Wednesday, December 31, 2008
That's right Hatredy's own Johnnyboy's first endorsed product! Honestly dude, I can't wait to get me some pessimistic goodness from Garden Terrace (a subsidiary of the Gillman Group).
Side effects may include: upset stomach, dirty jackets, musty living, black lung, erections lasting less than 32 seconds, whiskey dick, more bills, an angry wang and extreme bouts of laziness well after symptoms subside.
Monday, December 22, 2008
“What’s your favorite show?” “I don’t have time to watch television.” First of all, you are a fucking liar. Everybody squeezes in their share of hours on the tube, at the very least weekly. If you are too busy eating tofu and trying not to break your own neck (as you try to suck your own dick), then surely your wi-fi connection at Starfucks on your Macbook Air, you watch Hulu or any number of online webcasts. My point is everyone watches television. Everyone also has to deal with commercials that come with this form of entertainment. We always will, you have to pay the bills somehow. Back in the day, be it cars, beer, food, toys and household products that dominated these 4 minute breaks. Now, even during a damn NFL game, I see commercials for pills and other medications. Whether it is acid reflux (motherfucking check on that) or trying to pop a boner (check in 10-30 years or when I’m way too drunk), these commercials are rampant. Then I see these anti-depressant commercials, ah I don’t need pills to make me happy (Although other staff here would beg to differ). That’s what booze are for. But those commercials make a fair point. However, I am more of a natural high type of guy. I hate working out, but I like the feeling I get when I lose a couple of pounds and avoid growing a nice rack of man-boobs for another few years. I like the smell of fresh baked cookies or a mid-day nap. But then again there are some things I like that I can’t necessarily talk about at lunch with my co-workers, so here it is a list of things that make me happy. A long few years ago, a big Yale offensive lineman in a drunken rage told my father that I am an asshole. He then stared me down, with a frozen pizza box in hand and uttered these words, “Jon, you are a miserable bastard and are going to die alone.” He then threw the pizza box at my beloved Lazy Boy chair. I then thought to myself, “Well, I can barely share a queen size bed with a lady, much less a casket.” While that man still holds a lifelong grudge against me, I am really not that bad of a guy. I’m not that miserable, but what is being happy? I’ll tell you what happy is…
Getting a blowjob without having to return the favor. Don’t get me wrong if the maincourse is just of the oral consent, I don’t mind going down on a fresh, nubile vagina. In fact, I’ve repeatedly been told that I am a champ at it (it can be a hairy situation at times though). Sometimes after a long day it just hurts my neck and I don’t feel like it. If the girl doesn’t care (or I don’t care about her) I’ll take a benevolent blowjob any day of the week. I know what you’re thinking: penetrating is great (and it is!), but there are days (specifically lazy Sundays) where I’ll just as well take that blowjob and get off just as much. You know what got me off the most? The fact that I contributed absolutely nothing to the cause…oh yeah and her mouth. Next...
Taking a big, old fashioned dump. Oh I just did one, which is making me write this post. So as I’ve alluded to earlier, I have an acid reflux issue and yes it sucks. The short end of the story is that I oft take shits. Some messy, some refreshingly quick, some after drinking beer (the uglies). Every now and again there will be the perfect dump. It’s hard to explain, but I’ll try. There was a time several years ago when I took Imodium…in massive amounts. I was on vacation and with my stomach problems mounting, I wasn’t going to let anything stop me from letting loose, pun intended. I guess I got Imodium confused with Tums and Gas-X and didn’t take a shit for nearly five days. Five days of burgers, fries, milkshakes, cookies, chips, beer, hard alcohol, soft alcohol, chicken wings, pizza and late night bags of greasy chips and other unhealthy garbage all sitting in my stomach. After three days, I embarrassingly told a buddy about this problem. Was it a change in scenery? Were my stomach and asshole on non-speaking terms? He bluntly explained just what Imodium does so now I play the waiting game and have to stew in my poopy juices. Well the waiting game concluded once I returned from my vacation…at work. Relieved, I went…and went. It might have been a Guinness Book record. I even took a picture of it to share with my co-workers. Now I know what it feels like to give birth to a little shit of a child.
Eating enough raw cookie dough to give me a stomachache. Actually that one is pretty straight forward, it’s just delicious.
Imitating a friend’s voice…until he or she wants to physically harm you. So I have a small talent, or so I’ve been told that I can imitate some people pretty well. We all know it is an extrapolation of how the imitatee acts, but it’s not always seen that way. I’ve been told imitation is the best form of flattery, so I view my imitations as just that. If I really hated someone’s guts, why would I have put the time in to do an imitation in the first place? When people are drunk or angry…or both, they often tell you how they feel about you without pulling any punches. Some is said at merely the heat of the moment and should not be taken seriously at sober, less raging, happier times. The same goes for an imitation. Once you discover funny words to say as an imitator, you test it out in the car, then in front of a friend, then a group of friends, then a bar, all while doing this behind the imitatee’s back (especially if it is a dead-on imitation). Eventually, this becomes a cycle of life for you and your group of friends. You get ready to go out, get in your car, buy the beer, get drunk and do the imitation. After a period of time, you start to do the voice (usually in a very sly manner) in front of the person you are imitating. Sometimes, the person will recognize this and say, “Hey is that me!?! Haha, that’s pretty good.” In a perfect world, said person would even embrace it to the point where, it grows old and runs its course. Most of my friends, however, are the ones that will tell me my faults and quirks. Tell me how I don’t know when enough is enough, tell me how drunk I got last night and tell me about the regrettable women I’ve pleasured or displeasured. Out of all of my friends, I will be the first to admit that my tongue is way to sharp for its own good. I can break a person down to a point where their only riposte is physical harm towards me. Good comeback. Where was I going with this?
