Monday, October 31, 2005

Happy Halloween Mutha Fuckas!

This is my favorite holiday of the year. I had a great time last night scaring the crap out of little kids coming to my door. I dressed up like a vampire with lots of blood coming out of my mouth and set up a fog machine in the front yard. "Mommy, that man scares me! Wa-a-a-ah!" What a riot! I almost ran out of candy, we had so many trick-or-treaters. It also didn't help that I ate as much as I gave out. Then me and my pal Tom pounded Bud pounders and watched football instead of having band practice. Great night.

I thought of a great costume for next year. I will make a toilet out of wood and cardboard. I will wear it so my upper body comes out of the seat. Then I will fashion a pair of fake legs and ass to sit on the pot with white, studded pants around the ankles. My real legs will go down to the ground through the toilet so I can walk around. I will then dress up like Elvis and wear blueish make-up so I look dead. It will be great. Maybe Little Dougie Porksword can help me with this project.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Another Possible New Career For Wheel Gun Bob

Just got home from work. What a shitty night. So busy, I didn’t even have 5 lousy minutes to vomit up a blog for the benefit of you, my rabidly loyal fans, until now.

I need a new career, goddammit! Maybe I should try my hand at writing children's books. Everyone seems to be doing it these days from power hungry whores like Hillary Clinton to moral degenerate bullies like Bill O'Reilly. So why not me?

Remember The Story Of Ferdinand The Bull? It was about a pacifist bull that refused to fight and would rather sit under a tree just smelling flowers. What kind of lesson is that to kids? What fucking hippie mother would let little Johnny read that kind of crap? So I thought of writing "The Story Of Ferdinand The Neocon Bull." It will be about a bull that fucks up anyone he thinks could possibly attack him. Pre-emptive goring, as it were. And he will never smell any goddamned flowers since that’s just an invitation for an attack.

Let me lay some other ideas on you, see what you think -

Bert And Ernie Get Gay Bowel Syndrome- Hey kids, don't be afraid of proctologists! Sesame St's favorite butt slammin' puppets tell a heart warming story of love, sickness and trusting doctors.

The Teletubbies Visit Rehab - Lets face it, you gotta be constantly high on something to watch those weird little fuckers. Drug education and awareness.

Where The Wild Things Are And How To Kill Them And Eat Them - An introduction to respecting nature and big game hunting for little kids. [Note to self: see if the Motor City Mad Man will co-author]

James And The Giant Crap - James gets wicked constipated and finally is able to move his bowels by eating lots of peaches and other fruits. Promotes healthy eating.

Gut Shot Elmo - Poor little Elmo strays from the safe confines of Sesame St. and gets caught in the crossfire of a gang banging. Kids will learn to stay close to home.

Barney vs. The Velociraptor - Barney is far too nice and trusting. He pays for it when he gets eviscerated by a fellow Jurassic dweller. Teaches kids to avoid strangers, especially ones with long toenails.

Little Black Sambo's Revenge - Remember those racist kids books from back in the day when it was OK to belittle African Americans? Well in this story, Sambo grows up and extracts his revenge by purchasing a Tech 9 at a gun show and filling the air with lead at an Aryan Nation parade. Kids will learn racial tolerance.

Curious George And The Meth Lab - The Man In The Yellow Hat is on disability and is drinking himself to death so George has to be the bread winner. But holding down three jobs is wearing him out. Until he builds himself a meth lab. Then he can work 24/7/365 without getting tried. Of course, he blows himself up and gets burned over 90% of his body, goes to the hospital, hi-jinks ensue, etc. Promotes responsibility and hard work.

Horton Hears The Who - Horton gets coked up and goes to a Who concert. Teaches music appreciation.

The Little Engine That Said “Fuck That Shit!” - This will help kids learn to know their limits.

Go Dog, Go On Your Neighbor's Lawn - Teaches kids responsibility through taking care of a pet. And ways to avoid having to clean up it’s shit.

Where's Waldo? - If He Was Up Your Butt You'd Know - Stimulate your child's mind with potty humor.

