“cocaine is cool, makes your brain feel silly”
Shedding pseudo-light on non issues…
“cocaine is cool, makes your brain feel silly”
***video edited PEACE OUT
my new plug of the day: regina spektor’s begin to hope. Nick Valensi plays guit on the album and it’s savage. This is actually music, unlike whiny whinensteinish hipsters and dead burnt lesbians.
i’m playing a little catch up on the blogggg today. have been derelict for a few days as real life has gotten in the way. since i’ve been gone, there have been some good posts and some terrible posts.
best post winner — roughty for #1 in da hood, g.
worst post winner (loser) — roughty for the horrendous mets.
blogger definitely going to hell — stoney for the retard post.
anyway, good work. i agree that dankkkkkk is in serious jeopardy. he needs to contrib or face the …
he was doing a solid job there for a minute, but fell off in recent times.
to further prop my boy roughtonious, i will add something from the athf vault which i am afraid he has forgotten…
(disregard the master shake.)
remember the moth man? aka reverse vampire bus… memorable quote: “yeah, i laid 10,000 of my eggs in his esophagus, and he was being a baby about it.”
ok, back to business. what the fuck is the deal with publication of bloggers’ first names? i thought it was an unwritten law that we would not do that sort of thing, but if it’s gonna happen, just let me know, and homey can play that. i’ll out you guys like elton fucking john.
so, some of you know i live in norfolk. norfolk is the land of black pedestrians walking slow as shit in front of your car while you’re going 60 down a 25 in order to minimize your time in the ghetto. i like this city, because i was born here and have been riding on these streets for years, but i mean this is ridiculous. i have almost run these fucking darkies over on purpose just on principle. my thousand pound metal driving machine is more powerful than your 6’5″, 88lb. cracked out, basketball playing, sneeker ganking ass, so get the fuck out of the way. i frequently use the “n-word” (nigger) during this type of encounter and hope that i will never get shot for doing so. so far, i have been lucky. if i ever get “run up on” for using “their word” i’m just going to play the albino card. be like, “yo, blood, i be one of you. i jus got dis pigment disawdah.” these guys aren’t generally among the sharpest knives in the drawer, so they’ll probably buy it… right?
i’m trying to do my part to keep these statistics intact. look, they even drew the stick figure the right color. for once, government work is efficient and effective.
ok, there’s my racism for the day. you like that? aww yeah.
so, besides narrowly missing brown people crossing the street, i have also been fishing my balls off — like ev-er-y day. here’s some of the fruits of my labor.
biggest smallmouth of my life. on the new river — right down the road from the site of the massacre (ethnic cleansing) in b’sburg va.
tonight, the all-star game is upon us. i am predicting an NL win, and in order for this to come about, i will need to support the hated ny mets. while i am very uncomfortable with this prospect, i will do it for tonight and only tonight. the braves are closing in on them like a domerman running down one of the retards from stoney’s last post, so i’m not too worried.
enjoy the game, bitches.
ps — as the time approaches for me to travel on the magical mystery tour to la, i am beginning to prime my lungs for the excessive cheeeefage that must surely occur. i am doing some deep breathing exercises and am only smoking like 3 packs a day instead of the usual full carton. all i know is, those yahoos in cali better be ready to see some real east coast flava.
finally, enjoy this bit of savagery. brought to you by some crazy redneck bird.
I used to work at a retard factory in Texas, outside of Dallas. I lived in Texas briefly, where I did lots of D-rugs and got arrested. Texas is where I met my boy Twitchie, and I worked with him at the retard factory. Twitchie’s mom, the Nice Witch of the West, worked there first, and she got promoted, and then we got jobs there. A lot of people could come up to me and say all this stuff about how you’re not supposed to call them retards, or that “retard factory” isn’t a nice thing to say either.
I’ve got 2 basic things to say to people who get upset when I talk about the retard factory or what went down there. 1) The scientific name for someone whose IQ is less than 70 due to developmental problems (aka happened before the age 18) is retarded. These people are, by scientific technical definition, retarded, and therefore, individually, they are retards. 2) Before you talk about being mean to retards, come wipe a retard’s ass in the shower, because that’s what I was doing at the retard factory. For $7.50 an hour.
I don’t even know where the fuck to begin with the retard factory. Think about a giant dorm room full of retarded people, living together in a building that was significantly funded by the state. These tards didn’t have family to take care of them, or their families couldn’t take care of them, so they got sent here. What I’m talking about here, people, is a state-run retard factory for retards who don’t have anywhere else to turn.
I think I’m going to use people’s first names, because I’m not getting into exactly where the place was, so there shouldn’t be any privacy violations.
Darrel- Darrel was a 40-year old retard who had the mind of an 11-year old. Darrel was one of my favorites. A southern gentleman, he would always ask me, “You my friend?” or just “Friend?” One of the control tactics of the factory was the “Coca-Cola note” system. If a retard did something good, you would give him, or promise him, a written note for a free Coke. I would joke with Darrel that I wouldn’t be his friend unless he went to the manager and got a “Friend note” so that I would be his friend for free. Otherwise, I wouldn’t.
Andrew- Andrew was an 18-year retard who had the mind of an 8-year old. He was also one of my very favorites at the factory, even though he could catch a sour attitude. He loved anime and cartoon trivia. His parents never came to visit, even though they lived nearby. When I got there, he refused to take showers and clip his nails. Through niceness and non-abuse, I got him to start taking showers and brushing his teeth.
That’s pretty much all the names I want to get into. Those 2 guys were pretty much my favorites though, Darrel and Andrew.
I would try to teach Darrel how to write his name, over and over. He would write D then A, then he would just draw ooooooooooooooo after the two first letters. Day after day, that’s all he could do. He was pretty fucking retarded.
I’d say the worst part about the whole thing wasn’t the retard ass, it wasn’t trying to feed someone who was retarded AND parapalegic, it wasn’t anything except how shitty the staff treated the retards.
It was weird being a recent college graduate, working around people who didn’t have GEDs who were working for minimum wage, just like me. Me and Twitch didn’t need to work there, we could have easily gotten different jobs.
The other people working there were motherfuckers to the retards. They would steal their old shitty stereos, presents from their forgotten families. They would put retards in choke holds and take them down when it wasn’t really necessary. They would sexually assault and abuse retards when they took them out to the movies.
It was a very sad situation, to see all those people in that place, getting basically no love. I did my best to have fun with them, and be a cheery little stoned fucker. I think I did a great job of taking care of them. I went back to TX about 6 months after I left, and when I visited the factory, all of my old retard friends were so happy to see me, and I was so happy to see them. Friend.
To top it off, there was this old motherfucking retard named James. James was an old white guy, and he was nuts. I think the 2 main things he had were dementia and Alzheimer’s, but he was retarded too, which was a triple whammy. James what was commonly known as a “digger.” Diggers are easily spotted because their fingers and fingernails are dirty brown, like they have been scraping bowls out for resin hits or something. Except really, they’re dirty because they have been digging up the spicy sauce from their butt crack. Retard butt crack.
Never shake a retard’s hand. Ever.
Bonus Clip: The Aunt Jackie