Retro video games, hanging out with my nieces and nephew (because they are more interesting to talk to rather than the miserable adults in the family), sex in which the woman lets me really have my way, a great meal of Italian or Spanish food, the first date with a chick I actually might like, money, gigantic HDTVs, refreshingly pleasing customer service, watching a great flick, stupid viral clips, the perfect haircut, knowing I have the drive to be more successful than most of my friends, discovering a great band’s catalog for the first time, being pleasantly surprised (by an unsuspecting movie/CD), a great sports game, the feeling you get from drinking right in between the buzz and being too drunk, buying gadgets/movies I don’t really need and laughing so hard it hurts are other less detailed things that place me in high spirits. Overall, I am not very difficult to please. A big flaw, at least in the eyes of people that think they know me, is that I love to laugh. Sometimes at what, is questionable. The bottom line, is while you are breaking down my character in your head while angrily crying yourself to sleep listening to Papa Roach’s Last Resort, I am having a rough time sleeping as well, but only because my 50 inch television gives off a ton of light. The truth of it all is this: I’m better than you and during this ecomonic crisis some extra money can in fact buy happiness. Just remember kids, a laugh at someone else's expense, exhilarating dumps and blowjobs (if you apply yourself) are free and great. So be a jerk, take a shit and whip it out life is too short (just not in my direction).
Monday, September 29, 2008
The people who are going to be hurt by this, or more importantly the only people that I give a shit about in this instance, are the middle class Americans who are going to see their 401 K's etc. raped by this. That reason alone should be enough to send those Wall Street cocksuckers to jail for life. Greed corrupts, and we all know that, but now we can actually see it. I am grinning from ear to ear just contemplating the clenched fisted anxiety and panic that the "upper crust" are feeling right now.
I say fuck em. Get together in groups, if you're retirement plans, or your hard earned money has been negatively effected by this, and go storm the Country Clubs. Burn them down, sink the boats at the yacht clubs, slash tires on Mercedes, throw dog shit at mansions, and when you see a guy walking down the street wearing shoes that are worth more than you make in two weeks, beat the ever living shit out of him and shove his shoes up his ass. Man it feels good to watch them cringe.
(I am in no way advocating violence, destruction of property or vandalism... If you feel the need to engage in such activities, enjoy prison.)
Monday, August 25, 2008
I would respect, and maybe even watch the Olympics if they were played every four years, in Greece, and only if the sports were classic and period. Discus, Javelin, Running, Wrestling..... the real shit. I doubt the original Olympians had synchronized diving, BMX'ing or ping pong in their plans. Shit, I bet if you had proposed one of those "hobbies" to the original Olympians, they would probably have given you a quizzical look and then skewered your beer gut on a spear. (Due to the fact that they wouldn't have any idea what a BMX was, and you probably wouldn't be speaking ancient Greek.) Alas, 'ti's not to be. We're stuck with a bunch of bullshit sports that no one gives a shit about.
Running. Theres a fucking joke. Every race some lanky Jamaican or Nigerian wins. I don't even know why white guys try. Lets face it folks, they're running either in a straight line, or a big loop. Wow, what athletes. How 'bout next time around, the crowd can throw things at the runners, or even try to tackle them. Snipers should be dispatched all around the arena and every once in a while a runaway car should make an appearance on the track. Lets see you outrun a .556 Usain. I say fill the pools with salt water and aggressive sharks. If you can swim fast, great... now lets see if you can outrun Jaws, Michael.. my bet is you can't.
That IOC (International Olympic Committee) is a waste of time. What a great beacon of sports and sportsmanship. Allow blatant cheating when it comes to an athlete from the host country, and then on top of that, allow the whole damn thing to take place in a communist country that has been systematically destroying the spirit of not only it's own people, but the people of an oppressed country called... oh... Tibet for years. Justice and sport for all! If Michael Phelps had any class, or any sort of real American Patriotism, he would take his medals and return them to the committee. Or ask that the gold be melted down and the money sent to a family in Tibet. All the American athletes should. Would they accept medals from Iran, or Syria? Same thing people. Just goes to show that the Olympic spirit of thousands of years ago is dead and gone.
At least the shitshow known as the Olympics is over, and I don't have to hear about it for another four years. Just knowing that it's coming back though is enough to make my blood boil. If that wasn't bad enough... the Winter Olympics are coming up... I think. Great. The ancient Greek tradition of ski-jumping and bobsledding will live on for years to come. I think I'm going to be sick.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
He never won a ring with the Yanks. He played his ass off though. Batted a career .277 with 252 homers and 1,043 RBI's. Not too shabby. As a Yankee fan who began his journey through the wonder of the pinstripes during the 80's, I missed his time on the squad. He played his last year the year I was born though, so I feel that I was around for the Murcer years. I knew of Murcer through his wonderful commentary. His back woods, small town, hicky slang mingled with and burned in the bright lights of the big apple. The kid from Oklahoma was more a New Yorker than half of the guys on the grand squad from the Bronx these days. He bled baseball, and more importantly, he bled pinstripes. Love the Yanks or hate them, no one can say they didn't have a soft spot in their hearts for Bobby.
Allen is a story we hear from our grandparents, Rizzuto is a fond memory, Sterling is a great alternative to watching the Bombers on the tube, and Bobby is a player/announcer Yankee legend. From his, "doggoneit's" to his, "that's a fine play right there" and finally to his, "ahhh, well... that's baseball" s <----if you know that one, you're a Yankee fan.. we are going to miss Bobby and his re-assuring voice. On the field, the scrappy outfielder never said die, and against cancer, he fought it tooth and nail, but even legends are human beings. Bobby, we hope you're in a better place, playing ball on perfect green fields, catching balls on great hops in short center, giving you great chances at nailing the opposition's speedster at the plate. We're going to miss your voice, your presence and your love for the game, and for the pinstripes. Rest in peace Bobby... have a round with Gherig, Ruth, DiMaggio and Mantle on us down here. I for one can't wait to meet you one day.
