Young Hitler Visits the Supermarket

Dearest Mother,

I was unfortunate to come across the scourge of the supermarket during my last visit to procure nourishment. I am officially declaring that I hate Juice. Juice really left a very bad taste in my mouth. Juice resorted to trickery. Juice promised you things like a Strawberry/Kiwi explosion in your mouth and all it tastes like is cold soup. Juice also hit you heavily in the wallet. For instance, $4.99 for a litre! I felt like Juice had held me by ankles, shaking the money out of my pockets. I've never felt more anger than what I feel for Juice. I believe Juice can tear this nation asunder if we do not put a stop to it. Cannot we simply round up all the Juice in the country and ship the dirty Juice somewhere else? I know that overweight people should drink Juice and not soda pop, so I say we send all the Juice to those facilities that the overweight visit to assist them in weight loss. I believe they are camps of some sort. Don't get me started about Concentrated Juice. What a rip-off!

Your boy,

Dolphy

PS: I hope to hear from that art school soon. The Rabbi was very impressed with my portfolio. So much so, he couldn't stop smiling! Huzzah!

Consumer Report

Nerdburger Invents Useless Crap

By: Johnny Technotronic

Mother's Basement (NY) - Local nerdburger, Jim Cohee, has spent a ridiculous amount of time and money on his new invention. The forty-three year old dorkus explains, "It seemed like every time I called a lady's cellular phone, she never picked up. On the rare chance I did get to talk to them, the woman would always tell me that she did not hear her phone ring. I presumed that it was due to the fact that ladies keep their phones in their purses and it muffles the sound of the ringer." The pathetic excuse droned on, "So I spent my life savings and took out a few bank loans to invent a small ring shaped device that the lady can wear on her finger. Using Bluetooth technology, the ring will light up and emit a small, non-sexually arousing vibration when the cellular phone rings. Therefore, the woman will always know when her phone is ringing and avoid an embarrassingly long 'Missed Calls' list and miss out on what could be an amazing date."

Mr. Cohee showed his invention to Cingular spokesman Seth Moore. Moore erupted with laughter in the midst of Cohee's demonstration. "Holy hell, that's the dumbest invention I've ever seen! And it cost you how much to make?! I mean, even if it wasn't total crap, who would pay that much? What a f**cking loser! I bet you’ve never even been laid, eh dork? Hey Mike, get in here and listen to this douchebag!" Even in the face of such blatant ridicule, the polyester clad social moron is not discouraged. “Who cares what that jerk says,” the loser said with high hopes. “He’s just jealous that he didn’t think of this little gem first.”

Always skeptical, this reporter hit the streets to talk to you, the consumer. I ran into Andrea Walden on busy 5^th Avenue. I showed the attractive Ms. Walden the joke’s stupid invention. When asked if she would ever consider using such a retarded device, she rolled her eyes and said, “No friggin’ way. What a totally useless idea. What kind of tool thought up this piece of sh**?” I brought my findings back to said tool and Cohee was still adamant on getting this waste of plastic mass produced. “You’ll see, sir. I will be renowned as a great inventor – and I’ll finally get a hold of these ladies for dates.” Then, Cohee’s teenage brother shouted from the family’s kitchen, “Hey f**cktard, the reason the chicks don’t pick up when you call is because you’re a f**cking nerdburger!” As the brother laughed, Jim Cohee stood there awkwardly biting his nails, most likely contemplating suicide for the umpteenth time.

College Application Essay from a Poorly Home Schooled Student

Deer Deen of Admishins.

My name is Rory McInglerod and I wood very much like to go to your fine univercity. As you may or may not have seen from my applicashin. I am a homeschooled student. My mom teacher says that I am very smrt and have a lot of potency in my learning brain. I have learned stuff like math and grammer and fingerpainting and home depot. I also know the outside of the mall very good. I named the pigins there. They are my friends. Anywhos. I really know a buncha things and wood make a valuble ass to your very pretententchus institoot. Your probly thinking *hey, why wood this smrt guy choose my school? He cood go anyweres.* Your right Mr. Deen. I cood go anyweres with my hi IQ number. But I choosed Arizona State becuz of you're hi moral standards. I am a Christin like all you're students and wood fit in easy. I also look forward to meeting a girl. I heard that ASU has girls and they even go to the same classes as the boys. And they also touch boys on their dingy-doos. My ant touched my dingy-doo once and I gotta say. It was weird. But fun. I digest. I am interested in more things than dingy-doo touchings. Like you know other things. Such as TV and pornograffi. I wuz a Royal Ranger in church and went to a circus once.

1 thing I wood relly like to be when I am old like you is a dish warsher at the White House. Can you imagine warshing dishes for the president? No you can't. It blows the mind. I wood also not mind being a Deen of Admishins. That seems like a very exciting carer. And very rewarding too also. Ok. Mr. Deen. I have to go do my chores. My mom teacher always gets peenut butter all over the dog and I have to clean it up. I have never seen a dog that loves peenut butter so much in my 37 years of life. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Sincearly your'es.

Rory McInglerod

Lying to Your Kids Makes Them Turn Out Like Me

When I was a young child, all I ever wanted was a puppy. I was an only child living in a neighborhood without any other children. My parents sucked as far as playing went, so I needed a companion. My parents also sucked as far as tricking my innocent ass. My dad really wanted me to be a sports superstar, baseball in particular. No wonder I hate baseball today. Anyway, to get me motivated to practice, he would resort to bribery. On one particular day, he told me that if I practiced catching, he would give me a "wonderful surprise." I jumped up and down yelling, "Is it a puppy, is it a puppy? Tee hee hee." (I was a little gay back then) Dad was like, "It could be," and winked. "Oh boy, a puppy!!!" I gaily screamed. However, practicing was never good enough to get the surprise, I actually had to complete a difficult task. This task was to catch three "pepper" balls (aka: really hard thrown fast balls) in a row. I was six fucking years old here, mind you and tying my shoes was too complex for me at this point. To say that my hand-eye coordination was awful, would've been a compliment.

He threw the first few and of course, they painfully bounced off of my chest or stomach. Luckily, he didn't aim at my head. Normally, any little discomfort would've made me scream, cry and run away, but I wanted a goddamn puppy. I dealt with the pain. Then, I actually caught one. And another, and finally, I caught three in a row. "Huzzah!" I yelled. "Lets go get my puppy! Skipadee do-dah, poodie doo!" However, the prize was not a puppy. It was a fucking bag of sunflower seeds. "Just like the pro's chew, son," my mean ass father said. I was not very happy with this turn of events. I yelled and screamed, "Gimme my puppy! I want my puppy, now!" To which, he laughed and went inside to share the joke with my mother. I decided to run away, but only made it to the back yard before I had to pee. Again, I was a little bitch and couldn't pee outside.

A few weeks later, Dad wanted me to practice my hitting. But I was still pissed off and didn't want to have anything to do with a damn baseball. Then, my conniving mother got involved. She said, "If you hit a homerun, we'll get you a puppy." "A PUPPY! I wanna puppy, now!" I screamed in my high pitched voice I still have today. I was gullible and innocent, so I did not see the horrible plan at work. They both knew my 35 pound body couldn't hit a fucking homerun if my life depended on it. It was physically impossible. However, trying to do it would improve my hitting and therefore please my father who would then buy my mother things and thus pleasing everyone - except me.

I got up to the plate and after several pop ups to the pitcher, I caught hold of one and hit it over the fence. I screamed like a nun having her first orgasm and skipped around the bases yelling, "Ima gettin' a puppy! I can hit homeruns for puppies!" I ceremoniously stomped on home plate and demanded said puppy. My mother bent down on one knee, put her hand on my shoulder and said, "Oh, honey, you had to hit two homeruns to get a puppy and it's getting too late for you to try another one." My heart broke and my brain exploded. If I knew any curse words, they would've flown. All I could say was, "That's the biggest load of poop I've ever dangin' heard. Darn it to heck!" Then, I cried for a long while. To shut me up, they said I could have a hamster. Joy, a hamster. BUT, if I showed that I could take care of the hamster, then maybe I'd get a puppy. I took the fucking hamster and named him TJ after my favorite police drama at the time.

One day on the way to school, we were driving through the woods and I saw a bag of puppies on the side of the road. I swear to God, I'm not making this up. Some redneck assbag took his dog's puppies and threw them in a sack and dumped them. I pleaded with Mom to stop and save them and then maybe we could even keep one. She said that we were running late, but if they were still there on our way home that afternoon, we could stop and get them. Of course, they weren't. I'm sure she drove back, tied the sack up, and threw it in the lake.

Fortunately for me, my parents divorced soon after that. Together they were formidable at psychological warfare, but separated, they were no match for a spoiled, whiney, guilt tripping son of a bitch like me. A few months after the divorce, I went up to Mom and said, "It's all my fault you got divorced. I shoulda never been born." My mother was horrified and felt terrible. She asked what she could do to prove that I deserved life. I stared up at her with my best Hazel Guiltiness stare and said, "Gimme a puppy. I wanna puppy, NOW!" Checkmate, Ma.

