Friday, January 20, 2006
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
An Old Experiment
Here's another one of my old posts. What can I say? I like science and hate gothic kids.
This is a question that has been wracking my brain for quite some time. I've beaten up plenty of gothic kids in my day, but I never pay much attention when I'm hitting them. Honestly, it's like I'm on auto-pilot. For example, one day I was walking along, minding my own business, when I noticed a wimpy looking gothic kid in a long black trench coat. I thought nothing of it at first; I mean, I chuckled a bit when I saw him because he looked so fucking stupid, but other than that, it was no big deal.
As we passed each other he looked at me, bared his stick-on fangs and hissed at me. Without thinking, I instantly reacted by punching him right between the eyes. I just kept walking too, there was no need to stop. As I walked away, I heard him whimpering (that'll teach him to come out in the daytime I thought). I heard that, but I don't remember the sound he made when my fist connected with his face. Could it have been a squeak? That is what I plan on finding out.
TEST SUBJECT 1: A skinny gothic guy, with his head shaved except for his bangs, wearing a trench coat, and Marilyn Manson shirt with torn pants and knee high leather boots.I approached him, ready to aid science yet again. I had to make sure to listen carefully and not start laughing until a few seconds after I hit him. As we passed each other going in different directions, I extended my arm to neck-level, brutally clotheslining the wimpy goth right in the throat. RESULTS: There was a definite cracking sound, as well as a shocked gagging noise expelled from the test subject's throat. No obvious squeak was heard, but a clear squeak could have potentially been muffled by other sounds caused by the violent forearm to the throat. ANALYSIS: Unclear. More tests to follow.
TEST SUBJECT 2: A big, stupid-looking guy with black jeans, black t-shit, and black lipstick.For this test I decided to be more direct. I walked up to the lumbering, effeminate buffoon and kicked him in the shins. When he fell to the ground, I kicked him in the gut three times, followed by a quick stomp to the groin, just because I thought it would be funny. RESULTS: Many sounds were clear in this test. The most prevalent sound was crying and begging for mercy. I ignored all of that and tried to hear the more subtle sounds. I heard no squeaking, but there was some wheezing that could have been mistaken for squeaking to an untrained scientist. ANALYSIS: Unclear. The next test's results will provide a conclusive answer.
TEST SUBJECT 3: An ugly, fat broad, wearing a shitty black dress with fishnet sleaves, sporting a gnarly, dreadlocked mullet and thick black makeup.Considering this subject is a female, I decided to try hitting her open fisted. The ol' bitch slap beating for this tub-o-depressed-lard. I walked up to her smiling, and proceeded to repeatedly slap her across her fat face. The slapping sound combined with her pathetic whimpering was so loud that any squeaking present would have been inaudible. So I changed my attack by punching her several times in the stomach. RESULTS: When slapping the subject, if there was any squeaking, it was hidden by the loud smacking noise. While punching subject 3 in the stomach several noises similar to squeaking escaped her mouth, but it was later determined that noise was wheezing caused by the subject trying to catch the wind knocked out of her by my relentless blows to her gut.
ANALYSIS: After extensive testing, it would appear that goths do not squeak when you hit them.
There you have it. Another one of life's mysteries solved. Science has progressed and new knowledge is being spread. It is a great day for science, and a great day for me.
This is a question that has been wracking my brain for quite some time. I've beaten up plenty of gothic kids in my day, but I never pay much attention when I'm hitting them. Honestly, it's like I'm on auto-pilot. For example, one day I was walking along, minding my own business, when I noticed a wimpy looking gothic kid in a long black trench coat. I thought nothing of it at first; I mean, I chuckled a bit when I saw him because he looked so fucking stupid, but other than that, it was no big deal.
