Shameless Plug…

I have put together a couple of books of a mix of blog posts and new content on Amazon ready for your perusal. New stuff like:

“The Vasectomy Story”

“The Piss Mud Story aka How The Beach Boys Set My Car On Fire”

“Exercise is Stupid”

tons more too

The first 10 people who leave me reviews on Book 1 will get Book 2 for free.

So you don’t feel ripped off, Book 1 is free on Amazon 10/28 thru 10/30.

JP Shaver Says… Bang Your Head Here

JP Shaver Says…Bang Your Head Here…Some More

Random Thoughts on wasting your time exercising

Exercise is a Gigantic Waste of Time

The same fat guy walks by my house every morning and again every evening. He wears the same orange, foil spacesuit workout kind of garb every day; the thing must smell like bloody hell. Can you put clothes made of foil in the washer? In the last few months his wife has started to join in on the festivities though I only see her in the morning. They drag a mangy dog along with them on their walks. He doesn’t have a spacesuit but looks like he’s seen better days.

I noticed the other day that this guy, for all of his efforts, has been wearing the same orange NASA suit since he came to my attention more than a year ago. My point being that this guy has not lost a freaking ounce since he started all of this exercise frivolity. He’s still gasping for air. Still has the knees that bend in like fat people get. Still dragging around the same mangy dog. The wife is still there and I think she may be even bigger. What is the point of all of this?

I see a lot of fat people running around my neighborhood and they don’t ever get any smaller and then after a while I don’t see them anymore. A new round of rotund people replaces them. I suppose there is the possibility that the dropouts died but I don’t think so. My personal feeling is that they just woke the eff up and quit spending what little time they have to themselves and went back to the couch, television and junk food that made them so happy for all those years. Back to where they should have stayed in the first place.

I used to run. I used to run fifty plus miles a week. Of course this was twenty years ago but still, I used to be a runner. I could run like nobody’s business. Like Forrest Gump. On Saturdays I would do ten miles plus with ease. But I hated every second of it and quitting it took more gumption than getting off smokes. Trust me, I’ve quit smoking at least a thousand times. I know what it takes. It’s an addiction and what’s worse, I gained a ton of weight over my time as a jogger.

So if none of these people are losing any weight and I actually gained weight, why bother? I can’t get hurt sitting on the couch watching television but people who work out are tearing themselves apart for what?

I looked up freakish sports related injuries and a few of them stand out to me as some of the worst things that could ever happen to someone on a self-induced basis. For instance, Men’s Fitness says that a torn pectoral muscle is one of the Top 5 worst things you could ever do to yourself. It is literally your chest muscle ripping itself off of the connecting muscle in your arm as a result of lifting too much weight. The fine people at Men’s Fitness do offer advice on how to prevent such a catastrophe, and I quote, “only work with a load you can control.” Oh, thanks. Sounds like advice better saved for woman in a sex advice column in Cosmopolitan.

Plantar Fasciitis, also known as jogger’s heel, is another gem where the tendons in your foot actually start to rip to shreds. Charming. I had plantar fasciitis a few years ago but mine was brought on by being twenty-five pounds overweight not from running around the neighborhood like a hipster douche, beard blowing in the wind and hell bent on proving he’s better than everybody else because he runs. I basically did nothing but sit and eat to get this disorder. Meanwhile some dumbass tortured himself for his share of the fasciitis. Who’s smarter? In case you’re stumped, the answer is me by a longshot.

Over the course of a normal day of eating, exercise is virtually meaningless. Take a look at some of these comparisons.

I base these hopeless activities on thirty minute increments as anyone who has an hour to devote to straight exercise is a giant douche and probably needs to start a family or drive for Uber. I’m also going with a standard 180 pound human being for my example as well. The first case is walking three miles per hour for thirty minutes. This gigantic waste of time burns a grand total of 135 calories. Wow! Let me tell you what else equals 135 calories. One decent beer, one. Half of a glazed donut. A half a donut has 130 calories. I guess you could go nuts and eat the whole thing but then you’d have to walk around like a jackass for another thirty minutes. You could eat two of those tiny Snickers things and that would add up to 130 or so calories. Is eating two of those stupid things worth punishing yourself for a half an hour? The answer is a resounding, no.

On the flipside, you could eat two heads of iceberg lettuce and stay under 135 calories. Yum. Vegetables are the worst things ever created. I have a theory that there weren’t vegetables until Adam and Eve sinned, they are a part of God’s curse on man.

Of course there are other calorie burning activities which carry much more bang for the buck. Tai Chi burns upwards of 170 calories per half hour but there is the added cost of looking like a total asshole while you do it. My friend’s neighbor used to do his tai chi routine on his front lawn every morning and could not have looked like a bigger dick. This guy was pretty well built but he lived with his tobacco spitting mom and they would yell at each other the whole time he was getting his chi on. To me tai chi is a mental art as well as physical one but the whole thing is kind of ruined when your toothless mom is shaming you for looking like a total nad in front of the neighbors.

I looked on the list for an activity that I might be able to embrace. Bird watching actually burns a hundred calories per 30 minutes invested. Pretty sure that means that I burn one hundred calories just by sitting down so I’m into that one. Gutter cleaning cuts two hundred calories per 30 minutes. I’m required to perform this task, no choice, so I guess I’m in for gutter cleaning. Only problem is I only do it once a year so I’ll probably need to fill in around the edges a bit. Taking out the trash burns 120 calories but I don’t think I could stretch this activity out for an actual thirty minutes unless I was an actual garbage man. No, I think I’ll just sit in my chair.

Pushing a kid around in a stroller burns 120 calories but pushing a plane, like a real airplane, burns 250. Who sat down and figured out the calorie burn of moving an airplane anyway? Who is pushing an airplane anyway? This is an activity usually reserved for a guy like Superman. Doesn’t it seem like pushing an airplane should burn just a few more calories than shoving around crib midget in a stroller? Just sayin’.

Take a look at this poor sap. I despise motivational memes. I especially dislike the wines memes but the ones used for motivation are pathetic.


“We need encouragers?” No, what we need is somebody to tell this poor bastard that he or she is seriously wasting their time. Since cycling at a modest rate of 10 MPH, and let’s face it, this lump is going to be lucky to break the speed necessary to just stay up, at 10 MPH a person will burn about 200 calories. What are the odds that taking 200 calories off the top of what this person ingests in an average day is going to put even a scratch into that frame? Zilch.

I didn’t realize until the other day that my iPhone has an app built into called, “Health.” What’s more, I didn’t realize that it was “on.” Astoundingly, when I opened the app I found that I am actually walking over a mile and a half on average every day! Now, I don’t walk. I don’t run. I sit at work all day and sit when I get home in the evening. All of this is a prelude to getting into bed and sleeping for 8 hours. Where is this mile and a half coming from? Like almost 3000 steps a day? Most of it on the weekdays. And then it dawned on me. I smoke, and all of this activity is coming from walking back and forth to the smoking pit in back of the building at work and firing up a heater every hour and a half. At home on the weekends I don’t have to do anything but go out on the deck to throw down some heat. Quitting smoking would single-handedly strip me of the only activity this body has. And here I was thinking of quitting for the 1001st time.

Random Thoughts on Dieting Once Again

Dieting Again

I have previously mentioned my struggles with diets how I have tried every one of them known to man, The Atkins Diet, The Cabbage Soup Diet, The Paleo Diet and even flirted with Veganism for six months or so. I know diets. You need info, you come to me. I never stick with them long enough to know if they actually work but I can tell you the intimate details of every last one of them. I even had the thought of creating my own dieting system called The Self-Loathing Diet. The whole thing is based on a severe sense of self-hatred resulting in weight loss gained from denying yourself life’s pleasures.

