home is where the heart is

the power of Peavey Guitars




Some of you know what I do for a day job so you’ll understand when I say that I’m busier then ten muthafuckers. Betwixt moving our regional headquarters across town whilst at the same time being besieged by all the shit going on in the Gulf, things have been odd to say the least. So if my posting for the next week or so is sketchy, I don’t know what to tell you except that I’m busy. But on a sidebar kind’a thing I want to get this off my chest. If I hear one more goddamned time, “

if people knew that New Orleans was so susceptible to getting fucked up why’d they continue living there”?

I’m smacking somebody’s child in the fuckin face. Ok, I want all you so called smart armchair I got shit figured out muthafuckers with all the answers to look around the neighborhood or city you live in.

Some of you cum guzzlers live on the east or southern coast where hurricanes hang out. Some of you little pillow biting bastards call the west coast home where earthquakes are the rule of the day. And there are the flatbackers that live on mountain slopes that are home to quaint old volcanoes. Then you got little ole me living dead square in tornado ally.

Shit, unless your ass lives maybe in the fuckin middle of Montana ain’t many Americans but a hop throw & skip from some sort of ecological disaster that can stright fuck somebody’s shit up, and I don’t see many of you moving across the country to escape the oncoming devastation, now do I? Why? Because that’s your muthafuckin home, the place where you live and work, home is where the heart is and all that good shit.

I can’t think of too many people I know that can just uproot the fuck up and move on. And here’s some food for thought. I know all about this kind of stuff, I fully understand the bad shit that can come from living here in tornado ally or practically next door to the muthafuckin New Madrid fault line, the biggest fuckin fault line in the United States, and moving has never crossed my mind. Bitches!

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

too busy to write

I’m busier then a one legged
dancer auditioning for her
college play.
Word

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

sweating the small stuff

From the “how much is that doggy in the window” department………..

comes a story that’s so, so…… you know how sometimes you hear or see shit that’s so fucked up its actually funny? Well that’s how this story rolls. Famous fifties and sixties film star Brigitte Bardot instead of sticking her old French nose into other’s folks shit is actually raising a fuss about something worthwhile.

Brigitte Bardot has called on the French government to halt the reported habit that fishermen on the French island of Reunion have of using live puppies and kittens as shark bait. My many inside sources told me that local fishermen attract sharks by tying puppies or kittens onto the fishing line then throwing the little mewling or barking muthafuckers, whichever is your preference, into the water, and wait for sharks to swallow the thrashing animals.

According to my many inside sources, a six-month-old puppy was found last month with hooks sticking out of its little wet nose and one of its legs and it’s not a rare sight to see cats six or seven months old with hooks still in them hobbling about and shit. My many inside sources aren’t sure show long this practice of using live puppies and kittens as shark bait has been going on, or why the locals want to hunt sharks in the first fuckin place. You know, if this shit wasn’t verifiable I’d surely suspect this of being some Monty Python sketch cause it’s that fucked up.









Now from the “lord, let me get it up one more time” department, in conjunction with the “where’s Paul Harvey when we need him” department…………..

comes a story of a man ninety-two years old accused of sexually assaulting a woman in a nursing home. According to my many inside sources, a nurse’s aid walked on the two in the bathroom of the woman’s room where somebody’s Pawpaw was busy getting his nut busted.

The woman the older gent is accused of assaulting is a resident of the nursing home and has advanced Alzheimer’s disease and is in her sixties. In papers filed at his arraignment, police say ole grampus a retired local doctor, went to the nursing home to visit the woman and to check up on her. Police are kind’a stymied because they can’t really interview the woman because she just is not able to communicate in a clear fashion, just a lot of humming and shit.

My many inside sources called the old geezer on the phone to ask him what was up as if we didn’t know, and he called the workers at the nursing home overzealous, and added that he plans to sue police for defamation and slander. He went on to say that he was in the bathroom with the woman but that shit was on the up and up and then they hung up on his old ass cause he started prattling something about WWII and young whippersnappers and got boring.



And lastly from the “ooh, ooh, what can I wipe my hands on” department………..

comes another fucked up story, but fucked up for a different reason. In San Francisco a dump truck delivering twenty tons of dirt to local businesses tipped over and crashed into an adult video arcade this morning, narrowly missing three patrons. "It was close," said a video clerk at the video store, who identified himself only as Jersey Dog. "One guy was near the inside of the wall in a booth, but no one was hurt."

The incident happened when the dump truck was dumping dirt to be used to fill in several businesses' sub-basements. The back of the truck tipped over to the side and into the wall of the store, shattering windows and dumping tons of dirt into the part of the store that houses booths for video peep shows. Concerned firefighters used a thermal imager to ensure that no one had been buried dead or alive under the huge mound of dirt.

My many inside sources tell me that the brave firefighters were also prepared for the horrible eventuality that they might come upon men in their death throes with cocks still in hand. Firefighters and rescuers were heard to say that intense training prepares then for such events and findings. But lucky for all, no one was hurt and all cocks were all safely accounted for.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

what a crock

you think ole Pat realizes how much shit he's full of?

I’m just a small piece of gristle in the giant bucket of ribs but the Pentagon’s shit where they propose closing or consolidating sixty-two major military bases and seven hundred seventy five smaller installations to save almost fifty billion over a twenty year period is bullshit from where I sit.

I understand scaling back but during a time of war? I just don’t get it especially when the cost of the Iraq war is hitting us for the tune of almost five billion dollars a month which according to my meager math skills comes out to sixty billion dollars a year.

As far as I see it’s nothing but robbing from peter to pay paul, and those of us that’s done it to stay afloat know that sooner or later all you’re doing is fuckin yourself in the ass. I’m sorry, dry fuckin yourself in the ass without the benefit of a reach-around.

And since I’m on the subject, isn’t it time for someone to drop Pat Robertson’s stinkin crazy ass in a deep hole in the middle of the fuckin wilderness somewhere? Can you image the fuckin conversation that had to happen at the White House?

Bush…”Pat said fuckin what about Chavez”?

Aid…..he said “"If he thinks we're trying to assassinate him I think that we really ought to go ahead and do it. It's a whole lot cheaper than starting a war and the United States should "take him out."

Bush…”take the muthafucker out? Please don’t tell me that Pat said that.

Aid….”and get this shit, he said it over the air”.

Bush….”why me, what do I do to deserve this shit? Over the air you say”?

Aid…”yup, on the air on the muthafuckin 700 Club. And get this, now he’s all back peddling saying that he was misquoted and shit”.

Pat…”I meant take him out as in take him away from office. Yeah that’s right, as in take him somewhere else….yeah, that’s the ticket”.

Bush…”and I had to pick this year to stop doing crack”.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

pork pussy blues

I used to have this 800 number that you’d call when the mental levy broke. The phone would ring and people on the other end would start chanting and humming and shit. I fuckin kid you not. It was supposed to diffuse anger and calm a cat down. It was given to me back in the day as a joke, but I actually knew people that had a “safety number” to call and I always wondered.

Well I could’a used a safety number yesterday. All week at work I’ve been getting kicked in the balls by a bunch of evil changes going on like moving our office across town and it’s really been affecting my mood. So since when is it a fetish thing to get sucker punched in the nutsac? There’s a growing number of videos on the web showing men getting kicked in the nuts by chicks with high heels. Maybe I’m not enlightened, but I just can’t see this quirky little fad catching on.

So I leave work early yesterday to buy a bike battery and catch a break. I decide to drive up to Grandview, Mo mainly because of what the fuck and why not. But I was so distracted by shit going on at work that I ended up driving thirty miles in the wrong direction. I eventually made it there and picked up what I needed. I make it back to Westport and decide to get a few things from the grocery store before I went home, cause I’m really feelin the need for some comfort food and shit.

