Living with terror

This is my roommate and his boyfriend.

Bitches…Based Upon a True Story

You are all a bunch of bitches. ‘boo hoo, i hold down the blog all on my own–sniffle, sniffle, nobody helps me out’. Now, no one is producing shit except for twitch’s brainless miney mo of football picks. the grand introduction you were afforded was quite undue. Stoney was apparently wrong in his fear of unleashing the savage that must have been. I was expecting more ridiculous puttering buttholes and second grade male teacher fantasies, but i guess the life of a savage cannot include the blog, though true savagery also does not recognize the 70 down genital coddling that is football. Yes, i love football and sports, and many unsavage things, but i do not and have never claimed to be a savage. Far from it, i am more a pinkie flipped, tea drinking, legs crossing, former weed smoker who has done everything in his power to reject savage lawless behavior for the groovy rewarding of responsibility (sarcasm).

twitch, i’m sorry for the blatant attack, but your work is limited to picking, often accurately, the upcoming weekend’s games. you offer no commentary and hardly any shittalking. i was expecting you to be ripping and stoney claimed to be anxiously anticipating the coming shittalking brought with football.

stoney, you’re gay. bucs suck, ‘your’ steelers are winning, and i can undoubtedly bet my entire net worth of -200 dollars that you have yet to watch a single play. well, maybe if i lose then me paying negative 200 dollars would actually mean i get paid 200 dollars!?! shit, why didn’t i think about that before? i think i might have a good case for wachode and chase you down a dark alley and beat you with a proverbial debt bat credit cards.

suit, simply said, thanks for the sushi dinner and getting me into academia where i certainly do not belong.

on to me, i still can’t make any money with no bills to pay and working all the time. i’m a piece of shit who fights with his girlfriend all the time and watches sports rather than do anything else. i literally have to think about, no, draw up a spreadsheet of pros and cons whether to buy an iced tea for my smoldering ashtray asshole mouth. on a lighter note, i am happy to inform you all that i have been successfully mining green gold from the deepest caverns of the Upper Dank Nasal River, wiping them on and flicking them toward all unsuspecting victims. Be careful where you reach or grap for balance when leaning to pick up that damn elusive runaway pencil. there may be a boogie man lurking in the shadows–one of my minions of ectoslime.

roughty, well you a bitch ass nancy who can’t handle liquor. i guess this is as good a time as any to relate my recent visit to the confederate capitol in which nancy reagan, roughty-as he is first lady, resides. I arrived in his spacious 13 bedroom apartment to remember the all to familiar later 1420 A smell. yes, quite noxious. however, if you have not been depraved enough to cross the river of burnt matchsticks, pay the toll man, Mikey, and sneak past the snarling starving beasts willing to tear your flesh for its first meal since a woman had visited (rarely and never prolonged), to find the beasts’ litter box, then you can hardly imagine roughty’s. overflowing like a bloated pot of chili, the smell sticks to your skin and dampens your hair and cannot be removed by the sticky shower and mildewed-bottom of the pile towel you will be lent. after given the grand tour of his apartment modeled after a bunker in Fallujah and seriously debating wearing my flip flops in the shower, I air-dried for fear of putting the towel on my head, and then roughty and i set out to watch the mets inevitably blow it and hopefully find college football game on a nearby tv at the bar.

as everyone know the mets blew it, but not without a shimmer of hope for those unfortunate enough to confuse the ny mets for the recently swept phillies with a 13-1 shallacking on that day. well, we sat and drank beer and i ate a hockey puck with bacon and cheese, roughty in nothing out of the ordinary, drinking 1-2 more beers at the bar. This will come in to play soon, but everyone should know that roughty drinking 1-2 more beers with his typical diet versus mine would be no excuse for the ultimate shamery to come. we split the tab and went down stairs where i decisively defeated roughty in the first victory of the night-ping pong. when exiting the bar i wisely asked roughty if he had paid the second tab as he had lost the wager, moronically trusting the word of a drunken irishman. he walked out on that one and we moved to his sister’s boyfriend’s house where he exploded the tonic everywhere and left the floor adhesive. roughty made the drinks, one per person, and after thoroughly wearing out our welcome, we proceeded to dinner. both of us sitting slumped waiting for our respective lasagna and sub, i began to feel the stupor of Diana and Bacchus’s love union and looked across the table at the waning, leaning tower of a slurring man. Immediately upon finishing Roughty stood up and implored me to “get out of here” claiming we were done. Being the naive sentimentalist, I asked, ‘don’t we have to wait for the waitress? No? We can pay up front?’ this was the second, but failed attempt to walk out on a tab. He ended up begrudgingly paying the unfair tarif for both of us, saying, “you ive me sa money layter” i forgot.