I made the mistake of sharing the idea of The Self-Loathing Diet to my friend Wenus. Not sure if that’s how you spell Wenus, we never checked, but it’s the nickname we gave him, not his real name. Wenus has large elbow skin. It’s gross to tell you the truth and he is aware of it’s indecency as well. Playing golf with him is an atrocity as, first, you kind of have to wear a short sleeved shirt to play golf properly and, second, his elbow flesh flaps in a good wind. In a typical round I spend four hours gagging. It’s really inhuman. His hatred for his rather generous allotment of elbow dermis may explain why he was so drawn to my idea of dieting based on hating yourself. My mistake came when I underestimated the amount of pleasure Wenus would derive from dieting on denial. He texted me one early afternoon to tell me that he actually developed an erection while loading up at the salad bar at work instead of going for the usual burger and fries. With each scoop of broccoli, Wenus was becoming more and more aroused. He had become a contorted mix of a vegan and some guy who likes women to walk in high heels on his balls. He’s thinner now but is in dire need of aggressive therapy. True story.

I am susceptible to influence from documentaries too. I know this and actually avoid watching them as I know, going in, that it will be a life changing event for me. I was bored a few weeks back and decided that I should watch the documentary, Fed Up. If you haven’t seen it, it’s about how the sugar industry is slowly killing all of us with their poison. Apparently, corn syrup is the new anthrax. Terrorists will be sending packages of this stuff to their local congressman as their next acts of war. “You will release my brothers from Guantanamo or I swear to Allah that I will make you cupcakes from high fructose corn syrup and in five to ten years when you develop diabetes you will remember these words.” Probably not the most politically correct fictional quote but I simply couldn’t resist. Anywho, within the first five minutes of watching, I knew my next dieting adventure was about to begin.

I’m not really motivated to lose weight anymore just so I can look good, I’m past that sort of vanity. I don’t want sculpted abs. I have abs, I think, somewhere in the abdominal region. I’m just not inclined to put in the work it would require to procure them or bring them to the surface. Besides, 95% of the women that I would be interested in, if I wasn’t married, that is, would find me repulsive because I am old, I will be fifty in a few weeks, and because I don’t like to go out for anything but movies and dinner. Younger women like to do things, things I hate. What in the world would we talk about? I would ask questions like, “Who is this Selena Gomez character anyway?” or “Why do I need Instagram when I already have Facebook?” She would ask me things like, “So there was really a time before cable?” or “Can we, just once, go out to dinner after 7:30?”

When I was young, if we wanted to attract females, we unbuttoned our shirts, flashed some chest hair and slathered ourselves in a half a bottle of Drakkar. No one cared if you cooked and cleaned, in fact, it was perceived as a character flaw if you did. We were men and if we were looking for female companionship, we went out and actually talked our way into it. We didn’t need toys like Tinder, we were Tinder.

I was never a big club guy but I cannot imagine the horror of dating a younger women and having to go clubbing today. I hate loud noises and clubs permeate with loud, awful music. There isn’t anything to do there but drink and dance. I don’t drink and dancing is dumb. One of my favorite lines from Seinfeld is:

Jerry – I can’t believe that we’re going dancing!

Jerry’s girlfriend (I don’t remember her name and do not care to look it up) – Why because it’s so much fun?

Jerry – No, because it’s so stupid.

No, I am not vain but I am as cheap as the day is long and I aspire to be even more frugal someday. I plopped down, and when I say plopped I mean collapsed, on a picnic blanket at a recent outdoor Steely Dan concert and the side of my pants ripped, I assume because I am apparently becoming larger, sort of like if you dropped an overly laden water balloon on the driveway. My first thought was not that I was fat but rather, “dammit, now I have to buy new pants!”

I have always been a floater weight-wise, bouncing in between 205 and 220 for the last ten years and that basically coincides with the fitment of my pants. Once I get to the limits of dungaree comfortability, most of the time on the high side, in fact, I can’t think of having to ever gain weight to fit my clothes, I know that it’s time to start watching what I eat. It really is the only reason I opt to be slimmer. I don’t have to look at myself, other people do and that’s their problem. If I happen to catch a quick glimpse of myself in the mirror, I immediately turn away and start thinking about baseball statistics until the shame passes. The same kind of technique one would use to prolong their sexual stamina. By the way, just in case you care, that never works.

I get the feeling that it’s time to lose weight again when my belt starts to cut into my spinal cord. My tighter belts are shaped like question marks because they are contorted by the vast amount of pressure my burgeoning abdomen puts on them. They fit right against the flat of my back but the leather has to make some dramatic and dangerous turns in order to navigate my lumpy front. It’s not a pretty job being my belt. Only the best need apply.

Speaking of being fifty, I’m really not having any emotional or mental issues when it comes to hitting the “Big 5-0”. I don’t long for a sports car, a hair weave and a twenty year old hanging on my arm. I think I’m safe from the mid-life crisis. Plus, I look at the pictures of myself when I was in high school and, to be frank, I was a giant dork. I was always a snappy dresser. I am now and would have been then, a member of the Sock of the Month Club and if that doesn’t scream snazzy, I don’t know what does, but my hair and glasses were socially debilitating, and I barely spoke to anyone. Ugh. I must say that, I think, I look better now than ever. I’ve kept most of my hair and it has a nice touch of gray to it brought on by big gains in wisdom. I wouldn’t trade wisdom for youth for anything in the world.

So this Fed Up thing has me living without sugar now. According to FU, I will appropriately call it FU from now on, sugar is not just in your donuts, cakes, pies and everything else considered delicious, no, apparently, a slice of white bread has more sugar, once broken down in your body, than a Snickers candy bar. Oh, and sugar, raises your insulin levels exponentially resulting in diabetes, obesity and all other kinds of debilitating maladies. When I heard the word, obesity, I thought, could this possibly be my next foray into dieting? I told you, when I watch a documentary, I watch that effing thing, man.

I made lists. I love making lists. I jotted down every food that is permissible on a low glycemic diet. Your meats, cheeses, veggies and fruits basically. Given that I can tolerate about three vegetables, that list is a short one. I made the grocery list and went in full bore.

One week update –

So I’ve been riding the no sugar wave now for a total of one week and I have been watching the progress on the scale every morning, does anyone else weigh themselves while on a diet hoping to have not lost weight so you can say that the whole thing is total bullshit and go back to eating the food you love? I do. Every morning.

I was half disappointed to find that I had lost eleven pounds. I mean, I’ll take the eleven pound loss but would have been just as happy to see that FU had lied to me and I could stop at Dunkin donuts on my way to work.

Now I’m stuck on this thing until the weight loss comes to a grinding halt, until I watch another documentary or if someone were to offer me a thick slab of apple crumb pie.

Random Thoughts on Dreams and My Eye

Random Thoughts


I don’t have any recollection of my dreams. Some days I wake up and my mood is set by whatever was going on in my head while I was sleeping but I have no idea why. I can wake up sad, glad or mad and in the cases of sad and mad, I would like to know what the effing deal is so I can move on.

Have you ever written a song in a dream? It’s like the most amazing sounding thing ever, so good that Jesus is playing a mean lead guitar and singing back-up but when you wake up you can’t remember a damn thing.

My inability to remember my somnambulative adventures is so weak that I can only recall a handful of dreams I’ve ever had in my entire life.

About thirty years ago I had a dream that I was walking around a foggy version of the neighborhood that I grew up in. This, first off, is clearly a dream as I don’t walk anywhere. Why would I pay for a car and then go for a walk? Exercise? C’mon. Anyway, I walk by my mom’s friend’s Judy’s house, and she invites me in for a coffee. When I was a kid Judy used to give me a cup of those International Foods flavored coffees which made me think I was a pretty big deal, drinking coffee and all, like an adult. So she sits me down at the dining room table, gives me my coffee and proceeds to tell me that she’s going away and won’t see me anymore.

Pretty standard dream I guess until I get to work the next morning and my mom calls and tells me, “Judy died in her sleep last night.” She wasn’t ill and was in her early fifties. Weird. How did this happen? Why can’t this happen more? I mean, not the Judy dying part but the cognitive ability to tap into this kind of information. Like I wouldn’t mind knowing who’s going to win in the third at Belmont tomorrow or which team to throw a large amount of money on in the next Superbowl. It was nice and all of Judy to come tell me goodbye but, all I’m saying is, maybe she could have dropped a little financially beneficial knowledge on me on my way out the door. Like, “Oh, hey, Jonathan, by the way, you might want to lay a little cash down on this company that’s going to have an IPO in a few years, remember the name Apple.” Would that have been so hard?