R. I. P Bobby Murcer
NYY 1965-1974 1979-1983
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
1. My Voice
I have the kind of voice that makes James Earl Jones sound like a cub scout. No matter how many cigarettes you smoke, how many times you scream until your throat is sore and red... you will never have the same velvety, masculine tone that I can pull out at a moments notice. Rupert Murdock actually asked me never to go into radio, as this move would destroy his Fox Network and T.V. in general. One time a girl sucked my dick in front of her parents just because of the way I said, "I really dig your shoes."
Don't even try it mongo, I am smarter than you. Sometimes I find it hard to date because of the inevitable feeling, of being unworthy to wipe my ass, women feel when they, "pick my brain." I can make someone feel stupid in seconds by ripping apart their deepest and most secure dreams and aspirations. Plainly put, I make people want to kill themselves because they know they'll never reach my level mentally. You'd think, that this kind of belief would inspire someone to increase their level of intelligence, but you're wrong. Because you're stupid.
3. Sexual Prowess
Oh yeah, that's right. Every move you've ever put on a partner, fails in comparison to the lamest moves in my vast repertoire. While you're struggling to slip your greasy finger into some co-ed's pants, I am gently setting the mood by lighting incenses from the fairest regions of the mysterious Orient.. while you're trying to unbutton your button fly pants ( yeah you're probably one of those losers who wears button fly ) I am hand feeding my conquest fresh cherrystone's on the half shell with drawn truffle butter. While you're feebly humping away at Krystal, or Sharice, or whatever your pathetic target's name is, I am holding back my orgasm with ancient tantric pelvic restriction methods, whilst taking my conquest to new levels of ecstasy while my horse-cock does a calisthenics routine three feet deep in her snatch. Have you ever heard a woman you've JUST met say, "by everything holy in this universe I pray that you got me pregnant."? No you haven't, and you never will. I hear it two, three times a week.
4. I Never Lose Fights
Oh sure, I bet you've won a fight or two.... but have you won them all? Nope. Well guess what, I have. I carry a large caliber hand-gun. No one is going to beat me in a bar fight, road rage incident or anything which may lead to fisticuffs. You know what I call fisticuffs? 'Pulloutmygunicuffs'. I would fight Kimbo, Tyson, or any of those UFC fuckers, and I'd win ; because the night before the fight I would sneak into their homes and shoot them. Cowardly? Sure, but I'm alive, you're dead, I win.
There will be more soon my friends, but right now I need to rest my superior brain and jerk off with my bigger more powerful hands and wang.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
George Carlin is the reason this blog is here.
Until about 1999, I was quite unknowing in the ways of comedy. I knew funny when I saw it, but couldn't separate or replicate it. Like everyone "I loved to laugh" (Thank You Patton Oswalt), but when it came to my own understanding of comedy, I was very awkward. I can distinctly recall the first time I made a group of people laugh intentionally. It was the spring of 1999, I was a freshman in high school, and during a music class, the teacher said "Pachelbel" and I immediately quipped "Did you say Taco Bell?". The whole room laughed. It felt amazing.
Christmas of that year, my parents bought a CD for my brother and I called "You Are All Diseased". "What's this?" we asked. "Stand-up Comedy" said my parents. I was unaware that, like music, which makes you feel emotions, there were CDs that made you laugh. More than CDs. People. People who, without clown make-up, could just say funny things that would make me die laughing.
A short list of all the people George Carlin introduced me to:
Patton Oswalt, Zach Galafianakis, Brian Posehn, Maria Bamford, David Cross, Eugene Mirman, H. Jon Benjamin, Mitch Hedberg (R.I.P.) Morgan Murphy, Demetri Martin, Doug Benson, Arj Barker, Tony Camin, Richard Pryor, Bill Hicks (R.I.P.), Louis C.K., Daniel Tosh, Jay Mohr, Jim Bruer, Jim Gaffigan, Kevin James, Mike Birbiglia, Todd Barry, Paul F. Tompkins, Dave Attell, Michael Ian Black, Michael Showalter, David Wainever he feels like it, Nick Swardson, Chris Hardwick, Nick Thune, Todd Glass, Neil Hamburger, Ian Edwards, Scott Aukerman, Mindy Kaling, Dan Mintz, Paul F. Tompkins, Early Adam Sandler, Sarah Silverman, Jonathan Katz, Ron White, and Dana Carvey.
If I had never gotten that first George Carlin CD, I would have no idea what funny is.
Like many other events in my life (or certain events in anyones life), I can distinctly recall where I was, what I was doing, when I heard George was dead. I was sleeping. I had been ignoring my phone, except to see who called or texted. John texted me at 12:01pm. "Farewell, Mr. Carlin". I immediately jumped out of bed and went to Yahoo!News. It was horribly, awfully true.
Which brings me to my conclusion. Phrases like "I laughed, I cried" are exactly the kind of crap George hated. I hate them too. But I'll say this: George Carlin made me laugh, and cry. I laughed everytime I heard his voice, and cried my eyes out when I knew I'd never hear it say something new, and funny, and intelligent, and profound.
He's Screaming Up at Us.
I'll always be listening.
"....But the great thing about George is, he left us hours upon hours of video to remember him with."- Jon Stewart
RIP GEORGE CARLIN 5.12.1937-6.22.2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
I never really knew my grandfathers. On my Italian side, my grandfather was your traditional hard worker that made sure he put food on the table for his family. He seemed like a great man, but died ten years before I was born. On my Puerto Rican side, my grandfather lived on the island, while I lived here in the states. He seemed like a fun-loving, great guy, but passed away when I was five, so I never really got to know him and my memories of him are pleasant, but limited. Where am I going with this? When I have kids and they have kids, I guess my days are numbered.