Winnie-The-Pooh: Piglet's My Bitch - Teaches kids tolerance for alternative lifestyles such as sadomasochism.

The Runaway Bunny Gets Sold Into Prostitution - Kids will never, ever want to runway from home again after reading this.

I could go on. And I might. But not right now.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Close Shave

Hey, good news! Mars will be only 43 million miles from Earth October 30th. I know I'm haulin' out the ole telescope this Sunday if it’s clear. A couple years ago Mars came within 34 million miles of us and I was able to make out quite a bit of detail with my 3" reflector (insert joke here, Colin). I could see the southern polar icecap and Syrtis Major (I looked for Marina Sirtis but couldn't see her).

Of course we might want to keep the military on high alert just incase the Martians take this opportunity to invade. Although I'm not sure what an Apache helicopter could do against a death ray. Besides, our military is tied-up defending us against Sunni insurgents in Iraq so we would be fucked anyway. But I know I will be armed, that’s for sure. I never go out to view the stars without packing serious heat as I've mentioned before. It would be foolhardy.

I invite anyone who wants to go to come along, especially hot chicks. I might even go to the top of mount Agamenticus if I can find a designated driver. It will be BYOB. Drop me an email.

I hope I have the time to calibrate my telescope and load some .357s before Sunday!

Friday, October 21, 2005

I Need A Lewinsky

It's Friday. This fucking week is almost over and I'm glad as shit. This is going to be one of those "random thoughts" blogs -

I know I swore off politics and pointed you folks to the vastly more entertaining Rude Pundit, but I must mention that this coming week will be a significant one as far as politics goes. Special prosecutor Patrick Fitzgerald is expected to hand down indictments to those involved in the Valerie Plame leak scandal. This whole scandal is far more important than the crankgobblegate of Bubba Clinton. This is serious. But a lot less entertaining. I just wish there was a sexual component to it. There is a small scatological component to it at least: Karl Rove's nickname is "Turd Blossom" (that should serve him well in jail). But that's it.

So Wheel Gun Bob, you sports loving motherfucker, who do you want to win the World Series - The Chicago White Sox or the Houston Astros? I want the Boston Red Sox to win, that’s who. True story: The Houston Astros were going to have a minor league team in Kissimmee, Fla. but decided against calling it the "Kissimmee Astros" for some reason.

The NBA has come out with a dress code for its players. I guess it's because a lot of them dress in that hip-hop/gang-bang/prison garb and it scares white people. I just think it looks clownish. Every time I see a picture of Alen Iverson, I think that Ringling Bros. must be in town. And whenever they show a shot of the players entering the stadium for a game, I think they must have all arrived there in a single miniature car.

Another goddamned hurricane is fucking shit up in the Gulf of Mexico. Like my penis, it started off huge and is now expending its energy quickly. Global warming? Keep in mind two things - 1) Global warming does exist, it's not some liberal fantasy and 2) The power and duration of a hurricane is affected greatly by water temperature. So what to do about it? Move to New England were the weather is always nice.

Well, that's it for now. Must get back to work. Here's hoping that Karl Rove has the physical ability and stamina to grasp his ankles for hours at a time.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Beware What You Print

I've been trying to avoid the news lately since it just makes me worry and depresses me. But sometimes I can't help seeing some. For example, I was surfing the web for some hot girl on girl action when I came across (as it were) this. Seems that color printers have this tiny code that they print on each page. Visible only with a blue light microscope, it tells "law-enforcement authorities" where and when the printing took place. Useful to track down counterfeiters, useful to track down anti-government types.

Lets say you belonged to the Libertarian Party (in other words not one of the two corrupt, established parties) and you printed out a bunch of leaflets attacking, lets say, The Patriot Act (a fitting example I think). Then the local Republicans see these leaflets and start to get worried. A couple calls to the RNC later and the person who printed them is getting a tax audit.

