The Absolutely, Least Appropriate, Worst Idea for a Stripper to Invite to a Bachelor Party…Ever…No Kidding.

 

  At this point it should be obvious that I have an unusual sense of humor. I am offensive and inappropriate, and I accept that. However, sometimes I surprise even myself with the depth of depravity of which I am capable. This is one such story. Anyone who wasn’t at the event chronicled here, will find this story hilarious…those who were there still don’t have a sense of humor in regards to the event. Some still refuse to speak to me, even though this occurred 12 years ago. I can’t wait to hear reader feedback on this one.

  The events in this story occurred as part of a bachelor party. I was Best Man, and being such, was in charge of throwing the party together. We had rented a suite at one of Nashville’s finest hotels already, but I still had to book entertainment. I had left several messages with various strippers around town, and was shopping for various items for the party while I waited to hear from them. One such item I was out to get was a big-ass dildo. No bachelor party is complete without a big-ass dildo. Now, I don’t mean just any big-ass dildo, I’m talking about a two foot long, five pound dildo named The Dark Assassin. This big, black dildo was to be attached to the hood of the groom’s truck using the integrated suction cup located on the rear of the device (who comes up with this shit?). Upon arriving at the local sex store, I was shocked to find that the store was a pervert’s paradise, with lots of private (?) jack-off booths, a theater, and live peep shows. While shopping for the big-ass dildo, I was approached by one of the hottest blondes I had ever seen. She tried to convince me to rent time to watch her in the live peepshow booth. I advised her that although she was lovely, I was in a hurry and was just there for the dildo. Upon hearing this, she advised that was more reason for me to see her show, as we were kindred spirits. I was momentarily confused until she advised me that she was the She-Male attraction. I quickly explained that the dildo was for a gag, not for my use, as it was impossible for anyone to use a dildo that large without gutting themselves and dying. The She-Male ( who will be referred to as She-It for the remainder of this text), advised that She-It had many friends who used that size dildo, and then apologized for approaching me, as I was straight. I then became curious, as to how truly feminine She-It was, and asked how She-It had achieved the feat. She-It was proud to state that her boobs were real 36 C’s, which had been accomplished through years of hormones, and that she had had her adams apple shaved through a surgical procedure. As for the feminine hands and feet…She-It advised that it was just genetic luck. Once I recovered from the fact that one of the hottest chicks I had ever seen, was in fact a dude, a plan began to take shape in the back of my mind. The plan was sick, twisted, tasteless, and all around hilarious. I explained to She-It about the bachelor party, and my idea for the practical joke. She-It advised that if I could protect her from harm, and provide additional Danger-Pay, she-it would do the party. We finalized the plan, and I was off.

  Now understand that this was not the first time I had played a stripper joke on friends. I remember a previous event in which I was charged with providing a stripper, and on that occasion I hired an eight month pregnant stripper. That had been funny as hell, but nothing was going to compare with what I had in store. The most difficult part was in not being able to tell anyone about the trick. In retrospect, I should have bounced the idea off someone else, as I had no idea how negative the reaction was going to be.

  The night of the Bachelor Party came, and we all started out at our favorite bar. We then moved to the hotel, where the stripper was to perform for us before we continued the night of bar-hopping. There were around 20 guys present, all excited to see the night’s entertainment. The groom was hand cuffed and leg-shackled to a sturdy chair, with dollar bills protruding from every article of clothing. As per the stripper’s instructions, all the other men were seated to the front of the Groom. The music began and the stripper entered. She-It was so attractive that I momentarily forgot it was a dude…sort of. It then occurred to me that if I was this conflicted about this event, the other guys might not be very happy. I knew the Groom was going to be pissed when it was over, but up until this point I had not considered the twenty or so other guys…and they weren’t chained up. I began to re-think the joke, but of course, it was far too late to turn back. I had to hope they had a sense of humor. (SPOILER ALERT: They didn’t.) It was apparent that the stripper was so convincing that no one had a clue that She-It wasn’t what she seemed. The guests were tipping heavily, grabbing boobs and ass, all the while propositioning She-It. This continued for three songs and finally, the stripper was down to only a G-String. The men began to chant, “Take It Off…Take It Off!” She-It faced the Groom with her back to the crowd and slowly began to pull down the G-String. I moved closer to the door and grabbed the strippers robe and belongings, preparing for the hasty exit we had planned. When the G-String came off, no one except for the Groom could see what was happening. All the men present were talking about what a great ass the stripper had, as the Groom’s eyes switched from a look of wonder and anticipation, to a look of revulsion and confusion. With a flip of her hair, the stripper then turned to the crowd. All present were presented with a big ass schlong, that I still cannot believe could have been hidden so well. All noise stopped immediately and the look on their face was one of total shock. It looked as if they had just watched someone come in the room and strangle a puppy in front of them. The Groom, who had seen it first, and had already had time to recover from the initial shock, began jerking around and attempting to free himself. He was cursing me so loudly and violently that I’m pretty sure he created some new words that night. I opened the door and the stripper made a hasty exit, along with a couple hundred bucks in tips from the shocked-out crowd. I was laughing so hard that I couldn’t breathe or see. That did not work to my favor, as the entire room proceeded to try and kick my ass. Apparently, I had given them too much credit in regards to a sense of humor. As far as this incident was concerned, they had no sense of humor. Once free, the Groom tried to hit me with a chair, and I was made to leave the party.

