Sunday, August 24, 2014

Siblings..

I'm amazed at siblings that actually like hanging out together in public. Like i have no idea how they like it. Like I really do love my brother; I really do. Like I would take a bullet for my brother; I would die for my brother. That's what you are supposed to do for your sibling; if you love him.

But hanging out with him takes an effort; Like I actually have to motivate myself and get the courage to go hang out with my brother in a public place.

Yet there are siblings that are happier than anything to be in there sibling's presence when they don't have to be.

I really want to know their secret; like I would pay $10 to know.

Friday, August 22, 2014

Our Dicks as Dogs...

Guys treat their dicks like their dogs. Ever notice that? When they are young and all it knows is to pee on things we pet it and go, "Oh, what are you? I like you."

Once we get old enough to realize its designed for more than just peeing we have to keep it on a leash because it's always trying to jump into things and getting us into trouble. We do this despite all the abuse we do to it while it sits in our lap.

Then as we get older and learn how to find cat owners we want to play with we actually have to get it to stand up. Like we actually have to talk to it, "GET UP OFF THE COUCH!!! We're going for a walk; we have some trouble you can jump into."

Then as we get really old we realize it's days are numbered and we have to watch it go to sleep forever and we cry :(.

Yet you don't see Sarah McClachlan doing a song about my dick....

Monday, August 18, 2014

Actin' A Fool..

I love Rap music, LOOOVVVEEE Rap music. I have the N.W.A. iHeart station blasting while I cruise in my 00' Denali right now; with tinted windows. Yea I keep it G; I keep it Ginger. I have a habit of thuggin without a soul.

I was just doing some crusin delivering some pizzats (that's thug for pizza) and I was listening to one of my all-time joints (that's hip hop for song) by 50 Cent and tha Game called "How We Do (Fresh '83)." You may have heard it back in a club if you were in clubs in 2005.

The song starts with this little diddy:

"This...is..how..we..do,
We make a move and act a fool up in the club."

Now I like doing some thuggin'...SOME THUGGIN but my thuggin stops at "Actin' a Fool" for one simple reason; "Actin a Fool" is a good way to get shot by a fool.


Look at what's happening in Ferguson, Missouri and the state of Florida never mind anything that happened in Compton, California in the 90's.

I mean kids, teenagers, are getting shot to death by cops and bigots that are also, "Acting a Fool" over cigars, Snapple, and Skittles. I'm not saying all cops act a fool just like not all thugs act a fool; bigots are just in a perpetual state of being a fool since its not an act.

I'm just saying the 'actin a fool needs to stop'. Maybe instead of "Actin' A Fool" we should start "Readin' A Book"

Neil De Grasse Tyson grew up in the same neighborhood as Mike Tyson. Don't get mad. I'm just keepin' it real.

Sunday, August 17, 2014

The Terrorists Have Won: My Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Review

Imagine my childhood as the Twin Towers of The World Trade Center on the day of September 11, 2001. Those towers represent many fond memories and many of those floors represent those of watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in cartoon form along with the movies along with playing the videogames.

The atmosphere around those towers is like a nice September day in New York City. You can hear the sounds of birds chirping merged with engines back firing and colorful language from fits of road rage. In those towers are memories of Michaelangelo saying cowabunga as Raphael, Leonardo, and Donatello kick Foot Clan ass while working their way to the Shredder. There were videogames based on this story and it made my child hood special despite the huge weight gain and lack of kissing girls.

All of a sudden a plot is hatched where a group of Hollywood terrorists hijack some Megan Fox Boeing 767s at the whim of a terrorist called Michael Bay or Michael Bay Laden if you will. Those planes are hijacked without much resistance, since people like getting pissed as long as it feels nice now a days, and start to make a bee line for those Twin Towers; my child hood memories.

There's some ominous premonitions prior to the movie's release; most notably Megan Fox playing the role of April O'Neil. The fact that her pretty face, flat chest, non-existent trunk was chosen to play the role of the curvy, auburn haired news reporter was forgiveable. Yeah her acting ability makes Keanu Reeves look like Anthony Hopkins but there is still hope. There have been plenty of great movies that had lousy actors. Cuba Gooding Jr. actually won an Oscar so miracles can happen. This movie was not that miracle unless you consider a terrorist miraculous. Yes, I consider this movie a terrorist attack.

