Crossed Eyes for the Blind, a Political Movement

Random Thoughts of the Day

2006-06-01T11:37:00.000-07:00

If deodorant were edible I would eat it so long as it made my tongue stop smelling like a 59-year old butt hole.

At the age of 23, I look back on my life and wonder why I’ve never owned a monkey.

Thank God I’ve never been in a love triangle with a grizzly bear and a light switch. I wish I could say the same about my father.

Sorry Danny Devito, Short, fat and untalented isn’t my type. Though you were delightful in that one movie, March of the Penguins.

Love is like a hand job from a stripper: rough, expensive and demoralizing.

Hey pretentious douche bag on the Segway…..can I have a ride? That shit looks fucking fun.

I went to the doctor and he said I was masturbating too frequently. I then asked him if I should be masturbating three frequently.

It’s hard to get anyone to take you seriously when you live on the corner of Cum-smear and Tit-swallow.

I would grow a beard if I didn’t already have one.

Moving makes me feel sad. Heroin makes me feel happy. So do you think moving heroin would make me feel indifferent?

If I were to get stabbed I would want it to be in the shoulder because I already have a blade there.

Is the tip of my penis supposed to be this yellow?

What’s worse: smoking or eating a can of horse shit, because I do both daily.

Perfect Pubes

2006-01-10T16:16:00.000-08:00

The best thing about having free time is the amount of time you can allot to trimming and managing your pubes. Mine are nearly perfect now.

I Love Porn Way Too Much to Start a Family

2006-01-09T21:04:00.000-08:00

As I sheepishly wiped what was an embarrassing small amount of male spunk-sauce off my stomach for the sixth time within the seven O’clock hour, I pressed the rewind button on my VCR to get Fuzz Bump II back to scene IV when I had an epiphany: I love porn way too much to ever start a family.

Don’t get me wrong, having a wife a bundle of kids would be a joyous miracle and true testament of compassion, love, devotion and togetherness, but so too is a triple gang-bang inside the ever-constricting confines of a Boeing 707 lavatory as featured in the cult-classic “Ready for Takeoff up Your Ass”. The difference: a family lasts forever whereas a porn scene lasts seven minutes, or 14 if it’s one of those really long, drawn out scenes with intense slow-motion shots of some slut grunting like she’s getting stabbed in the back, her perspiring bosom gleaming against the candle flickers, his strong arms forcefully twisting her body into positions even the most talented contortionist would be envious of. Look at me getting all carried away. God I love porn.

Could you really see me with a family anyways? I would be the world’s worst father. If I don’t have the patience to wait for a two minute clip to finish buffering without breaking into sweaty fits of masturbation and self-inflicted nipple pinching, I certainly won’t have the fortitude to drive my children to soccer practice, teach them the complexities of long-division, and show them how to download some of the best girl-on-girl action in the world. Ok, so maybe I would be good at some things.

But children shouldn’t have to grow up with a father addicted to porn. Their childhood would me marred with painful recollections of their father beating off to pocket-porn everywhere they went. No child should have to watch their father beat off to Latino slut on while riding Splash Mountain. Plus, my children would probably end up with some lustrous porn name. Their peers would have a hay-day with names like Chester Cumswell (1st male child), Shirley Cum-Buttons (1st female child) or Moose Briarcock (next child, male or female).

I wouldn’t be able to provide my children with all their wants and desires. For example, if my boy wanted a poster of a black, 1982 Lamborghini for his wall, I could only offer him a poster of a black chick born in 1982 shoveling a banana up her thingy. If my little girl wanted a doll I would have to sacrifice my Stephanie Swift blow up love doll with a vagina and anus made of a stretchy rubber material to compensate for all the stretching and tearing that goes along with making love to a mound of rubber.

And hanging with a wife would be a bitch. I couldn’t handle dinner parties and family reunions. I would be forced to talk about some plebeian avocation like the industrialization of some stupid shit when at heart I only want to drop obscure facts about Tera Patrick’s illustrious 11-year porn career. Hey, did you know Tera’s first anal scene, featured in the 2000 Nicholas Steel’s thriller “Caribbean Undercover”, was filmed in the living room of porn legend Ron Jeremy’s Sherman Oaks mansion. Pretty weird considering they only used 2.7 ounces of KY jelly.

As you can see, I’m clearly too selfish at this stage of my life to have a family cock-blocking me and I’ve worked hard to get myself in the position where I can watch 17 hours of porn a day. Having a family would destroy that. The sacrifice would be too much and, at the age of 13, I don’t think I would be asked to give up my MSN screen name “Bukkaki_Jockie_18” and replace it with some dull, family-oriented name like “Family_Dad_Kids”. No, no, no. A family is not for me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must return to my favorite hobby.

Stay Away from Everything, Except Bananas

2006-01-05T22:08:00.000-08:00

“Do you know where professor Bermill’s office is?” I was sitting in the shade waiting for my friend Sean to get out of swim class. He didn’t have a cell-phone because he’s Jewish and wished not to complicate his bank account by deducting money from it, so I had to be like a surgeon when meeting up with him. I had agreed to meet him outside his class and was fine with that until this haggard voice cut into my day-dreaming.

“Professor Bermill? No, I have no idea. Did you check the directory services at the Doe Library?” This man had just come out of the Hearst Annex, which houses some fossils from the anthropology department and a women’s gym. He clearly had no fucking idea where he was and would probably have a brain aneurism trying to find the Doe Library.

“Fuck man, this Bermill guy’s a fucking genius. He knows more about calcium and potassium than anyone I’ve ever met, a true bad ass.”

“Yeah, sounds like it man,” I said.

He lit a cigarette and took a puff. I tried to act callous, but I could tell this guy had been through the shit, and I’m not just talking about his recent experiences in the women’s gym. He had seen better days, and those days were filled with bombs, muck diving and utter horniness and despair, probably in Vietnam but also via flashbacks every time he saw an Asian, which is quite frequently around the Berkeley campus. This man looked familiar, like the creepy uncle everyone but me wishes they didn’t have. He was a spitting image of Al Pacino and Jim Varney’s child if they were able to procreate and then if that child was able to have reproduce with a ferret. He had a deep smoker’s voice and had clearly been experience in the art of puffing down tar. I saw bruises on his forearms. It looked bad, but I bet his mind had gone through twice that.

Despite my judgments, I found this man to be a compelling testament to the human spirit. This man had been through it all, maybe twice, and he had the audacity and strength to still pursue intellectual interests at Berkeley. I decided to listen.

“So why do you want to see this Professor Bermill genius?” I questioned.

“You see this book?” I noticed he was holding a hard-covered book with a red cover. “This book has changed my life. He wrote it.” I nodded in confused understanding. The book was either born in the Forties or he had flipped through it so many times in was worn down to a fragment of what it once was, just like him. I decided to open the car of worms he was begging that I pry open.

“What’s his book about,” I asked, suddenly wanting a cigarette but then reminding myself that I don’t smoke, especially around old fossils in women’s gyms.

“Oh man, you opened a can of worms with that question. There’ so much in here it’s fucking ridiculous.” He opened the book and I could see that nearly every word was underlined, sometimes twice, and when he felt especially compelled he used circles. All and all the book looked more like a coach’s playbook than a dietary book, though I’ve never seen either. This book was his bible and he seemed a devout believer in it. Even if some of the material seemed to be a stretch, it certainly was more practical and scientific than the Bible, however so is a coloring book. I wondered if it was sac-religious to underline things in the bible, but discarded the idea as a useless thought.

“I don’t know where to start. I’ve underlined the fucking Jesus out of this book.” I again wondered if you could do that with the Bible. “Bermill’s and this Steiner guy tell you what you can and can’t eat what chemicals, amino acids and ingredients to eat and which to stay away from. Fucking Genius.”

I started to realize that I wasn’t going to get a word in and thus went into nod and smile mode as I usually do with old people and sports news.

“I mean, I’m a mess. I’ve been through the shit, sometimes I joke that I’ve been through it twice. I’m a diabetic and I’ve got arthritis and I think I might have cancer or some shit.” I nodded. “All this shit has been brought on because of all the horrible food I used to eat. Everything has toxins in it. Toxins. Toxins. Toxins,” he said, particularly emphasizing the word toxins and foreshadowing how much he was going to be saying the word in the near future. “Fucking everything. Toxins.”

I didn’t know how to respond, but he continued to talk so I didn’t have to.

“Too many toxins out there and they’re worse for us than the terrorists. Look around and you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

I looked around and noticed a golf cart. I fucking love golf carts and always fantasized about owning one. I had a friend who lucky enough to tear his MCL and thus was given a golf cart to get him around the undulating Berkeley campus. He loved that golf cart. Every time I saw him, he would be cruising around in that cart, subtly rubbing in the fact that I owned a grand total of zero, but I was thankful his aliment provided him with the opportunity, and so were old ladies. He used to speed around campus looking for the oldest bag he could find, and once located, he would offer them a free ride. My other friend Tom would sit in the back drinking beers and smiling. Later, my friend KC crashed the cart and was down-graded to crutches. He didn’t like them nearly as much.

A loud and piecing “Fucking Toxins” pulled me out of my day-dream tangent and back to the reality at hand.

“Most of America’s obese. Everyone’s got cancer or diabetes or both and you know why? The toxins. Everything has them. Your fucking cat has them,” he rallied on. I didn’t have a cat, but if I did, it would be filled with toxins, thus preventing me from eating it. Damn.

“Well, if you can’t even eat your cat, then what can you eat?” I queried.

“Fuck, even water has toxins in it. We are basically drinking shit water.” I took a sip from an avian bottle I filled up at a library drinking fountain. “And you know what bread has in it?”

“Toxins?” I guessed.

“Fuck yes toxins. The terrorists are the FDA administrators and the farmers and the cows. Fuck toxins.” He lit another cigarette.

“Well, then what can you eat?” I questioned again.

“I’ve got one word for you,” he said with genuine enthusiasm.

“Plastics?” I said with a tint of condescension.

“No, potassium,” he said, not getting the joke.

“I was close.” He ignored my comment as he did with most things I said.

“Bananas and a few other non-processed fruits are about it. The water here is shit water. They get all the toilet water, filter the shit out of it and give it to us, so bottled water’s about all you can drink. But yeah, potassium is great. If you have enough in you nothing can touch you, not cancer, not diabetes, not arthritis. Nothing.” He took a long puff from his cigarette. “I can do whatever I want if I have potassium. That’s why I smoke. Potassium keeps cancer away.”

His logic didn’t make much sense to me, but I really wasn’t in the mood to question it. Plus, he has evidence in the form of a book and everything in print is fact, as proven by the Book of Mormon. All the information in Bermill supposedly backed what he was saying and he had made it into his Bible. Potassium played the role of God. I didn’t want to question him, not to his narrow face at least.

“So I’ll I have to do is eat bananas and I can then eat anything and smoke anything I desire?”

“Yeah, except hamburger bums,” he said taking another puff of his smoke. I was really eager to smoke one, and then chase it down with a banana. He continued, “Potassium is a miracle and Bermill proved it in this book with science or experiments or some shit.” His voice was getting rapier probably because he hadn’t eaten a banana in the few minutes he was talking to me. “You wan one?”

“A cigarette? No I don’t smoke,” I reminded myself.

“No a banana. I don’t give up my smokes.” He reached into his bag and pulled out an elongated, yellow banana.

I grabbed it from him. “Thanks.”

“Well, I’ve got to go find this Bermill faggot,” he said, suddenly transforming him from hero to fag with one lash of the tongue. “I hope he still works here.”

“Yeah, me too, me too,” I said almost to myself as he limped away. My friend finally approached with an astonished grin plastered on his face.

Sean talks like a corvette. “Who was that? Thanks for meeting me here. What’s with the banana?”

I usually picked one question to answer. “Oh, that guy was just teaching me how to get away with smoking.”

“Oh. What? How? Do you want to get something to eat?” Sean shot off.

“Sure,” I smoothly replied.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing, I’ve got a banana.”

Partying Too Hard

2006-01-03T23:37:00.000-08:00

I think I'm partying way too hard lately. For example, just the other day I found a dead baby at the bottom of a bath tub full of empty beer cans. The Weirdest part: I didn't even own a bath tub at the start of the night. I'm still trying to piece together everything, but pretty sure that crazy baby must have talked me into purchaing it. DAMN YOU CRAZY BABY. I would try to return it, but I still think their might be some beer in some of those cans, and maybe a lot in the baby. Plus, I called the store and they don't take any bath tubs back without a receipt and a non-dead baby. I have neither. DAMN YOU CRAZY BABY. Why do you have to be so dead all of the time? I need to stop drinking and start having more babies.

Tagline for New Zealand's Travel and Tourism Bureau

2005-12-20T21:26:00.000-08:00

Lord of the Rings was film here we think, though we’re not entirely sure because our country hosts more goats than people and we have asparagus that grows taller than most of those people. Visit New Zealand today.

2005-12-09T12:44:00.000-08:00

And for the second time in one week my life as been ruined by an Iranian genius.

Time Well Spent

2005-12-06T01:21:00.000-08:00

I spend most my time trying to reinvent the blow job and the rest of the time thanking God that I can't get porn pregnant.

Who would play you?

2005-12-01T15:05:00.000-08:00

Eric: If someone was going to play you in a movie, who would it be?
Roger: Easy, Samuel L. Jackson.
Eric: What? Dude your as white as the powder you must be putting up your nose. You look nothing like him. He's bald, black, and can grow facial hair.
Roger: I can grow facial hair [Pause]. Ok, so I can't grow it yet, but soon.
Eric: Soon? You’re 32 years old. You will never grow facial hair.
Roger: Ok, maybe not, but my mother's father is bald.
Eric: So what. That's doesn't change your skin color. Samuel L. is black. You're white.
Roger: I can tan.
Eric: You're an Albino.
Roger: Ok, yeah so maybe I'm not an exact clone of Samuel L., but we have very similar personalities and mannerisms.
Eric: What? He's cool, a true badass, and a smoker. You’re lame. I remember that one time you wouldn't let that girl into your apartment because her aunt, whom she hadn't seen in three months, was a smoker.
Roger: That girl sucked.
Eric: That girl turned into my girlfriend of three years after I chased after her and explained to her what a stick-up-your-ass prude you were.
Roger: What a bitch.
Eric: You are so full of shit. Samuel L. Jackson? Give me a fucking break.
Roger: Well, who the fuck would play you Mr. Hotshot?
Eric: Who me? I'd probably say Wesley Snipes.
Roger: I could see that.