As we passed each other he looked at me, bared his stick-on fangs and hissed at me. Without thinking, I instantly reacted by punching him right between the eyes. I just kept walking too, there was no need to stop. As I walked away, I heard him whimpering (that'll teach him to come out in the daytime I thought). I heard that, but I don't remember the sound he made when my fist connected with his face. Could it have been a squeak? That is what I plan on finding out.
TEST SUBJECT 1: A skinny gothic guy, with his head shaved except for his bangs, wearing a trench coat, and Marilyn Manson shirt with torn pants and knee high leather boots.I approached him, ready to aid science yet again. I had to make sure to listen carefully and not start laughing until a few seconds after I hit him. As we passed each other going in different directions, I extended my arm to neck-level, brutally clotheslining the wimpy goth right in the throat. RESULTS: There was a definite cracking sound, as well as a shocked gagging noise expelled from the test subject's throat. No obvious squeak was heard, but a clear squeak could have potentially been muffled by other sounds caused by the violent forearm to the throat. ANALYSIS: Unclear. More tests to follow.
TEST SUBJECT 2: A big, stupid-looking guy with black jeans, black t-shit, and black lipstick.For this test I decided to be more direct. I walked up to the lumbering, effeminate buffoon and kicked him in the shins. When he fell to the ground, I kicked him in the gut three times, followed by a quick stomp to the groin, just because I thought it would be funny. RESULTS: Many sounds were clear in this test. The most prevalent sound was crying and begging for mercy. I ignored all of that and tried to hear the more subtle sounds. I heard no squeaking, but there was some wheezing that could have been mistaken for squeaking to an untrained scientist. ANALYSIS: Unclear. The next test's results will provide a conclusive answer.
TEST SUBJECT 3: An ugly, fat broad, wearing a shitty black dress with fishnet sleaves, sporting a gnarly, dreadlocked mullet and thick black makeup.Considering this subject is a female, I decided to try hitting her open fisted. The ol' bitch slap beating for this tub-o-depressed-lard. I walked up to her smiling, and proceeded to repeatedly slap her across her fat face. The slapping sound combined with her pathetic whimpering was so loud that any squeaking present would have been inaudible. So I changed my attack by punching her several times in the stomach. RESULTS: When slapping the subject, if there was any squeaking, it was hidden by the loud smacking noise. While punching subject 3 in the stomach several noises similar to squeaking escaped her mouth, but it was later determined that noise was wheezing caused by the subject trying to catch the wind knocked out of her by my relentless blows to her gut.
ANALYSIS: After extensive testing, it would appear that goths do not squeak when you hit them.
There you have it. Another one of life's mysteries solved. Science has progressed and new knowledge is being spread. It is a great day for science, and a great day for me.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Another from the Vault
Here is yet another old post because I'm too busy to write something new. This is pretty damn old. In fact, I wrote this long before I was on blogspot.com or geocities or any other website. I posted it around the seven internets way back to see what people would think - big surprise, they were fucking pissed. I got a lot of hate mail for this one. Interestingly enough, I got more hate mail when I called the Deftones nu-metal. Go figure. Anyway, here it is (completely un-edited even though the errors torment me like splinters under my fingernails). One of my favorites - Helpful Hints for Aspiring Stigmatists.
Want to be a Saint? Want to be considered a living miracle? Are you incredibly stupid? If so, the stigmata is for you. Stigmata is defined as bodily marks, sores, or sensations of pain corresponding in location to the crucifixion wounds of Jesus. Stigmatists often suffer open, bloody wounds that cause them pain and inconvenience at the very least. It's ok though because it is supposedly a blessing from God. Before you go on your way to becoming a stigmatist, I'd like to give you a few helpful hints that will make the experience all the more believable and enjoyable.
STEP 1: COMPLETELY DISREGARD HISTORICAL ACCURACY-- The most common stigmatic appearance is of holes, or bloody marks through the palm of the hand where Jesus was nailed to the cross. Historical accounts have shown that people were not nailed to the cross by their palms, the nail was driven between the small bones of the wrist, the radial and ulna bones, because the hand cannot support the weight of a human body. So remember, when you first decide to become a stigmatist, poke holes in your hand. Were you to be historically accurate, it would be obvious that you were a fake.
