Saturday, June 24, 2006
Morons
Now that I’ve been blogging for close to a year, I know that I hate blogs. All blogs are blogged by egomaniacal pricks. From now on, this is NOT a blog. This WAS never a blog. This will never BE a blog. What the hell?! Everybody wants to “document” something or the other about their miserable little lives… it’s so fucking annoying. Stop wasting web space and my time! Visit any given blog on any given day and you’ll be bombarded by a barrage of links to other shitheads who blog and link too. Or if not links to other blogs it’ll be links to web articles from where the blogger has pilfered his/her/its information/shit. If only stupid bloggers (is there any other kind?) would stop “documenting” their shitty ideas and lives, people like me wouldn’t have to tell them to shut the hell up! Today I happened across a blog all about Google. Of course, the world never knows enough about “Google”, so now we all have to depend on this dipshit to drop us the hottest scoops about “Google”.Gimme a break. Get a life.
Another thing… what’s with the grammar? Don’t they fucking teach grammar in primary school?? The worst thing about stumbling into a blog like you stumble into dog crap is not just that it’s a blog and I hate blogs, but people spell like shit. Take the easiest thing: you are. Is that too difficult to type? Okay, we’ll try you’re. Nope, not yet good enough, lets just go with your. That just saved you two characters and is perfect spelling: Great job Dumbass! Only if you completely ignore the existence of something called a possessive pronoun!! I wish blogs were people so I could now smack the look of incredulity right off their stupid faces!
And what is with these allergies? Seems like every kid is born and labeled with some sort of disorder before being released to its parents. Nut allergy? Lactose intolerance?! The only allergy I know is an allergy to bullshit and the only intolerance I know is intolerance towards egotistical pricks who write crap on shitty blogs. NUT allergy??? Dyslexia, ADD, what else are they going to introduce? Damn, at this rate we may as well put up a giant neon sign that says “Invaders welcome, this planet occupied by distracted, illiterate, intolerant weaklings.” Hypochondriacs, YOU can kiss my ass.
Enough of this bullshit. Having to deal with bullshit is making me feel like punching someone in the crotch.
If you ultimately realize that I’ve been talking about you all along and you’re thinking of a riposte, knock yourself out, Dummy. But before you waste any of those precious brain cells, get this: Nothing I’ve said here doesn’t make a whole lotta sense. So time to suck it and acknowledge what’s now become a lifestyle choice for you. Losing.
Songs for the week? It’s the same week, Jackass! See yesterday’s post.
0 Comments:
Don't just stand there with your mouth open... say SOMETHING dammit!
Friday, June 23, 2006
Fuck Football, Screw Soccer
I’m in love with this beautiful game!!! Don’t be daft, of course I’m not! Piss off yer fucking wankers!!Well it’s the season apparently, so as you can see, I’ve made honourable mention of the flavour of the month, right in my title. Ok, so it not all that honourable, but at least it’s a mention… I’ve even been considerate in case you happen to be across the Atlantic: Soccer!
You know what they should televise? Wrestling for the elderly. That would make for good TV! Just because they aren’t as young as you or I, doesn’t mean that they can’t be part of one of the finer viewing experiences available on broadcast television. Really! Check it out.
Llllets get ready to grrrumbuhhhlllll!! ‘Evening Ladies and Gents, this is Bucky Tooth and welcome to The Sunset Old Folks’ Home. We’ve got one helluva slobberknocker lined up for ya! Oops, can we cut that bit out? I don’t want Jim Ross climbing up my ass for lifting his lines! Our main event, in fact our only even tonight is the deathmatch between Old McJoe and Viagraman. Tensions are raised and it’s reported to be the culmination of a longstanding feud between these two that began yesterday afternoon. Apparently McJoe cut in front of Viagraman in the jelly line. And when Viagraman finally reached the head, they had no more grape. Now everybody knows Viagraman loves grape! To add insult to injury, Old McJoe was later seen sharing his jelly with Viagraman’s nurse. Viagraman has since sworn revenge and it’s been an intense day of staredowns and fist clenching, all building up to this very moment!