  A month or so later, the Groom called and advised that he no longer wanted to kill me, but would never forgive me for the incident. He advised that on a funny note, when the pictures had been developed, one photo in particular stood out. The photo was taken just as the stripper had turned to face the audience, and in it the strippers Johnson was caught in mid-air by the camera. The Johnson lined up perfectly with the open mouth of one of our buddies in the background, so that it appeared as if he was preparing to choke it down. The Groom advised that he had already gotten lots of mileage from that pic, and that the other guy was now hating me even more. All in all, I suppose things worked out. I lost a few friends, but gained a great story. I suppose some people just don’t have a sense of humor.

More Hating on Lady Gaga

Last night I had the misfortune of my television being tuned in to the E! Network while I was working around the house. E! News came on and announced the world premiere of the new Lady Gaga video, because apparently, this is big earth shattering news or something. Anyway, I actually decided to view this monstrosity for two reasons: (1) I was busy ironing and didn't want to stop to look for a remote, and (2) As I have said before, I can't help but enjoy train wrecks. So, I watched in morbid fascination.

  A few observations. Lady Gaga is an ugly, no-talent bitch. I think watching the video lowered my IQ by about 30 points. I'm not sure why, but I find her extremely unattractive. She has an OK body, but I can't stand to look at her...even scantily  dressed. That's how you know shit is messed up, when yours truly dislikes something so much, that not even nearly naked women can convince me to watch something. The video also had Beyonce, lesbo action, and Tarantino movie references...and I still couldn't fucking stand it. Let's be clear: Beyonce is one of the hottest women around, I love lesbian loving, and I have been a Tarantino fan before anyone heard of him...and Lady Gaga made me hate them by association.

  This no-talent hack must be stopped. Who buys her albums or listens to this shit? Her music sounds like some old left over music that was found in an Eastern European disco circa 1985. She can't sing without Auto-Tune, and she is butt-fucking ugly to boot. Oh yeah, and she dresses like a bag lady from outer space. What ever happened to talent? What is wrong with performers with style, class, and talent? There is no point to this post. There is no in-depth writing to be done on this topic. There is really no way to end this post. I just really, really, really, really, fucking hate Lady Gaga and everything associated with her. I hate music today because of no-talent mother fuckers like her. I hate that I have had to stop listening to the radio because all the new artists piss me off. And all I have to say in closing is: Fuck Miley Cyrus, too! Just wanted to throw that in there cause I'm tired of seeing her everywhere, also. Thanks. I feel better now.

The Night of the Midget

After the clown article I received a lot of email. Note the comment section remained blank, because no one wanted to be even remotely associated with the article. No one admitted to reading it, but I did receive email. Most of the email made mention of the fact that something was wrong with me. Some recommended psychiatrists by name. Many people were freaked out, but all were entertained. Those who know me have just come to expect unusual things and just sort of overlook the oddities. Despite what you might think about me, even I have my limits. This article is about an incident that disturbed me and pushed me to that limit.

The incident in question is now known infamously as, “The Night of the Midget”, or “The Bridget Incident”. My Facebook friends might recall periodic references to midgets posted on my wall by some of my friends. Those references are all because of this night.