I think I was in the third grade? Maybe fourth? Somewhere in that eight or nine year old wheelhouse. I was playing intermural hockey and was a blue line right winger. Blue line being second team kind of thing. So one Saturday morning game I go crazy and score three goals in my limited playing time. As I remember it, two of the goals I scored went down because the goalie was actually picking his nose when I blew a meteoric slap shot right past his non-existent defense but the coach didn’t notice the nose picking and thought I really had some skills. Life is not always about being good, moist of the time it’s about somebody else not paying attention. I was immediately promoted to the red line. Red line being a starter for those of you from Akron.

In my mind, I was the next Gordie Howe. Gordie Howe being one of the all-time great professional hockey players but probably a non-entity to anyone under the age of forty. Kind of like my grandmothers favorite actor was some guy named Tom Mix. Who the hell is Tom Mix?

This was also, in my mind, the time to start worrying about the next game. If I was to keep this goal scoring frenzy up, I would need some kind of goal scoring plan and I was not sure if I could count on the next goalie to be struggling with a sinus issue.

The night before “the big game” which is stupid anyway because I was eight and nothing should be that serious at eight, I had a horrifying dream that I remember as vividly today as if it just happened last night. I was skating around the ice warming up for the game when I realized that I had forgotten my hockey pants. This wasn’t one of those “forgot my pants but still had my underwear on” kind of frustration dreams, I had nothing on but my sweater and skates. As I continued to glide around the ice, I suddenly became aware that no one had noticed. That’s when I noticed my grandmother in the stands cheering me on. I mean, if my grandmother hadn’t noticed then I was pretty confident that I could probably play this whole game half naked, score a ton of goals off of some snot eating goalie, get carried triumphantly off the ice on the shoulders of my teammates then quickly run to the locker room to throw on some pants. My fans would be so enthralled with my greatness that they would be blind to my nakedness, sort of like the statue of David.

My grandmother had other ideas though. Oddly she was setting up a hot dog kiosk in the stands. Strange, I thought, but even she should be able to financially capitalize on the greatness of her extremely gifted grandson. I mean wouldn’t you rather buy your hot dogs from the grandmother of the greatest hockey player to ever grace the ice? Don’t they taste better that way? However, to my horror, my sweet grandmother started hurling ketchup covered hot dogs, without the bun I might add, at my bare ass. All around the ice there was a trail of steaming hot dogs and ketchup. People were in hysterics and I looked like a chump.

As if the pressure of being the new starting right wing weren’t enough I was now having dreams about my sexual identity? Is this really happening? All the next day, game day, and still to this day, instead of playing the game of my life, I’m sitting there mentally punishing myself with the question, “is my grandmother trying to tell me that I’m a gay right wing?”

My Eyes

In the eighth grade I had to get glasses. I was for all intents and purposes, blind. You could have taken two of those clear glass restaurant ashtrays, wrapped a couple of black pipe cleaners around them and tied them to my face and I might have been able to see correctly. At the eye doctor, of course I opted for the douchiest pair I could find, black, metal rimmed glasses that with gray tinted lenses and made me look like a fourteen year old Russian porn star. You could have taken these glasses of mine outside and burned ants with them the lenses were so thick.

I got braces in the ninth grade to go along with the telescope fastened to my head which pushed me into a dork spiral that I didn’t recover from until I went to college. I still had the glasses in college but at least I had straight teeth. My mom told me that chicks dig straight teeth. Apparently even she knew I was a tard.

When I was 35 or so and had become accustomed to the burden of horrible vision, I came home from work and decided that I would get a little sun before dinner. It was one of those hot and steamy summer days like in the high 90’s and within 30 minutes, I was sick to the point of throwing up. I head inside to take a nap in the air-conditioning and wake up a half an hour later to absolutely perfect vision. I mean better than 20/20 vision like I’m an effing superhero or something. I, of course, am freaked out by the whole affair because I am certain that I have a giant tumor pressing against my optic nerve temporarily giving me this glorious vision. Clearly as the tumor grows, my vision will ebb back to virtual blindness but, by then, I won’t care because by then I will in the throes of death from a cripplingly painful form of eye cancer.

I go and see an eye doctor and tell him the whole scenario. Bear in mind that this guy is old, he has seen every eye issue known to man and probably fitted people with monocles before the advent of dual lens glasses, and he goes, “Hmm, not really sure what happened. Saw it once before but that guy died a few months later.” WTF!!! And I’m paying for this kind of help? It took this idiot twenty minutes of jamming lights and wind into my eyeball before I said, “Look man, be straight with me. This guy, did he die a slow and painful death wasting away to nothing as the cancer ate away at his body? I mean, I need to know what’s going to happen to me so stop fucking around with my eye and finish your stupid story!!”

Let me first say that I don’t think eye doctors are used to being spoken to like this but he literally just told me that the only person he’s ever seen self-heal their eye in his 150 or however many year career died and I was inconsolable. “I mean, how can you be so flippant about this? You just told me I have head cancer and all you keep doing is shoving that pen thing in my eye!”

Looking up from his glasses, he goes, “Who that guy? Oh his wife’s boyfriend ran him over with the car. Dead before he hit the pavement”

Random Thoughts – Is it a Conway Twitty song or a porno movie title?

Conway Twitty Song Or Porno Movie Title?

I’m not sure how many of you are familiar with the musical stylings of, one, Mr. Conway Twitty but he was a pretty big deal in the country music business way back when. You might also recognize the name from the many Family Guy episodes where they headline some of his more popular ballads. I’ve always wondered if they’re making fun of him or if they’re serious fans, can’t tell which.

When I was a kid there was a television program called Hee-Haw, sort of a gritter variety show, and Conway Twitty was a frequent and popular guest. He was gross with some seriously crooked, brown country teeth, which probably explains why he never smiled, but women loved him and men wanted to be him, just like Apollo Creed. I appreciate people with bad teeth who go to the trouble of disguising it from me, mostly by not smiling or by covering their disfigured, brown, little niblits when they laugh. The British don’t care. Their teeth look like a broken bicycle chain and haven’t a thought in the world of covering it up.

My grandparents were country music fans, more specifically bluegrass, and they liked to watch Hee-Haw. I remember being over there one evening, either Saturday or Sunday, can’t remember which night it was on and really didn’t think it was worth the effort to look it up, but Conway was on and I had to be quiet so my grandmother could listen to him croon. Like I said, chicks dug him. I say “dug” him because he’s dead now.

My buddy Scott and I tried to make a run of liking old school country music a few months ago as I already had an affinity for George Jones and Lyle Lovett. I can get into any kind of music as long as it’s good. My theory with regard to music is, good is good no matter what genre it is. It’s a simple theory from a simple man. We settled on starting off with Conway Twitty because I remember him purveying records on television twenty years back and figured that he must be good because of that plus he had an amazing head of hair. We also liked his “eff you” smirk that he used on every album cover. He was clearly implying, “yeah, I know I’m a douche but I get laid every time the wind blows and you’re a big giant loser.”

Our obsession carried into Scott going to some effort to draw Twitty style hair on a few of our friends. This is Shane Murphy sporting Conway’s flowing locks. Shane is normally purposely bald but has the “eff you” look on his face because he’s posing for a picture at work. Work is the worst place smile, no one is happy.

shane twittyconway twotty

We fired up Spotify and just let Conway go at it. I must say, it was just dreadful. It was one of those times where, if it continued much longer, you would just opt for death instead of this.

I also sensed an overpowering feeling of being less of a man in comparison to this titan of country music and I also noticed that I was having a hard time distinguishing his rather graphic song titles from what could be titles of porno movies. Who did this guy think he was!?

