It's So Cold In The D

Tubby Owned By Hot Sister

Mr. Bill's Lament

"Ghost Riding The Whip" Officially Enters Mainstream

I never thought I'd see a group of suburban teenagers in a decent neighborhood "ghost riding the whip" at five-thirty in the evening, but that's exactly what I saw yesterday. It was one of those Honda Elements too, those real boxy jobs. Not my kind of car, but still, it was new and certainly not something a responsible person would ghost ride.

But I won't lie to you. Those boys ghost rode the hell out of that whip. There were four of these dudes, all about sixteen or seventeen years old. Straight ghostin'. They kept jumping in and out of the moving car, bumping that E-40 jam we all love so much, doing some crazy ass dance shit. There was even a little curly-haired one who did a crip dance on the hood, had me laughing pretty good. Reckless youth, beautiful youth. We were ghost riders once... and young.

I'll tell you, I was certain one of the four teenagers would be seriously hurt, but they all got away unscathed and basically came out of the whole affair looking cool as hell. I guess they dodged a bullet this time. But even if these guys happen to be remarkably talented at ghost riding the whip, the dangers of a pedestrian being hurt are simply too great to screw around with this sort of thing.

It was pretty awesome, though.

This is why it's dangerous

This is why it's cool

Hillary Clinton "Called Out" By Sinbad

Hillary Clinton has been called to task by none other than Sinbad. This is not going away, Senator Clinton. Here's an excerpt from the New York Times:

The Clinton campaign says Senator Hillary Clinton may have “misspoke” recently when she said she had to evade sniper fire when she was visiting Bosnia in 1996 as first lady.

She has been using the episode as an example of her foreign policy bona fides.
“I certainly do remember that trip to Bosnia, and as Togo said, there was a saying around the White House that if a place was too small, too poor, or too dangerous, the president couldn’t go, so send the First Lady,” she said last week. “That’s where we went. I remember landing under sniper fire. There was supposed to be some kind of a greeting ceremony at the airport, but instead we just ran with our heads down to get into the vehicles to get to our base.”

But her account has been challenged, first by Sinbad, the comedian, who traveled with her, and then by news organizations, most notably the Washington Post, which awarded her four “Pinnochios” which it gives for major “whoppers.”

read the rest of article here

I think Hillary should just hand it over to Obama at this point. Sinbad has called her out.

A Hero, Interrupted

When I first came across this news item, it was an uplifting human interest story. This is what I read:

Boy Falls Through Ice; Dog Gets Help
POSTED: 3:29 pm EDT March 23, 2008
NOVI, Mich. -- A 13-year-old boy has his dog to thank for his rescue after falling through thin ice into the frigid waters of a pond in Novi.
According to Novi police, the boy and his dog were walking in the area of Haggerty Road and Nine Mile Road when both fell into the water.
The dog was able to escape, police said, and make its way back to the house and alert adults.
A dive team from the Marine Division of the Oakland County Sheriff's Office was able to rescue the boy.
They estimate the boy spent at least a half-hour in the water.
He was taken to Botsford Hospital in Farmington Hills and later transferred to Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak.

That's a hell of a dog, right? Reminds me of the song "Old Shep" as sung by Jimmy Dean. Makes you feel all warm inside. Man's best friend, indeed.

Then came the update a few hours later...

Boy Dies After Fall Through Ice
POSTED: 3:29 pm EDT March 23, 2008
UPDATED: 10:27 pm EDT March 23, 2008
NOVI, Mich. -- A 13-year-old Westland boy died Sunday after falling through thin ice into the frigid waters of Village Oaks Lake in Novi, despite efforts made by his dog to help rescue him.
According to Novi police, the boy was walking his dog across lake in the area of Meadowbrook Road and 10 Mile Road.
Both the boy and his dog fell through the ice and into the water, but the dog was able to escape and make its way back to the house and alert adults, police said.

A dive team from the Marine Division of the Oakland County Sheriff's Office recovered the boy's body at around 2:04 p.m.
He was pronounced dead at 6:22 p.m. at William Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak.