2005-11-29T15:27:00.000-08:00

That was like watching a midget give birth to a litter of over-sized axes: hilarious.

Kids Tell the Best Jokes Ever, those little fucking idoits

2005-11-28T19:23:00.000-08:00

I was flying back to San Francisco today and I heard a small child across the isle ask, "Do you want to hear a joke?" I wasn't sure if her snot-nosed sister cared to, but I sure did. I was sandwiched between two fat asses the whole flight and was looking for anything to take my paranoid mind off of thinking I was going to be eaten, so I listened in and heard this:

Q: Why was the monkey so full?
A: It ate too many volcanos.

Laugher insued, but not from her sisters. From me. The mother gave me a creepy glance and an additional creepy glance when I returned her child's toy pony that she had left behind after the flight.

An Open Letter from Lee Patterson, World’s Ugliest Man

2005-11-21T15:17:00.000-08:00

Dear Everyone,

I have finally cleared of enough Cheetos wrappers and empty Cherry Coke kegs off my desk to sit down and address some of my growing concerns via open letter to everyone more attractive than me. I realize it’s strange to address a letter to all of earth’s 6,372,797,742 billion inhabitants, but I think it’s time you heard the voice behind the man you thought was the star of the movie “Hey Look at that Ugly Fat Ass”, which was actually never filmed.

So ok, I get it, I’m ugly. I know my left leg is 217-pounds over-weight. I know my tongue isn’t supposed to produce obscene amounts of dandruff. I know having three extra fingers on each ear lobe doesn’t meet society’s standards of attraction. I know I’m about as attractive as a portfolio of Enron stock, but do have to remind me every half second of every half second? Was that negative 2,867 rating on hotornot.com really necessary? Do you actually need to hide your children’s eyes and voraciously explain to them that I’m just practicing for next Halloween by dressing as retarded Shrek? People, I am not your all-encompassing target for ridicule. I have feelings too and those feeling aren’t as deformed as coved with pockmarks as my body, so stop it.

Hey Hollywood directors, please stop asking me to star in the remake of David Lynch’s “Elephant Man”. I know casting me would save over two million dollars in costume and make-up expenses, but a successful remake is unrealistic, especially since I look more like a rhino/giraffe/gazelle-she-thing than an elephant man.

Hey plastic surgeons please stop casually slipping me your business card. Having fingernails on your face honestly isn’t that bad and I actually like the Rosie O-Donnell-shaped skin-tag on my neck. And for God sakes, stop sneaking into my room with your team of all-star surgeons in an attempt to perform gastro-bypass and breast reduction surgery as I sleep. I can hear you coming and you’re only making me uglier.

Hey animal control, stop launching tranquillizers at me every time I step out of my house. Hey Sasquatch, quit sending me love letters. Hey Jurassic Park enthusiasts, do you want to watch a screening of Jurassic Park III at my place on Friday. I fucking love that movie.

The rest of you continue to criticize the fact that I’ve “never” “had” “sex” “with” “a” “woman”, but you don’t realize how hard it is to find a condom shaped like Lombard Street for my curvy penis, especially when that same penis has a restraining order on me. Most of you assume that I’ve never been with a lady. Not true. I actually dated a pretty female woman girl in high school named Bethany Bulmer. We were a cute couple in a sort of ugly way. We had matching lisps and were bonded through our mutual battle with level four gingivitis and gum disease. Our high school hailed us as a celebrity couple. For example, the Fighting Barnacles Yearbook voted us “Most Likely to be too Obese to Ever Engage in Sexual Intercourse” our freshmen, sophomore, junior and senior years, and twice after we graduated. Boy were they right. I wonder what Bethany’s doing these days. Last I heard she had made herself quite popular on the Internet under the alias “Tub Girl”. Look her up some time.

But not all of you are so bad. Whoever leaves me baskets of donuts on my front porch each morning, thank you, and could you please stop filling those donuts with poisonous bear traps. I just ask you all start treating me like I’m more that just the ugliest man in the world and stop planning family vacations around my back acne problem. Grow up people, but in the mean time go have sex with sharp objects.

Sincerely,
Lee Patterson

Presenting Bad News

2005-11-21T15:15:00.000-08:00

Not everything in life is puppies and flowers. Sometimes those puppies have gangrene and those flowers are really assassins with eye patches. Other times those puppies are gangrenic assassins with flowers in their hair and butterfly knives. Regardless, here are some tips for telling bad news so that next time the stripper’s death will come off as almost accidental.

Tip #1: Make it into a game.

Father: I hope you been having a good birthday son, I know you always wanted to be an actor, so I have a great surprise for you.
Timmy: Really? What is it?
Father: Our whole family is going to be in a film!
Timmy: We are!! Oh boy!
Father: The plot is as follows: your mother and I are going to get a divorce because you are a selfish little brat that has ruined our love life. The movie should take about twenty years to film or until you kill yourself, which ever comes first. It starts…now!
Timmy: [wide-eyed] Bu-but I don’t see any cameras.

Tip #2: Talk about a related topic.

Fred: So I get to meet Magic Johnson after the game right?
Father: Oh yeah, for sure. I called Magic last night. It’s all worked out.
Fred: Yippy!! [Waves towel as guy behind him spills his forth beer on Fred’s head] I’m going to shake his hand and get his autograph and…
Father: Your mother and I have AIDS.

Tip #3: Deliver the news when they feel sorry for you.

Jimmy: Dad…this bone marrow transplant procedure…I’m really nervous. You know I heard that it is kind of dangerous.
Father: You know son, you don’t have to do the transplant procedure for me anymore.
Jimmy: I don’t! [face brightens] You mean they found another donor?
Father: No son, you’re adopted.

Tip #4: Bake a Cake.

Samantha: Man I’m so excited!
Boss: [bringing out the cake] We all would like to congratulate you for receiving that promotion. We are all looking at the New Assistant to the Vice President of Sales.
Samantha: But that’s the job I have now!
Boss: April Fools!! Ha-ha…but seriously, you’re fired.

Tip #5: Make a doctor do it.

Doctor: [shows picture] And what do you see in this inkblot?
Jimmy: …umm…I think…it’s a cow dancing on a tombstone?
Doctor: Good, good. [Shows next picture] And what of this?
Jimmy: [shocked] Why…why that’s not an inkblot at all…that’s just a vivid close-up photograph of my wife blowing my best friend!
Father: [opens door] Oh don’t mind me, I’m just here to remind Jimmy he’s adopted. [Sees picture] Ohh…you know, I have that photo framed if you want.

Tip #6: Just don’t tell. Ever.

Blind Man: [on fire] Man it’s hot today. What is it…like 95 or something?
Richard: …er…yeah…
Blind Man: [engulfed in flames] Are you sure? I mean, are you sure that I’m not on fire or something? I mean there’s no reason not to tell me. I am a certified fireman with a fire extinguisher in my hands…I am also mere inches away from a fire blanket.
Richard: …uh…no man, you’re cool.
Man Walking By: [shocked] Oh my god! That man’s on fire!
Blind Man: [resembling Dante’s inferno] What did he say?
Richard: uh…he said…um…do you like Mike Myers?

Tip: Give them hints of the bad news in the form of presents.

Father: Happy Birthday Lisa! Eight years old…wow! Come on and open your presents.
Lisa: Yippy!! [Tears open first present] Cool! It’s a ball of superman’s hair!
Father: No Lisa, that’s a wig. Open this one.
Lisa: [tears open next present] Wow, cool! A bunch of dishes filled with paint. I’m going to draw a dino-doggy!
Father: Actually, that’s some of your father’s bone marrow. You might want to put that somewhere cold.
Lisa: Oh…well, I’m going to open this one. [Tears open last present] A t-shirt! What does it say?
Father: Well…it says, “Cancer: it will really grow on you.”
Lisa: What does that mean?
Father: It means you better grab a jacket because we’re going to go see Dr. Bernstein. He’s going to be injecting you with birthday presents for the next 14 weeks.

Investment Advise Angers Midget

2005-11-08T13:21:00.000-08:00

Stockbroker Lyle Lynch delivered a subtle ‘fuck you’ to his littlest client, Miles Mutter, yesterday after informing him of Lasertech Inc.’s potential growth rate when compared to other competitors in the market. After a strong third quarter, increasing earnings per-share, and an elevated PE ratio, Lynch noted that Lasertech Inc. would be a great equity investment for Mutter.

Upon reviewing his highly reputable financial advisor’s suggestion, Mutter asked Lynch “what the fuck he was implying” before kicking him what was described as being “ready hard” in the what was described as being “the shins”. “He kicked me really hard in the shins,” said Lynch after the incident.

Mutter later explained his erratic behavior: “I went in there for investment advice, and all of a sudden he started talking about a ‘Pee-wee ratio’, reminding me that I’m only ‘three quarters’ the height of most, and that I have no growth potential. I’m so sick of hearing about things getting bigger when I’m stuck being smaller than a black man’s cock.” Mutter later apologized to Lynch, but relatives say this wasn’t the first time they’ve seen Mutter snap after misinterpreting quips about his height. In 1991 Mutter reportedly bit his Aunt’s stomach after gifting him a set of He-Man Shrink-a-dinks.

Despite the conflict, Lynch still holds Lasertech as a strong buy. “It’s a really sturdy company and its profits will continue to grow larger even after five years, unlink midgets, aaah, I mean dwarfs

Anorexic Girl Unknowingly Partakes in Muslim Holiday

2005-10-28T14:36:00.000-07:00

Most insulting thing you can say to a griving friend after his mother dies

2005-10-28T13:19:00.000-07:00

Listen, Jon, you really need to get your cock out of your mothers grave.

Spice up the Night With Some Spit on Your Tit

2005-10-26T17:25:00.000-07:00

So I was down in Palm Springs this weekend being rich and what not. Holly and I decided to go to this dance club at the hotel called Costas. I really didn't want to go, but risked not getting a blowjob if I refused so I went.

We got there, had an overpriced drink, then hit the dance floor. We grinded genitals to poetic Black Eyed Peas songs for awhile then I looked over and noticed a young Latino couple getting their groove on. The male look the type who would brag about beating the shit out of his girlfriend and the girlfriend looked like she would date a guy who would brag about beating the shit out of his girlfriend. He probably worked at Target and stole DVDs when ever possible. She probably worked at Walmart and stole make-up when ever possible.

I soon became more interested in watching the couple than dancing so I decided to call for a dance break (which is the opposite of a break-dance) to focus my attention on the watching the couple’s interesting dynamics. I was highly entertained. As I sipped my Gin and Tonic I noticed a slight smirk formulating just below the Latino's scrappy mustache. Shit was about to go down. Without batting an eye the guy spit directly on his girlfriend's left breast. I don't know where this genius got the idea, but it seemed to go over well, because the girl smiled, turned around and forced her ass straight into her boyfriend’s crotch.

I asked Holly to dance again. After a couple of bored minutes I got the idea to try the Latino's new affectionate move on Holly. It didn't go over well. No Blow Job for me. Moral of the Story: Don't spit on your girlfriend’s boobs or she won't blow you...unless she's Latino. Apparently Latino women love to have their boobs spit on. Try it next time you’re out.

Patriotic Condom Quotes

2005-10-26T17:02:00.000-07:00

I think I have a business idea: Patriotic Condom Quotes. The product will be a condom displaying the American Flag and quotes from some of our most esteemed Americans. Safe sex would feel so much better with a solid Ben Franklin quote running along your patriotic cock and an applicable quote would make the whole act so much rewarding and educational. For example, if you are about to have a threesome and plan on murdering the woman after copulation, then use the "Three may keep a secret if two of them are dead". If you are having morning sex with that special someone then use the "Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise" or if you are unknowingly packing a huge cock, use the "Tis easy to see hard to foresee". If you are about to shag a STD-laden prostitute, then use the "He who lieth down with dogs, shall rise up with fleas" or for the monotonous sex with your wife of twenty years, use the "Keep your eyes wide open before marriage, half shut afterwards". If you’re that lonely guy doing the whole ‘self-satisfying’ thing, then go with the “God helps them that help themselves” quote. Regardless of the situation, there will be a perfect Ben Franklin quote to go among with the act. And boy will you look patriotic while you stuff your American Cock into that American pussy. I need investors. Who's with me?

Best Stoner Movies of All Time

2005-10-20T15:48:00.000-07:00

Raging Bowl
Harold and Maude go to White Castle
Take the Munchies and Run
Some Like it Pot
Mr. Holland's Opium
Schindler's Bong
ETHC
H.A.S.H
Casablunta
There's Something About Mary Jane
Joint Break
City Slackers

Blood Type

2005-10-12T17:52:00.000-07:00

Dudes, found out I'm blood Type A. Let me know if you need any.

I Want a King

2005-10-11T16:26:00.000-07:00

Everyone has such high standards for their rulers and kings. I'm so sick of hearing phrases like, "Our leaders should know better" or "He should be better than us" or "He should butter his banana bread better”. Though I like to bash Bush as much as I like to fuck it, part of me enjoys having such an incompetent leader. In fact I wish he were more incompetent. I'm not talking Michael J. Fox/Terri Schiavo offspring incompetent, but incompetent, good and pure. Here are some credentials I seek in a King:

I want a king that can suck his own dick but has the will-power and pose to never do it on Wednesdays while dressed in a Sea Otter Suite.

I want a king that gets so fucked up he wakes up and doesn’t know where he is, but then soon realizes he's in the Champaign room of his friend Ernie's strip club.

I want a king who has a friend named Ernie who, in addition to owning a Strip Club, owns a Sea Otter Suite and that he willingly lends it to his King friend on every day but Wednesdays.

I want a king so corrupt that he does that one thing where you stick the break clip in the vending machine to get a free gum ball. I swear to God it works!!!

I want a king that doesn't serve burgers, unless they’re made from 100% FDA certified mad cow disease.

I want a king that so much richer than Bill Gates that he has three gold Rolex watches on each wrist, but is so charitable that he willing donates two of those watches to Bill Gates.