So where does an impressionable young boy go to find a grandfather-like figure? Many, many years ago our family received (by accident and illegally) HBO. Sure there were your new movies as always on Saturday nights, but on rare occasions (even rarer today) they would have stand-up comedian preform. As a young kid, I saw this mean looking man with a white beard and ponytail, dressed in all black standing alone on stage making people laugh by saying bad words. He cursed, made funny faces, acted animated, and made my brother and father laugh. Most importantly, there was some push back on my mom’s part with me watching it, so I knew I absolutely had to. I was memorized. I didn’t even know what I was laughing at most of the time, but it was never forced laughter. It was George Carlin. He could tell you about the state of the economy, question religion, present some observational ramblings, then crack a few fart jokes. That what I loved about Carlin. He was never above what makes us all laugh (even if we think we are too old for it) with the most intelligent things a mortal man would never think of or the simplest things in life that we take for granted. He challenged and pushed the boundaries of free speech, makes no apologies and made it look easy. Comedians like Carlin don’t grow old and die, they become legends and pioneers. If my family, friends, colleagues, associates, romantic interests, and co-workers have wondered why I complain, make off-the cuff remarks, say things that others are afraid to say, make inappropriate jokes, and question “the system”? It’s because I probably listened to too many George Carlin records in my time and have tried to emulate his style, sometimes knowingly, often unknowingly. I write on this blog and feel like an asshole-weirdo with some of the absurd things I say. Why do I say these things? Why do I think these things? Am I insane? Am I adopted? Am I drunk? (yes, no, and most of the time). About a month ago, I listened to some of my old Carlin CDs and realized one thing: he did it first. I no longer felt alone. He set the standard and all I can do is follow in footsteps, as only this patriarch and grandfather of comedy can do.
On the subject of George Carlin, I wrote a blog a couple of months ago after listening to a few his CDs. I got inspired and wrote this blog, which is angry, weird, and absurd. In the vein of (but not as good as, hey I’m not a professional, fuck off) George Carlin, here is…
"Quotation is a serviceable substitute for wit." Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde said that. Nothing more wilde has ever been so true (although that dude was a freak). Truth be told, be it written, printed, AIM away message (more on that here), or Facebook, a lot of people quote. Why? Some people want to be holistic (The Bible), some people want to be clever (insert comedian here), and some people want to get punched in the face (Paris Hilton or random whore here). Frankly, we have all quoted someone’s brain droppings at some point because we ourselves have nothing overly creative to say. Even in high school, we sum up the accumulation of 4 years (or more) by inserting a quote in our senior yearbook. I never did that, though. While my peers were quoting Steely Dan, The Bible, and Positive K (I got a man), I had zilch under my name. In hindsight, I deeply regret it. In further hindsight, I don’t at all, but in the furthest hindsight, I kind of do again. My biggest initial obstacle in failing to choose a person to quote was making sure another classmate (especially one I loathed) hadn’t already chosen the quote I likely had my probably bloodshot (I don’t remember) eyes on. I always wanted to quote someone that has never been quoted before. My choice today would have to be George Carlin. Although he is a quotable fellow that had been cited a ton of times, I recall George on stage one night pondering a sentence that had never been uttered by another human being…ever. It had to be first-rate and completely outlandish. He then came up with, “As soon as I pull this hot poker out of my ass, I’m going to chop my dick off!!” Carlin was the first ever to string those bizarre words together (I hope at least). Has that ever been quoted, in a yearbook no less? I think not.
As seen here at the 1:16 mark:
Ok, so that one is a bit extreme. I have actually seen the quote "Make love, not war" in a yearbook. While I thought that was cliche, George Carlin actually wished he was the man that created it. He didn't, so he offered up this one: "Make fuck, not kill." We have a winner, teach. It’s great to be the first. I can’t wait for that 10 year reunion coming up. So with the way technology changes, the way we can “quote” changes as well. For those of us who are too money for reading, you can watch videos online instead. Dig this, daddio, you can embed (or “put in” for you normals) videos into your own website text or Blogger account (that’s us!). I like that word embed, it’s a classy way of saying rape. That would make the news less nauseating. While we have the sentence “Serial killer Prance Hartfeld raped this latest victim”, the word “embed” and some additional synonyms could change that. Entertainment in installments eradicator Slick Prance Hartfeld embedded his swinebeast in his least tardy chicky-poo that was askin’ for it. Okay, that’s appalling. Admittedly, I’ve raped YouTube videos onto this blog. Our own Blogger Phil even tried serial rape his way into becoming the unofficial poster-boy for HULU. What better way to be original than show a video someone else made (several years ago at that). I digress, I suppose I never really cared what my peers thought of my in high school. In fact, a Carlin quote I always used for my AIM profile (talk about hypocritical) was "People who say they don't care what people think are usually desperate to have people think they don't care what people think. " Anyway, back to my yearbook quote, I wonder what that quote would look like had I been on our crack yearbook staff…..
In any case, thanks, George. You will be greatly missed by this asshole. Let us know if God is anything like Joe Pesci like you wanted. Rest in Peace, you will not be forgotten.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Okay, so this blog is as worthless as Phil's HULU suckfest, but come on, look at that. It's Jason Giambi's moving tribute to Don Mattingly circa his "Hitman" era playing days. I for one love it. Clean-cut Yankees manager Joe Girardi has viewed all the scouting reports and believes the Yankees owe their recent success to the power of the mustache. Johnny Damon and others are following. As for Giambi, he's breaking slumps and the hearts of single 40-something women everywhere. No mortal man can be certain as to when the first whiskers sprouted on Giambi’s upper lip but since May 15th Giambi has a .388 batting average with 5 dingers and 11 RBIs. Oh, not to mention he has upped his batting average 77 points from .181 to a much more respectable .258. How cool are Burt Renyolds and Tom Selleck now? Now the Yanks have a bit of a winning streak, so come along for the mustache ride, drink a brew or 10 and enjoy the summer.
P.S. I realized the ladies may like a fella with a clean-cut look. Well sorry, ladies if you want a clean stache, it's going to look a lot like this....
