Friday, July 29, 2011

Biggest Upset in World Tournament History: #16 Seed Al Queda Knocks off #1 Seed America

Who could have seen this one coming? Most powerful, explosive team in the entire world beaten in the tournament by a group of Islamic fundamentalist weirdos with nothing more than disposable Stanley knives. In my nightmares I imagined nuclear missiles fired by a rogue former Soviet state or hordes of Chinese breaking against our shores would spell the end for America's reign as #1 in the world. Vegas didn't even have odds on it being some delusional 33 year old virgins coming out of the Maine regional bracket. But guess what, they said "We goan shock da world!", and they fucking backed it up. It could have been the greatest moment of their season for one of the greatest teams in world history. The Koran Krew comes out firing in the opening minutes and a shell-shocked American team has their backs up against the wall, cleaning up debris and trying to figure out how these nobodies managed to launch such a barrage of destruction and teamwork, on their home court no less. They could have countered and proved to the world once and for all that this American dynasty was here to stay. That even when confronted with a perfect game plan executed even more perfectly by a group of savvy never-beens, America plays it's game in response and crushes the competition. Unfortunately for all of us more moderate Americans who believe in "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness", rather than those who believe in indiscriminate murder of civilians, America panicked and allowed evil people bent on destruction to take over the game. Al Queda had a very lucky break in this respect. And when opportunity meets preparation, the successful teams take advantage. In this instance they happened to meet up in the tournament with an American team that had an incompetent coach in G.W. Bush.  All the talent in the world at his disposal, but no concept of how to use it.  Instead of calling a timeout and regrouping, and letting his all-star squad establish their dominance and methodically destroy this rag-tag squad from the Mountain East Conference with superior skills and perfect game-planning, Coach Bush let his rogue bench coaches start using up all the sweet-assed fast break alley-oop and off-the-backboard slam dunk plays they'd been drawing up in their spare time.  They'd been awaiting the moment when someone would come out firing--and hitting--to confuse the American fans long enough for them to empty their entire arsenal of razzle-dazzle horseshit into a game and turn it into a complete shit-show.  And boy did they get it.  By the time the 4th quarter rolled around the entire American team was tired as hell and frankly sick of running up and down the court.

The implications of this one shocking upset have reverberated through the sport for a full decade now.  After pissing off everyone in the sport and finally his own fans, Coach Bush retired.  All the while still stubbornly maintaining that "If given the chance I'd do it the same way all over again".  The new coaching staff inherited a program in complete turmoil.  Head coach Obama seems to be a solid X's and O's guy, and gives some of the best half-time speeches this side of old Coach Kennedy back in the 60's.  But thus far his actual game management has produced very few results and no big wins to date.  The entire program is on the verge of fiscal insolvency and instead of getting off their overpaid fucking asses and rebuilding the program back into the dominance it is so very capable of producing, instead the coaching staff, the dean, the president of the university, the athletic director, everyfuckingone, is just yelling at each other about meaningless shit and trying to prove the guy on the other side of the table is a bigger asshole than themselves.  Completely ignoring the fact that they have the biggest talent pool and greatest fans in the entire fucking world.  Instead of using that talent and igniting the rabid fan base again, they fight like little 14 year old girls over which slut sucked so-and-so senior's dick in the school parking lot and who is wearing last season's jeans.  And unfortunately, the less intelligent segment of the fan base is lulled into complacency by sweet alley-oops and continue to buy just enough tickets to keep the coaches and administrators in place.

All the while the Chinese team continues to inch closer to becoming the new dynasty in the sport.  And no one fucking wants that.  Their players all look the same, the squad has no personality, and they treat their players and fans like shit.  Amazing that all of this fallout came from just one fluke game played nearly 10 years ago.  The good news is that the program can be rebuilt.  However, we need to cease and desist immediately with the fucking Mix Tape Tour bullshit, hire some ruthless mutherfucker like Gene Hackman or Bobby Knight to take over the team, and get back to the basic ball-handling, passing, and precision play-running that got us to the unanimous #1 overall seed we enjoyed back in 2001.  Don't misread my own loyalties; I am a rabid U.S. fan.  But this current team is virtually impossible to root for.  

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Jacoby Ellsbury is Hot

And I don't just mean he is incredibly good looking.  He is also tearing the cover off the fucking baseball, swiping bags, and doing his best Dyson impersonation out in center field.  But mostly he is just a smokin' hot dude.  What, you wouldn't bang Jacoby Ellsbury?  Yes, even the dudes.  C'mon, are you too fuckin' cool to bang Jacoby Ellsbury?  Seriously, what is the worst that could happen?  Are you too afraid of falling in love with a budding young superstar who also happens to be straight-up dreamy?  You know that once you gaze into those eyes, it is over for you.  The guy is a real-deal fucking Navajo goddamnit!  What more do you want, an Inuit?  All I'm saying is that everyone needs to get off their fucking asses and hop on the Jacoby Ellsbury bandwagon.  Look for me, I'll be the guy right up front holding the "Jacoby, Will You Marry Me?" sign high and proud.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

I'm Home with my 4 Month Old Daughter for the Next 10 Days....

.....Who wants to fucking party?!?!?!?!?!?!?!  You name the bar/patio/balcony/kegger/biker-speed-bash/LSD freak-out/concert/pool-party/BBQ/high school graduation rager.....and I'll be there with fucking bells on!  Oh, and also with a small baby strapped to my chest by Swedish engineering.  Hope that is cool.  And the baby needs to eat every 3 hours, so I'm going to need to stick some breast milk in your fridge.  And do you have a bottle warmer already?  If not, totally cool, I'll bring mine.  Once I feed her, burp her, and we get her to sleep on a make-shift bed with pillow-fences, LET'S GET FUCKED UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  See you soon brahs.......

