Archive for September, 2011

Maybe I’m in the minority. If so, then I demand equal rights. Then I demand more rights than the average person. That’s what a minority group does. They want to be equal, then they want more rights. As long as every human being has the same rights as the next, I am fine with it. Your agenda means nothing to me. Especially if you wear a dress.

I don’t like dresses. I like dressings. Everybody does. A salad without dressing sucks. One time I tried a salad with hot sauce on it. I rarely throw food away, but that food I did. Not my greatest idea. No matter what type of dress it is that a woman wears, I am not a fan.

Okay, sometimes there are dresses on certain girls and at certain times that I can admit to myself “Hey, she looks decent in that.” Usually these are slut dresses and she’s drunk and flirting with me already. She thinks I look like some celebrity that I don’t look anything like. I’ve been told by 3 people claiming that I look like Heath Ledger. They were ALL drunk. That’s why there are laws against drinking and driving. You may pull up to a stop sign, spot me, get so excited that Heath Ledger is back from the dead, and crash. Only in cases where this happens am I attracted to a girl in a dress, sometimes.

Dresses to me are weird looking. They remind me of superheroes. It’s oversized fabric, not skin-tight, usually has a dumb design on it, shows off unsexy body parts like shoulders and knees, and most of all, they’re seen as fancy. I don’t like fancy things. I am simple. I like Lobster from Maine and my Rolls Royce white. I’m easy to please is what I’m trying to say. A woman putting on a dress usually means that she has high expectations of where she’s going. Do you know how nervous that makes me? I had only planned on taking you out for burritos and now you’re in a dress. If we show up to a place without a chandelier you’ll throw a fit. Fancy things are never fun. I can’t enjoy a meal in a suit or a nice Christmas sweater. I’m too focused on not spilling. Bread always seems hard to reach for. I don’t like dressing like the wait staff either. That’s what happens when you go to fancy places and dress up fancy. You get mistaken for the help and then fired from a job that you don’t have when you refuse to bus a table. Try explaining that to the IRS. You can’t because they don’t have a reliable phone service. See what dresses do to me? They get me sidetracked.

The biggest day of any girl’s life is theoretically her wedding day. On that day, she wears a dress. A big white poofy floppy, hasn’t changed in hundreds of years, dress. Wedding dresses creep me out. I think I may have seen a movie when I was younger with a zombie in a wedding dress or maybe it’s that part in Gremlins 2 when the Gremlin goes up to kiss the guy in the bathroom while wearing a wedding dress that bothers me. Few things creep me out more than seeing a woman in a long white flowing dress. Wedding dresses are disgusting. They’re haunting. And what’s with the veil? I think that’s the worst part about it. It’s like a little see-through mask. Each time someone lifts it I get nervous that something is going to rip through their face. Old things scare me, traditions at least. A wedding dress feels too Medieval and all that reminds me of is the Bubonic Plague and then I get more freaked out. I pick up my feet afraid of rat bites. See what dresses do to me? They get me to quickly lift up my legs. I could pull a muscle or worse, a tendon doing that!

I do want to acknowledge that I get why a girl would wear a dress. It makes them feel pretty. I have never worn a dress so I don’t know if there are some special powers in the stitches that make them feel good. Until I do try on a dress, you are right and I am wrong. All that matters about clothing is how it makes you feel, not how weird I think you look in it.


Posted: September 24, 2011 in September 2011
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I don’t have any heroes. I used to. In 5th grade we were forced into writing an essay about an inspirational person. It was to get on some council with no power. I wrote about then Philadelphia Phillies third baseman Scott Rolen. I mentioned how he always hustled and had a high batting average with runners in scoring position. The two kids that won wrote about Bill Clinton and Jesus. One of them dropped out of high school and has a drug problem. The other has severe depression. I’m satisfied with choosing the 1997 National League Rookie of the Year.

It’s not uncommon for a person to have no real heroes. The older you get, the more human you realize every one of those men you used to worship are. Athletes certainly aren’t my heroes. Neither are musicians. Actors and actresses make a living being something they’re not. I need a hero, bad.

I never liked doing reports on an inspirational person or a hero in your personal life. I usually would alternate between my parents, whichever one had more money to buy me gifts at the time. That’s heroic. Buying gifts. Santa’s a hero to lots. Kids love that guy. I’ve always wanted someone to do a report on how much of a hero I am to them. I don’t blame people for never doing it, I’ve never done anything heroic. I would love to. I sometimes fantasize about pulling a woman from a car crash. I’d go deeper into my fantasy and how she “rewards” me later on, but that would sound less heroic than me simply saving her life.