So do you want to know why you can never have this guy, ladies? Because he is strong, sensitive, and has a boyfriend. And yes, he is the best Met of the past 15 years. Kind of sad really. My third blog on mustaches, but don't worry I don't play on Piazza's team.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Things Hitler Could Have Done To Make Himself Seem Less Evil
1. Get Rid of That Moustache
What the hell was he thinking? That thing just reeks of evil. Hell even psychos in old timey movies had Snidely Whiplash handle bar moustaches. Even though 'ol Snidely was trying the blond virgin to the train tracks, there was something about that 'stash that made you think, "eh I kinda like this guy." Sorry Adolph... the moustache was a bad idea.
2. Instead of Killing Millions of Jews, Kill Millions of Coldplay Fans.
So what if they didn't exist in the 1930's-1940's... They all deserve to get it. There's nothing more dis-heartening than flipping on the radio and hearing that whiny bullshit band clanging away. It almost makes me want to drive my car into a tree. Maybe he could have killed the forefathers of Coldplay fans... how would he have know you ask? Just round up all the guys out there who cry when they see a flower, or guys who wore socks that matched their shirts. Bastards all of them.
3. Stop Yelling All The Fucking Time
Did he have to yell all the time? I mean c'mon Aloise (yes if you didn't know the bastard's real name was Aloise Shicklegruber, Adolph Hitler doesn't sound too bad now does it?) just pipe down. What was it like taking that guys order in a restaurant? "And for you mien fuhrer?" "GIVE ME THE CHICKEN, THE CHICKEN, NO RICE, I HATE RICE, MAYBE SOME ICE WATER TO HAVE WITH IT, MY TUMMY HURTS!!! DO YOU HAVE ALKA SELTZER??" No wonder his ho offed herself.
4. Stop Trying to Kill My Grandfather
OK so maybe Hitler didn't personally try to kill my Grandfather, but his fucking army sure as hell made it a mission to do so. That shit pisses me off. My Grandfather waxed a shitload of Nazi's and that's pretty awesome. He probably would have gotten alot more if they hadn't been shooting at his tank constantly. Dirty Nazi schmucks... they had to make things complicated.
5. Shot Himself About Twenty Years Before 1945
What would people say about him then? "Oh yeah Hitler? yeah he was that short weirdo painter who wrote that book about how he was the man and that Jews and pretty much everyone else in the world were bad. He was a dick dude... but who cares, lets get some pizza."
Hitler was a mass-murdering cocksucker, but there are still backwards psychos out there who think he was A-OK. What a world. Wow I want pizza now.
I think Jason Bateman and Paul Rudd are underrated comedic actors that could star in a really good movie, but together, it would be box office gold. When thinking of a title for said buddy flick, what would the title be? RuddBate. It made me laugh hysterically for five minutes given the fact that there is absolutely no plot. After creating this, I didn't find it as funny (I'm sure you dont either). Onward....
Congratulations to my buddy Tony. He's the first of my bros to start a family. Here's a picture of that happy family.....
Ok, maybe not. This bizarre photo was supposed to be part of a greater creation as a comedic foray into video, but you guessed it, I was too lazy. Maybe the video will appear on the site one day.
R.I.P. Hatredy's very own Phil. His dog ate him.
But who would commission such an act of trechary? Hmmm. Clearly someone that knows him but doesnt like him much. But I dont know any angry, evil millionaires, wait....
Mutual admiration, right there folks.
Speaking of anger, I've saved the best for last. Ladies who are pro-choice, I want to give you an option. I'm not about pro-choice, I'm about pro-choices. This is a new option....
Thanks to blogger for fucking up the picture, but I'm to lazy to do anything about it and could care less if you enjoyed this. Have a great day.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Children are assholes. Sure, when they are born they come out of one hole, but they act like the other in turn. Ever wonder why people say, “Don’t act like a baby.” Simply stated, you are acting like a first class, Grade-A, Glenn Guilia asshole. I’m not bashing kids, I love my nieces and nephew. I think they are awesome, but like any decently flawed human being, they do act accordingly. Crying to get your way, pandering for the newest toys, dominating the television, wearing your shoes on the wrong foot, watching the same DVD over AND OVER again, and knowingly taking what’s not yours, I even know some people my age that still act that way. I have to admire it in a way. If life was hockey, children would be goons. Yet, why aren’t children brought to justice and called out on these flaws? Well, some are grounded and some get a “time out” (mostly by pussy white parents that need to go back to “Caucasia” forever), but we forgive children because they are young, unknowledgeable, immature and don’t know any better, like your typical Mets fan. If you knew, sooner or later, that you would have to grow up, wouldn’t you really milk acting however you want? Bear in mind that there are many adults who act this way and, of course, the mentally challenged are excused. However, should you read this and still do any of these acts of childhoody, you may in fact be mentally challenged. If so, ask your folks what the deal is or if they are too busy drooling and laughing at a pink bouncy ball (or watching According To Jim on syndication), please see a doctor. With that said, I am majestically segwaying into another list. Why majestically? Because I myself am a royal asshole. Anyway, here’s a short list of things children do to make themselves Lil Denis Learies…
Thursday, May 8, 2008
When I see a quote from that movie in any form on the net, posted by anyone, guy or girl my fucking blood boils. Not a quote from the Bible, Koran, Torah, Declaration of Independence, Gettysburg Address, Constitution, hell even the Communist Manifesto.... no I am forced to read something from a movie which was created for the supreme reason of making money on the fragile hearts of young girls. If you didn't think we were going to hell before, well guess again. Some movies can be categorized by the majority as, masterpieces. Goodfellas, The Third Man, Gone With The Wind, Citizen Kane, Fight Club... the list goes on and on. Sit any girl down to watch any of these movies and more than likely mid-way through she'll get up and walk away. Show her a movie with some guy with a five o'clock shadow going through some sort of romance related hell and a scene where to people make out in the rain and she'll probably cry like a fucking pansy.
