Monday, December 29, 2003

I am off for Cleveland tomorrow, which in turn is the first leg of my trip to Washington D.C. for New Years Eve. There is a very good chance that I will either die, be incarcerated or abducted by aliens in the coming week. If by chance I do survive and make it back to Ohio unscathed, or at least relatively so, expect an entertaining recap of my adventures.

Here is to me getting drunk off cheap champagne, sniffing coke off a prostitute's bum and running naked through the nations capital.

Ok......maybe only two out of three. I am definitely opting for expensive champagne this year.

Go To Hell

Friday, December 26, 2003

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas/Chrimbo/Xmas/Bobsgiftday. If you don't celebrate this holiday...well you are probably going to hell but I hear heaven is overrated anyway.

I am thinking about becoming a political pundit when I grow up. All one needs to succeed is the inablility to recognize the worth of anyone else's opinion. Pretty sure I can handle that.

Go To Hell

Tuesday, December 23, 2003

Below is why I hate people, especially those who have a stick up their ass. Since you can't view the book in question I will describe it. It was a collection of pamphlets published by a, now defunct, glass company over fifty years ago. Copyright law is not applicable in this case so even those with anal cavity-clamping-on-wood problem shouldn't say a word.

I hope this guy dies, several times if possible. Oh and read from the bottom up so it makes sense.



As you have learned, I feel very strongly about copyright issues, which have not been exaggerated as you imply in this situation. My rights and privileges as an American citizen can only be assured if I recognize and respect the rights of others.

I submit that this item was misrepresented by your description. The very act of offering a book for sale requires that it be a legitimate, legal publication. However, as we have agreed, this was merely a facsimile of the original.

I wanted the book (original, of course). As you may have noticed, I did not ask for a refund. However, as you can not or will not provide the original, I must request a full refund. So, again, I find myself at your mercy. I will return the book today and must trust that you will return my money. Please do so in a timely manner.

I would also suggest that you do the honorable thing and destroy all illegal copies of this book. The law on this matter is clear and does not require that you be an "expert" on copyright issues. As a matter of fact, prosecution does not even require that you be aware of the law as ignorance is not a justifiable defense. However, as this email exchange will show, you are now aware and any claims to the contrary would constitute willful ignorance.

Please send a refund for the total of $61.15 immediately upon receipt of the book in question.
-----Original Message-----
From: Ralph C. Wilson [mailto:ppac@alltel.net]
Sent: Monday, December 22, 2003 11:53 AM
To: Kirk Broach - rr
Subject: Re: eBay Item: Erickson Glass Catalog Identification Book (Item #3159932225)


Sir I never listed this book as an original as I purchased several "copies" at an auction almost two years ago. In no way did I misrepresent the item. If you read my terms and conditions I do offer a full refund if my description was misleading or incomplete. Frankly I don't believe it was either of those but it is possible that you read between the lines and thought you were purchasing an original. Therefore I will send you a refund, contingent of course on my item being shipped back.

As to copyright laws I do not claim to be an expert though most people who do so tend to be exaggerating. I did not make copies with express intent to resale, as I already stated these were bought at an auction. At one time I did own the original which sold for several hundred dollars and was listed as such. That book was bought by a collector as a shelf piece while these "copies" have been sold with idenitification purposes in mind not as original works.

Finally the disparity in shipping prices is an unfortunate occurence that happens quite frequently on Ebay. Usually I ship exclusively via UPS and the price I quoted would have been accurate for said service. Occasionaly I do use the post office and sometimes I ship first class mail when there is no difference between time in transit between it and Priority Mai. Unlike many sellers I do not try to gauge buyers on shipping, more often then not I lose a dollar or two per shipment. Yet, sometimes I make a mistake and do break even or even make a buck or two. Anyway it is a moot point and I do apologize.

If you do wish a full refund please send the Catalog to

Ralph Wilson
14 N. Park Place
Newark, Ohio 43055

----- Original Message -----
From: Kirk Broach - rr
To: Ralph C. Wilson
Sent: Sunday, December 21, 2003 5:19 PM
Subject: RE: eBay Item: Erickson Glass Catalog Identification Book (Item #3159932225)


I received the Ericson "Catalog" yesterday and am not happy. Based on your Ebay description, copied below for your convenience, I was bidding on an original catalog/book. The book was implied to be original by your statement that it is "very rare to find any information or books on the type of glass" and the fact that you did not state that it was copied. However, I received what is clearly a copy of an original which you have kept. This is evidenced by white borders on each page, and images of dog-eared corners on pages which have never been folded. Furthermore, I became suspicious of this possibility when you listed another book exactly like the one which I purchased, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt and waited for my book to arrive.

In addition, my winning bid for this book was $56.00. When I asked for shipping charges, you responded with a total of $61.15. I was suprised that mailing this book through the USPS could possibly cost $5.15 but again, I gave you the benefit of doubt and waited for the book to arrive. Postage is clearly marked as $1.52.

Please note that this ebay auction is a binding legal contract between you, Ralph C. Wilson of Newark, Ohio and me. To resolve this matter, the original should be sent IMMEDIATELY.

Are you familiar with the federal copyright laws? Copyright is a protection provided for published and unpublished works which gives the author exclusive rights to reproduce and distribute copies of that work. It is illegal to violate these rights afforded only to the owner of the copyright. Do you claim to own the copyright to this book? Do you even know who does?

If you do not resolve this matter quickly, by sending me the original book which I now rightfully own and by destroying all illegal copies of this book, I will be compelled to report this clear violation of copyright laws to the United States Copyright Office.

"Erickson Glass Catalog Identification Book with 12 pages of identification to erickson glass. Show how it was made and show several salesman sample item. Made up of different sheets which salesmen would take orders from. Very rare to find any information or books on the type glass. Measures 11" by 8 1/2" with a hard plastic cover. "

Sincerly,
Kirk Broach

Friday, December 19, 2003

Christmas is less than a week away and I am miserable. Tis the season to be jolly? What for? I saw an old high school crush earlier this week. It was not nice to see her. In fact it was very disheartening to even engage in small talk with her. I found myself contemplating the effects of a large boulder falling on her head and how that would bring a brief, albeit intense, joyous feeling. Today I had the distinct pleasure of conversing with my high school physics teacher. I feebly attempted to lie about my life and successes but ultimately she saw through my ruse. I guess saying your best friend is a seven year old psychopath is not terribly positive revelation. Well at least Saddam the pussy-rat was captured. I find some solace in that fact however, I would have preferred that he was discovered gutted with his genitalia placed in his mouth. Maybe just maybe if Santa is reading this blog entry, or truly does have god-like powers of omniscience, he will make that happen. If he is reluctant to commit himself to the cause vigilante justice, I wouldn't be disappointed if he brought me a nubile twenty-two year old, blue-eyed, blonde haired, amply bosomed virgin lady for Christmas.

One can hope

Go to hell

Sunday, December 07, 2003

I am lonely. I need to be loved, held and cuddled. I am looking for a girl who can take care of these needs. I don't mind if you are fat, stupid, ugly, retarded, or even smelly. In fact those qualities might actually endear you to me since all my needs are supplemented by a great desire to feel superior to others.
If the thought of being Bob's love-doll doesn't disgust you please contact me.

Jews need not apply since they are all hell-bound heathens.

I kid.

Ok not really but I don't want anyone thinking I am an anti-Semite like my friend Pete.

(Inside Joke that isn't terribly funny but even a cheap laugh is worth alienating all the moneylenders and Hollywood producers of the world)


Go to Hell

(Where I will be very soon)

(Using () to denote unrelated material, whimiscal insights and retarded sentiments is annoying I need to stop)

(But I won't)

(So)

(Go To Hell)

(God I am brilliant (not so much brilliant but definitely gifted(in a little yellowbus sort of way(waited that doesn't even make since. retards are "special" not gifted)))

Monday, December 01, 2003

My ego is out of whack. According to Freud a healthy ego is necessary to balance out the opposing forces of the id and superego. I blame my parents for raising me so poorly. Oh and least I forget society which helped warp my psyche into a delusional mess. In order to stave off further madness I decided to take radical action. Therefore from now on please call me Robert Robertson.

Go To Hell
I am tired, not physically mind you but mentally. Not caring about anything or anyone has taken its toll. Whereas I once thought shutting everything out would be easier then facing reality; now I know it is so much more difficult. I am not bitching, moaning or even ranting about my apathy but instead am lamenting how much has gone by. The world waits for no man and he who stands still most definitely is left behind. I regret not caring and have started to wonder if I ever did. My parents have commented on my selfish behavior for years, as have many friends, and if anyone would know it would be they. Yet now I don't even care about number one. The only meaningful thing in my life is life itself. I exist. No more, no less. I was never a go getter; in fact I usually let everything come to me. Everything from learning to a social life was never an active concern. Luckily I was blessed with an inordinate amount of luck which translated into being surrounded by high quality people who provided a very interesting life. I have little to regret. Perhaps it was only meaningless fun but the stories I have are sure entertaining. I was never mistaken for an heir to Jonas Salk yet in an oh so unique way did I find meaning in life. At this point that is not enough. Truly I wonder if the past is ever enough.

The path I followed inevitably led down a lonely, quiet road. I am not sad about who I am but am disappointed in what I have become. A friend of mine posted his theory on the major religions. Several people in response critically commented on his post. It was an example of relevant debate, or as relevant as a post and subsequent comments can be on a web log. Ultimately I found merit in each argument but felt there was much left unsaid. For a moment I felt the desire to critique, expound upon, and reflect. Sadly those feelings rapidly dissipated. I once loved thinking about religion. Nothing else can inspire such fervor in many while simultaneously drawing the ire of many more. It is the dream topic of conversation for those select few who enjoy arguing for arguments sake. Now it seems so very unimportant.