The next day I got a cocker spaniel. I cleverly named him Cinnamon and we had a wonderful time together - until I got bored with him. One day I came home from school and Cinnamon wasn't there to greet me. I searched the house calling his name, but no dog anywhere. My mom got home and I asked where the sam hill Cinnamon was. "Oh, he's visiting some friends for a couple of days. He'll be back soon," she lied. I was dumb and believed her and then a couple of weeks passed. I asked when he was coming home and she said, "He really likes it at his friend's house and wants to stay there. You can visit anytime you want though." "Let's go NOW!" I yelled. "Um, not right now. Maybe later," my mean ass mother said. I did get to visit him once. He lived in the ghetto with a bunch of white trash kids. I hated them and how they loved Judge Wapner. Later on, during high school, I date-raped one of them. "Gimme some pussy. I want some pussy, NOW!" I screamed in my high pitched voice I still have today. Ironically, she became a stripper and her stage name was Cinnamon. We remain close.

Well, Cinnamon was gone, but at least I still had TJ. Although he bit you every time you touched him, he was better than nothing. TJ lived with my father, probably so I'd still go over there. I was a Mamma's boy. Anyway, I went over for the weekend and Dad told me that TJ died. This was just too much. First Cinnamon went to live in a trailer park and now TJ is dead. Plus, I guess the divorce sucked too. I went to the backyard to say a prayer for the little bastard and I saw his cage sitting on the wall adjacent to the snake infested woods. The door was open. Later on in life, my father admitted, he sat the cage on the wall and opened the door. He hated the rat and wanted it gone. There is a 90 percent chance TJ was eaten by a snake within three minutes of his freedom.

I had forgotten all of this until the other night. Ms. Jackson asked me, "What's the most fucked up lie your parents told you?" After I told her the tale of the puppy, her mouth was gaped. She said that my personality totally makes sense to her now and knows where my manipulation comes from. To be fair to my parents, I did get two puppies when I was eight and they just recently died last year. Add all the dogs my stepdad went through and I had a pretty dog filled childhood. That's why I don't own one now. Dogs are stupid and a lot of fucking trouble; Now, I'd take a hamster over a puppy without hesitation.

Hungry. God Bless.

Get to Know the Homeless

by: Juan Carlos

Vagrant, destitute, down-and-out, bum, hobo, transient, tramp, gutterpup, drifter, bag lady. These are some of the fun things to yell at homeless people. However, have you ever gotten to know one of these hopeless dregs? The answer is probably "no." That is about to change with a groundbreaking new series that will introduce the masses to many of our beloved Northwest Arkansas bums.

The first homeless person profiled in this series is named Dabney Mullins. He works the ramp off of I-540's Bentonville exit at mile marker 85. He told me that this is a prime location due to all the Wal-Mart corporate traffic that goes by. He has also set up a nice hovel under the bridge adjacent to his business. Dabney's marketing strategy is direct and gets his selling points across. He went with the basic cardboard and sharpie option package with his signage. It simply reads, "Hungry. God Bless." He explained his tactic, "You see, everyone can relate to being hungry, so I went that route. Hits every demographic. Also, in this part of the country, most people are Christians. That's why I threw that last part in." Dabney's choice of uniform is a brilliantly depressing flannel coat and torn jeans. He accessorizes nicely with a generic baseball cap and crazy beard. "The more random stuff I get stuck in it," he tells, "the more people think I'm nuts. And that translates into positive cash flow. I've also found that mumbling insane gibberish to myself also boosts my profits."

Since most people are curious about how one becomes and stays homeless, but are too afraid or repulsed to ask, I put the tough questions to Dabney.

Juan Carlos: How did you become a drain on society?

Dabney Mullins: I was a high-powered executive at Wal-Mart and one day suggested in a meeting that the company might want to rethink its gun selling philosopy. I was summarily fired, my house was burned down, all assets were seized, and my wife was forced to fellate a goat. I was blackballed from every company that does business with Wal-Mart, which is all businesses, and ended up on the streets.

JC: Sounded like you got your just desserts. Wal-Mart not selling guns is like George Bush not using a Magic 8 Ball to make all his important decisions. You actually got off lucky in my book.

DM: I suppose you're right.

JC: I am. What are your plans for the future?

DM: I imagine more panhandling until I freeze to death.

JC: Sounds promising. Do you harbor any ill will to the liberal, pinko Democratic party for keeping you homeless?

DM: What?

JC: You know, those left of the aisle, commie, homosexual lovers. They have blocked the GOP's every move to eradicate homelessness and have everyone come to Jesus. Doesn't that enrage you?

DM: Are you insane?

JC: Yeah, I'm insane. Which one of us makes $30K a year, drives a sweet Hyundai Santa Fe, and goes to bed with a former junior college volleyball intermural alternate and which one of us lives under a bridge, drinks his own urine, and has relations with dead squirrel carcasses. I am clearly living the American Dream.

DM: You sure are. Can you spare any change?

JC: Hey Dabney, why don't you get a job or better yet, go f*** yourself?

Do They Ever Just Piss?

Have you ever noticed that whenever you see a fat guy coming out of a bathroom, they have just taken the nastiest shit ever?

Wuxtry! Wuxtry!

Local Church Takes Action Against Rampaging 900 Foot Jesus

Rogers, AR - Local non-blind residents may have noticed the three gigantic crosses right off the Pinnacle Hills exit. The crosses are the result of over a decade of planning and heartache. In 1980, Orel Roberts awoke the 900 foot Jesus and ever since, the behemoth Lord has been terrorizing the Midwest. Sadie Mae Jenkins, a long time Rogerian, remembers the first time she saw the ninety story messiah. "My mother called all of us children out in our Sunday Bests and we were excited to see a very large Jesus. We never woulda thunk that he was so destructive." On that harrowing day, the MegaJesus devoured Sadie Mae's mother and eleven of her fourteen siblings.

Starting with that day in 1984, the rampaging Jesus has made several visits to the area; every single time leaving a wake of devastation. In 1996, Rogers city leaders decided to take matters into their own hands. "First we tried building a 900 foot Satan, but many residents thought it too sacrilegious," former Assemblyman Morris Brown recalled. "Then, my son suggested a 900 foot Santa Claus after viewing a South Park episode. However, the folks at Comedy Central threatened to tie us up in court for years and we had to scrap that idea. After that debacle, we sat around thinking, what's the only thing that can kill a gigantic Jesus. Of course, the answer was a gigantic cross!"

Soon after that fateful meeting, ground broke on the Giant Cross Initiative. Years into the planning, the council decided to also add two more giant crosses in the rare event that Jesus, Godzilla, and Mothra all attack at the same time. "You never know with those three on the loose," Brown said. The unveiling of the Giant Crosses was host to some of the most prominent Northwest Arkansans. Even Sadie Mae Jenkins strapped on her two prosthetic legs to witness man's triumph over giant religious icons. After the ceremony, Sadie Mae stood in awe and whispered, "I dare you to mess with us now, you crazy 900 foot Jesus."

Things My Retarded Uncle Taught Me

*Licking a rabbit may bring you good fortune.
*Urine can save your life in 17 various ways.
*Never punch a Nun on a Tuesday.
*Throwing rocks at your child is a helpful way to build self-esteem.
*Sexual intercourse in the rain is the leading cause of HIV.
*Monkeys can tell the difference between consensual sex and rape.
*The color blue was invented by the Nazi's in 1939.
*The Internet is an excellent way to view obscure porn.
*Chiropractors have the cure for cancer, but are waiting for a little goddamned respect.
*Midgets are actually really old children.
*People who eat too much are generally obese.
*Dogs are jealous of things made of glass.
*Eating your vomit is not a good money saving tip.
*Brown suits invite sexual advances from Gypsies.
*Studies have shown that colorblind people are statistically more racist.
*Do not - under any circumstances - smash your testicles with a hammer.
*You should not trust blond, brunette, redheaded, or bald women.
*Your anus makes an excellent place to hide valuables.
*Owning a cellular phone automatically makes you a great human being.
*For every text message you send, a baby's soul is banished to Hell.
*Cats do not make very good spouses.
*The dinner table is not an acceptable place for masturbation.
*Business cards may bring about the end of civilization.
*An empty paste bottle is a good receptacle for unwanted semen. It is also a functional epoxy.
*Pepsi used to contain heroin, but changed the recipe in 1989. Now it contains the crushed dreams of orphans.
*In certain circles, ovarian cysts are a delicacy.
*Vikings wore funny ass hats.
*You know that guy Lot from the Bible? Yeah, he had a fucked up life.
*All prescription drugs have the same ingredients.
*Pop-up ads are the only thing standing between us and a total nuclear holocaust.
*The Indians knew that the taint was the tastiest part of a buffalo, but never told anyone.
*Country music has caused more deaths than the Civil War and Brennagin's Scuffle combined.
*Don't believe a man if he says he has a unicorn in his pants.
*It sucks being retarded. Please let me out of this trunk.

Night of a Thousand Cocks

It's Saturday night and I've spent ten hours on the couch catching up on this season's "Smallville" episodes on YouTube. For those of you that don't know, I have to watch anything and everything related to Superman, Batman, or Spiderman. That includes poorly written teen dramas. Hell, I even watched the short-lived and horrible "Birds of Prey" just because it was about Batman's daughter and Batgirl/Oracle. Anyway, after staring at my laptop for so long, my eyes were beginning to bleed and I figured I needed to get out of the house. About that time, Gayron called me up and said that he and his dude were having a get together at their Gay House and then maybe go to a bar.

