May God Have Mercy On Your Ass!

Hemorrhoids. We all know them. We all love them. How many of you ever had a hemorrhoid? MMMM, Tasty. I got my first one the other day and it looks like my asshole is smoking a cigar. It's just my luck that my induction into the impacted anal gland family is with a three pounder. It actually woke me up this past saturday morning by singing, "Tiny Dancer". I told my mother and of course she had a reaction that would lead most people to believe that I told her I was really a black man in disguise. Then, of course, she had to tell everyone located east of the plains. The people she works with giggle at me now. I see them point at me then pat their ass. So I went to the doctor today, just what I'd hope to do on Christmas eve, and the nurse told me not to feel bad. I thanked her for the support then sent her tumbling down the hallway. The last thing to tell a man before he's about to get a finger in the pooper is not to feel bad. I feel like...well, I feel like my ass is growing a thumb. The doc came in checked it out. I felt bad. I had this image of him vomiting during his christmas dinner thinking about the third leg that I'm growing. But all was well. He actually chuckled a little and said, "Don't forget to feed that thing", before walking out, surely to share a hearty holiday laugh with his staff. I guess everyone's gotta take a shot to the ass every now and then.

Sports Talk With Jit Winkin

Another fine week has past and as I write this the Steelers are ass raping the Ravens which is sure to make perching a hard task. Let's see, I guess the big news would be Torre signing with the Dodgers. Good for him. I hope he has much success over in L.A. He'll have his work cut out for him considering that the Dodgers might be a bigger collection of bitches than Boston Cock Sox. Good Luck, Joe. And don't take no lovin in the ass.
The NBA kicked off it's '07-'08 season in style as usual. The Celtics showed off their new toy in Kevin Garnett, who after his night was finished, thanks to the 306 to 47 lead that they had with 2:00 left, stood by the bench repeatedly calling one of his teamates a motherfucker. Great job, KG. My Knicks unfortunately fell asleep on the floor during the 4th quarter of their first game and allowed Lebron to drop 45 on them. After the game it was reported that King James added insult to injury when he released a live panda in the visitor's dressing room. I hate fuckin' pandas. However, the Knicks won game #2 against the shitty Timberwolves. I think NY has a decent team this year and might actually see the post season.
So the Jets lost again and I discovered that the beams in my house aren't strong enough to support my hanging fat ass. This team is lost. It's obvious that they don't want to play for Mangini and they're just waiting for the next 7 weeks to pass. I watched the bastard Patriots take out Peyton and the Colts. I actually shit a little in my pants when they took the lead with 3:00 to go. What's with all these fucking Boston teams? The Celtics, The Red Anus' and the Patriots. SHIT!!!
In soccer news, and there go my readers, Juventus and Inter went 1-1 in a game that had as much hype in Italy than the Patriots-Colts did over hear. It was 90 minutes of really good soccer followed by 18 hours of firebombs and riots. My Neopolitan bretheren drew 1-1 with Reggina. What are you gonna do? Portsmouth dispatched Newcastle Utd. 3-1 with the help of a super goal by Pomarot in the 9th minute that made me slap my neighbor.
But the real story was the super-middleweight championship fight between Joe Calzaghe and Mikkel Kessler. What a fight! It went the distrance and they pounded eachother. It was the perfect mix of boxing and all-out brawling. Calzaghe came out on top winning on all three scorecards(117-111, 116-112, 116-112). He really solidified his name in the conversation of "Who is the best pound for pound fighter?" This saturday night Miguel Cotto, who I think has the best shot at dethroning Floyd Mayweather as the pound for pound king, will fight Sugar Shane Mosely. This could be the fight of the year. Cotto hits hard and has some serious skill. Sugar is still pretty fast and he's got a lot of experience. I think we'll see the referree stop the fight in the 7th round when Cotto imposes his will on Mosely. I like Shane but Cotto's a monster.
This edition of Sports Talk With Jit Winkin has been brought to you by Fancy Pants. "They're shiny and red and you look like a dick wearing them"

