Archive for the ‘The Coming Apocolypse’ Category

I know, it’s been a minute since my last post.  I’ve had a lot of stuff on my plate, biggest of which is my laziness.  Here a few things, one of which didn’t happen on Tuesday, that have me thinking, irritated, or really irritatedly thinking:

How the fuck is it one of the biggest upsets in history when a team beats, by three points, a team that it had lost to by . . . um, three points, six damn weeks ago?

Don’t even get me started on the idiocy that is the primary process (or for that matter the electoral) but why the hell is it a big surprise when a Baptist preacher wins a caucus and four primaries in states that are severely religious and, lets be honest, a bit backwards?  And before you start bitching, I happen to live in one ‘o them “backward” states and often visit another neighboring one.  I know what I speak type.

My gosh . . . when a tornado hits a shopping mall in a quiet, peaceful city, people start looting the stores and then shooting at each other to re-loot their loot.  Crazy.  Must be caused by all those strip clubs.  And yes, I am still bitter.


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For those of you that haven’t watched the news, read a newspaper, or have been too caught up in hearing Fergie on the radio singing about missing her blanket every hour on the hour to find a forecast, word is there’s a storm abrewin’. Check below :


That there is a hurricane.  His name is Dean.  Depending on where you live, he may be coming to a coastline near you.  Next is the path that Dean is supposed to be hopping along:

Dean's path

Now I say supposed because them hurricanes are a finicky bunch.  Just when you think you got where they are heading pegged, they take a turn.  Kind of like “Been there, done that.  Let’s go over here.”  Which brings us to our next nifty state-of-the-art picture:

Oh Shit

That area that I circled in a most professional fashion (I got mad photoshop skills, yo.) is where the experts believe Deano could possibly make landfall.  That’s after it makes initial landfall on the Yucatan Peninsula, but that’s in Mexico so we don’t care.  They are all over here anyway.  But I digress . . . .

So basically, if you live anywhere from here———————————————————–to————————————–here, I got something to tell you.  There’s a hurricane coming.  And there is a reason why hurri is the first part of the word hurricane.  All that wind and water will come at you in a hurry.  It will knock your shit down in a hurry.  So Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, etc, you’ve been warned.  You need to pack up and hurry the fuck out of town.  Just in case you are unsure of your exact geographical location and whether or not it’s in Dean’s path, there will be helpful men and women wearing rain slickers and holding cameras and microphones to help inform you of the potential possibility that it might land in your area, maybe.  That’ll give you time to run down and pick out which 50″ plasma-screen television you want, get a jump start on the looting.  Because being able to see all the disaster in 50-inches of Hi-Def glory definitely makes the lack of a roof, food, clean water, and electricity a bit easier to take.

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Over the last year or so, many of my weekend nights as a free-swinging bachelor have been spent with women of a certain ilk.  During some of these wild nights, it’s been asked if I have gotten any photographic evidence, which, on one occasion, I was fortunate enough to capture the moment in a picture.  I have just finished spending a Friday night with a female who is crazier and more spontaneous than those two of Nipplecest fame combined.  And not only did I get photographic proof of her depravity, I also got video.  Careful if scrolling down to take a look, it could possibly be NSFW . . . .

First, the craziness as still life . . . .

She then tried to disentangle what she had done . . . .

Then she just gives her self over totally and loses all self control . . . .

Depending on your point of view, she’s either a complete upgrade or downgrade in comparison to my typical Friday night retinue.  I like to think they make up one kick ass dichotomy.

That little pixie was My Toes and she got a little bossy.  The whole thing started when she told me my hair was a mess after I had removed my cap.  That brought back great memories of when she was 3-4 years-old and used to sigh heavily and roll her eyes if my hair wasn’t to her liking and then spend many minutes artfully brushing it straight down, giving me a little space in my bangs to peek out.  Since three years had passed, I guess she found that style outmoded and decided to catch me up to the times by putting my hair up.  That’s what I get for buying her that Bratz PlayStation game.  After removing her handiwork and returning my hair close to its former unkempt state, she told me I was no longer allowed to wear a hat.  She asked me why I wore it in the first place and was a bit incredulous when I told her that I wore it because I didn’t have time to fix my hair since I was in a hurry to come see her and her brother.  She decided to overlook her skepticism and told me that I could wear a hat only when I was in a hurry to come see them, but not at any other time would it be allowed.  She’s such a cute little tyrant.

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Nipplecest, Part Duex: The Forbidden Tales. They’re back! The Two wild women that first brought you This all-time classic return in yet another, sure-fire hit:


The question that begs to be answered is do I need to find new friends or do I need more friends of this persuasion? Ponder the possibilities . . . .

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I think that there was a post.  Yep, it sure was.  Yes, down below this little ditty is an actual post.  I thunk and typed it all myself.  And you only had to wait 30 days for those pearls of wisdom.  Hey, I’m quicker than that Rowling chick, albeit less entertaining.

I’ve actually had quite a bit more than just chicken wings on my plate lately.  I’ve worked more than I am supposed to the last couple of weeks.  What days off I had weren’t consecutive and were generally busy with pertinent stuff like concerts and Roller Derby (which rocks).  And my mother has had some health issues that just won’t go away.

I am trying hard to keep this thing at least limping along.  I’ve got a few “All-Time . . . ” type things lined up.  Those aren’t genre breaking things but at least they are posts.  They are easy to come up with and hopefully will induce some debate from the 2.37 average of an audience that I have.  Some of those will come in the next week. I worked on a few at work instead of actually doing work, at work.  I am usually too full of pain and in a pharmaceutical haze in the morning for after work witticism but I promise to get a couple of them up by the middle of the week.  And all of you know that I rarely break my promises. . . .

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. . . . I bought gas today. What kind of Bolshevik, Sandinista, Jihad type thinking was that? Well, obviously, I must not love my country. How dare I line the bloated pockets of the true Axis Of Evil. Thanks to my unpatriotic duties, Tiger Marts, Kum & Go’s, and 7/11’s across the nation get to continue their quest to undermine the very principles that America was founded on. Even more harrowing than those selfish bastards is the little known Auxiliary Of Evil. This sinister organization of Mom and Pop gas stations and small groceries prey upon the weak and ignorant of small town America.

Go ahead, you valiant warriors for freedom, refrain from your one day of petrol purchases, bring the mighty gasoline giants to their knees. Ring that liberty bell and nail the doors of Ma and Pa’s only-store-for-hundreds-of-miles shut for good. After all, I am sure the full tanks that you bought on May 14 and 16 won’t boost ExxonMobileBritishPetroleumCitgo’s profit margins one bit.

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Please, this. . . cannot. . . be. . . true.  The good times.  The fun with friends.  The Purple.  Just.  Can’t.  Be.  Over.  Life is no longer worth living.

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