Archive for the ‘whatevs’ Category

Tricks he will do when children appear, and how they laugh when he’s near!


Cockgobbly, the wayward dolphin

So, in the hopes of trying to break up the review posts with a post from me in some other form, I have had an open text document sitting here for days now, waiting for me to write something about nothing in order to post. So basically every time I click on the textedit thing, forgetting that document is in hiding, I get to randomly be reminded when big black letters appear on my screen saying “TEN REASONS WHY YOU SHOULD RAPE A DOLPHIN”, and unfortunately, even though I didn’t actually finish the list, when the power went out the other day, I lost whatever reasons I had, and can now only remember “It takes a second to rape a dolphin, but leaves a lifetime of memories”. I assume that any other reason for violating blowholes ranks far lower than this reason, so I guess losing the document wasn’t the greatest of losses.

Dolphins are creepy, perma-grinning, sociopathic stalker gang rapists. Seriously, look that shit up. They’re also intelligent to the point where some scientists and researchers want them classified as non-human persons with the same rights, and should not be held captive in aquariums and the like. That means they know exactly what they’re doing, those clever little fuckers. They don’t just hunt down and rape other dolphins, they are also notorious for raping people that unknowingly float their asses out into the ocean thinking that flipper is just coming over for a quick kiss and a how-do-ya-do? (not very well, apparently, because you’re now being raped by a dolphin).

The point is, if you have an affinity for the ocean, and for whatever reason decide that these warnings aren’t enough to scare you away from the water forever, exiling yourself to safety on land with the rest of the -human- sociopaths, at least until dolphins grow legs and take over, then I suggest taking an offensive approach to the problem, seek them out, tie their flippers up, and proactively violate the chicken of the sea. Oh, and one other thing, via having found this quote, “In 1991 an English man was prosecuted for allegedly having sexual contact with a dolphin. The man was found not guilty after it was revealed at trial that the dolphin was known to tow bathers through the water by hooking its large penis around them.“, I would also suggest you stop letting them tow your stupid asses around with their enormous cocks.

Hey, guess what?


No new review this Tuesday, try not to weep yourself into dehydration, folks. Instead click the link and go laugh at those fuckers, instead.

I pray the lord my soul to ignore…


Oh, PS…
Remember when I used to post the screenshots of the moment and the mp3 of the day like six years ago (which never changed daily), well, here’s the mp3 thing back again, download that way —->

Are you afraid of weird looking kids from the nineties? Well, you should be…


HI EVERYBODY! It’s a new review of Are You Afraid of the Dark?! We certainly are moving right along through the first season, skipping merrily, and a bit handicappededly, and thwarting the insidious plans of ghouls and old women left, right, and center. So, on it goes…

S01 E04 The Tale of the Twisted Claw

Little kid sleeping in one of the tiniest beds ever, dreams of doomy death thing coming in, obviously with a smoke machine around, wakes up, guy is still there, Midnight Society screams, the story ends. wtf… Okay they start a new story, now. Ooh David, Blondie’s new bf , is going to tell one, it makes her all hot and bothered in her special place. Here goes…

It’s the night before Halloween, “the night of tricks”. Someone does something to a house, and shaving cream is involved and toilet paper, and all that jazz. Time to go to the scary house, unfortunately no robots. Anyway, Kevin is the daring on, apparently looking for adventure. He goes to the house, probably to plant bombs, or in this case put shaving cream on the front door, but lady opens door, and she gets creamed in the face. OHHOHO! Good thing her glasses were on, amIright? She laughs maniacally, rubs it all over her, and starts sucking her fingers clean.

Kevin is dressed as a bum, Doug is, I don’t know, an old guy wearing a sheet or something? They go past the house again, obviously it’s the day after the creaming incident, and decide to trick or treat there, because they’re stupid retards. Kids do the darndest things. Woman is all excited the kids came, they were the only ones that did, so she decides they deserve a “special treat”. She gives them what looks like a dead chicken’s foot in a box, but says it’s a wooden vulture claw and people get three wishes with it. She insists. Warning: BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR, YOU JUST. MIGHT. GET. IT.