Well shit. If you're still questioning whether or not life sucks, look no further than this news item. A young boy is dead, parents are in mourning, and a dog's heroism is certain to be overlooked. It's a cold night in Michigan, friends.

read news item

Caitlin Hill

This is Caitlin Hill of Australia, I guess she's somewhat of a YouTube celebrity. This is her reaction to the notorious 2 Girls 1 Cup video. She's pretty adorable, don't you think? My hat's off to whoever's hittin' it out in The World. If I were the man I was ten years ago, I'd take a flame thrower to them drawls. I'd also let my friends smell my finger afterward.

We were hellions, weren't we? Rowdy, randy, rambunctious as hell... but home when the streetlights came on. We were good kids.

How To Avoid Crying At Work

We've all seen the person who loses control of her emotions and breaks down crying at work, haven't we? Well here's a great article about how to keep yourself from becoming that person. It's really for those who have yet to learn that there's simply no crying in baseball. That's a hard lesson for many women who have grown accustomed to communicating on a strictly emotional level after years of manipulating men that way. Don't fucking act like that's sexist, either. Just for once let's drop the charade, shall we? There are no secrets here. By and large it's women doing this shit, and you know it. The only reason you're trying to act offended is to make yourself look good by making me look bad. I know the score. Save it for the Rotary Club. What a bunch of assholes.

****

Anyway, here's your "how to avoid crying at work" list:

1. Focus your breathing. Take deep breaths, blah blah blah. The argument is that if you're concentrating on breathing you'll stop concentrating on crying.
2. Take a step back. Give yourself a cooling off period.
3. Cauterize your tear ducts. Hardy fucking har. They thought this was cute, I guess.
4. Distract yourself with pain. This is some crazy shit. Bitch is trying to tell you to bite the inside of your cheek or scratch your palm as deeply as you can to get your mind off what's bothering you emotionally. Sounds like some janky ass advice to me, but what do I know? I don't have this problem.
5. Use props. Play with a pen or a pad of paper. Fiddle with stuff. No shit?
6. Let yourself get angry. This is why many women act like bitches at work. They're channeling their emotions in the direction of anger by way of despair. They actually feel like crying. Next time you're getting bitched out by one of these chickenheads, just keep on the offensive. She'll eventually start crying, and then you win.
7. Try behavioral modification. This is a loaded one. It's basically saying "physician, heal thyself." Way to slip the hardest one in the middle, lady.
8. Do it for somebody else. Do it for the kids.
9. Forge ahead. Just keep going when you feel that lump in your throat. Maybe it'll go away. You never know. Maybe you'll just do that weird stuttering-breathing thing people do when they cry.
10. Just ignore it. This is the part where she's trying to act all casual while she's breaking down and her facial muscles start twitching and shit. It's weird when this happens, but there's something I find uncomfortably funny about it, too. Can't ignore it-- you're crying, bitch.
11. Deflect with a white lie. Crap like "no, I just have something in my eye," or "do your allergies give you trouble this time of year, too?" If you ask me, this kind of stuff doesn't fool anyone and just adds to the cryer's humiliation.
12. Be honest and direct. This directly contradicts Rule 11, but since when do women make a lick of goddamn sense?

You know, the author really could have condensed this into a much shorter list. Something like this:

1. Stop being such a pussy.

A Small Amount of Common Sense Could Have Avoided This Tragedy

Did you hear about the guy who was recently sentenced to 4 to 5 years in prison because he gave a loaded gun to his suicidal friend in order to "call her bluff?" Of course you didn't. You clowns never read anything. I guess the suicidal friend was talking a whole lot of shit about how she was going to end her life and this prick handed her a 9mm Beretta and told her to prove it.

She said, "I'm going to do it, and you're going to watch," then killed herself right in front of him. He says he was "stunned."

They found him guilty of involuntary manslaughter, friends. 4 to 5 in the fuckin' clink. I'm no lawyer, but it doesn't seem right to me. The guy was certainly guilty of being an asshole, but manslaughter? I don't think so... and thank heavens being an asshole isn't a hanging crime.

In the final analysis, this woman killed herself. The guy was no doubt being a huge prick and offered her no convincing reason to stay in The World of the living, but is it fair to say he caused her death? I don't think it is. We do have free will, don't we? If we don't, I didn't get the memo. Somebody forgot to tell me. We still have choices in this World after all, you fucking cocksuckers.

