Monday, August 29, 2005

R.I.P. Dimebag

Ok. I know this is a little late, but I've been really busy. Last Saturday would have been the 39th birthday of Dimebag Darrell, the legendary guitarist from Pantera. So I've decided to post my comments from when I first heard the terrible news. Dimebag was great. I'm no pussy, but this video makes me sad: http://www.zakkwylde.com/nwwd/video.htm
Dimebag was seriously the man. I was lucky enough to meet him a few times. He couldn't have been a cooler guy. Though I didn't know him as a friend, I'm truly heartbroken that he's dead. Read the shit I wrote and feel terrible. I know I do.

This is a fucking terrible loss. Dimebag Darrell was killed last night while playing a set with his new band Damageplan. Some lunatic hopped an eight foot security wall, got on stage, shot Dimebag and then fired on the audience before being shot and killed himself by a police officer. Dimebag was one hell of a guitarist, and from what I've heard, a hell of a guy. Metal musicians and fans everywhere are devastated by the loss of Dimebag. I can't even imagine what his close friends and family are going through. Vinnie Paul, Dimebag's brother and bandmate, was on stage to witness the death of his own brother. My prayers (yeah I said prayers asshole, do something about it) go out to the Abbott family, especially Vinnie Paul; and also to the families of the audience members who were killed.
I've been listening to Pantera for years. I think Pantera had a huge influence on me musically. When I was learning how to play bass and guitar, if I was able to play a new Pantera riff, I knew I was getting better. The early bands I was a part of played Pantera songs for fun, and when we went anywhere, Pantera was played obnoxiously loud in the car. We saw all of the Pantera home videos and saw the band play live. They were a major part of my life, as they were for many others.
I was able to meet Dimebag a few times in my teen years (one time he was too drunk to stand up) and he was awesome. The first time I met him I was at the NAMM show. There were so many people in line to meet him he had to leave before I got his autograph. Me and my friends heard he was meeting with some execs nearby so we ran there but they just shut the door. We waited for him to come out and when we had about given up and were going to leave, the door opened and some guy was coming out to get Dimebag more beer. Moments later, Dimebag himself came out and walked briskly to the bathroom saying he had to piss. He was in there saying something like, "Hey everybody check this shit out" standing further and further away from the urinal still pissing into it. When he came out of the can, I asked if I could get a picture with him. He said something like, "Fuck yeah" and drunkenly posed for the camera. He wasn't in a hurry to get back, he wasn't pissed that we stopped him, he was actually happy to interact with his fans and fellow metalheads... I've met other musicians who were total stuck-up dicks. Dimebag wasn't stuck up at all. He just seemed like he was having a blast.
I didn't know him personally but I am truly saddened by his death. There are very few times when I actually write anything that is completely serious, and even fewer times when I write anything so solemnly.
To people in the news who try to blame metal music for the shooting - Fuck you! The murderer was whacked out and had serious mental problems of some kind. Metal music or not, he still had problems. By the same token, tighter gun control wouldn't have stopped the incident either. Strict gun control keeps law abiding citizens from owning guns whereas the criminals will always have them. Also, some cockhole on the news said something along the lines of, "...he wrote songs called 'Fuck You' and 'Explode' I'm not sure if it's such a loss." He's a piece of shit and should be castrated with a claw hammer.
Dimebag was a great musician and a hero/inspiration to many, many people. His death is really a tragedy, yet, a tragedy that can't overshadow everything he did for heavy metal and his fans.
R.I.P. Dimebag Darrell 1966 - 2004

Friday, August 26, 2005

Sweet, Sweet Justice

I thought the whole tricking a vegan to eat meat was funny (which it totally is), but I just got an email with something as funny if not funnier than that.

I don’t know about everyone else, but I hate gang bangers. They paint graffiti on everything because they’re narcissistic dickholes with too much free time on their hands, they sell drugs, they start and then blow up meth labs, they rob liquor stores, break into homes, cars, and generally make a nuisance of themselves. That is, when they’re not shooting people for no good reason. See, if they’d just shoot each other that would be great. But since they’re generally too damn stupid to aim a gun even Michael J. Fox could use accurately, they usually end up killing a bunch of innocent people who were just minding their own business in the first place.