After I was there for a couple hours, they decided it was time to go out. It was Gayron and his dude, along with Rocky and his dude. They told me that they were going to a regular bar and then "maybe" hit the gay one. Whatever, I was down. We all climbed into Gayron's classic boat of a Mercedes and were on our way. However, I soon realized that I was duped and we were heading directly to the gay bar. They laughed and made fun of my misfortune. While we were in line, I realized that I was a fifth wheel with two gay couples. Fuck, I needed to be drunk - ASAP. Fortunately, I was dressed like a slob, so nobody thought I was very attractive.

A little while later, I saw Mis's work gay friend, Pottery Barn, and his dude. They were accompanied as always by Stevie Nicks. I've written of her before, but am too lazy to link back to the original post; so I'll just recap. Every time I hang out with Mis and her work pals, this chick gives me the fucking creeps. She flirts with me, but it is a creepy flirt, like an "I'm going to rape you" flirt. She also looks like a troll. I introduced my gays to Mis's gays and they hit it off and I made my way to the upstairs part of the club, where it is well lit. I hit the bathroom and while I was writing my name in the trough with my manly, high pressured, urine stream, two guys opened the door, yelled, "Oh no, it's a lion!" and ran out. That's the weirdest fucking thing I've ever been called. I finished up and they were outside the door. I asked if they called me a lion, because it just seemed ridiculous if I actually heard it correctly, and they said they did. Later, I surmised that they recognized that I was a Leo. "Oh, look how he stands when he pees. He must be a Leo," they probably said.

After I growled at a few people, I saw a very hot, yet very drunk girl sitting alone on a sofa. I sat down next to her and we started talking. On the plus side, she was straight, however, she was also married. That ruled out any making out, but I honestly didn't care. It was just nice to talk to someone from my side of the fence. She was there with a couple of girlfriends. I stood up to meet one of them and this was the tallest, most Amazon woman I've ever met. She was six-foot-seven, for the love of Mike, and my head came to her nipple. She thought that was fun and kept grabbing me by the hair and motorboating me. Oh yeah, she was not attractive, so it kinda sucked. Anyway, the married chick stood up and she was a bit over six feet tall also. Their other friend was only six-three. I felt like Frodo visiting the fucking Land of the Giants.

The Amazons and I went to the bar next door and continued to get drunk. Gayron came by for a minute and started making out with the married hottie just to piss me off. "Ha, ha, it's fine because I'm gay," he always taunts. I really hate him. Before I knew it, it was 2am and the bars were closing down. I left the Amazons and went back to find Gayron and the boys. They were nowhere to be found, however, Stevie Nicks was there and had me cornered. "Where have you been," she asked with perversion in her voice. "Trying to make out with a married girl," I replied with fear in my voice. "Oh, you like making out with married girls? Well, I'm married," she said as I struggled to suppress the urge to vomit. Then, with lightning quick speed, that you would not associate with someone so trollish, I found that I was kissing this thing. I freaked out and ran up the stairs, most likely screaming. I ran outside and looked around. Gayron and the boys were still missing in action. I was stuck at the gay bar and too dumb to remember that there is actually a taxi in Arkansas.

I saw Pottery Barn and figured that I could get a ride from him. I was talking to him and the Amazons when Stevie grabbed me by the arm. She said, "Walk me to my car so I can get my coat." Since I cannot ever say "no" to anything, I reluctantly escorted her. On the way, she turned to me and said, "Will you please come to Pottery Barn's house and sleep with me?" It was one of the few times in my life that words had escaped me. I was flabbbbbbbbbergasted and now very sick. Inside my head, my three personas were screaming. Turkey Boy was even negated. He hid behind Heh Heh and left me to deal with this mess and all I had left was my fight or flight responses.

Then, as if by my own will, I saw Gayron's big, beautiful boat coasting down the street. Rocky saw me and threw the door open and I fucking booked away from Stevie Nicks in World Record pace. I wouldn't be surprised if I left a plume of dust and a few bobby pins lingering in the air. I dove in the car and yelled, "GO, GO, GO!" I tell you, I've never been more happy to see a car full of homosexuals in my life. We went back to the Gay House and people (ie: more gay dudes) started showing up for an afterparty. I was still shaken from the indecent proposal, so I was ready to head back to casa de turk. I made a little pit stop in the bathroom and during mid-stream, the door opened. This dude yelled, "Don't you lock the door?" I yelled back, "It was closed, who doesn't knock on a closed bathroom door?" He then proceeded to stare at my junk until I yelled at him to get the fuck out. He said, "You pee like a Leo," and left.

I left there, got home and resumed watching "Smallville" episodes on my laptop - just praying that the entire night had been one long bad dream and I'd wake up next to Bobby Ewing, who was alive and well this whole time.

Goodbye

Since I was almost killed by a cigarette today, I thought I'd share my latest quit smoking scheme. I got on this new drug, Chantix, and it is supposed to block your nicotine receptors. I've been on it a few days and it seems to be helping the crave. Yesterday I only had 4 smokes from 8am - 8pm, but then had 16 smokes from 8pm - 1am, so who fucking knows... My "Quit Date" is this Saturday, so the fine folks at Pfizer send me a daily affirmation and activity to make sure I quit smoking and continue to buy their drug. Today's activity was, "Write a Goodbye Letter to Cigarettes," and that was way too stupid to pass up.

My Dearest Cigarettes,

I believe it is time we had a little talk. I don't know an easy way to say this, so I'll just get to it. I'm leaving you cigarettes, I'm moving on with my life with another destructive substance. Please don't get me wrong, I've loved you so very much for the past eleven years. Boy, did we have some good times. I remember when we met. I was in fifth grade and you tried to seduce me. I was too young and innocent for you then, but then you caught me seven years later in a moment of drunken weakness. I remember that one of Ginny Giles' boobs was talking to me and then it gave me a taste of you. I stood up to proclaim how great you were, and then your siren song hit me. The wonderful dizziness and the nausea were oh, so great. We hung out sporadically that summer; only when I wanted Sara Beth to think I was cool like her, but I knew that you and I didn't have a future - yet you just wouldn't give up, you crazy romantic fool.

During my freshman year of college, you saw how I struggled to make new friends. You convinced me to hang outside with the smokers and I met some great and wonderful bad influences. Then, you had me. I was all yours, all the time. Years went by and you got me through all the rough spots in my life. Your soothing burns when I wanted to stop my teen angst filled thoughts, were a lifesaver. When I cleaned my life up, I wanted to part ways, but you had a hold on me and eventually that hold turned to fear. That was the beginning of the end for us, my love.

I did leave you for eight wonderful months, but you manipulated me back to you with your vile cousin, Black & Milds. You can be such a bastard sometimes. I do thank you for all the things you have given me. The social pariah status, torturing myself in extreme hot and cold weather, smelling like ass constantly, the dulled teeth, black lungs, zero stamina, and super cool cough. I'm also tired of supporting you. I've spent around $13,000 on you, and what do I have to show for it except for a few butts in the trashcan?

Yes, it is over. I am seeing a prescription drug now. It is much healthier than you, as it only damages my liver and digestive system. It also costs ten dollars less per month and since I am great about not getting addicted to things, I should be off them in a matter of months. I know that I'll see you around and I hope things aren't awkward between us. I really did love you and I guess a part of me always will. Remember the good times, my dear.

With Love,

Sean

PS: If you still want to get together and fuck every now and then, I'm cool with that.

Surgeon General's Warning

I generally think that I'll die due to my own stupidity. Like I won't be paying attention in the car, or I'll contract some ailment from my poor lifestyle; such as heart disease, liver failure, some STD I'll catch from having sex with monkeys, etc. I don't know that I've ever considered that I would die due to someone else's stupidity; but not anymore.

Since Sally is such a environmental unfriendly car, I have fill up with gas every other day. I actually got gas yesterday morning, but the pump was super slow. Add that to the fact that I was already an hour late and it felt like I was pumping gas in Antarctica, I gave up after only three gallons. That three gallons burned through quick, so once again, I was at the pump during lunch. As I pulled up to the pump, a Blazer drove up on the other side. A woman opened the door and she was smoking, which is retarded all around. I smoke, but I do it with as much common sense as one can have who is slowly killing themselves; eg: I don't smoke around children, closed spaces, and definitely not around thousands of gallons of highly flammable liquid.

Silently judging the woman in my head and making sure my testicles hadn't fallen off from frostbite, I didn't pay much more attention to her - until she started her car. Yep, this dumbass started pumping gas and then got back in her car and started the damn thing. Then, I saw to my left, her half smoked, still smoldering cigarette four feet from me and two feet from Sally. Also, to make things more dire, three streams of liquid were slowly inching their way towards the filter of death. (You can imagine the music running through my mind.) Granted, the liquid was probably melted ice, but I saw the rainbow shimmer that gas gives off when mixed with water. My only saving grace was that if there was an explosion, that bitch would be blown to bits along with me. Fortunately, there were indentions on the pavement in each of the stream's paths, which slowed them down long enough for me to finish pumping gas unscathed. However, I didn't drive off immediately because I needed to run in and get a pack of cigarettes.

