Archive for the 'Hall of Fame' Category

Hem-Dog: Getting Fucked Up to Deal with It

Ernest Hemingway is my homie. Literally, we are connected in a deep way. For one thing, we have the same birthday, and that’s about all the real things I can think up.

Hem was a sick, sick writer, and if you don’t think that, then you are a retard. He was on the front line of savagery. If you don’t like him because he is too macho and manly, quit whining. If you don’t like him because you think he is a homosexual homophobe, you might be right, but you still can’t touch him. If you think he was a misogynistic drunkard buffoon living out his fantasies through the destruction of the people around him who loved him…you’re probably right. But, that still doesn’t change the fact that the words he wrote changed the way people think about stories and characters, and that he was larger than life, and that he changed my life in a huge way.

Shout out to my Hawaiian Home-Dog Captain Walt P. Wenska. WORD UP.

What the fuck was Hemingway doing? He went to war, but he couldn’t fight because he had poor vision “supposedly.” So he drives an ambulance, gets his leg blown the fuck up, and acts like a badass, dragging someone back to base out of the fight, Forrest Gump style. Savage acts of heroism in the face of death? CHECK.

After that, he went home to Minnesota and started working at a newspaper. His mom was a psycho religious bitch, and they hated each other, and he left. “Soldier’s Home”… I don’t remember the lines, obviously, I’m at work. But it is sick. Alienation, depression, talk about existential fucking dilemmas, Hemingway was down like Charlie Brown. Except it adds a little to the existential flavor when you have been covered with other people’s blood, seen bodies of young people ripped to shreds by machine guns (an exciting new invention of the times) and just had an overall mind-blowing, world-shattering experience.

Anyway anyway anyway, at the bottom of all these, we have Hemingway. What was his favorite past time, may I ask? Other than hunting, fishing and writing, Hemingway was a motherfucking Booze Hound. Key West, FL was his spot, and he would walk around town boozing it up, go writing and shit, and go out in the ocean fishing for sharks and other big ass fish. Basically, he lived the American fucking dream. He got paid a shit load of money to write about his adventures, and he became famous and well-read, despite his obvious, painful emotional difficulties and hang ups.

I’ll admit it. I can’t even get my head around this shit. Ernest Fucking Hemingway, I mean…he is the Man, hands down, no questions asked. No questions asked.

If and when I can come up with a cohesive argument about why Ernest Hemingway was the most savage writer of the last century, I will. But today, it’s probably not going to happen.

Instead, let’s go down the old road of putting up pictures to get a point across. Here’s what Ernest Hemingway was all about.









Making Babies


Talking Shit




Going on illegal rum-running and people-running missions between Cuba and Key West.


I’ll stop there. The last one, illegal people-running is some ridiculous shit. Let me tell you a story, about a story, that made me realize something about E. Dog. One of his short stories is about a guy in Key West who runs a fishing boat, who also knows people in Cuba. He splits his time between the two countries. When he’s in Cuba, he gets propositioned to do a people-smuggle mission from Cuba to FL, and he accepts. The deal was brokered by a shady Asian, and blablabla, we are on the boat, on the coast of Cuba.

The character (an obvious projection of E-Dog) pulls up to shore, and gets all the Cubans loaded onto the boat, there’s like 10 of them or so. Then, he goes out to a different boat to meet up with the Asian dude to get his money. The Asian dude gets on Hem’s boat and gives him the money for taking the people across to Key West.

Then, after Hem gets the money, he kills the Asian guy by strangling him to death, and then takes the Cubans back to shore (Cuba), and makes them get off the boat at gunpoint, because there’s no fucking way he is about to smuggle some goddamn Cubans back to America.



Pegasus, Dank, L.A. and other reflections.

I feel like it is some time for reflection. I have just returned home with beer in hand from the corner store, just narrowly missing a vicious storm blowing through Richmond. This is the long awaited L.A. post, however I will begin with a few thoughts about the course this blog is going.