Paranoid? Maybe. But people who don't get a little paranoid now and then about big brother are giving the government a free pass. And our freedoms will start to erode away. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Zero-G Duck Sauce

Almost everywhere you go you can find a Chinese restaurant. I mean, you go way up to Moosefuck Maine where the population is limited to a couple dozen drooling inbreds, and you want some General Tsiao's Chicken, chances are you can get it. Even some god forsaken pig fucking hell hole that is fifty miles from the nearest Wal-Mart will have Moo Goo Gai Pan readily available. It's amazing. I remember going on rafting and camping trips up in Maine and the further you would go into the sticks, the less signs of civilization you would see. But if you were hungry for some Chinks, you were all set. Because there would always be a Chinese restaurant somewhere near your destination.

I was wondering why the Chinese have a space program. They just sent a couple guys into orbit for a few days and you'd think "Been there, done that. That is like, so sixties." But it makes sense. We now have a permanent space station in orbit around the earth and even under the best circumstances it is a couple hundred miles from the nearest Chinese restaurant. So, being very clever, the Chinese are going to build a restaurant up in near Earth orbit. Our astronauts and various aliens will never be in want of a good Poo Poo Platter again. Or Scorpion Bowl for that matter - the little green men could get totally shellacked before the invasion.

Monday, October 17, 2005


After all these tsunamis, hurricanes, earthquakes and floods all I can think is God is some pissed at us. God of course speaks directly to Republicans so maybe I will ask one of them what’s going on. And, as if there's not enough goddamned shit to worry about, we now have this bird flu. Makes me want to curl up in bed with a fifth of Jack and not leave the house.

One of my main hobbies is worrying. Right behind online porn and ahead of playing guitar. Man, I worry about everything. I worry about the US borrowing too much money from China. I worry about milk's effects on the immune system. I worry about population control. I worry about bills. I worry about our country turning into a Christian theocracy. I worry about oil running out. I worry about living and breathing in a sea of toxic substances. I worry about the future for our children. I worry about Jessica Alba calling the cops on me for sending her 25 love letters a day. I could go on.

I'm not only a glass half-empty kind of guy, I'm a glass half-empty-that-will-surely-fall-on-the-floor-and-break-and-I-will-step-on-it-and-cut-my-foot-and-get-a- life-threatening-infection-and-die kind of guy. Yup, I'm a blast to be around. No wonder the chicks ain't lining up outside my door despite my good looks.

(I just had a sense of deja vu. Did I write this blog before or one very similar? I'm certainly not going to bother to check)

Since I'm so miserable, I will endeavor to change. Here is the list of things I will do:

1. Stop reading the news. I check about two dozen internet news sites a day. All it does is depress me and makes me worry more. From now on, I will just visit sites that feature nekid girls.

2. Get a book written by that bald self-help doofus. After the first page I will probably be so happy I'm not the kind of person that reads that shit that I will forever be Mr. Positive.

3. Get more sea-monkeys. Ah, the healing power of sea monkeys.

4. Stare into a sun lamp for 20min a day while fantasizing about being on a nude beach with Jessica Alba. I actually own a sun lamp. Maybe I will start using it.

5. Get a new goddamned job with normal hours so I can hang with my friends at night. Almost forgot - I don't have friends anymore.

6. Make new friends. Tough to do when you hate people.

7. Go shooting on a regular basis. Somehow the combination of the necessary Zen like clearing of your mind in order to shoot well and the resultant loud explosion and destruction always improves my mood immeasurably.

8. Play guitar more often. Even though I'm in a band, I never pick up my guitar. Good thing I only know three chords. Maybe I can learn more. Are there more than three chords?

9. Drink more. I've been very remiss in this area. I was thinking about it while reading Modern Drunkard Magazine. My god, I think The Codgod has had more to drink than me lately.

10. Get a date with Michelle Wie. A 6 foot tall beautiful athletic 16 year old girl running around in a short skirt. Good god. OK, I will wait a couple years. Maybe Jesica Alba will come around soon.

