Sunday, February 27, 2005

My Bad Weekend.

What a goddamned shitty-assed weekend I just had. Right up there with the worst of all time. I fucking hate my job but I actually regret taking a day off (Friday)! No more, I tell you. This weekend made me actually appreciate my job! Halla-fucking-luja!!! I am asking my simpleton boss tomorrow if I can work 7 days a week so I can avoid going home. He might agree except I doubt he can count all the way to 7! Shit.

So, seeing that I'm in such a foul mood, I will go on about politics! Lucky you guys. Hey, I'm sorry. I just can't bring myself to do the usual liberal bashing that's so fucking in vogue these days. Ted Kennedy, Bill Clinton both suck blah, blah, blah, not to mention that c**t Hillary. And those damned environmentalist hippy mother fuckers! When will they put down their pot pipes and realize that this world isn't important. It's heaven that's important. Don't you shitheads read your bible?

I know that it would be more popular and fun if I went on about some stupid environmentalist or brought up some anecdote about how idiotic liberals were. But that would be too easy. Plus, the government is doing a good enough job of bashing any opposing view point as it is.

Wait! Case in point - I was listening to right wing talk radio (as if there is any other kind) the other day and the host (I think it was Jay Sevrens) actually breathlessly stated "no one hates the government more than I do." Huh? Then why the fuck do you parrot the government's line all the time? What about you, Sean Hannity? Or you, you wife swapping, drug addled prick, Rush Limbaugh? You guys are the propaganda wing of the government! Actually, I think they know that (and perhaps get paid by the government for it). It's their listeners that don't. Their listeners are so fucking dumb that they actually believe the caricatures of "liberals" that their heroes paint for them and are, for example, really afraid that gays will destroy marriage by wanting to be married. Too bad it's not cool to disagree these days. Unless you are brave. And not afraid to be ridiculed. Don't know anyone like that, do you?

They hate individual rights. They hate privacy. They are a libertarian's greatest nightmare! And one of my biggest beefs with this whole Republican mind set is it's anti-intelectualism. Hell, you think for yourself, you must be a commie/terrorist. Just believe. Faith. So here we go-

There is rampant anti-intellectuality in this country. I was just reading an online article about how literally hundreds of school districts are under siege by creationists who are trying to get their religious views into school curriculums. The Taliban would be proud. If you listen to talk radio for any length of time, you will come away with the feeling that the "pointy headed intellectuals" are somehow destroying our moral values. No wonder America is so far behind the rest of the world as far as education goes.

You wanna know why the government and it's propaganda machine (Rush, Sean, Bill, Fox etc.) wants you to despise knowledge and intellect? Because the more informed you are the less likely you are to fall for the government's bullshit. Josef Stalin all over.

My father was a fanatic as far as education and learning goes. He thought that knowledge was power. And He was right. Knowledge is power. And the government wants all the power to itself. The neo-conservative philosophy is about big, intrusive government that, if it has it's way, will control every aspect of your life.

Don't fall for the populist propaganda that uses a caricature of it's own invention called a "liberal." Hell, I would hate liberals too if I believed what they said about them. Just don't go mentioning the fact that Jesus was a liberal. Smoke will come out of their ears. Too bad it's true.

Well, I thought I would feel better after getting this off my chest. But I don't. To be honest, I wish I could be a simpleton and believe. To damned bad I was born with a brain and a healthy distrust of the government. My bad.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

I Clutch Thy Heart At Last!

I was in the kitchen today doing my normal morning stretching/yawning/ball-scratching routine when I happened to look out the window onto the breeze way. And who should be out there staring back at me with beady little eyes and twitching tail? The fat squirrel. Now I've mentioned this insolent, flea-infested critter before. He's the one who looks like he swallowed a soccer ball. He's huge. I mean, if he jumped up in the air he might stick.

