Saturday, March 29, 2008
What's Out, What's In: A Clueless Guy's Guide to Pop Culture
Anyone who's read this blog knows I'm old and frighteningly out of touch with "what the kids like." Then why am I bothering to tell you what's in and what's out? Gotta write about something.

Out: Social worker
In: War profiteer
Dick "Gordon Gecko" Cheney says "The point is, ladies and gentleman, that bloodshed, for lack of a better word, is good. Bloodshed is right, bloodshed works. Bloodshed clarifies, cuts through, and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit."

Out: Shameless pilfering of Led Zeppelin riffs.
In: Shameless pilfering of World Music beats.
I'm looking at you, Vampire Weekend.

Out: Dress for success.
In: Dress to impress the barista at an independent coffee shop.
I like to play a little game called Homeless or Hipster? when I'm out and about. Try it sometime.

Out: Comfort food.
In: Raw vegan dishes that, through the use of sterilized tongs, have never been touched by human hands.
Look for The McBeet at your favorite fast food establishment.

Out: Recreational lesbianism.
In: Occupational dry humping.
Don't blame the maintenance man for giving you that impromptu lap dance. He's just a trend setter.

Out: Talent shows.
In: Shows in which people are brought before a live audience, stripped, and have their genitals mocked by porn stars.
Jenna Jameson: "Girl, you call that a pussy? It looks like the knothole on a hollow oak tree. I half expect Ernie Keebler to crawl out with a pack of Pecan Sandies."
Ron Jeremy: "Nice dick...for a chipmunk."

Out: A group of teenagers are challenged to a dance contest and make it their life's mission to overcome all obstacles and win.
In: The teenagers have better things to do with their time.
Sample dialogue: "You've just been served!"
"Good for you, Fred Fucking Astaire. I don't have time for this shit."

Out: Empty-headed flag waving.
In: Empty-headed flag waving and macho posturing.

Out: Blogs written by me.
In: Blogs written by everyone else.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

I was thinking today that having to drive to work is kind of like being forced to dig your own grave; or having to carve your own coffin out of a single piece of wood.

Really, I have to sit in traffic to get to someplace that sucks? Fuck that.

In these dark times, I turn to the winged horse Pegasus. My people are working on a deal in which I can ride Pegasus to and from work every day. I plan on feeding him lots of chili so he'll shit all over the poor fuckers stuck in gridlock on Hurstbourne Lane.

Am I losing my mind? Clearly.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008
I stole this from ScarBrooke, who posted this last week sometime. It's a movie quote meme.

Here are the rules I must follow:

* Pick 15 of your favorite movies.

* Go to IMDB and find a quote from each movie.
* Post them on your blog for everyone to guess.
* Fill in the film title once it’s been guessed.

These are your rules:

* Leave your guesses in the comments.
* No Googling or using IMDB search functions. Don’t cheat!
*Know-it-alls, limit your guesses to three movies. Save some for others!

-"I know you have received orders from our commandant, which he has received from his superiors, to dispose of the population of this camp. Now would be the time to do it. Here they are; they're all here. This is your opportunity. Or, you could leave, and return to your families as men instead of murderers." (From Schindler's List, guessed by Sheila)

-"It's for sure a white man's world in America. Look here: I raised that boy since he was the size of a piss-ant. And I'll say right now, he never learned to read and write. No, sir. Had no brains at all. Was stuffed with rice pudding between th' ears. Shortchanged by the Lord, and dumb as a jackass. Look at him now! Yes, sir, all you've gotta be is white in America, to get whatever you want." (From Being There, guessed by John)

-"Edwina's insides were a rocky place where my seed could find no purchase." (From Raising Arizona, guessed by Tits McGee)

-"Fucking dipshit with a nine-toed woman." (From The Big Lebowski, guessed by Nick)

-"Hey, listen, I want somebody good - and I mean very good - to plant that gun. I don't want my brother coming out of that toilet with just his dick in his hands, alright?" (From The Godfather, guessed by Tracey)

-"Medium? Why sir, did you know that for a mere 25 cents more you can purchase a large beverage? And you know... I'm only telling you this because we're such good friends: Medium is really only for suckers who don't know the concept of value." (From Ghost World, guessed by mshellion)

-"If you were to try to assassination a king, sir, the... how shall I say it? The aura of royalty would cause you to miss. But, the president... [chuckles]...I mean, why not shoot the president?" (From Unforgiven, guessed by Nick)

-"Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Theresa?" (From Heathers, guessed by Sara)