You Don't Even Know How I Tried My Best at Getting a Divorce

I really love how odd my pals are. In their own unique way, each one of them can really help turn anything into a good time. Let's take Friday night, for example. Friday night, there was a birthday party for Bocephus at the local piano bar. I didn't have much in common with his friends since I don't know anything about motorcycles, but Mis would be there and my newest crush, Super-Duper Uber Hottie, said she'd go with me so I knew that I'd have a good time. Unfortunately, hanging out with me is detrimental to your health and my objet d'affection came down with a case of the funk. I got to the bar feeling somewhat disappointed and totally unshecky; I didn't know if I would be able to bounce back. Mis had her hands full with Bocephus, so she couldn't help. (Yes, I am aware the world doesn't revolve around me, but it fucking should) Then, as if sensing my despair, my phone started blaring Outkast. It was Ms. Jackson and she turned the night around. Her and I really love the Dane Cook special and like to yell the catchphrases from it. If you haven't seen it, they are:
"You don't even know!"
"I tried my best."
"I'm getting a divorce!"

MJ challenged me to only use those three phrases whenever I met someone new at the bar. I raised the bar and threw in the classic Clerks line, "My love for you is making fuck, Berzerker!" There it was, my challenge for the night and let me tell you it was tough. I tried it out a few times and switched up how I said them, but it never worked right. Then, it all fell into place. I went outside to smoke and there were a few people out there and I nailed it.

GIRL 1: How you doing?
ME [Whispers]: I tried my best.
GIRL 1: What?
ME [Agitated]: I'm getting a DIVORCE!
GIRL 2: Oh, that sucks man, I'm sorry...
ME [Yelling]: You don't even KNOW!
GIRL 1: Yeah, you're right, I haven't been married.
ME [Confused]: My love for you is making fuck, Berzerker?
GIRL 1&2 [Nervous laughter]: Nice talking to you.

To ease their minds, I told them of the challenge and they thought it was really weird, but a little funny. After that, I was back to good Turk form and fucked with people all night. Some fun things of note did happen: I was wearing my "Greatest American Hero" shirt and the piano dudes started playing the show's theme song (Believe it or not, I'm walking on air...). Needless to say, I went a little nuts. They also played Tenacious D's "Fuck Her Gently," and Mis and I being the only people in the bar that knew the song, yelled every word. She said when they started playing it, I screamed like a girl. Whatever, I'm all man, all the time. Some fat girls told me this gem: "We think you're hot, but you should dress more Sex in the City and less Malcolm in the Middle." I wanted to tell them: "I think you're fat and you should shouldn't go out in public." And of course, we ended up at the Gay Bar. Which was awesome because to see Bocephus in a gay bar was fucking priceless. I think I may write a one act play about it.

An Instance of Bad OCD

I've been thinking about this movie I saw when I was a little kid. It came on some Saturday morning in 1983 and the name of it was "All the Money in the World." I am compelled to write about it; I don't want to, I don't know the point, but I cannot focus on anything else until I write about this obscure movie I saw when I was six, so here you go. If for some reason I was forced to post this, you should quit reading right now - unless you're very bored.

My memory is hazy about it, but the plot of this masterpiece went like this: Some dumbass kid finds a leprechaun and gets to make a wish. He wishes for (as the title suggests) all the money in the world. Sure enough, all the damn money in the world "pops" into his house. Everyone freaks out and chaos ensues. Ronald Reagan is super pissed, so he calls Parker Brothers and declares that Monopoly money is the new US currency. However, Reagan didn't take into account how shifty leprechauns are and all the Monopoly money ended up at the little douchebag's house. The feds tried to take a page out of the Flintstones' book and introduced a clam based economy. Of course, all the clams in the world ended up at this rat faced kid's house. They even tried to use an economy based on underage Thai prostitutes, but you guessed it, all the hookers were transported to the tow-headed bastard's house. At the end of the movie, the kid realized the effects of greed and convinced the leprechaun to give him a wish if he blows him. Turns out that the leprechaun was not magical at all, but an Irish dwarf pedophile. Everything was resolved when the Masons called Satan and had him put everything right. Nobody learned anything.

Why I had to write about this movie is still a mystery to me. Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me that I'm being greedy. I don't think I'm heading towards greed; shit, I'm a bad day away from selling all of my possessions and becoming a cross country transient. I have been hanging out with a short Irish dude, but I don't think he's a sex offender. Hell, he's always saying how he isn't and only wants a child's perspective when he loses his super cute puppy and needs help finding it. I tell him he needs to invest in a leash and he just laughs that creepy laugh of his. No, their must be another reason I am obsessing about this dumbfuck movie. I haven't even had a Thai prostitute in months, so that can't be it. I've paid my Mason dues and given the Devil his CD's back, so what the hell? Maybe I'm protesting something - money, Republicans, clams, children. Yeah, that's it. Children are stupid and if you don't watch out, they'll ruin the world's economy with their lame-brained schemes. I think that most, if not all, children are communists and their goal is to turn us all into cotton candy. No, that was "Killer Klowns from Outer Space." Now, THAT was a good son of a bitchin' show! You gotta rent that tonight!

Your Kiss is on My List

I just realized that I am going to be 30 years old in six months. I don't think I can handle it. It's not the getting older part that gets me, it's the list of things I wanted to do by the time I turned 30 that is very incomplete. Basically, I have eight short months to complete the open items or my life will be deemed as a failure.

Things to do by the time I'm 30

By: Sean White, Age 11

Collect every He-Man

Go to Moon

Alienate friends and family

Own house with indoor basketball court

Build flying car or learn to fly

Go to three separate colleges

Meet someone who's been gangbanged

Try corn

Own every Superman comic printed from today to age 30

Become the most awkward date ever

Make a gazillion dollars

Get married

Get divorced

See Neil Diamond in concert

Write the Great Romanian Novel

Kill a man

Learn an instrument

Become a chain smoker

Try not to be such a pussy

Go skiing

Gueststar on Charles in Charge as Buddy's brother

Kick Bozo in the nuts

Learn something about cars

Find out how to use tools

Eat whole package of bacon at once

Shit for five straight days

Try manual labor

Become the greatest lover of all time

Not While My Stories Are On!

It's that time of year when the TV networks bring out their most excellent new shows. For myself, if it isn't a cartoon (or have nudity and plenty of cursing), I generally don't watch it. However, it's been a few years since I watched a new show and I caught this Heroes program the other day and love it because I am a total geek and my favorite comic book authors write it (run ons are cool). It got me thinking that maybe there are more things on the tube besides cartoons and filth. I warmed up the DVR, erased some Skinamaxes to free up space, and delved into what kinds of programming the networks are offering.

If you're a fan of the crime drama, then you are in luck. There are 36 different CSI's on this year, with reruns of the previous seasons on somewhere throughout cable 24 hours a day. You've also got your pick between 87 different Law & Order's. The CSI's are all the same, except they change the cities (and Who song) and give the actors different names and hair colors. Other than that, pick your favorite city and just watch that one. The rest are redundant. My favorite is CSI: Laguna Beach. The Law & Order's change up police divisions instead of cities. Again, same character types in each one and you are guaranteed at least one rape or child molestation per episode. To recap, fans of geography, you'll enjoy a CSI; fans of sexual assault, a Law & Order is right up your alley - an alley where someone is getting raped right now. There are 457 other crime dramas to choose from as well; however, they are all the same as a CSI or Law & Order, except they have a gimmick. For example, there's a crime drama with ghosts, with OCD, with puppets, with boobs, with con-men, with strong women, a couple with talking dildos, one with funny accents, with math nerds, a few that focus on kidnapping, a few about the criminals point of view, one with a cursing bald dude, and one with a wrinkly James Woods. They are all blatant rip-offs of the best crime drama ever, Quincy, M.E.

If you enjoy sketch comedy, like Saturday Night Live, you are creaming your pants to the season's offerings. Besides SNL and Mad TV, there are 13 shows about what it is like making one of those shows. Kinda like how there were two talking pig, volcano, and killer meteor/comet movies that came out at the same time. What are the odds of multiple takes on a shitty idea coming out at the same time? Apparently, very good. There is also a shit load of sitcoms out, but I can't really tell one from the other. They've been the same for as long as I can remember. Mom, Dad, Asshole Kids, stupid neighbor/friend, talking alien, etc. Or there's the idiot group of people trying to find love, success, ass, blah, blah, blah. Watching something with a laugh track damages the soul anyway, so stay away from this shit. Try The Venture Brothers or The Boondocks for a good family 30 minute comedy. The Venture Brothers is riddled with innuendo and violence and The Boondocks allows white people to laugh at racist remarks without getting beat up.

If you were a super dork in school (like the type the band geeks beat up) and looked forward to the May talent show all year, then hello Dorky! You are set. There are shows to see if people can sing - with various genre shows thrown in, whether or not people can dance - there's actually a few of them and one has shitty celebrities! There are shows to see if fatties can not be fat anymore - and one has fat shitty celebrities! And if that wasn't enough, you can totally feel like you live with other shitty celebrities. I just want a reality show called Jessica Alba's Bathroom. That'd do it for me.