I would like some input from you, my faithful readers so feel free to send suggestions. It's cheaper than therapy or electro shock.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

Double Penetration

Apple CEO Steve "Hand" Jobs just announced today that the new IPod will have a tiny LCD screen and will be able to play videos downloaded from ITunes. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo. You will be able to get the latest music videos (I hate music videos so much that I will devote an entire blog to them one of these days if you are good) and some TV shows. So here is my question (and yours too, no doubt): What about porn??? It's the only reason I would ever buy the fucker. Actually, I would wait until IRiver or whoever came out with a cheaper version.

It would be great. You could be watching "Sex Starved Fuck Whores #22" or "Tea Bagger Vance" or "Butt Fuck Sluts 3" while standing in line at the grocery store. "Paper or plastic, sir?" "I don't care - check out this double penetration!"

But people will buy it because it looks cool and it’s Apple. Looking cool is important to Mac fags. Doesn’t matter that you have to pay twice as much for Apple shit. Sorry, I’m just lowly un-hip PC scum.

I have a neighbor who is really great despite the fact she works for record companies. She of course has all Mac crap. And they are forever breaking down and costing a fucking mint to fix. Even her IPod has shit the bed twice. I have an equivalent MP3 player I bought for half the price that has been stepped on, dropped about 300 times, has had beer spilled all over it and still performs flawlessly. And her Mac Powerbook is never working. And her Mac desktop got a virus recently (ya, it’s true – it can happen) and she had to pay an ungodly sum of money to have it repaired. I told her to sell all her Mac shit to some unsuspecting little metrosexual, get all PC stuff and I would take care of it for free. Hope she takes me up on it.

Not that I’m a Windows fan per se. I think that the Mac OS 10 operating system is probably better and, surprise, looks cooler than XP. But since only 10% of all software is written for it you’re pretty much fucked if you are a power user.

Ah, who really gives a shit? Time to snap one off and go to bed.


Screamin' Jay Hawkins was one crazy-assed mofo. I was listening to a Screamin' Jay CD on the monotonous ride home from work yesterday. Wow. For those of you not familiar, his big hit was "I put A Spell On You" which was supposed to be a love ballad but ole Screamin' Jay and the band got blind drunk and turned it in to a raucous scream fest. Once the song became a hit, he adopted the crazed coffin dwelling persona/voodoo show suggested to him by Rock 'n Roll 'n Payola DJ Alan Freed. That sort of shit was totally unheard of in the 1950's. Drove the Republicans crazy (go, BFace, go!).

Apart from fathering at least 75 children, Screamin' J also penned "Constipation Blues," which ironically makes me laugh so hard I almost shit myself every time I hear it.

Speaking of which, I almost crapped myself with delight the other day when the Yankees lost their series with the Angels. If the Red Sox can't win then goddamit, the next best thing is a Yankee loss.

Monday, October 10, 2005

Dude, like, is that an IED?

I feel so much better now that I don't have to enlighten/entertain you with Bush bashing blogs anymore. As I mentioned in my last blog, I have delegated that heavy responsibility to the far wittier Rude Pundit. So this frees me up to go on about non-political topics. Even though things are getting really hilarious over there in right-wing Christian land. God bless 'Merca, Goddamn everyone else! Ha! Go get those pointy-headed liberal, pro-choice, anti-god mother fuckers! KILL THEM! What a riot.

Anyway, did you hear about the competition that the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) sponsored in the Nevada dessert? They set up this very difficult several hundred mile long course and timed how quickly these vehicles could traverse it. The kicker was that these souped-up cars and trucks couldn't have a driver or be remotely controlled. They used a combination of GPS positioning, laser sensors and computers to get them were they were going without ending up in a gulch or wrapped around a boulder. The point being to help develop unmanned vehicles for wars of the future. And if Republicans keep at it, there will be plenty of wars in the future (opps, sorry - almost forgot).

Why not train monkeys to do the job? They would be a lot cheaper because they have opposable thumbs and can drive with few alterations to the car. Just have a GPS installed on the monkeys shock collars to automatically jolt the little fuckers if they go off course. And you would get the added benefit of the enemy getting shit thrown at them if the creatures are caught. Or you could fill the Humvees with water and have dolphins drive. Dolphins have a long and distinguished career assisting the Navy finding shit like torpedoes and mines.