Speaking of choices, you know how I think it would have been way cooler? If when she was feeling down and depressed as hell and this bastard started in with his macho bullshit...

"Empty threats, empty threats! That's all I'm hearing..."

"You have no idea the way I'm feeling. No one would even miss me. I swear to God I'll do it!"

"Oh you'll do it? You'll do it? We ridin' dirty now? We ridin' dirty? I don't believe you. Show me we ridin' dirty."

He hands her the loaded Beretta. She takes it with trembling hands. She doesn't know what ridin' dirty means, but she is determined to show him.

"I'm going to do it, and you're going to watch" is all she can muster. With a deep breath, she raises the gun to her temple.

"You ain't got the balls. You can't do anything right. You just talk a big--"

In the space of a second, her demeanor changes. She suddenly flicks the weapon away from her head and turns it on the man. He shuts the fuck up real fast.

"Motherfucker, this is MY time. You need to sit your monkey ass the fuck down. If what you really want to see is The Bitch, I can show you The Bitch. Is that what you want to see?

He struggles to stay strong, to continue to get in her head, to hold on to his shitty pimp's dignity. He tries to hide his fear with false bravado.

"Yeah. Yeah, show me The Bitch."

BLAM!

The hot round splits his stupid head like a melon. Blood splashes the walls. He dies fast and easy, quick and without ceremony, and no one will ever hear his stupid voice again.

"How you like me now? How you like The Bitch?! Never test me, motherfucker. Never, never test me."

**So upon reading the news article more closely, I see that when the guy first handed her the gun, the weapon misfired. He then reloaded with fresh ammo and handed her the pistol a second time! So my scenario of her turning the gun on him would have backfired on her big time, I guess. Oh well, get 'em next time, tiger.

But Christ! His story about thinking she was bluffing was pure shit, this is one evil bastard. He's lucky he only got four years. And it turns out the gun was her father's Beretta that the old man had sold to the prick years earlier. So this sick bastard gave her her father's gun to shoot herself with because he probably wanted her to do it and he wanted to watch and he wanted to fuck with her head. Boy oh boy, how this World is a rotten place. And my reading comprehension skills are not so good.

But you need to worry about yourself, motherfucker. Don't worry about my reading comprehension skills.

Stephen W. Tawking Shit

The Creeping Slurry

My old pal Wil Wheaton turned me on to this short story called "Jack Baby" by comic book writer Warren Ellis. Ellis has a resume as long as my johnson, but I'm most impressed with the fact that he writes a weekly column for the Suicide Girls. I told Wheaton as much, and he just gave me that familiar roll of his eyes followed by a "nigga, you crazy." Fuckin' Wheaton. I love that son of a bitch and I'd follow him straight into hell.

It's amazing how economical Ellis is with his prose. He creates a fantastically dense setting in a paltry 200 words. His talent is staggering. Basically, it makes me want to put a shotgun in my mouth-- but only after going on a massive killing spree to destroy everyone in The World but Wheaton and Warren Ellis. I guess in that situation I'd also let each of those guys pick four loved ones who I'd also allow to live. I wouldn't want those guys to have any hard feelings.

****

"Jack Baby"

By Warren Ellis

I dipped the old jar down into the creeping slurry and scooped a pint of shit-water out of the Thames, down where the sewers meet the river. It's come to this, I said to no-one: making jenkem rather than seeing the Jack Baby.

Seal up the jar, watch it ferment for long sleepless days, and then inhale the gas off the top. Jenkem: ghetto drugs. An hour of laying like a corpse and seeing dead things instead of the orgasm-jerking and spacewalk day of a Jack high. But I couldn't afford Jack, and I didn't want to think about the Jack Baby.

Jack was a bastard brew of neurotransmitters and genetic plug-ins, the black market product of universities that wanted to keep the power on. Addictive and deep-tissue-persistent enough that, like crack before it, Jack babies were born. But they weren't just thin and sickly. Jack was bound into their genetic structure. Narcotophores pulsed under their grey skins, tiny little Jack labs.

The things we choose to care about. Not getting clean, but huffing shit-gas instead of seeing her.