I also hate these gang member coward fucks because I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with them. A few fights here and there is one thing, but I’ve been robbed at gunpoint, and jumped a few times. It sucks. Could these dickless idiots be any more cowardly? If they don’t outnumber you ten to one, they won’t fight you; they have to go find one of their buddies with a gun.

That is why this particular email was especially funny to me. Here’s the gist of it in my own words.

Some illiterate, piece-of-shit member of the 18th St. Gang in LA thought he was going to be cool and car-jack a semi truck. Maybe he figured if he jacked a semi, the rest of his gang would think he was tough and quit making him the ass pincushion for their nightly gang bangs…if you know what I mean.

At any rate, he jumped on the driver’s side and tried to look tough as he pointed the gun at the truck driver. The truck driver, who was apparently many times smarter than the would-be semi truck thief, simply opened his door and knocked that dumbshit cholo right off the side of the truck. As expected, Mr. “I’m so hardcore because I’m in a gang” lost his balance and fell right under the wheels of the truck.

The truck driver then slammed on the breaks, much like anyone would after hitting a small animal. That big truck came to rest right on top of gang boy. Talk about justice!

Do not look at the pictures below if you are a pussy. I’m told they are graphic,
but I’ve seen much, much worse.



































It’s good to know there is justice in this world. This is what happens when people get what they deserve. I got a good laugh from this, and I'd almost bet money the truck driver did as well.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

One of the Funniest Things Ever

The horrified look on this preachy, hardcore vegan's face when she realized someone had just tricked her into eating a whole beef burger; not to mention the hilarious retching that followed. Need I say more?

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

I'll Be Back

Recently, I got three rather large freelance jobs. These are pretty time-consuming projects, and as much as I like ranting about shit that pisses me off, this work has to come first. I'm working more hours than a hooker that needs an operation, and after sitting in front of a computer all day and often into the night, the last thing I want to do when I call it a day is sit in front of the computer some more.

To the few of you that read this page on a semi-regular basis, never fear, I shall be back at it as soon as possible (with longer, full-length posts). In the meantime, there's a bunch of shit I wrote a while ago at this address: www.geocities.com/dementia_wrecked/pissedoff.html Some of it is already on this site, but much of it is not. I still plan on posting from time to time, just not as often as I'd like or as lengthy as usual.

Well, it's back to the ol' grindstone for me. Another day, another dollar. And in the famous words of Jesus I think it was, I'll be back.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Take That Madonna

Apparently, Madonna was recently thrown from her horse while riding it around in England. She broke her collar bone, one of her hands, and cracked three ribs. At this point I would like to thank the horse for kicking Madonna’s ass since I have not yet had the opportunity to do so myself. Let’s hope next week, Madonna will have a freak-yoga-accident and bust some teeth out of her empty head.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Tag, You're It.

List five songs that you are currently digging - it doesn't matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they're not any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying right now. Post these instructions and the five songs (with artist) in your blog. Then tag five people to see what they're listening to.

I wouldn’t usually take part in something so similar to a chain letter, but I like writing about bands that kick ass so I decided to do it. It was tough to limit the list to five songs, but here are five songs that are currently damaging my eardrums like my heavy drinking is damaging my liver.

Hate Eternal – “Behold Judas” from the album “I Monarch”

God Among Insects – “A Gush of Blood” from the album “Worldwide Death”

Decapitated – “Spheres of Madness” from the album “Nihility”

Pig Destroyer – “Strangled With a Halo” from the album “Prowler in the Yard”

Impaled – “Rest in Faeces” from the album “Mondo Medicale

Those are the five for today. Seriously, I listen to so much shit, limiting this list to five songs was impossible…which is why below I’ve included some “Honorable Mentions.” Hey, that’s legitimate. I swear it’s not just a thinly veiled attempt to sneak in a few more badass songs.