Why Does Society Treat the Handifat like they are Actually Disabled?

I'm so sick of this shit.  I for one am not treating these people with kid's gloves any longer.  If you've eaten yourself into a lack of mobility, then fuck you, get out of the way and ideally quit breathing valuable oxygen.  I'd say quit drinking valuable water, but the Handifat don't drink water, unless you are including the water used to make XL Diet Cokes they are so fond of.  You know, the giant Diet Coke that is somehow going to erase the Biggie Size Big Mac Extra Value Meal you just crushed?  Why are people giving these selfish assholes the right of way, opening things for them, letting them go first, helping them in any way?  I don't see anyone helping crack heads out with anything.  "Oh, I'm so sorry you smoke so much crack.  You poor thing, let me help you with that door."  No, people treat crack heads like they have 1st degree leprosy and aggressive B.O.  But why would you treat the Handifat any differently?  They more than likely DO have B.O.  And at least I understand crack, it actually gets you HIGH.  Eating too much makes you feel like shit.  But because they have so little self control we are supposed to carry on as though they deserve our pity, respect and assistance?  Bullshit.  You deserve our indifference, possibly our scorn.  What triggered this diatribe?  Well, #1 I'm a dick.  It is that simple, I'm an asshole.  Guilty as charged.  #2 is the loathsome bitch that takes the same bus home with me nearly every day.  She has eaten her way to such success that she can barely walk anymore and has to move around with some sort of walker type device.  She isn't old, she isn't handicapped.  She is Handifat sure as your Sister Susan.  Really though, that is okay, live and let live, I never say.  But it is her absolutely fucking belligerent miserable cunt attitude that is so unacceptable.  Because she has the air of real, tangible disability, some poor new sap each and every day tries to be nice and let her walk onto the bus first.  Poor bastards!  Those of us who ride with this wretch daily know you are in for a tongue lashing when you try to be polite: "No! You go ahead, they are gonna have to lower it anyway!".  As she blubbers this chastisement she waves her pork fat arms to and fro in most alarming fashion and has the face of a sinister wraith.  To clarify, when she says "They are gonna have to lower it anyway!", she means that the driver is going to have to lower the bus and deploy the ramp, due to the fact she cannot separate her tree trunk legs more than 1cm from the pavement.  So once this poor individual has been made to feel like shit for trying to be polite to this salty bitch and boards the bus, the rest of us follow.  And she stands and watches.  Check that, she doesn't watch, she glares.  The most menacing glare she can muster, with head shaking in constant disapproval of us all.  Her tormentors.  We who have not disabled ourselves through gluttony.  And when we've all boarded, it is time for the bus driver to get a taste of her fat aggression.  It does not matter if the driver does or does not know what she wants.  It does not matter if the driver has already started to deploy the ramp before the last mobile rider has paid.  No matter what this driver does, Cunthilda is going to cast her evil countenance at them with hurricane force and yell, "You have to lower it!"  As she slithers aboard she flashes one last mean-spirited glance in the driver's  direction before shaking her head in disgust and waddling toward two seats.  Did the bus driver tether you against your will on a daily basis and force-feed you for years, ala Kevin Spacey in the movie 7even?  No, they are doing their job and you are cattle.  This is not their fault.  And once she inevitably eats her way onto a Rascal, watch the fuck out, because she's going to be an even more insufferable twat.  I am friends with a guy who is legitimately disabled.  And if he could, he would get up and slap the donut out of your Handifat mouth. 

In summation, could we organize a mass Handifat drive (e.g. cattle drive) to herd them and their Rascals into their natural habit; West Virginia?  I will gladly ride my bicycle along the periphery of the herd, cracking a whip to knock the Cheetos from their engorged hands, all the way back to Huntington and beyond.       

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Is This the Worst Picture of All Time?

You will never in a million years believe what I'm about to write, after viewing this Tijuana coat-hanger abortion of a picture: This guy used to RUN SHIT.  I'm talking "The Natural".  This cat walks onto a Top-40 rap dance floor and dudes are running for cover and bitches have smoke coming out of their ears, circa 1999-2007.  His legend spanned multiple states and across generations.  He never tested positive for a single PED.  We're talking first-ballot, unanimous Playazzz Hall of Famer.  In 2004 he could have walked into any cheesy dance bar in Ohio, screamed "King Kong ain't got nothin' on me!", and the sea of bodies would have parted to allow him to take his rightful place at the head of the table for Biggie Smalls "Big Poppa".  And now he's come to this lowly, pitiful point.  I couldn't look this happy about that strawberry coming at my mouth if you paid me 1 million dollars.  Major difference here being that he paid money to be in this disaster.  It would be like Kevin Costner paying $5MM to star in Water World.  But this is what happens when you are a man and you lose Stonewall Jackson to gangrene because one of your own drunk hillbilly soldiers mistakes him for a runaway white slave dressed in a Confederate generals uniform, and shoots him....the defenses are weak and love breaks through the line and circles around, trapping your soldiers in a helpless crossfire, and they are offering no mercy.  Do not kid yourself in any way, this photo is an absolute bloodbath.  He is Hiroshima and she is the Enola Gay.  She is the '85 Bears and he is the Patriots.  This is the United States obliterating Iraq with "Shock and Awe" as their army makes no attempt to defend themselves.  His corner threw in the white towel, and she kicked it right back at them and kept throwing uppercuts.  She is goose-stepping into his Paris under the Nazi flag and singing the Horst Wessel Song from the fucking mountain tops.  Offering no compromise, obviously.  Only unconditional surrender to her will.  You eat this fucking strawberry I feed you, you will smile widely like a mental patient whilst I feed it to you, and you will not utter one fucking peep as I put this on the goddamned World Wide Web for all to see.  She put this on the wedding website, and he couldn't even muster the courage to call us all and warn us this was about to happen, and offer apologies and excuses in advance.  Just tried to go about his business at the wedding and do shots and dance and pretend like we all somehow un-saw it in the interim.  This crushing defeat cast a pall over the entire event.  It was a dead man walkin' on a green mile.  Michael Bolton saw this picture, spit his white wine spritzer all over the computer screen and yelled, "What a fucking pussy!"  Listen, every great one experiences a decline in their skills, and must ultimately retire.  It's how you go out which defines your legacy.  This is the anti-Jim Brown.  This is the polar opposite of Ted Williams hitting a home run in his final at bat.  This is Brett Favre's 7th unretirement.  This is an overweight Michael Jordan getting double crossed over by Allen Iverson.  Adrian is fucking screaming at Rocky to throw in the towel as Drago is about to deliver the death blow to Apollo, and Balboa is just sitting there catatonic.  A thousand years from now an anthropologist will unearth this image from the rubble that was Al Gore's Internet.  The scientists and the scholars will study it.  And they will write in their history books, "Their society was primitive.  They used ancient communication devices called computers (cum-pew-turz).  There was a great war.  When the female tribe had vanquished the male tribe, their ruler lorded over the defeated king and she forced him to eat fruit from her hand.  This was how the ancients showed submission to their superiors.  Much like a dog rolls onto it's back and shows it's genitals."  Sure, take this photo now, and you'll live.  At least a while.  And dying in your bed, many years from now, would you be willing to trade ALL the days, from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell her that she may take your life, but she'll never take...YOUR FREEDOM!!!  