I do my do and I notice this elderly women sittin in her car as I come out and I figure she must be waiting on someone. But as I’m pullin out of my space she’s tryin to get my attention. It seems that her car won’t start. No telling how long she’d been sittin there in the hotass heat tryin to flag someone down. Poor woman, hell, if she popped eighty pounds wet I’d be surprised, and she had to be pushing seventy-five easily. I thought it was pretty fucked up that the second I leaned into her car window to see what was up, suddenly four or five people showed up wanting to know what was going on.

Fuckin pious rat bitches! Anyway the old lady was pretty unhinged, she kept telling me what she thought was wrong with her car while I kept telling her to calm down and take it easy. I got her calmed down long enough to tell her that her car seemed to be flooded and if she would unass the seat I’d get her on her way. Well, I didn’t say unass the seat but she got my drift. Just because you’re old don’t make you slow. I was able to squeeze one leg and an arm into her tiny assed car and I got it started.

Talk about your happy senior citizen, if she had blessed me anymore I could’a qualified for sainthood easily. There were also two very hot chicks nearby who watched the whole thing. They kept telling me what a nice guy I was and that it was a very cool thing I did. Yeah but they weren’t coming off no ass were they? Anyway I would’a made my own age’ed mother proud. I guess a good deed makes a bad day better huh?

Moving on, I have a pet peeve, yeah, I know, one of many and it has to deal with bad or inconsiderate drivers, which are really one and the same if you wanna cut thru the bullshit. In the opinion section of the local newspaper are always letters from various drivers who think they have the fuckin god given right to tailgate and speed thru traffic. I can’t even begin to tell you on how many levels this offends me.

Call me an old ditty or what the fuck ever, but I enjoy doing the speed limit. I take great pleasure in signaling my turns and whatnot. I enjoy obeying the laws of the muthafuckin road. But you know what I’d enjoy better? I‘d love to have a big red button on my dash board, and whenever someone near me ran a red light or tailgated me or got on my bad side. I’d push that red button and one of those giant cartoon hands would pop out of my hood and slap the blue balled Jesus out of a muthafucker. I swear to god I would burn that muthafucker out.

I remember the time I was driving my sweet elderly mother to the store and some old slappy bitch next to me on the freeway suddenly decides she wants to drive in my lane as well as hers. Well I tell you what! I rolled down my window and started pounding on her hood at sixty miles an hour! If that didn’t pook out her panties I don’t know what did. She’ll look three times before she changes lanes again.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

good luck

Tony Ortega the managing editor of the Kansas City Pitch magazine is leaving his position here for a more lucrative position as editor of the Pitch’s sister publication in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. In his short time here he has in my humble opinion made the Pitch a more interesting read. His style has pissed off some of the local hipsters but that’s what made his shit cool to read because somebody had to beard these muthafuckers in their own den and he did it with glee.

I’ve always thought of Tony as one of the few people who truly “got it” and thusly understood the age old adage “fuck em if they can’t take a joke”. Unlike myself who was all about “fuck em”. But the thing about Tony that rocks the most is that he dug the blogging community. Where most publications were Johnny comes lately and shit about blogging, he was into what we did from the beginning. He wrote about us, he featured us in a weekly column, and he was a factor in my (that’s me) being chosen as “best blogger of 2004”, the in Pitch’s “Best of Kansas City”.

So I wish Tony and his too hot to look it in the direct light of day wife all the luck in their move to Florida. The local bloggers there are gonna fuckin love this guy and fuck em for having him when we don’t anymore. But we don’t mind sharing because that’s the cool thing about the Internet. Even though you may be physically removed, you’re never really gone. Good luck Tony.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

things to do in Denver when you're bored

Here are some fun things to try when you’re home alone at night and nothings good on the TV and you feel like a bit of the freak. Pick out your favorite music and put it thru your headphones. Turn off all the lights and lay flat on the floor or bed and try to be as still as possible. Make sure your arms and legs aren’t touching, and then concentrate on stretching your hands and feet out to infinity. You’ll feel longer.

Lay or sit in a pitch black room and wait until your eye’s get adjusted to the dark. Then hold your hand about a foot in front of your face and concentrate on it until you can see a faint bluish glow emit from your hand. If you see the glow, that’s your aura.

Do this in bed in a dark room. Close your eyes and relax while concentrating on the inside of your eye lids. Soon you’ll start seeing objects appear. You might see the stars in outer space or galaxies or even faces. But a word of warning; if the faces start trying to talk to you then its time to flip over. Trust me, the talking faces ain’t kosher.

This is the last one I promise. Lay or sit in a dark room and close your eyes and envision a blank white screen in your head. When you get the screen in place then think of someone’s name or face and place it on the screen. I know this is a lot but while all this is going on concentrate hard on the person. It may be less then an hour or it might be a couple of days, but you’ll hear from em.

These are all thing I do late at night when I can’t sleep and don’t feel like punching the monkey. I especially dig the last two, but like I said if the faces try to talk to you, then you need to break it off. The talking faces ain’t nothing but bad juju.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

bar gifts & strange bedfellows

Wanna know how my weekend went? Ok.
I hung out Friday at the Hurricane with Constance (who’s pictured below) and a friend of hers who lives here now by way of France. Sitting on the couch with Constance on one side and Maria (I hope I got her name right) from France on my other side was like stereo hot chick and shit. Very entertaining to say the least.

Saturday I kept it down and spent the day and evening at home doing laundry and such. Sunday I went to my pal Steve’s place, the Record Bar to meet some friends for brunch. I took Steve a bar warming present which happened to be this really old eight millimeter projector I had from back in the day. Yeah, before your mp3’s and DVD’s and shit some of us had to work it out to LP’s and 45’s and rub it out to film reels on the ole eight millimeter. Though I will say that rubbing one out to an old eight millimeter was a lot of fuckin work.

First off you had to set the muthafucker up which was a pain in the ass cause you had to feed the fuckin film down thru it and shit and that’s not counting the time spent looking for a spot on the wall that wasn’t all fucked up where you could project the damn thing on. And that was if you didn’t break the film strip which was kind’a brittle to begin with cause you brought it on the sly from one of the theaters downtown, and no telling how many times that muthafucker had been played.

Of course if you broke it during mid-film you had to shut everything down and raise the fuckin blinds and turn the stinkin lights back on cause you had to go digging around for your splicing kit to fix the goddamn thing. And by the time you spliced the muthafucker and wound it back on the reel and thru the projector, took your clothes back off and turned the blinds and downed the lights and started the projector. Shit you were too tired to rub one out.

Do you know how ecstatic muthafuckers were when the video cassette player came out? Instead of fucking with film reels and shit, we all had these state of the art nine hundred pound video players the size of a small car sitting in our houses. And with remote control to boot. And if you were rocking your remote had the extra long cord on it.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

weapon of mass destruction

My gal pal Constance couldn’t resist sending me this picture. She and some of her friends had gone to a fashion show here in town and whilst hanging out doing with I imagine people do at events such as this, eating hors d'oeuvres and watching shit. She was approached by one of the clothing designers and asked if she would take a turn or two down the runway modeling the chick’s shit. What’s so cool about this picture is that my pal Constance is forty-five years old. And trust me, she's a handful.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

sweatin the small stuff

From the “it’s a white wing republican world” department comes………..

the story of a middle-aged couple who not only met at a stinkin McDonalds, but decided to get married there also. According to my many inside sources, the cat would pull up to the drive thru in his minivan where he’d receive his delicious hot (hah!) Big Mac from the same chick every day. They’d chat each other up for a few minutes then off he’d go back to the job.