Sports Talk with Nutty McBalls

It's been a good week if you're a bastard red sox fan. Please accept my dearest congratulations when I say, "Blow me!!!" Your world championship came second best to a rich boy who's seeking more money by opting out of his $25 million a year contract.
Yes indeed. A-ROD opted out of a contract which paid him in Jesus' chest hair to see if someone will give him 50 suitcases full of Kuwaiti Bouillion. I do not buy the bullshit about his discomfort due to the lack of certainty that is the make-up of the New York Yankees. It's all about money. Period. He's the type of guy that will do what is necessary to make sure that he and his children and their children and their children and . . . well you see where I'm going, will always be taken care of. He is the whitest Dominican I have ever come across. Whatever, god bless him.
Pettite, Rivera and Posada are all questionmarks as well. There is no good reason why they should be in a different uniform next year but I've seen some crazy shit in my life. For all I know Jorge Posada could be playing in the "Pock Mark" League based out of SouthTurkmenistan come next year. And my dear friend, Mr Torre, is gone forever. Unfortunately, I can't sympatize with the whole, "I'm insulted by the incentives", bullshit because every contract he's had with the Yankees was full of incentives but I do believe that they should've given him more than one year and without a drop in base pay. Thank god this season is over and I can concentrate on football. Both kinds.
First off, I'm a Jets fan and I've attempted suicide 8 times in the past 3 weeks. Pennington has the arm of a child and Kellen Clemens ain't there yet. On top of that, my boy, Jonathan Vilma, is out for the rest of the year. So until the playoffs, my interest in the NFL is limited. Now to football or soccer as we americans call it. That's right, bitches, I watch soccer and I love it. My beloved Napoli beat the shit out of powerhouse, Juventus, this past saturday and while some of you have lost interest in this blog now, I say, "Eat My Creamy Cadbury."
The score was 3-1 and I shit myself with joy. Forza Napoli!!! Also, Steven Gerrard, midfielder for Liverpool kicked a ball so hard that England now borders Galveston, Texas. Yes, he scored with that fine display of near murder but Arsenal equalized with a Fabregas goal with ten minutes left. WONDERFUL!!!
Now to boxing. I will have my eyes glued to the t.v. this saturday night as Joe Calzaghe, that's right, he's a ginzo just like me, and Mikkel Kessler are gonna punch eachother in the face over and over again to see who will be the one and only super middleweight champ. These are two guys who love to throw hands so if you're interested you can join me as I fire up some cognac and enjoy this championship bout on H.B.O. This edition of Sports talk with Nutty McBalls has been brought to you by "BOO-COCKY". "Have a nasty Halloween."

Sports Talk with Nutty McBalls

It's been a good week if you're a bastard red sox fan. Please accept my dearest congratulations when I say, "Blow me!!!" Your world championship came second best to a rich boy who's seeking more money by opting out of his $25 million a year contract.
Yes indeed. A-ROD opted out of a contract which paid him in Jesus' chest hair to see if someone will give him 50 suitcases full of Kuwaiti Bouillion. I do not buy the bullshit about his discomfort due to the lack of certainty that is the make-up of the New York Yankees. It's all about money. Period. He's the type of guy that will do what is necessary to make sure that he and his children and their children and their children and . . . well you see where I'm going, will always be taken care of. He is the whitest Dominican I have ever come across. Whatever, god bless him.
Pettite, Rivera and Posada are all questionmarks as well. There is no good reason why they should be in a different uniform next year but I've seen some crazy shit in my life. For all I know Jorge Posada could be playing in the "Pock Mark" League based out of SouthTurkmenistan come next year. And my dear friend, Mr Torre, is gone forever. Unfortunately, I can't sympatize with the whole, "I'm insulted by the incentives", bullshit because every contract he's had with the Yankees was full of incentives but I do believe that they should've given him more than one year and without a drop in base pay. Thank god this season is over and I can concentrate on football. Both kinds.
First off, I'm a Jets fan and I've attempted suicide 8 times in the past 3 weeks. Pennington has the arm of a child and Kellen Clemens ain't there yet. On top of that, my boy, Jonathan Vilma, is out for the rest of the year. So until the playoffs, my interest in the NFL is limited. Now to football or soccer as we americans call it. That's right, bitches, I watch soccer and I love it. My beloved Napoli beat the shit out of powerhouse, Juventus, this past saturday and while some of you have lost interest in this blog now, I say, "Eat My Creamy Cadbury."
The score was 3-1 and I shit myself with joy. Forza Napoli!!! Also, Steven Gerrard, midfielder for Liverpool kicked a ball so hard that England now borders Galveston, Texas. Yes, he scored with that fine display of near murder but Arsenal equalized with a Fabregas goal with ten minutes left. WONDERFUL!!!
Now to boxing. I will have my eyes glued to the t.v. this saturday night as Joe Calzaghe, that's right, he's a ginzo just like me, and Mikkel Kessler are gonna punch eachother in the face over and over again to see who will be the one and only super middleweight champ. These are two guys who love to throw hands so if you're interested you can join me as I fire up some cognac and enjoy this championship bout on H.B.O. This edition of Sports talk with Nutty McBalls has been brought to you by "BOO-COCKY". "Have a nasty Halloween."

