Sunday, October 31, 2004

The Halloween party was a blast and I got to show my ass, literally. I did throw up this morning, which is bad, but the vomit only contained blood and bile --no gross chunky bits to clean up. Below are several pictures of me towards the end of the night, pay particular attention to the attractive woman (Anita) using a riding crop on my ass. Dreams do come true. They really, really do.

Next time on Maury: Fat Children and the Goth's who worship them.

Mein Kampf

You like me, you really do.

Crop on Ass Action

Oh, and thank you Chase for sharing with the world the hilarity that is Baby Bob Gone Wild.

Go to Hell

Saturday, October 30, 2004

I am going to a Halloween party. My costume is meant as a commentary on the roles of race and gender in the upcoming Presidential election. What costume can do such an important subject justice? Well, the answer is my costume: a giant baby.

Go to Hell

Thursday, October 28, 2004

Silver Bullet is an underrated horror classic. Remember when Corey Haim wasn't a burnout, or when Gary Busey was a crazy lunatic--ok, the last one has always been the case. Anyway, this is a fantastic film adaptation of a Stephen King short story.

I am not a big fan of King's, or at least not his written work. I can't stand his prose but I fully admit that he has a rare genius: he creates vivid stories that serve to both scare and delight (writes like shit, though). I know this from watching the various films based on his work, and I have suffered through a couple of his novels, one novella and several short stories.

Definitely check out the movies based on his work, and if you have stomach for it, read his novels, novellas and short stories. Though, make sure to stay away from Misery and Riding the Bullet; both are horrendous reads and the cause of many a mediocre nightmare.

Go to Hell
I don't like John Kerry the candidate. It isn't because I don't like his political persuasion, or because of the heinous actions he committed thirty years ago (he lied to get on TV, albeit at the expense of his fellow soldiers. Today, people eat cow shit to garner fame--both acts are regrettable). No, I dislike the candidate because he has no principled positions, none whatsoever.

My problem with John Kerry is that I don't know who the man is because he only presents the calculated politician. Bill Clinton was very similar, except he had incredible charisma to bolster his lack of principles and values. Nonetheless, they are from the same school of thought: where the instructors preach idealism in the form of relativism; a place where the students care less about fact than perception; it is the University of Intelligent Debate divorced from wisdom based response. John Kerry the politician will be a disastrous President, because he will cause the minimal amount of waves, not comprehending we are drowning the whole time.

He spent nearly two decades in Congress without distinguishing himself in any wayIn fact, the only reason why anyone knewof John Kerry (pre-2004) is because his name was dropped as a possible Presidential candidate in 2000 and 1992, oh and he admitted to killing innocent Vietanmese civilians. He is nearly indistinguishable from several hundred of his colleagues, except that his wife is worth several hundred million dollars and he claimed to participate in war crimes. I can definitely see why he is your candidate

I don't like the liberal ideology, as it causes far more harm than good. But, I do acknowledge much of the platform is meant with the best of intentions. For those of you who believe in this train of thought, I hope John Kerry doesn't win, for your sakes. Because you will find that as President he will be as effective as Bill Clinton, probably even less so. Clinton had his remarkable chraisma to cloud ones mind when, and if, you realized he didn't accomplish a thing in eight years of office, minus the blowjob. Slick Willy was an acceptable loss, at least for me, because he provided several years of material for the late night talk show hosts. However, we can't afford to wear rose colored glasses any longer; the Muslim extremists want to blow up our civilization issue needs our undivided attention.

Then again, who am I to stop you from electing a shitty leader. Let's examine a small sampling of what he will (not) accomplish as President.

Gay rights? John Kerry isn't going to be your champion, in fact his position is nigh indistinguishable from President Bush; he supports the polls which don't support Gay Marriage. At best you can hope for don't ask, don't tell type policies, which have sure worked out, thus far.

Women's Rights? Heinz will be seen until she does something disastrous, a la Hilary and universal healthcare, then she won't be heard from again. She will empower militant feminists everywhere and we all know how important they are to the well being of this country. Your god-given right to abort your fetuses will remain intact, but isn't going anywhere as is. Congress will never approve a Supreme Court nominee who will tip the scales concerning abortion--it won't happen.

The economy? Well, we can only hope that another gigantic stock bubble arises that converts millions of average folk into stock traders--until it bursts and little Johnny is left without college money. Hopefully, we can also count on a few ethically-retarded CEO's to cook the books causing the economy to entertain short-term gains and court long-term disaster. And, the rising taxes will definitely bolster the economy--people are always more likely to invest money in marketplace when the government raises taxes. I know it is a non-sequitur but what does logic have to do with our financial future.