A little background is necessary to understand how this night came into being. It all started with my frequent kidding around involving having sex with a midget. I had no particular interest in banging a midget, but the idea was so funny that it became a running joke that lasted for years. Once, I was in a bar with a buddy when a group of girls, including a midget chick, came in. They sat at the other end of the bar, and I began telling my buddy how I was going to hook up with her. He became so uncomfortable he started ordering doubles. Shortly thereafter, as he was returning from the bathroom, I noticed the bartender serving her a fresh drink. I told my buddy that I had sent her a drink and was about to make my move. He tried to walk out, and I had to convince him that I was kidding to keep him in the bar. Basically, midgets freak people out. The thought of sexing one down is beyond what most people can bear. My father in law is so scared of midgets that when he found out a midget started cutting hair at the local barbershop, he quit going out of fear of being touched by “creepy little midget fingers”. So, my jokes about fucking midgets were the perfect way to make people uncomfortable. However, the downside to joking about doing the deal with a midget for years is that it also made me de-sensitized to the “creepy factor” of boning a midget. As much as I was loathe to admit it, a part of me actually entertained the thought of getting down with a wee-midget girl. Maybe a pair of female, bi-sexual, midget wrestlers dressed like clowns would be the best sex ever. Ok…not really…I just threw that in to creep out anyone who wasn’t already sufficiently uncomfortable.

One day, around my birthday, a group of my friends produced a newspaper clipping of an advertisement stating that the famous (?) midget porn actress, Bridget the Midget, was going to be performing at a local strip club. They all advised that they were taking me as a birthday gift. I was excited, as I saw the potential for future jokes, and the trip was planned. On the night of the performance, about 18 of us rolled up in the strip club. We were a strange looking group, as there were many couples among us. We took our reserved seats right by the stage and waited eagerly. Now, let me say this, I had joked about banging a midget for so long that I had actually considered doing it. I mean, it sounded like a cool thing if the midget chick was cute, and besides…how bad could it be, right? Any thought of actually doing something like that totally went out of my mind once she appeared on stage and started dancing. The proportions of her body made it impossible for her to dance with rhythm. The dance she performed looked identical to the dance done by the gopher in Caddyshack. She wore a cheap pair of children’s dress up high heels with rainbow leg warmers…leg warmers? Seriously, what the fuck? As she began to gyrate around the stage, my bravado faded, and suddenly I felt ashamed and uncomfortable as hell. But what really ratcheted up the creepy, perversion factor were my fellow patrons. I had a group of bikers beside us that couldn’t get enough and kept yelling compliments, and stating how turned on they were. At this moment, I realized that these dudes would probably fuck little kids if given the opportunity. No one gets that turned on by a midget otherwise. Perhaps they had not yet realized they were potential pedophiles, but the day was coming. Anyway, back to our crowd…all of us were standing around, mouths agape, hating ourselves for being there. All of us, that is, except for our buddy’s wife who was making out with a stripper on a nearby table. None of us realized that she had those tendencies prior to walking in the club, but she definitely earned cool points in my book. No one likes to watch two girls make out more than me. Unfortunately, I was too disturbed by the midget show to get excited.

Just when I thought that there was no way for me to be more uncomfortable, one of the nearby bikers asked her why she had danced that long and not taken off her G
-String? To which she laughed and replied, “I wish I could, baby. But I’m on the rag;” She punctuated this by pulling the crotch of her G-String aside and flashing a tampon string. This occurred at the same time that the music paused, and her comment carried throughout the club. My friends and I looked at one another in complete horror and disgust. We all simultaneously headed for the exit, as if on cue.

I consider this incident a defining moment in my life, for through this I learned to be careful what I joked about. To this day I have never again made a midget-fucking joke. Never will. Those images are forever burned in my psyche. My innocence is lost. The world is a darker place because of the knowledge I possess. If you think it sounds creepy, you should have been there. As I’ve said before: I have been around the world a time and a half, I’ve been to three county fairs and a goat fucking…I’ve seen it all, and damn near done it all, and this was one of the most unsettling situations I have ever been involved in…including that Donkey Show in Central America (that’s another story for another day). In closing, if you ever are offered the chance to participate in similar experiences…RUN!

Another Year Older...

I turned another year older today. Today, like every year on my birthday, I reflected upon my life. I like to see if I am making progress year after year. Trust me, its important to check these things, because I've had some years in which I have lost ground. As I have said many times before, 99.9% of everything you will read here is comedy and bullshit. This article is in the .1%, as I will actually be serious...well, as serious as I get, anyway. So, lets look at what I came up with.