Deep down inside, I know that I have been the hero to someone, at some point. I know someone has said it to me but I can’t remember who it was or why they said it. I don’t think it was ever serious though. With soldiers fighting wars, police gunning down criminals, firemen saving cats, it’s tough for me to find a niche audience to be the hero of. Kids usually think I’m cool. They always have. Younger people always look up to me for some reason. I like that. They think my bullshit, spoken from the heart, is helpful. Maybe it is. Or maybe I’ve just thrown them down a path into a deeper darkened passageway.

Someday I would like to know that I am someone’s true hero. Perhaps have someone be me for Halloween. That’s how I’ll know I truly am a hero. When a child thinks to themselves “Who would strangers most like to give candy to?” and my name pops up into their head. Move over Spiderman, Batman, and Dennis Rodman. There’s a new man who children want to be.

“I can be your hero, maybe.” – Enrique Iglesias

Why is it that the only people who watch shows about dating are people that nobody enjoys dating? Every girl I have known that likes the show The Bachelor or The Bachelorette has or has had a boyfriend that I have known to cheat on her. I might be breaking “guy code” here but I feel bad for these girls. They already have terrible taste in television and for their men to be out cheating on them upsets me. My recommendation, watch something that doesn’t involve handing out roses. Or, talk to him about something interesting. Maybe he’ll stop handing out his cum to 25 eligible women vying for his heart.


Last night at an exhibition hockey game in London, Ontario (showing the originality of Canadian city names, breakdown Newfoundland into three words and tell me that that isn’t the lousiest name ever) a fan threw a banana onto the ice while Philadelphia Flyers African-Canadian player Wayne Simmonds was taking his part in a sudden death shootout. Wayne scored the goal despite the piece of fruit hitting him, but that’s not what everyone is paying attention to.

I’m not sure where the fan got the banana. The fact that they had one shows that they had intentions to do something with it. Nobody brings bananas to a hockey game unless they are planning something bad or have an extreme potassium deficiency. It’s weird that it took them the entire game to finally throw it onto the ice. They had to have had that planned. They went to a lot of effort for this. They had to go on the Internet and research the Flyers roster, find out that there was a black player on the team, go to the store and hatefully purchase a banana with a clenched fist and asshole (probably several bananas, you’d look creepy buying one), go to the game and wait around with a banana in their pocket, and then finally after regulation, throw the banana at the player. At no time in this entire process did they think that what they were doing was wrong. For at least 5 hours, suggesting that they purchasing the banana pre-game, all they could think about was throwing a banana at another human being. Lets say that they bought the banana a day early. That banana sat in their home next to apples and cornucopias while they waited to go to the game to declare their hatred for all black people. I envy this man. To have such resistance to not eat a banana and instead waste it by trying to start a race war. Bananas don’t last more than 5 minutes in my home.

I get why the banana thrower did what he did. I totally do. He wanted to make a statement and see if maybe he could get the Grand Wizard of the Canadian KKK (they’re actually called the CCCC, Canadian Clu Clux Clan, not to be confused with many community colleges in America) to blow him. They haven’t been able to identify who the man who threw the banana was yet, but we all know how much idiots like to brag about stupid shit they do that it will come out.

Rage, disgust, and hatred aren’t words that describe how I feel about this. Indifferent is more like it. I understand what happened was unacceptable, but I’m not involved. I’m not black, I’m not from the Canadian London, and I don’t care about the outcome of a preseason hockey game. People will take this as a reflection of how most hockey fans feel about blacks which is untrue. Categorizing all groups of people into one, especially when it’s negative, is usually false. One fruit wasting Canadian jack-off (that may be redundant) who hates black people is not a representation of anything more than his own emotions and feelings. Don’t forget that. We are all responsible for our own actions and behavior. One bad apple doesn’t spoil the bunch. We have freewill.

The strangest thing about all of this to me is that if something like this happened 50 years ago, the man who threw the banana would have been elected mayor. 80 years ago he would have already been the mayor. 150 years and he would have been the greatest hero of all time. Human kind has come really far in the last 100 years. In the western world, at the very least, people are treated as equals for the most part. The world has existed for millions of years. Millions! People have been around for like 12,000 or so, I’m not sure. That’s something everybody should know but even scientists aren’t positive about that. Anyway, out of those 12,000 years of human existence, only have about 150 of them been in a world where slavery is seen as bad. Holy shit! 12,000 divided by 150 is 80. I don’t know what that means but it doesn’t matter. The odds of living in a time when slavery is viewed as wrong is so slim. More people have lived under a pro-slavery regime than haven’t. How bout them apples–or bananas for that matter.