But the day came when he rolled up to the window and instead of her passing him his delicious hot (hah!) Big Mac, she passed him her hands to hold. And instead of the usual pimple factory sweeping the drive there stood a district judge who married the two. Now, I’m as romantic as the next muthafucker and always down with the love jones. But really, getting married at fuckin Mickey D’s is as Mike Tyson would say, “simply ludicrous”.

Yeah, I can see that muthafucker lasting a long time. But you got to give the couple their proper respect. Forming the relationship the way they did is like meeting over the internet or like phone sex. Think about it, all he ever saw of her was from mid-torso up and all she saw of him was the same. So it had to be true love? Right?



And now from the “I thought you did” department comes………

a story of a Philly firefighter and his family who decided they would have a family day up in Atlantic City at the Steel Pier amusement park. Him and the wife along with their three kids are having a fuckin blast eating and riding everything in sight. The sun’s shining, birds are chirping and things couldn’t be better cause it’s family bonding time.

They all decide that it would be fun if they all rode the Big Splash together, so into the ride car they hopped. Up, up, up, the car went, around and around the track it flew till it came to the big decent where the car would slide into a giant pool of water. The car flew down the hill with the family screaming and waving their arms in the air until it hit the pool that somebody forgot to fill with water.

Yup, the fuckin pool which is supposed to be filled with water was empty as a muthafucker, and the husband now sits in the hospital in critical condition and his wife and three kids were fucked up as well. According to my many inside sources the park workers on duty had either forgotten to put water in the basin or hadn’t noticed that it had all drained the fuck out. And on an ending note, isn’t it kind of ironic that a firefighter’s life in endangered by the lack of the very thing that he uses to save lives?



And lastly from the “black magic woman” department comes………..

the story of a former personal assistant to Carlos Santana who’s filed a wrongful termination lawsuit against Carlos and his wife. The former employee, 59, charges that Santana’s wife, Deborah, brought in a man known as “Dr. Dan” so employees could grow closer to God and become better workers thru spiritual calibration thus resulting in a deeper level of consciousness?

In Deborah Santana’s view, the higher a person calibrated with Dr. Dan, the better employee they were because they were more ‘spiritually evolved. And the former employee who apparently calibrated low and was fired is seeking monetary damages for lost wages, emotional distress and unpaid overtime, among other demands.

Now I ain’t saying shit about shit, but what happened to the days when you fetched and roadied for a rocker and on the downlow they slipped you some of the good acid or a couple of bricks of the stinkin devil weed as a perk? See I don’t blame Carlos, but the stinkin MTV and its inherent society.

Shit’s become so fucked up that it’s come to this. Instead of passing to the right and giving everyone on the bus a hit, which will get a muthafucker in trouble since the little narks are everywhere. His wife has to step in a hire this Dr. Dan muthafucker to test people and shit just to see where their consciousness lie and shit. And come the fuck on, this cat had to know when he signed on with Carlos that the muthafucker took too much brown acid back in the day and isn’t right.

But I have to agree and say that more band wives and girlfriends have fucked up some shit. But really, if some cat sporting the dashiki and the white boy fro who goes by the moniker “Dr. Dan” decides to give your ass a “spiritual” test, if you can’t fake the right answers then maybe you should be kicked off the fuckin bus.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

multisyllabic attention whores

Per my usual weekend habit I’m sitting in the Broadway Café Sunday morning enjoying my solitude whilst sipping on a delicious iced coffee (with 2% milk and cinnamon and coca) sitting in the back doing what I do which is mind my own shit watching all the people walk in and out. Sitting in front of me are various peoples drinking coffee and talking about this and that.

At some tables sit the Sunday paper people spending what seems to be hours scrutinizing every inch of the paper. They’re topped by the muthafucker’s who instead of reading the local Sunday paper, insist on reading the massive tome that’s the stinkin New York Times. You got your crossword people, your comfortably married couples who don’t feel the need to clutter up shit with wasted conversation. Off in one end you got the bible people, these are the folks that walk in holding their bibles like some sort of righteous shield in front of em. Outside on the sidewalk sit the more adventurous drinking coffee and people watching.

Out of all these groups with the exception of the bible crowd who I keep a wary eye on just in case the voice in their heads say “hi this is your ole pal god. How abouts you put that coffee down and start whacking muthafuckers in my name and shit”. The one group I’ve been paying attention too as of late are what I call the new intellectuals. These are people, usually young, having all the really deep conversations about politics, science, and any other existential bullshit they can come up with. And that’s ok, cause if you don’t ask then how you supposed to know some shit?

But what kills me is the gravity and intensity of some of these conversations. Usually there’s some attention whore who’s all about his or her part of the conversation. It’s all look at me and how many multisyllabic sentences can I string together at one sitting whilst staring intently. I don’t know wither it’s a sad commentary on our social existence or what, but watching a person look like they’re ready to cry if his or her point isn’t understood is kind’a fucked up. I mean goddamn, there’s this cat sitting there all tensed up and shit, with his face all red and boggle eyed almost begging muthafuckers to understand or at least acknowledge his shit. And whilst viewing all this, the heaviest thought in my head is what’s on the fuckin TV when I get home.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

guest poster

Unknown to most my best pal Michelle has quite the storied past. And for someone that looks so normal her freak flag has hit the brass cap on more then a few occasions. From porn store clerk to bun headed Liberian, she’s the real deal.

From owning one of the largest porn collections to having total recall of every porn star past and present along with a complete understanding of the Dewey Decimal System to hand feeding me whilst in the hospital, she rocks. Plus she has the coolest stories to tell so I’m letting her post em on my site from time to time. So here’s a quickie to introduce her. Say howdy to Michelle.



When I worked in a porn store, it was insane the number of couples who would ask me to be in a threesome with them. Did they think, just because I worked in a place like that, I was for sale or something? And that I could take all the toys there home with me for their tryst? It's not like people would normally walk up to a cashier at a grocery store and say,

"hey, you, me and my girlfriend, and a couple of those cucumbers from the produce aisle* tonight. What do ya say?"

Or say to a clerk at a toy store,

"how about you and me take the big stuffed bear home tonight and make it a threesome?"

Just because someone works in an adult environment doesn't mean they are going to sleep with you. Quit propositioning those poor girls who work in porn stores, dammit!

But come to think of it, all my threesomes have been with girls who worked in porn stores, so* maybe you shouldn't listen to me :)

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

the bum's rush

"like I asked Greg for a dollar
and he said show my tits first?
ohmygod how rude"







I see in the stinkin newspaper that the Atlanta city council had a hearing proposing putting limits on panhandling or begging in parts of downtown Atlanta. And of course people are crawling out of the fuckin woodwork complaining of racism and that folks are wanting to keep a muthafucker down and shit. Business owners and people who live and work downtown are concerned with customers and safety and the fact that the most aggressive panhandlers aren’t even homeless. You know, I’ve never been to Atlanta so I don’t know the situation there.

But from living here in Midtown all my adult life I know that the bums around here can be a fuckin pain in the ass. And I can assure you that people that have to walk the bum gauntlet everyday don’t really give a rat’s fat ass about the ethnic background of the bum, we’re just sick of dealing with em. And before some of you halleluiah chorus, tree huggin, patchouli oil wearin freaks try to get in my ass, to me there’s the “homeless” and then there’s the “fuckin bums. The bums pester people for change and hassle the women and basically rub me the wrong way. The “homeless” need our “compassion” and a leg up. Muthafuck a bum cause there’s a big fuckin difference.

