Archive for the 'Fuckoff' Category



Venice Beach: The Freakshow

As i have visited californ-i-a twice now and long to join me fellow scallywags in their pirate adventures in la la land, i feel a tribute to their base is in order.  well, i have been to many parts of the city including the four parts jp has seen in his two years there. 

dodger stadium is sweet, but roasts in the desert mountains.  roughty, make sure you bring your spf 75 and slob it on with every pitching change, which will most likely be every inning as both clubs will sorely mistaken their inadequate rotations and bullpens with fatigue, weather, or some other ludicrous excuse. 

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East L.A. and the DR:

Sweet as well.  I feel suit will find a home in the drawing room and the relative diversity in relation to the rest of la in the former paradise that stoney called home.  you must absolutely show the former kingdom in all its glory and cold showers.  this was the first place i found in my visits to la with true, unsuperficial culture.  remember my 4:00 am walkabout in search of a sip of any liquid in my half drunken, half hungover stupor as stoney had neither drink nor refrigeration.  i walked at least 7 blocks to be dissapointed by powered down vending machines that i had to beg the grocery store owner to turn on to get an orange soda that t and i shared (what up, t) .  on my ramble i encountered at least two hookers with one clearly disguising a dick.  my day consisted of walking around east la and eating gut bombs for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  i was happy to escape my previous experiences of yuppiness disguised in kewlness. 

hollywierd:

weird and extemely superficial with a bunch of douches disguised as hipsters and guns and roses impersonators. 

venice:

i was accurately described by lady t the wonderous freak show that is venice beach.  of course we were all fucked up and noided out, so we sat at the public bathroom and gazed out upon the circus.  there was definitely a small degree of reality here in their rejection of superficiality, but their conscious objection seemed superficial in itself.  of course i am superficial as hell, especially then and enjoyed pretending to be normal for a minute, despite my schizoid drug induced psychotic personality disorder’s ‘outside looking in’ perspective.  there is culture there that is not completely obsessed with the image driven falsity of the rest of la. 

the rest of la:

gay and expensive, but worth seeing for the experience

stoney’s debaucherous court of self-destruction:

 one of a kind as always and enjoyable beyond any measure.   

a lonely wish:

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where’s waldo? hint, short bags that were still a deal

The Guillotine? Please, Biatch

I’ve got one hand to type with, so it won;t be much.  My one hand however will blow your proverbial loads with the profundity of my blogging wizardry.  just returned from afar and am currently ‘sojourning in society’ (name that author) to the desperate delight of all you unsavage settled society sinners.  in this jingle jangle morning without a tambourine i am inspired to waste more space on the blog.  in my absence and natural objective disconnection combined with a previous feeling i must say we have all become lazy.  we have relied on pictures to glitter our stories with extra sensory excitement.  with that said, here’s some of that…

For all of us Americans.  Yippee kay yay motherfuckers.  oh yeah, james marshall served in the 101st till he broke his leg on a jump.  Currahee! i know i celebrated in true american fashion on white man don’t pay your taxes day–i blew shit up.

p.s.  i’m just going to start Dankknuggets’s weekly music video.  it will however be more like whenever i get to it and i’ll prolly get tired after like three.  oh, zack kim is retroactively part of this mini series, so i guess there’s one left.  well, here goes…

p.s.s. just cause i’ve been out of contact for awhile– roughty, you’re a bitch.  and who the hell is gn?  and once again, roughty, you’re a bitch. 

 check below too, related but not the same.

politics, religion, et cetera… . .. . … .. …. .. …. .. . .

(those periods are for you, stonesylvania.) 