Monday, July 25, 2011

Amy Winehouse is Dead. I Never Saw it Coming.

Nooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I don't want to live anymore!!!!!!!  She was so full of life, how can she be dead?  I just don't get it, she looked fantastic!  Why, why goddamnit, do they always take the good ones?????  It isn't fair, it just isn't fucking fair.  Why couldn't it have been Bono or some other musician who is out being a destructive force in the world and clearly not taking care of themselves?  Instead it is poor Amy Winehouse who selflessly gave of herself and refused anything in return?  She watched her weight religiously and only smoked crack out of sterilized pipes for Christ's sake.  She obviously took great pride in her appearance, and was very thankful for the natural gift of melodious voice she was blessed with.  And God had to go and strike her down tragically in her prime like the vindictive cunt he is.  Why?!?!?!?!  I do not want to live in a world where a truly good and decent human being can't show up late to concerts and when she does show up she is so fucked to the eyeballs on 4 different intoxicants that she can't remember her own lyrics and gets booed off the stage by the thousands who spent their hard-earned money on the tickets and smokes all day and drinks like a fish and snorts tons of coke and smokes copious amounts of crack and shoots smack and disrespects everyone in her life and then cooks up the speed ball of all speed balls and overdoses....where that person is violently ripped away from us at a young age with her whole life of getting fucked up and not caring about anyone but herself in front of her.  I don't want to live in that world for one more fucking minute. 

This bitch won awards for a song where the chorus went: "They wanna make me go to rehab, and I said no, no, no".  And guess what, she didn't go to fucking rehab.  She talked the talk and she walked the walk.  If you don't respect that, you are an asshole.  She didn't pussyfoot around and say she was clean, then relapse, then clean, then court date, then rehab, and all that annoying shit.  She just put the pedal to the metal and drove the bus right off the fucking cliff.  She committed to something and saw it through to the bitter end.  That is grown man shit where I'm from, son.  Hey, smack and crack aren't really my bag (if I saw a speed ball I'd probably drop into the fetal position in the corner and piss my pants whilst sucking my thumb and crying while the bikers fought over who got to beat me up first), but who am I to tell you it can't be your thing?  And if it is your thing, be the best at it.  And if doing it so awesome that you die isn't the best, then what the fuck is?  You think Joe Paterno is going to be called "tragic" or a "failure" when he collapses on the sideline and dies during a game?  Hell no.  So I say rock on Amy, you fucking won. 

Friday, July 22, 2011

Why Would You EVER Hire a Fat Personal Trainer?

I've never understood this phenomenon.  It reared its ugly head yesterday at the gym, as I was forced to listen to some obese asshole chastise and "coach" some old man through a pathetic work out which would not have produced sweat if it was conducted on the 50 yard line of Death Valley.  Why would you ever listen to that you might ask?  Why not just crank up your iPod volume and ignore it?  I'll tell you why: I am currently on my 4th iPod Shuffle, and those devices are utter pieces of shit.  Not a single goddamn one of them has made it to year 2.  You can set your watch to those mutherfuckers breaking 2 hours after the warranty has expired.  If there is some currently unbeknownst to me conspiracy theory regarding Apple programming them to break the day after the warranty expires, then consider me as "Liking It" on Facebook, or whatever it is the kids do these days.  I personally don't Facebook (and by "I don't Facebook" I mean "I've hit the refresh button on the News Feed 14 times during the scripting of this paragraph), I'm above such shenanigans.  But back to Porky McPorkroast and the poor uninspired social security recipient he was condescending to.  The old timer was in 10 times better shape than the trainer, who needed to lose 75 pounds (and I'm being very generous here).  Why would you choo-choo-choose this asshole?  "Excuse me sir, who would you like to assist you shopping for a new wardrobe today?"  "Hmmm, I think I'll choose the guy with the hair plugs, wearing the No Fear t-shirt tucked into acid washed jean shorts and Teva sandals with black dress socks.  He seems to know his trade."  And an even bigger question might be, why is the East Bank Club (totally name-dropping the fact I've joined a hoity-toity gym so I could play "rich guy" for a few hours a week before I go back to my "poor guy" reality) employing fat ass trainers?  If you are going to make a career out of fitness, shouldn't you maybe look the part or live the lifestyle?  Deciding on a career in fitness when you hate working out and love mayonnaise is like choosing a career as a symphony conductor when you hate Beethoven and love RATT.  No one is going to believe in you.  

