The Olympics... Give Me a %@%$!#& Break

Alright the Olympics are over, and fat-assed house wives from the mid-west and the elderly are crying in their porridge. I for one, am happy. The Olympics are the biggest, most hyped-up bullshit collection of sporting events around today. Does anyone really care? Maybe Jamaicans and Estonians but as Americans, we have entertaining sports to watch. Most Americans who watched the Olympics watched the U.S. basketball team and Michael Phelps... do you know who those Americans were?? Answer : American basketball fans and people who enjoy watching a good freakshow. Michael Phelps is a double jointed, stubby legged, calorie slurping troglodyte who resembles Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel from the Simpsons. Retard strength at its finest. Who knows, maybe the clown was born in Atlantis.
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.

No Hatred Tonight... G'bye To a Great Yankee

Two R.I.P posts on a blog created for laughs seems a bit much. Sorry kids, Jondrama, Phil and I are Yankee fans. Adios Bobby Murcer.

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

A Few Reasons Why I'm Better Than You

I've decided to put down a few of the reasons why I am superior to you, dear reader. I could go on for volumes on the topic but I simply do not have the time. So here are a few...

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."

2. Intelligence
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.

He's Screaming Up at Us

I really can't do George Carlin any more justice than Jon, or any other of the dozens of brilliant writers who have expressed their love and admiration for the man since he passed. So instead I'm just going to tell you what the man meant to me.

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

The Funniest Grandpa I Ever Knew

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…


Thinking Wilde

"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.

Saying Goodbye To the King... R.I.P George Carlin

The world of bitching lost it's greatest ambassador today. Rest In Peace, George Carlin. From rants ranging from tongue-in-cheek to true on hate... we are going to miss his gruff voice, his ratty goatee, and his stance on well, everything. JonDrama is planning a tribute post in the man's honor and I am sure that it will not disappoint, but I felt it proper, that this blog should put up a post on the date of his passing. Thanks for the years of hilarity, the way he made us think about things we took as fact and the escape from social bullshit that he offered. I'd say, "he's with God now", but he'd probably call me a schmuck for it. Anyway... see you in the good land Irishman.

Hatredy Sports: A Single, A Double, and a Walk-off Mustache

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.

A Declaration Of Independence

In CONGRESS, June 13, 2008

The unanimous Declaration of Independence from the Blog of Hatredy

When in the course of human events it becomes painfully clear that the founder of a blog has forsaken its' existence and left its' contributors to piss blindly into the wind it becomes self evident that it is altogether fitting and proper that the contributors should dissolve all allegiance to said blog and its' tyrannical creator. Phil R. Jacobs has become an abomination to the world of blogging. It has been thusly left to myself and my colleague Jonathan A. Dramathan to rear this bastard-child into a productive beacon of hope for all those who hate. In the beginning our creator posted regularly, and with much studious hilarity. In recent times, the posts have been few and when they do appear they bring much shame to the Blog of Hatredy. Hulu Phil? C'mon. We are told half-truths of busy days toiling for mere dollars and tails of a dog which has become a behemoth of hell which plagues our nights out with the Tyrant, Phil. We are told of female troubles. We are told of personal health issues. We are told of others whom just recently have returned to the fold with false-promises of powder-snow dreams. We have been replaced with false idols and have suffered through all slings and arrows without a word. Today June, 13 2008, Jonathan A. Dramathan and John N. Melonballs have decided to pledge to ourselves our sacred honor as writers of Hatredy and hereby as of this day dissolve all allegiance to the Blog and its' creator, which govern all matters of tact, prudence and language. From here out as contributors we shall post freely what we truly feel, yet were unable to properly convey, due to our newly destroyed ties to the original creator. As of this day, Hatredy will no longer exist an Shitshow Blog is created. In name we are to remain hatredy, but in spirit, Shitshow shall reign forever. We are to no longer be be-littled, we are to no longer be subject to talking about Phil's hair, nor shall we stand for the slander of our Sacred crew of 4B, by the names and petty anecdotes of outsiders. We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created somewhat-equal, but it is our sacred right, to rebel against tyrants in the name of free literary expression.

John N. Melonballs

Jonathan A. Dramathan

June 13 2008

This One Might Piss Some People Off

Here we go folks... another list. Tough titty, deal with it

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.

Lazy Sunday Blogging

Fuck effort. For the record, I do put some into this, but I'm hungover today. My head hurts. My stomach is growling (I don't know if it wants food or wants to reject it). I'm pretty sure I made an ass out of myself last night (as my late night phone log would dictate). Yet the world is at my fingertips. It's Sunday. I might sleep all day. I might buy an X Box 360. I might visit Grandma. I might buy Grandma an X Box 360 and take a nap. Who knows? There's a lot to do today, so I don't have time to type. Instead, I'll use this as a forum to post old Photochopped (I don't want to get sued by Adobe) images that have been sitting around for awhile.....


RuddBate
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.