Squatting under the jagged stump of the bridge, I twisted the jar shut, willing the muck inside to do its stinking magic. Dreading the sleepless days of waiting, where I knew I'd see nothing but my grown-up Jack Baby, letting men make her sweat so they could lick the Jack from her pores.

The things we choose to care about: I could live with her being a whore, but I couldn't stand her being someone else's fix.

Just A Reminder

This motherfucker's shit don't stink.

Double Order of Suicide Girls

In my opinion, some of the sexiest ladies around are those Suicide Girls. You know the ones. Those pale and tattooed creatures, those semi-gothic hipsters with the galaxy of piercings and the fishnet drawls.

They really are a hell of a sight, aren't they?

I ran into four of these broads the other night. Two of them were lesbians with short choppy hair, the third was a 6'2" amazon version of Charlize, and the fourth had yellow eyes that were framed by horn-rimmed glasses, her hair dyed jet black with bangs. Might sound pretty weird, but they had it goin' on, my friend. Goin' on. Like the black gentleman at the mall said, "You ain't all that, Miss Thing!" Only they were all that... and a bag of potato chips. Man alive, they were hot.

Part of what I find appealing about these girls is their look, how they brazenly defy convention. This makes me think they might be easy lays. Like maybe it's not unlikely for them to throw caution to the wind and have random kinky sex with some strange guy(me) just to stick it to the square world.

But that alone doesn't do it for me. No, sir. If a girl is simply easy, or "loose," I'm usually repulsed by her dirtyness, like I just know she has a disease or something. But with these Suicide Girl types, in spite of their punkyness or trashyness or whatever you want to call it, they seem really clean to me. They put so much work into their appearance, it's clear grooming and good hygiene are things they take seriously. I don't know, maybe it's weird, but they just seem really clean to me. They always have that porcelain skin, too.

I don't know about you, but if I were at a drive-thru window ordering Suicide Girls, I'd be like Gary Busey ordering a meatball sandwich and say, "Gimme two. You hear me? Two."

**The above photo is by Mike Pecci

Fifty-Fifty

Right now I'm about as pissed as this Chinese kid in the picture. I hate it when people say the chances of something(anything) happening are "about fifty-fifty." It upsets me to the point where I see red. Fifty-fifty is the biggest non-answer there is, a total cop out. It basically means maybe it'll happen, maybe it won't. Well thanks a lot, asshole. Very helpful.

It takes a real bet-hedging bastard to say something like that. I'd rather them say nothing at all. Take a position, fucko.

Obviously the reason they say it is so they can claim to be right no matter the outcome. People are so petty, aren't they? So petty and so transparent. And always having to be right. Fuck you all, you wretched miserable bastards.

What Did You Think It Was, Jonathan?

Gather 'round, children. Gather 'round for a Christmas story sure to warm the cockles of the heart. This is the story of Little Jonathan, the boy who wanted an Xbox 360 for Christmas, but instead got owned by his parents on this holiest of days.

The humiliation the boy feels is palpable. This is something young Jonathan will never forget. Especially haunting is the queer-sounding older brother, who also seems to be the camera operator. His taunts will surely be seared into memory for poor Jonathan.

I just know that years in the future, on one Christmas Yet To Come, Little Jonathan will go for a ride through town with a sawed-off .410 on his lap, and The World will pay for this transgression. Later, when they ask him why he did it, he'll reply: "sir, I guess there's just a meanness in this World."

Indeed, Jonathan. Indeed. People are shit.

For more information about Little Jonathan, click here

Helen Keller, circa 1888

Looking at this picture that recently surfaced of Helen Keller with her teacher, I'm realizing I would totally bang the shit out of her teacher if I lived back then. The teacher's name was Anne Sullivan, but I'm sure you knew that already, right asshole?

I'd be like dude in ROB ROY. I'd be all, "think of yourself the scabbard, Ms. Sullivan, and I the sword," and then I'd proceed to do what a man does to a woman. I could get more graphic here and I'm sure a lot of you sickos would like that, but we have to maintain at least a modicum of professionalism, cocksuckers. Sorry to disappoint, but you can take your perversions to some other blog if you don't like it. I don't want to sully these pages with that kind of stuff.