Ladies, you don't have to be the stereotypical ditz that loses her shit when the boy gets the girl in these kinds of movies. Anyone who has experienced love knows that for all the wonderful moments that it presents us, there's and equal number of moments that feel like you've been sodomized in half by a horse. Do you want men to treat you equally? Do you want women to treat you equally? Do you want to me looked at as intellectuals? If so, it may be a good idea not to fall to pieces at a pre-dertemined time, put into a movie purposely by a billion dollar industry that feeds on your emotions. If Hollywood only made movies for one whole year, along the lines of the movies nominated for best picture last year, i.e. No Country For Old Men, There Will Be Blood... you'd see Brad Pitt driving around L.A. in a fucking Scion. Doesn't work that way.
I agree that movies, essentially, are made to entertain... but when entertainment becomes a model for you to deal with real-life situations concerning love, or the human heart in general, it's time to stand up and look in the mirror. What do you see? I'll tell you honey... I see a bonifide dipshit. Wake up... and for God's sake put on some make up.
P.S. Ladies, go to Blockbuster this weekend, and just pick a random movie... something you've never heard of. Go online and post a quote from it. Do something unique. Oh and once you're done put on something tight and go out and use what God gave you. For my sake.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
1. Cal Ripken
What the fuck is there to like about this guy??? Because he played alot of baseball games in a row??? Wow what a TEAM player. This guy is the quintessential bad sportsman. Everyone likes to talk about his streak, but no one talks about the games where he was nothing more than a balding, hulking, old, doughy faced drip out there sucking it up for the O's... and hindering the team. "Hmm.. Cal can you play today, you don't look very good, I mean you're bleeding pretty profusely from the eyes, nose, ears, ass and mouth." SURE I CAN!!! Nice record asshole. There is no I in team, unless you played for the O's in the 80's, then there was ... it was called Cal Ripken
Heres and Idea for a sport... We get a bunch of guys and a ball, follow me so far? Ok so we all run around a HUGE field, I mean big, like almost TOO big.. you still with me? Ok so here's the best part, we try to kick said ball into a net! I'M SERIOUS!! We totally kick the fuck out of it and try to get it in the net... oh and we can't use our hands. "Well... we'll anybody guard the net?" OH FUCK YEAH!!! A guy will def be there and get this... HE can use his hands. Dude your mind is so blown right now! "Alright well... what happens if no one scores, or it's tied?" I knew you'd ask that... if that happens we get to totally kick it at the net! "So the game is alot of running and then at the end if its tied we make the game ridiculously easy to end it?" Exactly dude, exactly. "Ok well what if we still cant score, and the other team can't score either?" You ready for this man?? We go home... I swear dude we just end the game. TIE GAME MAN!! EVERYONE WINS!!! "I'm gonna go home and smash my head open with a balpeen hammer." HOLY SHIT BRO!! I WAS DOING THAT ALL MORNING AND THEN I CAME UP WITH SOCCER!!
Take a shower, cut your hair, stop listening to music which was created years ago to rebel against people like yourselves and get a fucking job. If anything, the music of the 60's and 70's was all about expression, and not following the crowd... so how better to celebrate that music than dressing like that guy at the cafe who's always grinning, growing dreadlocks, and saying "man" after everything. Get over yourself douchebag you drive an SUV.
Nothing like the look, or smell of feet. Especially in the summer... when you naturally sweat more. Feet are hideous. Sorry girls, you can paint them, wash them, scrub them, whatever you do to them and their still going to be gross. No one wants to look at them. Guys... what the fuckin hell are you thinking? "Well Johnnyboy, its comfortable." Go fuck yourself that's a load of horseshit. Have you ever seen a guy keeled over of wincing in pain and anguish? I'm sure most of us have at one time or another... Now imagine that guy... you walk over, and ask him if he's alright. Now imagine you hear him reply with, "AHHH MY FEET ARE HOT!!" I know that personally I would probably pee on the guy, or at least break a thumb or two.
I'd like to think that we've come pretty far as a group... yet we're still bewildered by a fuckin lime green plastic plate. You know what I do when someone tosses me a Frisbee? I take it and purposely launch it in the wrong direction. After a couple of tosses like that, whoever is throwing me the stupid thing gets the point and we can move on to wiffle ball. "But dude its fun!" So is jerking off but I don't do it at picnics. Get a new hobby Mongo.
More soon but I'm tired... there's another thing that pisses me off, being tired. I'll talk about that some other time.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
"You're out of your element, Donny."
Top Woman I Be Intimidated To Have Sex With
Jamie Lee Curtis – Now, I know what you Macho Men are thinking, “He just can’t fit his winky in her pinky, uhuh.” No, I’m cool on that front, hell a very early me had a very early boner from watching Ms. Lee Curtis show her tits in Trading Places (still do). While she seemed like a happy hooker in that flick, it’s the real woman that has scared me. My old man gets AARP magazine (not a bad read for bad shits) and JLC “bares all” from the shoulder up and one thing’s for sure: I’m still frightened. Congrats, she still has a great body and all, but looking at those menacing, wincing eyes, that now pepper grey short hair cut, and that stiff upper lip still makes my dick cringe in fear. What would it be like to have sex with Jamie Lee Curtis? I assume there is NO foreplay whatsoever and I’d probably have to be fully clothed (assuming she is disgusted by all men) with only my fly open for penis access. It is a rather militant operation that lasts as long as Ms. Curtis sees fit. During the whole thing she is probably watching the WE Channel or Monster Truck races very loudly and since Gravedigger doesn’t turn me on that much, I’m in big trouble. For the life of me, I better keep this thing up before she clenches together and rips my junk right off. After I receive a few black eyes and JLC angrily gets off, a report card of what I did right and mostly wrong is received, as I lay in the fetal position and I feel like less of a man because of the whole experience. The other reason I Jamie Lee Curtis scares me? I don’t go for dudes (sorry Sigourney Weaver).