Let's Play Some Fuckin' Ball!

Ok, so my beloved Yankees got their asses handed to them yet again in the first round of the playoffs. It's gonna be an interesting off-season to say the least. Joe Torre, most likely, won't be back and this could cause a mass exodus of players. Jorge Posada, Bobby Abreu (Fozzy Bear), A-Rod and Mariano could be wearing different uniforms next year and it could all come down to if Papa Joe stays or not. I don't expect him to be here. Jorge's gonna test the market and they better treat the situation w/ Mariano gently. That leaves Abreu. First off, I'd like to bring the size of his glove to your attention. You could catch a melon in that thing. Second, he's not a #3 hitter. Plain and simple. I'd like to see him stay but he's better suited to be your 6th or 7th guy on the lineup. Who should be #3 then? Robinson Cano. .300 hitter, career high in homers and RBI's this season and he'll only get better.
Who else should get the fuck out of my city? Let's see . . . Giambi. Gone. Trade his ass. He wants to go to either Oakland or Anaheim? Good. Their pitching is better than ours. Get a decent reliever for him. Keep Matsui as the DH. Mussina? Gone! Double Gone!!! If you need an explaination then you can leave to. Farnsworth? Trade his ass. He still throws 96mph, believe me, somebody will want him. As a matter of fact, you could package up Giambi and Farnsworth for say a third baseman or a really good reliever. Would Eric Chavez play in New York? How about Scott Shields? Hmmm, interesting. I say 3rd baseman because A-Rod won't be here. I'm sorry but the Yankees are gonna lose 21 million just by him opting out of his contract. I think he'll be in San Fran next year.
The pitching rotation should be this: Wang, Pettite, Kennedy, Hughes and Chamberlain.
#1. Wang better get his head out of his ass and start sinking those sinker balls.
#2. Pettite might not even stay if Joe goes. He could retire and has actually said it.
#3. Kennedy, Hughes and Joba are young with a lot of upside. can't wait to see them be one of the nastiest 1-2-3 punches in MLB history.
In a nutshell, I think they gotta go after some serious relievers. Giambi, Farnsworth and Mussina should be gone. Bring in some heat from other cities. Keep Mo and Posada. If Abreu leaves it's ok. A-Rod is gone as far as I'm concerned and you can get whoever the hell you want with the money that would be free to play with. I think we all know that Papa Joe's gone. I'll miss him, you'll miss him. I love that guy like my own father for christ's sake. So I will leave you with two words: JOE GIRARDI.

Should I Move?

We all know what the word is on our leadership around here and I love talking shit about them. Nothing pleases me more than to talk a Bush lover into submission. However, I have been told many times that, "This is America. Love it or leave it." This always stalls my verbal bombardment. Should I leave? Really. Should I pack my shit and head elswhere. I suppose I could go Canadian and just look down every now and then with a hearty laugh thanks to the FREE HEALTH CARE I'd be getting.
After I'm told to leave by these submissive, red-neck, red state, authority loving mofo's, I always go into deep thought. Should I leave? I complain about this country enough. It's war, it's cover ups, it's non-seperation of church and state. I think long and hard about this issue. I always come to the same conclusion.
NO!!! My fat ass is staying where it is. I'm staying and there's nothing you bitches can do about it. I'm gonna stick around and see if I can help this place get back to the ways that made it great. Think about it. We're all here because this is where you go to make your dreams come true. If, back in the day, the American slogan was, " America . . . Fuck Yo Mama!" all our ancestors would've stayed home.
Unfortunately we get to deal with this regime that apparently wants this country to head into a fascist state. So there. it's settled. I'll stay and fight the good fight. Who's with me? Oh . . . wait a minute . . . there's a group of really white guys in JC Penney suits outside my window. I gotta go.