-"Tito Puente's gonna be dead, and you're gonna say, 'Oh, I've been listening to him for years, and I think he's fabulous.'" (From Stripes, guessed by Brooke)

-"For us to live any other way was nuts. Uh, to us, those goody-good people who worked shitty jobs for bum paychecks and took the subway to work every day, and worried about their bills, were dead. I mean they were suckers. They had no balls. If we wanted something we just took it. If anyone complained twice they got hit so bad, believe me, they never complained again." (From Goodfellas, guessed by Doola)

-"What's your encore? Do you, like, anally rape my mother while pouring sugar in my gas tank?" (From Clerks, guessed by Doola)

-"You fake a stomach cramp, and when you're bent over, moaning and wailing, you lick your palms. It's a little childish and stupid, but then, so is high school." (From Ferris Bueller's Day Off, guessed by Sara)

-"There was this kid I grew up with; he was younger than me. Sorta looked up to me, you know. We did our first work together, worked our way out of the street. Things were good, we made the most of it. During Prohibition, we ran molasses into Canada... made a fortune, your father, too. As much as anyone, I loved him and trusted him. Later on he had an idea to build a city out of a desert stop-over for GI's on the way to the West Coast. That kid's name was Moe Greene, and the city he invented was Las Vegas. This was a great man, a man of vision and guts. And there isn't even a plaque, or a signpost or a statue of him in that town! Someone put a bullet through his eye. No one knows who gave the order. When I heard it, I wasn't angry; I knew Moe, I knew he was head-strong, talking loud, saying stupid things. So when he turned up dead, I let it go. And I said to myself, this is the business we've chosen; I didn't ask who gave the order, because it had nothing to do with business!" (From Godfather Part 2, guessed by Brooke)

-"Our government has apologized for Bryan Adams on several occasions!" (From South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut, guessed by Katrocket)

-"You see, this profession is filled to the brim with unrealistic motherfuckers. Motherfuckers who thought their ass would age like wine. If you mean it turns to vinegar, it does. If you mean it gets better with age, it don't." (From Pulp Fiction, guessed by Jazzbonejoe)

Saturday, March 22, 2008
The Return of Shovel Justice

This is what I got when I did a Google Image Search for Shovel Justice. Apparently it's a groundbreaking ceremony for a Hall of Justice somewhere. What's with some of the people having to share a shovel? They need to break ground on a decent hardware store.

What was this supposed to be about? Oh yeah...Shovel Justice, the idea that some people need to be hit in the face with a shovel.

Here are a few subjects I think are deserving of Shovel Justice:

People Who Blame Barack Obama for the Crazy Shit His Pastor Says
I know a guy, let's call him "Steve". The priest at his church had sex with young boys. Is this "Steve's" fault? No. Next distraction, please.

Jack Johnson
Who is Jack Johnson, you ask? The next time you're at Kroger/Safeway/Publix/Von's/Ralph's and hear a song over the PA that sounds like someone trying to sing while chewing aluminum foil and being double-nostril fucked, that's Jack Johnson.

Dane Cook
Predictable, yes; but the last time I did Shovel Justice Dane was only totally sucking on a regional level.

Dumb Future Millionaires
A heavily-recruited high school quarterback called a news conference yesterday and announced "I have selected the University of Ohio State." Seriously. No, really. I saw it on ESPN. I think his second choice was the "University of Boston College". Some of you may not have known that the school is called Ohio State University, but I'll forgive you because they haven't been recruiting you for six months.

Renee Zellweger
Fine, it already LOOKS like she was hit in the face with a shovel, but the question remains: How does she keep getting work? In major movies. With actors and actresses who have talent and appeal. It boggles, people.

That Creditreport.Com Douche
I already blogged about the shitty commercial featuring the guy complaining via song about his wife's bad credit, but now they've made two other ads starring this ass and his lousy band. In these spots he's working at Long John Silver's and driving a severely damaged Geo Metro. Yes, because he didn't use, he was forced to go to a used car lot and purchase a wrecked car. That was his only option. Well, that and suicide.

There are so many other folks who need Shovel Justice. Please place your nominees via comments.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Is there a Life Coach in the house?
Recently, because I'm obviously some sort of a masochist, I took a random "Are You Happy With Your Life" quiz. First of all, who needs a quiz to tell if they're unhappy with their life? If you're unhappy, you know it. I wonder how many happy people were made unhappy by the results of this stupid fucking quiz?

As for me, I'm not at all satisfied with my job. That's a major issue, but it certainly doesn't define my life. Also, I'd like to be in a good relationship. Note the word "good" in the last sentence.