well, we walked the few blocks home sandwich in tow knowing the state of affairs of any autonomous stonies’ kitchen. We arrived home and shortly after, i snapped this picture:

**will not upload-does not meet security guidelines**

i guess the material is too sensitive. a picture of roughty passed out at 8:30 p.m. would surely explode the head of any with knowledge of him.

so, he passed out and was eventually roused with threats of exposing his nanciness. in another failure of the night, roughty,quite out of character,did not shag the fly puerto rican girl that wanted his nutsack. instead, quite in character, he was content to be defeated in video games while she watched.

1st Victory- Ping Pong

2nd Victory- Drinking

3rd Victory- Madden (Roughty quit before half, I forced him to finish the half at least)

4th Victory- MVP 2005 (Red Sox defeat Mets at Shea-3-1. Big Papi eventual game winning homer in top 8th. )

5th Victory- Madden (again)

Roughty would only chalk his days losses to 0-4, but i assure you he was spent on drinking as i mixed up another gin. The next day i awoke to roughty going to work where i was going for a stoney style free brunch (remember the trellis? sweet) when my lady cracked the whip and was bitching, so i had to go home.

It was a very enjoyable trip. I only shit talk now because i have the god given right to make my friends feel bad for putting me up and paying for a dinner he wanted to walk out on. i only got slapped in the face once, which by anyone’s standards is another victory. i had a good time and a lesson in hopeless savagery. Now it’s time to get in my mom’s car and go eat McDonald’s and relay my exact gps coordinates to the wife.

signing off:

Ninja Sighting

There is a ninja assasin coming for you stonies.  Beware!

Brought to you by Dankknuggets’s evil alter ego, Backyardboogie:

Fear Not

Fear not ye who stare in dumbblankfacerificatio.  This blasphemous affront from he with the royal nose and created royal lineage will be met with brutally harsh impunity.  He will be crushed with my iron gauntlet as I mold his flacid will like a piece of wet clay. 

The King’s claim to royal lineage is false and ridiculous.  My children, King Stoney was once a young grasshopper in my School of Debaucherous Edification.  This State sponsored program reluctantly admitted the Prince to imbue the naive Prince with the necessary rejection of extravagant material objects and extravagant g.p.a.’s .  What the young Prince did not realize is that this propagandalistic program of debaucherous inundation and and murdering of reason was to weaken the privileged for our worker’s revolution.  My arduous work of the last few months, day in and out, working into the wee hours of the night, was for the building of my barnesian army. 

I am a man of the people.  My father, a poor dirt farmer who struck oil through his rural education, rose through the ranks of the privileged like the early Blogres lineage that King Stoney claims.  Abandoning me in his quest for the tainted coin,  I was raised in the hardened industrial center of our land.  I am a worker that will crush the priviliged and distribute their wealth to the people.  Rise against your attacking tyrannical despot who rules with wild passion and uncontrolled partiality.  Join the ranks of the industrialized worker.  Sign up at your local Volkswagen dealer.  

In my brilliant plan of genius, I paved the way to revolution through my puppet P.M. Sunburner.  He is a weak man of the senses swayed toward the passion.  He is a weakened by his addiction to the witch’s brew squeezed of the rotten teat.  His ludicrous claim of peak conditioning and corpus care are being revealed by the pictures provided by Morel the Destoryer, a man of truth.     

Taken after his royal decree last night

Suppressing the Truth

Destroyed by his Extravagance–Poisoned by Morel the Truthsayer

 Let this be a lesson to all who oppose the strengthening of the Bloggerland.  Sunburner is an example of any who stand in the way of our glorious revolution of the people.  Treacherous lechery will be Punished!

-Chancellor Ovaltine

P.M. Demonstrates his Iron Handocity

In a predictable unexpected turn of events, P.M. Sunburner has disposed of his newly befriended assassin.  In his ruthless ruthnicity, the P.M. beguiled the attacker into a partnership of death.  No, not the scythe to his iron hand, the attacker became the victim of his glorious impunity.  The colossal hand that now makes Blogres strong and empowered to meet the agression of any would-be agressors has come down on any who oppose it. 

It seems that shortly after the Toast of Sunburnable Brotherhood the P.M. threw the attacker off of the Royal Balcony where he plummeted to the marble floor, falling to his death.  The P.M.’s delight in destroying all those who oppose the Bloggerland will assure the people of his pledge to protect the people from the royal despotism with brutal force.  “I will destroy all those who oppose my shepherding of the followers of the Book of Savagery”, said the P.M., “But, I will usher in a newer, stronger Iron-age in which our land is impervious to the flacid assaults of limp troglodytes.”