Heaven Holds the Faithful Departed

People come and go. Am I right? Your friends, family members, the people you work with, the mail man . . . It's a revolving door. Sometimes it hurts. I just lost someone who meant a lot. It wasn't a surprise, we all saw it coming. But it still stung a a little when I got the call just before dinner.
She was someone who lit up the room before she even walked in. The type of person who made you a better human being just by standing next to you. Of all the people I know who complain, she was the only one who really deserved to . . . but she never did. So why are we?
I understand the period of grief and the mourning and the asking "WHY?" but realize one thing . . . There is no more suffering. They moved on. As far as I'm concerned it's the next step, not the end. The body that held the person you love is just a small fraction of them. It's just the physical part. What we love about this woman still exists. We just can't experience it the way we did. As humans, we're not wired that way. And it's a shame we can't celebrate someone's life when they've died.

"We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion." - Maynard James Keenan

In Loving Memory of my Godmother MARION PICCOLO

... And More Questions

#14 Q: The security gates go off and the customer who was walking through them at the time comes back to you at the register. What do you do?

A: I'd offer to shake hands and when they took the bait I'd drag them over the counter. Once on my side of the counter it's that much easier to show them my appreciation for timid folk.

#15 Q: You're at the Information desk looking up product that a customer would like specially ordered. You notice that there is a price discrepancy. What do you tell the customer and why is there a discrepancy?

A: I'd notify them that they smell like bear shit and suggest that they step back. Then I'd say, "There isn't really a discrepancy but you can go fuck yourself anyway."

#16 Q: What is the return policy?

A: If you're willing to subject yourself to a full day of tedious, back-breaking yard work at my parent's house then we'll take back the product. If not, then you better make could with the hands.

#17 Q: In what way are specially orderd items different than our regular stock items? What's our return policy regarding these items and how do we ensure that the customers both know and agree with this policy?

A: Specially ordered items are different because they come from the docks. For the return policy, see my asshole for details. We ensure that the customers know and agree with this policy by firing threatening letters through their windows during din-din.

#18 Q: When you're bringing at item to work, something that we normally carry, what is the procedure?

A: The procedure is to midget dance my way from one end of the parking lot to the other.

#19 Q: What do you do with returned product?

A: Me and my dad bang bitches.

#20 Q: Someone comes to you with a return but doesn't have their receipt. What do you ask for and what do you check?

A: I'd ask for their phone number because that's actual procedure then once I have it, I'd call their home to check if anyone was there. If someone answers, I'd mention Pimp Pilgrim and how he can help. If I get the answering machine, I would simply inform them of the fire that is soon to come. During all this the customer will be looking at me with shock, in which case I'd poke them in the eye and when they got back to sorts I would be in black face.

There it is. The questionnaire that led to 8 yeras of me bossing pople around and being responsible for a shit load of money. Well done.

More Questions

For those of you just joining us, and judging by the amount of comments I'll be entertaining myself for a while, please refer to the previous posts so that you aren't lost.

#8 Q: A customer comes to you in one section of the store with product from a different section. What should you ask that customer?

A: I would ask them if they were truly an asshole or if it's just a game that they play. Then I'd swiftly pull a raw hide from my pouch.

#9 Q: You're walking by the front of the store and the security gates go off. What do you do?

A: A vast series of aerobic techinique that will show everyone what I'm capable of.

#10 Q: You see a customer in our Movie section and realize that he has been there for a while. How do you handle this?

A: I'd spread my arms and become an airplane. I would circle the man and notify him that he's standing exactly where I have to land. Then I'd start making a shitty alarm noise and make like there's trouble with the aircraft as I crash into him sending us both to the floor.

#11 Q: It's your scheduled break and you intend on leaving the building. What is the procedure?

A: The procedure is to quickly run to the front doors and tell everyone to go get fucked.

#12 Q: Who belongs in our stockrooms?

A: Mer-man.

#13 Q: You see a customer pocket and item. What should you do?

A: I would manhandle them to no end, forcing them to join myself and Rip Torn at yet another screening for Rip's independant film, "El Curio And The Scratchcock".