I looked in the mirror this morning, and saw a few more wrinkles, but not as many as other men my age. I noticed that I still have no gray hair(a miracle), but that my forehead did get a little bigger. The downside to having your forehead grow, is that it makes it look like you have lost some hair. I am happy that I got the weight off, and have kept it off. Physically, I feel as good as ever. I'm not the perfect specimen of a man, but I am content in knowing that I could be in worse shape. I still ride the mountain bike a few times a week when the weather permits, and will be doing a 12 hour cross country endurance ride in May.I might actually feel better than when I was in my twenties, but that's not saying much since I spent the majority of my twenties drunk and in bars. The thing I noticed most was my eyes. I don't mean the wrinkles around them, but rather the look in my eyes. Over the years, I have seen a lot, both good and bad. The eyes, it is said, are the window to the soul. I look in my own eyes and see the eyes of someone who has known both joy and tragedy. They reflect both my accomplishments and the mistakes of my past, while shining with hope and fear for the future. I look at my hands and find scars and joints that were broken and left to heal improperly. Most of those remind me of my years as a soldier and cop...of countless battles, street fights and training exercises. I see the burn scar on the back of my hand that I received as a soldier, it was caused by having a hot gun barrel placed on my hand as a reminder not to drop my weapon. I never dropped my weapon again, neither in training or in combat.One whole finger is without feeling due to permanent nerve damage sustained when I managed to temporarily remove the finger while building my house. I got to keep the finger, but not the feeling. That is my souvenir to remind me that I built the home for my children with my own hands. I am proud of that. I see all the other scars, each with its own story.Its strange that the same hands used to make war and cause death, have also been used to save lives and cradle my sons when they came into the world. I like to think I have used my hands more for life than death. I scan the rest of my body for scars and tattoos. Each one is a memento that reminds me of an event. It is winter, so I feel all the previously broken bones. But they actually hurt less each year. All in all, i would say I'm pretty lucky in the physical sense.

I then reflect on my life and accomplishments. I am not rich, but I'm also not as poor as I once was. I am happy that my children do not know what it feels like to be ashamed of where they live, and that they have never went to bed hungry. I am also glad that I can dress them nicely and give them a good home. I am grateful for my understanding wife, loving family, and loyal friends. I am grateful to have a good job and a good boss at a time when so many people are out of work. I have had an unusual life and many experiences. Those experiences, both good and bad, have forged my personality. I have known the thrill of success and the bitter sorrow of failure. I have seen times with much money, and I have been completely destitute. The most important thing is that I have learned from all the experiences and they have made me the person I am today. I will never take anything in this life for granted regardless of how successful I become, nor will I give up when I am at my lowest. Because I believe that as long as you are alive, you have a chance at greatness. That is the lesson learned from failure. My opportunity to become great is not over until they put me in the grave. Being successful has no age limit, and you can reach your goals at any age. I see areas in which I need to improve my life, but overall, I like who I am. I am pleased that I have begun to come into my own. I am no longer the shy, frightened child, the angry and reckless teen, or the young man full of self-doubt trying to find his way. I am a man, and I know what I stand for...and I like what I have become.

This year, I have improved. I will take the lessons learned in the past and use them to teach and guide my children, as well as to continue improving upon myself. I will leave them a legacy, perhaps not of money, but a legacy consisting of a greater wealth. The wealth of character. I have told my sons that I do not care if they become wealthy or successful,so long as they grow up to be good men. If they manage that, then I have done my job, and I will be proud of them. I am a fortunate and happy man. I survived another year and I continue to learn and improve. I hope that I have another good year.

The Unfortunate Twilight of Hugh Hefner

  I have said many times that I hate reality television, and that I refuse to watch it. The other night, as I was surfing channels, I came across a Girls Next Door marathon on E! Television. Now, personally, I feel that the E! Network is an instrument of evil designed to suck what little is left of the collective intelligence right out of the American public. But, as I have stated many times in the past…I can’t help but watch a good train wreck. I settled in to catch up with the present day happenings in the life of an American icon, and my personal hero since I was 11 years old, Hugh Hefner.

  Before going into what I think of the show, and the present day status of Mr. Hefner, it is important that I provide a little background on my connection with, and love of Hugh Hefner, as well as Playboy as an institution. I was first introduced to Playboy as most young boys in my generation were: they were the magazines hidden in either my Dad’s  or Grandpa’s toolbox. I remember the thrill of viewing my first Playboy at 11 years old. It wasn’t just the pictures; it was getting to look at the articles showing the fabulous life of Playboy’s founder. It was a window into an amazing world of women, cars, mansions, celebrities, and insane parties. It made me want to be a man of the world when I got older. It inspired me to start watching the clothes I wore, and to stop ignoring the girls that I had previously dismissed as “Gross” only a short time earlier. Playboy changed my life. Oh yeah…the pictures were good too. Don’t get me wrong, my uncle had a collection of Penthouse and Hustler that were more engaging and graphic, but Playboy was more than just dirty pictures, it was a way of life.