Does make you wonder what kind of guys actually ended up scoring with old Helen Keller back in the day, doesn't it? Hell, it could be anyone, what with her condition: a midget, a cowboy, an Indian chief?

Some people say Helen Keller was a lesbian, that she liked the ladies. I couldn't say I'd blame her if she did. I like 'em too. It is strange to imagine Helen Keller getting orally serviced by Anne Sullivan, though. Perhaps Anne also taught her the pleasures of a woman. I like to think she did. Don't think there weren't women who behaved like whores back then, just because this was a hundred years ago. That shit went on, believe me. If only you knew how much that shit went on.

Real Fight Stories

Fuck the haters, there are actually some good self-defense pointers in the hand-to-hand combat forum at fightauthority.com. Here is where some of the toughest guys on the net regale us with Real Fight Stories. The bone-breaking excitement is simply too intense for some readers. Be warned.

Below are three favorite excerpts from the forum, selections from posters: dan2kowalski, nbotary and ninja_claws. My commentary is in red.

Post: dan2kowalski:
Well iam 21 and havent been in a fight since i was about 17 because after taht i got into FC Amateur Kickboxing[this is how he marks time. BFCAK and AFCAK]. So i was 17 picking up one of my friends when this drunk kid who i kinda knew [read: this kid who was more popular than me] hit my window and started saying shit... i was gonna getting out of the car when, The guys whos house it was said to just leave and held the other kid back[read: the aggressor was a welcomed guest, dan2kowalski was treated like a punk] I was pissed because i worked my ass off for that car adn i aint gonna have some lil fuck screw with it. So a day or 2 later [a day or 2 of dan2kowalski thinking about what he should have done to the bully...] teh kid was like yo man sorry about that i was like fuck u i wanna fight u in school so i get a vacation and see u get your asskicked. (This is after like 2 years of just karate)He showed up at my work i told him i get out at 6 we went around back each with 1 friend [their chosen Seconds] he said he didnt wanna fight [the more popular kid was being magnanimous] so then i punched him in the mouth then he came towards me through a kick at his stomach, which brought his hands down leaving him unguarded then punched himin the mouth with a jab he started pleeding then he tried to get behind me so i put him in a headlock adn flipped him on the ground. I then let him get up and he ended up getting behin me against the car so i back fisted him then he put me in some wrestling move were i couldnt breathe and asked me to tap out so i did [but only since he asked politely] he won but his lip was all bleeding and shit then we hugged and that was it.> [read: dan2kowalski lost the fight, but he tells the story like he won]

Post: nbotary:
Well, there was this one time at band camp...

I've been fortunate in that I haven't had to actually use anything I've learned although this is the closest I've been to offering anyone some free dental work since learning martial arts...

I had just graduated college the day before and my girlfriend (now wife) and I took off back to her school for her graduation the next day. After she graduated, we went out and were at a party with a bunch of her friends and some people that I vaguely knew. My best friend at the time attended the same school she did and would've been at the same party, but he wasn't there that evening - otherwise this would be a hell of a lot more interesting!! [foreshadowing?] Anyway, I think I knew 2-3 people there - at best - and I really barely knew them to begin with. I had seen some punk ass earlier that night who had been checking out my girlfriend[and his girlfriend wasn't asking for it or anything]. Even though he was giving me shitty looks, I let it go. My girlfriend said that she wanted to say goodbye to a freind of hers and then she wanted to bail from the party. I told her I would wait in the front of the house and she went to talk with her friend. As she was coming back so we could leave, I heard her start yelling and cussing someone out. Needless to say, I hauled ass and bull dozed some people to get to her. When I got there, there was the little punk ass. I asked her what had happened and she said that he had grabbed her ass [there is more to this story-- perhaps Punk Ass fucked nbotary's girl in the past-- there is more to this story, mark my words]. That was it - it was go time. I got up in his face and asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing. All of a sudden it got REAL quiet and he looked like he was about to start some shit. I had already been in Jiu Jitsu for about 5 months and I took a quick assessment of my situation - I was pretty much alone. However, I had a great advantage - his back was against a wall, no shoes, no shirt, drunk as shit and not too cool. I had a bee-line shot for his throat had I chose to take it, as well as a nice set-up for a groin shot and a slam to the floor. I was about to flip out on this kid when she and her friend grabbed me and pulled me into a spare room, separating me from him [read: you should have seen all the brutal things nbotary almost did to defeat his opponent, but he didn't end up doing shit]. Her friend went back out and told the guy what he was up against [LOL!] . Needless to say, when we walked back outside, the little shit came up and apologized profusely to me. I told him to apologize to her first and then I would deal with him. After she ripped him a new asshole, I told him if I ever saw him again nobody would stop me from fucking him up.
I found out a couple of days later that the little punk ass had three guys ready to jump me that night if I had started anything until her friend had told them that I was in Jiu Jitsu. He didn't tell them what belt I was or how long I had been doing it, but apparently it was enough to scare the shit out of all four of them!! :lol: :lol: :lol:>

