Rape? Rape? Hell No, It's All Just Harmless Horseplay

I was out a week ago Friday and ran to Goosie at Wing Joint. He suggested we take a quick trip up Battleground to his old place of semi-employment, the Short Porn Steakhouse. It was like 9 or so and I had nothing better to do. So I acquiesced and rode up the road (funny how that phrase rolls off the old keyboard) with Goosie. We walked into the bar area and Goose started chatting with the various meth-head servers at Short Porn that he's trying to nail. Me? I just sat at the bar and drank a beer. About a half hour passes and Goose is telling all sorts of tales to a very half-interested audience of skanky servers. Someone asked me to tell a joke. And as all of you know, I don't tell jokes. But I was nice. I told this gem, "A termite walks into a bar and asks 'is the bar tender here?'" Then I started laughing uncontrollably. Then Goose started laughing uncontrollably. At this point it was like 10. I had drank 2 beers. I ordered a third. The chick tending bar ignored me at first. Then informed me that the manager had cut me off. Did I mention I'd had 2 beers? This manager fellow ambles very awkwardly behind the bar to do something with the cash register. He was a middle-aged bald man with a huge gut. This heavy manager was wearing what appeared to be a dark greenish dress shirt. I decided to engage him in conversation, seeing as I was stone cold sober and he'd just cut me off and all. I asked this fat manager, "What color is your shirt?" He said. "Brown." I said, "I think it's more of a taupe to be honest with you. But whatever it is, the color has a very slimming effect on your massive girth." At that point, knowing what was inevitably coming next, I got up, screamed over to Goose that we're out of here, and strode out of the bar. It was quite an experience - getting cut off at the Short Porn Steakhouse for telling a joke about a termite. It could only happen to me...

I just saw a comment that someone left recently on this stupid blog. In it, the commenter was concerned I might be going to hell for the things I write on here. Now, if there is a hell, I certainly will be there right beside Geilfuss & Ross and it will suck and all. But I'm not going to hell for anything I've written on here. Any damage I've done on here is a mere petty crime against the Lord. It's everything else I've done that I'd have to be worried about. Of course the worst part of hell would be listening to Ross bitch for eternity about the quality of the Scotch available. That would get old quickly. Quickly...

Another pitiful Thanksgiving has come and gone. Gobble. Gobble. Whatever.

I was out at Sloppys for Thanksgiving Eve. The Indian owner of the joint threw a party for his best customers where he had a buffet of Thanksgiving favorites available (ham, turkey, potted meat...). Now, there's no way I'm one of his best customers. But one of the servers in the joint slipped me a free invite to this party and I will eat some free potted meat. So, I showed up. All the regular Sloppys degenerates were there. Moose and his crew. Creepy gay Larry. Scores of toothless Duke fans. Fat women. Skanks. It was about what you'd expect. At one point Brandon & I were outside smoking with this homeless kid who hangs around the Subway next door. This homeless kid was interested in getting some of the free buffet. I told him that I'd be happy to get him a plate, but instead of eating it he'd be better off just taking the food into the shitter and tossing it down. At least he'd be cutting out the middleman that way...

Someone at work in Durham asked me if they could follow me on Twitter. I said, "No."

Some of you may remember a post back in September in which I described my man Legend - you remember, the kid who claimed he just "takes shots and pulls women." I ran into Legend again last Sunday at the infamous Kickin Chicken. I did not see his running buddy Closer with him this time. Legend was at the end of the back bar hitting on 2 chicks with Kirstie Alley like figures. And yes, he was buying shots like his hair was on fire. I counted three rounds of shots for him and his fair-haired buxom babes in like 45 minutes. Eventually I walked over to Legend and we exchanged pleasantries. In fact, Legend hugged me like we were long lost twins or something. I'd only hung out with the guy once and given him a bad football pick to boot. But Legend is a very gregarious guy. He's a real people person. Much like I'd be, if I didn't hate everybody. Anyway, I got to chatting with one of the buxom babes Legend was trying to make time with. She is a social studies teacher at a local high school. What I started doing to amuse myself was debate with this social studies teacher about how many amendments there are to the US Constitution. She kept saying 27 and I kept insisting it was at least 3,000. At least, maybe more. No one can be certain. She tolerated my silliness okay. She kept running her hand threw her hair - a telltale sign that a girl might be DTF, as my man The Situation might say. I was not DTF myself. I'm more DTM - down to mock - most days anyway. I think this voluptuous social studies teacher might have caught on that I was fucking with her a little when I went off on a long tirade against the Treaty of Ghent. I'm against all treaties. Ghent. Versailles. Paris. Westphalia. Whatever. Treaties suck.