I am not sure how exactly one goes about conditioning the self to be numb but I am very aware it can be done. There is a solution to my predicament, whether it is simple or grandiose is the question. I tried waking up and saying today is a new begging only to find myself shortly realizing it was just another day. Volunteering, working or even just engaging others in conversation may be enough. Thus far it remains to be seen. I do know that regret is a dual edged sword. One can be cut by what they haven't done as surely as by what they have. Reluctantly I must admit a certain respect for those people who dare to be stupid, traversing haphazardly through life facing both success and failure in equal strides. My hubris is based upon knowing what not to do and daring not to do it.

Who knows maybe I am just crazy or perhaps the strong stench of urine emanating from Hamster's cage has finally gone to my head.

Thursday, November 20, 2003

I am the hamster god. The littler critter worships me. Every time I put food in the cage Hamster, which is the hamster's name, carefully sniffs my fingers and watches me with unabashed admiration. Sometimes I catch him starting in my direction, as if his saying with eyes Bob is the most masterful of masters. I should go to the pet store and purchase more potential disciples. The human world may very well have forsaken me but Hamster knows the truth. His admiration leads to my adulation. Who knew that deification could lead to such happiness.

Go to Hell

unless you are a small furry rodent

Sunday, November 16, 2003

I decided to become a stalker. Who knows it may be you and if so please do not call the police, at least not until I break into your room.

Not a whole lot going on with me. November has been a wash, much like October before it as well as September, August, July, June well you get the point. Perhaps New Years will provide some much needed excitement. I am considering a trip to either Chicago or D.C. at end of December. My college friends/worst enemies will be there and when we get together things turn ugly. Women are accosted, trees are torn asunder, children lay crying in their beds all the while copious amounts of alcohol are consumed. It could be fun especially considering the alternative of spending the holidays sequestered in the trailer watching cartoon network marathons.



Go to hell

Tuesday, October 28, 2003

From now on all questions asked here are to be considered rhetorical in nature. So please do not answer them.

I was chatting, in an AOL IM chat room, with a friend of mine who moved several hundred miles away. He invited a friend from home to join our conversation. Said friend made a comment about wanting child-type footy pajamas and I happened to remark had she been abused as a child. It seems levity is not my strong point, as she in fact had been abused by her father. Well, if the helpful advice from earlier doesn't pan out I can always pursue a career in heckling.

go to hell

Monday, October 27, 2003

I need to get a life . The last several months have went by in a blur. Usually that occurs when one is busy, engaging life to its fullest. That doesn't apply to my situation. Somehow I have managed to turn tedium on its head and created a vacuum where time moves at rapid albeit tortuously monotonous rate.

I am opening up the floor to all of you. Please give me some suggestions as to what I should do with my life.
go to hell

Devil-Goat

I feel like writing tonight, so all six of you who read this should feel honored to experience this rare treat.

I am fairly sure that a goat, who is the minion of Satan, lives underneath my trailer. Nearly one year ago, I first caught a glimpse of Devil-Goat. Of course, a week later, my parents, and girlfriend discovered that goat was really a possum. I tried to believe them but deep down the truth was undeniable. Lucifer himself has taken up residence beneath my home. He is the Prince of Lies so it is reasonable to infer that he would shape shift into a possum in order to throw me off. I am not entirely certain why he chose to move underneath my humble abode but I am absolutely, unequivocally sure the Almighty Lord of Darkness is here. Perhaps he finds my pathetic lot in life rather enjoyable, and has taken up a ring side seat to viscerally experience Bob's everyday misery. The Fallen One is using me as his own personal reality show, one that provides twenty-four hour comic relief. Anyway, lets stop delving into my delusional, borderline schizophrenic story and move onto something else.

I miss my girlfriend, numero uno (there have been two total, I am pathetic) to be specific. She was the wonderful young lady who was ultimately way too good for Bob. I sabotaged our budding relationship by calling her while intoxicated very late at night. In particular, I shared a detailed account of how I wanted to bed a bar slut, but of course wouldn't because I was dating her. Not my best moment, not by far. We tried to rekindle our romance several months later, yet the spark was no longer there. I blame my then impending incarceration for treeacide that put way too much pressure on her. Who could possibly love a man who went on a drunken rampage that involved ripping small saplings out of the ground, I ask who? However, cruel fate did mark our paths to cross once again. After I started dating girlfriend numero dos, the love of my sad, miserable, pathetic, life started to show interest in me once again. Of course she only did this because I was dating a friend of hers, and my one true soul mate wanted to get back at her. Ultimately after I left girlfriend dos, the perfect human embodiment of bliss (at least for Bob) showed no more interest in me.

Woe is me. I really do miss her, though the past is in the past; so memories, fond as they may be, are fruitless to the heart.


Go to Hell

Sunday, October 26, 2003

I've spent the last three hours searching for jobs via monster & the local classified ads. I would like to do something with my life, find a job that gives it meaning but that seems highly unlikely. There is nothing out there that even remotely interests me and worse these jobs offer no financial incentive to sell my soul. I am all about Faustian economics but the Devil needs to hold up his end and offer some serious mullah if he wants my signature in blood. Sooner or later, more likely the latter, I will be homeless & unemployed. And, you know what? That is a far better life than the alternative. My life, be it meaningless and trite, at least offers the promise of future success. Odds are I will die penniless in a gutter wearing soiled tighty-whitees that stink of urine and chocolate ice cream but just maybe my crusade against working for corporate drones will lead to untold riches and unimaginable bliss.


Go to Hell
I hate telemarketers, marketing executives and credit card personnel.

More to come as to why I loathe these pond scum licking bastards later on this week.

Go to hell

Wednesday, October 22, 2003

Fuck you.

Go to Hell

Tuesday, October 21, 2003

Western society stands on a crumbling ledge overlooking oblivion. Who is to blame? Stupid people who have no foresight whatsoever. The middle class are jokes, while the wealthy managed to forget the punch line. At least my own personal failures pale in comparison to the colossal fuck-up we live in today. That provides some solace.

Go to hell

Saturday, October 18, 2003

I have lost my freaking mind. While watching an episode of MTV's stellar program Made something odd happened. I started to cry. I wish this was just a freak occurrence but it is not. Lately many things have brought tears to my eyes including an episode of Justice League, a short story about a vengeful vampire, and a particularly touching Blind Date. I wouldn't be so worried if the problem stopped at tears however that is not the case. I have been sleeping at minimum twelve hours every day, which is excess even by my slothful standards. My usual, healthy dose of apathy has of late blossomed into full blown Goth mania. Whereas I once stopped at not caring now I bemoan the entire basis of reality. In other words I am off my fucking rocker.

Anyway I just wanted to share with everyone and leave you with the following warning. Odds are that I am becoming a deranged psychopath and should be avoided. Take into the account the aforementioned insanity, add my well documented loathing of women, and mix it all together with my feelings of matricide (which is probably justified) and well you have a very scary individual. Though you are probably safe if you are not white, female, and under the age of twenty-five.

Go to hell

Friday, October 17, 2003

I just deleted my second attempt at a post this evening. I am finding it very difficult to properly articulate my feelings on the Kobe Bryant case and rape in general. It seems all those women studies classes finally caught up with me, as much as I want to rant on the inequity the law shows the accused in rape cases the greater historical inequity comes to mind. Women, who are by in the large the victims of rape (pedophilia aside) were subjected to centuries of unfair treatment by the Western judicial system. They were not only burdened with the horrific experience itself but also the guilt of being the cause of rape. They were the ones who were guilty, not the actual rapists themselves. I wish that wasn't so but history is already been written so the best thing I can do is learn from it. The problem is that many haven't learned from the past. I can't say that all rape cases favor the victim; in fact many do place an unreasonable burden on the accuser. See the idea of innocent until proven guilty is unfair from the outset to the victim. However, it works more often then not so I am willing to stick by it.

What constitutes rape? Instead of saying what it is, let me clarify what it is not.

Having a sexual liaison and then feeling guilty about it is not rape. A woman going to a bar with the intention of getting picked up, drinking too much and going home with a sketchy guy, who went to the bar with the same intention is not rape. Telling your sexual partner "you need to go home" and then deciding the next day that phrase is code for "No, stop it. You are raping me” is not rape. Giving your partner a "look" which is somehow signifies stop is not rape. Telling your partner to "put it half way in" and then he goes past that marker is not rape.

Those examples are not rape. And even if the law is not on my side, common sense sure as hell is. Even before the recent bombshells I believed Kobe Bryant was probably innocent. He is most definitely an idiot but most likely not a rapist. The recent legal proceedings were to determine if enough evidence existed to hold the case over for trial. While I am not a legal expert, that annoying habit to use common sense has led me to believe that there is virtually no evidence to warrant a trial. It is his word against hers and with all things being even that should not meet the burden of proof. Both sides have produced evidence, which seems to heavily favor the defense, yet putting it aside due to its inflammatory nature leads to one conclusion his word against hers. That is not enough for me. And it shouldn't be enough for you.


I am tempted to delete this post once again because even now it fails to truly encapsulate my viewpoint. What it comes down to is fairness, and whether trying to wipe away the sins of the past justifies committing equally despicable acts today.

Go to hell

Wednesday, October 15, 2003

I have been going through a rough spot of late. One of the few things in life that I find meaningful has lost that magic spark. I have enjoyed this activity for some thirteen years and it has meant the world to me. Throughout the bad times I could always count on it to see me through. Heck, it even managed to make the great times even better. All good things must come to an end; apparently what once provided profound joy is no more. Nothing can prepare you to lose such integral part of life; I can think is that it ended far too soon. One might wonder what act could mean so much to an obese, single, twenty-three year old man; those same people are considered functionally retarded. Anyway, I guess it is time to say goodbye. My once legendary (to me at least) libido is no more.