Back to the quiz, I was deducted major points for not being a career man with a loving wife and 2.5 adorable children. Also, they asked a question about drinking that implied it to be a lonely, isolating activity. The vast majority of my alcohol consumption is of a social nature. When I'm drinking, I'm surrounded by friends and/or women who take their clothes off professionally. It's a happy occasion, for god's sake.

Needless to say, I failed the quiz; and it was suggested I hire a Life Coach to help me find my way. Are you fucking kidding me? What a load of pseudo-intellectual horse shit. I have an idea what a Life Coach would say to me:

"You're unhappy with your job, so I suggest you get one that pays well, requires absolutely no skill and involves no real work whatsoever. In other words, become a Life Coach. That will be ten thousand dollars, please."

There's really a job out there called Life Coach? Really? God damn it, this is why "liberal" is a dirty word in some circles. I need to resurrect Shovel Justice and introduce the business end of a shovel to the grills of every Life Coach in North America.

In closing, here is some FREE advice that all of us can use. I'm not a Life Coach, as this advice is FREE:

-If your job sucks AND pays you like you're in this country illegally, find another one.

-If you take a drug that hillbillies make in their bathtubs, stop taking it.

-Don't fuck someone who has open sores on their genitals.

-If you can't afford to take care of one child, don't have four.

-If you have the urge to hurt or have sex with a child, you must kill yourself.

-This isn't 1991....No one is impressed that you have a cell phone.

There are more, but if I was the ambitious type I wouldn't have such a lousy job.

Sunday, March 16, 2008
A Day in the Life of Hitler's Personal Assistant, Gunther
Today we're going back to 1940s Germany to take a look at Hitler's personal assistant, Gunther.

Hitler: "Gunther, cancel my 2pm. I'm swamped."

Gunther: "Yes sir, Mr. Hitler."

Hitler: "And confirm my 7pm dinner with Herman Goering. Jesus, that portly fucking Kraut can eat! (pauses) How does my moustache look, Gunther?"

Gunther: "Oh, fantastic, sir."


Gunther: "Yes, it's very square, sir."

Hitler: "Good. My last barber, I had to have him killed because of his moustache trimming shortcomings."

Gunther: "Yes, sir, I know. Joseph was my neighbor."

Hitler: "Gunther, are you suggesting I was wrong to have him killed?"

Gunther: "Oh, no sir! Even though he was a loving and devoted husband and father, he was a barbarian with those scissors and deserved to die."

Hitler: "That's the spirit. Oh, and Gunther, why does my new secretary have brown eyes?"

Gunther: "Mrs. Jennings? She was the best qualified applicant. She has solid references, a professional resume, and she can type 120 words-per-minute."

Hitler: "Oh, why didn't you say so? That's some impressive typing...NOW TAKE THIS LUGER, SHOOT THAT BITCH IN THE HEAD AND GET ME A BLUE-EYED SECRETARY!!!"

Gunther: "Yes sir."

Hitler: "And send her family a fruit basket. Write a nice note and sign my name."

Gunther: "That's very generous, sir."

Hitler: "Did I say 'fruit basket'? I meant 'death squad'."

I couldn't think of a good way to end this, so if it makes you feel better, just assume that Gunther warned the secretary to gather her family and leave town. If you want the family to fly to safety on a winged unicorn, knock yourself out.

Friday, March 14, 2008
Oh Politics, You Dirty Slut-Bitch!
This morning, as I paid $3.49 a gallon for gas, I said a silent prayer that George Bush, Dick Cheney, and their oil cronies one day taste Satan's lava-jizz as they burn in Hell forever. Is that too harsh? Didn't think so.

A lot of people are excited about this year's election. Frankly, I'm not one of these people. In fact, I'm tired of it already. Let's get this Democratic nomination thing over with and just have the election in June. It'll be nice and sunny across the country and the voter turnout will be high. Then we can throw Bush out by late August/early September. Here's to a Bush-free Labor Day!

Back to reality, I just can't muster the hatred for McCain that I feel for Bush. Yes, he has abandoned a lot of his beliefs, but that's what happens when you run for president. The unwavering candidates never make it to Super Tuesday.

Why do I hate Bush oh so much more than McCain? Maybe I think of John McCain getting sharpened bamboo shoved up his ass by the Viet Cong while George Bush drank Shiner Bock out of a Corporal's butt crack in some bogus Sons of Rich Texans National Guard unit.