Now there’s a couple of muthafuckers I throw a couple of bucks at or a pack of smokes, mainly cause they don’t run up on me like the rest of these muthafuckers do. Oh, and goddamn please, if you want a fuckin smoke don’t be making with the fuckin sign language like you no speakie the fuckin English and shit. You want a smoke, then look me in the eye and ask me for a smoke. Don’t be waving your fuckin fingers in front of your mouth like some corn eatin retard. And as far as bum’s being homeless and shit? If your ass is so homeless how come you got a different change of clothing everyday and sporting better sneaks then what I got on?

Like this one bitch who always tries to hit me up that I narked out early one morning throwing money into the all night deposit at the fuckin bank. Back in my bouncing days we’d see em pull up in cars and four or five of the muthafucker’s would hop out. Shit was like fuckin Amway the way these cocksuckers networked the area. And I got in trouble for this a few years ago. But if you’re a chick on the bum with a nice rack? What’s wrong with me saying, “ok, you want a couple of bucks, you pop out the titties and we’ll see”.
Oh my god people called me wrong for that.

I actually can understand a muthafucker needing a handout and shit, cause there’s been times back in the day when I’ve sold blood for rent or food. But when they start getting aggressive about it then we got a problem. I walking home from the Hurricane around one in the morning one year and this cat walks up and asks me for change. He gets told no and I move on right? I get less then ten feet away when these three other clowns hit me up. I tell them no, then this one muthafucker steps toward me blocking my path and tells me I’m lyin. Now I can get beat down like anyone else, but being punked out by bums just ain’t kosher.

I told em to do whatever they thought was right, then turned my back and started walking again. I gotta stop doin that, one of these times I’m gonna get my bluff called. But here’s a good piece of advice about bums. Don’t fuck with em just to be fuckin with em. Never fuck with a cat whose only modes of transportation are his feet. A bum on foot can cover some serious miles in a short time and you’ll never hear em coming up behind you until it’s too late. The bottom line is that you can tell who really needs the handout and the pussie’s who just want your change.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

sometime a song says it all

The silicon chip inside her head gets switched to overload. And nobody's gonna go to school today, she's going to make them stay at home. And daddy doesn't understand it, he always said she was as good as gold. And he can see no reason cause there are no reasons what reason do you need to be shown?

The telex machine is kept so clean as it types to a waiting world. And mother feels so shocked, father's world is rocked, and their thoughts turn to Their own little girl. Sweet 16 ain't so peachy keen, no, it ain't so neat to admit defeat. They can see no reasons cause there are no reasons What reason do you need to be shown?

All the playing's stopped in the playground now she wants to play with her toys a while. And school's out early and soon we'll be learning and the lesson today is how to die. And then the bullhorn crackles, and the captain crackles, With the problems and the how's and why's. And he can see no reasons cause there are no reasons What reason do you need to die? Tell me why?

I don't like Mondays. Tell me why? I don't like Mondays. Tell me why? I don't like Mondays. I want to shoot the whole day down.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

a very special sweatin the small stuff

From the “cheerleaders=spirit fingers=weird old scrak with too many cats” department….

Comes a story about cheerleaders where it seems that groups of the little cocksockets were up at a local resort having what the athletically bulimic call spirit camp. After a rousing morning session of “jazz hands”, “spirit fingers” long slow splits and other such cheerleaderious shit, the little muffys went to lunch.

After consuming a fine lunch consisting of turkey sandwiches and potato salad, one by one the finely toned group of exhibitionist proceeded to get sicker then a muthafucker. So sick in fact that nineteen of em had to go to the hospital where two of them still remain. My many inside sources tell me that at first everyone thought that the shit was food poisoning but after much testing that theory has been thrown the fuck out. And at the time of this writing the case of the puking cheerleaders still remains a mystery.

But in a blinding blaze of coherent thought, my many inside sources suspect Al Qaeda and the insidious Osama Bin Laden as the culprits. What better way to undermine the spirit of America then by going after something that every American male holds dear. Not mom or her apple pie, not the good ole U.S of A, but bountiful breasted, limber, bouncy, baby got back, American cheerleaders.

Young women whose sole purpose in life besides mashing uglies like the little horny minks they are, is to entertain drunken American men at football games. Oh the horror of it all. Remember, you heard it here first about ev-il raising its ugly head in the heartland. And on an ending note the hotel where they all got sick has no comment but seems to be digging my theory.







And now from “that’s some fuck up shit” department…………….

Comes the story of a fourteen year old girl who died during a stunt gone awry at her high school cheerleading practice……………

ATTENTION…ATTENTION….

the many inside sources have decided that the above subject is to sad for even this site to mock. So we’re replacing it with some jokes……..

…Two guys are looking a dog lick its balls and one says “Man, I wish I could do that.” The other guy says, “Really? You might want to pet the muthafucker first.”….

Which sexual position produces the ugliest children?
Ask your mother

What makes men chase women they have no intention of marrying?
The same urge that makes dogs chase cars they have no intention of driving

Thank you, thank you, we’re here all week. Please try the fish.








And lastly from the “can a muthafucker get serious for a moment” department……..

Comes a short talk about how racism is one sneaky bastard; it slides and winds its way into our everyday lives under our very noses. And you know why, because as each generation matures and grows they tend to forget the crimes and issues of the past. People tend to become lackadaisical about racism and that’s when racism is at its most dangerous.

Years ago when it was of the “in your face” variety, the kind that frightened the fucking shit out of our mother’s and father’s because the memory of hooded thug’s hanging and assaulting their parents still ran fresh thru their minds. They knew and were fully aware of the horrors and fears of racism because they had to deal with it on a daily basis. It infused every aspect of their social lives. They knew the fight and they knew the enemies cause the enemy kept its face out in the open mocking those whom it hated.

It mattered not if it was the Klan or the American Nazis or our own Federal government, they all had their own agenda’s and justification for hating. But now racism is learning to crawl thru the back door. The up front and in your face racism of our parents and grandparents have exchanged hoods and jackboots for tailored suits and Air Jordan’s. The new racism thinks its “cool” and getting one over when they open up a sportsmen’s store and fill it from wall to wall with all kinds of “cool” swag.

But off in one corner sits a shooting display featuring an African Village scene where little blue eyed Tommy from the burbs wearing his FUBU jeans and pumping Fifty Cents on his mp3 player can shoot at targets till his hearts content. And does it matter that some of the targets happen to have black features? I know what some of you are saying, hey, it’s just a big game. Not harming anyone right? Well, that’s where you’re wrong; it’s harming my sanity that a business would promote this kind of racist shit that was growing passé a generation ago.

But you still got people saying what’s the harm? The fuckin harm is that you got fuckin kids shooting guns at fuckin black folk and people are telling em its fuckin ok! This is the kind of shit you read in the paper and you go “what the fuck? This can’t be right? This is the fuckin twenty-first century, people don’t do shit like this.

Then the next fuckin day you see in the paper where stores had to pull an entire clothing line because some racist bastard was able to sneak in some old fashioned Nazi symbolism onto all the fuckin clothing. And the bad thing about that is when the dumb muthafuckin store buyer first saw the design they probably thought how “cool” it looked, while racism grinned and shut the back door behind him as he waltzed on in.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

bad & nation wide

I watched the 70s comedy the “Van” a few weeks ago. It featured a lot of obscure people including a thin pre-Taxi Danny DeVito. The gist of the movie was about this kid who brought a customized van and used it as a rolling shag shack on wheels. The thing about the film that really impressed me was that it celebrated the van culture that was such a huge phenomenon in the late seventy’s and early eighty’s.