i have been delinquent lately and didn’t know about either of stoney’s  guys’ debauchery.  i wish i had, but politics is boring — even when it deals with blowww and hookers.  i won’t vote for this guy any more now than i would have before i knew about the drugs and sex.  until i meet a politician who will look you in the eye and say he’s never made a mistake and he never plans to make one,  i’ll be fairly convinced i could do a better job governing myself than any of them could.  i mean, jiuliani (or “orange” [in honor of his boy’s huge nose candy purchase] julius as i will call him from this day forward) doesn’t even know me.  how the shit is he supposed to know what decisions are in my best interest?  in the old days, way on back in the days of grunting, beards and hunter/gatherers, people would form a society to protect themselves from other societies (not to mention the ravenous sabre-tooth tigers, mastadons, etc.).  i’m sure at the beginning of society, some guy was laying out, chilling in the cut, maybe reading a playboy and minding his own bidness, and the tribe leader said to him, “glork, you better get that firewood.  the rest of us are counting on your lazy ass.”  and glork was thinking, “damn, it was so much better when i could do whatever the hell i wanted to do without all these dicks bossing me all the time.”  but you know what glork did?  he collected the wood.  because he needed the protection that could only be afforded by the society.  nowadays, people don’t think like that, in my opinion.  nowadays, people simply accept the fact that they were born into a society, and so that must be the best place for them to be.  i stand that this is simply no longer the case.  man has tamed the shit out of nature.  we don’t have anything to worry about except snake bites and the occasional shark attack.  furthermore, no human cares enough about me to attack me.  what the shit would they even do that for?  waste of a bullet.  i won’t attack them either.  i can grow shit in my back yard and eat dogs and cats and squirrels and shit if it really comes right down to it.  no reason for me to mess with anyone.  my point?  glad you asked.  society is no longer the same shizzazzle it was back in the day.  individuals don’t really need to protection of a huge gov’t.  besides, when people did need such protection — take hurricane katrina, for instance — where the fuck was our great society?  thumb up the ass, watching the weather channel and drinking beer, wondering where the hell they’d move mardi gras to… and that was george w.  that proves (for me anyways) that society can no longer perform its primary function — protection of its members.  that’s the main reason why i haven’t, don’t and won’t vote.  you be asking yourself, “well then suit, why don’t you just LEAVE and do your own thing if you don’t like the american way?”  well, this is a good point.  i wonder this about myself sometimes, too.  i think it comes down to this.  i gotta get mine.  if i left right now, i’d be broke before i got to a place where i could really do my own thing for real.  you gotta have money to make a real move.  hence, the master plan — participate in society to as minimal a degree as is practicable until i save up some real green.  then, peace out.  merc on to someplace where i can do my own thing without worrying about what anybody says.  part of this minimal participation is making it a priority to not vote.  voting would lock me in.  i would start to follow this shitstem and never be able to break out. 

(ps — when you register to vote, you also have to fill out a draft card.  i knew this was a shitty idea when i was in high school, and so i didn’t fill out the shit.  therefore, i am registered for neither voting nor slaughtering brown people.) ((pps — the gov’t teacher in 12th grade tried to fail me for for not filling out the form, but i aced all her tests, so she didn’t have a leg to stand on.))

as far as breeding terrorism, i’m either too stupid or too smart to question the fact that all politicians have spin doctors (and i don’t mean the “2 princes” spin doctors).  to reference a simile i made earlier, discussing politics is like going all in on a blind hand of poker.  doesn’t make any sense because you know neither what you have nor what your opponents have in their hands.  all i know is this:  the golden rule is faulty.  “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”  if we hurt the arabs, then we deserve to get sliced a bit, right?  it’s the golden rule, after all.  if arabs did bad things to us, they deserve to get bombed, too, right?  it is in the golden rule.  but then what?  people all know the golden rule, yet bad stuff keeps happening.  if people keep “doing unto others” based on what has been “done unto [them]”, we’ll all be fucking DEAD!  this is not what i consider a good time.  the golden rule doesn’t work.  it just breeds recursive murder wars.  neither the victor nor the loser is ever happy.  everyone’s still got a bone to pick, and the killing continues.  here’s what i propose.  throw out the golden rule.  adopt another rule.  how about the one jesus came up with?  how about “turn the other cheek”? how about “love thine enemy”?  i mean, america is a judeo-christian nation, right?  it says so right on the money.  that means we all believe in heaven, right?  that means that what we do down here makes no difference in the big picture, right?  sure.  because heaven is eternal, but life on earth is “but a blink of the eye.”  that means, if some asshole wants to shoot us, who cares?  they’ll go to hell, and we’ll be laughing our balls off, playing hop-scotch with john lennon in heaven.  fuck this killing.  for real.  i am over it all for real.  a guy from my high school just got killed.  i was a total ass to him (roids, teenage hormones, popularity… you know), and now i will never be able apologize or slap him a high five and come back on the flip side.  it’s fucked up for real.  and the worst part — he thought he was doing right by his country!  sad sad scene.

so, any of you who have made it through this post are all stupider for having read it.  i award you no points, and may god have mercy on your souls. 

now, go slaughter some people whose skin is darker than your own!!  before they do it to you first.

and don’t forget to vote.  in fact, vote three times.  keep on voting and voting until you cast a fat, brown ballot in your pants.

