How many college bands can you listen to?!?

I ask this only because earlier, while trying to peruse the latest movie trailers online, this one fucker just kept watching these college marching bands AT THE HIGHEST FUCKING VOLUME YOU CAN TURN YOUR COMPUTER ON!!!

And so I asked him, very politely, "hey, do you mind like turning that shit right the fuck down? I'm trying to watch some trailers at a reasonable volume, but I can't hear them because you have to listen to some shitty college marching band play some bullshit song that's been marching band-ized so people won't leave during HALFTIME!"

And he said no, so I went to my room, grabbed a hammer, came back and smashed the monitor AND tower so he couldn't watch them anymore.

Not really, no, but I did tell him that if he didn't stop, I may have to take the monitor and break it over his fucking head. Perhaps I was harsh, but seriously, once you've seen one college marching band, you've pretty much seen them all. The only things that change are the costumes and maybe what shitty songs they play, and that's about it. Because of the movie Drumline, suddenly, every single school is a Grambling wanna-be, so they trot the fuck out there, acting like they're 100 black people that have fucking rhythm, and they don't. But apparently, he doesn't like me threatening him, so he asks if I want to step outside.

"Yes, I'd love for you to step the fuck outside so I can watch at least one trailer. Just turn it the fuck down! The volumes controls are like Taco Bell cups! That is to say, a medium is really a large and a large is a "holy fuck, however can I drink all this?!"

I hate Natchitoches. I hate the college students that permeate this town like a plague of zombies that love MTV and wear Abercrombie and Fitch. I hate the fact that the town never had the foresight to build the town, instead of AROUND the train tracks, thus splitting the town into three different places that make it exceedingly difficult to get around (the river is number three in that regards), but rather, like most other towns by placing the tracks on the outskirts. I hate the fact that the people travel no faster than 10 miles an hour. Let's just say that at this point, if a terrorist wanted to blow Natchitoches right the fuck up, I'd say, "hey, Jack Bauer. Chill out on this one. Trust me, we won't be missing much."

They seriously have a railroad track right in the middle of town, splitting one side of town into two sections. And the best part of that is that you cannot bypass it, should a train decide it needs to transport goods to the needy folks of wherever. So let's assume you actually get over the tracks. You now have two options: stay straight, or turn left. If you stay straight, you get to go through a 4-way stop that defies all normal nature of a 4-way stop. That is to say, it's slower than two old people fucking. But if you turn left, at any time of the day other than, say, 5 am, it's pretty much jammed full of cars. It's like nobody but me sees the huge problem with this town.

Oh, and I was called negative the other day. Yes. Yes, I am. I am a negative asshole. I enjoy it. I revel in it. There is nothing I love more than being a complete and total dick to everyone, regardless of how nice they are to me. Why? Because it keeps you fuckers away from me.

Now, after the debacle with my PS2, I was slightly reluctant to return to Sony waters. Despite the fact that Microsoft has abandoned the XBOX like Dane Cook leaving some kids in the woods, I still see no real reason to play Playstation games or even buy a PS2. Now a PS3, that's a different fuck story, now isn't it? Resistance: Fall of Man is just badass like Steve McQueen.

But I played God of War II the other day, and this comic strip just lets you in on the awesomeness of the Chuck Norris of video games. I was over at a friend's house, and we had essentially the same conversation. Only we said that every other video game is a Strawberry Shortcake Doll. This game is the game that kidnaps those other games, beats them, then rapes them in a small, quiet patch of woods out in the middle of fuckin' nowhere.

And that, my friends, is why whenever somebody plays God of War II or it's predecessor, an angel gets its wings.

Yay for Jell-O!!!

If'n I don't get some pussy sometime very soon, I think I may have to kill somebody and fuck their corpse. And if you think I'm bullshitting, come live where I live. Nothing but hotties all over the place.

Today at work, I overheard somebody say, "all I want in a man is somebody who is kind, smart, funny, honest, and handsome."

What they really meant to say is, "I want somebody who will treat me like a bag of Paris Hilton douche and thinks that somehow, on some planet far, far, far away somebody like Carlos Mencia is funny. Carlos Mencia is funny in the same way Garfield is funny: once in a blue fuckin' moon. And that's it.

...I'm getting offtrack here, but the girl sitting next to me is a kind of "let's fuck right now on the table" sexy. I bet she's not wearing any panties.