The Questionnaire

If you haven't read the blog before this one, "People Never Learn", read it now.

#2 Q: Name some tools that you have at your disposal to meet our customer's needs. Name at least 3.

A: My cock, fingers and hair.

#3 Q: If a specified product isn't in stock, what should you automatically do to help that customer?

A: I would automatically challenge them to a dance-off. Following the boogie-down, I would then lead them to a hidden
corner and begin the execution.

#4 Q: A customer looks on our user friendly in-house computer and finds something to their liking. They then find you and
say that it's in section 3A. What do you do to put the product in the customer's hand?

A: My strength would help because I would pick them up and carry them away. Once we've reached a destination I would
drop them to the floor, say, "You were terrific.", slap my ass, cough and calmly walk away.

#5 Q: What are the services we can extend to the customers at the cash register?

A: Services such as forcing them to watch my A-hole open up as I blast a steamer or a vicious bird call go a long way.

#6 Q: The customer at your register says, "I didn't find what I was looking for.", What do you say to her?

A: I would just stand there holding my breath till I could hold it no more then exhale violently so that spit and bad
breath would cover her face and collar area. I could also reinact the torching of Dimple Hill.

#7 Q: What can you recommend to customers in the cafe?

A: I would recommend that they follow me to the back-stock area. I'd tell them that this is where we keep the freshest food and that they could take whatever they wanted because they're good people and while they were rifling through product I'd attach some sort of winged extension to my arms and flap about their ass and back. Once asked what I was doing, I'd begin weeping and vomiting. That should get them out of my hair for a while.

More to come...

People Never Learn

Way back in the day I worked for a retail store for over 8 years. Apparently I'm one of these people who never learn. For 8 years I spent 40+ hours a week helping people, answering questions (most of them beyond stupid), cleaning up after some of the most disgusting assholes New York has to offer, serving coffee, stealing from the company, banging all the grief stricken women (you'll find tons working in retail) and occasionally setting fire to my ass hair just to prove a point. For almost a decade, I got paid shitty wages and was given way too much to handle. When I was first hired, they spent a week training me. At the end of that week they gave me a "New Employee Questionnaire". I had an hour to fill it out which is way too much time for someone like me to sit at a table thinking about how to answer these schmuck questions. About 20 seconds into it, I decided that I didn't really want to work there and just wrote down a bunch of shit. I handed it in and I worked there for 8 years. I ran two departments and was responsible for about 15 people. Here is the first question and answer to that questionnaire that led to the beginning of a regretful career:
*I have changed the name of the company for I haven't the funds for a lawsuit. Let's call it Brownstar's
Q: What is our main focus as employees of Brownstar's? (Hint: It's the job we all have in common.)

A: Our main focus is customer service. Whether it's hand, mouth or anal service all depends on the customer's needs. For instance, if a leopard gets into the store, a variety of biblical screams may help.

This is the first question of many. I will share this entire questionnaire with you in my upcoming blogs. ENJOY

I'm just an idiot!

I just spent twenty minutes pacing around outside my house, armed with my shitty HP digital camera, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mars. "It'll be so close you can pinch it with your toes", they told me. Yeah, I got a nice view of my empty hopes and a few crackheads running the stop sign. SON OF A BITCH!!! I'm gonna start my own little rumor. Here it is: If you find yourself all alone outside, staring at the sky, a leprachaun will offer you sweets and a reach around. I wish I had a telescope so I could smash the cranium of the jerkoff who told me to stand outside looking like a dick. Shit.

What A Wonderful World!