As Stoney has alluded to many times in the previous weeks, my Pegasus post is kicking ass on searches and page views. It’s cool that people are coming to the site, but Stoney and I have come under fire from the other Stonies for whoring out for page views. This cannot be further from the truth. This blog was started as a venue for Stoney and I to bullshit with, but shortly turned into a way for the four of us to have fun and keep in touch when we cannot see each other everyday like old times.

That is all well and good, but we have abandoned that principle, and somewhere along the line the bickering started, like it did so many times during school. We always got over it before, and I have no doubt we will do it again. Let’s get this straight, WE ARE ALL TO BLAME. I’m tired of the bickering.

Furthermore, we have been ganging up on Dank lately, and I will be the first to extend the olive branch. The Stonies all know of the phone conversation I had with Dank last week, and let’s be honest, Dank needed a kick in the ass. I said it, it’s done. Let’s leave Dank alone. For this to work, Dank, you need to thicken your skin homey and not take everything so personally. You have known us long enough, we’re assholes, we’re sarcastic, it’s time you take that into consideration before getting bent out of shape and making rash decisions.

Damn. Sorry for that diatribe dear readers, but we need to get this wounded ship back on course. We will get over this little hump, we have done it many times before, and I am sure we will do it again.

I have been thinking about what I can say about the Stoney reunion in LA for some time now. However, whenever I envisioned how I would describe the experience of seeing two of my best friends for the first time in two years, it never sounded right. I decided it was time to just sit down and write, no matter the outcome. I love the sound of the rain hitting my windows, I am watching the Mets on my computer as I write (they are up 5-0), the Braves are losing 4-2 on the boob tube, and I just cracked my next beer. If there is a better time to write, I don’t know when that will be.

So, will things be different with us upon the reunion, or will it be boozing and smoking as always…


I have arrived, the Venice Beach sign in the background…


Here are some reflections on my recent LA experience:

Car rental companies WILL fuck you in the ass. Maybe I am being unfair to LA, seeing as this was my first experience renting a car. But fuck Thrifty. Suit and I were expecting to split our car at the quoted price of $289, yet upon receiving the bill, it had inexplicably increased over 100% to a whopping $619. That’s bullshit. Letters to my Congressman and the California Chamber of Commerce are pending.

The Drawing Room will fuck you up. Now this place is a bar. It’s dark, has shitty (literally) bathrooms, has a seedy crowd of people who tell the best stories, and the drinks are tall, stiff, and CHEAP. Enough said.

Forget playing darts in LA. This shit blew my mind. There are no, I repeat, NO dart boards in LA. What is a drunken Irishman supposed to do with his time? I can understand the reasons behind not giving out free, sharp objects to boozed up degenerates, but where does LA get the nerve? Do you guys think you are more dangerous than any other major city in America? Please.

Yeah yeah, you can argue that I can use those plastic electronic dart boards, but fuck that. You can take those darts and shove them right up your ass.

You want to see a fight? Go to the dog park. Don’t go to Compton, or Long Beach if you want to see a fight. All fights start at the Venice Beach dog park. Seriously. No, seriously. I witnessed threats of bashing in illegally parked cars, and the always common, “I’m gonna fucking strangle you if you can’t control that dog” threat.

Dogs also love to fight there…

Oh yeah, and hot, slightly older women with small dogs will hit on you and your camera skills at the dog park. Or maybe that’s just me…

The dog park is a haven for drinking and smoking of all kinds. As you can tell, we spent a lot of time at the dog park with Stoney’s mutts. But you better believe we were never far from our beer, cigarettes, or trees.


Trees will spontaneously sprout out of nowhere when you are chasing a frisbee. We Stonies always loved throwing the frisbee around in Williamsburg, so naturally it was an activity that needed to be addressed while in LA.


However, in my effort to catch an errant toss from Stoney, apparently a tree materialized out of nowhere. I wrecked the shit out of the fence, but never lost my composure, and didn’t even hit the ground after a head on collision.


Suit’s new arch nemesis is the LA rooftop. Poor, poor Suit. He had no idea what he was getting himself into on the first big night of boozing and blunting. Let’s view a progression of Suit’s night shall we?