OH, it moved! No it didn’t! No, it totally did! Kids in masks gang up on them, looking horrifying and sounding upset with life. Candy is stolen, angry kids on bikes, chasechasechase, but no catch. Doug wished for no more trick or treats at some point that I missed because it wasn’t important, but apparently them getting it stolen was the wish being granted.

what's up, dickheads?

Hey, you don't want that candy, do you?

In school, Kevin wants to beat kid with red hair in some sports crap, wishes, and claw thing turns green and gets all -wish granty- and then we see everyone outside what looks exactly like my old elementary school, playing something or other and smelling like dirty monkey children. There is a kid in a wheelchair with a gimp hand out on the field cheering, or at least, flailing, on the competitors which makes you feel weird for a second, as there is no real reason for people to have gotten that kind of wheelchair all the way out in the middle of the grass for that purpose.

Anyway, a tree starts growling, red hair guy falls, it’s in slow motion and all “ARRRRrrrrrrroowwwwwrrrr”, and Kevin wins the race. Oh and other kid broke his leg or some crap. Hopefully they cut it off and replace it with the dead vulture chicken talon foot thing. Two wishes down the drain, they each have two more to go. They get in an argument and Kevin displays some of the worst acting ever, which was obviously inspired by watching too many Joe Pesci movies. He wishes Doug’s parents would disappear, so they get in a car accident. Holy crap there are so many wishes to go. Okay, I have to break this down a fuck load faster…

remaining wishes:

-wishes dead grandfather was there to help them (arrives in a lovely old car, of course)
-wishes they didn’t break old woman’s vase and the incident the night before Halloween never happened. (aww, how pleasant)

Things are all back to normal, grandfather is re-dead, parents are un-accidented, other kid is unbroken, mask kids never chased them, yadda yadda you get the picture. Vase at the door, message says “trick or treat”.

Some mysterious musings, the end. OOooh campfire hooligans are sooooo scared.

I declare this meeting of the Midnight Society closed, until next time, pleasant dreams, every one.

Guess what!?


Guess you're stuck with me for another four years.

Why I probably hate you: The everything you like is stupid edition.


So, here I am again, with another “Why I probably hate you” update. I was meaning to write a new one for a while and every time I try to figure out what to write about, I just repeatedly come to the same conclusion: I hate too many things to figure out what the fuck to make the subject about. Maybe I don’t always hate so much stuff, but lately my patience and tolerance is at such an all time low that everything is stupid and greasy. Here goes:

1. Lady Retard Gaga- How does nobody see she is just a one person incarnation of Insane Clown Posse? She has the exact same M.O., and it’s so fucking transparent and retarded. She calls her fans little monsters, she calls herself, well I don’t know what, but something like mother monster, or queen monster, or some stupid shit. The point is, you assholes are the new juggalos, you traded in your retard face paint for uncomfortable shoes and glittery sunglasses you can’t see out of. You’re not a special little snowflake, you’ve been swallowed by a collective of idiots crying in their pillows because the only people they think understand how they feel is a chick in a leotard banking on your stupidity, and a crowd of sniveling morons that think they look good with meat stapled to their face. Get a fucking clue.

Lady Gaga and Insane Clown Posse Fans, a match made in retard heaven.

So, everything I wrote up there was done on pain killers, while I passed out every couple of minutes, my head at risk of going smash into my keyboard, until I finally just passed out. It’s always amusing to look back and see what I wrote in my passy outyness, since I do not remember. AAAAAAnyway, I guess it’s time for two…

2. Black Swan- I realize I am a bit late talking about this god awful piece of crap, but since everyone seemed to have been obsessed with omg just how scary this was, whatever the fuck, writing about it anyway. I am convinced that the movie was only popular because of the five minute lesbian seen that takes place between Queen Amidala and Family Guy girl. Take that part out, and you got nothing. Amadala, yet again, does what she does best, portrays herself to be the most boring person on the fucking planet. The most monotone, unemotional acting since that plant by the cash register of Chotchkies in Office Space (which was still better).

And the award goes to...


Merry Christmas?


This is scary, link is worse.

Only you could be so bold.