Fucking weekends

Fuck weekends.  Mostly because I don’t have weekends like you 9-5ers.  Apparently people still need to eat on the weekends, so I have to work.  However there can be a bright spot, such as today.  All day today, a downtown pub has free pool and $4 pitchers of all beer.  I’m sold.  “I spend my cash and time with grass and wine.” 

If anyone can tell me what song that lyric is from, I will be quite impressed.

I will be back tomorrow, for now, it is time to spread some Irish ruggedness.

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And some Irish charm.

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Richmond doesn’t even know what’s going to hit it.

P.S. That last picture is in response to your request Suit.

Jeep owners, listen up

If you, or someone you know owns a Jeep, you will know of this phenomenon.  I drive a Jeep Wrangler, Sahara edition. 

 

Apparently my vehicle is savage enough to ravage the dunes of the world’s largest desert.  There are many Jeeps on the road, and as I motor along, whenever I pass one, the driver waves at me.  I hate this unspoken code between Jeep owners.  I do not feel as though I am part of a brotherhood.  It is not exactly an exclusive club, nor is it difficult to become a member.  All you have to do is go to your local dealer with a sweaty fist of cash, and say, “Give me a Jeep”.

  

I don’t drive a Jeep to constantly wave at assholes.  I got a Jeep to navigate playgrounds, make pretty ladies swoon, and to run over dangerous or delicious animals.  Quit waving at me, I am not friendly, and you are most likely a douchebag.

American Rock = The Blood of the Universe

Before I start, I want to mention that I did not include Pink Floyd in the Brit bands. Pink Floyd is classic, but never one of my loves. Pink Floyd, I forgot about you, but I don’t really care that much. Sorry.

The broad scope of American rock makes it hard for me to pinpoint any one thing, or to focus too long on anything. This is going to be a whambamthankyoumam kind of thing.

First, Elvis. Elvis is the fucking King of Rock and Roll. There is no other king. Chuck Berry is there too, but Chuck Berry is not the King of Rock and Roll. Elvis is the King. Without Elvis, I don’t know what would have happened. We would probably have an Elvis with a different name. Elvis, as a red-blooded American rock student, I salute you.

The 27 Club. The 27 Club is an exclusive club, reserved only for rockers who achieve amazing, superstar status through the exceptional qualities of their polyphonic debris. 27 Club members all died when they were 27, at the height of their fame. Most of the deaths can be linked directly to over-consumption of drugs, or a very closely related factor.

These people did not get rich and internationally famous because of their connections, their pretty face, their money, or any other thing than how badass they were at rocking the fuck out.

There are 5 member of the 27 club. Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Brian Jones and Kurt Kobain. How many Brits are in this infamous list, the sealed stamp of approval of rockstar god status? 1. Uno. Un. One. The ratio of Brits to Americans in this most critical list is 1:4, and that ratio plays itself out all over the place.

Is it wrong to base my decision on a list of musicians that glorifies a fiery death through rock and roll? No. Rock and Roll is a force of nature, a force unto itself, a mythical beast which exerts an enormous influence on the way people perceive and act upon the world. The thing about rock and roll is, it’s not even subliminal. These people are singing songs to us, lyricizing our deepest fears and desires, using everything that they have experienced to create a new experience for us. And we willingly buy (or steal online) these people’s souls, the product of an extraordinary effort of introspection, and then projection. It is a transcendent experience to listen to a live performance of rock; “a more perfect union” can be achieved, which is not all that different from doing the nasty.

Rock and Roll is a form of art, but it is also a form of religion. I, for one, deeply believe in the power of rock and roll, and the feelings and sentiments the music can inspire. Rock and Roll has changed my real-world actions before, it has pushed itself into my life and into the lives of the people around me. I am better for it, too.

When John Lennon said, “The Beatles are bigger than Jesus,” he was fucking right. There were, and still are, more people creating a more personal, intimate, transcendent relationship with their chosen rocker, than there are people creating those same types of relationships with Jesus. If you go to church and daze off, or do whatever, that doesn’t count, and I know it, and Jesus knows it. When you go to a real rock show, and something hits you in the stomach, you choke up, you tear up…you are having a fucking experience that can never be achieved again, ever, by anyone. It was your show, the band is on for you, and if you do it right, you can come away with something that is more than just a light show or magic show. It is a religious experience.