Keep in mind that I want the eventual Dem nominee to be elected president, but there's no way a McCain presidency would be as bad as what we have now. Really, there's no fucking way it could be as bad.

Ok, there's one way: John McCain selects Nicole Ritchie as his running mate. As soon as he's inagurated he suffers a debilitating stroke and Nicole becomes president. Then it has a chance to be as horrible.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008
A Day in the Life of Catherine the Great's Lover, Wayne
Let's travel back to 18th Century Russia for a look at the life of Wayne, a lover of Catherine the Great.

Catherine the Great: "Frankly Wayne, I find you unsatisfying as a sex partner."

Wayne: " fuck horses."

Catherine: "And?"

Wayne: "And how am I supposed to compete with a giant horse cock?"

Catherine: "Oh, it isn't your size, it's your lack of technique. Size doesn't matter to me."

Wayne: "Then why do you fuck horses? If size doesn't matter to you, why do you accept equine dick? For the stimulating conversation?"

Catherine: "This subject has become tiresome. If you aren't even going to try to equal the sexual prowess of Oatsfarts, my beloved stallion, then I have no use for you."

(Two palace guards proceed to take Wayne to the guillotine)

Wayne: "I'll see you in hell, horse fucker!"

Sunday, March 09, 2008
It's Snowing Douche! Hallelujah!

It snowed constantly from noon Friday until noon Saturday, and once again our town was woefully unprepared for an event everyone knew was coming a week prior. Someone in charge of clearing the roads should spend a winter month in Chicago and see what they do, and then implement it here (on a smaller scale, obviously). Or build a retractable dome over the city. The retractable dome and the underground moving sidewalk from my residence to the Bardstown Road bar district should be our community's top two priorities.

We weren't that busy at work Friday night since it was, in the immortal words of Willard Scott, "snowing like a fucking cocksucker," but those who risked their lives to buy alcohol were the kind of people who would risk their lives to buy alcohol. In other words, helpless addicts and complete douchebags.

I knew the asshelmet having the beyond cliched LOUD CELL PHONE CONVERSATION was going to be annoying, but I underestimated his omnijackassity. While he was screaming at the unfortunate soul on the other end of the line, he gestured wildly with his free hand and knocked a bottle of wine off the counter. Without even fucking acknowledging his clumsiness, he continued his conversation while walking off to replace the bottle. No "I'm sorry" or "Oops, my bad" or better still "Please instantly make society better by ending my life. I'm a typical self-centered asshole who treats people like shit because my penis is invisible to the human eye. I drive a truck that gets three miles to the gallon. I've never once created a pleasant moment for another human being and am therefore worthless." Nothing.

Unfortunately, our store doesn't have a "You Break It, You Buy It" policy, so I couldn't throw him out. I did sarcastically spit out "Hey, don't worry. We'll take care of that" but because it wasn't a sentence pertaining to the betterment of his life he didn't pay attention.

As if that wasn't enough the next person in line, instead of using one or two of her human senses to realize there was a spill in front of her, just walked right through the puddle of wine and broken glass.

"Ma'am, would you mind stepping over to the next lane so we can attend to this spill?" I asked nicely.

She gave me the stunned look of a dairy cow. There was nothing behind her eyes but visions of downing the pint of cheap vodka she held in her hand.

"Ok, you can wade waste-deep through the spill for all I care, " I said as I walked away wanting to punch someone.

As the woman made wine tracks out the door, I went to sit down for a minute. The one-two counter punch of douchebaggery and stupidity almost stopped my heart, and I sat there a defeated man. There were still two and a half hours to go and Wine Walks Woman would probably be back before we closed, since she was only three or four hobo-handies away from being able to afford another pint.

Suddenly, the phone rang. It was our District Manager with a reprieve: Due to the near-blizzard conditions we were closing early! Yes! Better still, as the people already in the store finalized their purchases, it was my job to stand by the front door and tell people we were closed. Sweet merciful God I love doing that. I said "Sorry, we're closed" but I meant "Haha, you risked your life and the lives of others by driving through a blizzard, and it was all for NOTHING!"

As I was getting ready to close the door behind the last customers of the night, this GIRL WHO GETS ALL OF HER CLOTHES AT HOLLISTER jumped out of a car and asked, with the upward inflection of the truly moronic, "Why are you closing?" She said this while standing hamstring-deep in snow. Flakes were accumulating on top of her empty head.

"I don't know...The weather?" I said before slamming the door shut and locking it.