Dying Fetus – “Destroy the Opposition” from the album “Destroy the Opposition”

Samael – “Baphomet’s Throne” from the album “Ceremony of Opposites”

Anal Cunt – “You’re a Trendy Fucking Pussy” from the album “40 More Reasons to Hate Us” (although “Van Full of Retards” was a close second)

Behemoth – “Zos Kia Cultus” from the album “Zos Kia Cultus”

Opeth – “The Funeral Portrait” from the album “Blackwater Park”

Mozart – Piano concerto No. 20, K. 466 (Allegro)

I’m supposed to tag five others now, but I think everyone who happens to read my shit has already done this. Hey Kenrick, feel free to give this a go if you get a few spare minutes.

Friday, August 12, 2005

Human Rights Crime My Foreskin

There are a lot of silly bastards bitching about silly shit these days, but the morons called “Intactivists” take the cake. Much like the founding fathers, I appreciate limited government. For example, I don’t want some government agency telling me how to brush my teeth. But now a group of lunatics is trying to mess with kids’ wieners.

That may sound strange, but let me explain. These so-called “Intactivists” are trying to make circumcision illegal. Not totally illegal, but their mission is to get laws passed that make it illegal to circumcise a baby. They think someone has to be 18 to decide if he wants a circumcision or not. That’s real cute and everything, but it’s a bit difficult to find an 18 year old man willing to put his wang on the chopping block.

Recently, it was announced at the Third International AIDS Society Conference on HIV Pathogenesis and Treatment in Brazil that circumcision may significantly reduce the risk of HIV infection. Hey, there’s a reason to get circumcised at birth. But no. Some assholes still have major problems with it. In fact, they call it a human rights crime.

Dr. George Denniston, president of the Seattle-based Doctors Opposing Circumcision had this to say: “It’s totally blasphemous to remove a normal body part from somebody. It totally denies that God made it.” That’s funny, because in the Bible God Himself says that circumcision is a good thing. There goes your argument jackass (read all about it in the Old Testament dickholes. Does the name Abraham ring a bell?).

I’ll be honest, I don’t miss my foreskin. When I was born, some Rabbi gave me a little wine, cut that shit off, and bandaged me up. No big deal. And I’m that much safer because of it. Plus my dick doesn’t look like an un-inflated balloon.

Then, these idiots compare male circumcision to female circumcision. What a joke. I’m no gynecologist, but based on what I learned in a few college Sociology classes, I can say that female circumcision can ruin a broad for life, whereas a male circumcision doesn’t affect a guy’s sexual prowess in any way. So for the record, female circumcision = bad; male circumcision = no big deal.

This really isn’t my area of expertise, but fuck barbed-wire if I don't make sense. Male circumcision can be beneficial to a guy, but some bored-ass toilet-lickers can’t just let it be. Their lives are so boring that they have to find something people are fine with and try to fuck it up. It’s like they don’t have anything better to do.

“Hey dear, my life is so unimportant and unfulfilling that I have to take on some kind of crazy, bullshit cause; you know, to make me feel like I can still satisfy a woman sexually. I’m not a limp-prick, I just have to stand up for something pointless and unnecessary to get it up”.

Morons. All I’m saying is if people want to circumcise their son shortly after birth, let them. Don’t make some stupid law forbidding it, because shit, when that kid grows up, reads the scientific findings, and decides he wants to be circumcised, it will be a horribly painful thing to have to endure. At least when you’re a baby, you don’t know a damn thing.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Random Floating Crap - The Orb Phenomenon Explained

Like many other people, I am interested in the paranormal. I think ghosts are damn interesting. I suppose I fall somewhere between believer and skeptic (duh). While I’ve seen some decent evidence of the paranormal, I’ve also seen a shitload of silly nonsense passed off as proof. When I think of illegitimate evidence of the paranormal, the first thing I think of is the orb phenomenon. Orbs are considered by some as a manifestation of some kind of ghostly activity, or at least some sort of energy being manifested. Others think orbs are nothing more than specs of dust, moisture, or some other particle catching the nearby light, often the flash from a camera, and showing up on film. I believe the latter orb explanation. Why? Because it’s just about as fucking obvious as anything could ever be.