I heard a little more about this situation at Penn St. Remember this, at Penn State there's no rape. It's just horseplay. Rape? No. Just horseplay. The rhythmic slapping of ass cheeks - that's just horseplay. I'm gonna start calling Penn State Horseplay U. Because at Penn St there is no rape, it's all just fucking horseplay...

Like, Like, Like, Like, Like, Like, Like...

The last I mentioned my new favorite Russian emigre, one Vladimir Grammer, I noted that Vladimir had posted on the Faceshit that he was in a "relationship" with a chick that resembled a retarded Christina Ricci. Well, that special "relationship" is over. Kaput. Done. Vladimir has moved on to another young babe in the greater Baltimore metro area. Yes, according to his Faceshit page, Vladimir is now in a "relationship" with a chick who works at Friendly's Ice Cream, is studying locksmithing at a community college, and looks like a dude on meth. A photo of the two lovebirds making googly eyes at each other appears on Vladimir's Faceshit page (Vladimir & I are are now "friends" via the Faceshit - why he contacted me to be his friend is beyond me...). Now, you may think that being in a "relationship" with a chick who scoops shitty ice cream, looks like a man, is methed out, & is involved in the shady world of picking locks would be a bad thing. But it's not a bad thing. It's a step up from being in a "relationship" with a harelipped retard. A huge step. Huge. Go Vladimir...

Speaking of Faceshit, I've been at it again with hitting the "Like" button all over the place. Recently I saw a bunch of stuff about someone being forced out of their home due to some fire damage. I was hitting "Like" all over that shit. Like, Like, Like, Like, Like, Like...

Huge start to the college hoops season last night, as Belmont covered the 11&1/2 like champions against Duke. Right at tip off out at Sloppys, 2 Duke fans were running their mouths about how Duke should bury Belmont by 25. I asked these morons if they remembered the NCAA tourney game in 2008 between the Devils and Bruins - the one Duke pulled out mainly due to pitiful coaching decisions the last minute by Belmont. These dudes had no clue what I was talking about. True Duke fans there. That game was only 3 &1/2 years ago. I remember it like it was played last night. And these huge Duke fans were totally clueless. The fact is that Belmont has made the NCAA tournament 4 straight years. If you follow hoops you know they're good. But Duke fans don't follow hoops. They follow Duke. They are not hoops fans in the least. They're front runners who buy clothes with Duke written all over the place - hats, sweatshirts, t-shirts, coats, panties, garters, corsets, baby dolls, anything without a crotch, etc. They didn't go to Duke. They couldn't tell you the name of the starting quarterback for the Duke football team (the kid's name is Renfree by the way, and he's not bad). Hell, they probably couldn't get to Durham even with a GPS. But they like to associate with a winner. Sad, Sad, Sad...

Speaking of Sloppys and tip off, just before the UNC/Mich St game last night, Moose was running his mouth about Carolina winning by 20. I yelled across the bar that I'd take as much of that as he'd give me (the real line was 9). And Moose backed right off. He's not stupid. Good thing for him too, as the Heels did not cover any 20 damn points...

Speaking of the UNC/Mich St game last night, I saw where our fake leader, one Barack Hussein Obama, was there catching the game with, who appeared to be, James Harrison sitting to his right. I know the Steelers are getting prepared for their huge game in Cincinnati Sunday. And I know Harrison has been battling some injuries the last few weeks. So, given all that, you can imagine my surprise to see Harrison, in full drag, sitting next to Barry at this silly game being played on a boat. Very odd...

I keep seeing ads for a movie version of Puss In Boots everywhere. And I feel like I'd be totally lost if I saw this film. You see, I haven't read the book. I haven't read a book. I'm functionally illiterate. But I am lactose tolerant. I've got that going for me. I'll drink some damn 2% milk anytime I fucking want. In fact, I'm leaving for some right now...