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Another Lovely Day Here in Dubai

105 degrees today with 1,000% humidity.  Gorgeous!  Watch out for that sandstorm around midday, wouldn't want sand in your melted ice cream.  Perfect day for nothing.  Scorching hazy sun reflecting off the Persian Gulf cooking your brain right inside your fucking head, like soldiers in Vietnam when we made them wear those steel helmets that heated like a skillet to enhance their experience.  Oh, that isn't the Persian Gulf?  I suppose it is Lake Michigan.  But are we really going to split hairs here?  What is the difference between Lake Michigan and the Persian Gulf right now, other than some U.S. Navy warships cruising around some off-shore rigs protecting Saudi oil interests on our collective tax dime?  Not a fucking thing.  I'm pretty sure that if you wander down to Oak Street Beach today there will be at least a few dipshits in burkas.

One of the positives of a heat wave is that it does a little spring-cleaning of the drug-addicted vagrants.  Their old sweat pants, moon boots, stained parka and woolen cap don't seem to be what the doctor ordered when the mercury shoots for the sun.  But of course I'm kidding(ish), I don't want people to die of heat stroke.  Driving home from Midway airport last night I did see a rather sane-looking chap bent over at the waist with hands on knees, in the absolute dead fucking center of Cicero Ave.  He was shirtless and looking a bit, um, "wild".  He has the right idea.  No better way to beat the heat than to have a Tahoe ram you in the ass at 50mph.  Off to the air-conditioned hospital for you to suck on ice chips.  If anyone sees me shirtless, bobbing and weaving in the middle of Division Street today, you'll know the score.

Not my best effort on this post.  A bit disjointed, marginally funny.  What the fuck do you want?  Not really thinking straight this week.  My body was built for hunting, gathering and warfare on forested plains in northern Europe.  It certainly wasn't meant to scurry up fruit trees in Equatorial Guinea.  Whatever, fuck off.  

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Chicago Weather Forecast:

Today's Forecast: It is going to be fucking hot today, with a chance of swamp ass.  Wednesday: Hotter than a freshly-raped fox in a forest fire*.  Sport-wipe necessary when you finally get to your office, as swamp-ass is guaranteed.  Thursday: Hotter than a nun's cunt in the African Marathon.  Pack an additional outfit to change into at the office because Thursday's swamp ass laughs maniacally at your sport wipe.  Friday: Who fucking gives a shit anyway?  Chicago's weather is the biggest bullshit in China.  All extremes, all the time.  Never pleasant and comfortable more than a day at a time.  And what really gives me a red ass is the fact that due to these extremes, the weather dick always gets to say "We've had an average _____________ ".  Yeah, because 4 99's and 26 57's statistically average out to a "Normal" June.  Fuck you Skilling.  As soon as someone calls me on the phone out of the blue and offers me a high paying job in San Diego-despite the fact I've never even looked for a job there-I'll move so fast your mom's head will spin.  What I do have is some random floater Coors Lights in the fridge at home.  If I just merely open one, will that frosty cool train barrel through my condo?  Or do I have to actually acquire some paint and draw a tunnel or other access point for the train first?  I'm unsure of proper protocol. 

*My first ever "real job" after college was at an old-timey publishing company in Boston.  This phrase landed me right in the HR office for some reeducation.  I was a total fish out of water in that job.  Freshly out of state school in Ohio where anything goes, I land in a very prim and proper publishing firm with a ton of private/boarding/girl's school types.  Not a great mix.  Don't get me wrong, many of these people were quite to very cool, and I am friends with several to this day.  However, there were many who wouldn't know a good time or a joke if either walked up and took a shit right on their face.  So I'm in this tiny little office "collating" (which means you are NOT a very important person at the company, given this job is now done by copying machines) a shitload of documents with others in my position level, and a slew of temps.  No circulation in there, and we are shagging ass trying to get ready for the national sales meeting.  Without thinking twice, I drop "It's hotter than a freshly raped fox in a forest fire in here".  Record screeches to a halt.  Crickets chirping.  Tumbleweed blew by.  A look from this one private school chick like I'd just been arrested for kiddie porn or something (and I know it was her that dropped the dime on me, I'll swear that to my grave).  Boom, day later and I'm in the HR office being grilled like I just quit my job, sold my house, grew a long beard, started wearing a long robe and moved to Dearborn, Michigan.  My boy Ron (who was a cool guy, just doing his job) starts up with the "So Zachary, tell me in what context you think rape is funny?" and "Do you condone rape?".  I mean shit, I've heard that phrase a half dozen times while working on a roofing job during the summer in central Ohio.  Nobody said bully to anyone uttering that phrase on the roof, so why is it any different at a stodgy publishing firm in the heart of the pretentious Northeast?  Bullshit in my opinion.  No Ron, I don't condone raping people.  However, I do think the idea of a somehow raped fox (by whom or why? that is part of the awesomeness) racing wildly about in the midst of a forest fire is pretty goddamned funny.  Well, I learned that day what is funny on a roof in the Midwest is not necessarily funny at Simmons or Smith College in Boston, MA.  And now I know, and knowing is half the battle. 

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Holy Shit I'm an Idiot!