These reality shows are the reason for the decline of America. I'm serious, back in 1989, the USSR got together and formed a master plan to win the cold war. They pretended to crumble and secretly became TV producers. Up until 1994, they tried to make us into idiots with shows like Ricki Lake and Jenny Jones. When that didn't work, they created The Real World. It made my generation drop out of college and embrace Communism, but they still had to get the Baby Boomers. So in 1999, Lenin's brain and Gorbechev's birthmark dreamed up Survivor and ever since, all American generations have been experiencing gradual lobotomies. They invented TiVo to keep us from watching commercials so the economy will collapse and capitalism will be ruined. Then they created the Food Network to keep us fat and cable news channels to keep us closed minded. Yeah, that's crazy - crazy like a FOX.

Beware of Monkey Rape

I am fascinated by the human mind. It is so interesting how some random comment can plant a seed into my brain and grow into a Tree of Sheck. I was in Eureka Springs with Ms. Jackson on Saturday and we were in a bar playing Trivial Pursuit whilst the rest of the drunks watched football (I was pronouncing it Fute-boll). One of the questions was about a Asian country and MJ was telling me about her experiences working in different countries. She told me that if a woman is menstruating in Bali, she cannot enter the jungle because the monkeys will pick up the scent and rape her. That was an interesting fact and I immediately thought of a yellow highway sign that said BEWARE OF MONKEY RAPE. We played the game for a bit longer and then headed off to another bar.

As we approached our next drinking destination, I told MJ, "a good name for a band would be Beware of Monkey Rape. Imagine the fliers you could put out, Tonight at Chelsea's, Beware of Monkey Rape." That's great on a few levels. We went into the bar and played some horrible pool. Then I met one of MJ's friends, Afro Joe. We were talking and I asked him what he thought about my new band name. He told me that it made him think of AIDS. I saw his point, so I said the band would do an AIDS tribute song. From that point, we started making up said AIDS tribute song and I think we may just have the next We are the World here. Too bad I can't remember any of the lyrics.

Another friend of MJ's showed up, Giggley McCutie. Before I met her, MJ told me that I would fall in love with her, so when she walked up, I immediately said, "I love you. My name is Sean." I asked her what she thought of my new band name and she said it made her think of AIDS too. That brought on the tangent of how AIDS started and I shared the following theory:

In the monkey brains eating scene during the filming of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, an extra actually ate the monkey brains and caught AIDS. Unfortunately for the gay population, this extra was a huge gay slut and upon returning to his home in California, had sex with everyone ever. If only it would have been a straight slut, the gays would've had an easier time back in the 80's.

Take Blog with a Glass of Milk

Tired of monthly Lobster Boy appearances (and the $125 per Bluelight Special), I had my masochistic dermatologist prescribe me Accutane to finally rid myself of teenage skin angst before I turned 30. It was a pain in the ass to get due to all the FDA red tape. I had to swear on my life to the FDA that I wouldn't donate blood (damn) or knock anybody up (damn damn) while I was on the med. That sucks, as I love donating blood and having offspring. After going through the Blue Cross/Walgreens gauntlet, (my local pharmacy won't even distribute it because of all the bullshit) I finally got my wonder drug. I've been on it for about two weeks and it seems to be working. I was reading the potential side effects and they are so ridiculous that I had to share.

Stop using Accutane right away if you:

*Start to feel sad or have crying spells. (sniff)

*Lose interest in activities you once enjoyed. (I don't have any interests and am not active, so I'm not worried.)

*Sleep too much or have trouble sleeping. (Seems like they've covered all ends here. Which one is it?)

*Become more irritable than usual. (Fuck off!)

*Have a change in your appetite or body weight. (I have been craving Twinkie's since I started the dose.)

*Have trouble concentrating. (What'd you say?)

*Withdraw from your friends or family. (That's a bad thing?)

*Feel like you have no energy. (They must've been slipping me this shit my whole life. Thank God for Meth.)

*Have feelings of worthlessness or appropriate guilt. (If I had tried harder in Model UN, North Korea wouldn't have nukes. I suck.)

*Start having thoughts about hurting yourself. (Have you guys tried this cutting thing? It's awesome to feel something.)

*You die from Accutane.

Do not take Accutane if: (Paraphrased from actual warnings)

*Anyone in your family has ever been sick with anything, ever.

*If you've ever been sad in your life about anything other than the cancellation of ALF.

*You have bad skin.

*You or your spouse have ever thought about having children, or thought about a child in general.

*You go outside during the day (or full moon).

*You want to live.

Serious side effects:

*Serious brain problems; eg: dizziness, nausea, headaches, blindness, hearing loss, and uh, death.

*Abdomen problems; eg: painful swallowing, rectal bleeding, yellowing of skin. (also side effects of prison)

*You will most likely die from Accutane or kill yourself due to becoming crazy by taking Accutane. But your skin'll look nice!

Actually, the only side effects I have experienced aren't on this list. They are really chapped lips and really dry skin. However, since I'm addicted already to Chap-Stick and lotion, it hasn't been a problem. The other side effect is gross, but I'll share anyway. I've noticed that it has dried out my pooper. It's like I'm passing petrified dog turds every night at 6:15pm. Bet you wish you were that regular.

You Wanna Talk About Politics?

Since I still have a crippling case of writers block, I decided to pick a topic at random and write an educational essay, if you will. The random topic was Politics, which I know volumes about. I'm even registered to vote (in Nevada). Anyway, I am also most likely going to be your President in 2016, so this will be something the media can come back to and see how brilliant I was way back now. Yeah, I'm confused too on that sentence.

Basically, we need to break down the American political system down to its two primary parties: Republicans & Democrats. I subscribe to neither parties' doctrines, so this shall be a fair and balanced dissertation. Let's begin with Republicans. Republicans are conservatives and are made up of white Charlie Church types, retarded young people, gullible minorities, rich people, really poor people, Satan, and people with nubs instead of limbs. Republicans enjoy cutting, S&M with the shades drawn, NASCAR, molesting Japanese girls, guns, complaining about second hand smoke, yelling, ignoring basic facts about science and nature, counting obscenities on TV, FOX News, blowing shit up, telling you how to live, and graphically violent cartoon rape scenes (usually involving an elephant or otter).

Your very right-wing Republicans are all known to be closet case, self-loathing, homophobic homosexuals. If gay marriage was legalized throughout our closed minded land, all those right-wingers would be too tempted to marry one another and suck the hell out of some cock until the Apocalypse, which according to Republicans is sometime around next Arbor Day (plant a tree, then run it over in your Hummer). Their homophobic homogitus is also the reason they are so Pro-Life and against Stem Cell Research. You see, the more children that are born increases the number of young boys right-wingers can prey upon. What I propose to them is to drop the cloning ban, clone themselves, and fuck the shit out of their clones. Because a Republican loves no one more than his or herself. Also, if you ask any Republican, they will tell you that the universe is only 6,000 years old - because the Bible says so. Let's go off on a tangent with this:

First off, let me say that I am indeed a spiritual person. I know there is something out there due to the fact that if I was on my own to run my life, I would have died about 4,000 times by now by doing some stupid shit. I also think the Bible is A-OK. It is a nice book to learn how to be a good dude. However, most of it was written by sexist, racist dudes 2,000 years ago, so COME ON! Don't take everything so fucking literal! That being said, let me tell why the earth and universe cannot be only 6,000 years old. Everyone agrees that math is the universal truth. It is everywhere and cannot be so hastily disputed. Why you ask? Because, as I understand, God doesn't lie. If the common language of EVERYTHING is a lie, then you're basically calling God a filthy liar. And he hates that shit. Therefore, posit if you will, that Carbon-14 tests done on fossils and sediment samples that are billions of years old must be held as a mathematical, and therefore, universal truth. End of rant.

Let's move on to Democrats. Democrats are liberals and are made up of atheists, brooding artists, college kids who don't shower, minorities, regular poor people, pussies, pretentious celebrities, gays, lipstick lesbians, scientists, Satan, and that damn liberal media. Democrats enjoy cutting (who doesn't), S&M in a public park, NASCAR, giving hand jobs to prisoners, losing elections, the New Yorker, pretending to care about the environment, those stupid Ugg boots, being elitist, crying, anything with Cameron Diaz or Julia Roberts, abortions, and large pieces of art depicting a religious figure(s) being harpooned by a giant cock(s).

Your very left-wing Democrats are well known to be ginormous pussies that cannot process an original thought. They are also closet homosexuals but are not so guarded in their secret. Democrats don't believe in the sanctity of marriage and would love it if everyone got to fuck goats. Left-wingers are also made up of the young boys that should have been aborted, but ended up being preyed upon by right-wingers. Explains a lot, eh? If the Democratic party was manifested into a person, it would be the unholy union of Jan & Cindy Brady.