It is possible this is just another symptom of my impending and inevitable bout with diabetes. Or maybe I just did it too much. Performing any action in excess of ten-thousand times can lead to serious side effects, especially in such a relatively short period of time. Many eastern traditions, in particular Hindu schools of thought, believe that the seed of man contains his soul’s vitality. One must preserve as much as possible or risk an untimely demise. This would have been fine if I could have at least performed the act one last time right before my heart exploded. One can only wish.


Go to hell

Sunday, October 12, 2003

I had an enlightening conversation with dad today. We were discussing, well ok I was discussing as to whether Mary remained a virgin throughout her life. Dad agreed with my assertion that Mary must have fulfilled her wifely duties to Joseph and likely popped out a few Jesus-lites. Thinking the topic was over I proceeded to discuss OSU's defeat and how it was due to large part to Maurice Clarrett. Dad, bored with the OSU debacle, decided to further elaborate on his opinion of the Virgin Mary. First, he was very sure that she was not a virgin before the birth of Jesus. Either she was "knocked up" by Joseph or more then likely had a little fling on the side and in order to save her dignity created this whole "immaculate conception" story. He figured that she was anything but pure and most likely was a lady with questionable morals. Ok actually he referred to the Lord's mother as a whore.

While the above exchange was very entertaining, a part of me is very sad. Dad is now doomed to eternal damnation. I mean sure one can argue that Mary had children the old fashioned way after Jesus but to insinuate way she whored around with a Roman soldier just isn’t kosher.

This post is dedicated to my father and his blasphemous views. He might be going to hell but at least he is entertaining me along the way.



Go to hell

Thursday, October 09, 2003

I am dying. My stomach is both on fire and full of gas. That is a very volatile combination. As I sit here writhing in my chair a strange thought dawns on me. What have I accomplished in life? The answer of course is not a whole lot. Sure I have only lived twenty-three years and there is only so much one can do. However, Bob has somehow managed to do less than nothing. His life has been series of meaningless travesties. There were some good times like when I "borrowed' the maintenance van or that time I accidentally pushed a small dumpster down a very large hill. But for every speeding mass of metal there were two incidents involving women with breasts located under their arms. It feels like only yesterday when I "made out" with a woman who resembled an offensive lineman at Ohio State, or that time I paid two women to kiss me and one proceeded to mock my lack of tongue related abilities.

I am a miserable failure, and it is fitting that my demise will involve an exploding mass of shit.

At least I have one thing to look forward and you know what that is boys and girls? You are all going to hell.


Thank you and have a nice day.

go to hell

Sunday, October 05, 2003

I participated in a charity auction yesterday. It raised money for some artsy, fartsy festival downtown. Since most of the city is either illiterate or retarded I was surprised by the interest generated by the event. I am not sure what the final tally was, but at last count they made over $7,500, which was way beyond their expectations. As usual I did a fantastic job; perhaps auctioning truly is my calling in life. Then again I am still leaning towards becoming a serial killer when I grow up.

A couple weeks ago I started to really miss my ex-girlfriend(s). It was nice having someone to hold, take out to dinner, watch movies and dry hump. Of course those times are over and unlikely to happen again. At least I have my hamster to keep me company.

The following is directed towards all of you fine folk who find themselves in healthy, happy, loving relationships.

Go directly to hell, do not pass go and make damn sure to stick a rusty fork up your collective asses.

Oh and I envy you all very much.

Go to hell

Friday, October 03, 2003

I need a life. It is 3:47 am and I have only been up nine hours. I did not get out of bed until 7:00 pm. What the fuck is wrong with me? I am reenacting my sophomore year in college minus the copious amounts of alcohol. At least then I spent my nights in a drunken haze with an occasional bout of vandalism. Now I am pitiful a pile of mush who is literally sleeping his life away. What should I do about my current predicament? I could go to bed a normal hour and find satisfaction in the beauty of life. The world has so much to offer like unemployment, child starvation, murder, teenage pregnancy, herpes infested whores and a myriad of other wonderful things. I need to get piss assed drunk, rip out a few urinals and pass out in my own vomit.

At least then I will be happy........well ok not happy but so intoxicated that I won't care.

And, if being drunk, fat and stupid doesn't work out and I can always go with the alternative and shoot up a local Taco Bell. By the way they did not have fucking Mild Sauce for the second time in the last month. How in the hell can you run out of mild sauce, or frankly any sauce at Taco Bell....... I understand that collective intellect of the employees is about as great as a retarded monkey but still running out of MILD SAUCE is completely unacceptable, even by their low standards. Adding insult to injury was there cardboard sign in the drive through window, not only did appear to have been scrawled by a dyslexic chicken, the word sauce was misspelled. I am not sure if they were trying to create an amalgamation of sauce and salsa, or if they were retarded.

For the record "sause" is not correct.

Go to Hell

Wednesday, October 01, 2003

My love affair continues Hamster and I have become inseparable. Other then urinating all over my comforter, everything has been peachy keen. And, to stave off anymore "funny" comments regarding our relationship let it be known that is very possible for a man and furry little creature to have a loving, platonic life together.

It occurred to me that I am a little bitch. The following perfectly illustrates that point.

A cute, slightly chubby, local beauty pageant contestant came into the store asking for donations. If I gave her twenty-five dollars, she would put an ad in the program. Said advertisement would contain a blown up business card and her picture. I thought about it for a moment, she smiled at me and of course I wrote a check. What really surprised me though was the fact that I used my own checking account rather then father's. How the mighty have fallen, at least in the past I used other peoples money when approached/extorted by pretty girls. My dad found the situation quite humorous but did seem a bit proud when I explained the part about using my personal checking account.

The moral of the story is I am a complete and utter fool who enjoys being used by ladies, be it financially, emotionally, mentally and on rare occasion physically.



Go to Hell

Tuesday, September 30, 2003

I have a new friend. His name is Hamster. I really enjoy playing with him.

Just wanted to share.

go to hell

Saturday, September 27, 2003

Dear Middle America,

I once idolized you; in fact it was my dream to walk upon your golden paved roads. A world where riches were plentiful, work was meaningful; all the while life was surrounded by a white picket fence. I really believed in the American dream, and you know what? I am the butt of a colossal joke. The only thing at the end of the rainbow is a muddy puddle. It is on your backs that American culture is founded. You ultimately drive every market, be it commercial, social or other. That power has gone to your collective heads. Instead of innovation you settle for stagnation. You collect stuff, and more stuff until the house is full. And, then in your perverted wisdom, you buy a bigger house and fill it with even more useless stuff. It was once thought that you were the saviors of society, the cogs that drove capitalist machine, but in reality you are nothing but mindless lemmings that buy into everything and understand absolutely nothing. Money is the not of root of your evil, rather abject stupidity is the cause of your demise. The wealthy are greedy for more wealth, similarly the poor are as greedy for the wealth they do not have, but what about you? You are just as greedy as the wealthy, while equally as impoverished as the poor. You were supposed to embody the perfect American ideal, a life that allowed for modest luxury but tempered by a sense of fiscal restraint. The demagogues wonder why morality is a thing of yesteryear; well it is not hard to figure out. The modest live like tyrants, sitting upon their golden thrones demanding more all the while giving oh so little. You live well beyond your means and it shows in the children, a generation of spoiled brats who have the world at their fingers, who choose to spend their time emulating your meaningless decadence. Therefore this letter is my official resignation from the Middle American cause. I can't make it better, but I sure as well am not going to make it worse.


Go to hell
The wicked itch is dead. Turns out I had the mother of all yeast infections, which my entire body had a violent allergic reaction to. The cure may have been worse then symptoms. In order to diagnosis my condition the doctor had to stick his hand inside my anus.......I almost remarked that he should feel honored as he was the only the second person to have ever stuck an appendage in my rear, but decided against it. He then made out a prescription for a single pill. Said medication came in a small pink box that specifically stated it was used for vaginal discharges arising from yeast infections. So it seems my mother was right, I really am a giant pussy. Anyway, I feel much better now, even though my dad is probably going to kick me out within the next few days.... Battered women shelter here I come.




Go to hell

Friday, September 19, 2003

You are all whores to the man.


go to hell

Wednesday, September 17, 2003

Found a doctor, it is only going to cost 150.00 to have my ass examined. I had to beg and plead since I am not insured at the moment. I always thought cash was good, but guess you can't beat milking insurance companies who in turn fleece their customers. The cycle of life I guess.


anyway fuck you

and

got o hell

Tuesday, September 16, 2003

My ass still itches. I tried to set up a doctor’s appointment, and boy was that ever a fun experience. I tried to delicately detail my condition to a young nurse aid via the telephone. She asked "Can you see what the problem is?" and of course I had to inform him that it was nearly impossible for me to look in between my butt cheeks. The hilarity didn't end there though. After revealing my "condition" it was time to set up an appointment. However, I found out that it would be impossible for me to see the doctor since I had a delinquent bill. To be precise, I was not allowed to see the doctor under no circumstances.....WHAT THE FUCK??? I wanted to cry, not only did I have to discuss an itchy rectum with a young lady but also had to be informed I am a deadbeat who is not welcome at the premises under no circumstances whatsoever. FUCKING HORSE SHIT. I politely excused myself from the phone, and proceeded to question my father as to why I had a delinquent balance due to my doctor. My father did not know but stated in no uncertain terms it was my responsibility and he had more important things to worry about it. MY ASS FEELS LIKE A LEGION OF ANTS HAS TAKEN PERMANENT RESIDENCE UPON IT AND I CAN'T SEE MY DOCTOR BECAUSE I OWE HIM MONEY AND DAD DOESN'T THINK IT IS A BIG DEAL.................fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

Upon further reflection, and a subsequent call back to the doctors billing department I discovered that the bill in question should have been covered by my insurance at the time. Yet, for some reason my insurance company had me down as being married to my mother, born on my birth date but father to my little brother. In other words according to them I was part of a twisted incestual mess, which would be fine if they still covered my fucking doctor's visit. That is/was not the case, since they have me confused, in part, with my father they had me listed on his policy. Again if they paid the bill that would be fine, BUT NOOOOOOO THAT WOULD BE TOO EASY. In order to be covered under my father's plan I had to demonstrate collegiate attendance. Yet again that would be fine except the doctor's visit in question occurred one month after my graduation. Complicating things further I am no longer covered by the aforementioned insurance agency for other reasons/incompetence. Basically I am fucked, and have to pay the bill. With interest it is only sixty-five dollars so it is not a huge deal and actually one that I could even afford to pay myself. The problem is in order to pay it I have to go into the doctor's office, and after this circus I really never want to show my face there again. Furthermore even if I do pay there is no guarantee that the doctor will see me, as the billing agent inferred that our "business" relationship was all but severed. And, since the account was over a year late it had reported to one/all of the credit bureaus........