I'd like to start off by thanking my "Elected" officials for creating an environment that gives me a reason to shit in my pants on a daily basis. Thank you from the bottom of my soiled undies. If you read my earlier blogs (if you didn't then you're a dick) you know that I have children. Never in my life did I think that I would be able to care for something, anything, the way I do my kids. The daddy in me kicked in to full gear quickly. There in lies the problem. My first thought in the morning; The Kids, my last thought at night; The kids. Every once in a while I'll think of deli meats or driving a "Mr. Softee" truck through someone's living room but for the most part, I'm thinking of my own.
So how do you think I feel when our beautiful color-coded emergency system kicks into gear? Orange, red, yellow, fuck you. What have I done? I brought two kids into a world of war and fear. They're gonna grow up with this shit. And how the fuck am I supposed to answer all their questions? They're gonna grow up hearing all this bad shit about the country they live in and they're gonna ask me, "Daddy, why do we live here?" And I'm gonna say, "Go ask your mother. She's really smart. Daddy make poopy." Then I'll spit a little and fake a fainting.
When I was a boy in the 80's (what a hoot that was) I just heard the remains of the cold war. "Those scary soviets could strike at any minute!!! Run, run straight to your church and pray!!!" Because one of the lord's many talents is stealing launch codes, I'm sure. Fortunately for me, Rocky IV came out and I saw, with my own two eyes, Rocky Balboa beat the shit out of Ivan Drago. He was in enemy territory and they couldn't even beat him. Oh yeah, they sent a few retards after him when he went out for a morning jog. That movie single handedly turned the Soviet Union into a shitty joke. We laughed for hours on end, "Ha, ha, ha."
My kids need a movie like that. A nice animated feature that shows their enemies as nothing but a bunch of ugly assholes who use their money and position in life to scare us all into submission. I wonder if the Bush administration would be willing to do the voice overs and the main character can be an oily seagull.
I don't know what to believe anymore. I have no trust in the people who are supposed to be protecting me and my family. I replaced religion with thought when I was a teenager, so sitting alone at the edge of my bed, talking to my ceiling is out. Every plan that my so-called "leaders" come up with is dumber than the next. We can't come up with anything better? Are you fucking kidding me? Here's what I'm gonna do; I'm gonna take care of my own and preserve life as I see fit. My government has failed my children, religion can only do more harm and the education system is just a real peach. Just ask the folks in New Orleans about the help they got. No government, no church and nobody came to their aid, they had eachother and that was it. Let it be a lesson. We've had planes crash into NYC and a hurricane practically wipe away one of the greatest cities on the planet. Take charge, open your eyes and speak up. Maybe, just maybe, by the time my kids are old and dirty they can truly be proud of their world.

HOW CAN I WATCH THIS SHIT? Part III

Along side Maury there is one other show I can't get enough of, World's Wildest Police Chases. Have you seen this shit? HOLY GOD! They show you asshole after asshole drive 100 mph straight into a tree. And the host, John Bunnell, I'd like to nominate him for saint-hood. I love it when he stands there all strong and shit while they act out an arrest behind him during his intro to the next clip. I couldn't do that. You know you're a real hard hitting son-of-a-bitch when you can walk through an arrest in progress and not even stumble with your lines. Well, maybe it's not that hard. If you've seen the show, 95% of the clips are from Macon County, Georgia. I'm serious. That's how I know Macon County is the biggest collection of badasses in the history of the world. Every single video starts out with, "Here in macon County, Georgia". Now that I think of it, his lines are the same for every single clip. It goes like this: " Here in Macon County, Georgia this perpetrator has decided to run from police. What he doesn't know is that this officer is a real great driver." He should change it up a bit, every now and then. Maybe something like this would work: "Here in Macon County, Georgia this drunken mullet on wheels has desided to take his uncledad's pick-up for a ride around the farm but what he doesn't know is . . . I'm banging his wife!" Then they cut to a live feed of John Bunnell doggin' that bitch from the back. Or how about this: "Here in Macon County, Georgia a normal traffic stop has turned into a high speed pursuit. The fact that this criminal has failed to realize is . . . that there's a small, bearded man wearing a pine cone hat in his back seat, waving a bloody hatchet above his head." That would freshen things up a bit. No? Oh, ok.

HOW CAN I WATCH THIS SHIT? Part II

You can tell how much trouble we're in just by watching t.v. for three minutes. Here's an example: I saw a commercial where an attractive woman looks into a mirror, runs her hands through her hair and then makes a face like she just shit a silly straw. Then the voice over says, "What's worse than roots?" What's worse than roots? How about cancer you stupid shit. I don't know, maybe being homeless or getting attacked by Johnnie and his cronies from the Cobra Kai Dojo. There was one other time I saw that commercial but I wasn't really paying attention so when the guy said, "What's worse than roots?", I thought he was talking about the epic mini-series starring Levar Burton. What's worse than roots? Fuck you. Is that how far out of whck our priorities are? You can't ask a question like that nowadays. You got suicide bombers and government cover-ups and that asshole yeti walking around. Fuck your hair. The commercial should've gone like this: The woman looks at her hair, makes an ugly face then the voice over says, "Get over yourself, asshole!". Then I would enter stage right wearing noghing but a sweater vest and neckerchief, crooning like a drunk. Now that would've made a great commercial.