Sigourney Sidenote: I have to admit feeling weird for thinking Sigourney Weaver was hot in Ghostbusters considering she turned into what we all thought she was in the first place: a monster.
Top Douchebag I Should Hate, But Secretly Admire
Bret Michaels – Glam Rock to me is the metal equivalent for disco, but I kind of respect the guy. He was the first rocker to bang Pamela Anderson (Tommy Lee and Kid Rock are still fighting over his sloppies). He’s stayed true to his shit form of rock and it’s worked. Bret is an idiot, a douche, a womanizer and doesn’t stray away from that stigma. He’s parlayed it into a reality show and now new generations that were in diapers when Poison was on the charts want to jump his bones. As I look in my closet at my played-out obnoxious Ed Hardy polo, I see a little Bret Michaels in me. Straight men of America can all see Bret in them figuratively. Women of Rock of Love have seen Bret in them literally.
Top 80's Trainwreck Clip That's Fun To Watch
Corey Haim - The clip says it all and yes Lost Boys 2 is in fact coming out straight-to-DVD with both Coreys (although I question Haim's speaking lines after watching this).
Top Person I Enjoy Seeing Get Fat
Al Gore – I’m 25, I’m in relatively good shape, it just comforts me knowing that he’s getting bigger and I’m getting thinner. Moving on…
Top 2 Guys I’d Like See An Enemy Stuck In An Elevator With
David Lee Roth and Flava Flav – Sure, you might be thinking, “I can party with these guys. I like hip-hop and rock, I can have a great time with these guys.” Ugh, that’s what I first thought. Imagine being totally sober in an elevator. In comes David Lee Roth. Awesome, right! Wrong. I love DLR as much as any fan of Van Halen, but think about how obnoxious he’d be. Highsteping and kicking like a Rockette, all the while making incomprehensible scat noises (bippy-bop!) and such. He’s wasted with a bottle of something really expensive, doesn’t want to share that bottle, and tells you he is the reason Van Halen is successful again (foreshadowing yet another break-up). Then when things couldn’t get any worse on this excruciating elevator of death, in walks Flava Flav. Yelling and screaming and not making any sense, his gigantic clock (and maybe glock as well) make the ride more claustrophobic than Diamond Dave’s highstepping ever was. So Flav’s yelling and Dave making mocking kissy lips with a victim sandwiched in between...I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy (who am I kidding, I would wish much worse). Bippy-boop, indeed.
Top Story We Need To Get Over Forever
Yo Roids! Watching Barry Bonds cheat his way past Hank Aaron’s record and see his massive head (dome, not just ego) inflate grotestly is disgusting. Did Roger Clemens do it? His stats reached an all-time peak after the Red Sox stint, coincidentally when he is being accused are being of enhancing performance. While I thought he was a bad-ass throwing a broken bat at fumanchu wearing Mike Piazza (the Pizza-Man was always a little light on his feet anyway), there was some roid-raging going on there. The debate remains…should they be in the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown? I say without a doubt, absolutely 100%. I think half of Roger Clemens should be there for real reasons, while Barry Bonds should get his own wing, possibly in a bathroom, utility closet, or how about just a hole (think Silence of the Lambs-ish). Throw Cancesco (whose name Spellcheck wanted to correct to “cancers”, how fitting) in there, Sosa, hell even Palmeiro. Why, you ask? I graduated the eighth grade and high school along with five and a half years of college…barely. One of my teachers senior year of high school wrote: “Close Call” (asshole Mr. Wright). In grammar school, I made first and later second honors six years in a row. Alright, so I hit puberty and did nothing for the next six years academic wise. Did my father praise me? No, I got the “you barely made it so we don’t care about your previous accomplishments.” That’s how it should be in baseball. While the halls of academia have honored me with a piece of paper, my family did not let me forget how I screwed up in the past. That’s what life is: a series of trials and errors. Create the Bonds Wing in Cooperstown so we all have a place to piss freely and throw our garbage. Hatredy Sidenote: Fuck Barry Bonds.
Top Guy To Really Overachieve With Women (aka the Lyle Lovitt 2008 Award)
Jordan Bratman (the guy who knocked up Christina Aguilera) – He impregnated one of the hottest, actually talented pop stars and he as neck flab! He’s worse-looking and in worse shape than me. Good for him. Thanks for the hope, Brat Man.
Top Casting for a Crazy Homeless Guy
Jerry Lewis (Law and Order) - From Jerry’s Kids to Jerry’s, uh, Shit. “Got any spare change, glaven.” And he was a murder suspect too! Ah, the hilarity. A small part of me would find it hilarious if it were real too. Somewhere in heaven Dean Martin is laughing. Ain’t that a kick in the head.
Top (Former) Fat Guy That I Gave Up Hating
Jared from Subway – It was one of the first “healthy” aimed commercials for fast food and he was (still is) all over their marketing. I grew tired of him. Then South Park parodied him. That was six years ago. His real ads have been running for nearly 10 YEARS. I got my license, lost my virginity, graduated high school, graduated college, saw a few deaths, saw a few births, moved, and had a few jobs all the while this guy has stayed true to his diet and hocked these fucking subs on us. I give up, keep pimping out those hoagies Jared.
Top Disturbing Thing I’d Like To Do
Punch a really, really hot girl in the face – Think of the scenario, guys. You’re drunk. You’re frisky. You’re courageous. You decide to spit game at a girl that’s way out of your league. Then she rejects you, cold. Not even the old “I have to catch up with my friends” bit. Just plain rude to you. Your friends saw the whole thing. Your confidence is shattered. It ruins your night (until the next drink). Picture the same scenario: rejected. Let’s make it worse, her mini-van shaped friend laughs in your face too. That’s okay guy, you’ve got the power of the punch! She laughs at you, so you deck her square in her face. Your buddy then throws his drink in the fat friend’s face. Then security escorts them out in a huff. You win. Perfect. Actually, I am firmly against violence against women, so let’s just have a dog pounce them instead. Oh and let’s stop making those slutty kissy faces!!!