Boys and girls I am an asshole, and for the most part I have reaped what I sowed in this life. But, Jesus Christ there is bad karma and there is situation. God/Krishna/Satan/Azhamda/Babli/My Mom/Buffy must really hate me....... I officially give up. My only options left are to the do ignoble thing and shoot all you fuckers or be noble and fall on my own butter knife.


In other words

GO TO HELL


P.S.

IF TODAYS FREQUENT USE OF CAPS LOCK OFFENDS
GO TO HELL

IF YOU FIND MY LACK OF GRAMMER DISHEARTENING
FUCKING SHOOT YOURsELF IN THE HEAD

AND IF FOR WHAT EVER REASON YOU HAVE A HARD TIME FOLLOWING TODAY’S POST
GO TO HELL, FUCKING SHOOT YOURSELF IN THE HEAD AND KNOW THAT I HATE YOU VERY MUCH.

Monday, September 15, 2003

I am a seventy year old man trapped in a twenty-three year old body. The other day I spoke for over an hour with an elderly gentleman about the sad state of society. The majority of the conversation was very one-sided as I pontificated about the fall of the West. The old man agreed completely with my acid laced observations, and remarked on my maturity. I will spare you the intimate details of our conversation, but it must be said that I had a lot in common with the social security eligible man. What does this mean? Well, basically it means I have fifty more years of bitching to look forward to. You may have always suspected that I am a bitter man but who would have thought a bitter old man.

At least I don't need to use viagra.....well ok maybe sometimes but only when I am really nervous....

Go to hell

Sunday, September 14, 2003

It is true, I am an asshole. And, while I am on the subject of assholes, mine still feels like I wiped it with poison oak toliet paper. I bought various anti-itch cremes which, as I typed this post, are starting to work. My butt has become completely numb. I could actually get used to this feeling, or more precisely lack thereof. Not much else to talk speak to tonight, so in lieu of nonchoherent rambling I am off to bed. Hopefully the bum will remain numb throughout the night because constantly greasing it up with various cremes is not my cup of tea. (damn commas who needs them)


Oh, I almost forgot my favorite European sexpot made into the States A-Ok. She best better have a great time while here.


go to hell

Saturday, September 13, 2003

My ass itches. It feels like there are thousand miniature midgets squirming between my butt cheeks. I mean it did feel good for like six hours but still. Based on previous experiences I am fairly sure it is a yeast infection. ........ Well, my anus is very hairy and moist so bacterial growth should be expected. Of course if the maddening itching continues I will be forced to visit my family doctor and boy should that be fun.

"Hey Doc my ass itches. I am pretty sure it is a yeast infection. Sure, I understand you have to see to make sure. Well, uh yea I know that good bodily hygiene is important and from now I will make sure to properly wipe my butt after pooping. Thank you for all your help sir and I am sure that smell will come off your fingers very soon."


It could be worse at least my groin was spared the unbearable miniature midget assault.

Go to hell

Friday, September 12, 2003

I had an extremely witty post, then I pushed shift and another key. Not really sure what the key was but I do know the result. EVERYTHING FUCKING THING WAS DELETED AND FOR SOMEONE REASON I AM UNABLE TO UNDO IT. So, this means I AM FUCKING PISSED.

GOD DAMN COMPUTERS. I tell you if it wasn't for tentacle related animated porn I would have written off those Japs long ago. Oh wait I was talking about the blog...but still damn Japanese.

go to hell

Thursday, September 11, 2003

I have an interview tomorrow for a job that is right around the corner from my previous employeer/Satan. The job requires working in a call center and answering medical insurance questions. It is very similar to working at the credit card company but does not involve fleecing money from elderly folk. This time I get to explain what benefits they get before dying rather then pestering/killing them as I did before. Anyway wish me luck.

A 300+ lbs man today commented that I better watch out or soon I will be bigger then him. Boy that sure made me feel great. Repulsive fat man points out I will soon be his lard ass successor. Well, at least I will be recognizable for something beyond my freakishly large head.

Well, I am getting tired, just ate two gigantic platefuls of spagheti, which really takes it out a man. Until next time.


go to hell

Wednesday, September 10, 2003

I am fat. No, actually I am morbidly obese. No, I am wrong again. Bob is a fucking lard ass. I stepped on the scales yesterday and felt like I was in a Garfield cartoon. The digital scale seemed to moan before revealing that I weigh more then a baby elephant. Living la vida gorda has been fun but it is time for a change. Of course I have already made similar sentiments several times since starting this Blog, but hell who knows maybe I will luck out and develop intestinal cancer. We can hope.

There is so much to talk about, and I have so little inclination to do so. Someone discovered my AOL IM name and felt the need to mock me. Usually, I wouldn't give two shits however this time it was personal. Whoever has been messaging me really knows how to push my buttons. He/She/It/Cocksucker knew my intimate insecurities, mainly my lack of writing talent. Obviously I am a brilliant writer, albeit a little rough around the edges. My editing skills leave much to be desired, yet Bob's style and substance more then make up for grammatical weakness. Nonetheless, I was forced to block this person's messages as they were taking a toll. You may ask, what does this mean to me? Or, more to the point why the fuck do I care? It means my confidence, concerning writing, was severely rocked. In other words instead of posting on my blog, or more importantly fleshing out an idea I had for a novella, Bob decided to be a bitch and sulk. Well screw that shit. Mes, mights, write; like a fcknig fours yar eld but I am still a witty son of a bitch. So, baring further emotional breakdowns my post should once again be fairly frequent. Also, I am toying with the idea of embracing my inner twelve year old girl and adding a creative writing section to the site. God, I am a little bitch. My manly factor has dipped to dangerous levels. Need to go look at some porn, eat pizza and masturbate into a watermelon.

By the way my favorite British Sex Kitten is visiting the States once again, so yes Virginia there really is a Santa Claus. Hopefully she will honor Ohio with her presence. A boy can hope.

Go to hell joe12533

Tuesday, August 26, 2003

The E channel is the second greatest television experience available, next to of course my precious cartoon network. True Hollywood Story is E's staple show. It is an incredibly vapid, mind numbing and yes entertaining as hell serial. Tonight the show exceeded even its low standards and presented The Real World True Hollywood Story. First and foremost the continual success of The Real World is the third sign of the apocalypse. Of course we are all relatively safe because the next harbinger of doom is nearly impossible. There is no way identical twin alien headed child stars of a formulaic family sitcom would earn several hundred million dollars hocking abysmal direct- to-video releases to pedophiles and/or 10 year old girls. Anyway, as I was saying we are all severally fucked. I am all for low brow television full of T & A (Teats and Arse) but even the retarded pervert living within me has its limits. At least I had shows like ALF, Growing Pains and Doogie Howser MD to shape my young mind. The children of today are feed a steady diet of beautiful retards fucking like rabbits. Where will our children find their role models if not on television? Parents could of course set the standard, but seriously who wants to grow to beat their wife like their daddy or suck off the mailman like mommy does. Cable television needs to raise the bar for our children and children's children.

Anyway I am off to watch Passport to Paris. Now that’s cinema at its finest. Beautiful nubile twins romping through the streets of gay Paris. Tonight will be very enjoyable.


go to hell

Saturday, August 23, 2003

I went to bed Friday morning at 8:30am. Woke up at 9:15pm Friday night. Yesterday evening I ate White Castle. Tonight I ate Taco Bell. What does all this mean? Am I a lazy fat bastard? Do I now prefer using simple, short sentences? Or, is their a government conspiracy forcing me to sleep during day, stay up all through the night watching Poltergeist the Legacy and eat heart attacking inducing fast food? Who knows but I do have a serious case of tooten poopens.

While checking my voicemail it appears that my father's auction may now be a no go. The auctioneer we were working with seems to have developed cold feet. This is a bad thing, since the two auctions we had thus far were a modest success. However, if the proverbial shit does hit the fan it might be a real opportunity for me. I need to get a life which first requires moving out of Newark, Ohio. First of all I don't have anything against my place of birth. In fact beyond the fact that it resides in the outer layers of Hell it ain't such a bad place. I am glad to have spent most of my formative years here rather then a thriving urban metropolis. There I would have become cultured, meaning being indoctrinated into a neo bourgeoisie lifestyle. In other words being an uncouth, unsophisticated jack ass is definitely the product of my environment and thank God for it. Anyway, growing up is hard to do but sometime we all have to do it. I have insulated myself from the world, often dismissing it as meaningless and trivial. Yet, in actuality there is so much living to be done and really so little time. It is high time I quit bemoaning my miserable existence, take control of my fate and go do something.