Scroll down two blogs, the one about the Kaylee Anthony vigil weirdos.  The bitch holding the fucking sign in the middle with the bad-fucking-ass Jesus t-shirt.....she spelled murder wrong: "MUDER".  Fucking Mew-der.  I didn't even notice.  Had that pic up for yonks writing about it, didn't even notice this window-licker can't spell murder correctly.  Hey slut, watch The Shining on your laptop that the taxpayers fund for you, then hold it up to the mirror you snort meth off of, when Danny goes postal and spells "REDRUM" on the wall in lipstick.  A fucking deranged 7 year old can spell murder correctly, backwards.  What is your fucking excuse you sorry excuse for a white trash welfare recipient?  Just absolutely horrible, embarrassing, unprofessional journalism on my part.  I'm writing this from the corner right now, wearing a dunce cap.

If You're Important and You Know it, Honk Your Horn

Are you driving the speed limit you worthless fucking hick?  HONK!  Are you actually stopping at a Stop sign retard?  HONK!  That light has been green for .000002 seconds, why haven't you laid a patch of rubber and shot off the line like John Force yet you son-of-a-bitching asshole?  HONK HONK HONK!!!  I don't have time for you pieces of hillbilly Wisconsin country-fried shit.  I AM A FUCKING IMPORTANT PERSON!  Where I am going is so astronomically more important than where you are going, that I should have a goddamned missile launcher attached to the hood of my car to blast useless tits such as yourself off the fucking road.  I am going to a fucking showing, do you know what that is moron?  I. Am. A. Real. Estate. Agent.  That is important.  You are taking your kid to a doctor's appointment.  Not important.  This condo hasn't sold in 2 1/2 years and the couple looking at it have a credit score of 400.  Guess what muchacho?  I need to fucking get there 5 minutes ago.  So take your piece of shit Prius and drive it into the fucking Chicago River because I don't have time or the patience to wait for you make a goddamned right turn.  Why are you waiting for those pedestrians???  Fucking run them over!  HONK HONK!!  In case you haven't figured it out yet dipshit, I'm driving a fucking Land Rover.  That means my life is worth shittons more than yours.  It says it right across the front: "Land Rover = Get The Fuck Off The Road".  I need this thing, how else would people know I'm important, besides the honking?  It snows twice yearly, there are no unpaved roads, and the terrain is flatter than a 9 year old obviously I need a fucking car designed to navigate swamps in the Amazon Basin.  If you had led your local real estate office in condo sales in 2005 you'd fucking understand why I financed this baby 8 years out and have 70K in revolving credit card debt to finance the payments because I've sold 6 condos in the 6 years since.  But instead you slowly but steadily increased your income over time and bought queer-assed used cars that can't even chase down baboons in the Niger Delta.  That is why where I'm going matters, and where you are going is fucking Nowheresville you diseased rhinoceros pizzle.  This is how it works, since your Honda Accord so loudly bespeaks your lack of comprehension skills: Traffic is in my way.  I honk the fucking horn and you see my lobster-red straining neck muscled face stretching towards the window shield and my mouth forming the scream "Fuck you asshole!"  You, and everyone else in front of me, quickly turns to the left or right and makes a tunnel for me to drive through unimpeded.  For your effort I flip you off or give you the both hands up "What the fuck?" as I fly past with house music pumping out of the bitchin' stereo system I also financed.  This is how it is supposed to work when you honk the horn aggressively.  You obviously wouldn't know with your pussy-assed both-hands-on-the-wheel technique, but driving an SUV, drinking a Starbucks, talking on my cell phone, honking my horn AND flipping you off all simultaneously isn't that fucking easy to pull off.  Everyone needs to get it through their thick skulls.  Your automobile, your health, your baby, pedestrians, strollers, bicyclists, mail men, none of these things are as important as where I'm going right now.  Do you think this unnatural orange tan maintains itself mutherfucker?  No, I have a tanning bed appointment in 30 seconds and you are letting an old couple out of a parking lot in front of you.  Jesus Christ, nobody fucking gets it!  This thing gets 12mpg in the city asshole.  I'm keeping the war in Iraq going all by my fucking self.  HONK HONK!!  Wait, why the fuck are you getting out of your car and approaching me?  Oh shit, you want to kick my ass.  Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit.  Quit it dude, I have absolutely no ability to defend myself outside of the context of this Land Rover and my horn.  Fuck, I'm out of here.  HONK HONK!!  Get out of my way asshole, I need to get away from this dick who is trying to kick my ass for honking the horn at him because I'm an impatient self-absorbed asshole.  HONNNNKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Monday, July 11, 2011

Important Announcement to all People Who Picketed or Held Vigil Outside the Casey Anthony Trial:

Just fucking kill yourself.  That is all.  You bring nothing to the table.  Did you take time off work for this?  What were you hoping to accomplish?  The judge to look out the window and say, "Well, these hillbilly morons apparently think we've done this all wrong.  Retire to your respective offices and do it all over again, we'll retry this whore in 2 weeks".  The creepy-assed Jesus'y types are the ones that scare me the most.  It is like creepy assed Jesus'y people don't need jobs or income.  Who supports them?  Does Jesus do a direct-deposit into their bank accounts each month or something (and yes, it is a HUGE stretch to imagine these people have bank accounts)?  Like this chick on the left with the black t-shirt.  I'm pretty certain that is Hey-Zeus on the print, inside the fiery abyss.  What the fuck does she do all day?  Wait for the public interest story du jour to whip into a froth and then show up with some shitty hand-scrawled sign with a barely literate message and some exclamation points?  Who is paying for that sweet-ride t-shirt and arm band tattoo?  Actually I know the answer to that question.  When Jesus is no longer willing to play sugar daddy for these losers, we the taxpayer fund this stupidity.  What was I thinking?  This bitch has been on public assistance since the day after Kurt Cobain killed himself, and she hasn't been off it since.  If you were standing outside this courtroom, or were in a church in the vicinity holding vigil for poor little Kaylee, then you need to go home and take a cold, hard look in the mirror and consider what you are doing with your life.  If you like what you see and think you are doing God's work by loitering in public outside of events that have no effect whatever on your own personal life, then let's do everyone a favor and affix a bed sheet to your neck, loop the other end around the blades on the nearest ceiling fan, and flick the switch on the wall to "ON".  Other than one cameraman for NBC who will look into the crowd and say "Where is that crazy fat bitch with the Garfield sweat shirt that always holds the sign that says 'The Rain is Kaylee's Tears from Heaven' today?", no one is going to miss you.  In fact I'm willing to assume you won't be discovered until the landlord shows up in 3 months to ask where the rent is, and he smells something.   