Some people are apparently just so desperate they take a completely explainable and mundane occurrence and mentally warp it into some kind of incontrovertible visual evidence that ghosts exist. Here’s some advice: Knock it the fuck off! Paranormal investigators look crazy enough as it is without kooks like you running around dusty old houses at night claiming all the orbs in your photos are anything other than specs of dust.

In order to cut down on confusion once and for all, I have created this handy dandy list of shit that is NOT proof of paranormal activity. Next time you catch something on film you think is a ghost, check this list before you go public with it.

Orbs -











This shit is not proof of anything other than the existence of dust. Orbs can easily be recreated by shaking a dusty old carpet in a dark room and taking pictures of that area. Stop freaking out whenever there's a fucking spot in a picture you took. Unless an orb smacks you in the back of the head and has a conversation with you, I don't want to hear about it.

Freckles -







Similar to orbs, yet even less unusual. Some overeager ghosthunters out there might mistakenly catch some freckles on film and assume they were caused by a ghost. Truth is, melanin is a more likely culprit.

Headlights -








I know when you're all by yourself in the middle of the night, mind wandering, imagination on overdrive, it might be easy to mistake automobile headlights coming down the highway for some kind of glowing, hovering ghost energy. But before you freak out and start snapping photos, I suggest you listen for the sound of an engine. While ghosts have been known to make strange noises and speak from time to time, if you can't tell a set of headlights from a ghost, your head is too far up your ass.

Actual Ghost -
















People have captured convincing apparitions of film before. There have also been a lot of unconvincing apparitions caught on film. If you think you see an apparition make sure it's not just a guy in a costume. Ask yourself this question, "Is today Halloween?" If you answered yes, chances are most of the ghosts you're seeing are people in costume. It's a dead giveaway when they come to your door asking for candy. The next question you should ask yourself is, "Is there any reason someone would be playing a joke on me?" If so, it's probably not a real ghost, just your drunken uncle Fred who wants to trick you into thinking he's a ghost so he can scare you away and watch pay-per-view porn on your digital cable. Because apparitions that are difficult to debunk are so rare, chances are you will never capture a legitimate apparition on film. Feel free to get depressed about life and kill yourself.

Recent CD Purchases that Kick Ass

Here are a few CDs I got recently that totally kick ass. If you’re too much of a wuss to listen to these CDs, they’ll punch your nuts off. They ought to have warning labels on the CDs because this one guy I know wanted to listen to some Good Charlotte, but he pushed the wrong button on my CD player and some death metal played instead. The music literally punched his nuts off and he never recovered. He did learn a lesson though.

Hate Eternal – I Monarch
God Among Insects – World Wide Death
Bloodbath – Nightmares Made Flesh
Behemoth – Demigod
Myrkskog – Superior Massacre
Impaled – Death After Life

Friday, August 05, 2005

Superpowers I Wish I Had

Everyone wishes they had superpowers at one time or another. I remember a number of times being stuck in traffic wishing I had the power of flight. That way I could just fly to school instead of having to sit behind some gangsta (or is it spelled gangstah? I can never keep up with this shit) in a diamond encrusted SUV with spinning rims blasting 50 cent. It seems like every time I wished I could fly I would see David Copperfield on TV magically flying around like Peter Pan with a bad haircut and a sissy man-blouse. That made me want to kick his ass.

Anyway, having some kind of superpower would be great. Some people say if they were blessed with a super-human power they’d use it for the good of all mankind. Bullshit. Most people would use their powers to take revenge on the bullies that gave them wedgies in high-school. I’m not that vindictive though, and I was never picked on in high-school, so I’d use any special abilities I was given much more productively. It’s not that I don’t love revenge, but so far, I’ve never needed special powers to destroy my enemies (I hope you enjoyed the severed goat heads in your cars assholes).