Our next topic shall be Democrats vs. Republicans. Republicans have totally kicked the Democrat's asses for the past few years. And how pathetic can the Democrats be that they couldn't find a decent enough opponent to the worst president in the history of everything? Holy fuck, a retarded spider monkey could've beat W, but they seemed to fuck that up. I don't understand how anyone with eyes, ears, and an IQ over 65 could've voted for that douchebag's re-election. Are people really that scared? Fuck it, and that leads us to the majority party; the party with more constituents than the Republicans and the Democrats combined: The Apathetic Party. I belong to this party, along with 80% of America. We just don't give a fuck; but would appreciate it if they'd loosen up on the drug laws. Oh, and fix the goddamn roads for fuck's sake!

Obviously, I could go on and on ad infinitum, but I will let you get back to work. And that, my friends, is how you cure writers block.

I Learned it from Watching You!

MMMM, Drugs. There's nothing like a good drug, eh? I know I love 'em. If you haven't done drugs, but would like to start, there really isn't a place you can go that tells you the pros and cons of each drug; ie: all the information about drugs from the Man tells you that they are all bad. I decided that as a public service, I would explain the different drugs out there and tell you what sort of effects they may have. Let's begin with the Gateway Drug. Not Marijuana, but Alcohol. If it wasn't for drinking a fifth of gin when I was 18, I would not have ever tried weed. That's why alcohol is the gateway drug and not Mary Jane. Alcohol is great, but it does turn you retarded when you've reached its maximum effect. Also, the Man has easy ways of testing you when you are driving while under the influence of alcohol. That's why I recommend doing other drugs on occasion (and driving while on them).

After alcohol, many people start with Marijuana, aka: Pot, Weed, Mary Jane, Green, Chronic, Hash, Chocolate Cake with Green Icing, Trees, Herb, Sticky-Icky-Icky, etc... Pot is a great way to start doing drugs, and I highly recommend it. (Especially if you are still in junior high school.) It gets you fucked up, but not too bad. Some potential effects of pot include: mild retardation, loss of attention span, heavy cartoon watching, something about memory loss or something, unemployment, the giggles, StuckToTheCouchitis, and Cap'n Crunchberry addiction. Many people claim that pot opens up their artistic mind, but if you look at the majority of stoner works, it sucks really, really bad. Take Schindler's List, for example. Thomas Keneally was really high when he wrote that and it was a major downer. However, a really good thing about pot is that it is used by a large spectrum of the populace, so you can move from clique to clique without changing your whole personality. One thing all pot smokers have in common is that they think they are much cooler and enlightened than everyone that doesn't smoke pot.

The next drug I'd like to go over is Ecstasy, aka: MDMA, E, X, how'd this dick get in my ear, etc... Ecstasy is the spawn of when Heroin and Meth have a gangbanging orgy with cleaning products. Ecstasy is what you would call a Club Drug. That's because people do it at clubs. Hey, people on drugs make up these terms, what do you expect? You know ecstasy is kicking in when you feel the horrible shit cramp. After that, it's all beautiful. Things people like to do while on ecstasy include: rubbing things, sucking things, fucking things, twirling glow sticks, drinking water, glitter, bass on taint action, secreting fluids from every orifice, telling you they love you, and archery. Ecstasy is cute as it always has a fun little picture on the tab. I recommend Mickey Mouse ecstasy, but a big thumbs down to the Cheer Bear tab. The best ecstasy comes in capsule form and is made by the government to distribute at state dinners. People who do ecstasy on a frequent basis usually have holes in their brains and are really easy lays.

Ecstasy can give you mild hallucinations, but if you want the real deal, go with LSD, aka: Acid, CIA Juice, Lucy, Oh my God, my feet are trying to eat me, etc... Being on Acid is the closest I've ever been to total insanity and broken from reality. Needless to say, it was AWESOME! Some potential effects of Acid include: Smelly colors, talking urns, dancing shoes, God-complexes, dementia, and thinking you are a glass of orange juice. In my opinion, Acid is a good drug to do if you are going to a Prom or playing a football game. People who do Acid on a regular basis are fucking crazy and should be treated as such. It is also considered really cool to fuck with someone on Acid. They sure love their Bad Trips. I sometimes have Acid Flashbacks and when I come to, I am doing some crazy shit; eg: strangling hookers with doorknobs, pooping on my boss's head - you know, shit like that. (SIDEBAR: I tripped balls in a LV penthouse & the exact room was on VH1 the other day. Neat!)

The natural cousin to LSD are Mushrooms, aka: 'Shrooms, Caps & Stems, Holy Shit these taste like ASS!, etc... Shrooms are great and are probably my favorite illegal drug. It is like supercharged pot. Unlike Acid, Shrooms won't make you into a psychotic killer. You should totally take them everyday. (I like mine with icing.) Also, they are found under cow shit, so there's a weekend activity the whole family can enjoy.

We now move from the Psychedelic drug family to the Speed family. People from these families usually don't get along. First off, there is Cocaine, aka: Coke, Nose Candy, Tony Montana, Shitty Pepsi, etc... Coke had it's run back in the 80's and people who still love their Members Only jackets probably have some Coke residue somewhere on their person. However, Coke was expensive, and the high didn't last too long, so Nancy Reagan invented Crack to sell to minorities. For a more detailed history, watch New Jack City or Babe 2: Pig in the City. Now the white trash poor people were jealous of the minorities, so Al Gore invented Crystal Methamphetamine, aka: Meth, Crystal, Tweak, Ice, Crank, Glass, Dentist in a Pipe, etc...

People on Meth generally enjoy cleaning things, picking at their skin, taking electronics apart, not showering, rearranging shit, losing teeth, massive paranoia, alienating family and friends, 16 hour marathon fucks, not eating, taking painful shits, smelly pussies, being awake, and permanent psychological damage. One of the pros of Meth is that it is very, very hard to get addicted to, so definitely give it a try. I've never met a tweaker that said they were addicted, so there you go. Tweakers also use Coke to comedown, so you know Coke is some pussy shit. Another non-addictive drug to try out is Heroin. Heroin is another kind of a pussy drug and the best means of transporting it is to put it in a balloon and swallow it. A few days later, shit it out and enjoy! People don't really need to do heroin anymore since there are many prescription drugs that do the same thing. Segue...

In the 40's, the Man decided to create legal versions of all the aforementioned drugs and put them into a pill form. The purpose of this was to develop suburbia and keep women in kitchens. The administration at the time had a high heels and apron fetish and the only way to keep those crazy broads at home was to invent Valium. Then they invented painkillers to compensate for all the dildo injuries sustained while all the boys were in WWII. From this, we got the wonderful Hydrocodone, which includes, Vicodan and Lortabs. Then they added heroin, crack, midget feces, fiberglass, and Windex to Vicodans and came up with Oxycodone, aka: Oxycotton, Oxy, O's, etc... You know when it is working because you start scratching your skin off and projectile vomiting. Then you have to take more because your skin and throat hurts. Well played, Drug companies, well played. Backing up to the Valium family, we were blessed by Jesus himself with the gift of Xanax. Xanax is manufactured by cherub angels in Heaven and is the most wonderful thing the Lord ever gave us. Really good Icee's are choc-fulla Xanax. If you are a parent, start giving your child Xanax at around 18 months and continue until they are as docile as a baby calf. Then, when you eat them, their Xanax rich muscles will totally fuck you up. It is awesome.

The final drug I will go over is the most addictive drug on the planet. It is also the oldest drug out of all drugs. I was addicted after my first experience and think about it constantly. However, it is sometimes tricky to get and is very, very expensive (unless you go to Mexico). I am talking, of course, about Pussy, aka: Snatch, Fargina, the Pink, Love Canal, Silky Cock Glove, Hair Pie, Trim, Fag Repellant, Pink Taco, best thing ever, Sticky-Icky-Icky, etc... Pussy gives the best highs and is also a mood elevator. Some Pussy has health restorative properties, such as healing canker sores due to extreme sunflower seed eating sessions. However, much like Acid, you can get the occasional bad hit of Pussy, and that can scar the novice user. While Pussy is legal in America, it is banned from many Middle Eastern countries. Some side effects of Pussy may include: Offspring, itchiness, abortion fees, being whipped, major money loss, loss of balls, and putting it on a pedestal.

I hope now you know which drugs you may want to take. I would try to take all of them, if I were you - preferably trying them all in one night. It is also fun to give them to your pets and children.

Extry! Extry!

Local Man Uses Wrong Chap-Stick; 11 Dead

By: Amanda Hugginkiss

ROGERS, AR (AP) - Eleven people are dead and countless injured as a result of local resident Sean White realizing he had been using Cherry flavoured Chap-Stick instead of his trademark Strawberry. Authorities speculate that White was duped due to the similar shades of red on the two distinct lip balm flavors. White's friend, Ms. Jackson, witnessed the entire melee. "It's all my fault," Jackson cried to police. "The smell of Strawberry flavoured products makes me quite nauseous, and when Sean was applying his Chap-Stick for the 1,368th time this morning, I mentioned that it didn't make me want to barf. Then he examined the label and found that he'd been using Cherry Chap-Stick - and all hell broke loose. I would like to send my sympathies to all the families affected by this rampage of sheer madness." Witnesses claim that upon the realization, White immediately started wailing and then grabbed a pencil and stabbed his closeted homosexual co-worker in the neck several times. The closeted homosexual is in critical condition, but still hasn't admitted his true orientation. After the vicious pencil attack, White punted another co-worker, an Imbalanced Vegan into the large fishtank adorning his office's lobby. Then, Ms. Jackson tried to calm White down and he hissed and growled at her before jumping out of the second story window, with the glass shards killing a box of cute puppies.

