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