*feigns dropping a pen*

Nope. And the dress is just rolled up slightly, with her legs parted ever so slightly, wait, scratch that, with her legs parted like she wants to climb in between them and eat her like a Jew seeing water after wandering around in the desert for 40 fuckin' years... My God, woman! I haven't gotten near a pussy this achin' to be fucked in years. She could have the intelligence of a casaba melon, I'd still fuck her 3 ways from sunday.

Come home to Jamaica.

And fuck pudding!

I honestly thought it'd be a lot harder than this to post a blog. Those of you who are my myspace friends already know this.

So I've been in Natchitoches for all of 4 days. Time to fill in the gaps, iTunes-Christmas gift style.

Saturday: wake up at the ungodly fucking hour of 7 am after spending most of Friday night at my friend Joe's house playing poker and drinking hard. I am hungover, tired and I broke down and cried like a little bitch as I was leaving his house. I pack up the remainder of my shit and me, mom and dad leave for Shreveport so we can have breakfast at the Cracker Barrel.

Saturday, 830 am: we arrive at Cracker Barrel. There's no hostess on duty, just a sign that says, "seat yourself." They should've added either the word motherfucker or bitches. Just to make things interesting.

Saturday, 855 am: waitress finally arrives to take drink and food order.

Saturday, 955 am: receive lukewarm food and blueberry pancakes that taste exactly like blueberry pancakes. If a bear ate them, then shit them out and they laid in a pile of bear poo and dirt for 3 years in a damp forest.

Saturday, 1115 am: arrive in Natchitoches. As I have always feared with the state of Louisiana, not only are the people immensely ugly, they are incredibly stupid. Not all, but most. I sign the lease and whatnot, and we begin to move me into a third floor apartment I chose solely based on the fact that a chick (whom I later learn is a total lesbian) lives there with 2 other guys. I think, "alright. 3's Company hijinks!"

Saturday, 1200 pm: mom finds stack of Playboys. All told, I only have 4 copies. Mom says to Dad, very loud and with them in hidden in plain fuckin' sight, "here, hide these in a pillowcase!" Because nobody can see them or figure out that what's being hidden in the pillowcase is dirty, naughty porn. Yeah, there's using discretion right there. Get indignant with Mom after Dad gives me disappointed, dirty look. "Ignorance can be bliss, mom, jesus!" I'm 25, single with no fuck buddy within 20 miles. Of course I own porn.

Saturday, 115 pm: meet first male roommate, begin to plan hijinks.

Saturday, 117 pm: find out first male roommate is gay. Oh yeah, so is second one. I am the only straight guy in a gay apartment.

Saturday, 120 pm: begin to think "I must move, and not fear for that I'll be butt-raped in my sleep, but because I have zero in common with two gay guys and a lesbian."

Sunday, 9 pm: meet hot, straight female friend of first gay roommate. Decide that she is indeed gorgeous and having gay friends will work to the advantage of me and my loneliness.

Sunday, 901 pm: begin to plot romantic way to sweep gorgeous, straight female friend off her feet. Ignore the advice of MTV and their devil's advertisers and decide that in order to win her heart, I must think in terms of Hitch. Thank you, Kevin James, for giving a fat, funny fellow like me hope.

Monday, 845 am: wake up and realize that for the first time since turning 21, my liver was not punished. Compensate by swearing an undying allegiance to beer forever.

Monday, 10 am: visit apartment managers, and make preparations to move into apartment with somebody I might have something in common with. Luck shines on me, and I see a baseball player with an XBOX 360 and season 2 of Entourage on DVD on floor. Also notice pot, but decide not to narc anybody out. Until now, that is, apparently.

Monday, 1147 am: call up Chris at Lack's because he's the only one not fighting with a spouse and/or willing to call me back or even pick up the phone. I am LONELY, here, fuckers. Help me out by being a friend, or bringing me women.

Monday, 737 pm: ask to watch 24 and realize that I may not be in the best place, if I have to ASK to watch my favorite TV show. Granted permission, so I dance in my head. Also meet equally sexy straight, female friend of gay roommate, part 2. Begin to regret decision to move, especially after finding out that she might be moving into the apartment in May.

Tuesday, 534 pm: Meet other hot, straight female friend of first gay roommate. Realize that decision to move was hasty. Say to myself, in private, "think Hitch."

