THe FReCKLeD FINGeR

DISCLAIMER:  I'm a little drunk.

Today is my birthday.  (Hold for applause and bras being thrown).

Yes, today I turn the ripe ol' age of 26 which means one very important thing:  From this day, I have exactly one year to do something great, thus gaining fame and then tragically end my life with either drugs, liquor, suicide or overeating (option D looks like the safe bet).  I've always felt I could attain such heights as those who have passed before their prime at the age of 27 - Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain, Jim Morrison.  Yes, they are all musicians but they are still artists... and real artists, not like interior designers or fashion people, as those are just hobbies.  I'm sorry but if your job needs help from 3rd world residents to see your vision through, whether it be 7yr olds in Cambodia sewing your blouse together or 3 brawny Mexican men moving a couch back and forth until you are satisfied, it's not art.  It's actually just a burden.

Anyway, I went out to a nice dinner at an Italian Restaurant, or Ristorante Italiano if you have hair completely covering your knuckles... meaning you're Italian... that is what I was trying to get at there.

I wore cargo khaki shorts and sandals to this place as it was quite hot out and if I wear pants and or shoes and socks when its hot out, my legs get all pimply from the heat and my athlete's foot is exacerbated...  You don't think I know how awful my life is?  And these are just the minor things.

So having said that, do I look like I know what I am doing when it comes to ordering wine and doing all the bullshit that goes with it before evening taking a sip?  I ordered a nice bottle of German Riesling and the waiter comes back with the bottle.  Well that was nice and quick... but then he takes the bottle and displays it to me...?  What the hell are you doing?  Yes.  Is that the one I ordered?  It is?  OK, then pour it.  He was waiting for me to approve it.  If it is the bottle I ordered then why are we doing this?  I'm not high-fuckin-society. 

He pours it... barely.

Now what is this shit?  Apparently, now I'm supposed to smell it, twirl it around in my glass, take a sip and swish it around in my mouth... then, after 15 minutes of this foreplay, swallow it.  For the record, people who pretend to take part in those shenanigans, are absolutely un-hangout-with-able.  I'm pretty sure they don't even know what they are doing or why they do these pre-drink rituals.  It's all for show.  Oh, you're swirling the wine in your glass to aerate the wine?  Well, you're an asshole and I don't want to be in your company.  It's all horseshit.  Drink every drink as if it were still the 1920s, as fast as you possibly fuckin' can before you're arrested for having alcohol.  Stop it with your upper class, high brow bullshit, we're all human beings here.  I've been to both a winery and some really poor places and partied at both and you know what?  I'd prefer to party in dirt with cheap beers.  Why do you think Spring Break spots are in 'exotic' (poor) Mexican locations and not at Northern California wineries?

Now, where was I?  Oh yea.  YES!  It tastes exactly as I had imagined it would when I ordered it.  Fill up my glass.

Rather, he hands me the cork.

I shove it up his ass and go and get a plastic handle of $7 vodka and a gallon of SunnyD.

Warm weather is hurrrr.  Isn't that how da gangstaz says dat shiznat?  Hurrrr?  It's hot in hurrr!  Hot in dis piece!

I bet their favorite movie is 'Ben-Here'.

Anyway it's running season again for New Yorkers.  Everyone is out there in the park pretending they are not in tears over this sugary drink and pizza tax. 

"If I'm skinny then people will think I don't care I can no longer drink root beer floats... but I do care.  At night, I actually cut myself.  It's harmless though, because it's actually a butter knife with butter ON THE KNIFE.  So I watch Grey's while licking butter off my wrists.  Mmm, McCreamy!  Harmless and delicious!"

Why do men insist on jogging shirtless?  This is an occurrence in nature that completely baffles me.  I'm no Humphrey Bogart, but if I had these mythological 'abs', I would still wear a shirt.  And yes, of course I'm just jealous.  I'm completely fuckin' jealous... but I am pretty sure that if I didn't resemble an albino Gabourey Sibide, I'd still wear a top to run in.

