Watched a good chunk of television today and one thing I tuned in for was a show on National Geographic Channel about 'Prostitution' and how it's perceived in different cultures around the globe.
Every day. Every single day the world is a constant battlefield for dominance. Being a pure superpower on Earth is a struggle taken on every day and will continue to do so until that goal is taken. We all know that up until the last decade or so, America had been pretty prominent in the list of world leaders. Given some economic and political changes, we can yet again fill the void so many crave.
But why...?
Why National Geographic? Why would you push the USA down with your editorial decision? ALL of the other locations featured, whether it be Australia, Praque, England or Amsterdam, ALL showed attractive and in some cases, HOT, women soliciting prostitution to men.
Not America. Nope. National Geographic, a company based out of Washington D.C., decided to showcase the best and brightest cattle we have on display here in America promoting 'the world's oldest profession'. The choices we have as men, according to NatGeo, is either the lovely caucasian bag of bones with a sweet tooth for methamphetamine or the thicker cut bacon who may or may not have been stunt doubles for the star of 'Precious'.
Couldn't you have just taken video of hot women walking the streets at night? I mean, you didn't show any faces of these women, so who would have known if they weren't actual hookers? I sure as hell wouldn't have... and I'm willing to bet the majority of the audience currently watching this or any show on National Geographic, could not even describe what a prostitute looks like.
Even the teenage girls in India that are forced into prostitution were more attractive than the ones that openly choose to have sex for money here in my homeland.
The world already mocks us for our shitty economy, our greedy and free lifestyles, our fat inhabitants and more importantly, our politicians that have been involved in, are currently involved in or have lost their positions because of sex. Now they have one more stick and stone to throw at us and they are named Mrs. Gross Sex and Ms. Awful Oral.
Shape up or pull out, NatGeo.
]]>I took my dirty clothes down to the dungeon to do some laundry and the exact time I walked in, another tenant from my building practically bumps into me. Guy meets girl.
Being the chivalrous son of a bitch that I am, I decided to let her go ahead and do her laundry first. Guy woos girl.
I figured I'd leave my laundry basket down there to promote that I am the next one in line to use the machine. Girl recognize guy trusts her.
We exchange flirtatious pleasantries and I leave to go back up to my apartment with my dirty laundry on a side table next to the washer machine. Guy and girl separate.
I waited roughly forty minutes to head back downstairs so I could load my own laundry. I excitedly arrived in the laundry room, looked down at my clothes and saw on the very top was a pair of disgusting skid marked briefs. Must have been the pair I wore to the St. Patty's Day Parade last Saturday, which then I accurately recounted: all day alcohol binge and end of the night Taco Bell eating contest. There's absolutely no way she could have not seen this. Guy never sees girl again. Guy buys pornography... again.
]]>All of this, of course, is under the guise that NYC is trying to help it's extra large residents in the ongoing struggle against obesity. The major engine behind this tax is that it will sway fatsos from buying soda and junk food, therefore trimming their diet, because they will not stand for this and REFUSE to pay the extra buck to indulge and binge.
Come on. If there was a cup cake inside an alligator's mouth, you better be sure there will be an obese person sneaking up behind it. A tax is not going to sway a person from eating... especially now because all these round bozos classify overeating as a 'disease'.
Watch. This tax will be in the city for less than a day before a lawsuit against the city is filed claiming that:
My client, Susan Trunfio, is morbidly obese and due to the city's recent food tax, chronically under funded to support her habit. She is sick. She is diseased. She needs these products to keep her healthy and to continue to have the upper hand in her fight against this addiction.
Why can't Americans just be responsible? If you are fat, don't eat so much shit and don't drink soda. Listen, I know America, as a whole, is mostly full of idiots, and New York City, being the Mecca of America, is the Dream Team of morons... but I think we can handle this without this tax.
Tell ya what, NYC. If this tax does in fact go through, you need to grant me some allowance as I am not morbidly obese and seldom , if ever, drink soda. I state now, that Michael Bloomberg, residing Mayor of Manhattan, should allow me to cannibalize.
Hear me out.
Since A.) this tax is designed to sway fatties from furthering their fatness by neglecting sugary drinks and pizza because they do not want to overpay it, and since B.) I am at a healthy weight, I'm therefore being unfairly taxed I should be granted the right to:
Meet me halfway here.
]]>Click.
Clang.
Cling.
Cling.
Clang.
Yep, the sound of a blind man's pole banging into anything and everything as he makes his way from one end of the train to the other... the other, of course, is where I am sitting. As he nears, it becomes apparent he is homeless and begging for money.
For Christ's sake, why does this always happen to me. I'm too good of a person to resist these people in their plight to stick needles in their arms. Luckily, in this case at least, I may be in the clear. How it usually goes down is I mistakenly make eye contact and that seals my doom. They immediately lock in on me and being the weak little piece of shit I am, I submit and hand over whatever change I have on my person.
This time, I was feeling generous and well, awful at the same time. He hit EVERY pole on the way towards me. EV-ER-RY POLE. It was beautiful... too bad he wasn't there to see it.