Then again being mature and self reliant sounds like a lot of work, not to mention requiring and untold amount of dedication. I am just going to take a shit instead.


go to hell

Thursday, August 21, 2003

Day 2 of being unemployed. Stayed up till 6am last night and woke up at 5pm, oh how I missed those times. I applied to a couple places and hopefully will get a call soon. The only positive from my short stint in the working world was the realization that I do need to work. Spending my day wallowing in Doritos crumbs surrounded by a mountain of Pepsi cans is no way to live. Due to my lack of skills and under abundance of "real" jobs (jobs being defined as a profession that does not cause blood to leak from my ears). Enough talk about me and my pathetic life, today I was hoping to have an engaging dialogue with all of you. First of all let me reiterate how much I have missed all seven of you who read this blog. Most of you I know in real life, but as you well know actual human interaction pails in comparison to reading each others daily logs. The couple of you who don't know me personally will find the following very disheartening. You haven't lived until witnessing a 240 lb man sitting crossed legged for hours at a time. Here is the deal usually I rant and rave with little concern for those who later read it, but today I am trying something different. I want everyone reading this to take a couple minutes and post a comment today on the following subject. What pisses you the fuck off? Some may find this question a little vague, so in order to prevent undue confusion I will further clarify. What really pisses you the fuck off?

It is my sincere hope that this subject will open up an impressive dialogue between us, one that allows for a better understanding of all people. That and I am too lazy to bitch today.


Go to hell

Wednesday, August 20, 2003

I am back, long time no see. I wonder how everyone has been since I last posted. Hopefully everyone has felt as bad as me. I spent seven weeks working for Satan. The job was humiliating enough, collecting money from people is only slightly more rewarding then performing telemarketing cold calls. The real kicker was when I convinced an elderly woman to pay her credit card bill instead of the mortgage. That occurred several weeks ago, and ever since I have felt absolutely wretched. On the one hand knowing I still have a conscious is a good thing, however as usual it served as a major hindrance in my personal development. How will I ever reach the top of the business world with this incessant feeling of guilt holding me down. Of course I long ago rationalized the morality of child slavery, so all is not lost.

Baring any other major life changes, i.e. another job, going back to school, or least likely of all a girlfriend my posts should once again be fairly frequent. I feel very much alive today, much more so then in weeks past, which means I have a lot to bitch about before sinking back into my usual morose state of mediocrity.


By the way

GO TO HELL

Friday, July 11, 2003

Long time no see. Looks like you missed me, which is understandable due to my sunny disposition. The new job is beneath me, but to be fair most positions would fall into that category. I am still bitter about the 17 year olds making as much as me, and having more growth potential, but life is unfair/fuckingretarded sometimes.

Honestly, work could be significantly worse. On the one hand the company is not taking advantage of my potential, on the other hand they are paying me more then McDonalds (though not much more). Got to look for the silver lining in every cloud even if it is an acid rain causing one. The worst part has been the constant barrage of stupid questions and asinine videos. Treating me like an intellectual toddler does tend to irritate/pissmethefuckoff. Of course my parents have been very helpful. My mom keeps calling me a pussy for complaining, while dad gets angry about giving me money to pay bills. I understand my mom's position, she is a crazy bitch. But, dad getting pissed about spotting me for a couple weeks is nearly unforgivable. In order to take this job, I had to pretty much quit helping him. Since he pushed me to become gainfully employed, I assumed the "me" not working for him was understood. Also, as I told him early last week the Human Resource Department, i.e. spawn of hell, would not have me entered in payroll in time to get a check by the next payment cycle. So, instead of being paid on the 16th (which’s 18 days from my start date) I have to wait until the end of the 31st for my first check. Problem is I have bills to pay before then. Dad didn't seem to care. He keeps demanding I work for him, but the aforementioned job/finaldeathblowtothesoul prevents that from happening. Basically all this means I have no money to pay bills or even go to work. After literally begging for several hours I did manage to score enough cash to pay for gas over the next week, though eating would not be a viable option.

Now, some of you might counter that I should have been prepared (I didn't want the job, was threatened with bodily harm if I didn't take it) or at the very least resort to credit cards to get me by. Well, thankfully several months ago I tore up all my cards, save for one which I let DAD FUCKING USE for his auction. Recently I took that card back, unbeknownst to him, and did use it to buy toilet paper today (I have literally showered after every shit since last week due to my inability to afford toilet paper). Basically, I am not terribly pleased with the parental units at the moment and rightfully so. Also, I learned my brother-in-law/sister told my dad they could get me a good job but think I am way too unreliable. This is probably true, but at my age both of them were far from wise, respectable, and reliable workers themselves, based on their own personal anecdotes. As usual they are trying to keep the white man down so I will have to deal with and stop being a pussy. God I love my mom.


Well I am off to use the credit card to buy a pizza and then take a nice long pooh. God, I love toilet paper even more then my mom.

go to hell

Wednesday, July 02, 2003

I found this link at my buddy’s blog. Jesus H. Blimpie Jumbotron Christ......I am almost speechless. According to the web counter several other people have sallied on over to this page, god help them. This kid is the reason why I am adopting Asian babies. I will have the option to pick out a couple of beautiful, brilliant children who will one day make me millions.

Of course Lyle Lovett’s and Sandra Bernhard's child will probably end up with a better job and hotter spouse then Bob.

God damn it.


(edited July 3, 2003)

Ok after doing a little more research, which amounted to reading the message board on the above link, I have lost all hope. The aforementioned site is scary enough (and yes i know it is a joke) but the forum postings associated with it are at best criminally incriminating. There are some sick fuckers out there. Good thing the apocolypse is upon us. First sign was the end of Buffy. You are forewarned.

By the way look for a website next week. I have read a How To on HTML And XHTML book. Thus far I have finished 400/600 pages and am fairly confident in my ability to produce a wretched pile of shit.


Go to hell
Day 2 at work was boring. We spent 8 hours going over eight pages of material. I can sum it all up in one sentence. Don't steal, cheat or look at female employees asses otherwise you will be fired. Also, it was revealed my trainer has no college education. She has trouble passing classes on Phoenix Online. I know that college shouldn't matter, actually fuck that. A four year degree from a fairly reputable institution should mean something. Couple the trainer with the significant number of recent high school graduates in my group and it appears that I may be overqualified.

If the job doesn't require any collegiate work, which obviously it doesn’t, then why am I here. Furthermore the company doesn't seem to care about post high school education. So, I am four years behind everyone else working at the company. Hell maybe they do know more than I, but based on reading most of the training manual, there doesn't seem to be a lot to it. You call someone, inform them their account is delinquent, listen to a bullshit excuse, and restate in polite persuasive fashion that they still need to pay on the account. A trained parrot could handle this job with ease. Before anyone states that collections is much more intensive then that, or success requires more then just a firm speaking voice, you are stupid and wrong. Everyone I have met in the department thus far, ranging from floor employees to management, is inarticulate and slow witted. Basically I am surrounded by a sea of morons, who all make significantly more money then I ever will. The real kicker is that my degree and more importantly innate intelligence/superiority mean virtually nothing. As I stated earlier I am at least several years behind everyone working here because they opted out of college and instead decided to get knocked up. (my trainer’s story)

I am not bitter, not at all. Fucking teachers, parents and professors claiming an education was important. I was so much happier not being employed and largely ignorant to my lot in the working world. Two days in equates to forty-eight hours of misery. Forget what I said about being apathetic, because not applying oneself is so much more fulfilling.

Shoot me, or at least recommend a better job. Seriously I will work for minimum wage if the occupation requires a degree. It may be worthless but fuck being four years behind everyone else because they were too stupid, stoned, or impregnated to pursue an education.

By the way the above post doesn't apply to my friends. Problem is you are probably not my friend. (Josh, Travis, Chris, associated girlfriends/boyfriends are excluded from today's discussion)

go to hell

Monday, June 30, 2003

Ok, maybe I exaggerated a wee bit about my relative position in life. Though, it really doesn't matter. Juxtaposing ones self worth against the accomplishment of others is fool hardy. I need to judge life against my own expectations. I am not a total failure. But, I am not a resounding success either. The more I think about it my greatest fear is failing. Whether it concerns work, friends, family, leisure or love I am so afraid of rejection that any opportunity for success or happiness is precluded. In other words I have chosen to do nothing at all with my life rather then chance any sort of failure. Obviously, as usual, my logic is skewed. Greatness affords itself to only those willing to face utter despair. Enough with this nonsensical doublespeak, I am starting to make myself think.

I am very fortunate to have people who do care about me. Whether or not it is deserved I can't say but I do greatly appreciate it.

Oh by the way I did start the new job. I am not going to comment about it, because I want to maintain a positive attitude. Though, today amongst the other trainees was the first time I ever actually felt old. Half the damn room just graduated high school. Now I know college is a stupid idea. Could have become a collections agent straight out of diapers it seems.

oh well it could be worse. At least I am not cursed with lycanthrope and subsequently forced to live a life in sin practicing the furry fetish.


go to hell

Sunday, June 29, 2003

No post today. I am busy contemplating the empty void that is my life.


450 kids were in my high school graduating class. Currently I am the 449th most succesful. One guy died.


go to hell

Saturday, June 28, 2003

Birthday's suck, or mine does. Turning 23 is of no real importance, hell the next big event associated with my birthday is when I get a car insurance break at age 25. But it is still customary to feel somewhat happy on the anniversary of ones birth. I didn't even get a damn cake. The parents did take me to Red Lobster, and I did get a pair of cheap leather shoes from Payless Shoe Store.

Today is very depressing.

Thank God I won't have to deal with this shit of a day for another year.


It's my birthday and I will cry if I want to.