That shit was huge back in the day. Just like the movie we watched, cats would buy these big vans, new or used and customize em out the ass. It wasn’t anything for a muthafucker to take a van and fit it with a waterbed or couches and put every amenity he had at home in his van. Back in the day I personally saw vans with beds, mirrored ceilings, and floor lamps along with huge quadraphonic stereos plus CB radios. And let’s not forget the shag carpets.

If your van wasn’t covered wall to wall with deep pile shag carpet and you didn’t have it on the dash and the inside of the doors you just weren’t big pimpin. Ten miles to the gallon, stylin and profilin in my customized tittie pink super extended 75 Ford Econoline van as I leave the car wash and make that turn onto Main. Take a deep toke off the joint and pop in a tape and start grooving as Tower Of Power starts pumping out the Oakland Stroke.

Since it’s just as important to be heard as be seen, I hit the switch and drop the windows and reach up and slide the Moon Roof back. Speed limits thirty-five but keep it ten miles on the low side cause I'm diggin the way the duel Cherry Bombs sound. All the ho’s up and down Main can hear me coming but I just cleaned the shag in the back and want to keep it that way for a while. Up ahead I see one of my partners waiting on the curb so I pull over to let em in. He reaches into the shag-covered mini-fridge behind him and pulls out a Miller to go with that joint he just fired up. So far ain’t a word been said till he hollers at this ho stepping up to the door.

“Damn baby! Where you think you going and shit! Better put that big ass back on the fuckin curb! We ain’t got time for no charity.” “Crazy bitches be wan’in to ride in your shit! Damn!”

I just grin as I pull out my pick and pop my fro a couple of times. That’s just the way shit went back in the day.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

blast from the past.....the old man

I can't remember if I ever posted this on this site, but if I did sue me. I like it.

Best quote from my father.....

“it ain’t fightin that’ll get your ass kicked, it’ll be me kicking your ass if I ever catch you walking away from one"

If you were to walk into my mother’s house and look into the family photo album you’d eventually come to a photo of my father in his twenties. It’s not very flattering and it’s not your normal family touchy-feely kind of photo but it’s a cool representation of his outlook on life. It’s a close-up photo of his face all fucked up and shit after a severe ass kickin he earned one night at work. Here’s what happened or at least the way it was run down to me.

It was during the time of the race riots just after Martin Luther King was gunned down and shit was fucked up here as it was everywhere else. The Old Man was just a few years into his life as a cop and was pulling patrol during dog shift when he saw this large crowd gathered around this doorway and he went over to see what the deal was. What was going on was a group of the local hoods throwing craps on the sidewalk.

Well, digging his job as he did the Old Man figured this shit had to go. So he walked into the middle of it all and told muthafucker’s to hit the bricks or get the shit kicked out of em and win a free ride to the hoosegow. Now myself I figured the Old Man must’a run out of fingers counting heads cause he was kind’a out numbered. But true to form he had no back up to his ass and he waded on in and the fight was on.

The way the story goes shit turned into a regular pier six brawl and cops came running in from all over. When the dust settled the Old Man had gotten his share of getting his ass kicked but by all accounts gave as good as he got. The whole shittin mess ended up at the police station and while booking everybody they stuck the Old Man into a room to cool off and get his hurts treated.

But much to the chagrin of all the other cops, on the other end of the room sat two of the hoods from the fight waiting to be questioned. The Old Man was never much for missing a good opportunity so into the fray once more. More ass kickin ensued and the legend was off to a running start. And some of you gots to wonder where I inherited my lovin attitude on life.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

blast from the past.....fat cat fetish

I'm down there somewhere..oh there I am in the corner


Yesterday I had to go over to my mother’s house to help her move some furniture around. I got there before she made it home from church and when I let myself in my sister’s two cats greeted me at the front door. Goddamn they’re some big hairball-puking fuckers, they look like something fuckin Tarzan ought‘a be fightin and shit in the fuckin jungle. My sister was out of town and so my mother was baby-sitting the big bastards while she was gone. Jesus, I thought my cat was big but damn.

Anyway I’m sitting in my mother’s house looking around whilst keeping a wary eye on the two wildebeests tromping back and forth and I got to staring at her latest hobby. She’s learned how to sign, taken computer classes and now she’s painting her bedroom. But her constant hobby is making pottery figures and I must say she’s not half-assed bad. She has this huge tackle box full of paints and brushes and after firing the figures in the kiln she brings em home and paints em. She’s even given me a few, though when your mom makes you an incense holder with a nekked chick on it, you just take the muthafucker and back away slowly. But I dig it and it matches my décor.

Anyway I’m looking around at all the figures when it hits me. This is my mother’s fetish. This is what gets her off. Some people dress up in drag; some beat each other with whips and some tape the neighbors’ stinkfingering their pets. But my mother’s fetish is making these cheerful little clay figures and sticking them all over the house. Is there a name for that? Potteryphile maybe?

After I got home I watched a couple of DVD’s I rented. The first one was the “Sum of all Fears” by Tom Clancy. I’d read the book some months earlier and it really peaked my interest and all that. I’m not usually a fan of intrigue and mystery and shit but Tom writes the shit in such a way that when you’re done reading you’re glad to be alive and shit. (did I actually use the word “shit” three times in one sentence?) I was hyped to see the movie so I made some tuna salad sandwiches and got all comfy and shit in front of the TV.

I’m not a huge fan of Affleck but Morgan Freeman is one of the baddest muthafucker’s in the house, so that made it better. One of the opening scenes in the movie cracked me up to some degree. They showed a satellite image of this mountain top compound and I said to myself, “fuck, I know that place”. It was fuckin Mt. Weather in fuckin West Virginia. Hell, I’ve been there bunches of times for training and all that. After all, Mt. Weather is one of the MAN’s facilities, and it’s all that and a bag of chips if you get my drift so that was kind’a cool to see.

I enjoyed the movie except for the issue in that for most of the movie they made the Jack Ryan character into this vapid fem little pussie who couldn’t clean his own ass without help. He’s running around trying to assert himself and everybody and their mother is telling him to fuck off. If it wasn’t for the fact that they made a big issue of showing Ryan rippin off a piece of ass early in the film they could’a called it the gayest sum of all fears. But all in all it was ok.

After that I watched the much-hyped “Spiderman”. I’m what you would call a casual comic book fan at best. When I was younger I read all the greats and tried to keep up with current trends but I’m in no way a fanboy or anything like that. But I am a fan of a good action story and well-drawn and scripted character’s. And of course having the fuckin thing directed by Sam Raimi rocked. After all this is the man who put out the Army of Darkness amongst others and produced the Hercules and Xena television series.

But let’s see, how did the characters stand on their own? Toby Maguire made for a believable Peter Parker/Spiderman but I didn’t like the way he treated Aunt May and his uncle. Until Spiderman I’d never heard of the muthafucker. Willem Defoe as the Green Goblin was a great choice. Defoe’s such a crazy fuck in the first place and he really is a case study of dual personalities going apeshit. Kirsten Dunst has a nice rack and pulls off the dirty little waitress uniform like a muthafucker. And she looks great wet. So I enjoyed the movie and most likely will see it again.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

cheesecake

I won't hurt a bit

best quote from a blogger today......