It was not looking good after a day of getting fucked up and eating cheesebugers.


BAM! Sorry, Suit. You knew this little golden nugget was going up, you were warned. This is classic not only because it is a perfect picture of the incident, (notice the culprits here- Budweiser and cigarette) but because Suit NEVER gets fucked up to the point of selling Buicks like this; or he never let us see it before.


Suit, you are toast.

Apparently, 411 is not a taxi service. We had just gotten blazed at the Sonic Youth concert at the Greek Theater in North Hollywood. Walking the mile back to the car at the Drawing Room was not an option. Stoney then proceeds to take my phone, call 411, and yell, “Yo, we’re at the Greek Theater…pick us up!” You can only imagine his surprise when the operator hung up on him. See also: Stoney spouting expletives at the operator as he was dumbfounded to why she hung up on him.

The “Macho Burrito” will end your night. We dines at Campos Taco many times, as it was around the corner, and the prices were right. But after a day in the day, drinking and stinking, the Macho Burrito put this humble Irishman out of commision; along with Stoney’s toilet.


Breakfast beers are essential to the start of any day. This has nothing to do with LA, this is essential whereever you are. But I have a picture of the first breakfast beer of the vacation.


Skaterboarding/riding bikes down Venice Beach to get to bars in Santa Monica is a lot more fun that you can imagine. Being in LA, even though I hate the sun, it would be a waste of time to stay indoors. It was fun to get out and check the local freakshow, and get a little bit of exercise.

However, I got more exercise than I bargained for. First of all, because Stoney…


…got too fat. And I…



…smoke too much. Stoney had the great idea to skitch a ride on the back of my bike while he was riding his skateboard. For those of you who don’t know, that is me doing all the work as Stoney grabs the back of my bike seat and coasts down Venice. Tough work over the course of almost 2 miles.

I would much rather ride my…


…than have to go through the torture of pulling Stoney’s fat ass again.

Stoney’s dogs love me MUCH more than him. It’s true Stoney, don’t deny it. Those bitches curled up with me every night, and would fight over who gets the best spot in bed with me. Niiiiice.




Ralph’s will make all your dreams come true. For those Lebowski fans out there, you will remember The Dude’s, Ralph’s card as his only form of ID. This is where Suit and I picked up all our groceries, and are now full fledged members.

Lady T is a master photographer. Most of these pictures were taken by Lady T. I generally don’t like taking pictures, or carrying around my camera for photo ops. It just seems fake and coerced to me. Lady T is the opposite, so I let her have free reign over my camera.



Now THAT is a scowl readers. So god damn sexy Lady T.

We suck at skateboarding, but at least we try. There was a lot of skateboarding in Stoney’s alley. Stoney has a better feel for the board, and more balance with it. Yet, while standing still, I can get off the ground, and even flip the board from time to time. I chewed pavement pretty hard one night, and my legs was sore for the next two weeks because I cannot skateboard drunk (or sober apparently).



Two female dogs WILL hump each other. It was comical on the first day, then it just got a little ridiculous with the amount of lesbian canine humping going on.


Dodgers Stadium WILL fuck you up. Holy dogshit, Batman. It was viciously hot at the Mets game. We were in Row A on the second tier on the first baseline, just sitting, and baking. The combination of beer, greasy Dodger food, being stoned, and hiking a mile up the stairs almost made Stoney pass out at the game. And of course, the only game we go to in the four game series, the Mets lose. Worst.

Stoney and I are still dead sexy.


Here are a few more random pictures of our reunion.








See that light? That’s Stoney’s apartment from the dog park. Just one block from the Pacific Ocean readers.



Well there it is. The long awaited tour of our reunion. Great times had by all, and we can’t wait for Stoney and Lady T to make it to the east coast, slackers.

#1 in the hood, G.

Like many pathetic, lonely, single, drunken men my age, I love Aqua Teen Hunger Force.  Its absurdity and humor are completely my style.  Plus in today’s fast-paced, go-get’em world, 11-12 minute episodes kick some serious ass. 