And even more importantly, if you are at home on a computer and you are writing about how big of losers the people are who are there picketing and holding vigil.....then you are fucking awesome and bitches DIG you.  Proceed with no caution and continue spending your time writing something that 20 people read.  You ARE doing God's work.  He told me (actually God is a she, how else can you explain Oprah being a billionaire?). 

Thursday, July 7, 2011

The Scout Chronicles: Summer is Ruining Barbecues Season!

What up Asshats?  The ol' Scoutmeister is changing his tune on Summer in Chicago.  Years past (and I can only recall 2 thus far, though my ability to comprehend passage of time is limited to nonexistent) I would get all aggravated and frustrated with the heat.  In case you can't tell, and if you can't tell you're an asshole, the Scouter has a thick mane.  Upside is that bitches swoon over this shit.  You should have been on my St. Patrick's Day walk.  I could fucking see the tears and wistful look on dad's face as ho after drunken, slutty HO made a huge fuss over me and my Hollywood hair.  Hey dad, smart move waiting to get Scout after you were already married.  But coming from the same guy that still tries to take my bone out of my mouth even though I've bitten him like infinity times for it, I'm not surprised.  I told these chicks, "Listen bitches, those commercial dogs get made over for hours.  But I look like this straight out of fucking bed every day."  That is totally what I said to them, even though it looked like I was just licking their faces and trying to "shake" despite them never asking me to shake.  But Scout digresses.  Right around Summer Solstice time (and fuck you, I know what the Summer Solstice is.  For whatever reason I'm compelled each and every Summer Solstice to take a 1/2 dump in the same spot, walk three full circles and one semi-circle, then take the other 1/2 dump and salute the sun while emitting a low growl.  Don't ask me why, it just happens) mom and dad go planning this whole barbecue hullabaloo over at SHQ (Scout Headquarters).  Grandma was invited, which pumps the Scoutmeister right the fuck up.  Grandma has this awesome habit of bringing stuff to Scout in this animal hide carrying device she hangs from her shoulder.  For whatever reason, lately she's taken to only bringing something very occasionally.  I'm unsure how many more visits I'm going to accept that bullshit before she finds her animal hide carrying device covered in Scout's piss.  The other guest of honor was dad's high school buddy Jeff.  Jeff never brings me fuck all when he comes over, but I still think he's pretty cool.  First off he's big, and I like big people.  Never really psycho-analyzed why I like them, I just do.  And Jeff goes out on our balcony every 45 minutes or so to enjoy these white, cylindrical human treats that you have to set fire to one end before you begin eating them.  He lets me come out on the balcony while he does this because I'm fucking fascinated by these things.  Dad sets a plate of these massive raw meat discs he overpaid for at Whole Foods out on the counter and then we both go out on the balcony and light the grill (I'm totally awesome at lighting the grill, makes my whole day).  We come back inside, pound a brew, have a few laughs, typical barbecue shit from what I understand of them.  Now this is when mom and dad make a CRITICAL mistake.  Grandma and Jeff were talking and mom was in the bedroom with that miniature humanoid that apparently lives here full time now, yet brings absofuckinglutely nothing to the table, once again wasting all sorts of time bundling up its dump and cleaning it off since it apparently hasn't figured out how to scoot its ass across the lawn yet.  Dad then goes outside to check the temperature of the grill.  Custom is the Scouter does this task with dad.  However I knew that now was my time to strike.  I make straight for the counter, jump up on that fucker, and put the chomp to raw meat disc number 1.  We're talking no chewing, no victory barking, no sniffing around the bush.  Just raw meat getting crushed.  I took one look over the counter and see dad walking back in from the porch, yet he doesn't see the Scoutmesiter.  My window is closing but not yet shut.  I make a move for raw meat disc number 2.  I want to do this as discreetly as possible so I pick it up and fling it on the kitchen floor.  I'm trying to savor this one a bit, even had thoughts of washing it down with the Cabernet Sauvignon dad had poured into the decanter.  But I heard dad's loud-assed brutish footsteps (I prefer to prance noiselessly.  It is a total showoff move, but such is the poodle side of my lineage) approaching, so casting decorum aside I begin bolting this meat.  Dad rounds the corner just as I force the last gulp down.  He instantly goes into hilarious and pathetic antics, yelling "Scout NO!" even though the meat is already in my stomach.  He takes the plate containing the other two uneaten meat discs into the bedroom to show mom and the humanoid "....What that asshole Scout did!".  You're goddamn right Scout did it mutherfuckers!  And I'll do it again if you are stupid enough to leave me in that situation.  Look at it!  Scout did it!  Then dad's all like "Scout, get in your kennel!"  Fucking laughable mein!  Yeah dad, that is the last place I want to go: somewhere quiet where I can lay down and digest the entire fucking pound of raw meat I just ate.  Please oh please massa, not the kennel!  At this point Jeff and Dad have to race out of the condo to get more raw meat discs, shooting ol' Scouter menacing glares the whole time.  Only guess what these fucking geniuses do?  The entire time they are at Danger Dominick's buying Section 8 replacement meat, they leave the grill burning.  So they come back, throw the meat on, and when it is 1/4 cooked, the propane runs out.  I can't even make this shit up dude.  Now everyone is in a total panic, blaming me for the whole shootin' match.  And honestly, I don't give one half of one fuck at this point.  I'm in a world of hurt trying to digest this pould of beef.  Fucking food coma like no one's business.  I wanted nothing more than to yarmouth violently.  But I held it in like a man...couldn't give them the satisfaction of saying "I told you so!" as the Scoutster whistled beef all over the condo.  All in all I fucked this barbecue 6 ways to Sunday.  And even though I didn't shit right for a week, Scoutmeister isn't so bearish summertime anymore.  Give me a call anytime you're planning to grill, I'll happily come over and fuck up your cookout.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