"Have you ever been to bed with a nurse? Got-Dam! They not only are as hot as a red pepper, they all give good back-rubs, too. They drink like fish and fuck like minks. I think that comes from working around dying people all the time"

I copped this off Rob's site Gutrumbles, and since I happen to have more then a few nurses as readers I had to throw this up. Since I of course am a firm believer that nurses (cough cough look to the left)rock.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

a few things about me

After I wake up in the morning I lay there for at least ten minutes doing a body check. Please don’t ask me what I’m checkin for. I love old musicals. I’m a trivia freak. I know more about nothing then most folk. At one time in my life most of my peer group was made up of pimps, musicians and drug dealers. I’ve been shot at twice, cut more then once and had my right eye stabbed out in a bar fight. I think hookers are highly misunderstood.

I cried when as a kid I found out that you couldn’t believe everything you read. Monster movies scare me, Stephen King books scare me, and horror movies scare me. I dream about everything I see on TV or read. I’m smarter then I look, I’ve passed the tests to join at least two high IQ clubs but I don’t see the need especially since the muthafuckers want money. Dogs and cats think I’m one of them. I still miss my cat after all these years and can't bring myself to get another one.

I don’t like talking on the phone cause my attention starts to wonder. I have a serious problem remembering names, but I can recognize a person from five hundred yards away just from watching the way they walk. The dumbest thing I’ve ever done was to sell my house. I hate high fives. Just because I’m not smiling doesn’t mean I’m in a bad mood and I find happy people off-putting.

I started bouncing in bars to prove to myself that I was as tough as my father. I’ve been in over seven thousand violent incidents working in bars during a twenty year period where serious physicality was involved. I still feel bad about people I’ve hurt in bars. I hate boxing. I hate seeing people hurting themselves. I was once accused of being a warlock. I’ve been accused of being involved in porn. I’ve been accused of being a nark. I almost became a pro wrestler in the eighties. I once jumped off a second story balcony to see what it felt like. I’m shy. I very seldom lie and if I do it’s only to keep people from being hurt. I’m insanely trustworthy. They wouldn’t let me in the Cub Scouts as a kid because I was black.

And you know what else? I miss seeing the hooker’s hanging out On Main Street here in Midtown. That used to be the fun thing about driving up and down Main, seeing all the different types of hookers out working the trade. Did you know that hooker’s only worked one side of the street? Yeah, as a norm it was always the east side of Main. And did you also know that there are only two jobs where the pay has increased less then ten percent over the past fifty years? You guessed it, being a ho and a local musician. Which brings to mind, what do hookers and local musicians have in common? They both get fucked for a living! Hah, hah, I fuckin kill myself sometimes.

But seriously folks, for years when I still lived at home my father would always kid me that when I moved out I would set up in the red light part of town and start hanging out with hookers. And wouldn't you kmow I met my first hooker when I was still in high school. I had this part time after school job working as a gas jockey deep in the hood. And one day I was out on the drive fuckin around when this chick walked up and asked me if I wanted to go on a date. Now I was flattered as all get out and I said sure, why not. That’s when she said cool; we could go to the back of the building or the bathroom or even in my car.

That’s when my boss walked out and screamed at my slow ass to stop messing with that ho. He told me later that she was a regular on the block and her name was Kitkat. Why Kitkat I asked, he told me it was because her tongue was like a cats. I was to later find out that it was raspy like a cat’s tongue, but that’s another story. Driving up and down Main watching the hookers was a pleasant diversion, and I don’t know about other cities but here in Kansas City the hookers had a hard time dealing with rejection.

You’d be in the car driving past two or three standing on the curb and one of em would holler out, “hey, you wanna date”? And after hearing no it’ll change to “why the fuck not”, and half the time the bitch would start running after your fuckin car. Then there were the ¾ hookers. These were the hooker’s that were still sporting the moose knuckle downstairs, but had the rack upstairs. Sometimes it was hard to tell but the five o’clock shadow usually narked em out. And don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m obsessed with hookers it’s just that seeing em all the time was as natural as breathing it seemed. Plus they can be some of the nicest people.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

doing the breast stroke in a sea of stupidity

One of the truest swear-to-god I know that’s right quotes of the week.

“life is tough, but it’s tougher when you’re stupid”

John Wayne

Funny sign on the side of a farm building on I-70 read, “Live Nude Bait”. I needed a chuckle after spending a couple of hour’s driving amongst the living dead on I-70. Freeway driving is pure proof that witless assholes run in packs. If one dickless pillow screamer drives one way then you got ten other cocksuckers doing the same shit. And don’t let me start in on the little cock-puppets driving to and fro. I’m fixin to pass this cat in front of me and I wait for the chick in my left lane to pass. As soon as she does I hit my blinker and pull over only to slam on the brakes cause these two fuckwhats decide to have a conversation with each other at sixty fuckin miles an fuckin hour!

This little cumguzzler has reached over and rolled her passenger window down and is talking to him thru his window. I got so pissed I almost opened the van door and stepped out. If that ain’t the stupidest shit then I don’t know what the fuck is. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Whew, got a little lightheaded there. But besides driving amongst the infirm it was cool seeing all the biker’s headed up north to Sturgis for the bike run. That’s a long assed ride to be on two wheels, but it looks like a shit load of fun.

I’ve always dug bikers, if they like you they treat you like family but if they don’t then you’re fucked. The only downside I’ve found to hanging with em is that you’d better be prepared to play, cause when they play they play rough. I used to hang with some biker chicks back in the day. One of em had the greatest gimmick; she would pour hot wax on her tits then set her nipples on fire then windmill the whole tittielicious mess. If memory serves me correct, that’s the same bunch I was with when I learned how wrong shit can go when you do flaming shots of 101 with a full beard. Yeah, you know what happened. Live and learn baby! Good times, good times.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

Zatoichi

I was just witness to what had to be in my eyes one of the oddest but entertaining Japanese samurai movies I think I’ve ever seen. It had blind masters, very traditional Japanese characters, fuck loads of great fight scenes, buckets of geysering blood, and fuckin Broadway dance scenes?








It was called Zatoichi, and it rocked. It was one of those rare jewels that you happen upon whilst flipping thru cable. Like the musical “Puss in Boots” made in the late eighties starring Christopher Walken that no one but me seems to have seen.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

grammy

twenny dollar make ya holler
I’m tapped out, can’t think, burnt out, suffering from serious slackitude, feeling very Minnesota as of late. Maybe I’ll sell all my shit and buy a backpack and travel the country. I donno, fuckin a few hookers sounds good? That’s it, I’ll sell all my shit and travel the country fucking hookers and bumming it up.

Except that if I fucked nothing but hookers that’ll be kind’a expensive wouldn’t it? Plus wouldn’t hookers I meet on the road stink like a muthafucker? Also there’s that whole spandex slash cameltoe thing I’d have to deal with. You know I actually saw a chick band on the TV this weekend where they all wore the white pants with the giant cameltoe inserts? Chick be beating the crap out of her bass and suddenly she’d throw her foot up on her monitor and there it was. This giant protruding over exaggerated cameltoe. Muthafucker had to be what, six, eight inches from tip to taint? That’s when I noticed that all the girls in the band had em. Scared the fuck out’a the kids it did.

It would be my luck to walk into some roadhouse whilst traveling the country and it’ll be full of old hookers sporting the giant cameltoe. Too much shit like that make a man find religion real fuckin quick. Giant cameltoe’s and grandma titties. You all know grandma titties right? Their the titties that don’t show up unless you look at the waist, cause that’s where they’re usually hanging. Big ole dangling grandma titties just swinging to a fro, “swing low, sweet chariot”. Except that nobodies coming to carry me home, cause I’m running the fuck out of the bar.