As the blizzard continued through the night I was thinking I'd be able to get out of my Saturday morning shift. Instead, the store manager came to get me in her SUV. Son of a bitch.

Friday, March 07, 2008
Casinos and Spite
The new Governor of Kentucky (the HHIC, or Head Hillbilly in Charge) wants to allow casino gambling in this state. I wasn't all that excited about having a casino in Louisville, because I know it won't be as cool as this. That casino/resort was just a few miles from my home in Henderson, Nevada. If they aren't going to build something that good, why bother?

However, I've changed my mind and now want casino gambling in Kentucky. Why? To piss off the god damn self-appointed moral guardians who oppose it. The bible-thumpin' mountain folk are all up in arms, worried that someone somewhere might experience a moment of joy.

Annoying interlopers from all over the state infested the capitol yesterday to protest the evils of gambling. Well, not horse racing or the lottery; they're both sanctioned by God, but that's another story. But casinos, to these people, are dens of iniquity patronized by city folk and/or *gasp* minorities.

The front page of yesterday's newspaper showed two protesters, a couple of Church Lady types from Middlesboro, Kentucky. Middlesboro? Are you fucking kidding me? Ladies, there won't be any casinos built in Middlesboro, so take the horse and buggy back home and shut your fucking man-pleasers. They aren't going to tear down the General Store to build a casino there. I'm pretty sure the statue of native son Lee Majors is safe from the wrecking ball.

Yes, from now on all of my political beliefs will be based on spite.

Tuesday, March 04, 2008
A Day in the Life of My Childhood Friend's Racist Dad, Circa 1979
(Photo Not Available)

Backstory: I've mentioned before my childhood friend's racist dad. He used to call me "(n word)-lover" as a term of endearment. Seriously. "Merry Christmas, (n word)-lover. Come over and have some eggnog."

He also had a collection of racist country music on 8-track tape. Hey, stop poking your own eyes out with a dry read it right. And not subtle country music racism as perfected recently by Toby Keith; but horrible, blatant KKK-hate-boner-giving racism. This was WAY before the internet, so he actually had to go out in public to obtain these recordings. I have no proof, but I'm guessing flea market.

Friend's Racist Dad: "I need some country music, preferably on 8-track tape."

Flea Market Guy: "Yep, 8-track is here to stay. So, do you want good country music, like Johnny Cash and Hank Williams, Sr? Or do you want complete and utter shit?"

Friend's Racist Dad: "Oh, I want tossed-off shit warbled by inbred half-wits. And make it racist."

Flea Market Guy: "Subtle code word racist or Hitler wet dream racist?"

Friend's Racist Dad: "I want this racism to burn a cross on Hitler's racism's front lawn."

Flea Market Guy: "Ok, but it'll cost ya."

Friend's Racist Dad: "Why make money if you can't spend it on the things that make you happy?"

Sunday, March 02, 2008
A Day in the Life of Chad, the Alltel Wireless Guy

Let's take a glimpse into the life of Chad, the Alltel Wireless guy.

Chad arrives right on time for his day shift at Alltel. He parks in the designated employee area and makes his way through the strip-mall parking lot.

Chad, to himself: "Jesus, this sun is searing my near-albino flesh. I left my spf 3000 at home."

Suddenly, the four guys who work for competing cell phone companies appear seemingly out of nowhere.

T-Mobile Guy: "Hey, faggot, why don't you sell a phone to the burly lumberjack who fucks you up the ass?"

Chad: "Son of a fuck, will you assholes leave me alone? I'm just trying to go to my shitty job."

Sprint Guy: "Your mother sells her mouth for a nickel, Chad."

AT&T Guy: "Yeah, your mom has the throat clap."

Chad: "Shut the fuck up!"

Verizon Guy: "I hear you use hobo spunk as hair gel, Chad."

Sprint Guy: "And your aunt is one of Osama Bin Laden's wives."

Chad finally makes it into the safe confines of his workplace. He immediately finds the manager on duty.

Chad: "Isn't there anything you can do about the four fucking psychopaths who follow me around the city making my very existence a living hell?"

Manager: "Well, Chad, relentless harassment outside of the workplace is all part of being on the Alltel team."

Chad: "And now they're going after my family. They pelted my parent's house with jugs of rancid Miracle Whip. The Verizon Guy gave my underage sister a titty-twister. They dug up my grandfather's grave and used his skull as a fondue pot."

Manager: "I'm writing in my notebook 'Chad is not a team player.'"

Chad: "I make $8.00 an hour."

Manager: "And you'll never get a raise with that attitude."