Post: ninja_claws:
wow, those stories are awsome, ive got aalotover 40 worth talkin about lol, but the one that deserves it the most was funny as hell
their was this dude in the folk, among others ive foughtwho wanted to make a name of himselfm and i was about to go in a play for my skewl as a ninja, and screw it up because i was just, idk, mischiviouse, and because of people knowing i did it, and the folk, ill call him ticki ticki, cause he looked like a damn zoo loobig muscles, no brains, pushed me, and grabbed himself and goes " nigga bust me" and being mystupid self, i went, " are u fuckin stupid, u think i bought this uniform from walmart, No!! im the real deal bitch" yea i used to have a bit of an ego i admitanywho, i think i took somn offence to that comment, so i got into my position, water, lol so i looked drunked, and hes like" wtf nigga, u kiddin man" and im like "bitch ur wasting my fuckin time"again he took offence, so he got in a false boxing position, u know, hittin with ur right first, and swingin no jabs, tried to hit me, and i grabbed that fists, flowed with it for a quick sec, then flipped his ass over, it was pretty wicked, then he got up, and the principle ws commin, so i wanted to make it fasted , so i parted my fingers and threw them into his throut holding him, the iwth a quick palm to his face knocking him back, then a kinda sloppy, i thought, backkick to the head, he stayed down, and i played like a ninja and dished and decided against screwen up the play, because a ninja cant dodge a bullit, so i wassnt gonna take any chances> [That is all]

Certain Smells

I'll let you clowns in on a little tip. If you're looking to score with the ladies, you have to stimulate her senses. You can't expect to sweep her off her feet with a cool one-liner, contrary to what most of you ridiculous assholes probably think. Studies have shown that certain smells can be very powerful sexual triggers. For instance, the scent of cucumber mixed with the scent of Good & Plenty candy proved to be a huge aphrodisiac for women. There's something about the mixture of those two aromas that makes women horny and uninhibited, which is how men like them to be.

But don't take my word for it, since I know you'll want proof anyway. Here's the Google results for "Good & Plenty" cucumber

And yes, I put this one to the test myself. And yes, it was a resounding success. I'll go ahead and also tell you that I could have been even more successful, but I'm deathly afraid of herpes and I've made it this far in life without being burned, so I'm thinking my number may be up and have therefore been extra cautious. Too cautious.

But I did buy myself some soap from Bath & Body Works called "freshwater cucumber" and applied it generously while washing my hands-- working it to a nice lather to really let the smell soak in. I did this every time I washed my hands throughout the day (which was a lot). I also bought three boxes of Good & Plenty, and made it a point to always keep a handful in my pocket so I could munch on them as I went about my normal daily routine out in The World.

Sure enough, not even two o' clock in the afternoon, some older woman who looked like she definitely had herpes literally threw herself all over me, getting all up in my grill and shit, trying to ask me about Barack Obama and if I knew he smoked cigarettes. I could have had this woman. Easily. The only reason I didn't is because it would have been what's called a Fool's Mate in chess. It's a victory that speaks more of your opponent's inexperience than it does of your own mastery. Plus she had herpes.

Maybe I'm being too cautious and I missed out on some primo poon tang, but I doubt it. It was the comedian Doug Stanhope who said, "I am a player in this life, not a spectator. Herpes to me is like a skateboarder with a skinned knee." I wish I could be that cavalier about The Herps, but I can't do it. It frightens me, big time. I'm still a player, though. Fuck yourself, Stanhope.