I want a king that has the gonads to protect all endangered species from protectionist trying not to make them into fixtures on rich people's mantles.

I want a king who is not white, black, brown, orange, yellow, purple, green or pink but a combination of all those colors except black.

I want a king that does drugs while in office not before.

I want a king that refers to 'morning wood' as 'slumber lumber' and has Paul Bunyan (his right hand) chop it down each morning.

I want a king that thinks the Lord of the Ring Pinball Machines is waaaay better than the books.

I want a king that can grow a mustache but instead decides to grow marijuana in his closet. The mustache will come if he's truly committed to getting high and watching Magnum PI reruns every day.

I want a king that delegates work to others, especially if that work involves mopping goat shit off his girlfriend's feet and yes his girlfriend is a goat.

I want a King that is so fearless of spiders that he willingly makes a servant eat a whole sack of them.

I want a king that can balance his own check book...on his nose.

I want a king that openly encourages gays to marry before shipping them off to a deserted island to later be Tsunamied.

I want a king that invents words like Tsunamied.

I want a king so dedicated to his cause that he starts a wet t-shirt contest in even the most remote areas of Antarctica.

I want a king that organizes beard-growing contests between albinos and arm-wresting contests between arm amputees.

I want a king that takes spoonfuls of Barbeque sauce from prostitutes and then watches her shake her ass while saying "Bam" "Bam".

I want a king that gives all his money to charity and then demands it back with he realizes he is no longer has enough money to buy crack rocks.

I want a king who naps during the day and spills mustard on his bib during the night, while he naps.

Husband and Husband

2005-10-03T16:32:00.000-07:00

In a gay male marriage, are both members considered to be Husband? When making introductions does this happen:

Gay 1: Oh, hello. This is my husband.
Person 1: Nice to meet you. Your husband and I are friends from a long time ago. We met on a safari in Africa.
Gay 2: Yes my worldly husband has had a very active and exciting life. But we've settled down now and are a happily married husband and husband.

I'm confused.

Being Rich isn't All that Easy

2005-09-30T13:45:00.000-07:00

College students are poor…unless you’re me, then you’re rich, really fucking rich. So rich in deed that when people talk about me, they say things like, “Woooow he is so rich” or “Fuck, he is soooo rich” or “Fucking woooow, he is sooo rich”. I bet you’re wondering what it’s like to be as rich as me. Well let me tell you, besides the frequent trips to Switzerland to visit my numerous bank accounts and have sex with beautiful blondes made entirely chocolate and pussy, it’s pretty awesome. But it’s a life you need to get use to; having three roller coasters in your college apartment isn’t as easy as it sounds. As a student, I too have to deal with problems, but I cope with them in a different, much wealthier way.

Purchasing Textbooks
You: I stayed up all last night searching on-line for the cheapest Economics textbooks. I finally found the international addition for $45.
Me: I stayed up all night searching for the most expensive Economics textbook and finally purchased the Instructors Additions for $1,876 a month. In this addition, one of the author’s teaches me the material while the other two blow me. Learning is so much more interesting when smart people are blowing me.

Dealing with the Stresses of School
You: I can’t believe I got a ‘C’ on my midterm. I’ll never get into law school. I’m going to get a handle of Southern Comfort and drink it ‘til I puke.
Me: Another ‘D’!! Shit, if I don’t pass this class I still get to inherit my father’s Fortune 500 company and become a multi-billionaire. What should I do? Just kidding, pass me that Southern Comfort so I can break it and purchase us some Crown Royal: Special Reserve.

Dating
You: Once we finish our dollar noodles from the ‘Ghetto Food Court’, we can go back to my place and watch The Big Lebowski, if I can get my laser-disc player to work that is. Oh God I need to diarrhea poop.
Me: Once we finish our five-course Chez Panisse meal we can go back to my place and have sex on my bed made entirely out of original Van Gough and Picasso paintings. Hopefully the construction workers have finished putting the extra wing on my bed. If not, we’ll have to settle for making love on my collection of cast-members from the Big Lebowski. I hope Steve Buscemi ran away again. He gets kind of ugly when I bring anything home.

Financial Hardships
You: I only have ten bucks for the rest of the week.
Me: I’m out of toilet paper. I’ll have to get another roll of hundreds tomorrow.

Getting to the City
You: We’ll walk down to BART and take the Fremont line, then transfer to the Daly City/SFO Airport line. We’ll get off on Powell Street and catch a bus to Golden Gate Park to watch the free Reggae concert.
Me: Shit, my flying trolley car is in the shop having a hot-tub/time-machine put in it. I guess I’ll have to take my diamond-studded jet-propulsion pack. I just hope I can find parking on top of the world so I can fire patriot missiles at that free Reggae concert. Fucking hippies.

Negotiating Around Life-Altering Circumstances
You: I can’t believe I got my girlfriend pregnant. I guess I’ll have to take on my third job to help support my new baby.
Me: Rich people don’t get girls pregnant; they get girls abortions. I’m videotaping this one. I just wonder who I should have star, Hillary Duff or Jessica Simpson. Fuck it, why not both, unless of course Elton John is available again.

Planning for Life after College
You: I’m going to take the year off so I can work and save some money before applying to law school.
Me: I’m going to take a year off, during which I’ll ride my trolley car/hot-tub/time-machine to the year 1243 BC so I can eliminate law and thus law schools. Upon returning to the future, I’ll finish all my anarchy school applications after first raping and murdering a few of my neighbors. God I’m rich.

San Fran-noisy

2005-09-26T21:20:00.000-07:00

Dudes and shithead from Liberia,

I just moved into a new place in SF. It's really loud. I had no idea trolley cars sounded like the end of the world. Ya'll should visit. If you're not interested in visiting, ya'll should still come out here so I can torture you with trolley car noises and show you where I keep my pretzels.

PS Did you know the plural of ya'll is all ya'll. No wonder God has been blitzing the south with hurricanes. God Bless all ya'll.

Joke

2005-09-22T15:20:00.000-07:00

Came up with this gem today:

What month shouldn't you trust jewish people?

Jew-lie

HHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHA....I'm so lonely

Helpful SAT Tips

2005-09-14T16:51:00.000-07:00

Test taking can be a bitch. Here are some hints.

1.) When in doubt, whip your cock out
2.) If you have to guess, guess C, unless A and B are available, then guess D, unless your youngest pubescent female relative's period falls on the first quarter of the last third of the month, then guess B.
3.) Get a good nights sleep the night before the test, unless the Back to the Future trilogy is on TBS, then buy two forties and drink every time Michael J. Fox has Parkinson’s.
4.) During the test, pace yourself by only looking at the orators boobs once every 2 minutes
5.) If you come across an unfamiliar vocab word, break in down into its prefixes and suffices. If you don't know those, punch yourself in the face because you are a fucking retard.
6.) Utilitarianism is to optimization as dexterous is to ah fuck it.

Learning Chinese

2005-09-09T10:41:00.000-07:00

I have no use for the Chinese language, especially since Yao Ming won't return my calls or letters, but, several slutty girls in Berkeley have tattoos in Characters just above their asses. Hot? yes. Understandable? No. I'm assuming the tats say "Insert Below", or at least that's what I'm going to tell the cops, but I now have new found motivation to learn Chinese.

Funny Quotes from Yestermorn

2005-09-09T10:38:00.000-07:00

"Yeah, I'm not suppose to suck after I get my wisdom teeth out, but that doesn't mean I can't lick."
-Holly Barth

The Wonderful World of Disney

2005-09-02T16:23:00.000-07:00

Walt Disney has used his beloved movies to teach children everything from how to say their please and thanks yous to how to have a functional conversation with a talking clock. However feminists and social psychologists alike believe Disney's movies unrightfully socialize our children by teaching them gender roles, instructing women to depend on men and men to exert superiority over women. On the other hand, other don't-have-their-heads-up-their-asses people like me believe Disney didn't go far enough. Here are some re-mastered scenes from your favorite Disney Movies.

Peter Pan
Peter Pan: Tink, sprinkle some pixie dust on John and Michael. We're going to Never Neverland to be boys forever!!
Wendy: Peter, can I come. You boys will need a mother.
Peter Pan: Wendy, these boys are just learning to masturbate. The last thing they need is a mother snooping around their personal belongings. Plus, there's this thing called a glass ceiling and only men can break through it.
Wendy: Well can't I fly through it after you guys break it.
Peter Pan: No, Wendy, I'm afraid you need to stay behind and clean up all the glass. Bye Bye Wendy [Flies off].
Wendy: Oh well, Nana, get my broom.
Nana: I'm a dog, quit talking to me you crazy bitch.

Lion King
Mufasa: Young Simba, we must train you to one day take over the pride.
Simba: Cool, Me and my friend Nala can run the while show, no problem.
Mufasa: Well son, you can run the show. Nala must not.
Simba: Why not?
Mufasa: A leader must be brave and strong...
Simba: But Nala's just as brave and strong as me. Just last wee....
Mufasa: Simba listen. When a man is brave and strong, it's called heroism. When a woman is brave and strong, it's called lesbianism. She is useless as a leader.
SImba: If she's so useless, why do we keep her around?
Musfasa: We need someone to scare the other male lions away. Hahahah. You'll think that's funny once you learn who Rosie O’Donnell is.

Pinocchio
Pinocchio: I want to be a real boy so bad. I want to feel what's it's like to have pubic hair. I promise I won't look at dirty pubic hair-themed magazines when I'm a real boy [nose grows].
Fairy Godmother: You must be a good boy and not lie.
Pinocchio: I never lie [nose grows]
Fairy Godmother: Try harder. Just say one thing without lying and I'll make you a real boy.
Pinocchio: Ok, Let me give it a try: I don't think Gepentos's mustache is sexy and I don't want to sit on it [nose grows]. Oh boy, ok, I had a chance to look at one of the other real boys balls, but I looked away [nose grows].
Fairy Godmother: Come on, just one thing.
Pinocchio: Ok, I want to be a real boy because men get paid more than women because they work harder and do a better job. Plus they don't have periods, which are gross.
Fairy Godmother: Good Pinocchio, now I will make you a real boy [waves wand]. Enjoy your new pubes.
Pinocchio: I will [nose grows].

Little Mermaid
Ariel: I want to go where the people are, see them dancing.
Sebastian: You can't go up there.
Ariel: Is it because of my Mermaid tail?
Sebastian: No
Ariel: Is it because I don't understand their culture or language?
Sebastian: No.
Ariel: Is it because I'm a woman?
Sebastian: No, of course not. Oh wait, yes, it's because you are a woman. I'm such a silly talking lobster. Now come on, let's go call Flounder a pussy.

Snow White
Doc: OK, Snow White we are going to work because that's what men do, regardless of their height or personality glitch. Isn't that right Dopy?
Dopy: [Shoots water out his ear]
Doc: That means yes in retard. Now get up and start whistling sleepy. Snow White, you stay here and clean the house. If any evil witches come by, purchase some apples from her but make sure you don't eat any. You're getting sort of fat.
Snow White: What should I do with the Apples Doc?
Doc: Well, for starters, stop asking so many stupid questions about them or I'll have Grumpy do his thing on your face again. Use the apples to make pies.
Snow White: Thanks for being so good to me. Come and give me a kiss good bye.
Doc: Kiss good-bye? I don't think so. Take off your panties.

Aladdin
Jasmine: Ok Genie. It's mine turn to make some wishes.
Genie: [Turns into Don Corleone] Ok, lets get started princess. What's your first wish?
Jasmine: I wish my tiger Raja could talk to me.
Genie: Let that Tiger talk. [Turns into Johnny Carson and hands Raja the microphone]
Raja: I hate her.
Jasmine: Ok, next wish. I wish there was no more world hunger.
Genie: [Turns into Gandhi] Your wish is granted.
Jasmine: Last wish. I wish men and women were treated equally.
Genie: Are you kidding me? I'm a magic genie not a magic mystical genie. Jesus. Stop wasting my time. I've go to go make Aladdin a castle made entirely of virgin pussy now let me know when you decide on your last wish.

The Secret Diary of Margot Frank

2005-08-12T11:42:00.000-07:00

Anne Frank is considered by many to be the Lance Armstrong of hiding from Nazi oppressors. Her famed secret diary made her one of the most famous figures from World War II. But while Anne wrote away, the goofier and more optically-challenged Margot Frank also kept a secret journal. As far as we know, Margot Frank’s secret journal is the most secretist secret journal in the history of secret journals; lucky for you, her journal has recently been uncovered by historians. Her brief but courageous chronicles now allows us to experience the horror that is being trapped in a Secret Annex with an annoying Jew sister that won’t stop writing in her journal. I now bring you Margot Frank’s resolute and triumphant voice as she struggled to survive life with Anne.

Monday, November 22, 1943

My family and I have been in hiding in a place we call “The Secret Annex” for almost one year and six months now, and I have decided that Anne’s not going to be the only Frank keeping a secret journal. I’m getting really tired of Anne’s bullshit and wish she would stop writing and just sit here starring at the maple tree outside our window like the rest of us. She thinks she has interesting things to write about, well I have much more interesting things to write about. For example, yesterday I, well, I…what the hell did I do yesterday? Oh yeah, I starred out the window at the maple tree. Wait, it gets better. I’ve been thinking about the possibilities of that maple tree growing roast beef sandwiches. I’m so hungry and so tired of eating potatoes. I wonder what Anne’s journal tastes like.

Yours,
Margot

Friday, November 26, 1943

Hey journal. You are so lucky I’m writing in you instead of Anne. Anne doesn’t know nothing about writing and she probably always mis-spells words like pantificate, erradicate, and hystorectomine. That’s Anne for you, not a writer that is very good and accurate with her written writings. Uses fragmented sentences too. And some times starts sentences will conjunctions. The worst is probably her run-on sentence structure that keeps going and going and going and going, never ever, ever stopping, not even for one period when a period clearly is in dire need and must be used to end the sentence that has been going on and on and on about nothing forever and ever and ever, making the reading so lost and confused that they don’t even know what she’s talking about anymore. Did you know Anne got her period?