I Love Mexicans

If you think that Mexicans should get the fuck out of your country, then you know what? I think you should get the fuck out of your country. Mexicans are out there harvesting the food you are cramming into your fat gullet while you watch Fox News, get pissed off about Mexicans, and gain weight. I attended the U2 concert at Soldier Field in Chicago last night. Great night, good show. Sure Bono is now playing a caricature of himself these days, but he still has high entertainment value. There were three Mexican people in my row, and they were loving the shit out of life. Put a smile on my face every time I looked at them. One guy made the same "Are you getting me a beer?" joke every time I walked past him to use the toilet or get a drink. In between songs he yelled "Helllllooooo Bono, my frrriend!" at the stage. His other mates danced and screamed broken lyrics at the top of their lungs during the particularly energetic songs. Just so happy to be there. It was the same vibe I got during a long run on the morning of July 3rd along the lake front. Mexican families everywhere just kicking the hell out of it. Setting up blankets and barbecues and lawn chairs and tents in the parks and on the beaches. Tank tops and smiles and Virgin Mary amulets everywhere. They didn't have much money and they didn't give a fuck. All they need is pollo on the grill, some corn tortillas, a few cervezas, a soccer ball, a lopsided generic volleyball net with tears in it, and they are fucking good to go for hours. Dudes pushing trundle carts full of frozen shit I've never even heard of. Made my miserable fucking sado-masochistic run tolerable to see how much joy these immigrants were carving out of nothing. And I know, "Half them fuckers ain't even legal!". Guess what, half your fucking drunk potato digging Irish ancestors weren't legal either. And Mayflower redneck xenophobic assholes just like you said they'd ruin the country. And look what happened. St. Patrick's Day kicks so much fucking ass I can't even tell you how much fucking ass it kicks. I don't have the words. Mexicans are out there working their tits off doing labor that fat lazy assed Americans don't want to do (I include myself in this group), while fat lazy Americans bitch about how they are "Takin' our fuckin' jobs!" (I do not include myself in this group). Sure, they have some problems with crime and alcoholism and obese welfare recipients, but tell me what ethnic group-Caucasians included-doesn't have these problems? From the limited interaction I've had with Mexican immigrants while working on construction crews, hanging out with friends who manage bars/restaurants, the dudes who work in the locker room at my gym, and the lawn crew at my building complex, I've found the following: They are, on average, a pretty fun and hard-working lot that enjoys smiling and loves to laugh. So guess what? If given a choice of hanging out with them in a hovel on the outskirts of town with roosters running around the yard, or at your house with Glenn Beck shouting in the background and you pissing and moaning about the country being stolen from you by the evil, conniving wetbacks, I'm drinking Tecates and throwing bones with the Mexicans any day of the week and thrice on Sunday. So all I'm saying, while rambling incoherently for a really long page space, is instead of bitching about the Mexicans you've never introduced yourself to, turn off the fucking Bill O'Reilly (hmmmm O'Reilly, where did your ancestors arrive from???) and download a Rosetta Stone Spanish edition and learn how to say hello to the neighbors who like it or not, are here.

Also, do your fucking homework. We stole half of Mexico in the 1800's, by hook and by crook. Sent our most rabidly anti-social, greedy fucking citizens down there to squat on their land and then pick a fight so we could rape and pillage the shit out of the northern half of their country. Where do you think "Don't Mess With Texas" comes from? Now they're back not with guns and an army, but a lawn mower and dish rag. Fucking deal with it.

I'm Huge in Slovenia

I'm going to be like fucking Hasselhoff in Japan or Germany. Fucking off the meat hook in Slovenia brah. Just crushing ass all over Slovenia. How do I know? I was checking the Stats on this blog (I just discovered this, after a full year+. No secret that I'm not the most net savvy kid on my block) and checked page views by country. 10 (yes, TEN) page views from Slovenia. BOOM! Let's say for the sake of argument that it was actually like 7 different people. I'm assuming one person has a slow modem because Slovenia is still in the 19th century and therefore accidentally clicked on the site 4 times before it loaded. But still, at 7 different Slovenians I'm at like 28% of the total population of the country following WhatSucksNow. If the Minister of Cultural Affairs wants to get in touch with me and fly me in (or pay for a European equivalency of a Greyhound bus ticket, and then have me picked up by a dude with an ox cart at the Slovenia bus depot) for a live show, I'm all ears. I'll even wear some sort of old timey pointed hat, because I think that is what you're into. I'm assuming everything over there looks exactly like this picture. So holla at me Slovenia, you've made it loud and clear that you want to be in the ZSG business.