  Now, having said all that, imagine my surprise when watching The Girls Next Door. I was shocked by the old, feeble appearance of Hugh Hefner. Hef just sort of hobbled around, hoping to still appear virile and relevant. I love Hef and have nothing but respect for the man…but damn…there is something to be said for going out with a bang, as opposed to fading away. I’m not saying poor Hef needs to die in a spectacular fashion, but if he is going to fade away, he should do so privately. Hef no longer swaggers around like the main Dick-Daddy-Cock-of-the-Walk…now he totters around like a semi-senile old codger who is doting on his grand daughters. The show hints at the fact that Hef is still getting busy with these three women, but does anyone really believe that? Even one of these chicks would give him a coronary or make him throw out a hip. I don’t think Hef could even get it up anymore without splinting his schlong with Popsicle sticks and taking a truckload of Viagra. He would have to use a stunt-double just for foreplay. I’m just saying that there is a certain quiet dignity in old age. The respect you get for having survived everything that life has thrown at you. Hef is exhibiting very little dignity in his age. Don’t get me wrong, I believe you are only as young as you feel, and that one should stay young. However, there is a point when shit gets ridiculous, and that’s the territory Hef is treading in. I mean at a certain point, it’s not cool to go after younger women. It’s kind of like being the old guy in the club. If you are over 35 (and being over 30 is pushing it) you have no fucking business in a dance club…none. You don’t look cool, you look pathetic. Regardless of how young at heart you feel…you still look too old to be trying to party with college co-eds. The exception to this is if you are Leonardo DiCaprio or Johnny Depp, they can pull that shit off. But if you work second shift at the plant, and coach little league, chances are the dance club is not the place to go on guys night out. It’s the same with Hef, he kicks ass and all, but at a certain age it’s just gross to be getting down with 20 year old girls. Christ, I’m almost 40, which isn’t old, but I know that I have no business hooking up with a 20 year old. I would feel like a sexual predator hooking up with a chick that young, and what would we talk about? The new Lady Gaga album? I’m not even sure what a fucking “Lady Gaga” is…and I damn sure don’t give a fuck about hearing her music.

  This, of course, brings me to the “Girls”. Where do I start? I will say this: the three new girls actually make the three original girls look intelligent. I never thought that I would ever, ever, ever not be able to look at pretty girls that were scantily dressed. These bitches are so dumb and painful to watch that I feel no attraction to them. These bitches are dumb as a bag of hammers. Don’t get me wrong folks, I have dated some dumb bitches in my life, and there is something to be said for dating a chick that you can use the “Jedi Mind Trick” on, but this bunch is too over the top. I get embarrassed for them while watching. Part of me hopes that it’s an act to make the show entertaining, but I know that’s not the case. I can’t believe these girls haven’t accidentally killed themselves by drinking poison, drowning in the tub, or walking in front of a bus. How can anyone be this fucking stupid? I’ll bet the very existence of these bitches really pisses off all the intelligent educated women out there. Imagine you’re a woman who has worked her ass off by working full time to get through college and grad school. Then you end up waiting tables due to the job market. You come home after pulling a double, turn on the TV…and see the Girls Next Door. The Girls Next Door are making millions doing modeling and making TV deals, not because they are smart, or have worked hard, but because they took their clothes off…and can suck a marble through six feet of concrete. On a daily basis, the hardest decisions these girls are confronted with is: what color to dye their fucking poodle, or whether to spit, swallow, or gargle. I hate these chicks and I’m a guy. I can only imagine the hatred women feel for them. I also wonder how the parents of these girls handle their chosen career path. Each season, there is always one show that has parents making an appearance, and the parents always say they are proud of the girls? Really? You’re proud your daughter because she is a hooker? Cause that’s what she is. How could you be proud your daughter because she gets naked and sucks on Hef’s old, mummified johnson? What the fuck has society come to. Probably the most shocking thing is that even a low-life like me sees all this as improper. I mean, for even me to be shocked at these people and their actions speak volumes about their character.

  In the end, I guess I have to look at all the good things Playboy and Hugh Hefner have given me. I choose to remember the Hef I knew as a boy. I must forget about the present and focus on the proud past of Playboy. As a testament to the timeless ideology that is Playboy, I give you this story: My oldest son, aged 10, came into the room during an episode of E!’s True Hollywood Story that featured Hugh Hefner, and asked who Hugh Hefner was. I briefly explained and we watched the story of Hef. After the episode was over, my son looked at me and asked, “ Dad…you mean you can take pictures of girls naked, and get rich? Really? That’s the best scam ever!” This was followed by a devious laugh that shook my son’s entire body. In his eyes I saw a glimmer that had not been there previously, and at that moment I realized that Hef had inspired yet another generation of young men. God Bless you Hef.