STEP 2: BE A GOOD FUCKING LIAR-- It is a common misconception that the stigmata must be visual. Well, if you're too much of a pussy to put holes in yourself, I have good news for you. If you're a really good faker, you don't even have to have visual proof of the wounds of Christ. In 1373, St. Catherine of Sienna claimed to feel the pain of Christ's crucifixion in her hands and feet but never bled or showed physical signs of the wounds. Thousands of people bought it; they called it an invisible stigmata. If you're going to try this, you should practice lying into a mirror. Practice saying things like, "ow", "ouch", and "Oh, the pain, the wonderful blessed pain". Make it convincing.
STEP 3: HAVE A VAGINA-- Throughout history, there have been more female stigmatists than male stigmatists. At one point, for every male stigmatist, there were seven female stigmatists. Most people chalk this up to the fact that women are more open to spiritual activity because they are more in touch with their emotions. I think the truth is obvious. Women are good liars (See STEP 2). They also tend to crave attention much more than men. What better way to get attention than to walk around with bloody, open wounds. When Britney Spears' popularity wanes, she could easily follow St. Catherine's example to raise her level of popularity.
STEP 4: TAKE A SHIT LOAD OF DRUGS FIRST-- In many cases of stigmata, the wounds of Christ appear on the stigmatist after they experience states of religious ecstacy or hysteria. So, if you're not a good enough liar to fake a seizure, you still have a shot at becoming a world famous stigmatist. Simply ingest a shit-load of PCP, LSD, Angel Dust, or any combination of these or other crazy drugs. This should lead to some sort of bizarre behavior which idiots will believe is religious hysteria. When you start coming down from the zany high, start staring at your hands and feet saying, "Oh man, does this look like a nail-hole to you guys".
STEP 5: SURROUND YOURSELF WITH RELIGIOUS IDIOTS, ESP. CATHOLICS-- Catholics are usually the people to receive or at least revere the stigmata. They like to endure pain and suffering for God. They are also prone to believing any stupid thing they see. Hell, you should get an idea of how stupid they are just based on the fact that they listen to the pope. Anyway, Catholicism is like an incubator for suckers, so head to a catholic church and start making friends.
STEP 6: ACT REALLY PIOUS-- When you're a stigmatist, you have to act really holy and afflicted. Try to look really tired and feeble but still make lots of public appearances where you bless everyone in sight. Try to sound kind of deep or cryptic when you speak. Constantly mention your visions of Christ's death on the cross, catholics love that.
STEP 7: BE VERY THOROUGH-- If you want to be really convincing, you have to make your wounds look really good. The catholic church is really anal about this kind of thing and they'll check your wounds for things like puss, and signs of healing. Your wounds must look fresh at all times. This requires being really deicated because you have to keep re-injuring yourself. It might even require driving a nail through your hands every morning. Make sure there is a lot of blood too; a blood-free wound screams fraud.
STEP 8: TIE UP THE LOOSE ENDS-- If you can pull off the stigmata for the rest of your life, you're pretty much set; BUT, the catholic church will probably check your stigmata when you're dead because they don't trust people very easily. One way to deal with this last test, is to let your wounds heal completely near the end of your life (do whatever it takes to minimize scarring). You'll have to hide your hands, feet, side etc. but if you've been a stigmatist long enough people will believe you have Christ's wounds even if they don't see them every time you make an appearance. After your death, when the catholic church checks your hands and feet and see that there is no stigmata, you'll be golden. They assume that after death, the stigmata is taken off of the individual because he/she can no longer use it (Like taking expensive jewlery off of a corpse).