Yours,
Margot

PS Anne’s journal tastes like potatoes

Wednesday, December 22, 1943

I found out today that Anne calls her journal ‘Kitty’. How lame is that? “Kitty’, that’s what uncreative people name their cats if they can’t think of a good name for it. “What should we call this kitty?” “How about Kitty?” What a dumb ass. I’m going to come up with a name for you journal that’s 34 times most perfect than ‘Kitty’ and I’m going to make sure it’s not some prissy, cute-see name. I’m thinking of calling you ‘Cuddle bear’, ‘Sunflower’, ‘Fuck You Anne’s journal’ or ‘Snuggles the Journal’. I’ll decide next entry. Write back soon. Oh, and send food.

Yours,
Margot

Wednesday, January 5, 1944
Dear Fuck You Anne’s Journal,

Anne continues to constantly write in her journal. UUURGH!!! I just don’t get what that little twerp has to write about all day. Oops, pardon my language; I don’t know what that potato-hoarding bitch has to write about all day. I mean, we’re just eight run-away Jews hiding in an annex behind a bookshelf to avoid falling victim to the horrors and mass genocide that Hitler and his German Gestapo followers are wrongfully trying to inflict upon my people just because of our choice of worship. I mean how uninteresting is that? No one will ever read Anne’s journal…except for me. I’m going to sneak in to her room and read it tomorrow. HAHAHAHAHA!!! Can’t laugh anymore, Nazis below.

Yours,
Margot

Thursday, January 6, 1944
Dear Fuck You Anne’s Journal,

My investigatory work was truly a success. I was able to sneak into Anne’s room and read some of her journal while she was off day-dreaming about not having such a stupid journal. And guess what I discovered? Anne’s a big Lesbo!! Hahahaha!! She says, and I quote, “I remember that once when I slept with a girl friend I had a strong desire to kiss her, and that I did so.” She also admitted to wanting to grab her boobies. I bet she wishes Peter were a girl. She’d be all over him, like the Nazis were over my doll collection. She’d be thanking the Nazis for bringing them together, “Oh thanks Nazis for letting me explore my lesbianism. I love women. I’m a dyke.” I bet her whole journal’s a bunch of lesbian adventure stories that contain nothing about all the Jewish hardships of World War II and I guarantee you Anne’s journal won’t be what The New York Times calls “an eloquent testament to the human spirit” like my journal is.

Yours,
Margot

Saturday, January 8, 1944
Dear Fuck You Anne’s Journal,

This will be my last entry. Being tucked away from the world in our secret annex is making me feel uncomfortable. It reminds me of the time I found out that Anne kisses other girls. Hahaha, I still can’t get over that. I hope my father publishes her journal after the war is over and subsequently has it translated into over 30 different languages. In fact, I hope every eight-grade student is required to read it. This might be wishful thinking, but I also hope they adapt her journal into plays, television shows and films starring some shit actress like Millie Perkins so everyone can see how stupid and pointless her lesbian journal is.

Yours,
Margot

The Misaligned Threesome

2005-08-12T10:31:00.000-07:00

"I want you to cum in my butt," I heard Matt Olson yell to a pack of girls as we approached our place of trouble-making last weekend. "Men have semen and women have places to receive it," Matt factually told a pudgy girl wearing a how-the-fuck-do-I-react-to-that facial expression. She looked around for some one to confide in and found Phil, a rowdy and bossy New Yorker with an accent so thick he might as well be speaking Fliptatoo, which is a word I just made up for a made-up gibberish language. Phil was a good guy though. For example, for his last birthday, he went to an Asian Massage parlor in Berkeley and treated himself to a $50 blow job.

"Matt and Dan are my boys. Were going to Vegas next weekend, gonna paint the town pink, fuck some bitches, ride in some limos." Phil had this confused notion that we were all going to Vegas the next weekend with cans of pink paint. He claimed to have a friend would was so tied into the Vegas scene that he could hook us up with pussy, booze, rooms at the Rio, and limos. I didn't believe him. "Come on fuck wads; let me buy you a drink. Tonight's on me," Phil yelled.

We walked to the bar and big-daddyo Phil told us he would hook us up with a drink, "I'll hook you up, this one's on me, but do you think you could hit me up with a few bucks." By "hook me up with a few buck" Phil had apparently meant, "I have no money. Could you buy this round?" Matt Olson paid for it. "Excuse me sir, did you know my mother fucks other men?" Matt asked the bar tender as he handed us our drinks. "Just thought you should know."

We drank and then Phil decided to he wanted to treat us to a shot at another bar, "Let's fucking do this drunk. We're going for shots on me." The bar we were at didn't serve shots so we had to walk down the street. We were lead there by Phil and the New York was starting to come out. "Us three, we can fuck some noses up tonight. Any mother fuckers fuck with us, we'll smack em' back to their mother's womb." Matt and I agreed and hoped he wasn't serious. I've been in one fight. I threw one punch and missed. We passed a group of large black guys. I had trouble picturing any of them fitting back in their mother’s wombs, even after three total pussies white guys through errant punch after errant punch at them. "I'm getting nervous," Matt admitted as he ran his hands through a stranger’s hair. "You have beautiful features," Matt said as to justify the hair thing. "Come on, three shots of Jager. I'll fucking handle this one," Phil reminded me.

"Three shots of Jager and don't make them pussy," Phil told the bar tender. Phil then leaned in towards me. I thought he was going to ask me for money so we could buy another round on him, but instead he said, "See this blonde dude behind you?" I nodded after noticing a scrawny, conservative guy sitting alone at a bar stool. "I want to break his fucking legs." "That's nice," I replied as the bar tender pushed shots our way. "15 bucks," he told Phil. Phil then leaned in and said, "What do you say this one's between me and you? You know what a mean?" The bar tender didn't. "I need 15 dollars man.”Ok listen man, what you say we just do this one between us?" Phil propositioned as he handed a nug of weed to the bar tender. Thank god we were in Berkeley, because the guy agreed with a smile and left us all relieved that Phil had smoothly handled the situation. We took our shots and agreed to leave the bar.

The Jager kicked quicker for Phil than for Matt and I as we headed back to the first bar. We saw a group of Asians partying in an apartment. Phil decided to try and get up into the party. "You want to fuck some rice pussy?" Matt and I agreed that we did just to push Phil to the next step. "Excuse me ping pong, can you buzz us up so we can come up there and show you what it's like to have a real man inside you."

"Fuck you don't talk to her like that," an Asian guy yelled down. "Listen girl, why are you with that smuck. I'll give you three orgasms before he gives you a third of a quarter of one. I'm Italian. You wanna see my Italian slong baby? I'm skinny, but I'm packing bitch. I'm twice the man he is," Phil yelled as I checked his math.

"Buzz us up so we can get the cum out," Matt yelled with urgency. "Yeah bitch, we’ll cum all over your place. It will be quite the party. Let us in," Phil chimed in. They surprisingly turned down the offer to have three perfect strangers cum all over their party and closed the window. Phil tucked his Italian slong back into his pants and we walked away feeling disappointed but drunk. I started to feel like we shouldn't be in public, that no one was going to welcome in three drunk ass holes looking to cum on things and break noses. I don't think we would exactly be considered the best of party guest. We certainly wouldn't be bringing any dip.

We returned to our original bar knowing that we had done it; we had stormed the town and bitched it around so much than it was going back to it's mother's womb, whatever that means.

2005-08-12T10:29:00.000-07:00

Tattoo Expo
San Francisco
Cow Palace
Be there

Hey Mark Eaton, Beat it

2005-08-03T13:22:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a dream that former Utah Jazz, 7'4" center Mark Eaton was blocking all my shots in a casual pick-up game between me and all the greats. I eventually rebounded one shot and slam dunked it over Mark, calling him a nigger as I ran down the court much to Byron Russell’s chagrin, but it still bothered me that Mark would block so many of my shots. Hey Mark, don't you have anything else to do with your free time? Must you pray on the weak, dumpy 5'9" human that is me? And while I'm sleeping? Get the fuck out of my dreams Mark. Buzz off Mark Eaton, Buzz off.

Love,
Dan

PS Remember that time you blocked 13 shots in a game. That was awesome.

ATTENTION: Important Documents Missing

2005-08-01T12:16:00.000-07:00

Matt Olson and I were trying to get fat at In-and-Out burger yesterday when a homeless man approached. Matt said, "I'm so proud of myself. I'm really dedicated to this getting fat thing," after ordering three burgers. The eavesdropping bum began laughing and then started mumbling something about something. His messy goatee hair and toothless mouth provided to big of a distraction for me to properly listen, but I soon caught a few of his jabberings. "Listen I was fucking getting my shoes polished (He was wearing sandals) and I guess I picked the wrong guy, because he stole 75 dollars worth of important documents from me."

"Important documents, what do you mean?" I replied with a skeptical voice.

"You know, important documents, stolen, could you help me out with some change."

I said that I didn't have any as I clinched my pocket full of quarters trying to figure out what exactly 75 dollars worth of documents looked like, wondering all the while when my double cheeseburger was going to be ready. I pictured the lucky thief of this man's hypothetical documents running around the streets laughing all the way knowing that he was a rich man, totting around 75 dollars worth of documents and all. "Biggest heist ever," I pictured him saying as he thumbed through the documents. "Now I finally have something to wipe my ass with." If anyone sees 75 dollars worth of stolen documents, please let me know. There is a poor homeless man who is in a world of confusion and dismay out there, dearly needing his documents to keep him off the streets and into productive society.

Sasquatch Found at Star Wars-Themed Party

2005-07-29T14:29:00.000-07:00

Sasquatch, the mythological creature believed by many to be the missing link between man and Serena Williams, was discovered at a Star Wars costume party last Thursday night. It is still unclear why he attended the party, but many believe Sasquatch was pursing his own search of Mark Hamill.

Sasquatch made a booming entrance into the Star Wars-themed party by kicking down party host Jeremy Benthem’s door with his mud and leave-covered foot. After Sasquatch tried eating Benthem’s cat, nervous party-goers grew suspicious of the 8’3” giant, prompting Benthem, dressed as Yoda, to say, “Friends of mine, the Wookiees are, but leave you must.” Sasquatch responded by yelling “AAHAARRRAAJOOOB”, a noise so frightful it broke Benthem’s TV and woke his parents. Using the cat at bate, party guests were able to detain Sasquatch in Benthem’s basement until local authorities arrived.

After a short stay in prison that left four dead, three injured, and one toilet horribly clogged, authorities began to suspect that the man believed to be wearing a Chewbacca costume wasn’t actually a man but rather was the legendary creature known only as Big Foot, Skunk Ape, Woods Devil, Robin Williams, Windigo, Bushman, or Sasquatch. Sasquatch was then turned over to government officials.

The Department of Weird Shit That No One Actually Thought Was Possible led by David Duchovny have since been running tests on the creature to discover parallels between him and man. So far, they have ample evidence to believe that both Sasquatch and man can have anal-probing performed on them, but they are yet to determine whether or not Sasquatch can communicate with others or receive colostomy bags.

The Blind and the Psychic

2005-07-24T21:09:00.000-07:00

I'm currently living the American dream. That's right, I'm living in a house with a blind man and a woman claiming to have psychic powers. I have learned the following from my experiences:

1.) Blind people do a shit load of laundry
2.) I'm not sure why they do so much laundry, but I am sure that he can tell the distinction between a washer and drier because his clothes smell frightfully delicious.
3.) If you are doing something you don't want people to see you doing, say masturbating for the third time in the last 3 hours, you need not worry about the blind person seeing you, but you do receive some dirty looks from the psychic when you are on your way to the masturbation palace(my room).
4.) If a psychic asks you, "Do you want you to read your mind?" She's not that good of a psychic.
5.) Psychics make a really good cup of coffee, but their claims to have a cat named Moheto are usually false.
6.) Blind people and dogs can smell masturbation.
7.) When blind people and psychics interact, you hear a lot of these type of conversations
Psychic: I sense that you are living in great darkness.
Blind Person: Yeah, well, I'm fucking blind for fuck sakes.
Psychic: I sense a bit of anger.
Blind Person: Yeah, well, I'm fuckig blind for fuck sakes.
Psychic: Yes I can sense that. Do you want to see pictures of my cat Meheto?
Blind Person: Shit women you're crazy. I'm gonna go do some laundry. Thanks for the coffee.
Psychic: Let me know if you see Meheto.
Blind Person: [mumbles under breath] I fucking hate you weirdo.
Psychic: [mumbles under breath] I sense that he really likes me. Meheto! Honey where are you! Meheto!
Blind Person: Oh god that kid's masturbating again.
Psychic: Yeah I sensed that.

I've Never Been Happy

2005-07-12T13:02:00.000-07:00

The Shark Attacks

2005-07-10T18:07:00.000-07:00

and he's uncircumcised

She has herpes

2005-07-10T17:42:00.000-07:00

...and Joey Knows it

Rules of the Beday

2005-07-06T11:42:00.000-07:00

Here's a fun game to play in a beday harboring country. It's called "Try to shit in your friend's Beday". Here are the rules:

Rule 1: Deal with it.
Rule 2: If you get your beday shat in you must shit in someone else's beday.
Rule 3: You cannot shit in the beday of the person that shat in your Beday.
Rule 4: The original beday Shitters cannot have their beday shat in.
Rule 5: You do not talk about Fight Club.
Rule 6: No quoting Fight Club.
Rule 7: Shitting in a bath tub earns you two points.
Rule 8: Points don't matter.
Rule 9: Hahahaha you just got your beday shit in while I was telling you the rules.

Cactus Collection

2005-07-06T11:41:00.000-07:00

I want to purchase a cacti collection for my father with the sole intent of shitting all over it two years later.

A Changed Diaper

2005-07-06T11:22:00.000-07:00

So I'm back from Europe and let me tell you, it was just like in National Lampoon's European Vacation, but without a fat daughter following me around...well at least for the first two weeks. But boy oh boy, experiencing different cultures has really changed me. Here is a short list of the changes I've undergone.