What?  Are women (or guys, I mean let's be PC here, right?) going to see your pecs and run home after you and sex you?  I never see these jackasses talking to girls when they are running, so why do it?  Do your nipples hurt when you run in shirts?  Well, mine do too... just put band-aids over them, that's not too much to ask, is it?  Is it?  Actually that may be too much to ask a man to do.  It tends to hurt too because I have hairy nipples.  Maybe I should stop wearing shirts...

No.

I'm not giving in.

And while we're at it, let's do away with all things that I wish I could do but do to my awful genetic makeup, I couldn't possibly ever.

Threesomes.  Even in my wildest dreams I cannot fathom having a threesome with two girls.  Do you have any idea how expensive rags are?  The chloroform is dirt cheap, but I cannot afford two rags on a cartoonist's salary.

Climbing Everest.  Why do we still do shit like this?  Two of the worst sensations a body, well, my body, could go through:  coldness and going in the up direction.  Climbers die and are just left up there... so in that case, your families deserve to have an empty casket due to your selfishness.

Throwing Out The First Pitch.  I know this will never happen for me but it's OK to dream, right?  I obviously have nothing to offer the human race and will most likely not do something of notoriety that will land in this position...  but in the meantime I do wish rotator cuff cancer on all those who get this great honor in my stead.  I have this vision in my head that when, if given the chance to throw an opening pitch, I'll throw a 103mph cockshot, then the baseball world will be a buzz and it will land me in the starting rotation for my hometown team a la some kind of fantastical 'Rookie Of The Year' scenario.

Going To Heaven.  I had a shot once but I've ruined every possible angle that may see me not burning in hell for all of eternity.  I could always blow myself up at the US Consulate.  72 virgins means 36 threesomes... pretty good odds, if you ask me.

The live feed into the bathrooms at the Herbert Hoover Rest Stop at Exit 14 on the New Jersey Turnpike was not working properly, so I had to watch my 2nd favorite thing:  the National Geographic Channel.

There was a special on about chimpanzees and how they have now learned to use weapons while hunting.  They have developed a tool, which is only a branch, but they use it to shove into holes in trees to try and fish out bush babies.  Sounds simple but it's pretty incredible.

OK.  If at this point you still believe in creationism, you are a goddamn handicapped lady or gentleman.  How much more proof does science need to give you to match your... your... your... your... zero evidence to support that we are made by a giant marionette craftsman in the sky.

We are 96% chimpanzees, genetically speaking.

Is God such a lazy shit who, upon finishing 'making' chimps,  just figured when 'making' humans, he'd shave them and file the toes down so we'd never notice?  Maybe the rib God took from Adam to 'make' Eve was actually a chimpanzee rib that fell into the bowl when God was 'making' Adam and subsequently Eve turned out to be only 4% human?

And how come there isn't a list of every animal he has ever 'created' listed somewhere in the Bible?  Apparently written within the tall tales is that God had Adam call over all the animals and name them.  What happened to that chapter?  That would make this a whole hell of a lot easier.  Granted, it is exciting to discover a new species, but I think, at one time or another, someone would have considered slipping in God's resume as an insert in the world's Bibles.

So let's say everyone is formed by an all knowing and all seeing God.  He's a terrible human being maker.  He stinks actually.  Everyone who swears full heartedly by their stance of creationism are fuckin' lunatics:

Religious nuts who protest and wave signs reading 'God Hates FAGS' and 'Thank God For Dead Soldiers' on the perimeter of a soldier's funeral who died while at war.

Christian militias in Midwest who target cops for murder then after successfully murdering a police officer will use explosives at said cop's funeral... killing many cops in attendance.

God loving people who kill other people, doctors specifically, because they sometime stray from what God may or may not have said about life He 'created' on Earth... especially about late term abortion.

A Catholic tiger escapes from it's enclosure at a San Francisco zoo and mauls two Hispanic protestant boys... one dies from injuries.

I'm supposed to dress up in my finest garb and lovliest hat, go to a church and sit amongst these crazy sons of bitches tomorrow on Easter?  Yes... only because I am spending the holiday at my parent's house and they are still ignorant asses just like the rest of them.  Well at least I hear they serve crackers during this mass . 