After a quick cigarette break, White then ran into the middle of the road, causing a six-car pile up. Four people were killed and seven critically injured as a result. White carjacked a Fiat and was heard screaming, "You're not Sally! You're a Whooo-ah!" over and over as he drove off. Reports are sketchy from this point, but the trail of destruction speaks for itself. After running through a watermelon stand, a plate glass window being moved across the street, and a side of the road chicken coop, the Fiat's final resting place was at the base of three giant crosses that block out the sun. Witnesses describe that White had scaled the middle cross, which is four miles high, and was standing on the top shouting obscenities and throwing pennies at passersby, killing at least seven. Also killed by the lunatic were the first panda born in captivity, a leprechaun, and a talking unicorn. The gigantic flying dog from The Neverending Story was also critically injured. Atreyu could not be reached for comment.

White was finally talked down by authorities after they fulfilled his demands of a lifetime supply of Strawberry Chap-Stick, a Chick-Fil-A open on Sundays, and naked pictures of your mom. White's lawyer, and fellow bleeding heart asshole, Gloria Allred doesn't think her client will see any jailtime. "It is obvious Mr. White came down with a case of temporary insanity," she lied. White did give a brief statement before heading to the bathroom, "I am innocent. A one-armed man framed me. I think he said his name was Turk. Oh yeah, your mom is totally hot."

Pain Don't Hurt

Most people are raised by their parents, siblings, church, or the streets. I was raised by HBO. I learned my life lessons from watching movies and there are three movies that I continue to base my life upon their teachings. They are Revenge of the Nerds, Roadhouse, and Billy Madison. These three movies basically encompass my entire behaviour and have molded me into the person you know today. Most people think I am kidding when I say this, but I am dead fucking serious.

When I was seven years old, I stayed the summer at my Dad's bachelor condo. He was busy working or chasing ass during the day, so I had a neighbor whore drop by and check on me every once and a while. Instead of enjoying the fun things of summer, ie: the lake or pool, I would be perched in front of the tube learning about how stupid cats are or how there was a planet of homosexuals called Eternia. At noon, there wasn't anything on, so everyday for three months, I watched a Revenge of the Nerds tape. Revenge taught my young self many important lessons. For example, it got me to begin thinking about college, that it was okay to be a smart kid that looked younger than everyone else, that you can pour beer in Cheerios, and the term bush. The most important lesson I learned that is one of my personal tenets to this day is that no matter what a dude looks like or acts like, no matter who he hangs out with or how he dresses - if that dude is the most superb pussy eater he can be, he can get any chick, anytime, from any other dude. Especially if you're cunnilinguing that chick in the Moonwalk or other inflatable building. Go Tri-Lambs!!!

When I was twelve and dealing with the upcoming pressures of adolescence, I was given the divine guidance of Roadhouse. On the surface, this movie looks like a shitty Swayze bar fighting flick. Oh no, you must peel Roadhouse like a cinematic onion. It is fucking deep. It taught me that cooler heads prevail, that good shit talking is always better than kicking ass, and to always "be nice." More than that it showed me that a man cannot put up with the Brad Wesleys of the world. You must stand up for your beliefs, or a monster truck will drive through your business. It also taught me that if you rip a dude's throat out in a fit of rage in front of your smart doctor girlfriend, she'll forgive you and fuck you in the same water you used his body as a raft in. The thing I took most from it is another personal mantra, "I'll get all the sleep I need when I'm dead." Beautiful, Me-ho.

When I was a lad of eighteen and getting ready to face the big, bad world on my own, I found a small indie movie called Billy Madison. This is my favorite movie ever and taught me that being drunk all day is cool and to watch out for penguins trying to fuck my girl. It changed my life by showing me that it was alright to be retarded - and that people can make a good living acting that way. I probably quote this movie somewhere between 7-9 times per day. Any situation that comes up in your life can be related back to a scene in Billy Madison. Shampoo is bettah!!!

For more information about these three wonderful movies, please go to your local library or write your congressman today.

Postscript: Favorite Roadhouse truisms:

Nobody ever wins a fight.

Don't ever marry an ugly woman, she'll suck the life right out of ya.

I used to fuck guys like you in prison.

That gal's got entirely too many brains to have an ass like that.

STEVE: Being called a cocksucker isn't personal?

DALTON: No. It's two nouns combined to elicit a prescribed response.

The Double Douche!

Your Vagina is Perfectly Safe

The state of our social affairs saddens me (ie: pisses me off). Take Friday night for example. I was at a bar and had zero intentions of hooking up with anyone. I just wanted to have a good time, drink some liquids, and talk a little shit. However, when I go to talk to a lady, we cannot have a decent conversation because she is wasting so much energy in trying to keep my dick out of her orifices. But the problem is, I don't want to fuck her at all, I just wanna hang out and shoot the shit. Having an aptitude for writing, I am naturally interested in people's stories and backgrounds. Real life is much stranger than fiction and you wouldn't believe some of the wacky shit people get themselves into. Very entertaining and inspiring. Realizing that I had to break this wall of cockblockery from a woman's mind to really talk to her and hear her story, I tried a little social experiment at the bar.

I was talking to this one girl and I could tell she thought all I wanted to do was be balls deep in her ass. So whenever she would say she was into something, like midget tossing, I would respond, "Oh, my girlfriend really loves midget tossing too." Thinking that if the chick thought I had a girlfriend, she would loosen up a bit and we could have an interesting conversation. It worked a little bit, but the girls still thought I was skeezy AND a philanderer. By this time, I was super drunk and decided to take the experiment to the next level. The next chick I went up to was beating dudes off with a stick. She was cute as hell, and didn't really fit in with all the other Snake Girls. I sat down, starting talking and she was a bit aloof. I then told her she had nothing to worry about and gave her a gay wink. You know what, once she thought I was a cock jockey, she totally opened up. Shit, by the end of the night, she gave me a big hug, told me she loved me, and that I was super cute. What the fuck!

My Left Foot.... is Insane

I was taking a dump last night and I guess I shifted my weight, because the nerve in my left foot that leads to the toe beside the big toe (probably a name for that toe, must check that out) started going crazy. The pain was unbearable and it felt like the toe had popped out of the socket. I lifted my foot and the toe hung there like the dick of an old man who is out of Viagra. I gritted through the pain to finish my "business" and tried walking without much success. My whole left foot was going bat shit crazy. I was the opposite of Daniel Day Lewis in that movie I never saw; everything worked but my left foot. The only pain I have felt similar to this is a sex cramp. Dudes, you know when you are totally going balls to the wall on a girl and doing some crazy acrobatic shit - and then all the sudden it feels like someone has harpooned the arch of your foot? It felt like that times a million. Luckily, I had my ball gag, so I bit down of that for half an hour until the horrible feeling went away and my Parkinson's foot went back to just being dope. I realize that this is the type of shit I have to look forward to by getting older. I just hope medical science invents a less intrusive way of checking prostates before I turn 40. I do not look forward to having some doctor's fucking hand elbow deep in my ass checking for polyps. Fuck that.

Barbecued Hummus: The Ms. Jackson Saga

I would like to tell you boys and girls a story about one of my new best pals, Ms. Jackson. She is super fucking cool, (I'm just super cool, if you need a benchmark) and is one of the most fun people to hang out with I've ever met. I can't wait to hang out with her and Diego at the same time; I may have a good time overdose. She's also one of those people that have their own gravitational pull. After a few minutes of talking to her, you are drawn in and really want to hear what she has to say. To top it all off, besides my sweet porkchop granny, she is the nicest, most genuine person I have met. So to recap: Super fucking cool, fun as hell, very interesting, super sweet, and for some reason, enjoys hanging out with this asshole. Oh yeah, she also has chronic flatulence. How's that for character development?

One day after work last week, we went out to meet Ms. Jackson's cousin, Jem (she's totally outrageous!). MJ wanted us to meet because she thought we would get along and have some good times. We met and Jem is also super fucking cool (and super fucking sexy, heh). After meeting her, I wondered if Ms. Jackson's family possessed a super fucking cool gene and it was passed on through hereditary means. Anyway, we had a blast and I ended up telling my anal sex disaster story (Don't Drunk Fuck a Girl on Extacy) for some reason or another. They really enjoyed it and for a moment I considered joining the circus and traveling the land as a professional storyteller. Later on, MJ totally smoked me in pool and what was left of my dignity is now on display at some dive pool hall. I did reclaim it at lunch a few days later by owning her and Super Trooper in a couple games of cut-throat.