Well, the chubby little fucker was sitting on the tupperware container that we keep the birdseed in. It's the size of a coffee can. You could barely see it through all the fur and blubber perched on top of it. That round rapscallion of a rodent had chewed through the lid and was busy eating the seed. When he saw me, he didn't seem the least bit concerned so I rapped on the window and yelled. He paused for a second and then went back to stealing the birds' food. That mother fucker! I started pounding and screaming. He finally gave kind of a half shrug and lumbered off. I think he actually may have given me the finger, I'm not sure. Little prick!

Must deal with this. That blubbery nuisance will be exterminated forthwith and with extreme prejudice. All other projects or concerns in my life will be put on hold until that mangy menace is taking a sound dirt nap. He is my Mobey Dick. I'm his Captain Ahab. I must get The Cod God to be my Queequeg. But instead of a harpoon, he will have his pellet gun. And I will succeed in offing the creature unlike Captain Ahab!

Now, three to three, ye stand. Commend the murderous chalices! Bestow them, ye who are now made parties to this indissoluble league.... Drink, ye harpooneers! drink and swear, ye men that man the deathful whaleboat's bow -- Death to Moby Dick! God hunt us all, if we do not hunt Moby Dick to his death!

I will need more members of my crew to man my house which will be temporarily named The Pequad. Maybe B-Face could be Ishmael and record the event. I will also need provisions for the journey. Rum and lots of it. And more Rum. And one silver pellet for The Cod God's gun. And Rum. Are Ye up for it?

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Hilarity Below The Belt

With nothing better to do last Sunday night, my roomates and I watched "America's Funniest Videos" on TV. That show should be re-entitled "A Bunch Of Videos Of Guys Getting Wailed In The Nuts." I mean, there must of been about a dozen videos sent in of guys getting nailed in the package with balls, bats, door knobs, broomsticks, remote controlled airplanes, fruits, etc. It's always outrageously amusing when some poor bastard gets pegged in the jimmies. Odd thing though, I have never laughed when it's happened to me. Probably due to the pain, I would guess. After seeing that show, I will make it a point to protect my junk with my hands whenever there is a video camera in the room.

The funniest scenario ever of force-meets-squishy-bits actually happened to me many years ago. It's absolutely true. I was trap shooting with my nephews David and Billy. I had the shotgun and David was off to my right by about 15 yards with the hand thrower. I yelled "pull!" and somehow he managed to nail me below the belt with the clay pigeon. I doubled over and fell to my right and, for an instant, the muzzle of the double barrel waved passed David. But I was too busy cupping my wounded manhood to accidentally pull the trigger. I just wish there had been a camera around to record it.

I think what I will do is get my video camera and an accomplice (busy, Cod God?) and stage a series of ball bashings and send them into AFV and maybe win the $10,000 prize. I will fashion a cup out of some durable material and wear it so I won't really be hurt. But I will summon up my best thespian skills and when ever I am assaulted in the nethers, I will yelp like a goosed yak and double over in mock, yet hilarious agony. It'll be great.

Let's see. Gotta come up with some novel testicular tortures. Maybe one could have me standing at the end of a jump ramp used by some kids and their remote control 4X4. I will be yelling something like "get in here you little bastards, it's almost di..." and before I can finish the word "dinner", the RC 4X4 will zoom up the ramp into my awaiting groin. It's somehow always funnier when it's kids who are the nut busting perpetrators.

Another one could be me passed out on the floor after a night of heavy drinking. Maybe even in a puddle of vomit. And the damned kids set up a bunch of toy bowling pins in front of me and roll the bowling ball. It misses the pins guessed it.

Maybe you guys can come up with some ideas. I will split the $10,000 with you.

Monday, February 21, 2005

My Brain Hurts

I just read that if a prize fighter had a brain bleed like Tedy Bruschi just did, he would be banned from the "sport" of fighting for life. And I'm sure that playing football is almost as jarring to the brain. Bad news indeed. Perhaps we should all get together, put on a benefit and get another "d" for his first name. If not, he might end up like Jimy Williams.