And I'm out this motherfucker!

Come Saturday, I'll be living in Natchitoches, LA. I anticipate this being fairly permanent. I don't have a computer, and I don't know how easy I'll have access to a computer, so let's assume this is my final post.

Let say this, first of all: it has been my honor to mock and ridicule and point the stupidity of the world on a semi-regular basis for you. I will miss writing hateful, mean-spirited things about Paris Hilton. A herpes-infested gutter-slut whorebag that deserves to be beaten, raped, skinned and then drug, naked, through the streets of L.A. on broken glass. At best. I'll also miss pointing out that Bush is a retard.

So, in the time honored tradition of me giving and you selfish, needy fuckers constantly taking, I'm here to whet the jonesin' you all have for Saved by the Bell.

I'll see you when I see you.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHUCK NORRIS!!!

Today, the greatest human in the history and span of time and the cosmos turns 67. And you know what? You still couldn't kick his ass. He might be 67, but you couldn't lay a finger on him. Odd fact: Chuck Norris actually died 10 years ago, but the Grim Reaper was too much of a pussy to tell him he died.

So today, we celebrate Chuck Norris. By admiring his greatness.


Chuck Norris was once having sex in a tractor-trailer, when some of his sperm escaped and got into the engine. Today, we know this truck as Optimus Prime.

The reasons why 9.11 happened wasn't over oil. It's because the Jihadists are pissed that they can't say that there are 73 virgins waiting for them in Heaven. Just 73 women who've had sex with Chuck Norris.

According to Batman, Superman has a pair of Chuck Norris pajamas.

When Chuck Norris walks into a room, he doesn't turn on the lights, he turns the dark off.

I once read in a history book that the reason why Rosa Parks didn't get up, is because she was saving Chuck Norris' seat.

M.C. Hammer learned the hard way that Chuck Norris can touch this. That's why M.C. Hammer isn't famous anymore.

According Judas' gospel, the Romans wanted to crucify Chuck Norris with Jesus, but they couldn't get the nails through his hands. They let him off with a warning. He left them with a warning, too. We know that warning as the Book of Revelations.

The only reason Chuck Norris has never worn an Academy Award is because nobody in their right mind would give Chuck Norris a blunt, metal object. That's just suicidal.

According to Mexican legend, pinatas were made in an attempt to get Chuck Norris to stop kicking the people of Mexico. Sadly this backfired, as all it has resulted in is Chuck Norris now looking for candy after he kicks his victims.

The best part of waking up is not Folger's in your cup, but realizing that Chuck Norris didn't kill you in your sleep.

It may look, taste, smell and feel like chicken. But if Chuck Norris says it's beef, then it's fucking beef.

My friend who spent the night at Chuck Norris' house says that Chuck Norris sleeps with a nightlight on. Not because Chuck Norris is afraid of the dark, the dark is afraid of Chuck Norris.

According to the makers of calendars, they have to make a special one for Chuck Norris. It goes from March 31, and then skips to April 2. Because nobody fools Chuck Norris.

Leading hand sanitizers kill 99.9% of all germs. Chuck Norris kills 100% of whatever the fuck he wants.

Chuck Norris once visited the Virgin Islands. They're now known as The Islands.

I once saw an episode of Celebrity Wheel of Fortune where Chuck Norris was the first to spin the wheel. The next 29 minutes was everyone standing around awkwardly waiting for the wheel to stop spinning.

According to leading veternarians, Chuck Norris' dog picks up its own shit, because Chuck Norris doesn't take shit from anybody.

Let me see you on the street, I'll leave you wherever I find you, you hillbilly-degenerate motherfucker. Part 2.

Occasionally, after I've written something, I come up with a better and funnier way to make everyone laugh and say, "yeah! Let's kick some ass!!" In this one, I dissect the lyrics to Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue.


Verse 1:
American girls and American guys
We'll always stand up and salute
We'll always recognize when we see old glory flying
Theres a lot of men dead so we can sleep in peace at night
When we lay down our head

*True, but then again, veterans of World War II are dying at an alarming rate. What, that was the last time any war was fought that could arguably be about freedom. Oh, yeah right, like Ho Chi fuck Minh and his Vietcong army was gonna come rolling down Broadway flying the hammer and sickle. Even if he had somehow lived to see the outcome of the war (he died about 1 or 2 after the U.S. became involved), he still wouldn't have sent troops over here. You know why? 'Cause we would've fucked them up 3 ways from Sunday. The only good varmint poontang is dead varmint poontang. And that's all she wrote.