What Happens In Joe Paterno's Team Showers...

A reader of this blog was curious if I was gonna weigh in on this story out of State College, PA about pedophilia, cover-ups, & evil. And I would, but it's so bad that silly jokes about it seem inappropriate. Like I could point out the irony of the name of the kid who walked in on Jerry Sandusky raping a helpless kid in Joe Paterno's team shower being McQueary. But that's a little classless. I won't go there. There was always something about Mr Paterno that seemed phony to me. But I figured over time that I might be wrong about that. I kind of decided that maybe he was just a strange old man that I couldn't relate to. Well, now I know that I was right about not being able to relate to Mr Paterno and about him being a phony. I would never act as an enabler for a buddy of mine to rape innocent young boys in the showers of my football facility. And give him an office in my football facility that acted as little more than a de facto staging area to rape little boys right and left. That I can't relate to. I am a terrible, terrible person. But that kind of behavior would never occur to me. Mr Paterno has exhibited a level of evil seldom seen outside of Mohamed Atta's apartment during the 90's as he was getting ready to execute the plan for 9/11. Since Mr Paterno did not break the law, he will walk free and live out the rest of his life in semi-dementia clamoring against mysterious forces who he will claim have wronged him. He'll be pitiful. If he's lucky, he'll die pretty soon.

As far as Mr Sandusky is concerned, he's truly the lucky man. To have a friend with the power of Mr Paterno, who basically bankrolled his predilection for raping little boys for decades, was very fortunate. The fact that Mr Paterno made it possible for Mr Sandusky to continue raping little boys until the ripe old age of 66 or 67 has to be considered a real stroke of fortune for him. Now, what will happen to Mr Sandusky at this point is one of two things. He'll go to prison and have holy hell brought down on him by the sodomites. In other words, he'll have his ass pounded so badly that he poops cum the rest of his life. And since Mr Sandusky has to know this, the other possibility of what will happen seems much more likely. He'll take the easy way out and kill himself. Mark my words.

As for the little boys who were raped, used, abused, and tossed aside to be scarred for life by Mr Sandusky and, by extension, Mr Paterno, you have to hope they aren't totally doomed. But I bet they are doomed. Not to get all serious, but I can promise everyone reading this blog that being abused by a pedophile is not something you put in the past. It's not possible. You just cope. That's it. And I wish I believed in hell, because men like Mr Sandusky deserve an eternity of getting ass slammed by old school pipe-hitting brothers. But hell doesn't exist. The closest thing to it is being an 8 year-old kid who gets to fulfill a dream and attend some program for underprivileged youth at the Penn State football facility. A kid who is really excited about being there and hanging out with his heroes, the Nittany Lion players and coaches. But instead of having the time of his young life, he gets raped by Jerry Sandusky in Joe Paterno's shower room. That's an all too real hell.

The Durham Rules

I'm not gonna make fun of Tim Tebow's 2nd straight awful performance, this latest one coming against Detroit last Sunday. The kid can't play. But it is worth noting a new phenomenon called Tebowing. I was out last Sunday at the infamous Kickin Chicken for Sunday Ticket & during the 4 o'clock games, when Denver was playing the Lions, I started Tebowing right in the middle of the back bar. There were about 50 or 60 folks in the area at the time. What I would do is this - anytime Tebow was sacked or threw a pitiful girly like toss wide of his target, which was often, I'd drop to one knee, put my elbow on dropped knee, and bow my head like I was praying - in other words I was Tebowing. The first couple times I Tebowed, the folks around me, who were paying zero attention to the Bronco game, looked at me like I was crazy. But after awhile, even the dumbest Steelers' fans caught on to what I was doing. And everyone was laughing their asses off. I must have Tebowed 10 or 12 times in total. I liked Tebowing. I encourage everyone to get to a bar for Sunday Ticket tomorrow and Tebow during the Oakland/Denver game. The reason to try and get out tomorrow to Tebow is that I'm not sure how many more chances you'll have to Tebow. I can't imagine John Fox & John Elway continuing to start Tebow for much longer unless he shows dramatic improvement - which is not impossible, but highly unlikely. So, get out there & Tebow now while you have the opportunity, because those opportunities are dwindling - quickly.