Healthcare? Universal healthcare will never happen in this country; there is no way to pay for it. The plan he presents only pays for 20% of the tab, which the wealthy will pick up, guess where the other 80% will come from? Answer: The not so wealthy who can't afford healthcare as it is.

The war on terror? The French and Germans will definitely turn the tide of the war. Al Queda is shaking on their camels at the thought of having to bribe Chirac. Iraq? My previous point applies here as well. Kerry's plan to pull troops out as soon as possible is wonderfully unclear, ASAP must mean five to seven years in Kerry speak. We are going to be there for the long haul--regardless of who you choose as President. However, I am pretty sure the insurgents are quaking in their boots at the thought of the French becoming involved. I mean look at how they put Saddam in his place by funneling him billions of dollars through the Oil for Food program. Yea, that sure stopped his genocidal regime.

Conclusion: Vote for John Kerry or suffer four more years of decisive and moral leadership. We want our leaders to only serve a political agenda, to follow the whims of the majority and rarely, if ever, lead.

Go to Hell

Wednesday, October 27, 2004

My erudite peers never cease to amaze simple minded me. They deconstruct the lingustic foibles of a man who is a two-fold Ivy League graduate--a feat that is only surpassed by his ability to fly fighter jets. He is definitely the village idiot. I am such a dullard for ever thinking otherwise.

Of course, his occasional lapse into the mispronounceable[1] could easily be attributed to the heterogeneous nation we live in. God damn the vernacular diversity of our country, why can't we all speak in accordance with the wishes of Mary Newton Bruder, God Rest Her Anal Retentive Soul.

I know that the millions of doctors, lawyers, programmers, teachers, accountants, writers, politicians, and, yes, even retail managers who fail to live up to standards set forth by the disciples of Bruder (which must include all the cerebral inclined folk who commented on my previous post) are simple minded dullards--I am just glad for all the company.

I just hope that you, the intellectual elite and inheritors of Robert's Rules of Order, apply your just and unbiased criticism to all peoples; we can all learn so much from your perfect purveyance of the English language.

Go to Hell

P.S. I wanted to write about sexual harassment but I got stuck after opening the post with, “The Whore deserves to suck on horse scrotum."

Tuesday, October 26, 2004

This isn't conclusive evidence but it does provide support for my assertion: The President isn't stupid.

Go to Hell

Sunday, October 24, 2004

Today I fired someone. I didn't enjoy the experience. Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with firing an employee for bad work performance, but I am bothered when a forty-something adult male begins blubbering like a baby. At least he waited till the end of the auction to break down.

My help continues to amaze me, and the alien overlords, with their ineptitude. In over thirty auctions we haven't been able to balance the books once. Usually, we are under thirty or forty dollars, but today we mysteriously came ahead eighty or so bucks. Dad was pleased with the result and ignored my very apt point: Our cashier continues to improperly tally the sale total, which is costing us (meaning you) money. Habitual mistakes, whether "good" or bad" in nature, signify a serious problem. Of course, he ignored me and when I tried to stress my point, he called Bob an ass. I should fire everyone, including myself.

However, the real highlight of today wasn't the blubbering ex-employee or math challenged cashier; I had the pleasure of dealing with the biggest cunts, ever. Now, I know what you are saying, "Biggest cunts, ever? Surely, you are exaggerating about the size of their vaginal cavities." Well, I am not. This mother and daughter duo are know as Canyon Grande and Canyon Almost As Grande As Fat-Ass Mother's.

Orifice sizes aside, my real problem with the girls were their rude behavior towards father and me.

Incident number one appeared very innocuous in nature. I was speaking with an elderly couple about the results of their auction the week before. Since their combined ages were nearing 190 and an auction was taking place while we were talking, I found it necessary to speak very loudly. Throughout the conversation I heard a shhhhh sound emanating from directly behind us. By the time I finished speaking with the couple the shhhh was drowning out my voice and the auctioneer's. I turned around to see the origin of the shrill shhhhh; low and behold, I spied the two cavernous sluts.