HOW CAN I WATCH THIS SHIT? Part I

No matter how hard I try, I cannot stop watching television. No matter how many times I sit there and say, "What the fuck have we become", I still tune in night after night. It's too powerful. Either that or I'm just a big, stupid dick. I always hear people talk about t.v. as if it were a poison and I completely understand where they're coming from. On many accounts, I actually agree with them but I can't stop watching. There are so many good shows . . . like Maury. You watch Maury, right? That show is the shit. My wife records it on the DVR everyday and they don't just play one episode. No. Fuck that. They play two in a row and then a couple of hours later . . . THEY PLAY TWO MORE! Maury knows we can't get enough of his show. Day after day of paternity tests and crushed hopes, it's great. It doesn't matter where you're from or how you grew up, when you watch Maury you laugh, you cry, you smile when you find that renewed sense of hope and then you ask, "How the fuck are we the species that controls everything?" If you get the chance, watch the Maury show, let all of the information that you've gained sink in and then picture our president sitting on stage between maury and some angry bitch waiting for those child support checks to come rolling in. He fits right in! We're fucked!

LET "EM FALL! Part III

So I restate my plan, let the kid fall down and bust his ass every now and then. How did my son learn not to touch the stove top? Because his index finger almost melted to his thumb. I told him not to but he insisted on learning himself. Hey, wanna know how he learned not to stick his finger in the electrical socket? He sprinted into my bedroom one day showing off a new hairdo that was reminiscent of Einstein after a night of opium induced ass banging. Let them get their asses kicked a little. Obviously step in when the kid decides to set fire to the curtains or starts a "Fight Club" in the bathroom but other than that it's ok to let them pick themselves up when they fall. Let them gain some character while feeding their brains. Let them learn to be, at the very least, somewhat independant. Let them be thankful that mommy and daddy knew when to stop coddling their precious baby and allowed them to figure a few things out themselves. That way they might not be afraid to turn out a little like you. Hell, I hope my son turns out a little like his old man who at the age of twenty-five still lied to his boss when he had to go home and take a shit or "Help The Padre" as I liked to call it.
I believe that our children will thank us for backing off and giving them space. I had quite a few friends when I was younger whose parents were unbelievable. Constantly nagging and following them around and busting their balls to the point where one of closest friends had the theme from "The Omen" play on his cell phone every time his mother called. Take a good look "cuz that'll be you. Don't worry they'll be ok. Just stand back and watch them grow. They might just impress you.
THE END

LET 'EM FALL! Part II

Those rules, those guidelines that I mentioned in part I have evolved from generation to generation and have the potential for disaster. (Take a look around) Go ask any kid who's been pumped with so many narcotics that his eyes can't open all the way if he/she thinks all the emphasis on fitting in is a good thing. Despite my rather unique behavior and refusal to play well with others, I was never given medication or put through some of America's great therapy programs that worked OH so well for some of my friends whose parents lacked the balls to deal with a kid who's a little off the meter. No matter what wierd crap I pulled or how many people I pissed off, my parents never gave in to that American "save the children with sedatives" way of thinking. If I were born just ten years later I'm positive that I would have been given a healthy dose of pure bullshit in pill form so I consider myself lucky.
I can see it on the playgrounds of America. You people have given up on your children. Let me give you a little insight on how people with a little character might handle this situation: Let 'em fall. It's ok to step back and watch that little shit bust his ass every now and then. They learn from such incidents. You did the same thing. You learned by making mistakes. How did you figure out that you have to knock on your parent's bedroom door when you wake up in the middle of the night from a bad dream? I bet that image is scalded in your skull. Take it from me, my first is a real handful. He was one of those kids that had to be in constant physical contact with you. It didn't matter when or where, when he got the urge to fidget he would drive me to merengue and it's quite annoying when a small boy refuses to stop probing your ear lobe until you've lost consciousness and shit on yourself. When I say he brought my wife and I to the brink of insanity, I mean we were capable of setting the house on fire just so he wouldn't have such a cozy place to perfect his craft as a C.I.A interrogator.
Now, back to these rules that are supposed to turn our little crazy ones into controlled big ones. First off, I offer no mercy to those of you who chose abide by these guidelines. I think that those of you who go overboard deserve to be flogged in public. Second, everyone wants a pefect, little, obedient prick following them around, not questioning a thing said to them so you listen to any doctor who says, "Yeah. He's touched all right. Mix some of this in with his food and don't worry if he sleeps til his 30th birthday", as he pushes a bottle of multi colored pills with a picture of a dead fox on the side of it into your hands. Stop this shit. You're doing more harm than good and your kids will hate you for it. There is no good reason why generation after generation of teens and young adults who are starting families of their own should swear to a god that they don't really believe in that they will never, ever, ever turn into their parents. There are only a chosen few who don't contemplate shitting in a pond when thinking about growing into their mommies and daddies and they are either truly lucky or truly fucked.
To be concluded...