Dark, Venal, and Incurably Violent

Wow, am I in a bad mood. Shit. I just want to smash things and pick fights. Good thing I'm not able to drive (due to intoxication) otherwise I would go downtown and fuck shit up. Hell, it's too late to anyway. My system is still so fucked up from working third shaft last week. I hate my fucking job. I hate my fucking life. Maybe I should off myself like Hunter S. Thompson just did. Unlike his life, though, hardly anyone would notice let alone give a shit if I violently disconnected my brain. Of course I would never do that. Too messy and guns have a bad enough rep around these here parts as it is (damnedable liberals).

I have yet to read any of Hunter S. Thompson's books. And I don't think I ever will. I would, on occasion, read his ESPN Page 2 column. He went on about football and gambling too much for my tastes. But he did have two movies made about his life. I saw them both. Very forgettable. The only thing about Thompson that I admired was the fact that he made president Nixon nervous. This from one of the online obits: "Thompson was a counterculture icon at the height of the Watergate era, and Richard Nixon once said he represented 'that dark, venal, and incurably violent side of the American character.'" I like that. I'm probably more like Thompson than I thought. Yes, think about it. Minus the drugs and writing talent, we are pretty much two peas in a rotting pod.

My brother committed suicide. Still not sure why. It's kind of hard to image it. I just had a friend die after a valiant fight with cancer. Her husband and kids put on a celebration of her life at the local UU church and hundreds of people attended. I couldn't make it because I was busy taking care of my immature roommate Buzz. The point is, wouldn't it be nice to be able to transfer some of that hanging-on-by-the-fingernails-love-of-life to the pathetic shit heads who throw it away so casually?

Man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so serious on you all of a sudden. It's just that I'm really in a foul mood. And there isn't anyone near by to lash out at. Maybe I will just smash one of my guitars. I Don't use them much anymore anyway.

I was actually going to bid farewell to my blog tonight since it is so fucking pointless and no one reads it. But I will give it one more week. Who knows, maybe I will come up with something witty or profound and be hailed as the next Hunter S. Thompson. I'm as well armed. And almost as bald. Too bad I suck. Man, I hate this fucking world.

Saturday, February 19, 2005

Good Fucking Morning

Here it is 6:00 in the goddamned AM and I'm still at work. Normally, I would be up at this hour since it's the weekend but I would be drinking not working. 3rd shift blows dog. When I get home I will have a couple shots of JD and head to bed. I probably won't get up till 2 or 3 in the afternoon. Then I will have a couple shots of JD and greet the day.

I really wish I didn't have to work. Not a rare sentiment, I know. But I shouldn't have to work. I'm a musician and a writer (of artistic blogs). The gummint should support me like gummints do artists in Europe. 500 bucks a week for what I contribute to society isn't to much to ask for, huh? And perhaps 50% of my drinking should be subsidized as well since it contributes to my art. I know it's a lot but they subsidize huge farms out in the mid-west, don't they?

Maybe you fuckers could do 'ole Wheel Gun Bob a favor. Write your congressmen and senators and demand they support me! Please.

Next subject - The Cod God claims he will write a guest blog for me. Now that would be good. I've got some important drinkin' to get done this weekend and could use the help. Check out his latest blog. It mentions how well armed our family is. He is correct. If the forces of evil should ever try to take over this country we will be ready. You will be fucked up! And when my pal Jon gets back from Iraq, we will have some .50 cal action coming your way.

Final subject - Daytona 500 this weekend. My boy Dale Jarrett's on the pole and you know how painful that can be!

That's it. Must get back to fucking work. Two more hours to go...

Friday, February 18, 2005

The New Cleavage, Etc.

OK you spineless blog-adverse pussies. None of you has stepped it up to assist me in my hour of need. Thank god I don't need CPR or a donated kidney. Just a lousy guest written blog. You'd think I was asking to for help painting the house or moving the refrigerator. Jesus, what a pathetic lot you guys are. I suppose I should expect no less from anyone who frequents this page. Of course I'm assuming anyone still visits this blog. Oh well, I guess I will have to take a few minutes out of my hectic schedule to entertain/enlighten you assholes. So here I go-


I can just hear you thinking "great, here he goes again." If you are sick of my political tirades, feel free to skip to the next section or just head on over to your favorite porn site. That's what you were planning on doing anyway, right?