Anyway, I pulled out a buck and waited for him to make his way 50ft, which was roughly 5minutes. Of course, being the crazy homeless man that he is, he was rambling about some armageddon or how he lost his job and family or some whacky story. I waited patiently. Dollar firmly in my hand, arm stretched out wide, a gaping smile on my face, a black stare on his. BOOM! A perfect handoff...
Shit, he didn't know I put anything in his can. He didn't recognize my donation and therefore, in the game of life, it doesn't count. I won't get that much need 'God bless you' from a homeless man that I constantly crave to get through my day.
So I reach back up to try and touch his hand so gently just to give him the impression I did just put something in the can; he'll then reach down and feel the bill and all will be right in the universe. Perfect plan...
He pulls away as if I was trying to take his riches and dares to give an ugly look in my direction.. which is basically left. He was partially correct in his direction, though, because along with half the train car, I was also to his left. He then stumbled back down to the other end of the train.
What a blind asshole. I give you the crispest dollar bill I have and you give me an attitude. My Irish eyes are not smiling and you sir, your eyes are not working.
Me - 1.
Blind Asshole - 0 or O, he doesn't know the difference.
]]>Oh, but it teaches the kids discipline.
Blow it out your ass. Put a little league bat in his/her hands or soccer ball at their feet. I hate hearing that shit about how it teaches your kid discipline. Why don't you discipline them yourself? Why do they have to roll around on a gym mat in a stupid outfit.
Even more, stop making them walk home in their gi's, bring a change of clothes for god's sake. They look like minature assholes in their yellow belts. They aren't going to stick with it, I guarantee it. If they had, they would, or at least should, be black belts by age 15... and I don't know too many 15yr olds that could kick my ass. Stop giving the parenting responsibility to these dojo masters. Get off your ass and smack the kid if he acts up.
I could beat your kid up. No? Ten bucks! Let's do this!
The only reason he begs you to sign up for these horseshit karate courses is to tell his friends he does it. In less than a year, it will be another activity. After that, another one to obsess over. Get over it and turn him onto a real after school activity like pee wee football or little league, something that will last and if fortunate enough, might make your kid rich and he'll buy you a home.
Moral: Your kid stinks.
]]>As a fat person, I found myself yet again at the grocery store. These empoyees know me by name. Of course, none of which speak English, so I'm not sure what name they know me by, but they say it every time I walk in.
"THE FAT RED MAN!"
Anyway, I was loading up on some energy drinks, but for some reason, this store manager or stockboy decided that they still live in Africa with 7ft tall lion hunting Massai men. How the hell am I supposed to reach this shit? I look goddamn ridiculous standing on my tippy toes, sweating and grunting like a fuckin' elk. I can barely touch the bottle with the very tip of my middle finger and have to do that gentle fingering motion to slightly move it closer to the edge inch by inch. What kind of place is this? I am the epitome of America: short and fat and Latin tempered, goddamnit! Meet our needs for Christ's sake.
I feel like those miniature creatures on TLC that live in a big world... well in this establishment, I too, live in a big world. If they lived in my neighborhood, those midgets would have to eat one another's teeny little bits because they'd starve. They could never shop at the local supermarket.
Holy shit. I know exactly how they feel... with their itty bitty fingers. Ha.
This is what I heard from a group of people behind me as everyone stands around while their dogs play off leash in a sectioned off corner in Central Park. I turned to see a woman talking to her son, urging him to ramble off to these helpless folks about his supposed 'good news'.
Oh no! I just shit all over myself in excitement! Please tell me what the good news is stranger talking to other strangers. I'm pretty sure this audience did not want to hear what this shithead had to say any more than I did. This person could have said:
"HOLY SHIT! Orangutans!!!"
I still would have blew off this inconsiderate ass to pick my dog's crap up. I was actually looking forward to my dog defecating so I could walk away from this nonsense.
"G'head... tell 'em what colleges you got into!"
Are you kidding me? This is the 'good news'? Gimme a goddamn break, lady. I gathered from their prior subject matter for the conversation that these people have never met one another before tonight. This lady jumped AT LEAST three social steps in the matter of 10mins of talking.
No. You know what? No. I'm not going to sit here and eves drop on your self-serving bullshit. Trying to validate all the time and money you spent on SAT preps and road trips to potential schools to all these people on my time? I say nay.
All this carrying on may have been a show to cover up and fantasize for a moment because, to be honest, I thought he was retarded for the first 6-8minutes I was there. Who clings to their mother that closely without the state requiring you to do so? To stay on the same subject, he sounds like he is one facial and Cosmopolitan away from being a full blown homosexual... no 18yr old boy should make those noises when petting dogs. What is that, an excited squeal?
A MUSIC MAJOR?!?! Ha! Godspeed HoMozart.
]]>The hell with this little Justin Bieber internet crying girl... Cody. She doesn't have the slightest clue of what she has started. She will be responsible, when all the blood is wiped away and all the bodies are gathered, for more deaths than World War II... due to all the pain and suffering, it will be dubbed 'Awwwwschwitz' by the media because sole responsibility falls on Bieber's cuteness.