Friday, June 27, 2003

I am officially on strike from my family. On Thursday the parents decided to blame me for my little brother’s problems. At first they only insinuated that I was the reason he acted like Satan's bastard child. However, five minutes into the conversation blatant accusations were being tossed my direction. Damian, i.e. the eater of worlds, is a problem child. There is no doubt about it. But, placing fault on my feet is akin to blaming Poland for World War Two.

I am just a stupid bastard who puts up with the dark one's behavior since I am too weak to do anything about it. Long ago father threatened physical harm if I disciplined Beelzebub. Due to my absolute fear of being pummeled I have not laid a finger on my brother, even when a caning was due. Somehow I am the problem now. Stupid bastards.


Yet, all is not lost in the land of Bob. In order to prevent further contamination of Shaitan, I have pledged to stay completely away from him. Also, to be certain my dastardly ways do not filter to him through my parents; I will no longer interact with the mommy and daddy as well.


By the way I turn 23 tomorrow, another year closer to massive heart failure.


Go to hell

Thursday, June 26, 2003

Damn Blogger was offline for 24 hours. It is 6:45 am and I haven't went to bed yet. God I need to get a life.

Help me please

go to hell

Tuesday, June 24, 2003

Less then a week from now I begin work. Being one of the gainfully employed lemmings makes me feel very sad. My comfortable, albeit tedious existence will forever be marred by joining the workforce. I am still hoping that the company discovers one of the embellishments/bold-faced lies on my resume and promptly rescinds their job offer.

I really don't want to work. I was born to be a layer not a doer.

By the way my dad's website is coming along nicely, even if it looks little childish. I almost did a good job; perhaps shareware ain't so bad after all.

Monday, June 23, 2003

Too lazy to come up with a worthwhile post instead I will share an uplifting piece of poetry.

Suicide

Desolate inside
Empty solution
Answers denied
Darkness


I will give a cookie to whoever finds the hidden message.

go to hell

Sunday, June 22, 2003

Saw a film with dad, and the little brother. I had a pretty good time. All those Hulk-Haters should finally shut up, since it set a new June opening weekend record. No reason to debate whether it remained faithful to canon, because it didn't. But neither did X-Men, Spiderman or any other superhero film. Yet, even though Ang Lee took creative license with the character, the story still worked and was quite entertaining. And, all the shits who took issue with the CGI should get a clue. Considering he is a 15 foot tall, half ton, behemoth the Hulk looked pretty damn good.


Anyway I am off to bed, well going to eat a BLT pizza first then bed.


go to hell

Saturday, June 21, 2003

Creating a website with very little HTML knowledge can be very problematic. I am using a program that is making the process less painful, at least technically. Drag and paste is all that is required. However, I have very little control aesthetics over the page. Being at the mercy of third party shareware is not a good thing. I could go buy a how to book on HTML. Then again why put in all that effort. Painless mediocrity is always the best way to go.


I find it rather easy to portray a businessman. Being bland, rather cruel and incompetent comes naturally to me.
John Cleese (1939 - )

Friday, June 20, 2003

I decided to accept the job from the credit card company. June 30th will be the first day of a new adventure, one full of hang-ups, cursed laden conversations and broken promises. God love the USA and our debt ridden culture. Now, I will be part of the solution, a man who strives to uphold the virtue of timely bill paying. My family sees this as a wonderful opportunity, I mean who knows in six months I could be head collector. Hell, two years down the line I might even make assistant to the assistant's sisters babysitter. The future looks so promising. A career filled with stupid coworkers, stupider bosses, all against the bland backdrop of a sea of cubicles.


Kill me now.

go to hell

Thursday, June 19, 2003

I have seen the future of cinema. Soccer as a general rule sucks major ass. But, when combined with comedic kung fu styling the sport of English fairies transforms into something truly remarkable. Today is only the third time I have ever laughed so hard that I cried. The first two occasions involved freshman pledges, whip cream and a small puppy named Timmy. It is hard to believe that a sixty second movie preview could have such an effect, but never doubt the power of overweight Shaolin monks, a hot bald Asian chick and black dragon bicycle kicks. I am actually giddy with anticipation.

everyone to go see this movie August 8th

because if you don't

you can

go to hell

Wednesday, June 18, 2003

While looking around the trailer today I finally came to terms with a very serious issue. I am a dirty butt. As of five minutes ago there were a couple dozen rolled up paper towel sheets that happened to be caked in mucus. Empty soda cans litter every possible surface area. There is a strange and pungent odor emanating from the kitchen which must be due in small part to the pile of unwashed dishes. I won't even mention the condition of the bathroom; let’s just say my little brother and father refuse to use it, even only to urinate. What I need is a cheap housekeeper, preferably cute, female and very easy. If there are any takers please feel free to message me.

Talking about human filth is a perfect segue into today's main topic lesbian meter maids. Somewhere along the line a brain-dead walking talking validation for the morning after pill came up with the idea of having a two hour limit on the spaces downtown. The community that I call home/hell deems it necessary to employ three women to walk around the designated area and give out five dollar parking tickets. During the past ten years my dad's store has been located in their ticketing zone he has paid several thousand dollars in fines. That money could have been used to pay my way through college, get me a new car or to blow on cheap whores and expensive champagne. But NO it was used to justify the existence of the gorgon sisters. My dad is not bothered by this loss of money; he accepts the law at face value and quietly pays the consequences. On the other hand I am infuriated because said monies should be wasted on me and not the city government.

However, even I am willing to endure stupid laws and city ordinances. One would have an easier time discovering the means to perpetual motion then eliminating all stupidity from local legislation. Yet, I do take issue with the stupid laws being implemented unfairly. It seems the aforementioned carpet lickers do not give out parking violations to everyone. Point in fact the women who work next door at the jewelry store never find a little orange ticket on their windshield. You know why? They flirt with dykesareus on a regular basis. In other words the jewelry whores and vaginavores have a repartee between them. Isn't there a law about equal protection under the law, oh wait a minute that doesn't apply to heterosexual white fat men with chips on their shoulders.

If my story stopped here my anger would easily be justified. There is another group who regularly violate the downtown parking ordinance. City employees are allowed to apply for permanent parking passes when applicable to their situation (i.e. handicapped, obese, really fucking ugly), which on the surface is fine. Though they do have a multilevel parking garage made specifically for city employees a couple blocks down. Oddly enough that doesn't get used. Problem is they are able to continually apply for passes and hand them out to friends, family, the child molester next door etc. The city has no means to track the number of passes given out. Monday through Friday it is nearly impossible to find a space between 10am and 5pm. Several hundred spaces are no where to be seen. Saturday and Sunday during the same hours a couple dozen cars are littered around the area. What pray tell is the difference? The city employees, wives, and judge's illegitimate children are all at home admiring their ill-gotten parking passes and laughing all the while. So, either my city/county has bureaucratic numbers that put D.C. to shame or there are lots or the alternative where a few dozen city workers share, give and sell their easily obtained parking gold.

The lesson we learn from the above post is the necessity for intolerance when dealing with ugly lesbian meter maids and stupid city officials. I once witnessed a gentleman, of obvious redneck origin, nearly run over one the meter monsters. He nearly committed vehicular homicide to prevent getting a five-dollar ticket.

Good to know hope is still alive.


go to hell

Tuesday, June 17, 2003

Thanks everyone for sticking up for me during my absence. I have decided to let bygones be bygones and not comment further on shewholicksguysassholesatthetruckstop. Even extremely bitter gents need to forgive and suppress.

I had another interview today, one that went extremely well. If this whole job thing doesn't work out, I should release a "How to Bullshit your way to a winning interview". Thankfully the HR officer was fairly intelligent, and more importantly very pleasant. The job sounds fairly interesting, well as far as work goes, though as usual it pays very little. Starting from the bottom sucks ass. Bright, non-motivated chubby guys should rule the corporate world from the get-go.

F.Y.I.

Do not cut off a wart with scissors. It hurts like hell and seemingly bleeds forever.
Instead burn it off with lighter, much safer process.
Or, be a pussy and go to a doctors to have it removed.

go to hell

Monday, June 16, 2003

So much to say, so little inclination to say it.

Tomorrow I will delve into some recent issues, personal and otherwise.

Come back then.

go to hell

Friday, June 13, 2003

Shewhosucksrandomguysdicks left a message on IM yesterday. She was vainly trying to make me feel bad. Seems her boyfriend has a good job, and the STD test came back negative. Not really sure why I should feel bad about her defying statistical probability and not being infected with genital warts or the fact her boyfriend sells crack to school children, but that is beside the point. The motivation behind her remarks is irksome.

Recently, I was beginning to feel bad about being unnecessarily mean towards her. I even considered rescinding my previous remarks and apologizing. Thankfully that phase has passed now. I killed nice Bob, well ok I ate him. Empathy is a term that no longer applies in my case therefore unabashed hate is now the norm.

What makes that stupid bar slut think she has the right to belittle me? In a perfect world she would be sterilized to prevent further corruption of the human gene pool. I would also recommend a lobotomy, but if anyone who has ever spoken with her can't tell the
difference anyway.

Everyone do have a nice weekend

please remember to leave your seat belts unbuckled and to drink massive amounts of liqueur before driving.

go to hell

Thursday, June 12, 2003

My allergies are driving me crazy. Nose is running, eyes are itching, left buttock is tingling. Ok, the last one might not be allergy related but still.

I have decided to stay away from paragraphs altogether.

Should make my entries even less cohesive.

Anyway not much to say. I don't feel too terribly well.

My grandmother did turn eighty today.

Old bat is still kicking. God please kill me if I make it that long.