Two amazing I-told-you-so's: The head of the CIA (a Bush appointee) has mentioned that the war in Iraq has made the world less safe from terrorists, and Alan "Yoda" Greenspan says there is no social security crisis. H-m-m. Anyone out there paying attention? Oh, that's right. I almost forgot. More people have died in Teddy Kennedy's car than have lost their social security in Iraq. Damned America hating liberals!


Pitchers and catchers are reporting to spring training. 'Nuff said.


Why do girls these days wear pants that come only half way up their ass? The effect is to square off their hips thus making them look more like boys. Is butt crack really the new cleavage? No doubt this fashion is designed by gay guys.


Who gives a rat's reproductive organs about the Oscars?


Global warming is real. No shit! Oops, there I go again! Global warming isn't real. Almost made you think I was a tree hugging, spotted owl kissing, snail darter felating America hating godless homo hippie fag, didn't I? Perish the thought. I hate the fucking environment as much as anyone.


The economy ain't great. Deficits are at an all time high. More jobs than ever are going over seas. Too bad we don't have a Republican president to fix all that. Fucking Clinton.


The right wing Christian Taliban are still trying their damnedest to get creationism taught in schools. The latest stealth tactic is calling it "intelligent design." Just wait till the first teacher interprets "intelligent design" as aliens seeding the earth. Wow! Can't wait. No wonder we are so far behind the rest of the world in science education. Maybe they should teach evolution in church.


It's been proven that 5-10 shoots of hard liquor a day is good for you. Honest.

Well there you have it. A typical Bush bashing, football-is-gay blog by your hero, Wheel Gun Bob. Please help me put an end to all this madness. I'm still busy as shit and need guest blogs! Come on, be brave...

Wednesday, February 16, 2005


Man, the misery just keeps getting heaped upon my narrow shoulders. I'm working third shift this week. It's completely thrown off my sleep/wake/drinking routines. On top of that, my roommate Buzz is sick as a dog and since he doesn't have a car or a job, I have to take care of him. Frankly, I think it's more of a case of the brew flu with him. Or more accurately the JD flu since he keeps stealing my Jack Daniels. He's always staggering around and falling on his ass.

So I need help. I am asking for guest blogs. Please send them to: The author of each blog I post will get his/her name put in a raffle. The drawing winner will get a date with Jose Conseco. Second place will be two dates with Jose Conseco.

God Bless,


Friday, February 11, 2005

The Hunch Front Of Vulcan

I just read that they are going to cancel Star Trek Enterprise, one of the few shows I watch on TV. Although not as pissed as when they canceled Far Scape, I was still pretty disappointed. Enterprise wasn't great but it was good. And of course It featured the obligatory chick with giant tits. Hard to believe aliens would ever look so good or wear such tight clothes as T'pol.

My friends and I used to go UFO watching when we were in high school. We would bring an 8MM movie camera and camp out late at night under some power lines and/or near a power plant - well known haunts for flying saucers. Although we were sure the aliens would be friendly and not mind us filming them, I was prepared in case they weren't. I always had my riot 12 GA loaded with buck shot and my 30-06 loaded with FMJ's close at hand. The 30-06 would take down the saucer if it tried to shoot at us with some sort of death ray and the 12 GA would splatter green blood if it ever came to that. Plus I usually had some home made bombs with us as a back up.

We never did have any confirmed sightings of aliens but we did get in trouble once for hanging around too close to the Schiller plant in Newington. Good thing they didn't see the guns. I think they thought we were Rooskies trying to spy on American infrastructure or something. They didn't believe our real reason for being there, the search for extraterrestrials, and told us to get the fuck out before they had us arrested. We all had a good chuckle as we headed over to the Newington Pizza Hut.

