your period is four days late because of some vitamin deficiency. Like, it would have happened on time if you had eaten more spinach or chicken is what it is, not that you are now carrying the seed of a guy with visible pores in his nose and why does he keep such long stubble even though his beard is grossly sparse and patchy, and his hideous long nipple hairs… Hope that you didn’t leave the stove on, as you suddenly and vividly suspect you might have at 9:15AM in the office and you are going to be at work until 7 and that greasy pot holder was laying close enough to the burner you boil your coffee on that the air will be so hot that the potholder will certainly catch flame; you picture your cat trapped screaming in the smoking house roasting alive and the upstairs neighbors horribly disfigured, skin grafts from their thighs giving their faces that weird newtlike appearance for the rest of their lives because you left the fucking stove on… hope that that doesn’t happen. That’s what hope is.
I Don’t Want
27 Marto go out with you. I want to just fuck you. But I don’t want to fuck the kind of girl who just fucks you. And I don’t want to go out with the kind of girl who just goes out with you. I want to fuck the kind of girl who goes out with you, and go out with the kind of girl who just fucks you.
Hepatitis C
26 MarOnce you get desensitized to constant STD hysteria, there’s a new one. This time a girl wouldn’t fuck me because she was scared of Hepatitis C. Another silent killer that you don’t know you have, except Steven Tyler has it and look at him now. Pamela Anderson has it and look at her now. Well shit dude—I don’t want to look like Steven Tyler, but if I spent two decades smoking freebase rocks the size of basketballs and my dick hadn’t spent more than ten minutes outside of some MTV watching slag since the 70’s, I would count myself LUCKY to look like Steven Tyler, i.e. ambulatory and breathing. But this Hep C is the new one; the new silent killer. Can’t scare ’em with AIDS anymore so we better tell the kids they’ll look like Steven Tyler. Or worse, they’ll write songs like Steven Tyler.
Or they trot out syphilis, like it’s 1532 and we’ve been fucking cave bears. Or they point out that Chlamydia sneaks up on you and goes untreated and ravages your ovaries and you’ll die alone a childless spinster. These things have been around, you know—these are things that a 1942 sailor would laugh off after a quick shot of penicillin. These are things they made funny posters about in World War 2—she may LOOK clean, private, but Rosie’s got a surprise. And dudes fucked Rosie anyway and then their dick hurt and they got a shot and it was over. And they laughed about it. Which is what you SHOULD do about STD’s. Continue reading
Diff’rent Strokin’ Some Underage Cock
25 MarI was thinking about when Arnold on DIFF’RENT STROKES was almost molested by a guy because the dude had an Atari and offered Arnold a bike. Even though Arnold lived in a gilded cradle of indescribable wealth. It goes to show you what a jerkoff Mr. Drummond was– he could have spared Arnold the very real possibility of getting buttfucked by an old fat guy by merely spending a pittance on some basic creature comforts that millions and millions of kids had, and they didn’t turn out to be slackers or fuckups. But because the guy had an Atari and a bike that Mr. Drummond had prickishly withheld, Arnold almost got fucked in the ass. And for poor Dudley, there was no “almost.” Dudley was deeply penetrated over and over and over again by an aging bear’s veiny, grey-pubed beef stick. Which experience Dudley had to replicate over and over and over again at 3am in some dank abandoned public park, seeking out white-haired “tops” of the approximate build as his initial rapist sitting idling in vans, well into adulthood. Probably.
New Book
delicioustacos 