A Moment of Self Indulgence

A young lady, her sister and mother decided to shop in my store. The mother was old, the sister was frumpy (lard ass) and the young lady was cute--in an East Coast, no breasts to speak of way. They spent an inordinate amount of time (thirty minutes)--the store front is 15 x 10', at most--looking over our wares, however; I was willing to forgive their malfunctioning internal clocks, since, as I said earlier, the young lady was relatively attractive. I attempted to engage in small talk with the young lady, sadly the only thing that to mind was "hello." She nodded in acknowledgment, or was it a stifled sneeze; regardless, "hello" was the extent our conversation.

Several minutes later the fat sister smiled at me, which has to count for something--especially for lonely, fat me. The mother, apparently dismayed at the obvious lust the obese daughter was showing, deemed it time to go. The sans breast girl brought up her purchase, several political pins and I proceeded to write up a ticket.

Earlier in the afternoon, mother gave me a Slim Jim in lieu of allowing me to go to lunch. I greedily chewed it down, as if it was the last piece of beef jerky in the world. For whatever reason, call it kismet if you wish, the Slim Jim meal didn't sit well with my ironclad stomach. My daily diet has killed lesser men: I am the eater of 5,000 daily calories, the drinker of three Mt. Dew two-liters in ninety seconds, the swallower of week old, unrefrigerated pizza. Yet, this single strand of jerky would not sit still; my gut rumbled like laughing belly of Ganesh. It would know gastric freedom and so it did.

Right as I was telling the pretty, flat-chested New Englander her total, I violently exhaled an unholy air--which reeked of stale Slim Jim and rotten eggs--right into her face. In other words, I belched in the pretty girl's face.

We finished the transaction in silence, though her fat-ass whore of a sister laughed like a retarded bitch, while her mother simply shook her head in disgust.

The store made $3.00; I lost what little remained of my self respect.

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Why I need TiVo

I watched the first half of Arrested Development-Season 1. It is the funniest thing going since my first sexual encounter; though, unlike my first time, Arrested Develpment lives up to the hype and doesn't require several attempts to come to comedic fruition

Buy the DVD and further support the future of the show by watching it on Fox--if you can deal with the insidious threat to human coginizance known as commericals.

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A season of giving--lap dances

Where does charity end and free publicity for whores-on-poles begin? I wouldn't have accepted the gifts, either, however; I would encourage the unwed, welfare moms--who live in the housing project--to look into stripping as a way to provide for their children.

Give a baby's mamma a dollar and you feed her fish scales habit for a a day. Teach her to gyrate on a pole and she will smoke crack for a lifetime. (The Analects by Bob, p. 353)

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A Man Of My Own Heart

I know how he feels. When the food is too cold, the manager needs to be dismembered.

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James T. Kirk's Guide to Permissive Parenting

Here is a radical approach to child rearing. Though, I would recommend something less drastic: corporal punishment, more corporal punishment, and even more corporal punishment.

Then again, Dr. Spock knows best--though what would Dr. Leonard H. McCoy say?

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George Herman Ruth was a drunk, a womanizer and overly fond of greasy food; but he wasn't a cheating bitch.

It appears that Major League Baseball is going to develop a comprehensive steroid abuse policy. I would like to think the Player's Union and Team Owners came to this decision out of love for the game; of course, potential legislation by the likes of John McCain probably helped the process along. My only concern--actually, it is more of a thought, really--is why in the fuck is this even an issue.

Steroids are illegal. There are hundreds of federal, state and local laws that prohibit the sell, distribution and use of illegal steroids. In other words, it is against the FUCKING LAW to use S T E R O I D S. MLB--god love its corrupt soul--is not now, or has ever been, excluded from these legal mandates. McCain shouldn't have threatened new legislation; he should simply have called the appropriate law enforcement authorities. Let them set up a few stings, arrest a few dozen players, and imprison the ones who aren't willing to reveal who gave them the steroids.

I don’t care if someone uses illegal drugs, as long as you don't bitch about the consequences--jail, prostitution, retardation, anal rape and genital warts. Major League Baseball players are welcome to use steroids; in fact, I am all for a league of muscle-bound, shriveled balled, psychopaths. I am just tired of hearing about the story. Here is my solution: Ban the players who cheat, be it through the use of steroids, corked bats or gambling on ones team. Zero tolerance is a draconian measure, but any policy that makes paupers of millionaires is a good thing in my book.