YES, it’s been months since Life Day, and obviously time to ramble about more Star Wars. Now, if you aren’t aware, or you don’t care, or you just have a “life” and don’t think about things like this, the whole mystery “the force” is neatly explained away, at least in part, and put to bed in Phantom Menace. Of course the explanation given by Qui-Gon “I make terrible decisions” Jinn, did nothing but leave people feeling either angry, or at the very least, totally annoyed with the crap story they came up with.

Hey baby, you ever hear of the force?

Now, “the force” isn’t actually midi-chlorians, but these bacteria things are what help Jedi to feel or interact with it. They exist as a separate sentient entity (or “sentientity”) that live symbiotically inside all living things. The higher they number inside your cells, the more force sensitive you are. Some people have huge amounts of these midi-chlorians, especially Anakin, or as he is later known, Darth Dickfrown. He was actually a force baby, conceived by his virgin slave mama and some kind of midi-chlorian rapist in the night, which apparently makes him the most powerful whatever he is, ever.

Besides the more obvious questions, I was wondering, with the small amount of information haphazardly thrown our way via George Lucas’ plague brain, can these force-wielding hyper-intelligent bacteria be considered an STD, making Anakin the most contagious of all the Jedi? Is Padme dealing with a severe case of force clap given to her by her younger, even more annoying, lover? Can you give a bit of the force to someone by way of unsafe sexing, making non-Jedi either Jedi themselves (depending on the amount of sex and fluids involved), or at least, can it make them temporarily force sensitive?

These are pretty serious things that need to be addressed, Mr. Lucas, because honestly I don’t see how one can just say something like “Oooh that mysterious thing you feel is being relayed to you by way of microscopic whoseewhatsists that live inside you”, and not even bother to talk about how contagious ths may or may not be. What if the Jedi had gang bangs and group sex? There’d be force stuff all over the place. Would the receivers, for lack of a better word, come out of the party feeling more Jeditastic and aware of the force than they ever had before? Could a big enough gang bang create a Jedi with infinite wisdom and indescribable powers? What the fuck was Shmi Skywalker doing when she got pregnant with Anakin, anyway? And why the hell did she seem so nonchalant about having a kid while still a virgin? This is some serious angel Gabriel shit right here.

Anyway, Yoda has a lot of issues with Jedi forming bonds, perhaps he is aware of the power they harness inside their overheated space-loins. Could you imagine the hypothetical force monster that could be created by the unholy union of Anakin and Mace Windu? Even Jesus H. himself would have a contender in the crazy motherfucker they would create. And then Yoda and Obi-Wan would have to have a little bearded green baby to defeat it. Yodanobi Vs. Mace-akin would be an amazing moment in Star Wars history, becoming a cautionary tale of woe told in padawan health class to any force sensitives planning on having unsafe space sex.

*deep breath* Think about it.

Hey look, it’s Star Wars music time! Point, click, save:

-Darth Vader (Who Gives a Sith)
-Force You To Love Me

Take them shits out… put ’em on the dash


Do you love blowjobs? Do you love hookers? Do you hate being able to keep your food down?
Then perhaps you need to start this video at nine minutes and enjoy the ride, folks.

Making friends is hard… : (


Want to hear a poem?

ok sure
tell me the poem while I eat my cocoa pebbles and take all my millions of medications
well… type me

There once was a gal from South Philly
Touched in the head and quite silly
She stripped down all the way
And proceeded to say..
My goodness, it’s awfully chilly!
Get that?


lol, glad you liked it

there once was a girl from chestnut street…
who could not stand the summer heat…
she took off her gown (?)
and along came a crowd…
gang rape sucks…
the end.

Jason is offline.

Maintenance (It won’t be that long *cough*)



In the mean time, enjoy these octopi that you lovely readers colored and sent in.




Only a gentleman lets someone else blow out the candles. Have a good one, sir.



So a while ago a friend of mine told me the Yo Gabba Gabba website was impressive and I should check it out. At the time I barely knew what it was, other than it was a popular kids show of some sort. So soon thereafter I went to the site to quickly check out what it was he was talking about, and the horror that unfolded within will stay in my brains forever, or until disease scrapes it from my mind with its angry, bloody claws.