 The P.M.’s promise of a stronger land rising from the ashes of the former King’s debaucherous disregard for public affairs was compounded by a State exposition of strength, physical prowess, and the P.M.’s superior body type.  “Not only through genes, but arduously hard repetition, can you too approach my chiseled greatness.  I take care of my body, I am believe in preserving the sanctimonious temple which is the human body.  I am outlawing all manufacturing, sale, distribution, consumption, and even speaking of substances harmful to the realization of your goal to approach the human specimen that is me.  Any caught consuming drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, or polska kielbasa will immediately be executed.  Do not fear my children–I will liquidate the threats to our ever-lasting security.  Everything Must Go!”   

–Morel the Destoyer–

Brought to you by our friends at Costco–Destroying Small Businesses One Zip Code at a Time

Exactly the type of citizens his gloriousness wants.  Both the violent teens and the complacent videographers.  Don’t forget to check out our new thirteen year old punani section.  Now in boxes of a dozen– baker’s dozen that is. –Costco 😉

Asssination Attempt on P.M.

The drama of the foreign invasion has escalated in the last few hours as P.M. Leopold Sunburner was attacked by a would-be assasin while giving his second decree.   

The identity of the attacker has been revealed.  In a tribute to the long forgotten fighter of injustice, El Kabong, the defiler of the sanctity of the sanctimonious new P.M., was stopped not by security, but the iron hand of Sunburner. 

His foiling of the attempt was not accompanied with a bum rush of security or the summary execution as expected, but a peace offering.  It seems the P.M. recognizes the assailant as the now dishonored and disgraced former American presidential candidate.  Aligned closely in their political persuasion, they ironically have become great friends and confidants.  A proposed consulship and extermination of the exiled King is rumored to have and still be considered. 

                                  

We, the Royal Press, will continue to bring you the continued late breaking newsworthy news.  Heil Sunburner.       

A Message From Our Sponsor: 

“Do you want to get fingered or do you want to get fucked?” Come on down to Funtown Auto. 

Foreign Invader Takes Over Blogres, Installs New P.M.

Similar to the blietzkreig’s lightning attack of speedy fast quickness, a foreign invader has conquered vacantly empty Blogres.  The invading invaders advantageously took advantage of King Stoney’s debaucherous debauchery on a weekend retreat into the depths of the dark wooded forest of ghouls and plentiful fairy dust.  The Minister of Defense, Roughty McRoughton, and his army of little green Alesman sensed the plot afoot and attempted to meet the insurgent infidels but was impeded by the River of COX’ s Dam break and flooding of the southern swamps of the South end of the Kingdom.  The sole availabe resource to meet invader was the King’s Huntsman, SuitYourSelf the Busy, but the woodsman was off hunting the woods for herbs, berries, fish, and small game.  Now, all that stands in the invader’s way is the Blacksmith, Twitch the White, also the Court’s Rebuter empowered solely with the title of Premier Commenter.    

Travelin’ by day in their own land, the conquerors arrived in the early hours of Blogres and seized the Book of Savagery–the incredulous edict of the King and his court.  With this powerful empowerment the invader gained total controlocity in the unthinking subjects longing for the gift of endowed savagery.  They will now listen in dumbblankfaceirification to the holder of the Book of Savagery. 

His Awesomeness, Chancellor Ixniamak, the head of the new government, has issued his first decree:

Mouth-breathing, grass smoking, wannabe Fuckenstein polska opposition like this will be eliminated:

 

Do not fear, my children, I will be victorious in battle

Your Loving Father and Chancellor,

 

We, the Royal Press, promise to bring you all the details.  We hope we can bring you an exclusive of the Chancellor’s ceremonial Sulfuric Acid baby-head baptismal.  We will exploit all means to bring you the most suffering, death, and destruction of any news organization.   

–Morel the Destroyer–

Brought to you by Apple, Pickers of the Tree of Knowledge, (censored by the Committee to Kill the Human Spirit):

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. 

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:

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

The Scowl, A Tribute

Friends and Biatch,

My initial disgust and self-esteem hit by our founder’s placement at the bottom of the barrel has been replaced by firm resolve. The beatles topic, thrown around in the past, always related to music and the circle of friends and so my initial disgust was understandable. Relative to our unsavage bloggery I am still disgusted by the claim of lacking originality and depth. Perhaps my satire goes beyond the understanding of our wise founder. This however, is a separate issue that is related to over-self-awareness and the subsequent sometimes total self-involvement that plagues us all.