Here’s a list of special powers I would love to have. There’s pretty much no chance I’ll ever have any of these powers, but if I ever get them you’ll probably see me on the news attacking Canada.

Telekinetic Cardiac Exploder: It would be so cool to be able to make someone’s heart explode like a Chihuahua in a microwave just by thinking it. The next time someone shitty like Brittney Spears was on TV bitching about how hard her life is, I’d maker her heart blow up. People all over the world would wonder what happened to her. “She was so healthy. How can this be?” And I’d be sitting on the couch laughing hysterically the whole time. I know I said I wouldn’t use my powers for the good of all mankind, but killing Brittney Spears is the one exception.

Super Strength: It would be nice to actually knock people’s heads off when I punch them. Knocking their teeth out just isn’t as fulfilling as it used to be.

Control Over Animals: How sweet would it be if all kinds of animals attacked an anti-fur protest. Throwing paint on a live Grizzly Bear wouldn’t save even the most ardent animal rights activist. Up yours with rusty nails PETA.

Instant Alcohol: If I could make whiskey appear magically out of thin air, I could die happily (and probably within a few days). Even the cheapest bottle of rot gut costs like ten bucks. What? Am I made out of money?

Violin Virtuoso: Playing violin is fucking hard. I figured since I’ve been playing bass and guitar for over ten years violin would be somewhat easy to learn. Damn, was I ever wrong. When I play “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” on my violin, it sounds like I’m skinning a cat with a potato peeler. It would just be cool to be able to play violin like Paganini for a change.

Laser Eyes: Why would it be sweet to shoot lasers out of my eyes? Because with my hands free, I could fire guns at the same time.

Flight/Levitation: Driving is a pain in the ass, and I’d rather fly. Plus, how many “If I can fly around the bar I get free drinks for the rest of the night” bets do you think I’d win. Tons. That’s how many.

Invincibility: I’ll just say this, getting shanked would be a lot less of a bummer.

I know there are a lot of other appealing powers to be had, but I don’t really need them. Some guys might want to be invisible, but I’m not a pervert. I don’t need to sneak around in women’s bathrooms for a cheap thrill. Time traveling powers might be ok, but I don’t need to go to the future to write a preachy dystopia, and I have a pretty good idea of how I’ll die already. Besides, if I were invincible and could play violin I would be more than happy.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Memo To The National Eating Disorders Association: Fuck You

Tonight at 10:00 a new show called “Starved” premiers on FX. Based on the commercials, the show appears to be a dark comedy about strange people and their strange eating/personality disorders; you know, funny shit like anorexia and bulimia. From what I’ve seen the show looks funny. In one commercial, the main character is eating food out of a garbage can. That alone is enough to make me watch the show at least once.

In today’s paper however, some people - people who haven’t even seen the show to my knowledge, are already calling for a “viewer and advertiser boycott” of “Starved.” This is a fine example of a bunch of pussies with liquid spines bitching about something they find offensive.

The National Eating Disorders Association is the liquid-spined group of pussies I just mentioned. These fuckbags are already calling the show “appalling and reprehensible.” Chances are, if these morons hate the show so much, I’ll love it. In fact, I wasn’t even planning on watching it but now I’m going to. Not only that, I’m going to watch the encore presentation of the show an hour later. Why? Because I hate these whiney groups of over-sensitive imbeciles who have to bitch about every measly, little thing that offends them.

“Boo-hoo-hoo. Someone in America is snickering at my silly little disorder. How can I possibly live another day? I simply cannot live while myself, and people like me are made fun of.”

Then jump off a building and get it over with you cowering bag of chicken shit. Just because you puke up your dinner every night doesn’t mean the rest of us should have to suffer. The only appalling thing in this situation is having to look at you skinny, emaciated morons with your protruding collarbones and yellow skin while you make a slobbering, teary-eyed spectacle of yourself.