If My 3 Month Old Daugther Doesn't Start Sleeping Through the Night Really Soon, She'd Best Be VERY WARY of any Family "Vacations" to Florida

Because guess what sweetie, you can kill the fuck out of your babies in Florida, and don't nobody care. As of now she isn't sleeping so long at night. And if I decide my lack of rest is really cramping my party style, I might be planning a trip to "Disney World". Only on this particular vacation, Disney World is a no-tell motel operating on cash only basis in a little-known corner of the Everglades, next to a very dark and remote swamp frequented by big assed chompin' gators. So you might want to start rethinking waking up twice every night. Just saying. Daddy will be out sweatily dry-humping Casey Anthony on a dance floor, laughing our asses off at the Florida judicial system.

Seriously dude, Not Guilty? OJ Simpson is tipping a 40oz to these defense attorneys as we speak. And by "tipping a 40oz", I mean "being forcibly sodomized by Latin Kings". Just tell me why the "accidentally drowned" corpse was duct taped on the mouth? Because that is what you do when someone you really care about dies accidentally. You put duct tape over the mouth of the corpse, then hide it somewhere. I understand if you are sick and tired of the kid fucking crying all the time. But in case you were asleep during the frog dissection lab in high school biology, let me clue you in on one very important fact: Corpses can't fucking talk. So you wasted a strip of perfectly good duct tape there. But hey, what the fuck do you want? You get 12 people together, all of whom aren't cerebral enough to figure out how to get out of jury duty, and all bets are off.

If/When Casey is sprung from jail, I would not want to be a penis anywhere in a 5 mile radius of that batshit broad. She is going to go on a drunken skenk streak that would make Lindsay Lohan blush. Mark my words.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Well New York, I Guess You can Add God to the Long List of People You've Pissed Off

You Godless, liberal, morons. You're basically France at this point. Some of the only people in the world who still liked you were Jesus and God. And you done gone and fucked that up too. Lettin' dudes marry dudes and chicks marry chicks, what are you thinking? It says right there in that oh so important book that this IS NOT allowed. You know the book. The one written by St. Paul and his homies to cash in on the memory of the charismatic Jesus after he was safely dead for 30 years so he couldn't read what they wrote and scream, "Fucking BULLSHIT! That never fucking happened!". It is crystal clear in THE BIBLE, you liberal fucktards, that being gay is WRONG. God was very clear about this point: He made all humans and loves them for what they are; unless what they are is a person who is chemically ever-so-slightly different than the statistical norm, and thus attracted to their own sex; in these cases he fucking hates the ever-living shit out of them and condemns them to hell for eternity. So, uh, New Fucking York, what exactly are you not understanding? Jesus taught us to love everyone, regardless of our differences. Unless those differences are homosexual in nature. Then fuck you. He clearly stated in NoLongerRelevant 19:36: "And I shall be quite cleareth regarding one fact...that if the aforementioned 'Good Samaritan' had encounteredeth a queer instead of his sworn enemy, then he haveth no choice but to picketh up a rock and smote this queer for his evil same-sex ways....and he shall encourageth others to join in his hate and stone this homosexual to the grave.....for I loveth all mankind, excepting of course for that sort of mankind." It is so goddamned clear New York, but you have your heads shoved so far up your smug, liberal asses, that you can't even read the fuckin' Bible for fear of having to put down your communist red New York Times. And so you do the unthinkable and allow two dudes named Bruce to legally join. And now you are fucked. Hordes of maniacal gays bent on destruction are going to sweep through your streets and hills and valleys, tearing apart good honest god-fearing straight families, torching their homes, and turning their kids gay by touching them on the head with their magic gay wands. You fuckin' asked for it, Mr. Smart Guy. And when God sends the fire and brimstone, or when the next natural disaster strikes New York and that asshole on the 700 Club points out it was because you legalized lesbian union, don't come crawling back to us sensible folk asking "WHY?".

PS--On a serious note....When I saw this story on the news the day of, I was really surprised. I had no idea anyone still gave a shit about this? Like there are states which still don't legally allow this? Are you fucking kidding me? How, in the name of God, does gay people marrying each other affect your life in any way, shape, or form? If you want to be grossed out or laugh like an 8th grader when you imagine the logistics of it, fine. But to actually go out and waste one minute of your life campaigning against it? How big of a fucking loser do you have to be? I mean clearly you've absofuckinglutely nothing to do with your day, or your life. What an awful existence to be pissed off about life happening normally, and not doing anything to bother you. Gay people have no more choice in their chemical makeup than do autistic kids. Why don't leave the anti-gay rally for a hot second and go scream at autistic kids as they leave their therapy sessions. Tell 'em they can't marry other autistic kids when they grow up. If you've spent 5 minutes of your life trying to stop gay marriage, then consider renting a UHaul, driving it to a pier, and pay a vagrant $100 to push it off the end of the pier right after you lock yourself in the back. Trust me, no one will fucking miss you. The most comical moment of the news report on the passage of this law in New York was an interview after the vote with a New York state senator. He was a black guy. He said, "So you're telling me a man is going to call another man husband, and a woman is going to call another woman wife? How is that going to work? I just feel bad for our children. They are going to have to grow up in a world where a man and woman getting married doesn't mean anything (shaking head with sad look on face)" Are you fucking kidding me you assclown??? Um, in case you didn't notice you are BLACK. How are you a state senator anyway? Do you want us to turn back the clock 50 years to a time when you couldn't have been a state senator, or even voted, because miserable ignorant fucksticks like yourself thought you were inferior due to your skin color? Someone should have walked up and shot that asshole directly in the face. So to everyone who is bent out of shape about this: Just go back to sucking at life quietly somewhere and leave everyone else alone. No one likes you anyway.

PSS--Big shout out to Iowa for being more progressive and modern than New York by beating them to the punch.