Incidents two and three dealt with the same problem: Dad's inability to write upcoming instead of next. He chose not to sell a Longaberger basket in the auction because there were several consigned already and he didn't want to overload the sale with bored housewife fodder. Now, in the previous auction he did have the basket in question on a shelf marked "Next Auction." He apologized for his apparent mistake but the gaping holes didn't take kindly to his rationale and stomped off--I believe they went to sacrifice a cow. Shortly thereafter, I attempted to soothe the savage beasts, but it was to no avail. In unison--as if they shared the same malignant tumor-- they bellowed, "It is false advertising. It is false advertising. You can't do this. Blah, blah, blah, we voted for Nader, blah, blah." I looked at them for a few moments, shook my head and promptly walked away.

I related the experience to one of my employees who responded, "They are fucking cunts. They think they are better than us. Fucking cunts." I smiled and applauded his astute observation.
It is good to know that I have one good employee, at least.

Go to Hell

Saturday, October 23, 2004

The Grudge v. Bob

Results: I spent ten hours curled up in a ball with the lights on, mind you that seven of those hours were during the day.

The Grudge - 1

Bob - Scared Shitless

Go to Hell

Friday, October 22, 2004

Linking Logs is Fun

The only place where free speech isn't encouraged: The University.

I was going to say "Be careful or you will shoot your eye out." but that seems a little insensitive. Instead, here is to the Boston Police Force and their resolute desire to shoot innocent bystanders in the eye. I imagine it is hoping too much for the officer, who seems to have difficulty differentiating between the head and body, to be severely disciplined and/or fired.

Confucius say, "The superior man likes big boobies and wings, in that order."

Go to Hell

Thursday, October 21, 2004

This seems terribly appropriate:

Casey at the Bat
by Ernest Lawrence Thayer

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The restClung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;They thought, "If only Casey could but get a whack at that—We'd put up even money now, with Casey at the bat.

But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.

But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,And Blake, the much despisèd, tore the cover off the ball;And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile lit Casey's face.And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,Defiance flashed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped—"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one!" the umpire said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar, Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand; And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;But Casey still ignored it and the umpire said, "Strike two!"

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered "Fraud!"But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate,He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate;And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.

Go to Hell

Wednesday, October 20, 2004

I want to write a short story. Actually, I want to write several dozen short stories. But, I will have to start with just one. I have mulled over one idea for nearly two years but decided it wouldn't play out so well; it seems a direct to trash bin release had a similar concept. And, writing a story about serial killers (in particular one who cuts up young college coeds) hits a little close to home, you know.

Therefore, I am going in a totally new direction, and I think it will be much easier. It involves poker, the devil, lost souls, redemption, and Helen Keller. I have always been fascinated with the morality tales dealing with the devil. How one always loses (unless it is a fiddle contest, or involving the namesake of a dictionary) when given their greatest desires. Anyway, it is my plan to have a viewable draft finished by Halloween.

I know you are asking yourselves: What does this mean to me? And, why do fuck do I care?
The answer is simple: You all are my bitch, bitches.

The time I usually devote to writing on my blog will instead be used on the story. I will probably post a link or two, maybe even a hate filled racist rant, however; it is my intention to spend the majority of my time on the computer looking up porn, then writing my story.

Wish me luck,

Go to Hell

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

Go figure: Who would have thought Syria was selling billions of dollars worth of weapons to Iraq. I always thought they were simply taking the moral high road when they objected to enforcing the UN Resolution(s).

Makes me wonder if the WMD's, the ones that so many people now say don't exist-even those the United States actually sold to Iraq, were transported over to Syria before the war began.

It is something to ponder, isn't it?

Go to Hell
Return to Puberty

Today, sanity gave way to reality. Darth Vader donned his helmet, leaving his son grasping for lies and only finding harsh truth. I want to fall asleep and wake up on morrow's eve-- I hope today is only monstrous dream. But if I slumber while locked in an everpresent nightmare, won't I awake to the same damning truth. It is a conudrum, though what would one expect in a world constructed with lies, a world that cannot accept truth.

Go to Hell

Monday, October 18, 2004

Saturday's auction was a bust. I put in two weeks of work and made -- now brace yourselves, a sum total of $300.00. As my wise teacher (who happened to live in a box) once said: Fuck that shit, pass me the ice cream and hamburger sauce!

Of course misery loves company and I am a total bitch. Now, I know that those two clauses don't seem to be related but in Bobverse it makes perfect sense.

Apparently, the women who served as our cashiers managed to "misplace" a few hundred dollars. That money will come out of father's pocket, which in turn will be taken out of mine. So, all in likelihood I will end up breaking even, and when I say even I mean making $0.00 dollars for 50 or hours of work.