So I figured we could play a little game. The challenge is simple, guess whether the title is a Conway Twitty song or the title of a porno movie. The answers will be provided at the end so keep close track of your answers.

“How Much More Can She Stand”

I know, right? You thought this was going to be easy but this guy didn’t sing your typical “down in the dumps because my girl left me and the law found my still” kind of country music. Maybe this is a song describing how his poor wife, Mrs. Conway Twitty, can’t stand his philandering ways any longer because, let’s face it, this guy was probably banging everything that moved. Of course this could also be the title of some underground, gang bang, snuff film.

“You’ve Never Been This Far Before”

Two choices here. Is this one of those porno movies where the girl is barely eighteen and babysitting for some giant creeper? Typically the wife drank too much at the party, collapsed in bed and now he can’t drive the poor girl home because there’s a bad storm outside so he decides to, for all intents and purposes, rape her. Or is it an inspirational Conway Twitty song about the first time he’d ever been out of his two bit coal mining town, Jawharp, Mississippi, breaking the shackles of his abusive pappy and hitchhiking to Nashville to be the music star they told him he couldn’t be? Tough call, right?

“I Can’t Believe She Gives It All To Me”

Are you noticing a theme here? Are we talking about her paycheck, her love or her lady parts? Clearly, a stud like Conway would be interested in all three but a porno would focus only on her lady parts.

“I’d Just Love To Lay You Down”

Now, this one seems a bit easier to discern but let us not forget about that genre of porn made specifically for women and their more romantic side. The kind where the guy is actually good looking instead of some troglodytic retard with nothing more to offer than a giant unit. In chick porn, the hot parts revolve around going shopping, then stopping over at her mom’s for lunch. Once they get home, he cooks dinner and rubs her feet while she tells him why he sucks. Then he cuddles her till she goes to sleep while watching DVR’d episodes of The View. Of course, he’s a billionaire, spends frivolously on her and never talks except to compliment her.

She would like him to be more assertive like Christian in Shades of Grey but every time he opens his mouth she tells him to shut up and wishes he was dead. Sexual bliss!!

“Rest Your Love On Me”

I think this one comes down to exactly what is the definition of the word “love” in this title. Is it a euphemism for some guys junk or is Conway just getting weird here, the existential Conway like after he met Ravi Shankar, or was that The Beatles? How does one rest their love on another person? As if love was an elbow or a head.

Red Neckin’ Love Makin’ Night

I can see the box cover of this porno / album. A giant, ape like hillbilly in a red flannel shirt sporting a sweaty, farm stained John Deere hat, holding some drunken gritter chick, her name is Brittany or Tiffany and she has an illegitimate son named DJ and he has a blond rattail,  under his arm and a beer in the other. He’s hooting and hollering about blowing something up with illegal fireworks, gritters love fireworks, or at his rage at the loss of the Confederate flag and the legalization of gay marriage. In the movie / album, he drives an American pick-up truck with a gun rack, of course, and a bumper sticker that says something like, “If you weren’t born here, get the fuck out!” He has a caricature taped to the inside of his locker down at the mill of Uncle Sam strangling Bernie Sanders. She is surely dressed like Daisy Duke, is as dumb as a stump but loves sex.

Wait, am I talking about porn or Conway Twitty. I feel confused because from the description, I can’t tell. Good luck on that one.

“She’s Got A Single Thing On Her Mind”


This should be a no-brainer as a porno but it could also quite easily be a Conway Twitty ballad about a hillbilly chick out for a night on the town, skulking around the local saloons looking for love. Of course, she’s seven months pregnant but still wearing skin tight sequined clothes, drinks like a fish and smokes like a factory and she and her “old man” have had an on-again / off–again thing going since she was fourteen.

He’s kicked her ass a few times where the law had to get involved. Charges were filed but she always drops them and blames herself. “It’s my fault. Zeke asked for the puffy Cheetos and I bought the crunchy ones. I deserved it. I loves him. He’s a good man who got pushed too far.”

“It Turns Me Inside Out”

Conway Twitty song or BBC porn, and not the British Broadcasting Network for those of you from Akron, shown from the woman’s point of view?

“Something Strange Got Into Her Last Night”

This may be my favorite of the bunch. I mean, even if this is a Conway Twitty ditty how can it possibly be innocent? Maybe Big CT, at last, had his lifelong cuckolding fantasy fulfilled watching the misses get railed then chose to celebrate in song. This could easily be a run of the mill porno as well, though it could serve as both.

“I’m Not Through Loving You Yet”

Conway Twitty tune or a nasty BDSM movie?

“I Vibrate”

How can this possibly be a country music song? Maybe it’s a parody on the Will Smith movie, I Robot? Porn parody is a pretty popular genre covering all kinds of mainstream subjects with sexual spoof.

Some of my favorites are Schindler’s Fist, Ally McFeel, Free Your Willy and Edward Penishands.

“I’ve Already Loved You In My Mind”

Solo girl porno or another classic by Conway? Either way, somebody is clearly masturbating here.

“Long Black Train”

Okay, this is the hardest, all puns aside, on the list. I am going to allow your imaginations to run with this one as my taking the time to lay out the obvious porn scenario is a waste of time and surely country music songsters love to sing about trains. Good luck.

Okay, get your responses ready because I’m about to reveal the much anticipated answers. Drumroll please……

Ha! They’re all Conway Twitty songs. I was just funnin’ with you. This guy was either a serious twisted in the head psychopath or was one of the most naïve people to ever walk the face of the earth. I mean, how he could have written a song titled “Long Black Train” and not thought to himself, “Self, maybe I need a different title to this cut because it sounds a lot like a hardcore porno movie.”

Was anybody who spent any amount of time around this guy like, “Dude, you need to seriously re-think some of these song titles. The one, “I Ain’t Done Loving You Yet” clearly reeks of kidnapping and violent rape.”

“Now I know why I lose chick to guys like you. It’s not just the uniforms, it’s the stories you tell. Lee Harvey! That time when you and your buddies tried to make it with that cow? I want to party with you wild man.”

Things That Took Too Long To Invent

Things That Took Way Too Long To Be Invented

I am fascinated with the famous statement “necessity is the mother of invention.” Basically it means that a need will create a solution. Since people need more capacity to store their electronic data, engineers continually produce better, faster and larger hard-drives to fill that need. Pretty simple right? Wrong. Porn gave us video tapes and then DVD’s and let’s face it, it drives the internet. I read that still over 70% of the activity on the internet is porn driven. However you may feel about porn, we wouldn’t have much of an internet without it.

I have been and continue to be amazed at just how long some things take to come into being. Fire. That one I can see taking a while to discover. Airplanes? Same deal. Computers, Roku’s, cell phones even the little beeper thing I use to unlock my car, I understand that it took a while to throw the technology together to invent those kinds of things. Plus, and most importantly, there has to be a need. While some Paleolithic dude may have sat around watching birds fly wishing he could do the same, I seriously doubt that he wished for remote start device for the family minivan. Mostly because minivans hadn’t been invented yet but also because Paleolithic guy probably wasn’t as effing lazy as we are today and would have, if given the opportunity, just start his shit himself.

I’ve never invented anything, though I like to say that the idea for being able to digitally record television shows was my idea. I originally wanted it for the radio so that I could hit a button and re-listen to a cool song but it’s the same thing.

Whatever happened to water powered cars and food machines like the ones they have on Star Trek? How about a cure for fucking cancer? I’ve got this stupid Keurig thing that makes one cup of delicious coffee at a time and my neighbor is dying from his liver being eaten out by voracious cancer cells. Weird corollary, I know, but it just seems like if they can’t mass produce it, then no one cares to invent it.

Anywho, I threw together a quick list of the Top Things That Took Too Long To Invent. The advent of these things is beyond my comprehension as to why it took so effing long to for some genius to come up with it. I get angry and disappointed in humanity as I think about it and when I get that feeling, it’s time to make another list.

The doorknob

Are you aware that the doorknob wasn’t invented until 1878?! 1878? Really? Surely the door itself was invented sometime after somebody got sick of the Jehovah’s Witnesses just walking through an open hole or right after the first house was built which had to be somewhere in the vicinity of about ten thousand years ago or before.