Speaking of last weekend's Sunday Ticket, it happened to fall on the day before Halloween. Now, as I've mentioned before on this pathetic blog, I don't generally dress up for the occasion. But I made a rare exception last week. I went to Sunday Ticket as the 10, Troy Fucking Smith, as I donned my #10 Ravens' jersey for the 1st time since the AFC Championship game in January of 2009. When I informed several folks of this weird turn of events via text, I got a couple interesting replies. Geilfuss noted that the 10 & I do kinda look alike. And Luke of Jacoby fame responded by inquiring if I was in blackface. And the answer was no, I was not in blackface. Lots of brothers come into the Kickin Chicken for Sunday Ticket & I didn't want to explain to a hundred of them why I was wearing blackface. That could of got testy, to say the least.

Speaking of Halloween costumes, Brandon was also out in costume for Sunday Ticket. He donned a #22 Cowboys' jersey and old school Cowboys' hat. In other words, Brandon was an obnoxious Dallas fan for Halloween. And I gotta say, Brandon came through like a champion as an obnoxious Dallas fan. During the Cowboy/Philly game, Brandon screamed for a penalty flag to be called on the Eagles on just about every play - just like all Dallas fans. He also kept screaming, "Let's go Romo!" - again just like a typical Dallas fan. I was amused greatly by the shenanigans. I contributed a bit myself to the frivolity. I contributed by yelling, "Ron Mexico is a convicted felon!" every time Mike Vick dropped back to pass. Or yelling, "Pedophile!" every time the camera caught a glimpse of Andy Reid. We had the regulars in the Wing Joint laughing uncontrollably. In fact, at one point, my man Goosie looked over, between fits of laughter, and said, "That is so wrong." He had a point...

I mentioned in a previous post that I've been working over in the Bull City recently, Durham, North Carolina to be exact. Anyway, I won't go into my typical and tired disdain for Durham yet again. I'm sure everyone is sick of that. Instead, I'm gonna delve into some of the unique laws that are only on the books in Durham (and possibly Ann Arbor, Cambridge, & Berkeley). For instance, did you know that in Durham it is illegal to walk past a homeless person with a bag of food in your hand? It's 100% true. The rationale behind this ordinance is that homeless folks feel bad enough about being homeless already, and to walk past one with a tasty sandwich or taco or gyro is rubbing in the fact that the homeless people can't afford to get a tasty lunch for themselves. It's a very thoughtful law, if you ask me. I got a ham & swiss on rye the other day for lunch. While walking back to the office I saw a homeless gentleman standing on a corner. And I really didn't want to get in trouble with the Durham PD. So, I stopped in my tracks and wolfed down my sandwich. I was sensitive. I didn't break any laws. And the homeless fellow didn't feel like less of a person. Win. Win. Win. Another interesting statute unique to Durham regards getting rid of trash. As I've mentioned before on this stupid blog, trash cans are outlawed in Durham. You can't find one anywhere. I know on the face of it, this law seems ridiculous. But it's not. The reason there are no trash cans in Durham is that the city wants people to discard their garbage right on the city sidewalks. This way, if there is some bread crust or the odd french fry lying around, the hungry illegal immigrants that permeate Durham don't have to go through the humiliating ritual of digging edible food out of a garbage can. They can simply pick up the edible trash right off the ground and enjoy a free & nutritious treat with no hassle. It's a very enlightening concept if you think about it. One final interesting law of note involves looking people in the eye as you pass them on the street. It's forbidden. And with good reason. I learned this the hard way a number of years ago. I was ambling down 9th St and walked by a homely Duke grad student. I made the error of saying, "Good afternoon," as I walked by her, looking her straight in the eye, just as I was raised to do in the orphanage years ago. Big mistake on my part. A minute later, a very nice Durham police officer stopped me. She explained to me that I had really hurt this homely girl's feelings by looking her in the eye. The female cop told me that it was very jarring & unsettling for this young ugly Dukie. It was the first time any man had looked at her since she moved to Durham. I guess at orientation, all new Dukie men are told to never look a Dukie woman in the face. It has long term scarring effects on them. The rationale being that no man has ever made eye contact with them before and to do so would freak these girls out to the point where they'd need months of counseling to venture back out of the library. I do know this, I haven't made that mistake again. It's all about live & learn in the Bull City. And I'm an idiot, but a quick learning idiot. So, I've got that going for me...