Get the fuck over it. If you’re so offended by the show don’t watch it. Your stupid bitching, complaining, and protesting makes people like me hate people like you more than any “reprehensible” portrayal of your condition on a TV show ever could.

Don’t you jerk-asses have something better to do with your time than cause a fuss over a TV show? I don’t know; maybe something like picking through chunks of your own vomit to make sure you got all of that chocolate cake up. Either that, or eat a burger and shut the fuck up already.

Postscript: I just watched the first episode of “Starved.” The show really wasn’t very good. Actually, it was kind of lame. Interestingly enough, I don’t think the show was making fun of bulimics or anorexics at all. Sure, a few times there was a vomit joke or something, but at the end of the episode they showed all of the main characters at their weakest without a hint of humor all. Which pretty much made the anorexic/bulimic jokes earlier in the episode seem less funny and more pathetic; like these people have real problems and need real help. As you can imagine, I was not amused.

The fact is, if the idiots at The National Eating Disorders Association would have waited to see an episode of the show before they went batshit crazy with their boycott requests, maybe they would have actually appreciated the show. Well, probably not. Organizations like NEDA aren’t exactly known for being level-headed.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Chris Barnes vs. George Corpsegrinder Fisher

I’m about to piss some people off…that is, if anyone ever reads this.

In the metal community, there is an issue dividing fans of Cannibal Corpse. The issue: Chris Barnes or George “Corpsegrinder” Fisher; Chris Barnes being the original Cannibal Corpse vocalist, and Corpsegrinder being the replacement. A lot of people’s loyalty remains with Barnes, while many people prefer the new singer. I happen to think that Corpsegrinder is better than Barnes in almost every way. Don’t get me wrong, in the old days Barnes was great. But Barnes’ vocal abilities and mental state have gone down the crapper like day-old beer shit.

After leaving Cannibal Corpse, Barnes started Six Feet Under. I liked their first few albums, but even then Barnes’ voice was much weaker than it was even on the last Cannibal Corpse CD he appeared on.

After a while Barnes’ love of smoking weed became even more obvious because the music on the album “Warpath” was so fucking boring, you’d have to be stoned to get a kick out of it. I hate braindead, hippy stoners so the song “4:20” really pissed me off. If I wanted to listen to boring ass stoner metal, I’d buy a Bongzilla CD. And if I wanted to listen to some drooling imbecile pine over weed and the joys of getting high, I’d go to the surf shop and talk to some surfers. I swear “Warpath” was recorded so Barnes could get high all day and write off the weed as a business expense.

The worst part about all of this, is how shitty Barnes’ voice got. Although some of the music was cool on Six Feet Under’s next CD or two, Barnes’ singing was so bad there was no real point listening to them anymore. In a few years, Barnes went from being a respected death metal vocalist to a dreadlocked stoner with a voice even frog would be ashamed of.

His croaking scratchy voice is so half-ass and weak now that it’s difficult to believe the vocals on Cannibal Corpse’s “Eaten Back to Life” and Six Feet Under’s “Bringer of Blood” were done by the same person. Not to mention Barnes’ whiney lyrics on the Six Feet Under song “Amerika the Brutal.” It might just be me, but there’s something stupid about throwing in an anti-war protest song when the rest of the CD is about killing people. I guess it’s just an awkward transition from chanting “No war” to singing:

I only kill when I can't keep them four days and then I sleep them-
To the grave that's right bitch, uh huh
You ll know I'm there when I follow turn around I'm behind you
I'm in the shadows close, so close I've almost got you
Doomed to the end dead from the beginning
That's right hear what the fuck I'm saying
I can't think straight I'm gonna break, break down
You can't escape you re gonna die slow now
It's all a part of my master plan
Everyone ends up dead in the end
Hell yeah”
So while Barnes chokes on stupid lyrics like he’s got a toad dick in his throat, Corpsegrinder kicks ass on Cannibal Corpse’s CD “The Wretched Spawn.” Corpsegrinder has a great vocal range and goes from bludgeoning, guttural, vocal vomiting to intense, throat-ripping screams with ease.