Megan Fox was Flight 11 crashing into the North Tower of my childhood. By itself it could have just been an act of the naive or ill-informed on the subject of not crashing planes into skyscrapers; or the concept of selecting an actress that looks like April O'Neil to play April O'Neil. Not a big deal and certainly nothing tragic. I mean it's the Ninja Turtles just like the World Trade Center was the World Trade Center and my child hood memories were my child hood memories. I mean it's not possible that they could actually be under attack right? That would be utterly impossible. Nobody would do that would they? That's what I thought walking into the movie theater and watching the trailers along with my girlfriend, Dani, whom also grew up on Ninja Turtles since we are both in our 30's which means we grew up in the 90's and the 90's were awesome. The only creepy realization I had about 90's was the Carl Winslow was a lousy father who let Steve Urkel stalk his daughter, Laura, in his own house; and he was a cop.

After the trailers the movie started. Just imagine this as the image of Flight 175 coming on-screen. It still doesn't even register as odd at first. The movie starts and there's an April O'Neil that does the news. So far so good; April O'Neil was a news a reported in the original story. That is faithful to the 90's movies, cartoons, videogames, and comics. I never read the comics but understanding 3 out the 4 source materials should be enough to have an understanding of the ninjas on a half shell. I know Michael Bay Laden had to have done some research. Then the foot clan shows up and that's when things start to get a little askew just like when we realized whomever was flying that Boeing 767 wasn't planning on missing the South Tower.

The foot clan looked nothing like the foot clan. Ok, Ok it's 2014 and militarization is a reality. Maybe Michael Bay's Foot Clan got some training with Black Water and has a black market connection for purchasing assault rifles to keep current with the times. Marvel movies does this with its while still staying true to the source material. This couldn't turn into what I think it was about to turn into; could it? I was wrong, I was so wrong and yes it had to with the Flight 11 that was Megan Fox because the Flight 175 also happened to be Megan Fox; more specifically a revelation about the character that Michael Bay was trying convince me was April O'Neil.

The highly, traumatizing impact of what began the destruction of my child hood memory started when Megan Fox meets Splinter after some pseudo-jihadist kidnapping by these Superhero Ninja Turtles that Michael Bay was trying to convince me were in fact my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles from my 90's raised childhood. That's when the back story of the Superhero Ninja Turtles, not Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but Superhero Ninja Turtles came in. I think you might be starting to realize what I'm getting at, especially those of you that grew up in the 90's and were watching CNN during September 11. That plane was going to hit and those Twin Towers were under attack just like how our child hoods were about to be under attack the moment that there was a back story between April O'Neil and Splinter as well the Superhero Ninja Turtles. Let me explain something guys. There is no going back for this movie as well as us as adults that grew up in the 90's after that since, if you followed the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, THERE IS NO PRIOR CONNECTION BETWEEN APRIL, SPLINTER, AND THE TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES UNTIL THEY ACTUALLY MET IN THE ORIGINAL STORY!!! I'm sorry for all the caps because it makes me sound like a raving lunatic but I'm acting the exact the same way when Flight 175 hit and everyone that grew up in the 90's, and prior to that went, "OH MY GOD ANOTHER PLANE CRASHED INTO THAT BUILDING!!!! AMERICA IS UNDER ATTACK!!" 

In other words Michael Bay----------Who from this day forward will be known as Michael Bay Laden-----directed not one but two Megan Fox Boeing 767 Airliners into The North and South Towers of my childhood so thus from, the transitive property which is the basis of logic, one can only deduce that MY CHILDHOOD WAS UNDER ATTACK!!!!!!!!!

Now I'm not even going to go into detail about the rest of the movie. Just imagine the rest of the movie as the rest of my fond childhood memories. I'm talking about Super Mario, Sonic the Hedgehog, Street Fighter, Mortal Kombat, Michael Jordan, Power Rangers, Ren and Stimpy, The Simpsons, Rugrats, Kris Kross (If you remember them you're definitely from the 90's), Doug, and Lamar Burton from Reading Rainbow all jumping from the flames to their doom to escape the aftermath of Michael Bay Laden before the towers completely collapsed into a pile of smoldering rubble, gore, and screams.

Thanks to this movie I no longer have a child hood. I'd like to paint some ray of hope somewhere but I would just be lying and I don't want to lie to you people; especially you guys in your 30's because there is a depressing reality that this tragedy of a movie has shown us. Our childhoods are officially over and our adult lives will never be the same again.

Never forget :(

P.S. Barack Obama, please issue an Executive Order to have Michael Bay Laden brought to justice for Crimes Against our Childhoods. I beg of you.




My Apologies: The Pit Bull Story

I need to apologize to the owner of a pit bull. I was really drunk one night and was walking to my car to give some people a ride; I would also like to apologize to those people too; you know who you are. I walk by this fenced in yard and I was a little buzzed and by a little I was probably three times past the legal limit. With that said I also want to apologize to the Charleston Police Department.