Talentless Celebrities

  As I was riding in my car yesterday, scanning radio stations I came across a pop station playing some new music. It had this whining computerized sound that I recognized immediately to be the result of the artist (I use this term only to generically describe the source of the music, as there are no artists left in the music industry...which I will get into in a few) using an Auto-Tune Machine. For those of you not familiar with the device, wikipedia describes it as this: It is used to disguise off-key inaccuracies and mistakes, and has allowed singers to perform perfectly tuned vocal tracks without the need of singing in tune. Basically, even a no talent dip-shit like me sounds as if he can sing. Auto-Tune has been used excessively in recent years to give talent to the talentless...see Ashlee Simpson if you need proof. I then realized that whether its on television, movies, or in music, there seems to be a huge lack of talent...and that pisses me off.

  I remember, as a child, I gazed at celebrities in awe. They appeared untouchable and larger than life. They actually had talent. The entertainers today just simply suck. We have singers who cant sing, actors who cant act, and comedians that are about as funny as a case of the clap. Our modern culture has cheapened being a celebrity and made it common. These days any douche with a web-cam and half ass computer can become an overnight sensation on YouTube. If you are willing to sacrifice your dignity, you can become a reality television personality. All this has made being a celebrity attainable by those who have no business in front of a camera.

  When I was a kid, there were three television channels...four channels if you added a potato and clothes hanger to the mix. This meant that only the best made it to the screen. Now, with hundreds of channels, networks will take damn near anyone off the street just to fill space. The emergence of reality television has to be the worse thing to happen to the human race since the black plague. Not only does it show the worst character traits in people, it celebrates their bad behavior. Personally, I would not appear on a reality show no matter how bad I wanted to get famous. My self-respect is worth more that that (Please disregard the recent post concerning weird and embarrassing sexual moments...I really do have some self respect).

  The movies are a little better, but not much. The biggest bitch I have about movies is the lack of a decent action/adventure leading man. There are no more tough guys. Now we have Shia LaBeouf. Really? Is that all we get? I just cant buy Shia kicking any ass. Sadly, Matt Damon is the closest thing we have to macho. At least he has talent. Not much hope for movies if we don't get some decent bad-asses showing up soon.

  The worst offender of true talent is music. What the fuck is going on with music? We even have rappers using Auto-Tune, such as T-Pain. Follow me on this...rapping is basically just fucking talking. Do you really need Auto-Tune for that? And what the hell is all the fuss about Lady Ga-Ga? She is a no talent bitch that looks like an alien. And I'm not so sure she's not a chude (chick that might be a dude, for those of you not in the know), cause she looks like a pre-op tranny. The scariest thing is that one of the most popular acts in the country is Miley Cyrus. That little bitch can't act or sing, yet ironically, she has made millions doing both. I live in Nashville, and everyday I see tons of people who are more talented than these losers who are currently on the Billboard charts.. Why are all these no-talent mother fuckers so successful?

  I suppose I am becoming a bitter old man. Perhaps I just don't "get it" with entertainment these days. I had always considered myself pretty progressive, but perhaps I'm stuck in the past. If so, I'm cool with that cause at least I'm stuck in the past with great music and kick ass actors. I refuse to listen to any music recorded after 1980, and have completely stopped watching anything but news on television. And even the news makes me violently ill these days. I still roll the dice on movies, as there have been some pleasant surprises of late, such as: The Hurt Locker, Zombieland, and others. I do see a glimmer of hope in music with a few bands like: Cage the Elephant Kings of Leon, Saving Abel, and several others. As for television...fucking forget it. At least there is a sliver of potential in two of the three mediums. Oh well...I gotta run...don't want to miss today's episode of The Jersey Shore...now that's quality programming.

Sorry about yesterday

  If anyone is still reading this blog, then you noticed that I did not post yesterday. I usually do the blog the night before and then post it the next morning. I have been very busy and out-of-pocket for the last couple of days, but will make it up.

  Today's post was originally going to be about politics and the health care debate. However, I am fucking sick of it all and can't stand to write about it. I will re-visit that blog when I am less angry at politicians. Stay tunes as a new post will appear shortly. Thanks again.