Friday, MJ & I left work early and went to the bar to discuss a little business venture we are trying to start up. As we walked in the bar, she told me, "You know, we don't always have to drink." I thought, oh shit, she thinks I am a total lush (which is true); but she was saying that because she assumed I thought SHE was a total lush (which she totally is). We had a good laugh, but it was a foreboding and foreshadowing moment for the events to come. We were having some drinks and coming up with some kick ass ideas when all of the sudden, she suggested we take a spontaneous road trip. I was super psyched, as it has been years since I have done that, but MJ is smarter than me and decided that the combined $50 we had to our names wasn't gonna cut it. I can always tell when she is getting drunk. She is always eating salsa and the drunker she gets; the more salsa ends up on her than in her mouth. As you know, I am food phobic and that bleeds into how I cannot stand to get food on me. I am napkin crazy and wipe my mouth and hands after every fucking bite. Damn, I am weird. Little did I know, this was another foreshadowing moment.

We were talking about our pals and she wanted to meet the Elkins Mafia. I called Bocephus and made plans to go out to their pad. A few minutes later, I noticed MJ was slurring like a motherfucker and started to talk in incoherencies. She said she needed to go home and I thought that was a pretty good idea. However, she was in no condition to walk, much less drive, so I told her I'd drive her home in Sally and take her back to her car the next morning. That did not go over well and we argued in the parking lot for an eternity. Finally, I just drove her car to her house and would worry about finding my way back to my car later. However, I didn't know where she lived, and she did not think that it was important to tell me directions, so I drove around town forever before we finally found her house. When we got there, she was telling me about her hammock and how she really wanted to lay in it. I told her it was a bad idea since it had just rained and the fucking thing looked like a swamp. She did not heed my warnings and laid down in the marsh anyway, which soaked her from head to toe. She went inside and changed into the craziest fucking outfit I've ever seen. It reminded me of a little girl raiding her mother's closet. That's when she broke out the beansprouts (which I promise was really a Chia pet) and hummus. Her sloppy eating skills ensured that she was covered in hummus and then she broke out the barbecue sauce and poured a gallon of it on some health nut tortilla. Her hand looked like that priest's from Indiana Jones when he ripped that dude's heart out. Then she decided she wanted to give me a hug for being her "best friend ever." So I had this barbecue sauce and hummus covered creature coming at me like the shower lady in The Shining. I was bobbing and weaving like Ali trying to dodge this thing from a Romero movie. I successfully rope-a-doped her and tired her out.

Then she started speaking fluent French. She told me the next day she can't speak French, but I took enough of it in school to understand bits of her tirade. She also told me of her God, Panasonic and how remote controls make the decision for her on how she should fix her hair each day (her finger also comes into play in the decision. What?) She also asked me to write of this incident, so here you go. After she laid in the hammock again and ruined her second ensamble of the night, I knew it was time for me to get the fuck out of there. I called the cab (remember, there is only one cab in Arkansas) and bid her farewell and waited in the front yard. The cab passed me up and I channeled my inner Flo-Jo to do a 100-yard dash in record time. I got home and looked at myself and I was indeed covered in hummus and BBQ sauce; my previous dodging efforts were in vain. My adventures in babysitting had tired me out, so I went to bed before midnight for the first time in a long time. However, we were going to Jem's house on Saturday because she was having a party for her husband's co-workers. I was planning my payback, because nobody outdrunks the TB and gets away with it.

We arrived at Jem's house - wait, farm - the next day and it was a kick-ass spread. One of those places that you can literally have sex with nature. It was awesome. Jem's super sexiness was confirmed as she has a grotto, ala Hef. Sweet! I met her husband and he was super fucking cool too. I like to meet super fucking cool people, but damn, when it was the four of us, I was the lamest one since I haven't reached super fucking cool status yet. That sucked and now I know how the rest of you people feel when you're hanging out with me. Soon others started showing up and I wasn't the lamest for too long. Yay. I had brought a 12-pack of brew and immediately started pounding them. I was in a mental race with MJ to get drunker faster, so the events of the previous night would be flipped. I won.

After a few folks started showing up, Ms. Jackson's parents, MR. & MRS. Jackson (clever) showed up. They too were super fucking cool and it confirmed that the super fucking cool gene does exist. I had fun getting drunk and talking to them. I kept telling MRS. Jackson I was gonna totally make out with her and it threw her for a loop at first, but later on, she was having fun with it. After everyone left, Jem's husband showed me this graphic novel one-shot that was fucking amazing and beautiful. It seriously was a profoundary. I've got to get him to draw my super dope comic I have written in my brain. So I was the drunk one this night and Ms. Jackson had to drive me. Fuck yeah! She drove Sally like shit, but I didn't care as she fell in love with Blue October AND had a coke for me.

So children, that is the story of Ms. Jackson. I have a feeling that she will be a recurring character in these dumb ass writings and I am super glad for that. I sure use the adjective "super" a lot, eh? Maybe I should ask for a thesaurus for my birthday.

Dammit, Jim!

I personally think that those little Bluetooth earpieces everyone is wearing around are fucking stupid looking. You couldn't look like more of a dork in my eyes when you are wearing that shit. So far the trend really hasn't pissed me off; just looks dumb. However, now it is starting to get me riled up and I'll tell you why. A couple of times this week, I've been be-boppin' down the hall and see a coworker. I'll say, "what up, motherfucker," or something to that extent, and they'll give me an annoyed look and point to their gay-ass earpiece; in essence telling me, "Oh my God, you are so rude for interrupting my super important conversation!" Fuck you, how the fuck do I know you're on the damn phone?! Lt. Uhura looking motherfuckers. I hope those fucking earpieces give you syphilis of the fucking ear canal.

Poopballs

I must have been sheltered as a child because the most common sense things that all of you know, I do not. For instance, a few years ago I tried to heat up a pizza by throwing it - box and all - into the oven. Needless to say, I just about burned the apartment down. Last night, I had a similar experience and ruined my plumbing. Last night, I learned what most 5 year olds know: All cat litter is not flushable.

Right before I was heading off to bed, I decided to dump some of the cat shit out of the box. I had just changed the litter the other day, but this cat shits like 400 times a day. It is ridiculous the amount of shit this small animal produces. So I started scooping poopballs into the toilet and when I went to flush, we had a total overflow situation. Somehow I knew how to turn the water off and that stopped the deluge of shitty water from flooding the house. The problem now is how to unclog the toilet. I don't own a plunger, never had a need for one. (I take very dainty poops) My procrastinating self told me to fucking close the lid & deal with it tomorrow - but the thought of the shitty water festering all night and day was just too much, so I headed off in search of a plunger at 11:35pm.

There is a grocery store a few blocks from Casa de Turk and I was in luck because they were open. However, they did not sell plungers, so I had to face my fears and go to the dreaded Wal-Mart. The horror!!! I pulled into the Wal-Mart and as I was walking to the door, I was taken aback by the poor souls who shop at Wal-Mart; ie: Your run of the mill, bottom of the barrel weirdoes. I took a deep breath and entered the most evil store ever. I saw a dead old woman propped up in a Rascal shopping scooter and then she said, "Welcome to Wal-Mart", and I about shat myself. Methuselah's wife was a greeter on the graveyard shift. She looked like she'll be seeing nothing but a graveyard very soon. After I walked through the three zip codes this Wal-Mart (not so) Super Center encompassed, I finally found the plunger aisle. Yes, an aisle for plungers. I grabbed one and made my way the four miles back to the front. Just as I arrived at the cashier, the midnight bell sounded. Shift Change!!! So I got to hang out for about 10 minutes while a new cashier did all the bullshit one must do to be cashier at the Mart.

I got home with the mighty plunger and braved myself for the horror that lay underneath the closed lid. The sight was an assault to my eyes and let's not even try to remember the smell. I gritted my teeth and went in to plunge. Instead of the FWOOSH sound the plunger usually makes, I heard a disappointing THWIP. The plunger did not plunge - it just stuck in the convex position. Fucking Wal-Mart bullshit. Luckily, my ordeal had taken over an hour and by the time I returned home, the clog had dissolved and when I tried flushing, it went right down. I should've procrastinated and everything would've worked out. I have another bathroom, so what the fuck. I've learned two valuable lessons.

About 1am, I was finally finished with the clean up and went to sit on the couch to contemplate how I tend to fuck everything up. The cat came up and I told him he was a lot of fucking trouble. To which he responded by taking a huge dump.

Closing the Gender Gap

I just discovered a common bond between men and women that I have to share. It may just blow your mind and solve all problems that stem from sexism. I was talking to a pregnant girl and a non-pregnant girl. I was telling the pregnant girl that her belly looked like a third boob because her belly button is now an outie; which makes it look like a big nipple on a big boob. She told us that all preggo's get an outie and I was like, hey, at least now you can clean the shit out of there. The other girl said, "Sean, it's called a Q-Tip. Use that." I went on to explain to them that when I stick a Q-Tip down my belly button, it shoots a weird electrical pain down to my dick. Like it feels like someone is sticking connected jumper cables down my spooge spitter. It's kinda kinky, but too uncomfortable for a long duration.

Of course, they were mortified by my candor, but after they swallowed the vomit that had come up into their mouths, they said, "I know exactly what you are talking about. Sticking shit in our belly buttons sends a strange pain to our farginas." Then we were like, holy shit, a commonality between the sexes we never knew existed. It makes me wonder what other weird shit we have in common. I'll start. I like to have sex with girls, do girls like to do that too?