LET 'EM FALL! Part I

So I was reading some poetry that I had written and I couldn't help but notice that my poetry sucked anus. When I think poetry, names like Frost and Bukowski come to mind. What I have is a series of grievances that should be filed with the union. Every poem was one long bitchfest. Not that this is a bad thing, at least I'm aware of how shitty things have been since I replaced religion with thoughts of my own in '94. But it did get me asking why I hadn't perched my fat ass on top of a telephone pole somewhere and heaved heated jam baskets at the public. You figure someone with so much to be angry about would have done something to release a little of that aggresion. Well, my parents always told me that people get ass raped in prison so I decided to start playing the drums ... and occasionaly beat the shit out of someone but that's not the point. The point is that I didn't turn into a headline that turned into a movie of the week that turned into a reason to smother your children. Here is my call to action: STOP FUCKING WITH YOUR KIDS!!!
Stop telling me that they're the future and that they're important. I know this. I have children of my own and would do anything for them. What I will not do is climb up their ass and make sure that every single thing in their lives is to my liking or follows a certain standard. I like taking people's standards and shitting on them. I don't follow any rules and I don't expect my kids to either. I can only imagine how many of you are getting flustered and wishing you had my phone # so you can school me on parenting. Calm yourself. I don't mean rules like, "Don't kill the neighbor's cat then shit on their porch while you draw a hop-scotch grid that instead of numbers has all the funny little different ways of saying the word vagina." No. I mean rules like the unwritten ones that have been burned into everyones psyche. The ones that are supposed to make you fit in and be accepted. You can ask many of the fine folks that attended high school with me about how I love conforming to the norm. I almost got kicked out of school because I drew a shitty picture of the vice principal blowing the janitor, made 250 copies then plastered the walls with my master piece. Need I say more?
To be continued...

JUST LOOK AT THE MAP!!!

How is Staten Island not considered to be in New Jersey? HUH!!! It's right there. Take a look. There's less space between S.I. and Jersey than between S.I. and Brooklyn. All you have to do is take a spill off of the jagged rocks of Staten, float face down for four to seven minutes and you wash up on the lovely shores of scenic Perth Amboy. They even look the same. When you're driving across S.I. and cross into Jersey, you can't tell. It's the same land and everything. They smell the same too. You know, that combination of regret and poor judgement. If it looks like Jersey and smells like Jersey and is a whole lot closer to Jersey than New York then it's gotta be Jersy. Right? Of course not. I guess I'm just a big dick. Even the people in Jersey say, "Hey! That's ours!" and then try to throw lassos around it to pull it closer. Here's another point that supports my argument: The Verrazano Bridge. To cross the Goethals Bridge, which connects S.I. to Jersey, its true home, you pay six bucks. To cross the Verazzano, which connects Brooklyn and S.I., you pay nine bucks. NINE DOLLARS TO CROSS A BRIDGE!!! Why not ask for a collection of my pubic hair and three left toes of your choice? Maybe a good 'ol recatl exam and bitch slapping would suffice. How the hell can you justify charging people nine dollars to cross a bridge that keeps you in the same state? For nine dollars I better get some sort of gift when I reach the other side, like the Cup of Christ or a whistle or something.