My Friend Chad Didn't Do It

Total bullshit, but that's the cops these days. They said he was on drugs. You and I both know Chad doesn't do drugs...

Ownage-- It Ain't Squashed

This is hilarious. These kids are in a nice neighborhood and they're acting like gang members. Turn the volume up because the dialogue is the best part. I knew I was in for a treat from the beginning-- the cock-diesel little white guy in the sideways cap first steps up to fight and says, "I've been waiting for this shit for a minute, homie."

When Life Gives You Lemons

It's fairly common for restaurant staffers to place a lemon slice on the rim of a beverage glass as a flavor enhancer or decorative garnish. But who knows whether these lemons have been handled using sanitary procedures? Anne LaGrange Loving, a professor of science at Passaic County Community College, decided to find out...

read rest of story here

So this is an excerpt from a story on the msnbc site about how filthy those little lemon slices are. Whatever flair the lemon adds to the drink's presentation is simply not worth the potential exposure to poop germs. This kind of shit really gives me the heebie jeebies. I've already begun to obsessively use that Purell sanitizer, now I'm gonna have to be the fucking weird guy who refuses a drink because some chauncey garnished it with a lemon.

It's pretty disgusting out in The World. You motherfuckers really are a filthy lot. The best way to keep safe I guess is to shut myself away from you mangy jerkoffs and hope I can find a woman who is clean and will stay that way by shutting you fucks out right along with me. I can then proceed to do filthy things to her and feel okay about not getting a disease or something from one of you freakin' perverts.

I went to the mall the other day and looked at that black rubber conveyerbelt-like armrest on the escalator. It was all smudged with fingerprints, pocked and nicked, peppered with random white splatter marks (how?)... Nasty shit, and you people made it that way. I certainly had no part in defiling it, I wouldn't touch that armrest, not if you paid me. Don't you motherfuckers think it's nasty? Aren't you ashamed?

Montel Williams Is No Joke

All you have to do is look up Montel Williams on Wikipedia and you see this guy is no fucking joke. His life story reads like a goddamn adventure novel. From ambitious ghetto youth to decorated military man to inspiring talk show host, Montel's life has been nothing short of spectacular. There was even a brief stint as a rodeo clown in Switzerland before he became famous, and if you don't think he banged about a hundred Swiss women while he was there, you're fooling yourself.

His TV show was always above-board and on the level, if you ask me. Never went for the real sleazy stuff like Springer or Jenny Jones. The Montel Williams Show made you feel good about people for once. Montel was always a class act.

Then, Montel Williams was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. A lesser man-- namely every one of you retards reading this shit-- would have gotten bitter, cursed the world, curled up in a ball for a few days. But not Montel. It doesn't slow him down one bit. He instead goes on to become a key player in the battle against MS. He uses his starpower and charisma to raise awareness and funds to combat the fearsome disease. He started the Montel Williams MS Foundation. I'm sure some of you detestable jerks are probably thinking that he wouldn't have made Multiple Sclerosis his life's crusade if he weren't stricken with the disease himself. The nerve of you guys. It's readers like you that make me wonder why I even bother with people. Your cynicism is a real drag. Montel Williams does yeoman's work, and you'd be lucky to develop into a fraction of the man he is. Seriously, what have you ever done?

Anyways...

In the midst of this adventure called Montel's Life, our hero also found time to marry a burlesque dancer and have a few kids. Now he's married to an American Airlines stewardess. And yes, one of the hot ones, asshole. Not one of the old busted stewardesses you see a lot these days. Here's her picture-- doesn't Montel look happy as a pig in shit?

In closing, I defy any one of you scumbags to find a person who can compete with Montel Williams in the Larger Than Life category. Why this guy was never elected Permanent Ruler of All Mankind will remain a mystery. That is all.

Ownage-- When Gay Emos Attack

I can see this emo kid becoming a transexual prostitute in the future. There's a certain edginess beneath his gayness, I could just see it. The fat girl feels strong in the beginning of the vid, she acts really obnoxious and mean. Boy, does she get taken down a peg or two. Owned.