Fifty-seven more years of angst filled existence just doesn't appeal to me.

anyway you can all


go to hell

Wednesday, June 11, 2003

I literally live in hell. At night the trailer is unbearbly cold, while during the day it puts the Sahara to shame. I would bitch some more but as the saying goes "you get what you pay for".

My diet failed utterly after two days. Who would have thought? GOD DAMN IT.

Anyway, I am sweaty, tired and feeling a wee bit bloated.

So, blah blah fuck off blah sons of bitches blah blah fucking assholes etc.


go to hell

Tuesday, June 10, 2003

After a six hour midday nap I woke up to a cell phone beeping. It seems I had a message. Low and behold if it wasn't another HR proletarian with an enticing interview offer. I am still pondering whether or not to call back. Regardless, it appears that there is really significant chance that I will be gainfully employed in the near future. Life isn't fair. I just want someone to give me money due to my innate sense of worth. Of course I could just fake a severe back injury the first couple weeks, and then collect disability the rest of my life.


Sounds like a good plan.

go to hell

Monday, June 09, 2003

I woke up at 5:00 pm today. Needless to say my nights and days are mixed up. Best solution is to go back to sleep.

As I mentioned yesterday a great evil has taken residence next door. She actually came over early this morning, used a spare key and began screaming at me. Thankfully there were no easily accessible sharp objects. It seemed that the phone service had been shut off next door. Of course it was my fault. Well for once it partly was due to me. In order to save papa a little cash I opted to shut off my phone, and use the cellular as my sole means of communication. I placed the termination order a week ago. The young lady who keyed in the information made a mistake, one that I had to suffer for. Several phone calls and a half hour later the problem was rectified.

My descent into trailer trashdom hastens. I have no phone. Next the electric will go and then finally the water.



go to hell

Sunday, June 08, 2003

Note to self: Do not leave mom sitting in the car at a gas station, without the keys, and head home. Even though it seems like a great idea at the time, ultimately her thirst for revenge will overshadow giddy feelings.

Yesterday was really interesting. I decided to take my mother, a.k.a. source of all evil, to dinner at Red Lobster. We both enjoying eating at the seafood Mecca, so in theory it seemed like a great idea. Dad asked me to take his car, since it had air I agreed. Also, as a favor he wanted me to fill it up and put in a quart of oil. I am not terribly familiar with where the oil goes; usually a mechanic or daddy takes care of it for me. Though, for whatever reason, I took one on the chin and agreed to his request.

Upon arriving to the gas station I proceed to fill up the tank. Five minutes, and twenty-five dollars later the deed was done. After paying the attendant for the gas and a quart of oil it was now time to face destiny. I have put in oil a grand total of four times previous, never in this vehicle in particular. Popped open the hood, searched for the cap for a couple minutes, and then eureka I found it. This was the easy part; all I had to do was pour into the hole. However, fate deemed it necessary to test my resolve, in the form my mother. Shortly after removing the oil cap, she began heckling me. "Is that the right hole? Are you sure it is right one? You are going to ruin the engine? Why would your dad let you do this?" My intestinal fortitude did not waver, even in the face of absolute evil. Nonetheless, every man has a breaking point. Mine was when she blew the horn for five seconds. The sound bellowed in my ear and rhyme or reason no longer applied. I promptly stopped pouring the oil, sat it down beside the van and walked away. There was a voice in the background, vainly trying to apologize, but it was too little, too late. I walked home. A little over half way there it dawned on me that the car keys were still in my pocket. Should I leave the banshee where she was? Most assuredly yes, but the leaving the van was another matter. Father would be angry. Therefore, I pushed my anger deep inside, where it would fester, waiting until another day to come to fruition, and walked back. When I arrived she was sitting there chain smoking, screaming and nearly in tears. For a fleeting moment I was happy. I took her home listening half-heartily to the threats of bodily harm.

The story doesn't end here. Later that evening, around 9:00 pm, mom called. She would have revenge for embarrassing her so. I turned off the phone, but it was for naught. I am fairly sure she lurked around the trailer all night, waiting for me to come out. My anger was nothing compared to her loathsome hate. Even today, with the light still shining I am afraid. Monsters do in fact exist, and I happen to live next door to one.


go to hell

Saturday, June 07, 2003

I slept fourteen hours. It felt like five. I really need to become active, as the allure of sleeping, eating and defecting has faded.

Hope you all have a wonderful weekend full of friends, drinks, flirting, car accidents, DUI's, and permanent paralysis.

By the way the diet log is ready, though due to a little accident with some doughnuts the daily entries won't kick into force until Monday.


Asking a working writer what he thinks about critics is like asking a lamppost how it feels about dogs.
Christopher Hampton

Friday, June 06, 2003

This is the reason I never want to get old. Good thing I am eating myself to an early grave, so the golden years will never apply.

Nonetheless I do want to make age thirty before my first heart attack; therefore tomorrow begins a new healthy lifestyle. In other words I am starting a crash diet, involving voodoo science and lots of water.


For your enjoyment I am writing a "food diary", it should provide a boat load of laughs. Also, it should make you feel significantly better about yourselves. My own unique spin on the "point and laugh at fatty" phenomenon.

Look for a link tomorrow.



go to hell
I spent the last three hours rotting my brain as usual. But, for once it was well worth my time to sit in front of the tube, simply because of a special, little green guy. Yoda's acceptance speech was one the funniest fucking things I have ever seen. My inner nerd was overjoyed.


Oh, I almost forgot bi-sexual teenagers dressed like little school girls turn me on.

Can't wait till my fiftieth birthday when I am officially allowed to be a dirty old man.

I am

going to hell

Thursday, June 05, 2003

I remembered the strangest instance while showering today. A couple months ago while visiting the local nerd emporium, a group of three ex-dungeon masters were discussing the merits of "pussy" over video games. They seemed to have first hand knowledge of both topics, which was very disheartening. I had hoped to be the only guy who has both touched a young lady and logged in a couple hundred hours to Everquest. These chaps made me look like Brad Pitt's much better looking younger brother. Back to their conversation. Each troglodyte was very animated about the value of sex, going as far as to say it superseded even video games in terms of importance. Of course their reliance on hand gestures was problematic, the use of hairy digits to simulate nerd sex is not something one wishes to see. As I examined the memory a scary thought crept from subconscious, an idea that goes against the core of my very being. I held video games in higher esteem then "relations"

First let it be known that physical intimacy with a woman has been highly enjoyable in thepast. When available I tried to engage in it as much as humanly possible, reaching a peak of 5 times in day. But enough about my torrid love life, the issue at hand is my assertion that video games are more enjoyable than sex. Electronic entertainment provides an escape, one requiring minimal introspective thought. Usually, all that is necessary is to follow the little white rabbit while admiring the beautiful scenery.

Superficially sex follows the same guidelines. It is an escape from the mundanity of everyday life, where one experiences pleasure with little energy left to devote to thought. The problem is the before and after period. It requires immense energies and work. Doesn't matter if the act occurs during a one stand or in the 10th year of marriage. If you are a "player" all the energy is directed towards creating a false image of the self, one that impresses the object of desire, hopefully leading to coitus. Conversely a married couple spends decades lulling over the same humdrum issues, fighting, making up, making love, abstaining, etc.

I don't feel like getting into all the particulars, because my point is probably baseless. Admiringly I am single, bitter, and full post relationship angst so my vantage point is colored in such a way that it may appear alien to you.

by the way when I write "colored' it doesn't refer to darkies, redskins or albinos.

go to hell


Wednesday, June 04, 2003

Addendum to June 4th Log Entry

It seems I have a stick stuck up my ass as well.

Oddly enough I kind of like it.

Does that make me a butt-pirate?

Oops I did it again.

Well at least my imaginary friend, Mr. Gary Thompson, who happens to be a monkey midget, will love me no matter what filth spews from my keyboard.



I wasn't going to post today due to my fascination with becoming a 50th level werewolf wizard but something came up and needs clarified.

A friend of mine, whom I think the world of, apparently has a stick stuck up his ass today and took offense at yesterdays post. Read Tuesday's comments to catch up. Considering this is a medium where people post things with little forethought or consideration, I take very little of it seriously. As you very well know most of my entries have been stupid, asinine and downright silly. The post yesterday sparked controversy, leading someone to use the term racism. No sweat off my back. I usually don't take offense when a ridiculous charge is levied against me, especially on the internet but today is a little different.
The point of this website is to entertain MYSELF. Hopefully along the way others find little tidbits they can relate to, perhaps even laugh at. At the end of the day I write for personal satisfaction. Not everyone will like my style, substance and especially sense of humor. Their loss. But what I can't tolerate is wanton ignorance, which is the same as stupidity.

I don't have to defend my views, hell if I want to be a racist bastard; it is will within my rights to do so. But I don't. It requires constant diligence against truth, in other words you gotta act stupid all the same. Yet, racism is not limited to a dominant group discriminating against a minority. It is in fact a tool used by the minority as well. I used the term "white" man's English to be funny. If you want to get serious I am well aware that English mastery is not limited by ones skin color. Sounds like common sense right? Then again plenty of Black leaders disagree. Oakland City Schools started the disturbing trend of Ebonics. In essence they divided the language into two groups, those being urban slang and proper English. The urban variant was spoken, surprisingly enough, in urban areas by the folks who lived there. They happened to be black in most cases. This left proper English to be associated with everyone else Asian, black, white or whatever. As it happens Whites were the majority of this group, another big surprise. All this translates into Ebonics being associated with blacks, with the rest of the language falling to whites. Basically a group of radical blacks instituted a moronic program, one that was by its definition bigoted in nature. I am not sure if Ebonics still exists in Oakland or anywhere else for that matter, though the initial damage is still felt today. Standardized tests are now being targeted as being unfair to urban youths, i.e. blacks, because their insistence on using standardized English. There are plenty of valid critiques against these tests but that is not one of them. Again bigoted black leaders divided the language up. One was spoken by "white" youths, the other by "black". Both examples point out the use of willful ignorance which often translates into bigotry/racism. Rather then set down and examine why their was a language divide, they opted to promote linguistic segregation.
Of course ultra liberal white’s and blacks, who have boatloads of intelligence but very little wisdom, are blissfully unaware of this fact They see it as promoiting racial harmony and equality. A similar argument was made by Southern leaders, who happened to be racist whites, from 1870 up until a few decades ago. Their arguement was centered on seperate facilities but it translates nicely to seperate language as well.