I know, I know... she's only four or however old she wants us to think she is. She's the devil, and she has already begun the devil's work and doesn't even know it yet. Here we go...
Welcome to Hell ladies and gentlemen.
OK, so this little jerk is whining all over the internet about this Bieber kid. The mother, fueled by visions of internet stardom, expends very little effort in attempts to console or explain to this hysterical idiot about life and how to act properly when going through it. With the dreams of talking to Tom Bergeron dancing in her head, she decides to try and elevate the situation for the sake of the video and it's impending potential. She knows exactly what she is doing, the more she pushes this girl, the better the result and hopefully, the higher the view count.
This video, of course, to my devastating anger, explodes immediately, releasing a hidden message completely inaudible to all except girls 8-17yrs of age throughout the world. The message is just as terrible as it is direct.
Every other little brat is going to see the response this girl got from Justin. They will want personal appearances. They will beg, kick, scream and urinate until they get they're very own Justin Bieber lap to sit upon... but they will be disappointed. If you open a Biology book, you will see what exactly happens to disappointed little girls: They bottle the shit up! They bottle shit up as tight as they possibly can... and just when it might be bottled up tight enough, even too tight for comfort, it's tightened up even fuckin' more! Mass suicides will sweep across America and YouTube will be flooded with even more videos that surface hourly of mothers crying for Justin to visit their daughters' funerals.
Women were never visited by John or Paul during Beatlemania. My mother never told tales of Ringo showing up at her door after she sent Walter Cronkite polaroids of herself inconsolably crying. No! The Beatles had smarter people around them to turn away these psychotic bitches because they know, it's safer and better for their client's wellbeing in the long run if I don't give in and visit just one girl. Let us remember, Mark David Chapman, for he cried out for John Lennon throughout the night, on various occasions, but he never got the attention he wanted or felt was stolen from him by Yoko.
Unfortunately for Bieber, the former cute and adorable little angels are now crazy fuckin' young adults that are capable of many things: they can rent cars, sharpen knives, buy shovels, be pre-approved for credit cards, they can create a life and just as quickly take it away. They no longer want him to come over for supper. No, no, no. That was then. Now they want to make sure that no other girls have Justin over for supper. They cannot nor will not be stopped until they get what they want... the Bieber blood. They do not wish to own a vile of the young lad's life giving fluid, but rather stain the streets he walks as a symbol that they were his last and most memorable personal appearance.
I'm saying it right now and mark my words: Justin Bieber will be dead in 6months. No, it won't happen in a cute way either, like his body being ripped into two dozen boyishly-adorable and cutesy little pieces by a crowd of crazed cunts chanting 'ONE LESS LONEY GIRL!".
No, it will be Murder One by the most ambitious of these scorn girls. It will be in an alley. It will be ugly.
]]>Haiti? No.
Chile? No.
This isn't anything like those two causes, this is more, how can I put it... fake. Fake for the sake of this comedic rant.
HELP SAVE THE SHIRTS FOR FAT SHITS!
I was flipping through the channels tonight and saw a show about an obese kid who wears his shirt in the pool (pause for laughter) and it immediately made me remember my days as a big pile of depressing and burdensome-to-my-parents shit. The days when I, myself, used to dawn the XXX t-shirt in the community pool.
They are all but extinct in this country. There was once a time that a person was so ashamed of their morbid obesity that they had to wear a blanket in the pool to cover their disgusting, blubbery exteriors. Nuh uh, not no more I say. America has become so goddamn fat, that 80-85% of the community pool looks like a riverbank in East Africa with these basking hippos. No need for t-shirts in the pool when the person to your very right is even fatter than you and so on and so on and so on and so on... until there's a man sun bathing on a fork lift in the parking lot, counting his TLC residual money.
We've eaten pool t-shirts into existence! We have a long road ahead of us if we want a change. It didn't take long to rid ourselves of pool t-shirts, but I dream of a day in the future when only one kid, two at the most, will feel so humiliated by his Michelin Man-esque physique, that he needs to wear a shirt to feel the slightest bit of comfort while around other humans.
We will see tears again my friends! Let's make this dream, which inevitably will end up being a nightmare for some, come true once again!
]]>Through the vast child-like imagination I still have, I tried to place myself inside one of these prisons, trying to survive my every day and my vision seems to always end with the same thing: blowjob.
Now we've been over this before, I'm a straight guy so I'm not saying 'blowjob' in a homosexual way but more in that 'this is the only recourse I have to live' way. I'd have to blow people morning, noon and night. It sucks (PUN IS REALLY FUCKING INTENDED!). I could maybe hold my own for 9 minutes or so, but these men are goddamn mooses... Mooses? Meese? Moose? Whatever, they're e-fucking-normous.
I would have to become someone's bitch. Which, in laymen's terms, means A.) I would be selected by a certain group, whether it be the Blacks, Mexicans or Aryans and B.) promptly have my teeth knocked out so I couldn't bite the penis of the lucky male who chooses me as their bitch even if I was feeling a little spicy that day.
I know what you guys are all thinking, but I'm way ahead of you. If I ran to the guards for help, they make you blow them too.
Every outcome of me being in prison is blowing men.
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