Before/ After

Name: Daniel Marshall/ Elijah Canapé
Height: 5'9"/ 4'7"
Weight: 165-170/ 4,112 Lbs/Square Inch
Race: Caucasian/ Hairy and Sweaty
Species: Human/ Captain of the Sea
Sexual Preference: Females/ Female Seals or rocks with Barnacles
Favorite Movie: Fargo/ Dolly Parton Rides a Roller Coaster*
Favorite Food: Pretzels/ German Made Pretzels
School: UC Berkeley/ University of Lego my Eggo
Best Sport: Basketball/ Scaring away Spaniards who try stealing my identity and $20 to start their new life.
Night Time Activity: Sleeping/ (See Above)
Favorite Former NBA Player with AIDS: Magic Johnson/Larry Johnson (I bet you wish you wore a condom after/ all you big black faggot)
Penis Size: 6.3 Inches/ 351/17 * .0549

*(not yet filmed due engineering complications and casting confusion)

New Style

2005-07-06T11:18:00.000-07:00

My style has changed because of fatigue, alcohol and cigarettes. I'm more scatterbrained, short and choppy, like Hemingway. I've never read Hemingway, but I want to inspire people so much that they try picking up new talents like break dancing. Just kidding. I need a cigarette and a nap.

Europe Here I Come

2005-05-29T17:40:00.000-07:00

I will be in Europe for the next month. Send your blessings and condoms because I'm gonna need em...especially the condoms. Let me know if anyone wants me to bring them back anything that ends with ussy.

Indiana Jones

2005-05-29T17:36:00.000-07:00

Do you think Indiana Jones would be able to do what he if he was fifteen pounds heavier? I bet he would still hate snakes, but only because they taste bad and are hard to BBQ.

Limo Driver

2005-05-23T01:39:00.000-07:00

So I got punched in the face two nights ago. Matt Olsen grabbed a limo drivers balls. He freaked out. I took the blame. I wish my parents weren't in town.

Beyond Belief

2005-05-15T20:14:00.000-07:00

I just heard a girl say, "He thinks you can turn a galaxy into a compassitator, can you believe that?" I must now admit that I truly can not believe that.

Thanks for Coming Copper

2005-05-15T17:02:00.000-07:00

An uninvited cop stormed into my apartment last night. He strolled in turned down the music, sank a 40-foot putt, and slapped high-fives with my roommate. All and all, I'm glad he came.

To Everyone it may concern,

2005-05-15T16:59:00.000-07:00

My name is Lee Patterson and I’m writing an open letter to all the humans (giraffes included) considered to be more beautiful that I. I know it’s rare to address a letter to all 6,372,797,742 billion people on earth (human population subtract Mexico's population), but it is finally time to address some of your recent mockeries. (Farting on crowded escalator isn’t wrecking the havoc I had hoped for, though it is wrecking…like my shit).

So ok, I get the point; I’m fat, ugly, and pathetic. But that doesn’t my feeling are too. Just because your current weight is my birth weight doesn’t predispose you to insult me. But if and when you do, I would at least like your taunts to be creative. I have found your more recent insults to be rather futile attempts to destroy my every-strong psyche. Point in case, Craig Murdock recently told me that I put the “Lee” in “Ugly”. How uncreative is that? You put the “Cr” in “uncreative”, asshole. Next, Curtis Nickels recently said, “Lee, your head looks like your neck shit out a pumpkin.” I shit pieces of ear wax out my nose that mock me more efficiently than that. I don’t know when you last took an anatomy class “Curtis”, but necks can not shit pumpkins, and if they could, which they can’t, it would pain them greatly, so they wouldn’t.

Throughout my life I have been ridiculed for never having a girlfriend. You twat-heads have obviously not checked the 1999 Fighting Barnacles Yearbook, where my GIRLFRIEND and I were voted “Most likely to be too obese to engage in sexual intercourse.” We were a cute couple; we had matching lisps and collectively smelled like a pile of year-old cottage cheese rotting away on a pile of dying trash-men, if you don’t know what that smells like, meet me at the Embarcadero Bart Station escalator tomorrow at 11 and I’ll fart on your inaccurate face.

Additionally, many of you mock the fact that I’ve had “about as much sex as an abandoned baby seal trapped beneath thirteen oceans”, but even the seas will dry one day and I will be stuffing more pussy than a taxidermist. Plus, I’m currently working on designing a condom shaped like Lombard Street to fit my tourist attracting phallus.

Though you all think you are so beautiful with your two ears and your fully functioning left eyes, I assure you, change is on the way. I’m currently writing legislation to change society’s standard for attraction. Once my documentation gets governmental approval, beauty will be determined by the amount of boils one can pop by simply shifting their back muscles. I will be considered the sexiest bitch around and everyone will want to play will my balls, if they can find them hidden beneath all my ball boils.

I must also remind you that beauty fades. You will all be bald and wrinkly and fat and ugly and fat and your bean bag chair will use you instead of the other way around. I can’t wait to be sitting front row (I’ve already reserved two seats) to mock your as you begin your decent into hideousness. All you’ll have left is your memory of being sexy so live it up while you can mother fuckers! Whoa, now that I got that off my chest, I can go back to writing love letters to Cherry Coke.

Sincerely,
Lee Patterson, Ugliest man alive

The stretch

2005-05-14T03:23:00.000-07:00

You know that one really good stretch you have in the morning, the one that gets you up and moving and makes everything feel better. Well it's 3:23 in the morning and I still haven't gotten it.

Philosophical Question

2005-05-08T16:33:00.000-07:00

Do you think we'll ever develop the technology to replace showering?
Follow up question: Do you think we will ever develop the technology to replace peeing in the shower?

Library

2005-05-05T20:48:00.000-07:00

So I'm sitting here hunched over a computer writing a paper about the psychology behind teenage sexual involvement. I feel pathetic, a little perverted, and a lot worthless. I then happen to look over at the girl next to me and notice her scrolling through the hot-pockets web-page. I feel better.

Europe here I come

2005-05-04T13:13:00.000-07:00

So I have just finalized some epic plans to go to Europe for a month (Andy we should chill) and was wondering if any of you worldly bloggers would be able to translate some lines I plan on using during my adventurous travels. French, German, Italian, and Spanish speakers please put your best foot forward and help me out.

Lines to be translated:

Involving hitting on girls
Hello, can I feel your boobs?
Shit, don't slap me.
Why the fuck did you just slap me? That really hurt.
Can I PLEASE feel your boobs?
Do you have a boyfriend and is he capable of slapping me or allowing me to grab your boobs?
Where is the hospital? I think I got punched too much last night.
Goat vomit.

Transportation
Hello, where is the train station?
Do trains from that station go to Amsterdam?
Oh, I'm already in Amsterdam.
How do you say Amsterdam in Amsterdamian?
My brain feels like Amsterdam. I need a wet towel.
Was an eighth of mushrooms too much?

Sight-seeing
Ann Frank, wasn't she a dyke?
Where is Ann Frank's collection of lesbian pornos? Never mind, I see them over in that tree playing Frisbee with my ideal self in dog form.
Was an eighth of mushrooms too much?

Relaxing
Ah, life is sweet.
Sometimes getting away from our society is just what I need.
I feel so magical and excited.
Ok, you can stop blowing me. I already came twice.
I know we're best friends and travel buddies, but I'm still not going to pay you for that blow job you just gave me Joey.

Dealing with hangovers
Dude, let's go to the pub.

Explaining my political Views
I totally disagree with President Bush.
No, I'm very angry at America right now. To prove it I will burn this flag.
I honestly thought that was an American flag. I wouldn't burn an Italian flag if my life depended on it, even though I accidentally just did.
Yes, I am blind.
Yes, I am deaf.
Yes, I am actually retarded.
Yes, you can still punch me in the stomach and ban me from Italy.
Vienna smells like dog shit.

Talking to local officials
Listen, my friend didn't mean to kick over the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
He's a good kid even though his pants are down, and yes he is wearing berret on the tip of his penis.
Yes we were the bunch that accidentally burnt the Italian flag.
Ok, I know we were already kicked out of Italy.
The Leaning Tower of Pisa smells like dog shit.

2005-04-20T02:18:00.000-07:00

Someone told me my personality reminds them of McDonalds. It worries me that someone could be crazy enough to say something this bazaar, but it worries me even more that I'm crazy enough to agree with them.

I hope I never hear this:

2005-04-19T21:42:00.000-07:00

I hope I never hear a feminist utter this line: I'm not a female I'm a memale.

correlation is causation

2005-04-19T11:31:00.000-07:00

My level of drunkenness seem to be positively correlated with the number of homeless bums I hugged during the course of the night, which was 7.

Start to my novel

2005-04-19T11:26:00.000-07:00

So I'm currently writing a novel loosely centered around the rise and fall of the yo-yo trend as it relates to venture capitalism and would like to receive some input regarding my first line:

There I was again: laying face down and crying while he authoritatively, yet efficiently forced his cock into me.

Add to it if necessary.

2005-04-19T11:24:00.000-07:00

Just because you have a whistle doesn't mean I respect you. Now if you had a clipboard with that whistle, that's a different story.

2005-04-18T19:43:00.000-07:00

Dear Prospective Student,

Upon reviewing your application for admittance to the University of California at Berkeley, the undergraduate admissions department has the terrific honor of laughing at you and deeming you a worthless pile of pussy shit. We found your entire application to be a testament to your worthless, unoriginal life.

Your cover letter was a predictable story any underachieving bitch could tell. So what if you went to the Dominican Republic to help build a shanty for Jose Antonio Fabelo and his poverty-stricken family in Santo Domingo. I’m sure your contributions will play a great role in providing a warm place for his children to pursue their cocaine and prostitution addictions.

So you were president of The National Honors Society. Saying you were the president of the National Honors Society is like saying you are the president of the National Resumes Stuffer’s society. I care about NHS like I cared about that soul-less pair of Nikes I had sex with last night. How were you expecting us to react? “OH MY DEAR JESUS CHRIST, SAVIOR OF US SINNERS, WE HAVE FOUND OUR NEW LEADER AND BOY IS QUALIFY. HE WAS PRESIDENT OF THE NATIONAL HONORS SOCIETY, FOR FUCK SAKES.” If I had a quarter for every time I didn’t say that I would be laying on a tropically beach in Aruba bitching at some waitress about the lack of salt on my margarita glass and shortage of pussy around my dick instead of tearing unimpressive douche-cock’s (you) dreams apart.

Congratulations for being named the captain of your basketball team…at a southern Wyoming high-school. I was more impressed that your Podunk, shit-ville of a town had enough non-chromosome-missing students to throw together a team. Here’s my impression of your coach. “Well, the captain position is between you (douche-cock) and his fly-infested pile of sheep shit. I’ll get back to you tomorrow.” Here’s my impression of me, “You should have gone with the sheep shit. I would have pulled down more rebounds and played gut-wrenching defense, though mobility would have been a problem.” Here’s my impression of the sheep shit, “ I had 8 rebounds last night, three more than douche-cock.” Here’s my impression of you, “He does a lot of mean-spirited impressions and calls me douche-cock a lot.” Here’s my impression of me, “FUCK YOU DOUCHE-COCK.”

Which bring me to my next point: Welcome to the University of California at Berkeley. You did it! You’re in! Your application, test scores, and cover letter certainly quality you to attend our friendly university and hope you will seriously consider accepting our warm offer. PSYCHE!!! Man you are a stupid douche-cock.

Sincerely,

Danny Marshall
Director of Admissions and Over-Done Insults
University of California-Berkeley

New Porn Name

2005-04-18T19:39:00.000-07:00

Upon great consideration, I would like to unveil my newest porn name:

Magnum Bloopercock

I will specialize in having girls fart on my dick.

Making it Snappy

2005-04-04T00:46:00.000-07:00

Friend 1: Let's write some snappy dialogue
Friend 2: What do you mean by snappy?
Friend 1: You know, [starts snapping] snappy, quick, fresh, flowing, moving, growing.
Friend 2: You're not a very good snapper
Friend 1: What the fuck. I was probably the best snapper in my whole high school.
Friend 2: Did you go to a high school full of hand-less students, because you're not very good?
Friend 1: Fuck you, you fucking snap expert. Let's hear you snap Mr. Judgmental.
Friend 2: I don't snap. I think it's childish.
Friend 1: As childish as this argument.
Friend 2: Yes, probably more

Accomplishment

2005-04-04T00:42:00.000-07:00

Some might say that I made no great achivements last week, but those same people probably are unaware of the fact that I set the high score on the Elvis Pinball Machine at La Vals. There ain't nothing but a hound-dog mother fuckers.

In Honor of Mitch Hedberg

2005-04-04T00:40:00.000-07:00

This joke is in honor of the great Mitch Hedberg:

Heroin sometimes turns people into deadbeats. In my case it just turned me dead.

Thanks for all the jokes Mitch.

easy said easy pun

2005-04-02T05:31:00.000-08:00

posting is easy when you got an alcohol problem. Don't hate me for what I feel. I saw JR Rider tonight. I blew it. I should of told him about the three point bank shot he made at the buzzer, from half court. Instead, I bought doritos.

Why not

2005-04-02T05:30:00.000-08:00

JMizxnototorinaga, which means shut up in mingiatonia ville, that goes for you to0 brain

Drunk at morning time

2005-04-02T05:18:00.000-08:00

well here the fuck I am. i may not know exacly where i am But I do know that I'm hooked to the internet, God bless for that , if that isn't what needs to be said right know, consider me the worst person to ever know the complexities of true sports manship. Speaking of, life needs to be played fair, if it's not, the world wastes your time and ends up masturbating on your imaginary friend named Joseph Niggertop. racism is natural. If you don't believe in racism you don't believe in god. Oh boy, I wish I didn't say that out loud. If any thing bad happens i can say the pope got control of my mind and keyboard and made me type it. If there is an objection, there is no pope to say he didn't do what I say he did. BOOOOOOOOO to me, to drunk to function . Cats are not my friends, but god bless them anyways.

Pornographic skateboard tricks involving Disney Characters:

2005-03-30T20:50:00.000-08:00

Pumping Goofy

Outside?

2005-03-30T20:47:00.000-08:00

I would go outside if nature contained a folder full of porn like my computer does. Fuck you mother nature, you prude.

Reach for the Gods

2005-03-17T02:38:00.000-08:00

You've got a smile on your face and a cock in your pants. Make both reach for the Gods.

Is any body out there

2005-03-15T00:30:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure that anyone actually checks my blog? I'm so lonely. If you are on this site, send a post so I know who I'm writing to.