For the sake of a peaceful argument, let’s just say that the first house was thrown together five thousand years ago; surely the Egyptians had doors. In almost seven thousand years of door history, you mean to tell me that not one guy had had enough of being robbed and in his frustration and need designed a mechanism that would make it so his door shut and stayed that way until he decided that it was time to open it? SEVEN THOUSAND YEARS!

Just to offer a little perspective here, on May 27th, 1843 the patent was issued to Alexander Bain for the Electric Printing Telegraph which we today refer to as the fax machine. So the fax machine, albeit in its crudest form, was invented thirty five years before the simple fucking doorknob? So unbelievably dumb that it makes me despise humanity even more.

The wheel

By all accounts the oldest discovered wheel was found in what was Mesopotamia and dates back to the year 3500 B.C. Of all of the inventions that were slow to come, this one makes me angrier than any. So, the Egyptians built the pyramids by just dragging twenty ton boulders around with what? Rope? In every description or movie involving American Indians, they dragged stuff around behind their horses on sticks with a piece of animal skin tied between them.

How on God’s earth did it take so effing long to invent something as simple as a round wheel? Did the square wheel come first? I have a fairly big yard and spend way too much time in it in order to maintain it. Let me tell you something that I know for sure. I would have to spend about an hour pushing a lawn mower guided by sticks before I thought of an easier way, aka, the wheel. Even the stupid Dung Beetle forms the poo it lays its eggs in into a ball shape for easier movement. Am I to believe that ancient man was even more stupid than the lowly Dung Beetle? Apparently, yes. I don’t know why I’m surprised because even today, most of humanity is captivated by the machinations of Kim and Kanye.

The fork

I had to Google the answer to this quandary and was even more amazed than I was before I started my search. I found that the fork was not invented until the fourth century and not B.C. time either. There are rumors that the personal eating fork may actually go back to ancient Greece but still, this is a tool that, frankly, should have come about the first time somebody sat down for dinner.

People have obviously been eating for thousands of years. Again we’ll go back to the end of the last ice age around 10,000 B.C. as our starting point. So it took, and let’s be liberal here and go with the Greeks, over nine thousand years for someone to think, “Eating would be so much easier if I had something to stab my food with.” I think that person, whoever they were, had to be a germaphobe or a wife who was sick of her dirty assed husband sticking his hands in everyone’s lunch.

Chopsticks are stupid too. So the chopstick, more than likely, predates the fork, I’m assuming here though. Not one Asian person after struggling with these fucking sticks to eat their food and seeing a European using this new-fangled thing called a fork never thought to chuck the sticks and start eating right? Dammit!!! Today we use them to enhance the experience of eating in a Chinese restaurant but they are seriously the most inefficient tools ever made. What’s the deal with that giant spoon they give you to eat that watered down soup? It barely fits in your mouth. The Chinese may have made some real advancements with pasta and gunpowder and all but they are seriously lacking in the utensil department.


I did a little bit of research on the advent of pants and the general consensus is that they were invented for horseback riding about three thousand years ago. This is astounding to me. You mean to tell me that freezing to death wasn’t the impetus for pants? Holy hell! People are so effing dumb. Like it’s okay to freeze to death but, God forbid that I would chafe while riding a horse. I simply cannot understand how this is possible. My 18 month old granddaughter knows how to wrap herself in a blanket when she’s cold so wouldn’t you’d think it’s entirely possible that a grown-up would be able to take that up a notch and invent fucking pants!

The can opener

There are other inventions that I considered putting on this list but I have a hard fast rule that I stick to, Top 5. Are you aware that self-adhesive postage stamps weren’t invented until 1993? I suppose some of the delay is easily assigned to the government as they run and manage (sarcasm intended) the Postal Service but damn. 1993? I guess it wouldn’t have been such a big deal if somebody in the government had bothered to invent a glue that didn’t taste like ass when you licked it.

The printing press wasn’t invented until the 1400’s. People actually hand copied books until then. Hand copied! You make me start hand copying a Bible and I can promise that by the time I hit Genesis chapter two, I will have invented something to make this easier. Again, in eleven thousand years of book copying no one ever thought of carving some letters into a potato and dipping it in ink?

The can opener is the most egregious violator of human intelligence ever. In 1810 a guy named Nicholas Appert won a twelve thousand franc prize from Napoleon for designing a way to preserve food long enough so that it could reach the front lines before it spoiled, hence the tin can was invented.

Problem was that even though the fighting men on the front lines now had access to fresh food they had no way to open the stupid thing. No one thought to devise a way to open the can without shooting it and exploding the contents all over creation. So they traded one problem for another, well more like one problem for two problems because now, not only could they not open the can but if they did somehow manage to get it open, lead poisoning would probably kill them. You see, it took a couple of decades more to come out with a non-lethal can.

Amazingly, it took forty years, to invent an implement that would be called a can opener. Forty years? You have got to be kidding me! Seriously, how could this have gone on for more than a week without resolution? This is like coming out with a cell for my iPhone case back in the 60’s and selling it to me on the premise that it will come in handy in a few decades.

“Hold up! Hey! Who’s been putting out their Kools on my floor?!?!”

So Bill Cosby Is A Rapist?

So Bill Cosby Is A Rapist?

I know what the picture of a molester is supposed to look like. You have monsters like John Wayne Gacy who back in the 70’s sexually assaulted and murdered over 30 teenage boys and buried their remains in his dirt floored basement. This guy made his living as a clown for little kids parties and once he was charged and tried for his crimes, was labeled The Killer Clown. Horrible story? Yes. But not really out of the realm of believability. The guy lived with his mom. Hint number one. He found work that allowed him to move in adolescent circles. Hint number two.

I’m sorry but anybody who makes their living off of hanging out with little kids and that gig doesn’t involve an extensive background check, I suspect shenanigans.

I can say that in all of my years of creating Top 5 lists that I never even considered the idea that I should throw one together of the all-time biggest celebrity creeps but when Bill Cosby was outed this week as being the giant predator that he apparently really is, I thought it was about time to do a little research. I found pretty quickly that I didn’t even need to go to the Internet this time though as I had been subconsciously keeping this list in my head for years, Cosby and Jared from Subway just helped bring it to the surface and for that I owe them a debt of gratitude. In no particular order because I’m pretty sure that I can’t assign a degree to the sin of molesting someone, here we go…

Pee Wee Herman

This guy’s real name is Paul Reubens which may come as a surprise to some of you who understandably assumed that his given name was Pee Wee. So this guy was a really big deal back in the late 80’s and early 90’s. He had what I still to this day think was a kick ass show, Pee Wee’s Playhouse. Of course given the nature of Pee Wee’s crimes, he was all about the kiddies.

In 1991 Mr. Reubens was arrested for exposing himself in an adult theater. I don’t have a problem with a person exposing themselves in a porno theater. Let’s face it, you’re not there for the cinematography, you’re there to watch porn. And porn watching usually leads to things that leave one “exposed.” Pee Wee was arrested for jerking it in a theater. Okay, fine whatever. Just thank God for the Internet so people can do this in the comfort of their own homes now.

What happened to these adult theaters anyway? They actually used to have listing in the paper for porno show times right next to the legit stuff when I was a kid. I’d go to the paper, back when the newspaper was the only way to get the skinny on movie times, to see what time Star Wars was showing and inevitably end up asking my father just why exactly we couldn’t go see Assablanca.

Porno movies that are parodies of real movies are some of the most creative thinking we have going on in the world today. I think my favorite is the XXX version of the classic movie Forrest Gump brilliantly titled, Sorest Rump. Or how about Throbin Hood? Shaving Ryan’s Privates, Good Will Humping, Ass Ventura or this oldie but goodie, Edward Penis Hands. This is modern day Shakespeare going on here.

Anyway, back to Pee Wee, ten years later in like 2001, the police raided his house and found all kinds of kiddie porn. First, how do the police know to raid your house? You are totally effed up if that’s going down. They didn’t just stumble on your fucked uppedness, they studied on you and shit for a while before they kicked your door in.