What I am trying to say is that things take time. You can’t turn around traditions overnight. We’ve made tremendous progress as humans in the last 100 years alone. When the first plane was invented women couldn’t vote. Human beings could fly through the air yet women were not allowed to write down what crook they wanted to represent them at city council meetings. It’s amazing. Appreciate the times you live in. Anybody reading this is the in the top one percentile of all-time in health and freedoms. Racism will not die overnight so stop babying people into thinking that it should. We need dumb Canadians to throw bananas at tough black guys to remind us all how good we’ve all got it.

Bearskin Condoms

Posted: September 23, 2011 in September 2011
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I heard a radio advertisement for the new “Bearskin Condoms” from America’s trusted condom brand, Spartan. (I’m on the real name of the company’s hate list, not allowed to mention them without proper documentation) Condoms made out of bearskin. The flesh of a grizzly. The epidermis of a panda. Go into the woods with a shotgun, shoot Winnie the Pooh in the gut, and make him into a jimmy hat. This is a new low, even for the species that gave us slavery and 4 nights a week of singing competitions.

Bears are very majestic animals. Sure, they maul Jewish campers once every few years. Remember though, you’re on their turf. They don’t believe in a God nor do they follow pop culture. They don’t give a shit if your name is Ted, Barry, or Marilynn, bears will eat you if they’re hungry. That’s what makes them so awesome. Giant claws that can swat off your face. And now we’re taking these awesome animals and killing them for our own hatred of children. All moose, be on alert. I have a feeling that you’re next.

I’ve heard of sheep skin condoms before and that doesn’t bother me. Sheep are an animal that is made for killing, like cows and chickens. Any animal that will sit in a field and not attempt to escape belongs on my plate. Well, sometimes I eat out of a basket. It depends on the place, but you get the point. Bears are an animal that I don’t want getting killed. I love bears. They’re the best animal at the zoo. Any normal human being at some point has owned a stuffed bear. Mine’s name is Papa. I’m not sure why, he’s never given me any fatherly advice.

Bearskin Condoms are something that I want nothing to do with. Of course I’ve wondered what bear flesh feels like against my dick, I’m human, sue me. I hope in the not too distant future that bears get their revenge on us. They go into malls and use pretzel distributors as condoms. The bears deserve it. They’ve given us so many majestic images of smacking salmon out of the air that we owe it to them. Don’t fuck with bear skin on your dick. It’s like fucking everything nature represents. Beauty, solace, and deadly volcanoes.

My girlfriend told me that angels don’t have cocks or pussies. She didn’t exactly say it like that, she used a bigger word to describe those without a sex. Andromeda I think it was.

I don’t know why angels can’t have private parts and still be “divine.” They already do have genders. Michael and Gabriel are clearly men. If they were intended to be sexless then their names would be Jesse or Pat.

While I’m on the topic of angels, I’m going to delve deep into it. Nothing about them makes sense. They need wings to fly, when really, they shouldn’t. They should be able to float wherever they want. The wings give it away that they are angels and then that ruins the whole point of being mysterious and doing God’s work. Their big clumsy wings flutter when they walk into the room and everyone’s eyes go on them. They know a miracle is about to happen which to me makes it no miracle. A miracle cannot be planned. Otherwise it’s just a series of events and people trying really hard to make things better. I don’t believe in miracles. I believe in coincidences and people working hard to get what they want.

The scary thing about being an angel is that they have been working forever. Since the beginning of time they’ve had the same job. I get it, it’s a great gig. You have all the answers to the universe and you get to travel. Still, I wouldn’t want the same job for that long. For an eternity. I doubt there is some angel retirement plan. I don’t even know how you would create more angels since they don’t have reproductive organs. An angel can never get a blow job. Wow, I’ll take not knowing the origin of man over that.

The only way I can see more angels to be created is to kill humans and then train them. So really, the point in life is to live and hope that on the off-chance an angel is thinking about retirement, and you of all people get chosen to replace them. It has to be a really hard test too. A written and physical one that few can pass. I’d get nervous. That could be why there is so much bad in the world. Angels have been retiring and it’s really tough to find a replacement.