It looks like we’re ready to go, but before we start, let’s get some background info on our superstars. Old McJoe is 67, and has a history of neckbreaking. That would probably explain why he always wears a brace. Some of the ladies around here seemed to think it was a sports accessory. To me, that looks like a weakness that Viagraman won’t hesitate to exploit. McJoe grew up in the mean streets and his affection for tattoos is well displayed all over his chest. Can you believe he draws those back on everyday after his bath?! Very impressive, considering the weak neck and the fact that he’s looking at it upside down all the while… McJoe will be cheered on by his folks at ringside. There go his three grandchildren, kicking in the snack machine. Viagraman is not so lucky, he has seven of them. Even at 69, he’s well known for his dirty tricks, often stooping below the belt. His nurse can confirm that well; she follows him with a bedpan for two hours after meals. This guy spent 11 years in the army, so he’s pretty tough, you can be sure of that! All those years of cooking military meals really toughens a man. You can see it in his face. McJoe must look like nothing more than a potato to him. An inky potato in a neck brace.
The gents climb into the ring, assisted by their nurses. Damn, Viagraman’s corner is smoking from that hot piece of ass! I can see why he’d want to be a Viagra-man!! The referee checks them out for foreign objects and they move to the centre of the ring for a customary shake of hands. Why am I cursed with crappy fucking keyboards?!! This is a beautiful aspect of the violent sport, the competitors taking time out to show respect for their opponent even though they’re gonna be pounding on each other a minute later. Whoah and look at that, McJoe really isn’t wasting any time, he’s got Viagraman in a wrist lock already! So much for respect, ladies and gentlemen! The bell rings and Viagraman is responding to the pressure being applied by Old McJoe as we see McJoe beginning to grimace as well. The referee has been reduced to a spectator here because this is a perfectly legal move; all he can do is watch as these… hardened veterans squeeze the life out of each other…’s hands. Looks like we’re gonna need the medics down here after this one!
It’s been a minute of wrinkly hand wringing now and the sweat is beginning to pour off these guys. There goes the referee to get a chilled beverage. Nothing left for him to do here. And speaking of pouring, McJoe is beginning to drip more ink than sweat! That tattoo is almost gone; all that’s left of the detailed crocodile are his nostrils. And will you take a look at those nurses! The bouncing bazoombas!! Forget the oldies, I want some of that action! They’re cheering for their wards from the ringside, as they put their bodies on the line to sort out their differences. Some may talk about the “exuberance of youth” but I’ll tell you, there’s nothing un-exuberant about these sixty-somethings… and with that both the contestants drop to the mat: it looks like McJoe is having a stroke and the old bastard has fallen over Viagraman! Viagraman is trying to get up but McJoe is dead weight. The referee is back in action finally and I don’t believe this, he’s started a count! Viagraman is desperately trying to get to his feet but the quivering McJoe is keeping him down. We’re up to five now and the nurses are looking awful anxious there. Come here nursie baby, Papa’s got a brand new bag… Seven, the medics are rushing down to the ring but they can’t get in till the count is up. Nine, Viagraman is actually trying to hoist the inky pensioner into a fireman’s lift but he’s too heavy for a potato peeler. TEN and we’re done! The bell rings, it’s all over, no one wins! The feud is still alive and well but I can’t say the same of the feuders. The medical personnel lug the sexagenarians out of the ring while the nurses flutter around them. Oh there’re gonna be some sore backs tonight. And I’m not talking about the old dudes!
Well, this has been a matchup for the ages Ladies and Gentlemen, the hottest face-off at The Sunset since Granny Gumboots took on Big Mama Cash in the battle for underwear priviledges. Brrr… if you don’t know how that one turned out, the less said the better! So as we leave The Sunset with fond memories of the evening and the solid effort put in by our competitors let’s not forget that we’ll be back next week for the Chairs, Walkers and Canes match and you surely don’t wanna miss that! Signing out for now, this is Bucky Tooth, off to watch them defibrillating my father beside the ring.
Motorhead – Line In The Sand
Motorhead – The Game: This is the first time any track has made it onto my chart for a second week… so, it’s a first second! Mr. Kilmister, you’re a lucky dude. But I’ve been listening to these two before leaving for work everyday and now even at work! So they gotta be up here.
The Rasmus – Guilty
The Sex Pistols – Johnny B. Goode/Roadrunner : Very few proper lyrics, Johnny at his Rotten best!
0 Comments:
Don't just stand there with your mouth open... say SOMETHING dammit!