Now, I know what you're thinking - PETA will have a fit. Well if they do, have them drive the vehicles instead of the animals! Just tell them that they need to get the vehicle from point A to point B or else some poor snail-darter will die. Then slap a Phish tape in the stereo and off they will go. Don’t let the road side bombs harsh your mellow!

Maybe I will contact DARPA with this idea. And I have lotsa other ideas as well, as I will elaborate on in future blogs now that I'm unencumbered by politics. Lucky you.

Friday, October 07, 2005

The Rude Pundit

I have some good news for you! Maybe this will help cheer you up a little after the recent Red Sox disaster.

Of course you all know my propensity for Bush bashing in this blog. Now most of you are either Bush fans (I still can't fathom why anyone liberal or conservative would not detest the anti-American mother fucker let alone be a fan) or don't care one way or another. So you roll your eyes and surf else were when you see one of anti-Bush diatribes. Well, you won't have to anymore!

I proudly present to you The Rude Pundit who proclaims he is "Proudly lowering the level of political discourse." He blows my blogs away completely. I tip my hat to him. He rules. You must visit him and visit him often. Please read all his recent blogs and archives. An excerpt:

Barbara Bush is, without a doubt, an evil she-devil whose fangs have ripped to shreds piles of politicos, laughing while she licked the gore and guts off her teeth. She is Lady Macbeth gone crone. One sometimes has to pity George Bush, Sr., because you can bet that at dinner parties in Kennebunkport, whenever the scotch has been flowing loosely and the wind is blowing the Atlantic against the edges of the compound, Babs mouths off about Poppy losing in 1992, cutting deep in that alcoholic patrician way that only old money can insult each other. She's a vicious old kooz, so calmly, mesmerizingly mean that daisies curl their petals for safety and male dogs cower in the corner for fear of losing their balls whenever she walks the streets. And when she deigns to allow Poppy to fuck her, she stares at him intensely, telling him that he's not man enough to make her come, get the lawnboy, get the butler, hell, get the goddamn maid to eat her out, anyone would satisfy her eternally dry snatch but Poppy.

No more anti-Bush blogs from me! I will, from now on, just write safe non-threatening blogs that won't angry up your blood no more and leave the rest to my new hero The Rude Pundit.

Thursday, October 06, 2005

Rim Of Fire

You would not have wanted to be my anus last night, I tell you. God no.

I never take dumps here at work. For one thing, I evacuate my bowels usually once a day in the AM. Just habit I guess. I get up, have my breakfast and settle on the pot for a nice excrement whilst deep in philosophical thought. I'm guessing that a majority of you folks reading this blog have at least the occasional BM so don't be so grossed out by the subject matter. We all shit!

Now, I've mentioned before that it seems every time I go to any one of probably several dozen bathrooms in this building to urinate, there is always some poor bastard sitting with his pants around his ankles in a stall presumably crapping his brains out. Speculation in this blog and other places have run from this guy being a company spy to someone who has died while pinching a loaf ala The King. So I'm kinda averse to doing #2s here anyway.

My day is usually very busy due to the fact I have to jam what ever it is I need to do into it before I traipse on down to my place of employment. Keep in mind I work 40 - 50 hours a week in addition to commuting 10 hours a week. So I don't have a hell of a lot of time. I will, for example, whip up my lunch and woof it down in the space of about 5 minutes.

I love spicy foods. The hotter the better. My favorite place to eat in Portsmouth is Shalimar the Indian restaurant and, although I don't frequent it as much as I used to, I still occasionally have dinner there and challenge the cooks to make my meal as hot as possible.

Yesterday, I was in my usual mad rush to get things done. At noon, I needed to eat so I made a sandwich. I always put hot sauce on almost every thing I eat so I grabbed a bottle of it to spread its contents on the bread. I noticed it was empty so I quickly opened up another one and poured it on. Oops! A little too much. But, that's never stopped me before.