Kiddie porn Pee Wee? You are and have been ever since, dead to me and if it were up to me, you would have been castrated before you ever saw the light of day again. Always be leery of those who hang around kids too much. I love my kids. I love my granddaughter but I need a break sometimes dammit or they will run you into the ground.

Asshole number two is:

Jeffery Jones

Right? Who the hell is Jeffery Jones? Never heard of him you say? Is there anyone out there who hasn’t seen the cult classic Ferris Bueller’s Day Off at least ten times? Well, Jeffery Jones played Principle Rooney in that movie. That’s right Principle Rooney is a sex offender.

This creeper had to register as a sex offender back in 2004 for hiring a teenage boy to pose nude for him while he took explicit pictures. What goes through one’s mind that says, “Yeah, this is cool. Nobody will think this is wrong.” At what point does your penis interfere with your ability to reason in a lucid manner enough to think that even though you’re a famous celebrity, no one will ever find out that you’re taking naked pictures of little boys? How did he find this kid anyway? Did he run an ad in the local Sun Times? How did he make it enticing enough to generate any interest? What teenage boy is reading the classified section of the newspaper anyway?

Tired of playing in the same old paper delivering rat race? Looking for easy money? If you’re a boy between the ages of 12 and 15 and comfortable with your body, this is the gig for you. Possible sodomy if interested. Those with man hair need not apply. Prefer testicles to not have dropped.

Jared from Subway

This is pretty recent news and I must say that I was not really surprised. Not that I ever, even for one second, thought that the most famous purveyor of sandwiches was using his powers for evil and found naked children enticing. He just struck me as a sort of lumpy, fat loser who discovered a way to melt away his considerable poundage by eating disgusting subs. Even thin he still looked fat. Like he had a lot of lose skin or something.

I have tried every diet known to man except the Subway thing. First, their food is abhorrent. There is a Subway near my work and I would frequent it two or three times a month mostly because it was close by. Problem was that the guy assembling my rather flavorless and unsatisfying meal always had a circular Band-Aid over a particular spot on his left cheek and whatever it was covering never seemed to heal enough for him to go without it. I have enough of an issue with germs to begin with but this thing was really weighing heavy on my mind. My desire to know just what he was hiding under that bandage was at that point outweighing the horror of that thing falling off into my sandwich so I kept going back and going back even more than ever.

Finally, one day while waiting in line for another foul assed sub, I noticed that the bandage was dangling by a few unkempt stray hairs of his beard. This was my chance to see what this poor bastard was hiding all these months. When I, at last, was close enough to get a bead on it, was horrified to see that the bandage was covering a hole in his face! I swear I could see his teeth if the light hit it just right! I had been letting Freddy Krueger make my lunch for me on a fairly regular basis. I left before ordering and have never been back.

What did this Jared animal do before he picked up this Subway gig? We know it wasn’t anything in the field of fitness unless one can make a living posing for “before” pictures. No, I see him, in light of finding out his proclivity for naked children, as a department store Santa. Certainly he was fat enough and he seems jolly.

Who in the hell wants to be Santa Claus anyway? What a stupid job if you think about it. Like, you work for like a month every year. Not enough to support yourself and I’d be surprised if it paid better than minimum wage. Your good Santa’s have a real beard and I just can’t comprehend maintaining that stupid thing all year just so you can play Santa for the five weeks after Thanksgiving. And how stupid do these professional Santa’s look rolling around in Hawaiian shirts in June? And inevitably some dumbass upon seeing June Santa says something to the effect of, “Hey kids look, Santa must be on vacation!” Hearing this kills my will to live. Let’s not forget that the five weeks when you actually get to live out the ridiculous fantasy of being Santa is spent either listening to bad kids spewing out their unrealistic demands or crying in holy terror. I fail to see the fun.

So as a recap, Santa is paid an unlivable wage, has to walk around with that stupid beard all year long, is subjected to listening to asinine comments about his vacation destinations and gets kicked, pissed and cried on. The only kind of person willing to endure this kind of treatment has to be up to no good.

Bill Cosby

I’m not going to lie, I love Bill Cosby. The Cosby Show still ranks as one of my Top 5 sit-coms of all time. It suffered the same effects that any good show does in that characters leave or the kids grown up but it still is one of the best.

I also love to watch old re-runs of M.A.S.H and Leave it to Beaver and both of those shows suffered the same growing pains as The Cosby Show. Like when the Frank Burns character was written out of M.A.S.H. the show took a horrible turn for the worse. If I was the creator of the popular early 60’s show Leave it to Beaver I would have been pumping that little bastard full of anti-growth hormones because listening to him get in trouble for cutting his own hair is not funny when his voice has changed and he’s got man hairs. Listen Beaver, it just isn’t funny anymore. Time to move on and get a grown up job.

The Cosby Show got awful when Rudy started to grow a horrendously dark mustache. For some reason, deep facial hair on a girl kind of ruins the childhood innocence they were trying to convey. Cousin Pam was also responsible for the demise and I believe that this is the point when Bill may have started drugging women and taken sexual liberties with them. Rudy’s mustache may be responsible for dozens of sexual crimes.

What is this guy’s deal anyway? I mean, I guess he’s never been convicted of anything but he did pay out a large sum of money to buy some woman’s silence and to me, that’s as good as just coming out and admitting it. He is Bill F-ing Cosby! Why did he feel it necessary to ruffie women? Surely there are and were plenty of women lining up for a chance to trade sex for a chance to get their break in Hollywood, right? Is this guy so messed up that he actually got a little extra boner by slipping them a mickey first?

Let’s not forget that this guy has been vehemently denying these acquisitions for over a year now and has also made quite a reputation for himself as being a bit self-righteous in talking down to the African American community about what he thinks is an aberrant lifestyle. Can’t imagine there’s much sympathy coming Bill’s way at this point.

The British Parliament

This story is just now starting to get legs and is really quite disturbing. It seems that up to twenty current and former members of Parliament are on their way to serving time for participating in an elite pedophilia ring. These are like members of Congress! Raping little kids!

I think I’m done here.

“I’m a karate man! I bruise on the inside!”

Top 5 Reasons Why Seafood Sucks

Top 5 Reasons Why Seafood Is So Disgusting

I hate anything they call food that comes from the sea. I have never liked it and, at 50 years old, probably never will. I love going to the ocean but there is nothing more disgusting to me than being taken down by a wave and getting a mouth full of the briny deep. It tastes just awful and anything harvested from it for human consumption tastes exactly the same. I am less bothered that the world uses the world’s oceans as a toilet than I am with the taste of seafood and I have serious germ issues!

Once in a while I inevitably have to go along with the crowd and dine at one of these restaurants that trolls the world’s sewer for its menu offerings. While my friends and family binge on lobster, crab and God forbid, clams, I am content, instead, with a constant flow of cold beer and free bread.

Take caviar for instance, I used to go trout fishing a lot when I was a kid and once in a while I’d catch a bloated female that when cut open for cleaning would spill an indecent amount of fish eggs all over the ground. The egg sac would even make a popping sound when poked with the knife. Let’s not get lost here and gloss over the words “egg sac.” Egg sac? I don’t want to eat anything that has an egg sac.

Who had the bright idea to eat these raw fish eggs in the first place? Surely the scenario went down quite similar to my experiences as a youngster but I never once had to urge to scoop them up and start eating them. I was too busy gagging and lamenting the fact that I had just killed thousands of potential baby fish. Caviar is absolutely disgusting and I have NEVER understood the “royalty” involved with fish eggs, simply disgusting and I’ll never try them…”delicacy” my ass.

I don’t fish anymore because I believe you should eat what you catch and I just cannot stomach the rancid flavor or your local Red Lobster’s fare. Is there a worse name for a restaurant than Joe’s Crab Shack? It invokes thoughts of a bucket of rotting chum served up from some dark back room by a bearded sea farer with a wooden leg named Skully or Poop Deck Paddy.