Joe Biden Whips It Out

I just checked my mail and in the stupid little box was a circular promoting Robbie Perkins for mayor of Greensboro. On one side of this piece of propaganda is a glossy photo of Mr Perkins, looking very Nixon-esque - all smarmy and crooky. The fake smile on his strange face is hard to look at for more than a few seconds - it's scary & nauseating at the same time. The other side of the little leaflet type mailer has some words written on it. I guess the words are supposed to be reasons to motivate me to get off my ass on Election Day and vote for Mr Perkins. However, the words are not gonna motivate me to do anything on Election Day other than sit around wondering what the hell to watch without the NBA on television (and I was gonna do that anyway...). I'm very concerned about why I received this flyer in the mail. How did the Perkins campaign get my name??? I'm gonna contact them and ask. That's for damn sure. I don't vote. Voting is a useless waste of time. Why would they even bother to send me mail in the 1st place??? This Robbie Perkins guy is pushing it here. Don't send me mail if I don't know you. It's uncool and downright un-American.

The Rhino Times had an issue out recently in which they claimed to have been publishing their little free paper for 20 years. I have no idea if that's true or not. And I don't particularly care either. But one part of this supposed anniversary issue caught my eye. They ran a copy of what they purported to be their 1st issue in 1991. It was like 2 pages long. I read most of it. I really did. And it reminded me of something you'd see being passed out at a rally for retard rights - pointless, poorly written, and insulting. The Rhino has certainly come a long way over 20 years. Now they have like 60 pages in an issue. They run opinion pieces by Scotty Card and Scotty Roast - and those tend to be pointless, poorly written, inane, silly, sophomoric, vapid, and generally unreadably crappy. I do like the news articles in the Rhino. They are actually informative as hell. So there's that. And they do have the NY Times Crossword - I like that too, as it passes the time. Happy Birthday, Rhino!!! Keep up the mediocre work.

Speaking of birthdays, I had one myself the other day. I somehow managed to make it to 41. That's astounding. I can tell I'm getting old because I'm having a harder and harder time seeing things up close. The last time I was at the damn optometrist, my man Dr Cotter informed me I'm gonna need autofocal (that may not be the exact term old Dr Cotter used) lenses soon. Damn aging. It sucks. If I could just run into that chick from Flirting With Disaster somewhere, all this tedious aging shit would be worth it...

Someone left a note on this dumb blog asking me about how things have been going in Durham (I'm working over there, at my real fake job, until Thanksgiving). And I don't have anything new to say about Durham that I haven't said before on this unbelievably stupid blog. Durham is awful. The people smell. The roads suck. Duke is full of pretentious gasbags. And the whole city is a big garbage dump. It's worse than Kabul. Way worse. As far as the work at my real fake job, it's okay. Silly, but okay.

Speaking of people smelling, hippies smell. They really do. Some hippie types have been camping out downtown to protest something (maybe Robbie Perkins). I think they are calling it Occupy Greensboro. I know nothing about these people. But there's one thing I am certain of about this angry mob - they smell. Hippies always smell. They fucking smell. I'm gonna be downtown in about an hour for GamePlan at Stumbles, and I'm gonna walk across W Market St to see these occupiers for myself (if they're still occupying). But I won't be able to stick around long. Because they will smell terrible. They're hippies. Hippies smell. Are you getting my drift???

My man Joe Biden & his massively erect & medically induced boner have been back in the news. Mr Biden was at some function and claimed that if Barry's sad little jobs bill didn't get passed by congress that more women will be raped. And believe it or not, I get Joe's point here. If you think about it, his point makes perfect sense. Here's how - without more wasteful spending endlessly being thrown down the pisser in DC, men will get so angry and sexually frustrated that they'll be compelled to resort to rape to get their fill of the old ripe hole. It stands to reason. I'm with Biden on this one. Well thought out there, Joey B.