Wait...

THE CRACKERS ARE WHAT?!?!

April Fool's Day.

Yay.

Did you do something whacky today to a friend?  Did you pull a prank on a coworker?  Did you change your website around to fool your readers?  Holy shit, you're edgy.  Screw the razors, teenage girls that are depressed and overflowing with angst just have to rub their arms up and down you you're so edgy.

But... did you give someone AIDS?  That's right, that's not a typo.  AIDS, did you give it to someone?  I only ask because that is the original tradition of April Fool's Day.  Really.  Don't believe me?  Well, take a seat and list-

Oh no, Brett just pulled your chair out when you were about sit down!  Ha.  We're having fun on April Fool's!

Seriously, here we go:

The original April Fool's Day was conceived in 18th century France when there was a discrepancy in the calendar.  Those who did not acknowledge this change were labeled 'fools' and therefore April 1st would forever be known as 'All Fool's Day'.

In the same flavor as the plague, this celebration spread quite rapidly throughout Europe and subsequently crossed the English Channel into England and moved north and found a home in Scotland.  As it turns out, the Scots had a thing for butts as they dumped the term 'April Fool's Day' and renamed it the much more appropriate 'Taily Day'.  They spent the day pulling pranks and spoofs that would involve the buttocks.  The country that invented skirts for men and, let us not forget, the worst hair color ever placed atop a head, would eventually be responsible for adopting April Fool's longest lasting tradition:  the 'KICK ME' sign.

Like a racquetball, the celebration of All Fool's bounced back down through England and across Europe, but this time with the addition of the 'KICK ME' sign.  All of Europe was kickin' each other's asses.  Rumor has it, this is the time period where Homo sapiens lost their tails because of all the ass kickin'... we evolved right out of it.

Finally, word reaches Asia.  China, like always, has to stick their tiny little faces in other people's business.  The Emperor is told that this tradition is based on kicking, a physical act they feel they mastered and take great pride in with their revolutionary style of battle, kung fu.  Well this does not sit well with the Emperor and he turns red, well orange, as he goes into tiny little hysterics.  He feels disrespected and as quickly as he can gather the caravan, he sends it westward towards Scotland... with a message.  The message is brief and brazen:  Cease and desist.

Word reaches Scotland.  This makes the King quite angry, yet nervous, as he knows he does not have the militia to fight China's nine billion soldiers... if this happened to escalate to war.  He decides to attempt a truce and sends a returning caravan, himself included, to China to meet and try and settle this dispute.

The King and his fellow Scotsmen reach China and greet the Emperor and his warriors.  No one knows what the fuck the other one is saying, but for the sake of this fictional tale, let's just stretch reality.

They, in time, come to an agreement.  Each nation will get 3 letters each of the 6 letters that make up 'KICK ME'.  The Chinese choose the letters 'F', 'U' and 'K'.  The treaty would not be green lit unless China were to get the letters 'F' and 'U' as China is a male dominated culture where women are subservient and the Chinese word 'fu' means 'man'.  They hate women.  They also chose the 'K' because it looks like a guy kicking.  The Scots agreed with their terms and they choose the letters 'E', 'M' and 'C' for the only reason that if the King hadn't become royalty, he dreampt of a career as an MC or emcee.  Before they departed, the King gave the Emperor his demo tape.

So, China has 'F', 'U' and 'K'.

Scotland has 'E', 'M' and 'C'.

With the new letters, the original phrase 'KICK ME' was impossible to portray.  So the two heads of state moved the idea into a different direction.  Since the Scots loved ass so much and this would give the Chinese an excuse to perpetuate their treatment of women as mere objects, they agreed on a brand new phrase:

'FUCK ME'

After a century or so, everyday on April 1 of the calendar, the world's population would have a sign on their backs that reads 'FUCK ME'.  So much goddamn sex was going on, both vaginally and analy, disease began to erupt.

AIDS was born.