I’ve heard that caviar should never been served with a metal spoon as it may give the raw fish eggs an unpleasant flavor. Really? First of all, any caviar I’ve ever seen comes in a metal can so what the eff? Secondly, give the caviar an unpleasant flavor? Its raw fish eggs and they are already profoundly unpleasant. Sticking a metal spoon into it can only make it better because it cannot possibly get any worse.

I have a suspicion that the people who clamor to the closest seafood buffet or those willing to pay $25 for a nice lobster don’t really like fish either if they were being honest with themselves. No, I believe that what they are really looking for is just an excuse to eat butter. Butter is delicious. It’s a rectangular slab of sweet, salty fat and there is nothing better. In fact, my parents would find my teeth marks in the butter when I was a little kid.

With that said….

Crab –

People love them some crab legs but I would like to point out one factor that most people seem to miss. A crab is nothing more than a wet spider. Both have eight legs, both are arachnids. Hello! You are eating a sea spider! Even if I could get past the feted flavor of these vile beasts, I would surely gag it all out when I remembered that I had just ingested a Daddy Longlegs. What’s the number one condiment when it comes to your crab eaters? That’s right, butter. I would also prefer to be able to dip my spider meat into butter before I ate it.

Lobster –

Continuing along the lines of ingested insects, a lobster is just a sea scorpion without the venom. Why doesn’t it need venom like its land bound cousin? Because it’s so disgusting on its own that no one in their right mind should be effing with them in the first place. It needs no defense.

Again, number one condiment for the wet scorpion? Butter.

Shrimp –

I like to compare a shrimp to a sea caterpillar but when you step on a caterpillar all that green juice squirts out so it would be unfair to apply that comparison. But it’s hard not to see the similarities in a worm like land insect with a shrimp with all the legs and grossness. Unlike your lobsters and crabs, though, people don’t shellac their shrimp in butter, instead they use cocktail sauce. I suspect it’s because shrimp carry an even stronger sense of the sea in their flavor and need the extra boost in cover-up ability offered by the cocktail sauce.

And the poop? So, as I understand shrimp, I have to make sure that these things have had their rectal cavity cleaned out before I shove it in my mouth? Ugh.

Snails –

Ugh. Snails are snails. Same on the land as on the sea. Disgusting and also used as an excuse to eat butter. I cannot imagine what these sea floor dwelling creatures must eat given that the ocean is the repository of much of our raw sewage.

Have you ever seen the tool used to strip these things from their shells? It looks like a complicated surgical instrument.

Sushi –

I have a coworker that ate 107 pieces of sushi out of his own free will, all the while looking like he was being punished and sitting in timeout.

I will be the first to admit that I wish I liked sushi. The packaging is outstanding with all the colors and such stuffed into a stubby little green tube. However, it is truly the most revolting of all fish options because it’s raw! The number one thing we are told is to not eat under-cooked meat and what do we do? Take it up a notch and just eat it raw. Cooking fish, at least in some circumstances, seems to cut down on the atrocious taste but cooking it also leads to your home smelling like a whorehouse at low-tide. When stuck between a rock and a hard place, I opt to starve.

The horrendous taste of sushi is very often covered up with the delicious condiment, wasabi. Little known fact, wasabi was invented during the late 1800’s as a way to cover up the taste of raw fish. In fact, in Japanese, the word “wasabi” literally means, “God, this fish tastes like shit.”

Butter and wasabi are to seafood what salsa is to tortilla chips. They are symbiotic, neither subsisting without the other. No one eats tortilla chips without salsa, they’re disgusting plain. Similarly, I have yet to see someone eat crab without a big tub of butter nearby because crabs sucks alone. Additionally, I like tartar sauce. Anything made with mayonnaise is delicious to me but I do not like it enough to eat fish and there really isn’t any other use for tartar sauce other than covering up the taste of fish.

I wish that I liked seafood, I really do. It looks fun with the aprons and all the tools you need to crack stuff open but there needs to be some reward for all that work and from where I sit all you’re getting is a mouthful of sea water.

“Didn’t I tell you the phone in my limousine was busted?”

“Yeah, what is you, ignorant?”

Random Thoughts – Actors and Politicians Do Not Mix

Random Thoughts on Actors Meddling in Politics

The whole game of politics is a joke to me. Throw a bunch of d-bags into a ring, let them spout off about all the amazing things they’re going to do for us, pick the dog with the least number of fleas and then watch them renege on every last thing they said. I can’t even tell the difference between the parties anymore as no matter who’s elected the deficit still goes up and young people still go and die in useless undefined wars in strange parts of the globe, aka, wherever there happens to be oil.

I used to be a rabid conservative and a devoted student of Ayn Rand’s Objectivism but have since decided that I am not rich enough to call myself a Republican anymore. They only care about corporate welfare and geopolitical undermining. The other side of the political coin doesn’t do much for me either. Leaky national borders and Obama Phones have left me disillusioned. I think what I have become is a humanitarian or whatever you want to call somebody who just wants to see people valued. I see no difference anymore between Republicans and Democrats, I just see money grubbing d-bags hell bent on promising the sheep the world and delivering nothing but their real agenda. “Sure we will do something about this student loan disaster but let me get to it as soon as I finish fucking around and destabilizing Ukraine.”

As I’ve said before, I will not and do not vote as I will not be party to these ridiculous charlatans and therefore not personally responsible when they eff everybody over. Obama, one of the Bush clan of idiots, Rand Paul, Hillary, they’re all just actors on a stage. A stage created to placate us into thinking that government actually gives a rat’s ass about us. Screw em all.

Speaking of actors, I am becoming increasingly incensed by the dalliances of actors into the political foray. This is nothing new as actors have stuck their noses into things that don’t involve them for decades. John Wilkes Booth was an actor and he shot Lincoln, so there is some history here. What annoys me are the George Clooney’s and Leo DiCaprio’s of the world thinking that we should listen to them about which idiot to vote for like they are in the know. Are any of you swayed by these shenanigans? If you are, you’re an idiot. Do any of you watch this circus and say to yourselves, “Leo says to vote for the Democrats because the Republicans suck. I liked The Wolf of Wall Street so I’m going all in on the liberals?”

I would be remiss if I didn’t call out the musicians who think it’s okay to charge me a hundred dollars to go to their show and then spend my valuable time telling me about how they think I should vote for such and such. I never was a really big Pearl Jam to begin with but Eddie Vedder is the biggest violator of such behavior. Yeah, great Ed, so I have to pay a ton of hard earned money to get in here and now I have to listen to you drone on about Darfur and freeing Tibet. Eat shit and start singing you asshole! Please don’t remind me that Pearl Jam has very low ticket prices, I know this already. Even if I got in free, I don’t want to listen to him telling me what he thinks is important. “Oh, Ed, I see you play the guitar and the ukulele? Please tell me how I should feel about the Keystone Pipeline project.”

I think what galls me more than anything is that they actually think we respect them. The self-important cloud they surround themselves with makes me seethe inside.

Writers note:

Surely this tactic of bringing in actors and musicians to back your political scam is a worthwhile tactic and if any of you are, indeed, swayed by this bullcrap, then you’re a fucking idiot and shouldn’t even have the right to vote. Just my opinion for what it’s worth.

Leonardo DiCaprio –

Recently I watched Leo DiCaprio addressing the U.N. on climate control and this guy looked and sounded like he was actually buying into the idea that he was an expert on the subject. I’m not sure where I stand on global warming as I see so many different studies with diametric results but I would hope to God that if there was a real story to tell that it wouldn’t come from a giant conceded douche bag like this guy. I like Leo’s movies. In fact, there are very few bad ones in the bunch and he’s a fine actor but you know what? I hate him now. I will never drop another cent to watch this work. Gilbert Grape can go eff himself. He is dead to me now. One last thing of relative interest, Leo dropped out of high school after three years but eventually got his GED. Cleary not the kind of educational background one would expect from someone addressing the U.N. about climate change. At least I think so. However, he was in a movie with Tom Hanks so…..