The above paragraph is the entire reason why I am upset. My statement was meant in the spirit of humor. A white middleclass guy took it as being racist. Truth be told it is a racist comment, but only when used by supposed civil rights leaders. Not that he cares, but I am not angry at my friend's unfounded accusations. Just as he shouldn't be upset that I revealed he has a splintery rectum.


This goes for everyone

Lighten up

(By the way this is a true rant, meaning it is my mind to the page, no editing or even spell check since I am using the computer next door and am being booted off as I finish this sentence, so if it makes no sense well fuck off and if it sounds halfway lucid, it is not my fault.)

Tuesday, June 03, 2003

I had an interview today. After twenty minutes of Q & A, which barely required conscious thought, the human resources woman offered me the job. I had mixed emotions at her pronouncement. First, this woman was barely fit to serve me fries, more less determines my job worthiness. I should have been interviewing her if anything. Through sheer force of will I managed to suppress my superior complex and to seriously consider the merits of the job. It pays $11.00 an hour, with health benefits available the first day. There are sixteen mandatory weekend hours every month. It pays better then some jobs, like dog sitting for example, but it falls well short of my deserved income ($80,000 sounds about right). Of course I have no real world, tangible job skills so perhaps my innate sense of worth is exaggerated. Either that or everyone is jealous of my greatness and simply unwilling to acknowledge it as of yet.

The job entails collecting money from delinquent accounts, also known as milking deadbeats for their welfare money. I shadowed an employee for twenty or so minutes. He explained three job criteria. It requires sitting for extended period times with little movement. Check. Basic computer and typing skills are required. Check. One must be able to negotiate with people in a friendly and persuasive manner. Two out of three ain't bad. Based on my personal experience with credit card companies I have yet to have one communicate in an intelligent or effective manner. Hell, usually Laquisha can barely speak white man's English leading me to think the last job criterion is dubious at best. After listening on nearly three dozen phone calls I also discovered another requirement, the ability to be nonplused by perpetual rejection. Of course my dating life unique qualifies me in this aspect.

Before my job offer could be finalized it was necessary to successfully complete three steps. First I had to pass a drug test. Good thing I kicked my smack habit a few months ago. Then it is necessary to receive a written notification from job references. Since I am the HR director, i.e. the guy answers all business mail, at my dads store that step is easily taken care of. Finally, I have to pass a background check. Thankfully the whole stint as high templar of church Gog and the subsequent animal sacrifices involved are sealed in my juvenile record.

All this leads to the conclusion that I, Bob, am qualified for the job. It is menial, as most work seems to me, but believe it or not tedium has lost its allure. Lying around on my ample buttock is quickly losing its appeal. A job would me good. Maybe even encourage personal growth. Or at the least get me in good with the chubby human resource secretary who appeared incredibly desperate for male attention.

I will sleep sixteen hours on it and decide tomorrow,

in the meantime

go to hell

Monday, June 02, 2003

I came to a very valuable conclusion this morning while delivering "antique" furniture to an elderly person. Time is the most precious commodity, especially my time. Due to the ineptitude of my father/Stalin/boss I had to drive across town multiple times for an otherwise simple delivery. He had forgotten to take down the gentleman's phone number, which is problematic when you are hours late in delivering the merchandise. No about the man would be gone but to appease my father I delivered it all the same. Luckily today I had a helper, who must be Yosemite Sam's real life counterpart. And, like the beloved Warner character he is very two dimensional and lacking any intelligence whatsoever. All in all the numerous trips to and fro were a wonderful experience, slightly less agonizing then having a rusted fork inserted in your rectum. Onto my revelation.

Time is truly precious. However what you do with said time is not really important. Whether one spends it working with the handicap or stuffing their face with Taco Bell is of little consequence. What matters is controlling ones time. Choosing the tempo of the day is where the value comes from. One minute of my day is priceless. Granted several thousand dollars a week would cushion the loss, but does it really?

Let’s say you work at a company doing a job you detest and make "good" money. For simplicities sake lets say $50,000 a year, which is several thousand dollars above the national average. Also, to stay away form any moral obligations to family, you are single as well. Now imagine you are working in a boring, meaningless job that offers nothing save for a steady paycheck. You work a mandatory forty hour week, and are obligated to attend an occasional conference. Over the course of the next year you will spend at the very minimum 2,080 hours at work. Converting your salary to an hourly wage comes up with roughly $24.38 an hour. Of course this is before taxes. Using a very conservative estimate of thirty-five percent going to Social Security, Federal, State and Sales taxes you are actually left with $32,500 in salary or $15.62 am hour.

Since you have a fairly good job it is necessary to drive a reasonably nice car so you splurge a little and get a $30,000 SUV resulting in a monthly payment of circa $500.00. Full coverage insurance runs around $250.00 per quarter. Due to a horrific roommate experience in college you opt to live alone in a 1 bedroom studio apartment. Rent is $550.00 a month. Essential utilities, i.e. water, gas, and a telephone run on average $75.00 per month. To keep costs down you forgo a girlfriend and instead get the full service cable package, including high speed internet access and cinamax. Cost is nearly $100.00 a month. Obviously you need a cell phone, with lots of minutes since it is necessary to talk incessantly on the phone while driving, eating and picking your ass. The plan costs $40.00 a month. Since you are single and tired from working a long a day you order out quite a bit leading to a $300.00 monthly food budget. Due to the immense generosity of your company health/dental/eye coverage is include in your salary with relatively low co-pay. Still it does add up to nearly $500.00 per year due to your childhood addiction to an asthma inhaler.

I am going to assume you are like me and have no social life other then the occasional movie therefore your luxury budget will be paltry $700.00 a year. By the grace of God credit cards have never been an attraction so you have no high interest debt. Of course you do owe $40,000 in student loans because your parents were cheap bastards. Wanting to eliminate the debt as soon as possible you pay in $5000.00 a year. The cost for all these life essentials is $25,980. Subtract that from your final gross income and you are left with a little over $6500. Divide that up by the number of hours worked and you get $3.14 an hour. That is the real wage you earn after calculating in all the junk that comes with having a $50,000 salary.

By the way don't tell me that the above figures are inflated, because I was low balling throughout, if anything the costs should be higher.

The point of the above exercise was to demonstrate what you really get in exchange for your time. Sure a nice cushy desk job paying nearly a $1000.00 a week sounds great but don't forget the hidden costs, in particular what it takes to maintain the job. Realistically a human being could live on much less but that isn't going to happen, the more you make means the more you spend. The problem is that the ratio between time and money earned is heavily skewed in favor of time spent rather then money gained. My time is worth much more then a measly $3.00 an hour.

Then again I live off the fruit of my parent's loins

Today's lesson: Never move away from home or strive for any professional success as it is ultimately fruitless and a waste of time. In other words be like Bob.


and remember my motto

go to hell



Sunday, June 01, 2003

I can't think of anything worthwhile to bitch about today. Maybe the Sabbath has rubbed off on me. Who the fucking Christ knows?

The weekend has been fairly unexciting due to my antisocial tendencies. I have read three books thus far, about to start on number four so at least it has been stimulating on a cognitive level. Of course Dean Koontz will never be confused with Hemmingway so maybe it has been a bust intellectually as well. Though I did do one thing of note this weekend. My seven year old brother let me play his new video game. Many parent groups, and quite a few high ranking politicians, i.e. Joe Lieberman, have denounced this game. I guess they think playing it will lead to antisocial, violent tendencies. Well, I am already set there so what harm could it do me. Of course my little bro shouldn't be playing it but my parents are retarded when it comes to the little hellion so what can you do.

Anyway, the first thing I decided to do in this sprawling virtual world was beat down a couple female bystanders. Then I proceeded to shoot random people as they passed by. I started to giggle. Five minutes into my virtual homicidal rampage I quietly handed the control over to my brother with a sad smile on my face. GTA Vice City is meant for mature audiences, and oddly enough that doesn't include me. Hopefully devil spawn will handle the virtual power better or at least not partake in senseless violence with such glee.



Anyway I am off to do some heavy reading.


go to hell




Saturday, May 31, 2003

There is a "Strawberry Festival" downtown, near where I work, which brought out the
local yokels in full force. I joke about living in a city full of degenerate simpletons but I
always felt these folks were the exception not the rule. As usual my optimism was
unfounded. My hometown must be located at the epicenter of the ignorant poor white
trash population and/or the gates of hell.

Walking amongst the concessions stands and carnival rides was a surreal experience. I was bombarded with alien sights and sounds that could have been taken straight from a H.P. Lovecraft story. Misshapen creatures,covered in strange symbols, who spoke in guttural voices, surrounded me. Every instinct told me to escape or least I lose my sanity. I knew these "things" were not inter-dimensional monstrosities seeking global annihilation, no the truth was much worse. They were my fellow citizens, the people who shared my place of birth. Evil has many faces but its most frightening would have to be a 400 lb. drunken hick woman who was covered in prison style tattoos. She smiled at me. I knew true and absolute fear.


I have tried to fight them for nearly 23 years but perhaps it was all for naught. I live in a
trailer, am unemployed and well on my way to morbid obesity.


He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if
you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.

Friedrich Nietzsche