In case you don't know it, New Hampshire is a hot bed of UFO activity. We had "Incident At Exeter" (actually took place in Kensington) and the even more famous Betty and Barney Hill abductions. There have been numerous movies, books and documentaries made about both encounters. My favorite was the TV movie starring James Earl "Darth" Jones as Barney Hill.

I got to know Betty Hill. She lived in Portsmouth and used to come into the bookstore I was managing at the time. She had a bag lady aura about her and was, to say the least, eccentric. One day she got all excited because we got a UFO picture book in. She proudly showed me the picture she had taken that was in the book. It was shot near one of the spots my buddies and I used to UFO hunt at. I guess she just never bothered to read the caption under the photo. After Betty left, I read it. It totally dissed the picture saying it was just on coming car head lights off in the distance or something. Then it made mention of what a nut she was. Probably true on both accounts. Betty passed away not long ago.

In her honor, I should get my video camera, a fifth of Jagrmeister and, lest we forget, some serious fire power and go UFO watching again. Sounds like a good time - hanging around outside gazing at the mysterious and wondrous night sky, pounding Jagr, waving guns, looking for E.T.s. I just hope that when I do get to see the aliens, they look like the breasty chick from Star Trek. More then likely though, they will look like pink elephants to me and I will end up shooting my fool foot off.

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Lower Level Now Is Playing

Look, I won't try to devote too many of my blogs to work but I need to get some stuff off my chest. I had a horrible night. Not long after I got in to work at 4, I got a call from some fucking condescending prick out in one of our California offices complaining about how his laptop keeps popping up an IE browser with an obscene message. Actually, I don't consider "tHis fUckInG SiTE sUcKz" obscene. Just stupid. But I would like to pound the pimply faced miscreant who wrote it in to an amorphous mass of bloody proto-plasm.

It took me two hours to get all the virii and spyware off this computer and do the sorely needed updates. Obviously the fucking idiot never met an internet download he didn't like. And at the same time I was working on two other computers and taking calls. As well as keeping an eye on our fucking fragile network in case some critical sever crapped the bed. Do you know how confusing it can be working on three computers remotely at the same time? No? Oh, never mind.

So in the middle of all this, an engineer comes into the network operating center (NOC). He is French or something weird like that and he's always bothering me. Plus I think he likes me a little too much. He's one of those guys who always gets too close to your personal space. Maybe he just likes me because I treat him like a human being unlike my fellow IT drones do. Why couldn't he be a good looking chick? Fuck good looking, I don't even care if you're uglier than the back side of Jim Plunkett's balls as long as you have a vagina. I need more estrogen in my life! I miss my old life (working in the world's best bakery, owned and populated by babes).

So I'm frantically trying to get stuff done so I can go work on a "level 2" situation, assigned to me because the guy who originally got the job wanted to go home. Now, let me fill you in (sorry, I'm thinking of vaginas again)- we have levels assigned to problems. Level 4 means it needs to be addressed sometime in the next week. Level 3 means it needs to be done in less than two days. A level 2 has to be fixed in less than 4 hours. Level 1 is "the building's on fire!"

This particular level 2 was an important engineer's computer that had experienced a hard drive failure. I had to get to it soon. And this French guy wants to flirt with me and have me help him move his data from one laptop to another (that's a gimme, huh?). Fortunately a security guard came in and told the French guy to get lost. Just us IT royalty allowed in the NOC, you see.

I didn't get to choke down my pathetic low-cal frozen dinner until 10:30. Then I had other things to do, logs and shit. I was finished with most stuff around 11:30. At 12:00, the third shift guy came in to replace me. He is one of those guys who can never say anything positive, let alone utter a good word about anyone. Everyone's a "fucking asshole" to him. And then he's all pissed off that I didn't get any of the computer builds done. "Didn't you read the fucking e-mail?"

Well, first of all, the guy in charge of all the computer builds hates my guts and refuses to send me any e-mails. No one can figure out why. Usually I have to take it upon myself to rout around and figure out what needs to be done. Secondly, I was too fucking busy to build anything! I was still on the phone with some poor looser from Singapore who's name I could never pronounce in a million years until 12:30.