Now that I have established that rock and roll is a religion, I move on. Every religion needs a sacrificial lamb. The Gods of Rock are not a mellow breed. They do not take kindly to negligence. They need blood, and that’s what American rockers are here to provide. American rockers are the soul of Rock and Roll. Rock and Roll was invented here, Rock and Roll grew up here, and Rock and Roll will die here. The blues are from the deep South, via Africa, and I’m not really sure where country western is from. Mix those fuckers up, and you get some rock and roll.

I could go on. I could list band after band of American rockers, and compare them with British rockers, and see who borrowed what from who, and blabla. I’m not going to, though, because it all comes down to the fact that Rock and Roll is an American past-time, and it always will be. The altar of Rock is built on American soil, and stained with American blood.

I think that the icing on the cake is a club I kinda made up…the 28 Club. Right now, Bradley Nowell (sublime) and Shannon Hoon (blind melon) are the only two I have in there. I’m saving a spot open for Pete Doherty this year; he’ll be 29 next March.

For a sum-up, I chose Blind Melon’s song, “Galaxie.” Shannon Hoon died of a cocaine overdose, a roadie found his body in the bus, right before the band’s soundcheck.

Rock and Roll = Savage

For anyone who has shit to say about glorifying the wrong things about rock and roll, or blabla, I say, “Fuck off.” If it wasn’t about dying in the name of rock, then why aren’t there a bunch of badass rockers, making real rock and roll? They are out there, but they are few and far between. I am not lamenting the end of rock, because I believe in it too much to doubt. White Stripes, Strokes, Pete Doherty, here and there we see glimpses of eternal greatness.

There will be more.

Infinite bitching, at the 25th hour

Have you ever had one of those days when you wake up and the overwhelming feeling of a shitty day is upon you?  Of course you have, you’re human.  Well actually, 89% of our readers are human.  I had one of those mornings, just pissed off from minute one.  All the guests at work were assholes and the urge to go ape shit and call them out on their stupidity was overpowering.  But, if I did that, I would have gotten fired.  Then I wouldn’t be laying around with stacks of cash and women licking my toes.  So I surpressed the urge.

However, now that I have returned home, I believe I will vent with an Edward Norton style, “fuck you” rant that he did in, “25th Hour”.

Fuck whoever used my Jeep as their personal McDonalds dumpster.  After already waking up pissed off, this did not help my day by finding McDonalds garbage in my front seat coupled with the overwhelming stench of Egg McMuffin.

Fuck fitted sheets.  I washed my sheets yesterday, and then rage hit when I had to put them back on my bed.  If you own fitted sheets you know what I speak of.  These tease you by allowing you to get three corner on, and while trying to fit the fourth, one corner undoubtedly pops loose.  Have you ever been locked in that tug-o-war for an hour?

Fuck West Virginia.  How dare they steal a classic Toots & the Maytals song, “Take Me Home, Country Road” and use it to try and lure people to their ass backwards state.  Only, “Sublime” is allowed to cover, “Toots & the Maytals” songs.  West Virginia is the second worst state we have, Mississippi being the worst.  Mississippi is in a class on its own.  The last time I was in West Virginia, the second I crossed the border from Virginia, my olfactories were assaulted by an unnatural stench.  That stench my friends, is non savagery.

Fuck Santa Claus for not bringing me a Nintendo Wii last year.

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Fuck beer for being so god damn delicious.

For that matter, fuck people who say GD as a euphemism for god damn.  We all know what you mean assholes, it is blasphemy all the same.  You are going to Hell just like the rest of us.

Fuck jeans that are sold pre-torn.  If you want jeans that look like they have just survived a nuclear holocaust, that’s what thrift stores are for.  Not to mention they are much cheaper.  If you live a rugged life, as I do, your jeans will get ripped up through your acts of savagery.

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I can’t believe I had to go to the Abercrombie and Fitch website to find this garbage.  $398 for these jeans, are you fucking kidding me?  I would rather you use that money to invest in a lifetime supply of my homemade knuckle sandwiches. 