Corpsegrinder is just better than Barnes. In the same way, I’ll take Cannibal Corpse over Six Feet Under any day. While I still listen to old Cannibal Corpse and feel somewhat nostalgic, I can’t ignore how shitty Barnes’ voice has gotten. I mean really, a woman with strep throat giving birth to a rhinoceros has a better singing voice than the current Chris Barnes. Now, I’m going to sit back and rock out to “The Wretched Spawn” and wait for the hate mail to roll in.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Say No to Elitist Food Fascism

The other night I had on some bullshit Travel Channel special about food. They went to several different restaurants where some crazy old bastard or pervy looking Midwesterner supposedly made the best *insert food here* in the world. Talk about delusions of grandeur.

A few people in particular pissed me off. There’s just something infuriating about some asshole taking food so seriously. There was one place in Chicago with hot dogs so great, the owner of the place gets upset if you call them hot dogs. Excuse the fuck out of me. I didn’t realize calling a rocket dog (or something equally stupid) a hot dog was enough to agitate a grown man. And heaven help you if you want to put ketchup on your rocket dog. At this particular establishment ketchup is strictly forbidden. Really? Just to warn you ahead of time, if I want ketchup on my hot dog, it will be physically impossible for you to stop me from using ketchup, and if you try I will kick your ass so severely your children will die.

Three separate restaurants forbade the use of ketchup on their specialty food. A burger place, the hot dog place, and a French fry place all strictly enforce anti-ketchup rules. What’s with all this anti-ketchup sentiment? What a bunch of dicks. If I ever wind up at one of these places, I’m bringing my own ketchup and putting it on everything. The customer is always right dickholes, and if you forget that I’ll remind you with a size 12 ½ leather boot suppository.

Then there were these hokey rednecks who all claimed to have the best barbecue. They all had a top secret barbecue sauce recipe too. Of course, none of these inbred yokels would divulge their secret sauce recipes. Every one of them had some secret ingredient they credited their sauce’s flavor to. When asked what that ingredient might be, the typical clich├ęd to death response was, “I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.” Just who the fuck thinks this tired response is still funny anyway?

I really got a kick out of the Philly Steak Sandwich debacle. Somewhere in Philadelphia there are two steak sandwich places in close proximity to one another and both claim to have the best Philly Cheesesteaks. These obnoxious sandwich peddlers are essentially feuding over this bullshit. Both places have fiercely loyal patrons who from time to time beat the shit out of each other. While I am amused by the senseless violence, I am still enraged by the presumptuous sandwich slingers.

One of the sandwich places takes their sandwich so seriously, if you don’t order your food exactly right, they send you to the back of the line and you have to try it again. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I am at a point in my life where I refuse to let some sweaty sandwich salesman tell me what to do. If you don’t like the way I order a sandwich, tough shit. I don’t like the way you smell, but I’m not going to force you to bathe regularly. If you look me in the eye and seriously tell me to go to the back of the line over some stupid terminology dispute, you’ll be lucky if I don’t hop over the counter and wail on you with a tire iron. You may have some uppity notion about the quality of your food, but I have a bad attitude and that shit doesn’t impress me.

Point is, taking food so seriously that you become a snob is gay. I’ll lick cigarette butts out of the gutter before I drop my head and submit to elitist food Fascism.

Living on the Edge

Right now, the same episode of King of the Hill is being played on two networks simultaneously. Because I live life to the fullest, I am watching both channels. I can’t help it; I’m a wild man.

Our Troops Have Great Guns

I just saw a video online of our badass troops filling terrorists full of .50 caliber holes in Iraq. Holy shit, our troops rule. And so do .50 caliber guns; particularly the Barrett M82A1. If you need a gun that will fire a bullet through the engine block of a semi-truck, this is your gun. The rifle itself weighs around 33 lbs and fires a .50 caliber (5.42 inches) round an astounding 2810 feet per second. That’s so damn cool I think I’m going to go salute an American flag.