I sat down and took two large bites of my sandwich before it hit me like an atomic bomb. This couldn't be hot sauce - it had to literally be on fire! My eyes and nose started watering profusely. I yelped in agony. I drank water to no avail. I hopped around in like a goosed kangaroo. My neighbor, who used to be a chef, dropped by just then to borrow the wheelbarrow and observed me in this unfortunate condition. When I pointed to the opened bottle of hot sauce, he picked it up and read the label. He said "Jesus Christ, do you need to go to the hospital?" I shook my head "no" and pointed outside to the wheelbarrow. "Are you sure you don't want to go?" he pleaded. "No" I croaked, "Now get out!" He quickly left mumbling something about me being fucking crazy.

People are always giving me hot sauces for gifts and the last two bottles I've opened were particularly mild by my standards. So I got into the habit of just glopping them on my food like ketchup. Well the stuff I blindly poured all over my sandwich yesterday turned out to be considered the hottest hot sauce ever made. No kidding.

I must admit that I did scrape some of the excess hot sauce off before finishing my sandwich but finish it I did. It took about half an hour before I regained my strength and equilibrium. Then I ran some errands and drove of to the coal mines. End of story. Or so I thought.

Fast forward to around 10 PM last night. We have these engineering contractors from India that seem to work here 24 hours a day and they are forever bugging me with their computer woes. They like me because I seem to care unlike the other IT drones and I can usually figure out what’s wrong and fix it. Well, one of these little dudes calls me up last night with a software issue. Of course I had no fucking idea what he was talking about. He could have been going on about the Loch Ness Monster for all I could tell. So I did what I usually do. I walked all the way over to engineering so I could see what he meant. As he was showing me his problem, I suddenly started developing a problem of my own. A serious physical one. I excused my self and high-tailed it to the nearest bathroom as fast as my arthritic legs could carry me.

Relax; I won't go into the gory details of the resultant explosion. Suffice to say it wasn't pretty. As a matter of fact, H.P. Lovecraft would have had a difficult time describing it. But that's not the worst. I suspect you've probably already guessed the worst. Yup, it's as hot coming out as going in.

Not to worry, though. My singed anus is doing OK. But you can send it flowers or a get well card if you would like.

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Bellies, Singing Turds, Runway Models

I went to the Deerfield Fair this last weekend. Rides, animals, bad food and lotsa toothless goobers. I asked the guy at the ticket booth if there was a discount for being inbred. He told me that I could get a sandwich in the fair grounds. But the thing that amazed me the most was what the young women were wearing. I guess the big belly look is in these days. I saw countless chicks in hip huggers and short tops with their bellies hanging out. Is this sexy? Quite a few had bellies bigger than mine! Good god! I just wish they sold beer at these fairs. It would be so much more fun. I could live on fried dough and beer. Maybe I would loose all my teefus and get me a big-bellied girlfriend.

So that malodorous, decrepit old troubadour Neil Young has come out with a new album. Now, I know I'm going to piss people off by saying this (BFace?), but I have no use for Neil Young. Never have, never will. He has no talent. I could never figure out why he's popular at all. The dump I took earlier today could probably sing and play guitar not to mention smell better than Neil Young. People have pointed out to me that he is the "grandfather of grunge" like that's a good thing. I just wish he would go away and take that abomination "Rockin In The Free World" with him.

And what WGB blog would be complete with out the obligatory Bush bashing? Sorry guys, I really wish I could bash Bill Clinton for you but he, along with his fellow useless Democrats, are about to be marginalized out of existence. And I don't have a hell of a lot of time so I will reserve my venom for the party in charge of all things - The Republican'ts. So here I go -

That smirking primate some laughingly refer to as our president has chosen the next Supreme Court nominee who just happens to have been his personal lawyer. That, in and of itself, almost sounds unconstitutional. Remember- there is supposed to be three independent branches of government here, checks and balances and all that. What we have instead is a government full of Bush cronies. And she's not even good looking! Why not choose a knockout babe for Supreme Court justice? Hell, just about any runway model would be as qualified as Bush's pal. And we could all speculate what's under her robe if anything. Plus it would give someone Judge Thomas could tell dirty jokes to.

The Red Sox took one up the pooper hard today. Hopefully they can rebound tomorrow.