Fuck whoever reached our site by searching for, “bond, george dubya, bond.”  We have some weird, interesting, and sometimes downright scary searches coming into our site.  Yet, whoever typed this one needs to taste the back of my hand.

Fuck people who TyPe LiKe ThIs.  Even lobotomy patients on morphine, with crippling arthritis can type more coherently.  It’s not cute, all it does is force me to send you a virus. 

Fuck hair gel.  Yeah, we all went through a hair gel phase, when we were 5.  I don’t understand this “fashion statement” of making your hair look like you just stuck a fork in the toaster.  Girls like to run their fingers through your hair assholes, they don’t want to get their eyes poked out by your spikes.  If you use hair gel, I hate to break it to you…

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Fuck shaving everyday.  Sometimes I wish I could be like Stoney, only needing to shave once a month.  However, the 5 o’clock shadow is quite savage.  It is like your body’s internal mechanism telling you when it’s time for Happy Hour.  Fuck shaving, grow a beard, be a man.

Fuck Madden 07 for having my created character blow his ACL.  My xbox had a near miss from Hurricane Roughty last night after my guy went down.  I was a shoe-in for my unprecedented 5th straight MVP, until some non savage chopped me down at the knees.  It’s OK though, my character punched a hole in the guy’s helmet, drop kicked each ref, and took a dump on the 50 yard line as he left the field under his own power.

Fuck any mascot not named, “Mr. Met”.  All you other mascots can do your tired speils, but nobody is as hard-ass as this whiskey guzzler.

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This guy just screams, “What?  You wanna step?”  You can walk over, but you’ll be limping back.

Fuck all haters and nay-sayers.  Don’t be mad, it’s not our fault our site is infinitely excellent.  I just have one offer for you…

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Fuck all other StoneyWageSlave members for not being as savage as I.  We all know it’s true, let’s just get it out in the open.

Most of all fuck you.

Rubber Matches, Growing Up, Other Reflections and another Roll Call

the first category tag i clicked was worthless friday, cuz that’s what i’m in.  it’s fantastic.  finally some time to interact with the tech-junkies, alcoholics and weed-fiends who read this link-laden, anti-american, diaperlicious bloghole. 

has anybody noticed that politics are continuing to play a large role in our blog?!  i can’t believe that shit.  if you knew, (and most of you do), the authors, you’d be as surprised as me.  four years in the burg, and we never talked about it.  now it’s all over everything.  i think that comes along with growing older.  things we never cared about before are starting to look more and more important.  we’re all realizing our global citizenship, and i think it’s pretty encouraging.  now all we have to do is change the minds of all the fuckos in general society *(see stoney’s note about the a&f models on the airplane… these are the dipshits to whom i’m referring.) 

on another very different topic, there’s this issue going on in the baseball world.  my boy john smoltz won his 200th career decision last night.  i don’t need to remind any of you who the braves defeated.  i don’t need to tell you that they beat the metropolitans.  further, i don’t need to explain to any of you that this win brough the braves record against the mets to 6 wins and 3 losses on the season.  no, i don’t need to mention any of these things.  why am i talking about it then?  to hurt your sensitive yankee feelings?  no.  to rub salt into your still-smarting wounds from last october?  of course not.  well, i’ll tell you why.  the braves are currently recruiting new fans, and if you all have been converted over the past few days, just let me know, and i’ll be happy to provide a letter of recommendation.  no guarantees, but it’s at least a 50-50 they’ll accept you.  last night’s prodigious victory over the hated mets was a rubber match.  “what is a rubber match?” all of you except the sport-savvy roughty might be asking yourselves.  again, i’ll explain it for you.  in a 3-game series, if each team wins one of the first two games, game three is the rubber match.  in a 7-game series that’s tied at three games each, game seven is the rubber match.  check out this helpful wiki article on the topic.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rubber_match