And so that's my story.  Goodnight kids.

I really don't care about celebrities and their lives, but not just because loathe them all but because I loathe them all and am completely stricken with jealously as I continue to exist in my less than mediocre life.  To be perfectly Frankie Muniz, America's incurable lust for gossip is one of the few reasons I support terrorists and their plight against the Western infidels.

What I do support when it comes to this voyeuristic culture, however, is this new 'Celebrity Death Pool' we currently have begun indulging in with Lindsay Lohan's impending death.  News outlets were given a date, selected at random, and if the celebrity dies on that particular day... well you've just won yourself a Pulitzer.  And yes, they are that easy to come by.  To ready themselves if they are indeed the lucky ducks, members of the media are already transcribing obituaries and 'on air ready' copy to have a leg up on the competition when, in this case Lindsay Lohan, finally and fortunately ceases to burden and embarrass us redheads.

So, news stations around the country, here's some advice:

Getting round-the-clock coverage following a celebrity's death - BAD

Nationally predicting and salivating while awaiting the death of a celebrity - REALLY GODDAMN WONDERFUL

Keep it up.

How is it legal to have more than four children?  You are not Amish, you are not running a farm.  There's no possible need to create that much life.  It is impossible for a human being, either maternally or paternally, to project that much unconditional love onto offspring.

Granted, I don't have any children but I know I can relate.  There are four possessions I currently adore and feel strongly that I cannot live without and know there is absolutely no room for a fifth item in my life.  BECAUSE I'M RESPONSIBLE... and to be honest, I am petrified to have children because I know they are notorious for showing up and ruining whatever life you had prior.

Also there's the financial burden.

You also have to worry about whether or not they will be healthy.

Then there's picking names.

What schools they should attend and if you are in the proper neighborhood to raise children are also stresses on the parents.

See?  Kids are the goddamn worst.  Who even wants one, let alone multiple.  Oh, I think I know why people want to produce out of their own means - you get fame.  I recently saw another pair of assholes now have their own show because they're selfish pieces of shit and produced six or so kids.  Oh but a twist, they build shit.  Aw, how fuckin' adorable!  Boo.

Octomom, John and Kate and their eight, these awful people who have eighteen kids.  The aspirations of signing a 22 episode contract with a major network are keeping these women unnaturally pregnant... and of course, the television exec will be there waiting in the delivery room with that contract.  "Just splash some afterbirth on this dotted line and we have a deal."  So it's more like a cuntract.  Ha!

We are procreating our way right into 3rd world territory.  Unless America begins their own underage shoe-making programs or linen sweatshop businesses, we need to enforce a rule to keep penises out of fertility drug frenzied vaginas. 

In some countries in this world, you cannot have more than a few kids.  Tip of the ol' cap to you, you responsible so and so's... you deserve it.

Why does England continually send themselves over here to America to help us?  We couldn't possibly be able to help ourselves so we have to out source guidance?  Stay out of our business, we're great good OK fine mediocre getting by.

First it was Gordan Ramsay to help our failing restaurants.

Then, it was Bear Grylls to remind us that, in case it slipped our minds, we should squeeze the liquid out of elephant shit if we ever find ourselves battling dehydration in the Sahara.

Now it's this Jamie Oliver guy to try and help our children beat obesity.

Leave us alone.  We are quite happy with our failing Mom & Pop restaurants, dying horrifically while out on exotic 'holiday' and sitting on the sidelines eating a hotdog watching other children take part in sports.

We finally got our own place and you are like the mother that just pops in to bring us some frozen meals for the week and some extra laundry detergent.  We moved out a long time ago and we're big boys now.

And yes, we'll find a nice girl and give you the grandcountries you always wanted... we promise.

It's my mother's birthday today, so it's only fitting to talk about premature ejaculation, because after all, as half of Pittsfield, Massachusetts already knows, this is how I came to be... also a gun was present.

Only kidding, I have two dads.

Anyway, I just had a simple question:  When are we going to evolve as sexual beings?  When?  I mean, I feel I've evolved quite nicely but the more I look around and experience other beings who promote sexuality, I realize they have not... at all.