2005-03-15T00:29:00.000-08:00

My brain feels like a slug. I should not have thrown that keg in the fire.

Who should I Be?

2005-03-07T21:14:00.000-08:00

I'm so fucking good at coming up with fake names. I have the ability to come up with fresh fake names at the rate of 4 per second. Don't believe me, well check this shit out: Stanley Meritonin, Hallon Hottentotibocker, Jasper Newavo, Drexler Dillionberger. See, that only took one second. I'm way more productive than you when it comes to doing things within the confines of a second, especially when it comes to making up fake names. It probably takes you more time to read four fake names than it takes for me to come up with them (Jet Guyison, Delta Mango, Coatrank Fermiadote, Misha Lionscough). See what I mean slowpoke. While you were sitting around reading those names I was off being productive (I farted on my own hand and smelled it, with is more than you can say Mr. Lacks Creativity-Bergstein). I'm not only good at coming up with fake names; I'm also really good at coming up with fake identities. I feel so bad that you don't have my talents, I feel I should share some pointers, thus teaching you how to create a marvelously fake identity to use next time a fat chick named something fat like Daisy Flabbergabber tries hitting on you at a bar.

Tip 1: When creating the fake name make sure it sounds so ridiculous that they repeat it back to you. There's nothing funnier than hearing a fat chick call you Remmy Cockburns while you stand there straight-faced sipping on a gin and tonic, minus the tonic of course.

Tip 2: When possible, try to add "cock" into your first or last name. The word cock is found by many to be hilarious. It’s also a euphuism for the male reproductive organ.

Tip 3: When creating the fake identity, make sure they think you work for the government and make your job so ambiguous it seems important.

Tip 4: When they ask you how you arrived at the bar, say by parachute. If they don't believe you, point to the obtrusive parachute daggling from your back. If you can't get hold of a parachute, say that the parachute is invisible. If they still don't believe you, punch them as hard as you can in the face.

Tip 5: Engage in a conversation involving you fighting an alligator/grizzly bear hybrid through the streets of London.

Tip 6: Remind your victim that you have met the Queen of England several times. She considers you to be a good friend, such good friends that she gave you her cell phone number while you had a spot of tea in Einsinberg.

Tip 7: Pretend to make a phone call to the Queen of England, but actually call your voicemail box. Speak in a British accent, fake laugh, and hang up after inquiring about her gardens. Once you hang up, note that the Queen thinks your British, caller her a gullible bitch, and make a mental note to call your grandmother back to thank her for the over-sized sweater she send you for your 32nd birthday.

Tip 8: Never show your school id or pinball club membership club hidden away in your Ducktails wallet. She will instantly know you're full of shit and assume you have a severe body odor problem that extends all the way back to pre-natal times.

Tip 9: Start acting sketchy, like you are undercover. When you hear a significant sound, like a glass breaking, say "shit, that's my queue", pull out some floss from your pocket and start talking into as you run out of the bar.

There you go. If you apply these techniques, you will be someone else in no time.

Good Luck,
Otis Odenbach

I want to be a CEO

2005-03-04T15:19:00.000-08:00

As I start my job search, I’ve noticed certain unnecessary equalities arbitrarily built into our legal system. The Civil Rights Act, Americans with Disabilities Act, and US Constitution are way too progressive for my liking. I mean, how can these bleeding heart corporate executives non-biased hire anyone qualified for the position? Hey execs, the world doesn’t need another Mahatma Gandhi. We thus must enforce discrimination and prejudice policies to ensure able-bodied, white, heterosexual males are employer’s top priority. New hiring policies have been tested at one local firm. I think we can already see its effectiveness!

Interview One
CEO: Ok Alvin, so you spent 7 years with Deloitte and Touche before going back to get your MBA from Stanford…oh and it says here you have the HIV-virus.
Alvin: Yes, I’m battling HIV but take precautions to ensure I don’t put others at risk.
CEO: Yes, but the bottom line is our company policy restricts the hiring of anyone with that ailment under the grounds that they might be gay and/or kill us.
Alvin: Yes, but I’m overly qualified for the position.
CEO: Qualified to give us AIDS, fag. Now don’t bleed or cum on anything on your way out.
Alvin: You are a genuine ass-hole.
CEO: Would an ass-hole do this? [Picks up self-gifted "World's Greatest Dad Mug and throws it at Alvin's head]

Interview Two
CEO: Explain some of your work experience please.
Melissa: Well, I worked at Merrill Lynch for 3 years as a financial consultant before working as..
CEO: No, no, no. Explain your work experience [makes hand job motion]
Melissa: Oh, that wasn’t on my resume? Weird. Well, I’ve given 74 hand-jobs, 65 blow jobs, and 4 rim jobs.
CEO: [Face lights up] You certainly seem qualified for the position, but I would like you to work through a case study [unzips pants]. Don’t worry, there’s no math involved.
Melissa: Great, math disgusts me [Crawls under desk]

Interview Three
CEO: Wow, how did you find a parking Space?
Allen: I was driven here by my father.
CEO: Oh, so he feels guilty for producing a bad seed does he?
Allen: I lost my legs in the Iraqi War, if that’s what you’re referring to.
CEO: It looks like you also lost your dignity, your value, what would appear to be your right index finger, and a job opportunity here.
Allen: If I had any legs, I’d kick you in the balls.
CEO: If you had any legs, you’d kick Melissa in the head as she sucked my two balls.
Melissa: [Lifts up head] I thought you said there’d be no math.

Interview Four
CEO: It says here you’re incredibly lazy.
Dancing Bear: Where does it say that?
CEO: Across your Mexican face. [Slaps self high-five]
Dancing Bear: I’m not Mexican. I’m Native American.
CEO: Oh, in that case, I have a joke. How many Native Americans does it take to screw in a light bulb? All three of them, you and your two drunk friends, probably named something stupid like “Fire Belly” and “Fixes Lightbulbs”.
Dancing Bear: I see now that my type is not welcomed in these parts, unless of course you still need that light bulb changed.
CEO: I sure do.
Dancing Bear: [Reaches for phone and calls his two remaining friends, Fire Belly and Fixes Lightbulbs]

Interview Five
CEO: Let’s start by looking over your resume and vagina. In fact, can I grab your boobs?
Cicely: Jesus what kind of girl do you think I am? I will not jeopardize my morals…unless of course I am offered a job first.
CEO: Will you bring your hard work ethic and breasts to work every day?
Cicely: I’ll bring my breasts.
CEO: What about your work eth…oh fuck it. You’re hired. Pull your hair back and let me show you around the office [points beneath desk]. Shit, are you still down there Melissa.

Interview Six
CEO: I’m not sure if you have the facilities to accommodate your disabilities.
Carl: Disabilities?
CEO: Did I say disabilities, because I meant to say your fat fucking ass.
Carl: I know I have a bit of a weight problem, but I’m currently trying to shed some pounds.
CEO: Does your plan include eating doctors that could internally give you liposuction or gastro-bypass surgery?
Carl: Yes, yes it does.
CEO: Well, in that case, I must recommend my friend Martin Stokee. He’s very good. He did my wife’s penis reduction surgery.
Carl: Your wife has a penis?
CEO: I reduced penis yes. At least she has an employed husband, which is more than your wife can say. Now can I get a secretary to lower you out of here?

Gay Test

2005-03-03T19:54:00.000-08:00

Would you still be attracted to that hot chick if she was a man? Y/N
Do you tell people you are going to the pub, but instead of going to the local bar, you secretly go to Banana RePUBlic? Y/N
Do you have one or more naked drawings of Kevin Spacey? Y/N
Are you majoring in psychology? Y/N
Do you find yourself strangely attracted to Jamie Lee Curtis? Y/N

If you answered yes to any of the preceding questions then you are not gay, but rather a connoisseur of fabulous things.

Additional Hobbies

2005-02-21T23:34:00.000-08:00

Chanting "Gorth" while throwing burritos at Sydney Gordon's window, performing two-act puppet plays under waterfalls, humming along to my farts, dissembling and reassembling wheelchairs while 'tards' are still in them, clutter hoarding my bugers around San Francisco, acting as though I have turrets syndrome while being gang-banged by four mischievous yet chill Tongans, saying hole in Juan as I finger bang my Latino friend's ass hole, cock-blocking (I hope to one day be inducted into the Cock-Blocking Hall of Fame located somewhere near the pope's office, which is in New Jersey I think), misspelling disenfrancizement

Revelations From Gordon B. Hinckley

2005-02-21T23:32:00.000-08:00

Hello, my name is Gordon B. Hinckley. If you don’t know who I am my buddy Jesus will light a flaming bag of donkey shit on your porch right as you are about to get a foot massage from an attractive female, for I am the president and CEO of God’s only true religion: Mormonism. At 94 years of age, I am destine to die soon. This imminent death epiphany had made me realize I should have chosen a different path for myself and idiot followers, one certain to include more keg beer and blow jobs for yours truly. I am thus announcing the following personal and religious revelations.

Revelation 1: Legalize Polygamy
Polygamy was one of our founding practices. Brigham Young alone had 55 wives and 56 children, being bad-ass pimp and all. Unfortunately in 1862 the US Government established legislation forbidding polygamy practices. However God just recently told me to tell the Government and it’s silly little “laws” go fuck themselves. They shall cock-block no longer!! I will practice legalized polygamy by reproducing an army of Gordon Bs. My children will be divided into six teams of 12 and used to take over Montana using only God’s blessings and chainsaws, lots of chainsaws.

Revelation 2: New Tithing Policy
Church policy currently requires each member to tithe 10% of their earnings to the church. I find it unreasonable to expect members to pay this amount when they clearly should be paying 15%. I see 15% as being reasonable considering the fact that I brain-wash all you Mo-tards into thinking there’s a heaven. Plus, blow jobs and keg beer ain’t cheap my honkies.

Revelation 3: More Efficient Name Calling
There is a plethora of derogatory euphuisms branded upon LDS members. I don’t appreciate these weak-ass attempts to insult us and thus am banning the use of the words “Moron”, “Jack Mormon”, “Latter-Gay Saints” and “Shitheads” in references to Mormons. Instead, all LDS members will be referred to as Mo-tards.

Revelation 4: Elimination of Abortion and Pre-marital Sex Taboo
The church has always apposed abortion and pre-marital sex. I now see this restriction to be as ridiculous as the thought of allowing black members into our church, and if that’s allowed then so to should abortion and pre-marital sex. To show my resounding support for abortion, pre-marital sex, and blacks in the church, I will get an un-married 19-year-old black slut named Tina pregnant with triplets, only to terminate each life in a marathon abortion session that will feature me eating Kentucky Friend Chicken and smiling. After the incident, blacks will still not be allowed admittance to heaven.

Revelation 5: Temple Reconstruction
Mo-tard temples make any skyline aesthetically pleasing. Even Oakland doesn’t look like such a dump with our glorious edifice towering above all other religious shanties. Though beautiful, the temples are used for rather mundane purposes, such as praying or spiritually connecting to God. I am thus converting all temples into topless waterslide parks. That’ll finally give me a reason to get down on my knees and pray, if you know what I mean (Note: I don’t know what I mean).

Revelation 6: More Rebellious Behavior
I never relished the opportunity to rebel against my parents in the form of a tattoo and will thus tattoo a treasure map that will display where us Mo-tards store our excess amounts of bull-shit used to mold our beliefs. If people do not want to search for the treasure, they can simply open a Book of Mormon. Take that Mom and Dad!!!

Revelation 7: Murder
I want to kill a man…while sky diving…with a midget…and yes the midget will be that man I kill.

Upon my death celebrity LDS Member Steve Young will be appointed the new president of the Mo-tard Church. He will be required to wear nothing more than an undersized 49ers jersey and must throw three touchdowns daily, and yes, hitting a stranger in the balls with a football and/or a forearm counts as a touchdown. Thanks for your time and remember: if it feels like it’s more than two fingers it’s probably not God’s dick.

Cheating

2005-02-21T23:30:00.000-08:00

Would you be pissed if your wife or girlfriend cheated on you? What if it was with a pony named Tina or an elephant named Brandon? NOW THINK ABOUT THAT.

Daily Sexual Education

2005-01-31T20:56:00.000-08:00

The maturation program I attended in 5th grade wasn't that interesting. It focused on the basic for one, and I miss read the sign up sheet, thinking there was an extra "s" and the "r" was actually a "b". Here are some interesting facts about sex you probably haven't heard yet. Enjoy, but do not masturbate to:

An interesting form of cunnilingus was reported on the island of Ponape in the South Pacific. Cunnilingus in some cases consists of the man placing a fish in the woman's vulva and then gradually licking it out prior to coitus. When I first read this, I was sure they meant Volvo. Oh well, I have tomorrow's dinner all planned out. Fuck you Dominos

African Azande women masturbates with a phallus made of a wooden root; if her husband catches her masturbating, he may beat her severely, mainly because he was planning on eating the wooden root she was rubbing all over muffer. Man they don't have any food in Africa and it sounds like they don't have to many dildos either.

More educated people are more likely to have masturbated within the last year. There appears to be a direct positive correlation between education and masturbation frequency. I knew there was a reason behind Stephen Hawkins’s favorite, non-space related hobby.

China's severe overpopulation problem has led to a policy of permitting only one child per family, and the survival of Chinese is thought to rest on everyone complying with this policy. Under these circumstances, abortion is considered ethical and, in fact, desirable in order to avoid mass starvation and to ensure the survival of the Chinese people.
"What the fuck, get that close hanger our of there."
"What, I'm just being ethical."

Monkeys have one key advantage over humans: they can suck their own dicks. That sure makes our opposable thumbs look useless doesn't it?

The female porcupine holds one end of a stick in her paws and walks around while straddling the stick: as the stick bumps against the ground, it vibrates against her genitals, producing a sort of natural vibrator. I think we should start training females in our society to perform this masturbatory technique, mainly because I'm getting really bored with female masturbation scenes in porn, and it would be hilarious to watch.

Male squirrel monkeys sometimes use an exhibitionist display of their erect penis as part of an aggressive display against another male. This means that Mike is half Spider Monkey and about to kick my ass 92% of the time.