Go to Hell

Sunday, October 17, 2004

Guilty or innocent--she is guilty, by the way-- Martha Stewart has no business posting on the internet, even if it is through a proxy. She is in Federal Prison Camp, though based on her post, I think my little brother had a more restrictive stay at the YMCA day camp.

If you are going to allow her to communicate with the dullards whom call themselves fans, then make her share tales of unshaven penis maimers and undercooked lemon basted salmon.

Go to Hell

Saturday, October 16, 2004

Last night I suckled on someone's teats. Whose? My own.

Go to Hell

Friday, October 15, 2004

The oil for food scandal and now this. It was probably a frenchman.

Be not proud, Pepé Le Pew, be no proud.

Go to Hell

Thursday, October 14, 2004

Bill Simmons is my hero. He is a living composite of several college buddies, minus the need to cause senseless mayhem and, plus the ability to write a functional sentence. As I said in an earlier post: I don't like sports; but I still find his weekly column(s) to be comedy gold.

Oh, and you want to know why the Yankees will always own the Red Sox:

"We've been waiting since 1918 for the Boston Red Sox to win the World Series, and ... if I had a choice between the White House and the World Series this year, I'm going to take the White House. How's that?" -- John Kerry
A Yankees politician (Rudy Giuliani) wouldn't choose between the two, he would say "I am going to take the White House and the Yankees are going to win the World Series, of course."
That is the not so subtle difference between a consummate winner and a souless liberal.
Go to Hell
Look me up in seven years.

Go to Hell
"You know, there's a main stream in American politics and you sit right on the far left bank. As a matter of fact, your record is such that Ted Kennedy, your colleague, is the conservative senator from Massachusetts." (George W. Bush, Debate # 3)

Game. Set. Match.

Go to Hell

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

I love to read; be it books, magazines, sign posts and occasional discarded condom wrapper. In all honesty, I find nothing more satisfying, entertaining and, ever increasingly, enlightening. However, I often stray from written bliss. Why? Because every book, every story, every word and every syllable threaten to expose me to me; the shadow of inner-reflection looms ominously, or at least it seems so. Yet, cowardice always gives way to knowledge, and there is always reality television to fall back on, if my ignorance quotient drops too low.

I won't bore you with anymore details, nor will I offend you with more veiled personal reflections, instead I want to recommend a couple of books. They are both compelling for different reasons, though in many ways come to a similar fruition: What it means to be a human being within the framework of society.

Fahrenheit 451 is an undeniable classic; it says so on the back cover. I first read it nearly a decade ago, during my freshman year of high school. It didn't strike a particular chord with me. I found it to be an interesting and, thankfully, short novel; not exactly a ringing endorsement of Bradbury's classic, but a very reasonable response from a student who had recently finished Great Expectations.

In short, I mentally stored it away with hundreds of other books. Shame on me for largely ignoring such a fantastic book, and damn you Dickens, damn you straight to hell. (I am kidding Charlie and do forgive you, at least in part, because Hard Times was kick-ass)

I once again picked up Fahrenheit 451 earlier the summer. I was browsing in Barnes and Nobles, and as any bibliophile will tell you: it is sin to visit a mega bookstore and not leave with at least five books. Nonetheless, I almost passed it over, except I remember Bradbury was upset that Michael Moore hijacked his titular works title. For that reason alone, I owed Ray $5.95. Since then, the book has lied unopened on the floor, until a couple nights ago. Boy, was I in for surprise.

There are four classic twentieth century novels that focus on a dystopian future. You know three, never heard of one and probably liked none of the above. 1984 is the most recognized. Brave New World is the most discussed. Atlas Shrugged is the most misunderstood (annd uknown). Fahrenheit 451 is easily the most accessible and accurate in its predictions.

Personally, I think Atlas Shrugged is the most profound of the four, however; it weighs in at over one-thousand pages, which makes it prohibitive reading for most. I don't remember much of Brave New World, except that Spock played an integral role in the mini-series. I absolutely loved 1984, except for the seventy odd pages dedicated to their love affair. And, even though I adore and pray at the altar of Rand's magnum opus, Fahrenheit 451 is the only must read of group. Almost every reader can easily relate to and synthesize this book.

