This weekend was an interesting one for me. I learned a few things, which isn’t necessarily odd, but the things I usually learn on the weekends are more along the lines of what the underside of the tables at McGinty’s Pub look like, or that cops don’t like it when you call them “shitheels” in public. But yesterday, for instance, I learned that I have the ability to alter the outcome of a Super Bowl and that I am going to become filthy rich as a result. Continue reading

The building I work in is located next to a resort, which is kind of cool because it looks nice and it’s a fairly tranquil place. Or at least it used to be. It’s primarily a conference resort, which means that during the week you have a lot of staid businessmen walking around, and in the summer it’s virtually abandoned since no one with more than two functioning brain cells wants to go to a conference in Phoenix in August. The disadvantage of this, of course, is that in terms of making money, this strategy blows porcupines. So they added a water park some years back, and that’s when everything started getting a little crazy. Continue reading

I found myself nauseated in the grocery store today. Normally if I feel nauseated in the grocery store, it’s because I’m in the potted meat aisle. There is something inherently wrong with potted meat, and if the lack of refrigeration and sci-fi-like expiration dates (“Best before 2112!”) don’t put you off, the contents should. A friend of mine once lost his fucking mind and tried Vienna Sausage, an experience he likened to eating pig dicks soaked in vomit, which in my mind is an insult to both pig dicks and vomit, because Vienna Sausages are fucking rank. Continue reading

I’ve got a couple of young boys, 8 and 6, and so of course a large part of their life revolves around video games. They are crazy about videogames, and often I find myself giving them the old, “When I was your age” lecture, telling them how when I was a young boy, I played outside, and read books, and did all kinds of other things that didn’t involve dropping virtual tactical nukes on virtual villages, blowing tiny little virtual people into virtual Kingdom Come. But as I’m telling them this and rounding them up to head outside, I see what they’re playing and I think to myself, “Shit, if video games looked like that when I was a kid, I would never have left the couch.” Because they look AWESOME, and beautiful, and lifelike, and they’re everything I dreamed about when I played video games as a child because what I played looked like someone vomited on a computer and then smashed it with a pipe-wrench. Continue reading

I’ve got a lot of things to write about tonight, but try as I might, I cannot find a common thread to link them all together. And you know what? I don’t fucking care. Narratives are for fucking pussies or people that write books, and even then they aren’t worth shit half the time. What was the narrative behind Twilight, for instance? Vampires are cool? That’s bullshit. I almost wish that vampires were real just so all of the fucking retards who liked Twilight would get the chance to walk in on a real life vampire converting their grandma into a dry, withered husk, or more accurately, a drier, more withered husk. Continue reading

It has come to my attention recently that many of my readers have either forgotten, or just did not know that I am a Man of God, which explains the general lack of groveling and tithing around here. Well, I am here to tell you that just because I became an ordained minister on a lark does not mean that I take my spiritual duties lightly. Why, just the other day, I damned some asshole straight to hell for cutting me off in traffic. I don’t fuck around, something you should consider when determining whether your 10% tithe is based on your gross or net income. Continue reading

After people get to know me a little bit, one of the most common questions I am asked is, “How did you get into my apartment again, and why are there high definition cameras installed in my panty drawer?” No, wait, I was thinking of the other question: “Where do you run into all these weird characters you’re always talking about?” I’ve got a lot of stories, and it seems that more than a few of them involve people who are kind of odd ducks, so I guess that it makes sense that people wonder if I’ve been hanging out by the local sanitarium, or maybe I just like to spritz people with liquid LSD to make them a little more interesting. The answer, of course, is a little bit of both. Continue reading

Ladies, I know that your lives can be difficult sometimes. Sometimes you find yourself walking in the woods alone, or frolicking with children, totally devoid of purpose because you are Without Your Man. But that doesn’t mean that you should sit on the couch, scarfing down bon-bons like Oprah on Easter morning. Don’t you want to have a good shape? He wants you with a good shape, goddammit. Stop porking the fuck out, and think of your man, for chrissakes! Otherwise, you’re not going to stick in his mind, and then what happens? Well, I’ll tell you what happens: One day you’ll walk in to find him elbow deep in your sister, that is what will happen, you fat, selfish pig. But don’t take my word for it. Listen to your good friends at the Coca-Cola corporation:

I pulled up to a red light the other day and the car next to me had the windows down and was absolutely blasting music. The guy sitting in the driver’s seat was rocking the fuck out, drumming his hands on the steering wheel, banging his head, and generally enjoying himself some goddamn RAWK. Nothing wrong with that, except that he was listening to Billy Joel. Yeah. You go, you fucking wild man. I’ll be honest with you, if he had reached down, picked a scab off of his taint and eaten it, it would not have lowered my opinion of him at that moment in time. Not in the slightest. Dude, Billy Joel?!? Continue reading

My first experience with head shops came when I was 18 years old, a recently graduated high school student who was working hard over the summer to save up money for college. Or at least that’s what I told my parents I was saving the money for. In reality, more than a little of that money was set aside for something that I considered to be more important, namely beer and weed. (If that isn’t classic 18 year old thinking, I don’t know what is. What’s even funnier is that we allow 18 year olds to vote. How Bob Marley was never elected President is one of life’s enduring mysteries.) Continue reading