On the other side of the fence was this pitbull barking it's head off at me like I was Michael Vick, Now sober me would have just kept walking because you know? Pitbulls can kick your ass if you disrespect their territory. They are not mean animals. They are just protective and at the time it thought I was threat. He was just being a doggy bouncer. Sober me would have known me.

However sober me had gone wee-wee-wee all the way to oblivion at the moment. Instead there was this asshole around called Drunk Me. Drunk Me is a very mean guy.who calls fat girls on their muffin tops and insults frat boys on their Polo shirts. He's an asshole. He makes grown men and women cry without putting a hand on them. He could be head of the IRS or Cuntcast; I don't call it Comcast I call it Cuntcast.

Drunk Me was walking by that gate, heard the dog, had whiskey and PBR coursing through his veins, thought that the pit bull was disrespecting his authority granted to him by his existence and turned to the gate with a bit of advice, "SHUT UP YOU FUCKING DOG!!!!" which Drunk Me followed by kicking the gate which the pit bull was standing behind.

Now here is the other thing about Drunk Me; he doesn't know his own strength. Drunk Me thought that kick to the gate was going to be a light kick that would establish dominance over the Pit Bull and let him know that there was a MMA fighter that wasn't afraid of Pit Bulls on the other side. However, that kick sent that gate flying open and apparently scared the ever loving piss out of that Pit Bull. I guess I should apologize to that pit bull now. I actually like pit bulls and all other animals. I may eat some of them, not Pit Bulls because I'm not Korean but I love them regardless.

The pit bull did shut up since I guess he realized that there was someone very mean and drunk on the other side but then the porch light for the house came on.

Now this is where Sober Me would have faced the consequences like a responsible adult but like I said Sober Me had been beaten back by a combination of alcohols that only Clint Eastwood could withstand. Drunk Me was there and Drunk Me looked at the now terrified individuals who had no idea what to think. Drunk Me decided this was the time get his Ray Lewis on and looked to them and said, 'Let's get the fuck outta here."

We drove off at a speed that was reasonably higher than the speed limit and everyone got home safe.

Long story short there may come a time in the future where a guy will get a note on his door step that says:

Hey,

You don't know me and I'm too scared to tell you who I am but here's $1,000. Sorry about the gate.

Sorry about Drunk Me,
Sober Me

P.S. Tell your dog, "woof woof", which I think is, "Sorry, my bad" in dog talk. I hope he is doing well and back to his gate barking ways.

Monday, August 11, 2014

The Porn I Like

I'm a straight guy but I don't watch lesbian porn. I like watching penetration; a lot of penetration. The more cocks in a chick the better. Especially when its multiple cocks going in the same hole. 

The best part is when you are watching two straight guys fucking a chick in the same hole and both are getting off on one side of their dick rubbing on the side of another guy's dick. 

I mean how do they do deal with this? Its not like they are gay or bi where it's instantly fine with them. These are straight guys having orgasms, in part, from rubbing their cock on another guy's cock. 

What do I know? I just jerk off to girls being slutty as guys rub their cocks on each other in them.

Four Hoaxes and Maybe a Funeral

Dani: "Robin Williams died."

Me: "Is it a hoax"

Dani: "No, he is really dead."

Thanks to the internet I have to ask if every person's death is a hoax. I can't wait till my friends and family start dying so I can start asking if their death is a hoax.

I can't wai till my mom tells me my grandmother is dead.

Mom: (sobbing tears) "Frankie, Grammy passed away."

Me: "Is it a hoax?"

Mom: "No, how could you even ask me that? I'm crying."

Me: "I don't know. I thought you might be trying to sell a hoax and are a good actor."

Thanks Internet. I can't even be sure if old people are dead now.

It's going to really suck when I show up to an ex-girlfriend's funeral and I have to finger her corpse to make sure it's really her. I doubt a hoaxer would be able to forge a dead ex-girlfriend's pussy.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Death




I don't deal with death like a normal person. The only deaths I have cried over were my dad's, a Cocker Spaniel I used to have named Sonny, a friend from the first grade named Joe Shoeford (Yea, I was Joe's Buddy), and Kate Waring whom was the victim of a homicide. That's 4 people compared however many people I have known that aren't around anymore.

I realized I didn't handle death like a normal person when I witnessed an autopsy when I was 18 for my thesis on "Mycobacteriophages and DNA Vaccines for Tuberculosis". Yeah, the same guy that passed up on a free ride to Duke because he'd rather punch and choke guys in spandex; no-boner.

I witnessed everything first hand. The scalpel delicately carving the Y-incinsion in the chest and abdomen. The exposing of the rib cage by pulling the skin off like its a wrapper for cold cuts. Get it? Cold cuts because a dead body is cold and cut open?