Whew, all this talk of giant cameltoes and grandma titties brings to mind a story. See back in the day there was this old woman that lived on our street. She was real big with the chain smoking and was always referring to all the kids as honey this or baby that. One morning I’m out in the yard mowing the grass and talking with one of my buddies that lived up the street when she came to her door and hollers out, “could one of you babies bring me the paper?” Me and my buddy run and grab her newspaper from out in the front yard.

We get to the door and stop shell-shocked dead in our tracks. She’s standing in her doorway wearing nothing but this sheer blue negligee. Here’s the picture, and remember that we were kids back then. We had talked about the pussy and bragged about the pussy but none of us had ever had the pussy. But in front of us was what had to be the hairiest pussy in the fuckin world.

Looked like her pussy had swallowed Tito Jackson feet first and shit. And swaying just above the pussy were these huge grandma titties. The sight of em must’a froze in the back of my head somewhere. Cause every blue moon I’ll have a nightmare about being chased by these huge floating grandma titties. No matter where I try to hide they always seem to find me, and I wake up drenched in sweat cause I can’t get away from the wretched grandma titties.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

my weekend in two hundred words or less

Went home Friday after work with the intention of watching the Sci-Fi Channel. Got a call from the Hurricane that I was needed there, when I arrived I found a young couple waiting to see me. I found out they wanted me to marry them but I told em I had to think it over. Don’t really know em and marrying someone’s a heavy thing not to be taken lightly.

Later that night I read the Hurricane’s new dress code that was being posted all over the bar. The muthafucker might as well say “all blacks keep out”. It’s that fucked up. I know where they’re coming from and that they want to keep the shit down, but it’s still fucked up.

I felt so disgusted that I split to my pal Steve Tulipana’s new bar, Malloy Bros, soon to be the Record Bar. Hung out with his wife and some of her friends and chatted up Steve for a while. It felt real good seeing one of my good friends doing it for himself. Saturday I never woke up. Sunday I did wake up and went to the Broadway Café for a few iced coffees.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

sweatin the small stuff

The MAN in his oh so wise way has decided to move our regional headquarters (where I currently reside) to the other side of town, and has laid upon me a bunch of brain splitting, eyeball drying out, telephone smashing, using my outside voice more then I should, tasks. Hmmm, so as a result I’ve been very busy at work and when I get home all I’ve wanted to do is sit nekked in the dark squatted upon my hunches rocking back and forth like a retard in the back seat of a car. So bare with me if my shit has seemed cobbled together or I’ve been robbing the archives too much. I’ve been busy bitches. But let’s see if my many inside sources can throw together an edition of “sweatin the small stuff”.


From the “look at this muthafucker here” department……..

comes a story of why some of us don’t mind paying for cable. Cause you think you’ve been around a while and seen most near everything, but deep in your heart you know there are certain things missing. Well the other night I found one of those things. The real man’s channel “The Learning Channel” was showing a special on Contortionists. I had to tape my mouth shut cause my jaw kept dropping open. It was one of these shows where I wanted to call every man (and a few women) I knew and go; “you muthafuckers gots to see this shit”.

From some of my many inside sources, I found out that some of the top contortionists can bend their spines backwards at over 180 degrees? The average gip off the street can maybe do only seven so it’s no wonder that most men dream about female acrobats. Just thinking of fucking some of these people will make your head pop off from the pressure. But who the fuck am I kidding huh? If one of these chicks got nekked in front of me and said come and get it, I’d have to break into a run. Yeah as in runnin the other direction.

Did you also know that where most of our spines are mostly semi rigid, the spine of top contortionists after years of training since birth will have the suppleness of a stiff piece of rope? And that most of the top folks in this profession are from Mongolia. I used to have a stripper roommate that could pop both her ankles behind her neck, I used to think that was the shit until I saw that show but now I know some shit. What the hell is it about a limber woman that sets a man’s teeth to chattering?

The show said the funniest thing; “most contortionists can make a fair living by being photographed for fashion shoots”. Then they showed a couple of female contortionists being photographed by a bunch of old men, Oh yeah, that looked like a “fashion shoot” to me. If those were “fashion photographers” then I’ll be runnin that four minute mile. But the special showed that they had a sense of humor about the whole thing when they interviewed a woman on her way to do a corporate show. She said; “what? A roomful of men between twenty-five and fifty, and me bending in small clothes? Oh yeah, money in the bank”.




From the “class, class, CLASS!!!!” department……..

comes a story close to my heart. There’s been a growing issue concerning the problem of plagiarism amongst the high school crowd. One teacher caught half her class doing that shit and she flunked their stinkin asses. But the local school board over ruled her and reinstated the little cocksuckers grades. In protest she told em lick her ass and she quit the gig. Now with it being a true fact that a good teacher is all that stands between Muffy getting far in life or buffshinin some cat’s cock for a living, I’ll stand with the teachers any day.

But then again most muthafuckers ain’t got an original thought in their fuckin heads anyway. It’s like watching a fuckin herd of stinkin sheep. If one goes right they all go to the right. If one starts licking another sheep’s balls, soon enough all the furry fuckers are tonguing wooly nut sacs. Baaaing little bitches. It makes me sick to my gut to see shit like that. But if you look towards the end of the field there’s always a lone sheep hanging by him or herself. Just watching the ball licking antics of the others and absently wondering what’s over the next hill refusing to be satisfied with licking nuts or runnin around in circles like all the others.

That’s right little sheep; break out on your own! Run, fly like the northern wind. Go where your little wooly heart takes you. Don’t bow down to the stinkin fuckin masses. That’s your coat. You keep it! Knock down that guy coming at you with the shears and put it in his ass like the big sheep you are, that’s right baby! Baa! Baa! Baa! Be the man that stands up to the MAN!




And I’ll shut this down with a few random thoughts that me and some of the many inside sources have been tossing around

Water found underground on Mars, duh? Anybody with a brain knows that ever since the Great War all Martians live underground. Well, except for the canyon dwellers. Just ask John Carter.

Don’t be putting the retards on the rollercoaster’s. What? You think that’s gonna make em feel special? I guess you do until they figure out how to undo the fuckin seat restraint and die.

Shiva will bring on the long darkness.

Bush thought that the movie “Sum of all fears” gives up too much information to the wrong people. Fuck, he ought’a be watching the fuckin CNN. With all their so called “insightful” news reports about what if’s and other such shit, if the stinkin terrorist don’t think of it by themselves, CNN will think of it for em.

And people who think they’re the fuckin shit but in reality aren’t worth the spittle off my balls can go gleefully into the darkness fucking themselves. Who gave them the right to lord over people like it’s their God fuckin right! There’s a special dark room in my head for these types of people and the muthafuckin key don’t work!

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

best quote from a commenter

Curmudgeon
I have much interest in space exploration and enjoy seeing all the pictures and shit coming from Mars. But if I hear one of them fuckers say "More possible evidence Mars once had water on it..." I'm going to bend my legs up behind my ears and bite my own balls. I'm getting quite sick of it.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

do you hear it?

It makes you wonder doesn’t it, you know, who’s crazy and who isn’t? Pick up the paper and every day there are stories about people who plead insanity to escape some heinous crime they committed. Then you got the courts who parade expert after expert who supposedly have the know-how to determine if that person is insane or not. In my opinion it’s just that person trying not to take responsibility for their actions.

We’re all a bit crazy in one way or other, like the cat who invented the atomic bomb, musicians, artist, the man who built the first laser, any inventor. Any talented individual who takes an idea or action to the farthest extreme can be considered crazy. These are people who do not or will not think normal. And they have that one common theme; they’ve all been called crazy by their peers. I think that the only thing that separates them from all the others is that they tend to listen to the voices in their heads. Hell, I do.