In some societies, partners inflict pain upon each other. For example, the Apinaye woman of South America may bite off bits of her partner's eyebrows, noisily spitting them aside. If a girl tried this with you, she is either from South America or you just donkey punched the shit out of her.

When the Thonga of Africa first saw Europeans kissing, they laughed and said, "Look at them; they eat each other's saliva and dirt." Yeah, well at least we don't live in Africa you fucking niggers.

90% of men think their penis is smaller than average. 100% of me knows for sure.

Well, that was our lesson in sex for today. If you have any questions or concerns, let me know.

Traffic Court

2005-01-26T13:44:00.000-08:00

If you want to see what African American and Latino people look like and haven't already I would suggest you go sit in a Traffic Court for a few minuets. You don't necessarily have to violate the law to go down there, but you will feel much more in place if you do. I for one did not violate anything (other than myself) before shipping off to traffic court. Once there, I realized that I was surrounded by some of the worse criminals in the history of bad criminals. Everyone staggered around, their walks still not 100% from the perennial governmental ass-fucking they are subjected to endure on a daily basis. "If only I had stop at that stop sign I would not have to be so deeply engaged in the bureaucratic process," most people thought in broken English. "If only I knew what the stop sign meant," muttered others.

In case you're wondering, I went to Traffic Court with my girl-friend as a symbol of support and comfort for a ticket she had received while picking me up from the Oakland Airport. However, I felt that my support did nothing more than make the entire court room uncomfortable. "What the fuck is that cracker doing in our Oakland court room?" questioned some. "How the fuck did a white person get caught for anything in this country," muttered my ancestors. Yes, yes, yes, being a white, well-educated, well-dressed male in an Oakland courtroom, I was out of place to the nth power. I think everyone was expecting me to be a lawyer or something, but I wasn't. I was just an innocent by-stander watching the law fuck people for petty crimes and misdemeanors, and boy was it an exciting show.

My favorite case occurred when a Latino man tried to fight his ticket. He was sited for running a red light. After considering his evidence, the judge typed some things into his computer, turned the computer towards the courtroom and showed the pleading man run the light. "Fuck you Spic," said the judge as he issued a $350 fine. $350!!! What the fuck. This man reeked of poorness and yet the government expected him to pay $350, fuck yeah!!! Our government should keep stealing from the poor to perpetuate their poorness and keep all judges safe from having to argue against us white weasels who can use deceptive tools like words and hammers free ourselves from just about any legal situation so long as it's not rape or murder or both.

After leaving the courtroom I felt a sigh of relief, mainly because I knew most of Oakland's black and Latino population would be off the street and in defensive driving school.

2005-01-26T13:43:00.000-08:00

It seems to me that you live your life like a candle up my ass.

Sigmund Freud was Full of Shit

2005-01-09T23:17:00.000-08:00

Sigmund Freud is regarded as one of the most influential psychologists of all time, but if a degree in psychology has taught me anything it’s that Freud was more full of shit than my small collection of edible port-a-potties. After reading some of these previously unpublished transcripts I think you would agree that Freud puts the “id” in ridiculous. Here are some of his interactions with his patients using his infamous psychoanalytic techniques.

Patient 1
Freud: So what’s been bothering you?
Patient: Well, I’ve just been really depressed as of late.
Freud: Hum, sounds like penis envy.
Patient: What….no. I don’t have penis envy. Penises are gross and they smell like a pigeon’s ass hole. Plus, I’m a man.
Freud: The more I hear the more I’m convinced. You have penis envy.
Patient: No, I just want some help, someone to talk to about my high level of anxiety.
Freud: Really, well then, I think I miss-evaluated the situation.
Patient: What’s my problem then?
Freud: Severe penis envy.

Patient 2:
Freud: So tell me about your dreams.
Patient: Well, I’ve had this reoccurring dream where upon I am tied down to a boat heading straight for a 100 foot waterfall. I struggle, but can not overcome the ropes that bind me to the boat. I eventually give in, and, as I fall to my death, I wake up.
Freud: Well this seems simple enough. The boat represents the naturalistic flow of time and the waterfall represents your father.
Patient: …and so what do the ropes mean?
Freud: The ropes, well they represent your father.
Patient: …and the boat. Does that represent my father as well?
Freud: [nods approvingly]
Patient: Wow, you’re right. I never thought of my father as a waterfall, rope, and boat, but that totally makes sense. You’re a genius.
Freud: [nods approvingly and lowers face into a pile of cocaine]

Patient 3
Patient: Lately, I have been feeling a tension between my son and I. Why would I be feeling this way?
Freud: [Reaches into hat and pulls out a piece of paper, clears throat and reads] Oedipus complex.
Patient: That’s ridiculous. My son doesn’t want to have sex with my wife.
Freud: [Reaches into hat and pulls out piece of paper] Denial.
Patient: So I have been unconsciously denying this phenomenon?
Freud: [Reaches into hat and pulls out a piece of paper] Libido.
Patient: Hey are you just pulling disorders out of your hat or something?
Freud: [Reaches into hat and pulls out piece of paper, clears throat and reads] Superego.

Patient 4
Patient: I have found myself surprising attracted to my cat.
Freud: [cocks head back and starts laughing]
…..59 minutes later…..
Patient: Are you ok sir?
Freud: [un-cocks head, dries his tears, and stops laughing] times up.

Patient 5
Patient: I’m constantly restraining myself from my true passion in life: eating cotton candy.
Freud: Well cotton candy is delicious.
Patient: Aren’t you supposed to say something about my id desiring the cotton candy and my superego restraining my id from acting in an unchecked, impulsive way?
Freud: Id? Superego? Oh my god [chuckles] I can’t believe that worked. That whole theory was just a simple April Fool’s prank I played on society. Oh man that’s funny. Now, what were you saying about cotton candy?

Patient 6
Patient: It’s seems that I have developed a strange fear of being mugged in a dark alley.
Freud: How unusual.
Patient: Every time I approach any dark areas, anxiety overcomes me. It’s gotten so bad that I can’t even partake in my favorite hobby.
Freud: What is your favorite hobby?
Patient: Having sex with prostitutes in dark alleys.
Freud: [readjusts in chair] Where can these alleys be found?
Patient: My favorite one is between Montgomery and Harrison. Hey where are you going?
Freud: Oh, I’ve got an appointment at four with the president of…of…of…[slowly backs out of the room while checking his wallet]
Patient: Wait, how can I overcome my fear of dark alleys?
Freud: Well, you could loan me twenty bucks.

Patient 7
Freud: Ok let’s do some free association. I’ll say a word and you tell me what instantly comes to mind. Ok, let’s start with the word turtle.
Patient: Dove
Freud: Flight
Patient: Wings
Freud: Grand Theft Auto: San Andeas
Patient: Hasn’t bee invented yet
Freud: Bricks
Patient: My father molested me as a child.
Freud: Wow, major break through. You have penis envy.

Plastic Surgery for Pets

2005-01-09T22:19:00.000-08:00

Are you tired of your pets looking and acting like animals? Are your pets constantly begging you to get them botox, face-lifts, collagen lips, or more shapely breasts? Are you tired of being asked rhetorical questions about your ugly pets? If you answered yes, no, or maybe to any of these questions then you are in serious need of my services. Hi, I’m Dr. Rodrigo Alexander, pet plastic surgeon and connoisseur of delicious pussy, and I’m here to change your life by changing your pets. Through my services, your pets will obtain better looking faces, bodies, and will at last have a more positive self-image, guaranteed. If they don’t, I will give you a small portion of your money back, or flee to Mexico, guaranteed. If you don’t believe me, just check out some of my work:

Waggles the Golden Retriever (Picture: Before: golden retriever puppy, smile on his face, looking as happy as can be. After: same puppy looking miserable and abused)
What’s more adorable than a golden retriever puppy? I don’t know, maybe a golden retriever puppy with a set of new tits! That’s right, give yourself and your puppy the ultimate gift that will leave the both of you wagging your tails (if you don’t have a tail, I can hook you up). Sizes range from small to ‘Oh my god that dog’s tits are so big he can’t even walk’ (very popular). Trust me, after this surgery, your neighbors will gladly let your puppy shit all over their lawns.

Pluckers the Goldfish (Picture: Before: Normal Goldfish. After: hamster with goldfish tail)
Oops, your child wanted a hamster not a bitchy goldfish. Well worry you not you negligent parent you. The technology has finally arrived to change that little bitchy goldfish into a fully functional hamster. After the surgery, your hamster will be like any other: obnoxious, annoying, and full of urine ready to be pissed onto your hand at any time.

Stoney the Rock (Picture: Before: normal, extremely boring rock. After: picture of a polished rock.)
Pet rocks are maybe the most animated and active pets in the history of animated activity. But are you looking to give your pet rock the extra edge that will set it apart from your friend’s pet rock? Probably. Let me polish that baby up, oh yeah.

Benjamin the Grizzly Bear (Picture: Before: Grizzly bear with a severed child’s head in each paw. After: only one severed child’s head in his paw or a bear drinking a cup of tea)
One of the major disadvantages of having a grizzly bear for a pet is their tendency to eat your children. Why are they doing this? It’s simply, grizzly bears have enormous stomachs and there is nothing more deliciously filling that one of your children, especially after a family BBQ. So I’ve got four words and fifteen syllables for you: gastric-bypass surgery! (note: exclamation point and success not included.)

Pug the Pug (Picture: Before: Normal pug, with swished up face. After: Joan Rivers with pug body).
Let’s face it, the mug of a pug resembles that of an 80-year-old lady on meth. Well, now it’s time to get those wrinkles off that face. (Note: superficial outlook on life not included.)

Butterball the Cat (Picture: Before: normal looking cat. After: Ungodly skinny cat or maybe even a rat)
Ah, Liposuction, one of the three wonders of the world. Don’t believe me, well then why don’t you go visit the Great Pyramid of Giza fatty. It’s time to finally apply our liposuction technology to something useful, like say, your lazy ass, fat ass cat’s ass. I think we would all agree that old Butterball could benefit from dropping a few lbs.

2004-12-26T16:28:00.000-08:00

I still have not entirely gotten over the fact that you lost your virginity to a tree.

Not so Cute Anymore

2004-12-17T01:45:00.000-08:00

Do you all remember that adorably cute kid from Jerry Maguire? Yes, the one with the adorably cute glasses and adorably cute knowledge of bees. I sure the fuck remember him, mainly because I have a life-size cardboard cutout of him sitting gingerly at the base of my bed. But anyway, I was just thinking that that adorably cute kid is probably an ugly ass 18 years-old now. In fact, I bet he's popping an 8-pound zit on his ass right now. "Did you know that the average zit head on my ass weighs 8 pounds?" "Oh, that's so fucking cute, now could you please stop trying to get me to watch clips of Jerry Maguire with you?" I'm not actually sure where that little fella has disappeared to, but here are I few places I think he might be right now:

1.) Face down in a gutter trying to remember if it was the crack or the heroin that made his pants and sense of smell disappear.
2.) Searching airports all over the world in hopes of finding Tom Cruise look-a-likes to hug and ask for change.
3.) Blankly wandering a Tijuana Strip club, muttering, "Where's the ATM" in broken Spanish.
4.) Pitching ideas for "Jerry Maguire 2: That's kid is still sooooo cute" to movie execs. at Universal.

But these are only loose theories that have not been proven or even tested. Where do you think that little fuck might be?

Undesirable Nicknames for Your Penis

2004-12-17T01:41:00.000-08:00

George Costanza
Grumpy
The Sawed-off Shot-Gun
Tesha
Lombard Street
Doppy
The Weeping Clown
Mr. Over-Sized Clitoris Pants
Shark Bait
Stick of Pain
(laughter)
The Columbia Disaster

Add more if you if have a penis or a sense of humor...or a penis with a sense of humor...or a pussy with a sense of humor about penises

Fuck You Henry, part 1 of 3,945

2004-12-14T01:43:00.000-08:00

Fuck you Henry, you lonely Japanese piece of minority shit. You are worthless and you know it, that's why you search for girls on the interent, you fucking pathetic gook.

Don’t Get me Started

2004-12-13T18:14:00.000-08:00

Friend 1: What’s up dude, can I bum a smoke?
Friend 2: Your don’t smoke.
F1: I do when I’m drunk.
F2: Are you drunk right now?
F1: I am in deed
F2: …at ten o’clock in the morning?
F1: It’s not ten O’clock in New York right now.
F2: Well it’s not 10 in Hawaii right now so I don’t really see your point.
F1: The point is that I really want a cigarette right now.
F2: No dude, fuck off.
F1: Why?
F2: Well, I really don’t want to deal with the responsibility of getting you started on an addictive drug.
F1: Dude, you introduced me to cocaine.
F2: Well cocaine is different.
F1: How is you getting me hooked on cocaine different from you getting me hooked on cigarettes? If any thing it’s a positive step in our relationship.
F2: Well, to address your question, cocaine is a stimulant where as nicotine is a depressant.
F1: What are you talking about? That not true. Just give me a fucking cigarette.
F2: Can’t do that, this is my last one.
F1: Good, cause I’m not even drunk anymore.

Shooters!!!

2004-12-04T20:53:00.000-08:00

Everytime I use a public bathroom it seems like I come out limping.

Meditation Final

2004-12-04T01:13:00.000-08:00

I'm currently taking a meditation class here at Berkeley. They have just assigned us a final where upon we are supposed to do anything creative that relates to the class and our own life. It’s suppose to reflect the idea that we have been enlightened or brought to be a better person during the course of the semester. I thought the class was a small dose of bullshit so I thought I would serve up my own dose. Here's what I came up with. Trust me, it's an A. I just hope they don’t take me too seriously.

Paint your Nails Green

Am I the image in the mirror or is the image in the mirror me? Did I just smile? Was that an accident forced out by fate? I feel happy when I'm with the redwoods. I wish I was always with the redwoods but I don't think I have enough soil for them to be with me. Mind breathing. Heart Pumping. Soul Chasing. Reality Sitting. Ambition Slow Dancing. Can you do more? Is you're system full of effectiveness? I'm full of so much love but nature portrays me as a hater for living by her creed. Why do you lie to me when I live by your truths? Candy apples don't taste good to me, but why do I crave them so? I eat money, but I'm never full. Why is happiness so green when my heart feels it's transparent? I try to conjure up a blue sky for one hour, but I always fail. I can think it but I can't feel it. How can silence be so loud? I need to get my mind on a leash.