I have spent two paragraphs on tangential information and haven't discussed much about the actual book; guess what, I am not going to. The book is well under two hundred pages long, so even the stupid among you should have no trouble finishing it over the course of several nights. If you trust my opinion: go read it right now; if you don't, too bad for you and your unborn children; whom will live unfulfilling lives in the midget-on-zebra pornographic industry.

My final recommendation is for a beautiful and, yes, I said beautiful, novelization of the human soul. Siddhartha is written by a crazy German (are there any other kind?) from the perspective of an Indian Brahmin seeking Atman. In laymen terms, he is a pre-7-11 Abu, born in the priestly caste, seeking enlightenment. Since I studied Hinduism and Buddhism, much of the terminology is familiar, but even for those who didn’t waste four years on a worthless major, this is a must read. Profound, happy tears streamed down my face at its conclusion. Read it or suffer samsara. (This is akin to eternal damnation, in the form of complete ignorance) I can't do the book justice, but I guarantee you will have a greater respect for life after reading it. And, like Fahrenheit 451, it is well under two hundred pages long. It took me an hour and fifteen minutes to finish, which is even fast by my standards because it was so absolutely engrossing, bordering on spellbinding.

By the way, it seems I have an affinity for novels about Asian life written by Westerners. The Good Earth still stands as the second greatest book I have ever read, the first being Charlotte's Web, of course.

Go to Hell
She might be lying, she might be crazy, god forbid--she might be a Republican: The fact is that none of it matters; a picture of the President of the United States should be placed in every elementary, middle and high school classroom. You might hate him but George W. Bush is President and should be afforded the respect that goes with the office.

It is the most important position in our society, even if recent President(s) have sullied the office. If Marx (or as you know him, John Kerry) is elected President, his picture should be placed in schools across the nation. This nation's children should respect the President and, yes, know who the fuck he is.

This isn't about partisan politics, it is insanity run amok in the form of political relativism. The terrorists haven't won, however; America may have already lost.

Go to Hell

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

Matt Stone and Trey Parker are the most reasonable men in Hollywood. I should be scared by that fact but this is Hollywood we are talking about; the only place were the progenitors of foul mouthed cardboard cut-outs, pornographic a Mormon superhero, and puppet-on-puppet sex are the reasonable ones.

Stone is absolutely correct: "If you don't know what you're talking about, there's no shame in not voting." Once again, I encourage all of you not to vote, unless you do so for the right reasons. If have to ask yourself what constitutes "the right reasons" you have no business voting. Democracy will survive without your input, so just go watch the Daily Show and let the big boys, i.e. the elderly, Asians and Republicans, take care of electing our officials.

Oh and Sean Penn,

Go to Hell

Monday, October 11, 2004

I like suspenders. In fact, I am wearing a pair right now. Is there anything more civilized than a fat man wearing suspenders? I think not.

Oh, and thanks for answering my query from a couple days ago. I hope the bayou swallows you all.

Superman is dead. Michael Keaton is next. Actually, he is good as dead already. A supporting role in First Daughter and an upcoming performance in Herbie: Fully Loaded is akin to carrer suicide. One can only hope that Toby Maguire suffers a similar fate.

Go to Hell

Saturday, October 09, 2004

It is Saturday night. What am I doing; writing a blog entry about doing nothing on a Saturday night. Go me.

I have the giant multi-dimensional spider and hamster devotees to keep me company, at least.

Anyway, I noticed a certain someone visiting my lovely domain of inane verbosity quite often. This special lad, lass or stupid ass hails from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Curiosity is a goading bitch, which makes me wonder who this person is. Most of my regular visitors I know personally, or at least, of. Do me a favor and drop me a line, or comment on this message, as to how you found this bastion of hate and why you continue to read it.

I am about the personal interaction with my readers. Actually, I am curious how all of you came to read this site, even the ones I know. I encourage my regular readers, all twelve of you, to answer the two aforementioned questions.

Go to Hell
Better Left Unsaid
A True Story from an Hour Ago

The Cast of Characters

Mom-My Mother

Issy- My Little 8 Year Old Brother

Pete- Family Dog

Me- Resident trailer-bound Cynic

Background: Issy left the back door open which allowed Pete to run wild. Mother searched high & low for several hours but could not find the puppy gone lost. Late Saturday night, Pete came home and all appeared well, but was it really?

Phone: Ring, ring, ring, get the fuck up, ring, ring-a-ding-ming

Me: Hola, comment ca va?

Mom: Why didn't you go into work?

(I can clearly hear Issy playing in the background.)

Me: I am tired.

Mom: It is 1:oo pm, how can you be tired?