First off, if you click the “freestyle” button on the bottom right of their page, it erases all the links and plays music while you do useless crap on the screen. Essentially the point, I assume, is to limit a child’s ability to pay attention to what is being sung as they play with the random crap, while they are subliminally being indoctrinated into the insanity of Yo Gabba Gabba by way of their creepy ass song lyrics. After listening to several of these horrifying songs, I assumed there was no way I was the only one on the planet, (besides Stephen, who was simultaneously experiencing this trauma with me) to notice the terrible evil hidden behind those giant, dildo-shaped creatons.

In fact, the only thing I could find was someone complaining about, well, about the fact that some of them are undeniably dildo-shaped. Not one person, that I have found, has mentioned that the lyrics are creepy, weird, and seem to be telling children shit you don’t want them to hear from adults dressed as giant, twisted, nightmare-creatures. If nobody has said it on the internets, that means it hasn’t occurred to anyone, anywhere, obviously. This is astounding! The lyrics are (allegedly) like a kidnapper’s how-to manual for children.

Obviously their plan has been working too well, as apparently most adult humans with children are completely fooled by giant, man-eating, sextoyish fur-creatures. But what if we took them away, and put it in another context? I figure this is the only way to help you see the monstrosity you have unleashed into your child’s brain. So I found some random pictures of not-so-savory characters, and put Yo Gabba Gabba quotes from their songs in. Just imagine these people saying (or worse yet, singing them in a high-pitched baby voice) these lyrics to your children. Fuck, adults write the songs, not children, and definitely not cutesy, giant, mentally deficient alien things. It’s adults who write these songs for kids. This had to occur to them. We don’t know what these people look like; maybe they look like these people in the pictures How does that make you feel, parents? HOW?!

In fact, it seems the only one that knows something is amiss is that miserable white thing you see up there frowning, who is from the actual show, but they barely let him do anything, and try to keep him quiet (it’s true). Look at that face and tell me some shit didn’t go down when the camera wasn’t rolling. You can’t, can you?

Anyway, click and let me take you on a horrifying journey through Yo Gabba Gabba… *skips jauntily on a rainbow made of lollipops and waking nightmares*


Second shot fired from a flare gun on lonely island.


Welcome to the second installation of my ill-conceived letters sent to human females on OkCupid. In this update you, like this lucky girl, will get to learn more about me. You will also learn that sometimes I write in fragments. Sometimes I write in long winding sentences that collect bits of purpose off the ground as it goes. And I am addicted to commas. Grammar aside, I kinda like this letter. I don’t think I come off as too much of an oddball. I just think it’s too jokey and as a person I have a great levity about me. I am jokey, but I have substance. But I failed to communicate that in this letter. Maybe that’s why she didn’t write back. Or maybe it’s because my handle is “CatSexxerUpper” but not because I have sex with cats. It’s because I have a barbed penis. Like a male cat. So I am the cat in that sex formula. Not me and a cat. I am the sex cat. Get it? Oh you’re about it. Jerk.

Also I should warn you that this entry will have a spoiler from the movie Up! in it. So if you haven’t watched Up! yet and think you might one day and want to be emotionally invested in the characters or plot you shouldn’t read this.

Hi. My name is Mugsy.
Hmmm… I’m not sure how to start. This whole thing feels like a very complicated version of “Do you like me? Circle YES or NO.” In a simpler world,  I could just gather shiny things and place them at your feet or something and then you would give me some indicative gesture and I’d know it was cool to ask you to watch bad movies with me and shout funny things at the tv.

Well, I am writing you because you seem very bright, sweet, lovely, funny and full of sassafras. So I thought I would introduce myself, share a bit about me, and maybe learn a bit more about you.

I want a puppy too!

When I am having a bad day I imagine getting a pug and naming him something very regal like Lord Sinclair Bengalstorm III. I could also name him something really dumb like FattyShitPants McWonkyEyes. That could be enjoyable. Or I could name him Govnah and everyday before we leave the house I could turn to him and say, “‘Ello Govnah, are your affairs in order?” in a cockney accent. When I feed him I can shout, “Bangers and mash!” even though it’ll just be dog food. Also statistically, Pugs prefer the Wu Tang Clan more than any other breed. That’s a quality I can get behind.
I saw that you listed Up! as one of your favorite movies.