I am comfortable making myself uncomfortable. No ointments can cure my cracks. I'm terrified but scary to all, even the end. If am everything I know, how come I don't feel like anything? Why can’t I hear the voiceless trees when they scream so loud? I am made to climb but the tension makes me fall. How can both creations be contradictory but right? Words of love are too small to cover words of hate, not enough, but greater than. Birth is seeing at 100%, but I need contact lens. Where was I when you needed you? I was weeping in the tears of the past. Tissues won't damn this river. There is a perfect cake for me, but I'm wishing for too long to taste anything but wax. I am the grieving alligator and I want another candy apple. I'm small enough to be a speck of dust on a grain of sand, but I'm strong enough to be a thorn in your side. There is no middle because it all goes forever. I am nothing but I created the whole world. Paint your nails green and face happy because the world needs its creator.

Rape, a point of confusion/confession/clarification.

2004-12-03T10:16:00.000-08:00

I must confess that I'm not totally clear about what is and is not considered to be rape any more. I don't know if I'm getting rusty with my old rape rule book or what, but I am requesting a point of clarification. I was wondering if it is still considered to be rape if your mate says something along the lines of, "It's ok if you rape me." To me this seems to be consensual rape, which should be considered under law to simply be consensual sex. Anyway, I'm just chillin in San Quentin penitentiary and will be for a bit. If you get a chance, could you please explain to me what it feels like to inhale free air? Also, could you please pin someone down and rape them and explain to me what it feels like, because I have done nothing wrong but perform consensual rape on a 10 year-old boy.

Short Convo.

2004-12-01T16:30:00.000-08:00

Gosh, I never know what to say:

Female: Hey, how's it going today.
Me: aaaa, good.
Female: I really like that sweater on you.
Me: uuuum-aaaaaah
Female: What, cat's got your tongue.
Me: [shouting] OH NO, I'M ALERGIC TO CATS!!!!!! [Runs out of room screaming and crying]

Life

2004-11-28T04:05:00.000-08:00

What the fuck should I do with my life? Please submit answers in haiku format. If you have any questions about the haiku format, please view: http://www.smalltime.com/haiku/haiku_main.html

If you have any questions or inquiries about camel toes, please view: www.cameltoe.org.

Thanks for stopping by!!!

Junky Pick-Up Lines

2004-11-26T13:26:00.000-08:00

-You are like heroin in that I need you in my arms.
-You are like cocaine in that I would totally do you in a crowded night club bathroom.
-Is that a banana in your pocket or am I tripping on some gloriously great acid?
-Can I, well, hahaha, awkward, can I do a line of coke off your tits?
-Hey baby, this little prick will really fuck you up...the butt.
-Your crack makes me want to suck your pipe.
-Do you want to get high, talk about how happy we are and then break dishes over each others heads while balancing our check books on our noses, metaphorically speaking of course, until one of us has to discretely drop the other off in front of the emergency room entrance?
-I thought nothing would make me feel better than heroin, and then I met you while on heroin.

Erectile Dysfunction?

2004-11-25T15:57:00.000-08:00

I have decided that, similar to God, I don't believe in erectile dysfunction. It really does make sense, guys not being able to have sex and all. Males are built by evolution to be reproductive machines. When they see something worthy of reproducing with, by god, they are going to really want to reproduce with that thing, whether it be a human or a goat. Erectile Dysfunction is thus not the fault of the man, but rather a result of an un-simulating environment. Think about it. Let's say you're 65 years old. You have been married to the same woman for 40 some-odd years. Her vagina resembles a musty haunted meat-filled house, full of odors and ghosts that no one, not even the blind or smell deprived would dare enter and yet you have had to deal with it for 40 some odd years. Odds are you're not going to be that desiring of sex. That fact is that once women live past a certain age, they are meant to no longer be attracted to men because those women can not reproduce. These men want to have sex. Trust me. But they no longer want to have sex with you. I guarantee if you wave some hot 18 year-old pussy in front of them that their boners would shoot threw the moon. So stop using the phrase erectile dysfunction women. For it is not the dysfunction of the male, it just that you are no longer attractive. Having said that, I'm sorry I could get it up last night. It was me not you.

Societal Vomit: Debunking Fraternal Stereotypes

2004-11-22T01:04:00.000-08:00

There’s one societal travesty has really bothered me over the last four months, and no I’m not talking about that incessant rash on my ass that is slowly taking over my whole body and couch. I’m talking about the disrespect shown towards fraternity men. Fraternity men are painted as being drunken buffoons that do nothing more than smash beer cans on their asses while simultaneously mocking pedestrians. However, these stereotypes are erroneous. To knock down some of the preposterous stereotypes surrounding fraternity men, I decided to sit down with stereotypical fraternity man Timmy Osterberg:

DM: I would start this interview by shaking your hand, but I don’t know the brotherhood shake. Plus, you have three forties in each hand.
TO: Yeah, motherfucker’s gotta get his buzz on (chugs forty, breaks the bottle over face).
DM: Ok, let’s get started here. Oh Jesus….umm…you got some glass in your eye.
TO: At least it’s not an ass (starts making farting noise as blood runs down his face).
DM: Well, how do you feel about the unfair stereotypes regarding alcohol consumption?
TO: (farting noise finally stops) It’s bullshit. I personally only get drunk six times a week and of those six times, I only get wasted four of those times (finishes another forty).
DM: What do you do with that extra day during the week?
TO: Here, let me show you a magic trick. Close your eyes.
DM: Ok ready…(long pause)…Ah, fuck dude, please get your penis off my shoulder.
TO: Tada!!! It worked. I put my penis on your shoulder while simultaneous chugging a forty. I’ve been working on that for three years.
DM: Damn it, back to the interview. If you had a time machine, how would it be used?
TO: Good question (tries to give me a high-five, one forty falls from his arms). I would probably go back in time to the one time that my friend BZ puked in the time machine.
DM: BZ? It seems fraternity members are keen on nicknames. Is this true?
TO: Shit, you ask a lot of questions about nicknames. That’s three in a row. We should call you Nicky, or Nicotine.
Nicotine: Is it true that your organization gives back to the community on a regular basis?
TO: (Burps) Yeah, we let some of the fat chicks come to a few of our events, as long as there’s no food or dance floors.
Nicotine: Few more questions. Do you have any philosophical lines or historical quotes you would like to share?
TO: Sure, but there’s a dance that goes with this quote (stands up). Ready? Ok, ‘Bounce Titties Bounce. Boom. Boom. Bounce Titties Bounce’ or some shit.
Nicotine: Nice, I can’t believe you’ve read Nietzsche. Is ‘or some shit’ part of the quote? (No answer) So, what’s your favorite movie?
TO: Amadeus. Did I pronounce that correctly?
Nicotine: No actually. I believe it’s pronounced Old School.
TO: Oh, that’s right.
Nicotine: Well, man that’s all the time we have, plus it looks like you just pissed yourself while finishing your last forties.
TO: I’m not forty, ass hole. I’m blackout man, king of your sister’s pussy. (walks out of the room chanting FRAT with his arms in the air)

Well, there you have it. None of the social stereotypes imposed on Fraternity men hold true. So, respect the Fraternal world and they will show respect towards you, allowing all Americans to openly get drunk on a Tuesday night, thus ending the war in Iraq.

Spare a Better Future? Possible Solutions to the Homeless Problem

2004-11-22T01:03:00.000-08:00

While strolling down Telegraph Avenue, Berkeley students are often troubled by the provocative philosophical question, "Spare any change?" to which we, with our hands buried deep within our pockets, are forced to answer, "Sorry, I don't have any pockets." We as students should be able to walk the streets of our university without having to lie about our pockets. Thus, we must eliminate the homeless problem. I have brainstormed a few practical solutions to be submitted to The City Council.

Solution 1: Sip and Clip: An Investment in the Future
Description: I’ve got four words for you: vasectomy!!! Well, I guess that’s actually just one, but this solution will work so well that it will feel like four. First, we will get all the homeless men together at a local bar, perhaps, lets say…People’s Park. Alcoholic beverages mixed with even stronger alcoholic beverages, mixed with GHB will be dispensed. Doctors will then be lowered from helicopters to perform emergency vasectomies on all the passed-out bums and the one frat guy who was just looking to get really fucked up, and SAZAAM, Berkeley’s homeless will be as fertile as a hospital bed (not very fertile in most states).
Resulting interaction-Twenty-one years later:
Aged Bum: Spare any change man? I have three kids to feed. They’re living in a basement in Albany with my pregnant husband.
Student: Ha, yeah right. They stopped making basements in 2011. (To self) I can’t believe women get men pregnant now. Fuck President Hillary Clinton’s eight years in office, fuck them hard.

Solution 2: Pirate’s Takeover of Telegraph Ave.
Description: For those of you who are emotionally attached to certain bums, I suggest that instead of removing them, we simply replace them…with the high-tech animatronics bums featured in he classic Disneyland ride Pirates of the Caribbean. These bums would still produce random lines like, "I milked my cookies in the calendar," but students could rest easy knowing that the robots are only for their entertainment, and it wouldn't cost them a dime, unless they decide to feed Alonzo, the dime-eating robot-pirate bum.
Resulting interaction:
Student: Wow, look at all these non-threatening bums.
Robot-Pirate Bum #1: Spare any change ye scabrous dogs? Man the braces! Let down my haul to run free so I can drink up me earties, A Yo Ho Yo Ho, a pirate’s life for me.
Confused Student: I think I want to have sex with Johnny Depp.
Robot-Pirate Bum #2: Me too.

As you can see, these solutions would obviously help in solving the homeless problem. I just hope the Berkeley legislators are willing to pass one of these solutions, fucking liberals. For those leftwing liberals who may object to any of these ideas, I remind you of this classic liberal joke:
Q: How many liberals does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Three, one to screw in the light bulb and two to SUCK MY DICK!!!

Motivating words from A Pervert

2004-11-19T13:56:00.001-08:00

-You don't have to be a genius to realize Lindsey Lohan has great tits.
-Have you ever thought of calling a vagina a "Lady Hole"? Probably not. Innovation, creative, pussy.
-We must continuously challenge ourselves to become the best self possible. That's why I get a Victoria's Secret's catalog every month.
-What doesn't kill us makes us stronger and we can use that strength to hold women down against their wills and force our penises into them.
-How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving, and tolerant of the weak and the strong. Because someday in your life, you will have tried to get all of these naked in front of a camera.
-To be a philosopher is not merely to have subtle thoughts, not even to found a school to grope women; a life of simplicity, independence, magnanimity, and thrust.

Cool Dads Suck

2004-11-19T05:19:00.000-08:00

Do you remember those dip shits in middle school or high school who would brag about how "cool" their dad was? Probably not. You know why? Enlighten me Dan. Ok. It's probably because those kids are not worth remembering. You know why? Enlighten me Dan. Ok. Because they are deadbeats. Having a cool dad does not make you into a well-adapted citizen ready or capable for such wild things as learning, speaking coherently, and butt sex will hot women. Trust me, I know from experience...about the wild butt sex part at least. The point is, no matter how cool your father is, you can never prepare yourself for wild butt sex...no one can...not even Bill Cosby. Is he still alive? I know his son isn't. See what I mean about the cool dad thing. Bill Cosby. Cool Dad. Dead son. Which proves my point that cool dad's only get things killed, things like their son's future.
Take this example as an example to exemplify my example. I had a buddy. I won't name his name, even though probably is incapable of ever finding this site, and if he did, he wouldn't be able to read it. Don't believe me? Well, let me tell you this. Junior year of high school the kid asked me how to write the letter "J". THE LETTER "J". Boy did I feel smart after producing a beautifully curved J and even showing him the art that is dotting a lower cased “j”. I knew my alphabet and I even knew how to write some of the letters down...on paper. Genius. Me. Wow. I felt bad for him, mainly because he would never be able to write words like "jam" "jelly" or "die Jew". "Die ew, what the fuck is this suppose to mean," said the Jew who my friend was trying persecute. My friend's inabilities were not his fault, but rather the fault of his jerk father, who was deemed by all to be the “cool dad”.
I wanted to see what all the hubbub was about, so some friends and I went over to "Mr. Cool Dad's" secret hang out…AKA his recliner in front of a TV that had more features than he did IQ points...about 7. We were watching an NBA basketball game. He was drunk, which in high school translated into "cooooool". I remember him sitting there, a tired look as his face, two beers in each hand, a bag of chips resting comfortably on his useless cock. "You know why these Niggers wear long shorts right? Huge dicks," he said as he raised three beers to his mouth. "Pussies," he yelled in response to the end of the third quarter. This was him? This was the cool dad? Apparently, because after each of his off beat, Neanderthal yells, out bursts of laughter sprang out of my friend’s mouths as they looked over to make sure I was enjoying the show as much as they were. I wasn't enjoying the show. I fact, I was scared that the ass hole would stand up and jokingly throw a half full beer at my cranium. "That would hurt, but he surely wouldn’t waste the beer, would he?" I thought to myself as "cool dad" welcomed the fourth quarter by farting. "That was fucking funny," I thought to my self as the room filled with the smell of a mediocre fart.
I left that day thankful that people didn't consider my father cool for the same reasons they did my friends. I was more thankful that I would get a shot of giving back to the world, contributing more than a load of semen and racism to society. My friend has gone on to closely exemplify his father: farting, drinking beers, and being a deadbeat. If only he had the chance to be raised by some one else, I don't know, maybe Ozzy Osborne. He seems to be doing a great job of producing winners.

The Senses

2004-11-18T01:50:00.000-08:00

I like eating food, knowledge and pussy: the only problem is that I have a bad neck and a sense of smell.

Things I Realized Today

2004-11-18T01:47:00.000-08:00

I really need to stop eating 7-day-old pussy.
I carry my backpack like Jesus did his cross, only I don't deserve it.
You don't need to be rich to steal couches, just determined and strong.
There is an inner voice in me and that inner voice is telling me to be more like Jon Monstrola.
If all elephants were smart enough to unify as one race, I still wouldn't be getting any pussy.