The scowl, this one of actor Johnny Lee Miller

**Stoney Note**- Here is a better picture of said scowl.

As the Godfather of my weed soldier with eons more to learn, I birthed the self-proclaimed Stoney. Stoney, you can thank me for this enlightened self-deprecating, self destruction that you now embrace. Without my gentle guidance i wonder where our Prince might have gone.

?

 

Peer pressure is a motherfucker.

As Stoney may or may not know, all of us have a great reverence for him in different ways. In retrospect I have come to realize its manifestation in this endeavor. My banter has escaped him, I know, in my writings because of the sensitive relationship that he and I have come to have with our tested brotherhood. The full details of it are only known to one other. This post was started in defensive passive aggressiveness, but after reflection, has become a tribute and hopeful vehicle for introspection.

My first experience of Stoney was one of jealous and moral ridicule. The quote, “I bet you I can have three girls in here in 30 seconds” and subsequent success, I thought, pitted us on opposite sides of the eternal struggle. With the future understanding of my brother’s psychological cogs I have better comprehended our initial personal encounter. Because of my own insecurities and romantic moral inflexibility, I rejected my brother’s bid to partake in the then sacred ceremony of ganja smoking.

Of course, our friendship blossomed through the beautiful bud and then spawned another to create the original Minstrels. This band of self-aware and insecure merry-men grew and shrunk as others had the patience to get beyond our aloofness and penetrate the unintended exclusive group. The Eastern-American modern jazz band is now defunct, though it survived the petty quibbles of all of its members, only to be destroyed by the individual paths its members took. It was tried and tested in so many ways, including two yokos, one early on and properly addressed, one later, that allowed the small fissure to fester and explode into near total destruction, and another of my own insane creation of true love, displacing feelings of another on a innocent stranger caught in the midst of the tornado.

This forum, organized by our truest sensitive savage, perhaps in hopes of reunion has allowed for us all to once again come together despite the miles that separate us all.

Twitch, though I have never met you, I have heard a few stories and feel some sense of brotherhood in our common experience of the Prince’s rakishness, but look forward to learning about and experiencing someone who is so close to someone who is so close to me.

In closing, I would like to say in the tradition of full disclosure that you former minstrels have been victims to in the past, I love you all dearly.

Presidential Hopeful Bows Out in Disgrace

 “I’m not a rake”;

George Shrub leaving Campaign Headquarters in the middle of the night

 He has retracted his bid for the Presidency in the middle of the night, June 1st 2007, under a cloud of public disgrace and failure.  It seems the Commander in Chiefing was not prepared for the epic battle between right and wrong.  In violating his code of ethics and going back on his campaign promise of outlawing pre-marital sex with life imprisonment, he could no longer vie for the coveted position.  His political rivals quickly attacked his questionable morality, unsteadfast inner fortitude, and in old political jargon, his political wishy-washyness.  Furthermore, the promise of plasma screen TV’s for every American was quickly dismissed when sensitive financial documents revealed his net worth at $187.  Ironically, he spent all of his campaign contributions on phillip morris products, the major soft money contributor to the political slush fund known as the The Committee to Elect a President Who Smokes.  It is even rumored that he participated in free expression this past weekend while retreating in the sin filled capitol of Thailand.  He claims he will return to his father’s oil farm and redeem his sins through stern lecturing, old-fashioned farm work, and a non-indulgent residence.  It is also rumored he invited a one Stoney McStoneystein to join him because of the following’s fondness for stern lecturing. 

In the political vaccum created by dropping out of the clear favorite, as shown by the latest poll of the American public, approving nearly categorically of his arch-conservativism, war mongering and supposed morality, I, Lester von Cherrytree, am annoucing my candidacy.  I hope the public will support my l****al persuasion in their new found distrust of the right.  Published below is my first campaign speech.

It is no longer a time for our fathers to McGovern,

We have the responsibility to alter or abolish the old regime as we see fit for the future.

It is a new time, with new dynamics, that requires the trained but untested wills of children entering the grand forum.

No longer can we caged by familial reliance, unfounded defiance, or blind contrivance.

Only through blistered hands, broken backs, bee sings, and scraped knees will this lingering foreboding be addressed.

As children of the Republic we cherished our leaders and teachers.

We exceeded their expectations with our own resilience in dealing with the slaughtering of innocence.

And as we matured in this world, we were equipped with the instruments needed to understand it’s dynamic.

We must love it and care for it before it’s beacon is extinguished. 

*edited by the CIA  

 

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