I watched as the pathologist/coroner used saw that could cut through bone, but not skin, to cut open the deceased's rib cage. I began to have an odd curiosity as every organ was removed and weighed like meat at a butcher shop. I held my nose at the behest of the coroner as the gall bladder was removed since the smell was two steps beyond anything that could be produced by a port-a-potty 4 days into Bonaroo.
I watched as an incision was made from ear lobe to ear lobe along the rear base of the man's skull before the skin was pulled up and scrunched the front the guy's face making it look like that of a shar pei sucking on a lemon. The the skull was opened up with the saw to expose the guys brain so it could also be removed and weighed. I remember having to keep from laughing as they left the guy like that to go to lunch. To me it was a dead guy with a face like a stack of flap jacks at the moment. I had no emotions but I was hungry for some Subway.

This baffled my mom as I explained it to her. I guess she was expecting me to come crying to her so she could reassure me with some promise of Heaven or whatever fairy tale she used to escape pragmatism. Instead she just got an explanation of what happened in detail like you just got. Hungry?
The truly odd thing about me is that blood and guts doesn't bother me but spoiled food will make me vomit like a runway model minus shoving a finger down my throat whilst my head hovers above a toilet seat with cocaine residue.

I won't say that I became apathetic towards death that day but I would be lying if I had said that it was a traumatic experience. It was more calming than anything else. I realized that our perspectives towards mortality were highly skewed. I hadn't formed a concrete opinion on it but I knew most people had it dead wrong; all pun intended. As the years went on I started to experience more and more tragedy as friends and family began dying off. As I am writing this I am dealing with the passing of another family member. As odd as it might sound I m actually relieved that he passed away since he was suffering from issues that began to take hold of him after my dad passed away. He was an artist like I aspire to be, him with piano while I try to with a keyboard and a microphone, and like many an artist he was suffering the end result when you lose other intellectuals to bounce ideas off of from your social circle. In this case the beginning of the end was the passing of my dad. It was a very harsh blow to myself and my family; but I noticed it was especially hard for him. The spark that made him who he was lost. The particles of intellectual curiosity that he was entangled to were no longer around to communicate. For an intellectual this is worse than death.

That's because the ultimate drug for an intellectual is a stimulating conversation. For him it was over a chess board with my dad during holiday gatherings. For most guys it's sex but a smart guy eventually realizes sex is just a drug that gets skewed from the idolization of a society that continues to look upon it with a reverence of ego and ignorance. That's why I get laid; to me sex is just a drug that keeps me stable and is relatively healthy compared to our other "important" activities that ironically revolve around sexual selection. If natural selection governs the evolution of life then sexual selection governs the evolution of modern society. My uncle knew this along with my dad as I have I come to learn it. The best high an intellectual can have is a eureka moment from conversing with those that think outside the box. Go long enough without that then you just wish to go off in peace with your dignity intact. That's why I choose to struggle with money by writing and doing comedy instead of just tossing my free will to the side and joining the rat race we call capitalism. Don't get me wrong, capitalism allows me that luxury but it takes pawns for such a luxury to exist.

 The biggest disservice I could do to our society or myself is to live by its dogmas. That's why I'm going to achieve fame or die trying; probably in a hotel bedroom with my corpse surrounded by used condoms and the crescendo of screams of a mixed race coed whom just discovered that erections happen from rigor mortis.

I can make such a statement nonchalantly because I won't know it when it happens because I'll be dead. Just like most people that have ever existed are as well as 99% of life that ever walked this Earth has. They died, they are gone, for most of them they were cannon fodder to be emulsified to fuel the train that is life and unlike most trains life is a Transformer that wipes the floor with anything of its presence and choosing anytime it wishes. That's because life has the inevitable trump card of death and what many fail to realize is that they are just drugs built upon drugs. That's what death is; it's a drug. It's the altering of an experience only there is no coming down from it once given too big a dose. Life is a drug too. It's all drugs. One drug allows the experience of evolved primates that complain about Justin Beiber, Ebola, the economy, and the line at Starbucks while the other offers silence or a dream. Just like any drug, death gets a lot of bad press via the idolization of society but once you try it it's probably not that bad.

Worst comes to worse well----actually that's not even the worst. It's just an altered experience. What's really the worst is wasting an experience on the fear of an unknown experience. If you want to get over the concept of death then stop worrying about it since death is a very good drug dealer. It'll give you your dose when you're ready and you won't even have to worry about it because you'll be dead. Now go out there and make your life something worth dying for. That's the way you beat death, by making your juice not worth it's squeeze until it relinquishes itself to operating on your terms. That's how winning is done.