When Stoney and I lived together, we never had cable, fuck Cox Communications and their bullshit.  However, we did have many DVDs to watch, and the Aqua Teen sets were never far from our reach.  There is not much I can take credit for in my life, but I can take credit for single handedly bludgeoning Aqua Teen over Suit’s head until he became a true believer in the power and majesty of Master Shake.  Suit loves him some Aqua Teen now. 

All the fans know the main three characters well; Frylock, Master Shake (my personal hero), and Meatwad.  However, I am going to use my space here to pay tribute to some of my favorite villains our beloved heroes have tangled with over the years.  Gentlemen……

The Cybernetic Ghost of Christmas Past, from the Future


Yeah, just wrap your mind around that name.  With a name like that, you have got to be tough shit. 

This villain is a robot built by a super-intelligent race of Elfins who have been enslaved by the giant, “Santa Ape”.  He has come to the Aqua Teen’s neighbor Carl’s house to haunt it because it is built on an Elfin graveyard.  (All episodes have plotlines this absurd by the way).

His haunting techniques include making the house bleed and telling severely long, boring stories about nothing.  Carl eventually sells his house to Danzig (who buys the house solely for the blood flow), and that proves to be the downfall of the robot ghost.  He moves away because Danzig creeps him out too much.

Memorable Quote: “You must pay tribute to the Great Red Ape, in space……sexually.”



Now, Turkitron may look and sound like the Cybernetic Ghost of Christmas Past, from the Future, however his mission is one a much greater importance.  He has been sent back in time by rogue chicken scientists to save the great-great-great-great grandfather of the turkeys’ savior, “Goblocks”.  Alas, he arrives a little too late, as the Aqua Teens are sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner with the bird he has been sent to save.

Turkitron, a machine who is wise to ettiquette, decides to abandon his mission and invite himself to the Aqua Teen’s feast.  He eats the traditional spread of Turkey and taco pie, yet finds himself unable to fight the urge to tell nonsense stories; all of which require massive quantities of wine to tell.  Anytime you have a drunk robot, smashing TVs, ripping down curtains, and passing out in your show, you’re golden.

Turkitron unfortunately does not have the ability to create a horror show in your house, yet he does have an arsenal of weapons that he carries in his hobo-style trash bag.  These weapons include a toothbrush, some tube socks, and a bar of soap, all of which are laser guided and he gets crazy if you touch them.

Unfortunately, things go awry for Turkitron when he drunkenly decides to take the cooked bird back to the future through the “time rift”, which could be anywhere at anytime.  Godspeed, Turkitron.

Memorable Quote: Frylock: “You want to lie down and sleep it off?”

                                       Turkitron: “You want to lie down because I hit you in the face?”

The Drizzle


The Drizzle is not really a villain, but he still deserves a spot in this tribute. 

Master Shake decides it is time he has a freak nuclear accident and gets bitten by radioactive worms turning him into The Drizzle.  The Drizzle allegedly can control the rain, and uses this power to rain out planned robberies; but he has to be alerted of the crime in enough time because apprently there is a lot of prep work involved.  In typical Master Shake fashion, he goes overboard and orders Drizzle posters and stationary (which is black lettering on black paper, like the storm of justice) to pump up his rep.  Then when Shake tries to alert the public of his presence he manages to burn down the whole city.  You may think you have a good idea, but is it a “Drizzle good” idea?  Move over Superman, The Drizzle protects these streets.

The Drizzle also holds a special place in the Stonies’ hearts because he freaks the shit out of Stoney.  Whenever Stoney would eat mushrooms, or inhale massive quantities of blow, he would watch this episode.  It would always blow his mind, and he could not handle it.  Stoney has vowed never to watch The Drizzle again, but we shall see about that.

Memorable Quote: “Uh, do an internet search for villains, supercrime, or girls in trouble.”

Oglethorpe and Emory


These loveable aliens hail from the now defunct planet, Pluto.  Their world domination plans, while well intended, always end in disaster.  As Frylock so eloquently told them, “You guys couldn’t take over a damn bowl of Jell-O”.