I Don't Have a Problem

I’ve probably mentioned it before, but I drink a lot. I’ve been at it for so long I rarely think about how much I’m really drinking. Here’s a list of all the alcohol I consumed in the time period starting Friday evening an ending very early Monday morning.

1 64 oz. bottle of Evan Williams Whiskey
1 64 oz. bottle of Ten High Whiskey
1 750 ml bottle of Everclear 151
1 750 ml bottle of Jose Cuervo Tequila
3 two dollar bottles of wine
3 pints of beer at some microbrewery
At least a sixer of random beers I ended up with

My blood has become a high-gravity cocktail. In a few years, if I’m not dead, I’ll probably piss pure alcohol; and that condition will inevitably lead to the world’s strangest looking flamethrower.

Monday, August 01, 2005

How to Form a Famous Punk Band

Step 1.) You’re going to need a guitar. If you’re a “real punk” you’re a dirtbag and you can steal one. If you’re one of those wannabe punkers, you can get your mom to rent you a guitar. Just make sure you never take lessons or practice. If you do, you’ll be overqualified to write punk music.

Step 2.) Find some other angst-ridden youngsters with no talent and convince them to play drums and bass. Bonus points if you can get a drummer who’s willing to pierce his dick and play drums panstless.

Step 3.) Take the three chords you know and use them to write a whole album. And when I say three chords, I don’t mean three actual chords; I mean a fifth or bar-chord played on three different neck locations. For example, song 1 is played G-C-A-D and song 2 is played A-C-G-D. Slight variations on the same box chord progression make an entire record. It’s that simple. Since the song-writing process is so fucking simple, make sure to take drugs all the time to give yourself credibility. If you can’t deal with shooting heroin into your nutsack, just fake it. Your fans will buy it.

Step 4.) Make sure you wear punk-hip clothing when in public. Smoke a lot and don’t forget to sneer. Talk about anarchy even though you probably couldn’t spell it. Remember, swearing and safety pins prove to the world you’re an authentic punk. Dyed hair helps, as does an “I don’t give a shit” attitude even when some guy is fucking your ass like it’s a vagina. Also, get as many tacky star tattoos as possible.

Step 5.) Hang out at the mall all the time yet complain about consumerism and the lemming-like mentality of the general public. Make sure to hide the fact that you bought the last Pink album and “jam out” to it every night before bed.

Step 6.) Record a shitty demo at your friend’s house and pass it out. After a few weeks, other punks will be willing to blow you because you’re a punk rocker. The low quality of your demo makes your punkness more credible.

Step 7.) Play live shows from time to time. If you fuck up a song live, it’s ok. Just pretend you overdosed or something. Try to get booked to play concerts with a political agenda. Play at one of the Rock Against Bush concerts and call W. a fascist even though you don’t know anything about politics. Shit, for all you know America is a monarchy.

Step 8.) Whenever you get the chance to do an interview with the press, be completely incoherent and drugged up as possible. Your fans will think it’s cool. Mention the Sex Pistols and the Ramones.

Step 9.) Commit suicide because it will make you a legend. Don’t hesitate to suffer for your art.

That’s pretty much all you need to do to be a famous punker. Once you’re dead, your fans will talk about you like you were a god. There will be a thousand cover bands that dedicate their nightly set to your memory, and even more punker broads that claim they had sex with you before you died. Hollywood will probably make some gay movie about your band and your fans will visit your grave and dry-hump the six feet of dirt covering your puny body.

If this kind of life doesn’t appeal to you, you could always try to be a pretty-boy pop-punker. Blink 182 did it; it shouldn’t be that difficult to follow in their footsteps. After all, they were just lucky retards.

Another Goddamn Blackout

Shit man, I woke up this morning with severely bruised knuckles and a bloody shirt. I don’t remember shit from last night. Well, I do remember having such horrific heartburn I threw up bloody vomit, and I remember getting pissed because Home Movies wasn’t on Adult Swim. After that, nothing. I hope I didn’t kill someone because if I did, I’d like to remember it.