I don’t know what happens after we die. Surprise! The more I think about it, the more I don’t want there to be anything. I’m afraid of eternity. We can’t even grasp what eternity is. It’s forever. Julius Caesar, Mark Twain, Ken Griffey VIII, the first human to walk on two legs, all of these people will live in an eternity and that’s not even all of it. An eternity is so long. I couldn’t possibly figure out what to do in an eternity. Not only that, it’s an eternity without a real mission. At least in life we get careers and try to make the best of the time we do have, most of us. In an eternity we have an eternity to get off our asses and try to do something. We’ll become lazy and nothing will ever be accomplished. I don’t want to live in an eternity. That sounds so frightening to me. My hope is that when we die we are transported to an alternative universe. Kind of like a video game sort of thing. This life is just round one. Maybe round two we get to live it over again and make different decisions. I could do that. Even if I didn’t know that was how it worked I could go for that instead of an eternity that leads to nothing. Bring on the 5th dimension. There are no winged buffoons there.


Posted: September 22, 2011 in September 2011
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I am a genius. There, I said it. The first step to becoming awesome is admitting it. I think it’s pretty humbling the fact that I have waited this long to let the world know that I am a closeted genius. I fall into that category of “I’m not cocky, I’m confident.” Most people who use that phrase are untalented and only care about themselves. They should really say “I have lousy friends who make me look better, I’m not really that great.” But then people would be honest and who wants to live in a world like that?

Everyone reading this can agree on who out of humankind are geniuses. Albert Einstein is the first that comes to mind. Then there’s William Shakespeare, Stephan Hawking, Watson & Crick (I think that’s the name of the guys who discovered the DNA strand, or maybe I’m thinking of those Jewish lawyers with the bad commercials), Benjamin Franklin, Ken Jennings, and whoever the agent for the “Epic Movie” guys happens to be. I mean seriously. Those things don’t even make that much money. Those men are all geniuses. Sometimes women are geniuses too but this is my blog and I won’t mention either of them.

Below is proof that I am a genius. That is, proof if you believe that I too have these qualities. I’ll try to “dumb it down” for some of you. I know we can’t all be as smart as I am. Without further adieu, here are the signs that you too are a genius.

Sign 1) Messy Hair

My hair is very messy. I haven’t gotten a haircut in almost a year and I never comb it. Sometimes I’ll even make it messier on purpose, giving the illusion that I am smarter than I really am. I don’t need to do this because I’m already a genius. It does however make all scientists and members of MENSA look up to me more as an older brother than as an equal.

Sign 2) Reclusive

I am very reclusive. I once went two years without being photographed. I live alone and there are a lot of trees in my neighborhood. My neighbors don’t know my name and I rarely say hello to them. Normally they would think I was a jerk. Since I do have all of the signs of a genius, they forgive me and ask me for help with science homework.

Sign 3) Hard To Understand Speaking Voice

I don’t really stutter, but when I do talk a lot of the time it doesn’t make sense. It’s not really a lisp. I know there’s something wrong with my voice. Nobody’s ever said there was. A teacher once made someone else do a voiceover for me on a project for school. The kid he chose to do it was a black student and they always have great speaking voices. I’m not saying that blacks can’t be geniuses, just not the ones that have smooth voices. I also seem to spit a lot when I talk. Something us geniuses have in common.

Sign 4) Socially Awkward

I’m not so much socially awkward as I am unwilling to listen about the lives of others. I’m sorry, you’re boring. Are those really the best crackers you’ve ever had? I don’t care! All geniuses are socially awkward because we are usually thinking up new mathematical formulas to help save the world. While we’re doing that you’re usually watching Jersey Shore with your ugly friends.

Sign 5) Irrational Fears

All geniuses have at least one irrational fear. The more you have, the smarter you are. I have a lot of irrational fears. I’m constantly afraid of having someone use technology against me. Technology is something that us geniuses do not understand. Some of us create new technologies, but that does not mean we understand it. Fathers create teenage girls and they don’t always understand them. Anything is possible. That’s the motto of smart people. It helps us keep an open mind.

Sign 6) A Questionable Sexuality

My sexuality has come into question a lot in my life. People debate whether I’m a stud muffin or a natural-born Casanova. Like with geniuses of the past, I like to keep them wondering if how suave I am will get in the way of improving human life.

Sign 7) Lack Of Common Sense

I have little common sense. I work like a machine. I have a task, I get that task completed without thinking about it. Us geniuses tend to use your brains so much that menial jobs will be done poorly due to stress on the inner labrum. That’s a part of the brain if you didn’t know.

For further proof of how much of a genius I am, ask anyone that knows me. They will agree that I am the most brilliant person that they have ever met. If they say that I’m not then they’re probably jealous and trying to hack into my computer and steal all of my ideas.