They have tried to de-terraform the earth with a massive army of cloned Master Shakes, steal the Aqua Teen’s cable with their monster/remote control hybrid the, “Universal Remonster”, and have generally been a minimal pain in the ass for our heroes.  Their plans mostly don’t work because they are too busy getting high and worshiping a disco ball on their ship named, “Obnoticus”.

As a side note, these aliens are named after two small colleges outside of Atlanta where the creators of the show were educated.  My cousin attended Oglethorpe and went to one of their parties.  The night ended with him fixing their car.  But, I digress.

Memorable Quote: Emory (the green one): “Wait, we haven’t beta tested the Universal Remonster yet”

                                       Oglethorpe: “What you’re testing is me and my patience!”

The Frat Aliens (DP and Skeeter)


These guys had a classic episode because it was one long joke about the non savagery of frat guys.  We all know the type.  There is not much to say about them because they are vapid characters, much like their real-life counterparts.  However, they are included here because the creators did a great job at striking a blow against these non savages.

Memorable Quote:  Skeeter: “Dude, she’s got a bit of a ‘stache”

                                        DP: “It’s OK, she’s good to go.”  (then they exchange high-fives)

Honorable Mention:  “Dude, she’s like a moped.  Fun to ride until your friends see you.” 

Honorable Mention #2:  “Bros call me DP, it’s short for donkey puncher, get it?  Sometimes I’m D to the P, Big DP, Donkey Puncharello, or King Donko of Punchstania.”

Honorable Mention #3: (While showing off his greek letters tattoo on his lung) “Had to get it on the inside or my dad would totally kill me.  Had to get wasted because it hurt like eight bitches on a bitch boat!”

The list could go on.

MC Chris’s characters

There were a couple episodes when Meatwad would get addicted to a rapper’s song, and play that song ad nauseum until the other Aqua Teens could not take it anymore.  All the songs were written and sang by a guy named MC Chris.  Check out his site here.  Before I get into his characters if you haven’t heard his song about Boba Fett do so now.  If you don’t know who Boba Fett is, send me your address so I can drop by and punch you in the face.

My backpack’s got jets.  Classic.

All the rappers in the show are characterized by their yellow eyes, a diaper (for some reason), and MC Chris’s distinctive voice.  It is an ongoing joke that the Aqua Teens end up killing each rapper, sending him to Hell.  But, for some reason Satan always sends them back as another life form, and he releases a new single each time to finance his world domination schemes.

MC Pee Pants


He used a puppet to try and disguise the fact that he was an eight-foot spider wearing a diaper.

Memorable Quote: Meatwad: “What happened MC Pee Pants?  How come your lips aren’t moving?”

                                       MC Pee Pants: “Look my shniggies, I had a strizzoke in my brizzain, so I can’t move too good.”

Hit Single: “I Need Candy”

World Domination Scheme: Getting everybody hooked on candy through his lyrics.  Then luring them down to his lair at 612 Wharf Ave to use their hyperactive blood-sugar to power a drill to bore into Hell and unleash demons to run his global diet pill pyramid scheme.  Insane.

Sir Loin


Hit Single: “For Da Shorteez”

World Domination Scheme: To make all listeners feel bad for starving kids (Da Shorteez) and to send food to 612 Wharf Ave.  Once he has enough rotting food he will attract flies.  Since flies use acid to dissolve their food while eating it, he plans on collecting enough acid so he can use it to dissolve bank vaults and steal money so he can alleviate the debt he accumulated buying too much patio furniture.  Ludicrous.

Memorable Quote: “I don’t know why I have all this patio furniture, I don’t even sit down.”

Honorable Mention: “Look, when it comes to rhyming, I’ve got it.  But when it’s words and reading, I don’t do so hot.”

Little Brittle


Hit Single: “Uh-oh, Polio!”