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Prolicide

What is the greatest threat of Islamo-fascism? Some will say it's nuclear and chemical warfare, others will contend its the loss of liberty, most fear the advent of domestic terrorism--suicide bombers come to the Suburbs, and I can't take umbrage with these fears, and I don't know what the singular greatest threat is, or even if one nightmarish scenario takes precedence over another. I do know this, however: The greatest evil caused by Fascism, be it Islamic or secular in a nature, is the destruction of innocence. The attacks on 9/11 stand as the vilest act of terrorism in history, yet that event, along with all other terror attacks, pales in comparison to the destruction being wrought on the souls of millions of children.

Children become adults; it is the chronology of man. Along the way, we become less naive, cast off the shackles of ignorance and lose a good deal of childhood innocence. The point is that children grow up and lose much of what makes them so precious--innocence. However, as I said earlier, this is a natural phenomena, it is the key component of the human condition and one that we all experience, in one form or another. The problem is that Islamic terrorism doesn't allow this process to occur, nor does it simply hasten it--like our culture of sex, violence and egocentricity does,-- instead it actively seeks to destroy the innocence of children; replacing it with vitriol hate and willful ignorance.


The Jews eat children; they rape our women and kill our men. The United States is the progenitor of all that is unholy, they value freedom over Allah, place life before honor and, worst of all, they support the Jews. We must kill the infidels, at all costs. Sacrifice your life and know absolute bliss, otherwise you risk eternal damnation at the hands of Western devils and treacherous Jews. In other words, the West is bad, America is worse, and the Jews are pure evil.

This is taught to countless children, it is force fed from birth and continually reinforced throughout adolescence. This dogma is responsible for the deaths of their children's souls. There is no worse crime, there is no greater evil. They are replacing the ignorance of naiveté with the ignorance of blind hate. The fact that this is done under the guise of religion makes pure evil somehow worse.

President Bush used the term Axis of Evil, and he was absolutely correct in doing so. He limited the term to several nations, though it truly applies to many more.(That is a post for another day) These nations feed their children a steady diet of hate; generation after generation is lost. It isn't about economics, it isn't about values and morality, it isn't about truth: It is about the annihliation of youth and the price that comes with it. Fascism is responsible for the deaths of millions and destruction of innocence in so many more.

I wish that we could fight hate with love; that truth overcomes lies; but I fear there is little that can be done externally, leaving the reclamation of their children's souls to the same people that allowed them to be taken away in the first place.

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I am an asshole

A friend told me that I am too cynical. He believes I think the worst about people, places and things. He was very smug about his observation, as if he had made some grand discovery that escaped the notice of everyday man. Of course, I am cynical about life; just as birds fly, fish swim, and the ACLU harbors terrorists, I see the worst in existence. It is my natural inclination, if you will.

However, upon further introspection, which took about thirty seconds of thought--fifteen of which dealt with killing squirrels, I concluded it wasn't cynicism alone that informed my being. I not only see the worst, I actively hope for it. In other words, I take joy in the failings of others, if only to prove my cynicism correct. The foulability of man isn't enough; his outright and utter failure is what I desire. Then again, that's just me.

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Moral Quandary

Is it wrong to want to hit this? The more I learn about her case, the more I want to lick in-between her toes.

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Confederacy of One

I am the Ignatius Reilly of the twenty-first century. Many of you may not know who Ignatius is. Simply stating that he is the literary equivalent of Bob is not enough. Mr. Reilly, whose creation may very well have resulted in Toole's (the author) suicide, is a literary character without equal or merit. He is a loathsome, egocentric madman who sees modernity as hopeless corrupt; he fights against the oppression of everyday by virtue of sleeping, eating, watching cartoons and reveling in his flatulence. Yet, even this bloated messiah of intemperance has good points; sadly they are buried underneath a labyrinth of lard and intellectual nihilism.

I don't particularly like the character, but I can't deny we are very much alike. I spend my days in self-exile, pondering the inevitable end of civilization, bemoaning the barbarians within our own gates. Too, I watch an unhealthy amount of cartoons, consume an even unhealthier amount of food and suffer from insufferable bouts of gas--my pyloric valve is a difficult mistress. Our greatest similarity is not surprising, at least for those who have read the book and know anything about my person, we both find work to be a pedestrian cause; it is an end to reason, not a means to an end.

I do admit that finding my entire psyche, the entirety of my being, encapsulated in a little under four hundred pages is a bit depressing. Though, much like the book, my life consists of a series of comedic disasters, however; unlike Reilly, I am not destined to escape the mono-color walls, no, Bob is clearly set for a long stay in the ward of mental delving.

There truly is a Confederacy of Dunces that stands in my way; it is a Confederacy of one--me.


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