Tag Archives: bestiality

Autopilot

8 Feb

chicken pot pie

(This is a selection from my book Hot Naked Tits, which you can buy here.)

He was awake.  Hands on a steering wheel.  Trees rushing by.  Most cars were self-driving these days but he enjoyed it the old fashioned way.  Everything was coming back to him.  He was on his way home.  Emily was making a chicken pot pie.   His favorite.

The day was over and he remembered nothing.  The new stuff was perfect.  Used to be you’d get an image peeking through once in a while, an emotion of some kind.  The phone would ring and you’d get a little stab of fear.  You’d still have no idea what it was about, but you’d flinch.  Now, nothing.  Waking up, nice hot coffee, kissing Emily goodbye.  The drive to work; starlings swirling over the river.  Pull up to his parking space– it was in god damn Siberia, but, who cared; he would forget the walk.  Twist the dial in the crook of his elbow left, right, left again.  Then he was awake and driving and the sun had moved.  Ten hour shift gone by like it never happened. Continue reading →

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Ron Paul Gives Me One of Those Rock Hard Pulsating Erections with a Dewdrop of Precum on the Tip

30 Aug


Reposted from the comments section of my esteemed colleague’s post.

I was sitting in my house getting hammered last night and for some reason cued up some Ron Paul youtube videos. Or not “some reason–” I was thinking about politics, and I remembered how at Occupy LA the Ron Paul people were the only folks there with any kind of coherent idea of what the protest should be about. And they had the hottest chicks. “Who is this Ron Paul fellow,” I thought. “His acolytes acquit themselves shockingly well.”

Watching Ron Paul youtube clips felt like discovering porn clips of a crazy fetish you never knew you had. That first weird porn that gave you the fastest, hardest boner of all time, and forever rendered all the vanilla porn you had watched “meh” in retrospect. I’d watched other pols and occasionally felt like “mmm… that’s kind of true, I guess.” But every fucking thing out of Ron Paul’s mouth made me pump my fist in the air and say “fuck yeah” out loud. It was emotional. The profound joy of hearing and agreeing with truth, mixed with shock at hearing a politician in a major party debate speaking the truth. Like– “holy shit, I’m watching a politician, on the news, and he’s telling the truth about the way shit should be!” I would have been less surprised by Godzilla ripping into the building and eye-lazering Wolf Blitzer to a crisp on live TV. And I felt shame at being so surprised. That our society and politics are so fucked that this guy is considered nuts. Every fucking thing he said was obviously true and right– how is he being dismissed as a lunatic jerkoff. Not only by “the establishment” but by every person I know who basically feels the same way about politics as me. Look, I fucking hate Ayn Rand too, and believe me I thank the Lord every day for abortion, but– get fucking past it, people. The guy is eighty years old and from the kind of town where a sign says “N*gger, don’t let the sun set on you here.” You can forgive a couple rustic reactionary tics. Continue reading →

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Protected: But I Can’t Get Laid

3 Mar

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Diary: Going to a Party

7 Feb

This party.  Now I’m too tired to go to this fucking party.  Jesus.  Too fucking tired to do anything.  Woke up too early.  And spent the whole day alone and now I’m tired and weird.  And (REDACTED) isn’t going, and (REDACTED) is going to flake.  And no one  I know is going to be there.  And I can’t get drunk. Because I’m going to have to drive.  And it’s going to be lame.  And google maps doesn’t work on my fucking computer.

But fuck it, I’m going to go.  Maybe I’ll get some ass. This chick (REDACTED).  Even though she used to date Chris, I think she wants to fuck me.  Or, I think she wants to fuck people. And I am a person.

But who knows. Maybe she’ll just fuck Chris.  I bet she’s the only chick there, and the rest of it is a bunch of loser UCLA dudes.  I’ll make a long drive, spent and exhausted, and I’ll get a DUI.  I’ll get raped in jail, and I’ll get AIDS.  I’ll spread AIDS to my cat (through a scratch or something; I don’t fuck my cat.  Much.), and my cat will die.  And my dick will get cut off somehow.  Somehow my going to this party will result in nuclear annihilation for the rest of the planet.  That’s how bad this party is going to suck.  At this party, some cold I’m carrying will combine with some other virus someone else is carrying—but not an STD, because I am definitely not getting laid at this party– some virus I’m carrying will combine with tetanus I get when someone at this party drives a nail through my dick and it will create a supervirus that will kill the whole planet.  But especially the people I love; they will die first, in front of me.  And my car will get stolen. Continue reading →

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