Me: I went to bed at 2am, and you know I need twelve hours of sleep to function properly.

Mom: You are killing your father.

Me: He is old. Old people die all the time, don't try to blame me for cell degeneration.

Mom: Bitch.

Me: How is Pete doing?

Mom: I should kill that dog, stupid bitch.

Me: Last night, Issy said Pete smelled funny.

Mom: He was probably out fucking.

(I hear childish laughter coming from Issy and the phrase "Petey was fucking" several times.)

Me: can't say that in front of your son.

Mom: You know what fucking means.

Me: I meant in front of Issy.

Mom: Fuck you, you are the reason he is bad.

(Issy picks up the line in the kitchen)

Issy: Petey is a dog fucker.

Me: Shut up. You have no business saying that.

Issy: Bobby is a dog fucker.

Mom: Yes, yes he is.

Me: I am not.

Mom: Click

Issy: Can I am come over?

Me: No!

Issy: Dog fucker. Click

El Fin

Thursday, October 07, 2004

Ha, told you so.

Go to Hell
Who cares? It is amazing that a league of wayward P.E. teachers and closest lesbians has been a resounding failure. Go figure.

Go to Hell

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

Rodney Dangerfield died at 82 years young, yesterday. He left behind an incredible legacy of smiles, laughs and a whole lot of respect.

Go to Hell

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

I need to lose weight. My goal is to drop an Olsen twin, give or take three bulimic episodes.

Why this sudden desire to lose weight? Is it for health reasons? No, it has nothing to do with my 180/110 blood pressure reading, skyrocketing cholesterol, or inability to climb a flight of stairs: I want to lose the weight for a much more important reason; I need to get laid.

It is my sincerest hope that Bob will be able to have intimate relations by years end.

Go to Hell

Monday, October 04, 2004

I worked hard today. I won't bore you with the particulars, lets just say I spent the last ten hours lifting furniture, with the occasional break to pack boxes and speak with the geriatric. I may belittle my current profession (auctioneer) but I do have to admit, it is hard work, which is why I usually make father do the lion share of it.

Today, I felt sorry for the old man and decided to take the load off his shoulders, both figuratively and literally speaking. I learned my lesson. Hard work only leads to back spasms, groin pulls and a loss of sexual desire, just ask my father.

"Slothful I am, but horny I will always be. " (Bob, 2004)

I like quoting myself, it makes me feel special.

Go to Hell

Sunday, October 03, 2004

The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire. Or, it will be very soon. Man can have nuclear weapons, Martians may have mastered the phase-shift photon cannon, and monkeys have learned the particulars of fecal projectiles but none of these species can match the unbridled fury of nature; volcanic eruption.

And, while I am on the topic of eruptions, have you seen Teri Hatcher lately? She looks unbelievable, and yes, worthy of my sexual fantasies once more. Thankfully, she has progressed from the anorexic crack-whore look of yesteryear Radio Shack commercials and transformed herself into a goddess, once again.

I would definitely give her the how-to and why-not, wherever and whenever she wanted it.

Though, I do have some reservations touching an older woman, especially one that has popped out children. I can't compare to a child's head, maybe I will just wait for her daughter to grow up.

Go to Hell

Friday, October 01, 2004

I know that race and sports is a touchy subject, and that I am a raging racist for talking about the wedding between the two, but I can't ignore the this fact: that samurai can fucking hit.

I am only using accepted, positive racial stereotypes from now on. I am a changed man and no longer a fan of the klan.

Though, truth be told, I am still pissed about Pearl Harbor and hope that kamikaze-loving, single hitting bastard is dropped at a nuclear testing site and forced to relive Nagasaki, H-Bomb style.

Keep that last part between you and me, since I am supposed to be a reformed racist and all.

Go to Hell

The debate last night was boring and of no substantive value but it will probably garner Kerry a small, albeit extremely valuable, number of new voters.

Bush wasn't trounced by the Marxist candidate, in fact both candidates spent most of the evening spewing carefully rehearsed rhetoric, neither gaining nor losing ground to their respective opponent. However, GWB did react poorly when Kerry besmirched his record, often distorting his face into a scowl. And, John Kerry was a much more eloquent speaker, which isn't terribly important in terms of leadership but it is a must have for a successful debater.

Last night wasn't a major victory for Kerry, though it was a victory nonetheless. He proved there is still life in his paint-on-tan campaign.

I feel like being vindictive.

Go to Hell