I just wish my roommate Buzz would replace that bottle of JD he drank.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Worms And Wet Balls

Well, mother fuckers, here I am! Yes sah! Fresh from a grueling day in an IT department during a major virus (worms actually) outbreak. Shit, my fellow workers aren't a really gregarious and fun lot to begin with. But when something bad happens - ooh boy. A fun night.

I got in to work at 4 and went straight to the NOC (network operating center). It's always kept cold there so our servers don't melt. But within five minutes, my balls were sweating rivers. The phones were ringing off the hook, our network monitor was bright red due to the worms pounding the network. People freaking out. No one telling me what's up. I felt like doing what that guy in Slapshot did. Take my clothes off and skate around unconcerned with the madness surrounding me. Of course I'm too damned fat to do that. Plus I don't skate that well.

And then - boom! - at 5:30 everybody leaves. Except me. Holding down the fort. It wasn't until after 9 before I could go to the bathroom and wring my sack out. Keep in mind, everybody - update your Windows constantly! Or go to a Linux operating system. Otherwise the humidity in your genitalia will rise and not in a good way.

The reason I was nudged out of blog retirement was this e-mail from my nephew B-Face responding to an e-mail from The Cod God:

read my blog, I updated it unlike you

Yeah, Bob, update it. Cut and paste this if it helps:

"Bush Bush Bush Bush Bush, and bush bush as well as Bush, plus drinking,and football is gay, football is gay, the Republicans lied (news flash) and Bush. BushBush. Bush."

Hah, hah. I guess that in reality my blogs are about that stupid.

Hey, I gotta go. I've got online lovelies to visit, and a custard chucker to induce to vomit. Thank god my balls are as dry as the Gobi desert.

Friday, February 04, 2005


Sorry I haven't been too prolific in my blogging as of late (like anyone noticed/cares). But I have been very busy. When I get home at around one in the morning from work and I can usually can fit in a blog before I have to visit my online ladies and slap my yogurt slinger around. But this last week I've had to fix fucked-up computers. Typically, they are computers people just drop off for me to repair. I will ask what the problem is and they will spare no detail and say something like "It won't go on even if I plug it in." "oh really." I say, feigning concern. Then, no matter what the problem is, I always ask "when was the last time you updated your anti-virus software?" The answer is usually "summer of '98" or "I don't know if I have anti-virus software, can you check?"

But work is slow so here I am. For better or worse. Probably worse. Anyway, I have a question. I keep hearing things about the "homosexual agenda" mostly from the right wing shit bags I listen to on the radio. Just what the hell is the "homosexual agenda"? Is it to make everyone in the country listen to Maddona and Judy Garland? Or to make us all decorate a little better? Perhaps the homosexuals want to make us all to dress in ass-less chaps or grow Freddy Mercury moustaches. Sounds like it might be a good thing our pin headed president has banning same sex marriage high on his list of priorities.

Speaking of homosexuality, the Super Bowl is this Sunday. I don't know a single Pats fan who is even the least bit worried that the Patriots won't win big. I mean, if somebody even says "it'll be closer than you think but we will still win" they are considered defeatist. I just hope they are right. Of course they are. Hell, the Eagles may as well just turn around, drop trou and grab ankle right after the coin toss. Although I plan on being so shit faced by then that I won't even remember the pre-game show. Hey - maybe I will go out and trawl the bars for football widows instead of watching the Super Bowl. I've held anti-Super Bowl parties in the past and I would get more beaver than a trading post. That's my agenda.

Well that's enough crap from me. 27-10 Pats.

P.S. Sister Wheel Gun, a.k.a Mama Cod God, wanted me to post a picture of a recent computer I was asked to "fix." Here it is in the exact condition I received it in (note missing side panel and missing CPU fan, not to mention unknown shit spilled inside - the picture hardly does it justice):

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Weather Predicting Rodentia

Today is Ground Hog's Day! Whoop-dee-fucking-doo! What it means is that if this stupid ground hog in Pennsylvania sees it's shadow we are in for 6 more weeks of hideous winter. It's a pretty silly ritual really. Some dope in a top hat takes out this fat, furry, sleepy rodent named "Punxsutawney Phil" and shows him to a crowd of reporters. They could have at least alliterated his name so he could be "Punxsutawney Pete" or "Punxsutawney Pecker Head."