I know no shame

Doing The Furniture Market

Someone requested this, so here it is, or as they say say on Maury, here it be. I walked into this huge furniture showroom Saturday afternoon about 4. Here in the triad, in High Point, NC to be exact, they have this giant furniture market twice a year where furniture fetishists from around the globe descend to wheel and deal in the dark world of ottomans and teak bed frames. I had never been to the thing before myself. But I had the opportunity to make a few bucks at yet another fake fake job at this furniture market deal. I was handing out free beer and wine by this escalator. And I gotta tell you, I was very popular as a result. In 2 & 1/2 hours I opened 30 bottles of wine and passed out at least 100 beers. These furniture folks like to get a little toasty while leering at the latest designs in throw rugs and shitty wall art. Of particular interest to this disinterested observer was the crowd out at this event. It broke into 2 groups, 1) drunk women between 25 and 55, and 2) gay dudes from around the globe. I had to have met gay fellas from at least a dozen countries. I liked the drunk women a whole lot more. Why, you may ask? They tipped better. Way better. I don't know what it is about gay foreign furniture freaks, but they were much stingier with their wadded up bills than the drunk ladies. Hell, one drunk furniture maven kept handing me $10 bills for filling up a cheap plastic cup with some red wine. I was a huge fan. Also of note at this event is that the jittery kid who spilled a salad on a dude's shoulder at a wedding rehearsal dinner back in June (I blogged about it then) was out doing the barback work. He was running all over this huge showroom bringing wine and beer to 4 bartenders as fast as possible. And I think the kid has found his calling. He did a really good job. It's a little sad that he found his niche so late in life (I believe the kid is in his mid 50s). Most barbacks discover their talent to drop off beer and wine when they're like 16. But I applaud the jittery kid who dropped a Greek salad on some dude's shoulder - better late than never. I even told the guy how impressed I was. I said, " Mark, if you need a reference for a barback job, feel free to use the name of someone here. Not me of course, but someone. You've obviously found your niche." He replied, "Don't patronize me." I was impressed that the kid knew the word patronized. And I told him so. He thought I was patronizing him again by telling him how impressed I was that he knew the word patronize. You con't win with guys like that. I go and try and do something nice and this is the thanks I get...

On a dissimilar note, I sat there at the infamous Kickin Chicken yesterday and watched the entire Dolphin/Denver game (I had a big interest in the Broncos covering -2.) Anyway, I just wanna be clear about this for folks who did not watch the whole game or just saw highlights. Tim Tebow was atrocious. In the 1st three quarters he threw like a girl. Everyone at the back bar, including the Denver fans, were laughing out loud at the kid. It was comical. Now the Broncos did pull out the win in OT. That was due to his receivers making some great catches and Miami playing a semi-prevent defense. It's hard to credit Tebow much at all for Miami's epic collapse and bad coaching decisions. Overall Tebow was Ken Dorsey bad. Terrible. Putrid. Awful. He has to get better. He can't play worse. He can't possibly play worse. Can he???

Someone asked me if I was planning to see the new movie version of The 3 Musketeers that is in theaters. I didn't honestly know there was a new, and I'm sure needless, version of the book on film. I simply mumbled something about candy bars in reply...

Larry Gives Me $$$

I was out at Sloppys the other night, sitting at the bar with Brandon, watching Game 2 of the Fall Classic. And there was this old, drunk, and gay guy in there named Larry. Brandon has been telling me for months that this old drunk hands him random amounts of cash for no apparent reason. I've warned Brandon about taking the guy's money. You gotta figure that at some point this Larry will want something in return for all the cash he's doled out. I have no idea what his agenda might be. But it may be unsavory to say the least. Anyway, I spoke to Larry a little bit myself outside smoking. And he seemed drunk and harmless. I was pleasant to him and all. Well, about 10:30 or so Larry stumbles over to where Brandon & I are sitting. And sure enough, Larry hands Brandon some money. Then Larry hands me some money. He did it so quickly and innocuously that all I could think to say was "thanks." So, now I'm involved with getting cash from old, drunk, and gay Larry. Although I'm not too sure what he could possibly expect from me for a measly $12...

I was flipping around the old TV the other night and came across this show called Revenge. I had no idea what the hell was going on. And no one seemed especially vengeful to me. A little pissy maybe, but not vengeful...