Hear me out... except for all you fuckin' wackos who just have sex to procreate.  You're awful people and the rest of this isn't for you, so go back to what you were doing, which is having zero fun.

We all enjoy sex and we all enjoy all kinds of sex.  Consensual or not, statistically, sex takes place every 41 seconds at any given location throughout the globe.  It is fact.  It's a primal urge and something we cannot fight and because it is so primal, it is also something we fight to obtain.

I spend hours a day trying to get better at sex, not because I want to but as a member of the western civilization, I have to.  In the world today, it seems like you have to be good at sex.  Having said that...

Ladies, why am I not allowed to masturbate before we have sex?

If we happen to meet at a bar and we end up going home with one another and the sex seems inevitable, why am I not permitted a 8-13 minute period where I 'freshen up'?  See the problem with me is, I think I have what the elders call 'premature ejaculation'... but I wouldn't say all of the time, no, I'd say it's more like every time. 

While on a date, I once came before the check did. 

My ejaculate is put on an incubator it's so premature. 

But seriously, folks... is this thing on?

Despite this drawback, I have discovered a method to help combat my dilemma... wait, our dilemma.  Just let me masturbate before we get into it.  It's very simple.  Following that, I'll need maybe five or ten more minutes to get the blood flowing again and during that time we could, ya know, either watch some tv or play a card game, but after that.... oh baby!  You have to realize that I just bought us about 4-5 more minutes of intercourse with this exercise.  We're welcome.

If women want the ideal lover, then why can't they grant us this TV timeout? Why is it that women are always the ones who get to 'slip into something more comfortable'?  I'm not comfortable at the moment, I mean for Christ's sake, these are $20 jeans I'm about to ruin.

"Whoooo-ey!  Well, by golly, we done beat them coloreds!"

That was just a small tidbit of the excessive hollering that Minnesota heard throughout the evening that forced them to call the police on their downstairs neighbor, Iowa.

Yep, the University of Northern Iowa took down the overall #1 seed of this here NCAA basketball tournament, the University of Kansas, this afternoon.  The Panthers of Northern Iowa, comprised mostly of a roster of caucasian young men beat a Kansas Jayhawks squad whose roster is mostly African Americans gentlemen.

Did you hear what I just said?!?!

What's next?! A white president?!

The weather is beginning to turn around, which usually means two things:

Everyone is outside.

I sweat when I walk.

I, like two out of three other New Yorkers, decided to go to Central Park on this gorgeous day.  Joggers, roller-bladers, bicyclists, picnic'ing, public coitus, you name it they were doing it on the year's first 70degree day.  It was a dangerous road to be on with so much traffic going in both directions, some at recklessly disturbing speeds, so seeing police and ambulance lights up ahead only seemed natural.  A small crowd had gathered around the commotion, so I'm looking forward to it.  I walk up to the scene and peer over a couple's shoulders.

Are you kidding me?!?!

A man, knelt down beside a young crying boy, bike lying horizontally on the ground beside them with a pair of cops and an EMT bent at the waist, smiling at the young boy.

Wh-wh-wh-what is this shit?

He fell off of his bike?  Really?  There's an ambulance and TWO police cars?   For this?  What an asshole father this guy is.  The boy, if I can hypothesis for a second, probably fell off his bike, seeing as to how he is dressed is an idiot already, and scraped his palms on the cement.  Of course dad then freaks out and calls 9-1-1 like every other over protected ass than now has a real responsibility.

Now we are all gathered here today joyfully laughing and cheering that he is OK?  What a selfish sack of shit this dad is.  How is every other person not as angry as I am?  Nobody else seems to notice the gross misuse of our city's police and rescue services?  I hear the cops utter their typical little kid motivational sayings:

'You OK, big guy?'

'Everyone falls off their bike.  Heck, even Derek Jeter fell off his bike when he was learning.'

'Good thing you had that helmet on your head, huh?'

Good thing that EMT is here because I'm going to fuckin' vomit.