what’s the point of this discussion? it’s not just to make fun of the sucky mets.  in fact, i want to bring it back to politics.  since i’ve been old enough to think about politics, there have been two presidents.  (during bush the elder’s administration, i didn’t understand anything at all about it.)  these presidents have been billy clinton and george dubya bush — a democrat and a republican.  in 2008, we’ll have the rubber match between these two political powerhouses.  as in sports, this rubber match will play a big role on the way our generation will be viewed.  will our generation be defined by the shitty republicans or the shitty democrats?  lord only knows.  i got a guess, but it’s just that — a guess.  so i won’t even mention it here.  in a baseball rubber match, all we can do is drink beer and root for our own version of the good guys.  last night, my team won, and i was happy.  roughty’s team lost, and i’m sure he drowned on his tears.  in politics, however, we can play the game and get involved.  we can be the shortstop who turns the double play, or we can be the asshole who lets the ball roll right between his legs.  (by the by, what team was he on again?  hahaha.)  either way, in politics, we don’t have to sit on the sidelines.  we can cast our votes and join in the action, right?  here’s the other big difference.  if i make a throwing error, and the winning run scores for the other team, the game is over and i immediately know who won.  if i hit the walk-off homer, it’s conclusive.  i’m the big winner.  with politics, it’s not so cut and dry.  i might cast my vote and be all happy for a couple years after my selected puppet wins.  then, out of nowhere, he blows some country off the map, and my walk-off homer turns into a “you-blew-it” game ending error. that’s why, when this year’s political rubber match comes along, i’ll be drinking beer and watching from the sidelines.  the punchline of this discourse — do yourself a favor and don’t vote.  vote for your favorite amer. idol.  vote for which of the stars dances best.  vote for the best apple pie you ate at the county fair.  don’t vote for the president.  you’ll invariably be sorry!

thus ends the politics of this post.

i’m still going to school.  it still sucks.  i also work at a school.  that, too, is no good.  i am trying to learn about the material required for my degree, but all i keep learning about is that everybody only cares about money.  the only question my peers and superiors ask themselves is, “how can i make the most money off this situation?”  it’s sad to think that this is the world we’re trying to earn membership into.  maybe the solution is to drop out and move to an island and try to grow coconuts for food and decorative brassieres.  my ridiculous boss’s boss’s boss’s boss volunteered me today to take part in some terrible task around the office.  my autonomy is non-existant.  i don’t decide what i do at all.  they tell me what to do, and i do it.  it’s bad for one’s psychology.  you’ve all been there.  i guess the right thing to do is just grin and bear it until retirement… in like 60 years.  one more thing about work, i had to make a presentation yesterday to a room full of suits.  i wore a rainbow colored (ambiguously androgenous) plaid shirt untucked and my oldest, rattiest pants.  i gave a great presentation.  (probably because dank wasn’t there flicking his damned zippo to distract me.)  after this, i got an email from my boss’s boss who told me that i should have dressed nicer.  this is a big old problem in our society.  why in the world do people still judge you based on the clothes you wear?  i’ll tell you.  it’s because they’re terrible idiots who don’t know any better.  and these are the people who i’m scrambling to compete with as a peer…  sad.

well, mr dank nuggets is in, so let the fun begin.  in honor of him, i’m taking this opportunity to post yet another savage roll call.  feast your eyes on the following collection:

most savage cartoon character:  Monterey Jack — he’ll whip your ass and then console you in a lovely aussie accent.

honorable mention:  Nermal — fresh off the boat from abu dhabi

least savage cartoon character:  Rita and Runt — an ill-fated space-filler in an otherwise exceptional show

most savage world leader:  Queen of Jordan — rules with an iron fist and a lovely pair of jumblies

honorable mention:  Stalin — (translation of caption:  respect the moustache.  fear the moustache.  obey the moustache.)

least savage world leader:  Jacques Chirac (someone either just snuck up him, or he was presented with a lovely quiche.)

most savage cereal mascot:  Sonny (cocoa puffs) — this guy has “junkie” written all over his face

honorable mention:  Andy Milonakis (fruity pebbles)

least savage ceareal mascot:  Tony (frosted flakes) — why don’t you find a gayer bandana.  we’re not all convinced you’re a homo yet.

most savage car model of all times:  AMC Eagle (no competition)

honorable mention:  El Camino (the original cross-over vehicle)

least savage car model of all times:  ford tempo (my first car)

most savage blogger:  suityourself (no photo available)

least savage blogger:  you (look in the mirror and recognize your inferiority.)

finally, most savage drugs:  steriods

least savage drugs:  whipits (you’ll freeze your lungs)

A Month To Go

Apparently I have about a month before I get fired. This is all very wishywashy, but my bossman does usually know what’s going to happen before it does. In conclusion, I would probably be a lot happier at another job, and I welcome the prospect, despite the necessary pain and shittiness of busting my ass for a new job.