I really liked Up, but I spent the majority of the movie trying to digest the existential crisis it triggered. I think the point the movie tries to make is that as long as you are alive you are able to give and receive love. And that love can help someone else grow and heal and, in turn, it can help you grow and heal. BUUUT, what the fuck? I couldn’t move on from the wife’s death. I felt so sad for him and, moreover, for all of us who are bound to find someone who we love so fiercely and then lose them to the icy grips of death. Fuck that movie for reminding me of my inevitable death and/or the inevitable death of everyone I love. All entertainment is supposed to distract me from pondering the transient nature of life.
I also don’t care for sea creatures.

Ever since those narwhals raped my parents. Okay, that never happened. It was consensual. I just wanted to demonstrate parallel values.

I went whale watching once. I learned that my love of the sea is best experienced with my feet planted on the shore. I also learned, to my surprise, that I can be totally gay for dolphins. I did not suspect that about myself. Like a pod of 800 were jumping and playing all around our boat. I couldn’t stop smiling about it for weeks. Luckily I didn’t make any rash tattoo decisions. Eventually, my inner curmudgeon kicked in and I stopped wearing pastel shirts with dolphins airbrushed all over them.

Hmm…what other things should you know about me?

  • My life’s work is writing Total Recall the Musical.
  • Everyday when I get home from work I pat the hood of my truck and say, “That’ll do truck, that’ll do.”
  • I amuse myself by sometimes accusing objects of being “Roswell technology.”
  • I like to make outrageous claims while at work. Such as, “I am the Tupac Shakur of this office!” or “I am the Mark Twain of fax machine based insults.”
  • If I am publicly eating a banana I break it down into smaller, less penis like pieces.
  • Once a stranger accidentally texted me and asked, “What are we supposed to wear tonight?” I wrote back, “I think they said dress as pirates.”
  • I like to post made up quotes as my Facebook status. ex: “I constantly thirst for knowledge and pussy.” – Albert Einstein

I don’t want to give you too much to read.  But I am actually a pretty nice fella. You should drop me a line sometime if you’d like to talk.

– Mugsy

My first OKC letter


This girl mentioned her arachnophobia several times in her profile and on the last portion of her page, under the section titled You Should Message Me If…, she wrote, “You have a vendetta against spiders.”

I wrote her this message:



My name is Mugsy. I am just getting into using this site. Wandering around looking for cool people to talk to.

I don’t have a vendetta against spiders. I am horrified by some of them and consider their passage through my home a gamble they took with their lives.

But I am also grateful. I am grateful that they are silent, life would be so much worse if they clicked or hissed or worse yet, giggled like a baby. Imagine what a nightmare it would be to see a black mass hiding in the shadowed corner of your ceiling, you tilt the lamp to it and a large spider takes off down the wall behind your couch, all the while giggling like a newborn baby. And, like, way louder than you’d think possible. The very idea creeps me the fuck out.

I am glad they don’t smell very badly, because there is pretty much always one around somewhere and they aren’t always easy to find. It would be terrible if they smelled like decay and death or something.

I am extremely grateful that they don’t fly. That would be horrible. It’s bad enough that at any moment one could comfortably zip-line down from the ceiling towards your face.

Sometimes I accidentally walk through a web and it gets all over my face and mouth and beard. At a distance of more than ten feet away it probably looks like I am fighting off an invisible attack. And that’s exactly what it is. Life would be so much worse if they made an unbreakable gossamer that left me helpless. But at least I am large and lumbering enough to pass right through their cleverly laid traps. They are like very, very tiny Vietcong.
Most of all I am glad that even large ones are still relatively small. Nothing I can’t kill with a boot. If I found myself face to face with a 200lb spider (and I didn’t have a shield and an axe) I would be fucked.

As I said, I don’t have a vendetta against spiders. That word is too powerful. It makes me think of Charles Bronson in Death Wish 3. Spiders haven’t raped and killed my family or anything. But I am grossed out by them. I don’t want to deal with anything that has more than seven eyes. But it sounds like you are more frightened of them than I am. So if one of your requirements in a man is that he can comfortably kill spiders then I think I qualify. I’ll kill the shit out of them. I’ll kill spiders so savagely UNICEF will try to intervene and typically they only handle international children’s rights. They’ll send me letters saying, “Hey Mugsy, enough is enough.”