World Domination Scheme:  None.  Kids stopped listening to his albums because they can’t connect with songs like, “Uh-oh, Polio!”  The Aqua Teens visit him at the hospital where he spits on them and thinks the nurses are stealing his watch – the watch that is in his mind.  Yikes.

The Broodwich


The Broodwich is a legendary sandwich that cannot be taken apart and once ingested, sends the glutton (Master Shake) to an evil plane where he will be subjected to endless torture and pain.  Ooookay.

The Broodwich is probably the most evil thing to appear on Aqua Teen Hunger Force.  It is forged from wheat in Hell’s darkest half acre, baked by Beelzebub, slathered with mayonnaise beaten from the eggs of a chicken by a one eyed madman, the cheese is boiled from the rancid teat of a fanged cow, and it is layered with 666 different meats from an animal with maggots for blood.  Oh yeah, and mustard, dijon mustard.  (I had to watch the episode to get all the ingredients.  Now that’s what I call sound journalism!)

However, much to Master Shake’s chagrin, there is no bacon.  Apparently there are no swine evil enough to sacrifice on the bed of evil; bed of evil and lettuce.  It is the most tempting sandwich you will ever come across, but it will spell your doom.

The Broodwich however fails when Master Shake eats it, yet picks off the sun-dried tomatoes because they are gross.  Apparently, it can be taken apart.  That’s right, go eat your tomatoes Nancy.

Memorable Quote from the episode:  (Master Shake, upon seeing the broodwich) “Holy crap in a pita!”

Honorable Mention: Master Shake- “Get me out of here! Dracula’s touching my leg, it’s a zombie, I can feel it!”

Honorable Mention #2:  “Taassste!”

As a side note, all the quotes provided here are from memory.  So, if any of you Aqua Teen fans think you see a discrepency, you’re wrong, because I have a mind like a steel trap.

There are so many more I can put in here, but I am lazy and I am running out of my trusty alcohol flavored blog juice.  Once the blog juice runs low, I start to lose interest.  For the Aqua Teen fans who are wondering where The Mooninites are at, I say…


Oh yeah, and…..


P.S.  If you have not seen the intro to the Aqua Teen movie that came out in April, it is by far the most hilarious movie intro since “Super Troopers”.  I went to see it with III Dog (former WageSlaver) and we drank heavily and lit up an L before going to the theater in honor of what we were about to see.  That may have proved to be a mistake, because upon viewing this intro, I came dangerously close to pissing my pants.

Konichwa, bitches

Puts everyone to shame.

 p.s. stoney’s a bitch

Blast from the past….bitches

Sorry for the sabbatical readers, however I had my sister’s graduation to attend.  See also: drunkeness.  She is the last of the Roughton clan to emerge from the depths of high school, and will be joining me in my city at the end of the summer.

I have been preparing for a move, and while gathering up all the extraneous bullshit that encompasses my life, I stumbled upon an unlabeled CD that I had stowed away some time ago.  With no idea what the digital contents were, I thought to myself, “Well, only one way to find out.”  So, I popped it into my computer and was amazed at what I found.  These were photos taken in seemingly an ancient time, the time of Williamsburg.  The photos chronicle a special time, and portray many budding savages.

Some of you may remember this time as the time the Red Sox were down 3-0 to the Yankees in the ALCS.  This was a time when Red Sox fans were coming out of the woodwork, those fairweather jackasses who cannot call themselves fans.  9/11/01, 12/7/41?  Please, this was the day of infamy.  The date: October 13, 2004.  The places: 1420A and Paul’s Deli.  The occasion: the last horse – your humble narrator – crosses the finish line into legal drinking age.  However, this occasion was the Queen of England of birthdays, merely a ceremonial position, seeing as I had been boozing quite steadily for a while.  Yet, it still must be celebrated in full pomp and pride.

Stoney had a post earlier where he showed himself living it up in Venice Beach.  Dank, the undisputed champ of blog self-portraits, has posted images of himself ranging from presidential candidate to Slim-Jim spokesman.  Furthermore, Suit has shown his fly-fishing prowess on many occasions.  I have yet to unveil my image upon this shitstem, so I will signal this as a new era out from under the mask.  All Stonies are here in this photo array, along with some cameos from a beloved past.  Let’s get the ball running with the original American Badass; Party Marty.