What would I do if I got fired right now?

1. Send out resumes to different people to get a white collar job.

2. Work for my upstairs neighbor as a mover until I get a regular, panty waist of a job like I have now.

Considering I have a “month to go,” I think it would probably be wise for me to get a little job search going pre-emptively. I might even be able to quit, wouldn’t that be nice?

Fuck off Bossman. As soon as I quit or get a new job, I will probably start ripping on the people who work here and the scams that are going on, maybe cause a little ruckus. Fact is, I know a little more about the internet than I used to, and I could probably get some shit done to fuck up this place, although I would also have to toe a very fine line between truth, fiction and exposing this shitstem.

So for now, I can only dream about one thing. I want a weed card. I got my driver’s license last week, and I’m still waiting on it in the mail. As soon as I get it, I’m going to go to the doctor and get diagnosed with social anxiety, and then go to the weed store and buy some chrodiggidy.

Why haven’t I been writing? I am unmotivated by the lack of love we get on this blog. I’m not talking about pageviews or anything like that either. I think that we spread the word enough around the inner circle, and people just kind of stopped coming. Part of the problem is that we are inconsistent in our postings. Guess what? It will never be consistent, because an online journal geared towards pleasing people I don’t know for free does not constitute any part of my grand life plans. In my opinion, this blog’s glory days were back when we had 5 writers, me, Deddog, Haganav, Suit and Roughty. Everybody started slacking, and then it was up to just me and Roughty.

I have heard a lot of bitching about the variety. Some people like this person, don’t like that person, whatever. Guess what, bitches? Who fucking cares what you think? Instead of whining about not liking a particular author or blabla, why don’t you start your own blog, so I can not link to it?

I have also been talking with Roughty about starting a blogroll. I have come to the same conclusion. FUCK YOU, FUCKING GAY ASS BLOGROLL. I hate about 99% of the world. Why the fuck do I want to peddle to their desires and needs, so my little page view chart goes up? I don’t think so. It makes me feel sad that I hate so many people, and “do I really hate everybody” blablabla. The fact is, YES, I DO HATE EVERYBODY. Fuck off. If I know you and I like you, it will be very evident by the way I act. Maybe I’m just trying to be “cool,” but not really. If I wanted to be cool, I would gel my hair, buy some cool clothes, and go to a bar with expensive drinks and talk about “film.”

At the end of the day, and this post, I am supremely happy about one thing. DankNuggets, you are my homie, and you are a savage. Your Presidential Bid was classic, and this blog’s worth just doubled, despite the fact that we only increased authorship by 50%. Dank, Salute….you’ve got my vote big time, just as long as they start having cigarette machines in the cafeterias again.

Least Savage Roll Call

Call me unoriginal if you wish.  However, those in the know have seen my portfolio of original ideas on this site.  For those of you on your first visit, you have a lot of catching up to do.

I was looking over Suit’s Most Savage Roll Call this evening and began to think that we should expose non savagery.  Hence, the Least Savage Roll Call was born.  What’s a yin without a yang?  That’s right, I’m deep.  Form an orderly line ladies, no cutting.

Least Savage Non-Alcoholic Beverage: Fresca

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Least Savage Alcoholic Beverage: Pffftt, easy.  Coors Light.  Pete Coors is about as useful as a sack full of assholes.

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Least Savage Food: Rocky Mountain Oysters

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Least Savage TV Show: Entourage

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Honorable Mention: Skating with the Stars

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Least Savage Feature Film: Ferris Beuller’s Day Off.  Thats right, deal with it assholes.

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Least Savage Recording Artist: Shaquille O’Neal.  Great player, should have left it at that. 

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(Also holds record for Least Savage Video Game: Shaq-Fu)

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Here is a representation of what a gamer feels like playing Shaq-Fu

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Least Savage Professional Athlete: Any member of the Washington Redskins.  So sorry to see you go Tiki, you broke my heart.  I always loved watching you destroy the Skins.

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Honorable Mention: Terrell Owens and his yellow teeth.

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Honorable Mention #2: Joe Theisman’s leg

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Least Savage Hobby: Tanning

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Least Savage StoneyWageSlave User: Tie!  HouseParty and Haganav because they have both been chopped.

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It’s funny because one of them is German and the other an aspiring Jew.  Sounds like a perfect StoneyWageSlave spin-off to me.