That’s what I’m bringing to the table.

– Mugsy


In hindsight I think sending this message to someone with any kind of genuine arachnophobia would just be an act of cruelty. I introduced so many traumatic images and notions. It didn’t even occur to me at the time of writing it that this was probably the last subject she’d like someone to write about so extensively. Ways that spiders could be more awful. Oh yea, she’ll be ovulating after reading this. I am retarded.

Oh and you guessed it, she never wrote me back. She probably never went online ever again. The only thing I could have done to worsen it would have been to change my OKC profile picture to this:

Now that I’ve completely spoiled any chance of making out with her while listening to the Invisible Touch album by Genesis I should just create a new profile where I pose as an actual wolf spider, fill out my profile accordingly, and just send her mean spirited messages about her hate-speak against spiderkind. Yea, that’s what a normal person would do.


– mugsy

Enter the Mugsy


Why am I here?

One night, I decided to read Sarah letters I had been writing to women on (the online dating site) OkCupid.  She laughed a lot.  Perhaps more than I would have liked.  You see, the problem is there’s no suggested way to compose these messages, no template, no standard, and no examples.  And often when left to my own devices, I do something that I think is creative and wonderful but outside perspective just confirms that it’s abnormal and awkward.

I am going to share the letters I write.  I’m thinking I am just going to post them exactly as I sent them.  Meaning, they’ll include not just the funny, weird bits but probably also the genuine, sweet, vulnerable chunks. I think that’s probably the best way of going about it.

Things to keep in mind when reading them:

  • these are being sent to a total stranger
  • I want this stranger to like me, possibly one day love like me even more
  • I am genuinely trying to meet someone, this isn’t a social experiment or something

I think that’s all the introduction you’ll need.  I’ll explain anything specific to the site (OkCupid) as it comes up. I don’t know if I’ll also write about the people I meet, dates I go on, and other such events in the world of online dating but I’m sure I’ll be tempted to. Also, if I write something you think is amazing feel free to use it yourself.  I don’t care.  But you’ll probably end up dying alone.

Hope you enjoy my shortcomings.


life is ruining my life…


Life sucks; sometimes, under weird delusions, I sometimes think that I’m caught in some strange minority of life-suckage, where I notice all the things that other people have that I, probably for health reasons, which lead to being broke and not being able to work reasons, which lead to being an unwanted outcast of society, can not attain; and get angry at how easy it is for them to take these things for granted (just to set the record straight, just because I am writing this, doesn’t mean I will stop doing it). Even when these retarded (oooh wah, she said retarded, we should complain about that, oh wait, maybe we should look up the god damned word, oh silly us) view points take over my worm-laden brain for three seconds at a time, I still feel some sick amount of loathing that makes me never have that “god I wish I could be so and so for a day” feeling, ever, not ever. No matter who you are, how rich, healthy, and stupidly ignorant you are to how great you have it compared to most of society, I never, ever, not ever, wanted to be you instead of me. Why? Well, not because of some holier than thou reasons (I don’t believe in luck, so why would I believe in “holy”), but because no matter who you are, how bad or good you have it, you’re still a miserable fuck. And if I was you, I’d most likely be weeping about people like me, by throwing pennies in a donation tray, skipping out of church on sunday, and fucking my secretary before buying roses at the gas station to bring to my wife on the way home from work. Then complaining to her about how bad my boss treats me and how the guy at the car dealership totally fucked me over on the package with the leather heated seats and wah wah sniffle. The point is, it doesn’t matter who you are, your life both equally sucks and doesn’t, just depending on who you’re standing next to.

There’s a lot of people that can stand next to me and feel pretty god damned good about themselves; say things like “WELP, I was having one shitty fucking day, but fuck, at least I can walk straight, look at this stupid fucking gimp next to me, she has worms eating her heart, she’ll be dead before she hits thirty-five if my self esteem has anything to say about it”. And, for the most part, they’ll likely be right, and good for them, they win a coupon for twenty percent off their next purchase of stemware at Macy’s. I, on the other hand, can either look back at the dick standing next to me, and pick apart each layer of his carefully laid out life, piece by piece, talk about how lucky he should feel, but never will, for more than the time it takes to drop a quarter in the coffee can with the picture of the kid with cancer on it sitting on the counter at his local liquor store, where he went to pick up a “nice red wine to go with dinner”, or drop a tear in the bucket and cry because in some form or another, that kid is essentially me, minus the cancer, but plus the parasites, do the best I can, and just say motherfuckit.