I have thought of a few other ways to make this dumb ceremony more fun:

Have about 12 clowns come piling out of Phil's little den before he does.

Dress Phil up in a funny costume. Like as a gay guy for example. Can you imagine how funny it would be to see this furry rodent in miniature ass-less chaps and a leather cap? Or he could come out dressed as a pimp and have a couple female ground hogs dressed as hookers with him.

Toss a stun grenade into his den and then after it goes of, pull Phil out all shaking and bleeding from his ears.

Get Pedro's midget to stand in for the rodent.

Get a big vicious dog to rip Phil out of the guy's arms just after extrication and run off with him. This would be doubly hilarious if Phil was Pedro's midget.

Have the guy in the hat lateral Phil to Terrell Owens. Then watch as the Patriots defense snaps Terrell's other ankle.

The obvious one - instead of a doofus in a hat, get a great looking chick to haul Phil out. Preferably a topless chick. Can you see Phil waking up and seeing these two big, scrumptious breasts dangling in front of him after having been asleep for 4 months? Then he muckles on to a nipple and won't let go. The scene would be great. I can almost see the caption on the AP photo - "Great looking beaver with fat ground hog hanging from tit."

Shoot the little fucker out of a cannon.

No matter what happens, I will be keeping an especially close eye on The Cod God today. Knowing him, he might be planning on sneaking down to Punxsutawney, PA. with a bottle of vodka and his trusty pellet gun.

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Goethe and Sophocles

Didn't have an eventful weekend. I spent most of it taking iron supplements and beating off near magnets.

Speaking of which, I want Hillary Swank. She is so damned cute. People keep saying "but she's not that good looking" or "she's too toothy." Well guess what - I don't give a shit what you think. I've never really liked those Barbie doll kind of chicks anyway. In high school, when ever a cheerleader type angled to be my meat sleeve, I would just blow her off, so to speak. Let it be known - I want to sky-write Hillary Swank's name with my jism! I would crawl 5 miles on broken glass just to be able to maturbate in the shadow of a bucket of her neighbor's shit. Perhaps I will pen Hillary a letter asking if she would like to be my cum dumpster. I'm sure you can tell there's still a little romance left in 'ole Wheel Gun.

Sometimes I think I live in an intellectual vacuum. All people seem to care about these days is "reality" TV or whatever fucking sitcom is all the rage. The last sitcom I watched was "All In The Family." So if you want to drop some stupid "Steinfeld" or "Friends" reference on me, your're out of luck. I still like to exercise my mind on occasion.

Case in point: I was pondering Goethe and Sophocles the other morning after an outrageous night of drinking and late night visit to Gilley's. And I had this life altering intellectual/philosophical insight: In effect, a weird little animated diorama of "man's inhumanity to man" was playing out in my very own rectum. I had to take a wicked dump! REALLY. I mean serious dirt kissing fecal urgency. Trouble is when you are in a house with only one shitter and 5 people, you sometimes have to wait your turn. But waiting was out of the question. It was either the bathroom or the bucket on the sub-zero breezway. So I did that buttock clenching tip-toe dance you do when ya gotta go bad. I made it up to the bathroom but a roommate was already on the throne. So what did I do? I stopped pondering Goethe and Sophocles.

My nephew The Cod God has a very amusing blog up about the time he blew himself up as a kid. It's all true. I was there. I was very proud of him. Still am.

Let's all chip in and buy the Philadephia Eagles a shit load of Adolph's Meat Tenderizer so they will at least have a hope of getting the blood stains out of their underwear after the Super Bowl next week.

Thank you for letting me lay all this filth on you guys. You can probably tell I had a bad night at work. My misfortune, your fortune. Or something. Sorry, Mika.