Stoney posted about Party Marty at an earlier date.  All his musings are true; this man was our neighbor and instructor on how to lead a life of savagery.  His greatest super power is the ability to summon the “Rebel Yell” at will.


Here I am, freshly 21, and only mere hours away from utter obliteration.  If I remember correctly, my 21st birthday weekend was the weekend of one of my more memorable arrests.  As I was be-bopping down the street after a night of boozing, a cop pulled me over – while I was walking.  Upon his request for a breath-a-lyzer test he took umberage to my response of, “Kiss my ass, I’m not taking a fucking breath-a-lyzer.”  See also: Stoney picking me up from jail in the morning.


The gang’s all here.  All Stonies, the greasy, marinara blooded WOP Falk, and Win, shortly before he urinates on that couch for the umpteenth time.


Stoney says: “Commence drunkeness”


Dank bursting every capillary in his body in anticipation for another Red Sox game.


The Stonies, sans Suit, with two more timeless cameos.  DNattyRasta, my boy always, but had many run-ins with the other Stonies.  See also: short bags.  DNatty is the infamous man who called Stoney a cracker in our own home.  Hilarious.

Then there’s Raf, the Morrocan refugee.  Once he completed his mission – move to America and impregnate one of our women – he was a little lost. 



On the left is Gabe Twose, an original Y2S member.  See also: fake british accent, and hooking up with an unnatural amount of ladies.  And Stoney is, well….stoned.  It’s not just a clever name people.



A rare image of all the Stonies together.  From left to right:  DankNuggets: sensitive hermit savage, Roughty: curly Irish savage, Stoney: west coast savage, SuitYourself: Jesus look-a-like savage.  The amount of man-prettiness here is staggering.  Form an orderly line ladies.


Here we find the fruit of Rugged Ron’s loins, Falk, studying another delicious nectar that is Budweiser.  This is the creator of, “The Age Old Struggle of Savagery vs. Non-Savagery”, not a periodical to be missed. 


For any 21st birthday to be successful, you must be in this position at some point.  Suit is ordering me a beer.  That’s how he orders beer ladies and gentlemen, don’t question.  See also: Savage beer ordering scowl.



This lovely lady was on hand to wish me a happy birthday.  She was a regular denizen of Paul’s Deli, and we had drinks on many occasion.  But, what the fuck was her name?  Note, Dan Marino’s approving gaze from the picture in the rear.



Falk, in all his glory.  Lego my dago.


Back at 1420A, Stoney and former StoneyWageSlave member, HouseParty unwind before another session.


And there you have it; savagery incarnate.  Suit rolling up in a frisbee. 

Nostalgia is fun isn’t it?  I know readers, this was mostly for the Stoney crew, a little trip down memory lane for us.  Back when hair was a few inches longer, and waistlines were a few inches shorter.

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.


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.


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…


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.


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…


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.

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)

Look At All The Great Shit We Did

Now that we’re deep into this shithole, I wanted to recap the major posts. I tried to give everybody 2 posts, but Suit just didn’t cut it, and he only got 1. Here goes:

RoughtyMcRoughtonWhat Happened? and Ode to the potato

Deddog A Modest Proposal and High Crimes of Savagery

Haganav Ancient Ritual Sacrifice and “Hama Rules” and its application, if any, to Iraq

Suityourself Virginia is for Garbage Mountains

StoneyWageSlave How should I alter my mind at work today? and Racism is Schism

The Highlighted Battle for the Week Mug Shot Battle

I think that a couple of things are obvious from these posts.

1. We are consistently putting up quality shit. If you can’t find it, that just means that you aren’t wasting enough time looking for it.

2. We are a creative and diverse group.

3. Our blog is better than yours.

That’s pretty much it. I’m taking down my Knight Story, because you don’t deserve to read it anymore.

PS- I think wordpress is taking down our pictures of famous people or something. Weak.