At this point you are one of two kinds of people; one is the person that says “she is feeling sorry for herself”, or the other, “things are the way they are, that’s life, and that’s what she’s saying”, one of these is correct, but only some of you assholes realize this, so there’s no point in telling you which one is right. Anyway, the point is, life sucks, no matter who you are, it’s the human condition to think life sucks, it’s almost ingrained in our dna to think everyone everywhere has it better, and it takes a keen eye to realize that is total bullshit, as it is really only by comparison that we feel any sense of what is better or worse than anything else; which means if you’re the guy with the perfect car, wife, teeth, house, and mistress, you’re most likely upset about that raise you didn’t get, but then, after a pregnancy scare, you feel like the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet when secretary calls to tell you that the kid couldn’t possibly be yours, you guys didn’t fuck two months ago and she is six weeks pregnant, score one for you, score who the fuck knows for life (of course in the end, life can totally turn around and rape you in the face when you find out secretary left her syphilis on your doorstep, banged on the door, and ran like a bitch in heat).

So, no matter how bad you have it, and I assure you, no matter who you are, when you’re going to die, or how, you probably have it pretty fucking terrible, and simultaneously possibly decently okay, just stop taking shit so seriously all the time. For the most part shit is boring or chaotic only based on our reaction to it, so just say ‘FUCK IT’, to everything and life will become one long, straight line on a heart monitor. No need to cry, worry, or moan because you stubbed your toe, or the waiter never came back to ask if you’d like dessert, he just brought you a check and now you feel fat for even considering insisting on seeing the dessert menu, and the only people that you think care are the ones reading your facebook status so better keep them updated because you know they will tell you how totally hot you are and oh my god, have you noticed the weather, it’s so exactly the type of weather it should be for where you live and what month it is, you should complain about how you wish it was some other weather in some other month and don’t cry yet you didn’t even get to the part about how your car got stuck in traffic on a work day, during rush hour on a busy road where traffic fucking happens all the time, what a totally normal life you lead, holy shit, you just noticed you live an average life, does that mean you’re not a special snowflake, well fuck, mid-life crisis time, better stop talking to the few friends that actually treat you well, buy a journal made of recycled paper from the book store and start writing down all your interesting thoughts you don’t want anyone to read.

Do something interesting for once in your god damned life; go double up on the condoms and fuck a hooker; or invite all your friends and their prescriptions over and go bobbing for capsules. Maybe that isn’t interesting to you, maybe that’s just a terrible sin and a huge waste of time; once again, it’s all about perspective. Maybe being stuck in traffic is interesting to me because I only leave my house to have my veins tapped or be bitched at by nurses. I don’t know, just shut the fuck up about the same shit that everyone else is saying all the time, it’s like there’s some giant rubber stamp fucking stamping people out en masse, and the only decision you made was what little speech bubble sticker to adhere next to your gaping face hole.

And yeah, yeah, don’t worry, tomorrow I’ll be fantasizing about shooting my brains out under my bed and listening to depressing music just like you want me to be, just to keep shit in order, and everyone stays secure in the roles they have constructed in their heads and gotten all snuggily and comfortable in.

Also, maybe you could try not being dicks who are constantly shitty to each other; might help (she is SUCH a hypocrite). Cheers!

A pretty awesome girl I knew died a couple weeks ago, and even though I can’t say I knew her very well, I think she would have found the humor in this. For the small amount of time and conversations I did have with her, I have to say, she was a pretty strong girl (not something I say about many people) who never failed to leave an impression. So here’s to you, Rhapsody, I didn’t know you very well, but you were one hell of an awesome chick.

Happy Life Day, Everyone!!!