George Clooney –

George Clooney has, at this point in his rather lackluster career, made somewhere in the vicinity of, and I’m guessing here, thirty films. In those thirty films, there are exactly none that were any good. He’s the worst and most over-rated actor ever. It’s quite evident that he isn’t acting. He is the same bland and sterile a-hole in every role he plays. Basically, he is being himself. Helen Hunt has the same kind of boorish skills, she can’t act either. In every movie she’s ever been in she’s the same whiny bitch over and over again. How do either of these people keep getting work? George I can see, chicks dig him. Helen is a disaster and needs to just close up shop. So back to George, why is this guy spouting off to the U.N. and being invited to the White House? Is it solely because he’s cute? It certainly isn’t because of the quality of his film work. It seems, at least, unlike his little buddy, Leo, that George did manage to graduate from high school and even dabbled a bit in college but eventually quit to take up acting.

In his defense he, on paper, has quite a pedigree for politics as his dad was a game show host and his mom paraded herself around in beauty pageants. And this guy is influencing global agendas? God help us all.

Angelina Jolie –


Stacey Dash –

I would be doing a disservice if I focused my attentions only on your more liberal soap boxers even though they do seem to excel at making jackasses of themselves at a much higher rate than their conservative counterparts. Stacey Dash sits atop my Top 5 Hottest Actress list and also as the biggest blowhard for conservative causes from the ranks of Hollywood. I hesitated to even add her to my hottest list because, what has she really ever done? Playing Dionne in Clueless does not a career make. She had a nice spread in Playboy a few years back which, in her mind, seems to makes her an authority on all things conservative.

Stacey so infuriated the liberals last election with her proselytizing for Bush that she actually was receiving a rather regular flow of death threat Tweets. I follow her on Twitter for some reason, I think in hopes of having the inside track on more nude shots, but have found that all she does is re-post neo-conservative horseshit all the while glorifying whatever current war we happened to have stirred up for ourselves.

Susan Sarandon / Tim Robbins –

Her topless scenes in Pretty Baby and Atlantic City certainly prepared her to, and I’m laying on a heavy dose of sarcasm here, saunter down the halls of the White House during the Clinton administration. And while I would like to say that anybody who played Andy Dufresne in The Shawshank Redemption is a good egg in my book, I simply cannot. What makes these two windbags think they have any words of political wisdom to speak into our lives?

In the end, I guess my hatred for politics and misguided and self-important movie stars have collided. It’s like if you mixed battery acid with vinegar and told me to drink it.

Random Thoughts on Stupidity

Random Thoughts – Are We Becoming Dumber?

Thomas Jefferson once wrote, “If ignorance is bliss, why aren’t more people happy?” A brilliant observation for sure and it shows that stupidity has stood the test of time. He was equally as frustrated in his day as I am today.

In Jefferson’s day, people died of earaches and simple cuts. That doesn’t happen today because we’ve invented antibiotics to fix that problem. It’s amazing to me that today we have advanced medicines, have perfected flight and have even been to the moon and back but I can’t find a waiter who can get my order right the first time. Don’t come to my table and take my order without a pen and paper unless you plan on getting my order damn straight. I hate that and always want to say, “Will you please write this down? We will both be happier later when I don’t have to be a dick to you.” I hate a drive-thru too. Is it the bad communication device you’re using or please tell me why I have to say McChicken 17 times before you hear me properly?

Have you ever spoken to someone at Time Warner Cable? It makes me lose faith in humanity.

I read the other day that the collective IQ of western civilization is actually 14 points lower than that of 100 years ago. The theory is based on the work of Dr. Jan te Nijenhuis, professor of work and organizational psychology at the University of Amsterdam.

“The study examined results of 14 intelligence studies conducted between 1884 to 2004 that measured participants’ so-called visual reaction times. The test asked the participant to push a button after seeing a stimulus. In the 19th century, the average speed was 194 milliseconds, in 2004, 275 milliseconds.”

My understanding of a person’s IQ score is that is has little to do with knowing your state capitals or the genus of the bullfrog as those things are learned. IQ has more to do with your brains innate ability to reason and, hence, becomes a test that you cannot study for. I’m not a scientist, like Leonardo DiCaprio seems to think he is with all of his bullshit dalliances into climate change, but this “reaction time” test seems to fit the bill as something that would tap into our minds raw ability to reason and offer a proper IQ score.

My reaction to this story was, “duh.” Like, really? People are more stupid than ever? No way! Shocking! Like the other day when I gave the cashier $10.38 for cigarettes that cost $9.38 because I didn’t want a pocket full of change in return for a straight ten dollar bill. She gave me a blank, idiotic stare and said, “Uh, that’s too much.” Or when I sit behind some dumbass at a red light waiting for them to turn right and they just sit there? How did you pass your driver’s test you blowhole? They changed that law like 30 years ago, you can turn now!! How does this idiot even remember how to get to work? How do they even hold a job in the first place?

Have you ever watched the YouTube videos of people being asked simple junior high school history class questions? Stuff like, how many states are in the US or find Ethiopia on a map. As you listen to the answers and you laugh at first but then develop an uncontrollable urge to shove an ice pick into your skull just to put yourself out of your misery. I don’t want to co-exist with people who think we have 64 states or that Ethiopia is a colony on the moon.

I once had a conversation with a lady at the height of the ozone layer controversy, back in the late 80’s. She insisted that the Space Shuttle was responsible for the hole in our Earth’s protective layer and that the space program needed to be brought to an immediate halt before we all died of a hyper-sunburn. Like what do you think you retard, that the earth is surrounded by some protective Saran wrap being pilloried with NASA holes?! That was 30 years ago and I remember it like it just happened. Do you think she has ever looked back and thought, “God what an idiot that guy was?” I can assure you, no. She has blissfully lived as a complete moron since and will die one. I on the other hand think of it regularly as a testament to how I was created to suffer.

The median IQ in the United States is an embarrassing 98. 80 is considered mentally challenged which, broken down, means that half the people you encounter on a daily basis are literally hovering barely above being able to tie their own shoes. I did a little Googling and found that a dogs are assumed to have the human equivalent of an IQ falling someplace in the area of the mid to high 50’s. High 50’s?!?! The average human IQ is 98 and a dog is near 60? Am I in the Twilight Zone? Hell, perhaps?

They say that whales and dolphins have bigger brains than humans and are, therefore, smarter. That they have created their own languages and live in happy families. Well guess what? So have we. We have lots of different languages and families too. And guess what else? We have houses and cars, hospitals and governments. We win. I wonder, though, are there stupid dolphins? Are there Sperm Whales that can’t give proper change? Do dumb Killer Whales spend their time fascinated with the celebrity of Shamu like we do with Kim and Kanye? Do they ignore whale cops murdering whale citizens and walk, or swim as the case may be here, around completely blind to aquatic corruption?

Think about this, you’re accused of a crime you didn’t commit. All of the smart people know how to finagle the system and get out of jury duty. You’re left with your life hanging on a thread based on the reasoning skills of mindless troglodytic morons and angry, old people with an axe to grind. The thought of this keeps me up at night.

Writers note:

I have found the way to get out of jury duty, don’t vote. I haven’t voted since the second Reagan administration because I will not be made a fool of and have never been called to serve. Do you really think that “those truly in power” would dare give us a presidential candidate that they didn’t have in their back pocket? With trillions of dollars on the line would I, if I were one of “them,” risk going into an election not having full control of Jeb Bush or Hilary Clinton? Not a chance. It’s a sucker’s bet and I refuse to play.

When I read this study, you would think that my reaction would be more in the arena of, “aww, that’s terrible. People are suffering in ignorance.” But no, I jumped up out of my chair and screamed, “I KNEW IT!!” I’m the one who’s been suffering all along, not them!

I believe I have the answer to Jefferson’s conundrum. I postulate that when you’re stupid, you’re too dumb to know it. The opposite of intelligence isn’t happy, it’s numb.

“If his momma named him Cassius, then I’m gonna call him Cassius.”