So I get myself an account and begin to use the site. There's not much to say about it ... other than the fact that I had been completely lied to. Chock full O Simpsons episodes? Try 3, and they all sucked. Every movie I could think of?? More like 50 and the best one that I could find on the list was "Very Bad Things", which isn't a very good movie. "Dude they have like everything on there, its fuckin awesome, they have alot of shit that you can't find anywhere else." <--- Complete Bullshit. Every show I searched came up with nada. If you're a fan of obscure, hard to find and truly hilarious or for that matter, awesome drama/suspense, Hulu... is not where you want to try to find it. I've found a ton of stuff on Youtube, and three lousy episodes of the Simpsons and a thousand clips from SNL, heres the kicker folks; I don't watch SNL. Great.
I realized shortly afterwards why Phil loved(s) this site so much; because HE found out about it before his group of friends did. That reason alone will fuel his love for it until eventually a brightly colored ball rolls by his window and he decides to chase it. The Hulu brass could fuck his dog with a plunger, break Phil's leg and then force him to fellate a corpse and he'd still think it was "the shit" because HE found out about it before I did, and the site was in its infancy when he did. Now I realize that the site is new, and that its going to take time before more people upload their shit onto it (or however it works) and make it decent, but honestly folks I'm not willing to wait. I have Youtube, I have Limewire, hell I even have netflix... so I don't have to be a Huluboy. Aside from those reasons now I have another reason to hate it.... Phil loves it. That's all I needed.
Probably my second favorite SNL commerical ever (right behind Crystal Clear Gravy). Well Done, Hulu.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
So lets go out. Alright first off, my friends and I are not the kind of drinkers where we can have a couple to feel loose and laugh the night away. We have a set way of doing things. Pretty much boils down to this... shower, put on nice clothes, do the hair, brush the teeth, throw on cologne and head out to find something with a vagina that sees this neatly wrapped package and decides she wants to unwrap it and ruin all the hard work. So we hit the bar, inevitably its too loud to speak at a normal tone so there is alot of yelling. Throw a fiver on the bar and suck down a beer. Alright the hunt is on. Now I'm not going to go through the whole play by play of a night out on the town, but maybe some of you guys reading this will agree with this next break down of the night... in three parts.. 1. Drink and try to meet girls... 2.(A) Get lucky and meet a girl, drink with her and either strike out or hit a homerun, (B) Don't meet anyone, and decide to get shithoused drunk to the point of blacking out... 3. Crashing.
It goes to say that not everyone in the group agrees on the spot so there is always someone at least peeved to be there in the first place. (that's usually me) At one point in the night everyone does a shot together, oh what fun! Then whoever the cheap one is, asks who has the round covered. Normal people buy rounds, we don't. So the bartender has to wait there as we all scuttle through our wallets to try to find the right amount, sort of like a hobo trying to score a free burger at McD's... hoping that eventually the person behind the counter will say, "ahh just take it." Gotta love this little nugget of the male mind during a night on the town. We will buy any girl we have JUST met with tits and pretty eyes anything she wants, but buying a drink for guys you've laughed, cried and grown up with... fuck that shit. Sometimes you do it, and figure that covers you until the end of the year, but most of the time its every man for themselves. Its a fucking jungle out there, and its a jungle full of groups of guys doing the SAME FUCKING THING YOU'RE DOING!!!! I'm amazed anyone gets laid these days. Ever notice that theres ALWAYS more dudes than chicks at a bar? Don't get it twisted lads... girls maybe insane but they ain't stupid. So lets move on... the drinking is in full swing and people are making moves. The less successful hunters hang by the bar, the "winners" are chatting up their catches and the environment hasn't gotten any more inviting... in fact its getting old.
Now someone wants to leave... and if everything is aligned perfectly in the cosmos, the rest of the group concurs. So you leave, and head to another bar. A fresh scene and guess what this brand new canvas is full of? Groups of guys getting drunk and trying to get laid. Sometimes you recognize them from the bar you just came from. Bars in the United States, and all over the world really are around for two reasons... to get drunk and to try to find someone to fuck. If you have a girlfriend, wife ... whatever you don't take her to the bar to get hammered to fuck her, you can do that sober. People take their significant others to bars to have fun but these people make me sick. You're just taking up space... buy a bottle of wine, throw on a movie and get the hell away from the bar, I'm on the job here, you're just visiting. Lets say its getting late in the night and now some of the boyos are getting hungry, tired or far too drunk. What the hell is "too drunk"?? Drunk is drunk. It would be like if you said in conversation... "boy I really miss my old dog but he is wayyyy too dead." From now on if you're feeling nauseated or like you're at the point of passing out just say, "I'm drunk"... we'll all get the point. The guys who say they're "really drunk" are the guys who can tell you every fucking drink they had the next day.
If you got lucky, well then congratulations but more likely than not, you didn't. Its like baseball... if you hit the ball three out of ten times you're a three hundred hitter and you can get your ass into the hall of fame. If you get laid once every couple of months hitting the bars, well shit you deserve to have your number retired. So at the end of the night when you're home, alone, ears still ringing from all the shitty music you had to listen to that you don't like in the first place, head spinning from mixing liquor and throat sore from endless cigarettes, and well... in the same place you started, but a little broker and just as horny... welcome to being a young male adult in the U.S. The game is just as difficult now as it ever was and it's never going to get any easier. So why do we do this to ourselves over and over again? Because my friends... well... I don't know. Is it fun? Sure. Is meeting girls a thrill? Sure. Do you think it was everything you thought it was going to be a few hours earlier when you were making plans for the big night? No. Don't get discouraged though, there's always next weekend.