And once again I post the merriest of Spookymeat traditions, which is to post the greatest made for tv movie of all time, so sit back and enjoy the Star Wars Holiday Special; and celebrate Life Day with Chewy and his family.  Awe, don’t you love being a Pagan?  I sure as fuck do. And yes, I know I’ve always posted the full movie before, and not cut into parts, but apparently this year wordpress is too good to give us what we want on our favorite wookiee holiday. Well fuck you, we’re watching it in parts, wordpress, go fuck yourself.

And to every one else out there, please remember to keep the CHRIST in Christmas (Jews, I’m lookin’ at you)!

Spookymeat wants to know…


If a clone of yourself, identical in every way, including personality, suddenly appeared sitting right next to you, would you have sex with yourself?

(after you stopped being all fucked up from the fact that it couldn’t be possible for that to occur, just deal with it, alright!!!)

If yes, explain why, please.

If no, explain why not.

Do your homework, kids.  DO IT!


send your pictures of the octopus (seen below) with sunglasses to this address, jerks!

(also, please respond in the comments here, and not on facebook)

Did you know the plural of vagina is vaginae? Pretty fucking amazing, I suggest you use it as soon as possible!

I can’t wait for one of you mother fuckers to shut me up.


I hate when people tell you something is “their motto in life”, or that something is “their middle name”, or want to know if you are kidding them, because they were “born to [fill in the blank]”. I don’t know where these terrible things start, but I think it was probably some obscure movie from the 80’s that everyone forgot existed, but now haunts our already tarnished ability to speak words rightly.

It’s always said in such a way as to signify that the person vomiting these stupid words from their slimy face holes has the situation completely under control, and if there is just one thing in this entire stinking cesspool of a planet they know a PhD’s load of crap about, it’s the exact situation you are talking about/do not require assistance with/are currently involved in at that precise moment. I fucking LOVE these people.

I also notice something similar on peoples’ personal profiles. Like “music is my life”, I fucking HATE when I see this written, mostly on teenagers’ profiles. Music is not your life, maybe listening to music takes up a good portion of your life, but fuck, we’re not talking about time you were sacrificing away from an otherwise productive and world-changing existence. We’re talking about time you’d have spent lying on your shower floor in your bathrobe crying to Smashing Pumpkins as your mascara runs down the drain. What the fuck was the first point I was even making?

Oh yeah, the whole pretending you are an expert at shit, when you’re clearly marginal, at best. Listen, just because you SAY you can take care of something, because, fuck, your middle name is “the guy that can glue your finger back on”, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t promptly go to the hospital after you’ve lost a bet regarding a bic lighter and a huge ass knife (I’m looking at you, Four Rooms, OH YEAH). I don’t give a shit if your middle name was Jesus and your face was glowing, it doesn’t mean your crabs will give people the power to walk across the ocean because you nailed them (to a cross) GET IT!?!?! HO yeahhhhhh…. too soon? Sorry, guys, I should be more sensitive what with little god jr.’s birthday coming and all. Either way, saying something like “trust me, I was BORN to cure genital tumors”, doesn’t make you sound credible, it makes you sound like you’re into junk with tumors on them.

Same thing with people that say, “WELP, it’s like I always say…” and then they something they never fucking say, ever, and you’ve known this mother fucker for like, at least three quarters of your life; so you know they are clearly making false claims out of their giant talking vaginas. You get in a car accident, everything is ruined, you have no money; your “friend” comes, and tries to calm you by throwing in one of those “WELP, it’s like I always say, the most fucked up shit ever, happens to the people we love the most, and every time a priest has an orgasm, an angel gets its chastity belt key, and …” Yeah, dude, I stopped listening to you before you even got here, fucking shut up. All of you, everything, just shut up shut up shut up. You aren’t helping, none of you are. You’re talking, there’s a big, fat, fucking orca whale of a difference between talking and helping. Go eat some fuck.

draw sunglasses on my octopus, please and thank you.
I shall post all beautiful and wonderful works of art.

my brain is swollen, this is the result, I hope it made you feel all slippery and
ready to explode with sticky apple sauce-like goodness that warms your heart
and kills your favorite librarian.

and even more ps’s … new writer coming soon, you will all embrace him with your amazing skills of friendship and archery.

that’s all I got.

and a chair made of cheese… and a table made of cheese… and a chair made of cheese… and a table made of cheese…

…and and and