Archive for the 'treachery' 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

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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

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 “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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Speech Writers

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.

A Thievery: The Most Treacherous Roll Call

Hello, all. I stole this idea from Roughty. That’s right, you worthless Irish drunk, I stole your idea, and even used some of your examples…busted!

The Most Treacherous Roll Call represents the most-badass film and cartoon villains my stoned brain could think up, and research, while at work. I broke it down into two basic categories…cartoon and live-action.

Beebop and Rocksteady

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Who doesn’t remember these clowns? Fucking Beebop and Rocksteady, the pig with piercings and the rhinoceros. To be honest, I don’t really remember the cartoon versions, but I do remember them from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Secret of the Ooze. “Num nums….num nums….” Shredder gets zero badass points for wearing a lawnmowing blades as a helmet, and being an overall bitchboy. Beepop and Rocksteady, salut!

Dr. Claw

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You don’t fuck with Dr. Claw unless your name is Inspector Gadget. Why the fuck would you? He’s got a fat retarded cat, and a big claw that he uses to drive around his space ship in. Too bad, he never can seal the deal and just have gay robot sex with Inspector Gadget, that would have been a nice pair.

Frank, the treacherous savage from Blue Velvet

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Oh Shit! Frank will fucking beat the shit out of you, kick you in the nuts, cut your ear off, let his buddies punch you in the face, sing Roy Orbinson songs to you, inhale a shitload of nitrous, make you sing weird songs, and then, fucking blow your face off, pop a pill and laugh about it with his boy. Frank is hands down one of the most treacherous assholes to ever walk the earth, the shit is NUTS.

Lone-Wolf, or Assassin with Son, or Shogun Assassin

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You get the lowdown on this badass from his orphan son, Tiguro. Tiguro’s mom gets her ass cut in half, so Lone-wolf lays it down real simple for his son, the future maniac assassin killer. Lone-wolf puts Tiguro on the floor, and then puts a bright bouncy ball in front of him on one side, and a sword on the other. Then he tells Tiguro, who is about 1 1/2 years old, that if he chooses the ball, he gets to die and see his mom, and if he chooses the sword, he gets to go on the road with lone-wolf, and fuck up some ninjas. Tiguro obviously chooses the sword, which he picks up and starts killing ninjas immediately with. Lone-Wolf is a savage, and he’s kind of a good guy. His nasty streak runs too deep, though, for him to be a “real” good guy. We’ll let Ben Affleck take those parts.

Honorable Mention for Most Treacherous.

Rory Breaker, from Lock, Stock…

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“If the milk turns sour, I ain’t the kind of pussy to drink it.”

He’s my weed-smoking candidate from this list too, because he’s got the sick chronizzles, slapdap dippidy.


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