Verse 2:
My daddy served in the army
Where he lost his right eye
But he flew a flag out in our yard, until the day that he died
He wanted my mother, my brother, my sister and me
To grow up and live happy, in the land of the free.

*Oh really, fucknut? I was born blind in my right eye. And the son of a bitch is crossed. Top that.


Verse 3:
Now this nation that I love
Has fallen under attack
A mighty sucker punch came flyin' in
From somewhere in the back
Soon as we could see clearly through our big black eye
Man, we lit up your world like the 4th of July


*Yeah, except a sucker punch is when you don't really expect it. Kind of like the time when John Wilkes Booth assassinated Lincoln. Or when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor*. See, what makes 9.11 not a sucker punch is because, um, we had intelligence to show us that there was an attack being planned, but everybody chose to ignore the intelligence. So while it makes for a nice line in a song, it's also, uh, wrong. And we didn't light up their world like the 4th of July, so much as we dropped a bunch of bombs, and then sent in troops to kill anybody left over. If we lit up their world like the 4th of July, something tells me we'd still be talking about that shit to this day.

Verse 4:
Hey Uncle Sam
Put your name at the top of his list
And the Statue of Liberty started shakin her fist
And the eagle will fly
Man, its gonna be hell when you hear mother freedom
Start ringin her bell
And it feels like the whole wide world is raining down on you
Brought to you courtesy of the red white and blue

* The Statue of Liberty? The gift from France that's been a symbol a peace since it's design? That symbol of peace started shaking her fist? I mean, obviously not literally shaking her fist, 'cause it's an inanimate object incapable of movement without Mood Slime (trademark from Ghostbusters II) and Jackie Wilson. But you mean to tell me that you just decided that a symbol that was designed for peace to help usher in and welcome immigrants from across the world has suddenly became a symbol of WAR?! ARE YOU RIGHT THE FUCK OUT OF YOUR SMALL, GOP-LEANING MIND?!!?!?! THAT'S THE DUMBEST FUCKING THING I'VE EVER HEARD IN MY LIFE, AND MY GOVERNOR IS RICK FUCKIN' PERRY**!!!

Verse 5:
Justice will be served
And the battle will rage
This big dog will fight
When you rattle his cage
And youll be sorry that you messed with
The U.S. of A. 'cause we'll put a boot in your ass
Its the American way

*Yes, it's the American way to show how stupid and violent we are. 'Cause if we don't like how you do shit, we'll break the door down and fuck you up. Not really, no. Just if you, you know attack us. But then again, that's also the Canadian way, the Mexican way, the Australian way, the Irish way (definitely the Irish way), and pretty much any country with any self-respect way. Are you fucking serious? There's not a country or government around today that would let somebody get away with that shit if they were from out-of-town. I guaran-fuck-tee you that if an American went to Cuba and blew up a small chunk of Havana, the Cuban government would start kicking some American ass. It's just a common courtesy. Blow up your own people, that's fine, but it's kind of an unspoken rule that you don't act like a dick to everyone else. Kim Jong "Kimmie Gibler" Il knows this, but then again, he's gone insane with power and dickheaded-ness. Here, to put it another way: not even the French would allow for that pussy-ass 9/11 bullshit to go down in France. That I promise you.


Verse 6:
Repeat of verse 4

By the way, I reprinted this song without Toby Keith's knowledge or permission. If you have something to say about it, then come on down, as they say in The Price is Right. Better bring a sack lunch, 'cause I ain't no easy win, nigga. I may not be skilled in kung-fu or any of that bullshit, but I am skilled in Joe Pesci-fu.











*there is some that say that the U.S. government had intelligence pointing out that the Japanese were going to attack. I think that is some bullshit. however, we DID have the intelligence pointing out an attack like 9/11.

**by the by, I'm all for Rick Perry selling the state lotto to a private firm, except that he should've kept the part about how they might make more money than the state a secret. That's like saying, "Kennedy's assassination wasn't part of a conspiracy!" and then showing us photos of the grassy knoll with 5 gunmen with automatic rifles.