The voices in my head get so loud at times that no amount of whisky will make em settle down, and that’s the difference, between so-called crazy and so-called sane. We all have that dominate voice in our head that tells us what to do. Hmmm, do I want cheese fries or cheese burgers? Why am I sitting here reading this crap when I could be watching the Teletubbies? This is the voice that most of us hear on a daily basis. You might have also heard it called the voice of reason.

Then there are those of us who hear many voices.

“You need to push that punk in front of the bus”!

“You know you got the skills to build that set of flying shoes you always wanted”

“Dude! You can rob this bank. Just run in and cap some old people and take the money and run! Nobody gonna know it’s you under that mask”

The secret is knowing which voice not to listen too. But look at you muthafuckers; you’re all sitting out there feeling smug and safe in your saneness, thinking what a line of shit Greg’s talking.

But think back to the last time some asshole cut you off in traffic, the voice said

“pull up next to the car and roll down your window and flip em off”

You found yourself doing it didn’t you? And you found that your heart was pumping and you got a rush off it. You dug doing what the voices said; and you wanted the voices to come back, again and again.

And they did till one day you looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the eyes looking back. But the familiar voice was still there. But this time it’s really loud and saying

“look under your bed, you’ll find a gun and a mask. Remember that asshole in traffic that flipped you off last week? Well baby its come get some time cause we know where he works, we know where they all work”!

The voice says

“don’t sweat it; I’ll talk you thru it. It’s gonna be ok”

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

tea baggin, hotdogs & slappin it up

Quote of the week.

"It made me sick, kids putting penises on other kids' heads? What does that do for a child's manhood?"

This is from the father of a fifteen year old kid in Philly who’d had his head shaved and was “tea-bagged” by some of his teammates. You know what? Years from now when this little fist-fucker’s all grown up and goes on a maniacal killing rampage where he cuts the cocks off his victims as trophies, they’ll be able to point way back to this tea-bagging incident as a kid to where it all went sour.

This is another fucked up example of how hard some kids have it. It’s bad enough being a teenager trying to make it thru high school all smelling like muddbutt and shit cause your stinkin ass won’t shower after PE class cause you’re sexually immature and scared to show your nekked ass in the shower. Your acne looks like road rash and your fuckin braces are pickin up radio talk shows, so now all you hear is Paul Harvey’s old ass during the day and you’ve become grandpa’s new best friend because if it.

The closest you get to pussy is your cat, and your old man’s down on you cause you’re sporting eyeliner and black fingernail polish, like some little Goth freak. And now your mom caught you punchin the monkey this morning when she went up to wake you up for school and now she’s all freaked out and shit and gone and made an appointment with Father Grabass up at the church to talk to you.

And now to top the whole muthafuckin bullshit heap off, some of the football team caught you smoking in the locker room during practice and after holding you down in the shower and shaving your fuckin head they spent the next ten minutes doing this fucked up porn star shit smacking you across the face with their cocks like you was their bitch and shit! And now your tea-baggin story is all over the fuckin school and you’re forced to move to another school to escape the stinkin ridicule.

But it’s too late, the new school knows what happened, the entire church where your family prays knows and last night someone covered your mom’s car with wet tea bags as some kind of fucked up joke. Your whole stinkin life as a teenager has just gone swirling down the crapper, but it could be worse right? But hey we were all kids at one time or another so we know the deal.

Speaking of being kids, do any of you remember back to when we were all younger and just discovering our bodies and shit for the first time? And you experienced masturbation for the very first time and after that you had to find all the ways to do it? Some of us were like masturbatory monkeys we hit it so hard. I can remember back in the day if I stayed in the bathroom too long my father would holler at me to unass the fuckin bathroom and stop playing with myself.

When I was a kid the hot things to masturbate too were my father’s old Playboy’s or Benny Hill on the TV, but you had to be cool so that your mother wouldn’t catch you. But even though you thought they didn’t know, they knew that you were a jackin off little fool. Mother’s were always complaining; “but honey, can’t we make him stop? Maybe more church would help”. But the old man would always tell her to shut the fuck up, that boys will be boys and shit. Except when it was little sis shoving things up her kooch then the tables would be turned.

You’d be hanging out on the porch with your boys when John John’s little sister would come out on the porch buck nekked with a hotdog hanging out of her pussy sayin; “look I got a pee pee too”! And inside the house you could hear her mother screaming “oh my god, get that child back in the house”! While on the porch we were rollin and laughing till we shit ourselves.

Silly shit like that was always going on, like the time I got hit in the nuts for the very first time. All I knew after that was that someone else had to experience the same pain I did. So I called my best friend over and walked up and slapshotted him in the balls. After that, seeing someone get hit in the sac was the funniest thing ever, until it happened to you again.

And there was always an older kid on the block who’d had his cherry busted at an early age. And he would always hold court testifying on how much pussy he’d just gotten since yesterday. If we was to believe half what he said, girls would just fold up and throw the pussy at em like rice at a wedding. Then there was the local slut who lived on the block. She was usually good for getting a tittie shot when she got bored. Was there such a thing as a hot looking slut back in those days, or were they all mule ass ugly like our’s was?

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

my bad

I talk about the MAN all the time but I found out last week how rough the MAN can get. I’m blowing thru my workday cause it’s Friday and things usually run slow unless there’s shit going on, so the end of the workweek is usually a fairly easy day. The morning goes and the afternoon rolls in and I get this piece of express mail handed to me. It’s a bigass envelope marked with my name and shit so I sign for it with no second thought and proceed to open it up.

Cause I’m a freak by nature and paranoid to boot I use a razor knife to slit the envelope open. But inside that envelope is another envelope with both ends wrapped in masking tape, but my name’s on that muthafucker too so I slit that one open. Inside that one is a smaller envelope so I slit that one open. I’m still thinking nothing of it because as a logistics officer I’m always getting things sent to me all wrapped the fuck up and shit. Inside I see a big folder and a CD in a jewel case; so I shake out the CD and in huge red letters on the front of it are the words

“TOP SECRET”

Now as a minion for the MAN I generally don’t get shit marked like that, so I threw the CD back in and went to the Director of my division and said, “what the fuck is this”? Well, to put it lightly he pulled a huge freak on me. “What the fuck are you doing opening up TOP SECRET documents? After I explained to him that my name was all over the muthafucker he calmed down a small bit but still had both his feet in my ass.

It ended up that the shit was TOP SECRET but it should have never come to me, and it seemed that somebody up the line in DC had made a grievous mistake and put my name on it. I more or less had to give a deposition to three different OFFICIALS and explain why I opened the package. But I’m not off the hook yet; next week I might have to explain to some security cat from headquarters what happened and still might get my ass wrung even more. But this ain’t shit compared to what happens to the stupid bastard that mistakenly put my name on it in the first place, cause he’s gonna get ass-fucked like some ho in a back ally.

I told the Director that I’m easy to find on the weekends if he needs me and of course he said; “they know where you’re at after six on Fridays”. Then he pulled a paper from his pocket and read the address and number of the Hurricane to me. I should have known by now that the MAN is omnipresent, and probably reads this fuckin site. But last I checked this is still America and freedom of speech is still my right, even though I toil for you know whom. “I fuckin hope”

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

happy happy joy joy

hey Ren, can I have her? Pleaaaassseeeeeeeeeeee!


Can I just break in here and say how much I enjoy looking at the picture I posted at the top of “sweatin the small stuff” for July 29? I don’t know what it is but every time I look at her I can’t help but get a smile on my face. Is it her shy smile or the bright textured background or her playful altitude? I just can’t put my finger on it.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"