Fitness Made Simple

What is it with this guy John Basedow? He has this business called Fitness Made Simple, I guess he's some kind of fitness guru. But look at this wiry bastard. If you're going to talk me into working out, this Basedow body cannot be the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I would rather be an out-of-shape mush than have a Basedow body. He looks too sinewy, reminds me of a piece of beef jerky. What's with his head? It looks like it doesn't belong on his body. How did this person become successful? Don't tell me hard work. How old is he anyway? This bastard just rubs me wrong, it goes beyond simply hating his weird-looking body. I don't like his face. Or his hair. Or his attitude. But I really hate that goddamn theme song from the Fitness Made Simple commercials...

Here's John Basedow,

and he's gonna show you how

to reach your potential

and turn your whole life around!

It's Fitness Made Simple,

Made for real people.

It's Fitness Made Simple,

It's changing real lives.

Illegitimate Son

Meet Cliff Morrison. His real name is Cliff Marsden, but he decided to take his father's name. His father is Jim Morrison, lead singer of the legendary rock group The Doors. Or so Cliff says, anyway.

Am I convinced? Not by a longshot. Am I intrigued? You bet your ass.

According to Cliff, he was the product of a one night stand between his mother and Jim Morrison. He says he never knew who his father was until he reached adulthood and his mother told him the truth. Jim, of course, was long dead. But that doesn't mean he can't keep rockin', because the Indian spirit that possessed Jim Morrison is now living in Cliff Morrison! That's right, the very same Indian spirit leapt into Cliff's soul, as Indian spirits are wont to do.

The plus side to all this is that now Cliff might just have a little fun on the road to excess. He's already cut one album, an out-of-print collector's item that was released overseas. I heard he went to prison after that. Don't know what for, but I heard that he was mixed up in drugs. I figured that drugs were par for the course when you're possessed by an Indian spirit, but I guess The Law wouldn't let it slide. Anyways, Cliff's out now and he's ready for business. Cliff's gonna cut another album. He opened a myspace account, which is also par for the course for Indian spirits. You can hear some of his music there too, you fucking slave. Fortunately, he's spared us from having to listen to any death poetry, as that doesn't seem to be his thing. Been there done that, I guess. Cliff's music is more bluesy retro rock. Aw hell, who am I kidding... it sounds just like The Doors if the Doors sounded like hammered shit. Give it a listen.

Bethlehem Steel

Ownage of the Day

If you're anything like me, you enjoy seeing people get owned. It's doubly hilarious when said ownage is immortalized on video and put on the internets for folks to enjoy the world over.

The Hottest Woman in The World?

Submitted for your approval, this is Melissa Theuriau, a French news anchor and possibly the hottest woman in The World.

There are also pictures available of Melissa at a nude beach frolicking around topless. I'd post those, but this isn't that kind of blog. Honestly, motherfucker. If you want to see 'em, just google her name. Some of you want me to do everything for you. I've given you this information, the name and image of the hottest woman in The World-- the least you can do is look her up yourself if you want to see her tits. Some of you are really pathetic.

I'm sure some of you are wondering if there are any fully nude pictures of Melissa Theuriau available on the internets. Some of you are real sick bastards. The answer is no, there are none that I could find, only topless ones.

The saddest thing about you people is I have to do this legwork for you when you're all perfectly capable of doing it yourselves. I'm sure now every one of you filthy jerks are seconds away from googling this broad. Some will look no further than the nude shots. These are the real scumbags. Others will also try to find a bio or something so you can consider yourselves fucking experts if she ever comes up in conversation out in The World. "Oh, Melissa Theuriau, she's wonderful. It's pronounced May-lissa, you know." I know how you do. There are no secrets here.

I'm also certain there are a few of you out there who already knew who Melissa Theuriau was. Fuck you. So you're acting all smug and superior because you're convinced you knew about her even before I did. Fuck you. Like I'm doing something bad by bringing up a hot girl you already knew about. Again, fuck you. You're just the kind of bastards I can't stand. You take the fun right out of talking about a beautiful woman. There's something wrong with every one of you. It's actually disgusting.

Separated at birth? Wil Wheaton and Rachel Maddow