Congratulations, you're an asshole who spent his/her entire life lying to people for the attention and adoration you think you deserve. I hope you feel good about yourself you dick head, you've perpetuated a disgusting farse that should have died a long time ago. Thanks to people like you, the catholic church can easily continue its corrupt mission, enslaving and robbing millions of people too stupid to see the ridiculousness of the situation. You're a bastard.
Want to be a Saint? Want to be considered a living miracle? Are you incredibly stupid? If so, the stigmata is for you. Stigmata is defined as bodily marks, sores, or sensations of pain corresponding in location to the crucifixion wounds of Jesus. Stigmatists often suffer open, bloody wounds that cause them pain and inconvenience at the very least. It's ok though because it is supposedly a blessing from God. Before you go on your way to becoming a stigmatist, I'd like to give you a few helpful hints that will make the experience all the more believable and enjoyable.
STEP 1: COMPLETELY DISREGARD HISTORICAL ACCURACY-- The most common stigmatic appearance is of holes, or bloody marks through the palm of the hand where Jesus was nailed to the cross. Historical accounts have shown that people were not nailed to the cross by their palms, the nail was driven between the small bones of the wrist, the radial and ulna bones, because the hand cannot support the weight of a human body. So remember, when you first decide to become a stigmatist, poke holes in your hand. Were you to be historically accurate, it would be obvious that you were a fake.
STEP 2: BE A GOOD FUCKING LIAR-- It is a common misconception that the stigmata must be visual. Well, if you're too much of a pussy to put holes in yourself, I have good news for you. If you're a really good faker, you don't even have to have visual proof of the wounds of Christ. In 1373, St. Catherine of Sienna claimed to feel the pain of Christ's crucifixion in her hands and feet but never bled or showed physical signs of the wounds. Thousands of people bought it; they called it an invisible stigmata. If you're going to try this, you should practice lying into a mirror. Practice saying things like, "ow", "ouch", and "Oh, the pain, the wonderful blessed pain". Make it convincing.
STEP 3: HAVE A VAGINA-- Throughout history, there have been more female stigmatists than male stigmatists. At one point, for every male stigmatist, there were seven female stigmatists. Most people chalk this up to the fact that women are more open to spiritual activity because they are more in touch with their emotions. I think the truth is obvious. Women are good liars (See STEP 2). They also tend to crave attention much more than men. What better way to get attention than to walk around with bloody, open wounds. When Britney Spears' popularity wanes, she could easily follow St. Catherine's example to raise her level of popularity.
STEP 4: TAKE A SHIT LOAD OF DRUGS FIRST-- In many cases of stigmata, the wounds of Christ appear on the stigmatist after they experience states of religious ecstacy or hysteria. So, if you're not a good enough liar to fake a seizure, you still have a shot at becoming a world famous stigmatist. Simply ingest a shit-load of PCP, LSD, Angel Dust, or any combination of these or other crazy drugs. This should lead to some sort of bizarre behavior which idiots will believe is religious hysteria. When you start coming down from the zany high, start staring at your hands and feet saying, "Oh man, does this look like a nail-hole to you guys".
STEP 5: SURROUND YOURSELF WITH RELIGIOUS IDIOTS, ESP. CATHOLICS-- Catholics are usually the people to receive or at least revere the stigmata. They like to endure pain and suffering for God. They are also prone to believing any stupid thing they see. Hell, you should get an idea of how stupid they are just based on the fact that they listen to the pope. Anyway, Catholicism is like an incubator for suckers, so head to a catholic church and start making friends.
STEP 6: ACT REALLY PIOUS-- When you're a stigmatist, you have to act really holy and afflicted. Try to look really tired and feeble but still make lots of public appearances where you bless everyone in sight. Try to sound kind of deep or cryptic when you speak. Constantly mention your visions of Christ's death on the cross, catholics love that.
STEP 7: BE VERY THOROUGH-- If you want to be really convincing, you have to make your wounds look really good. The catholic church is really anal about this kind of thing and they'll check your wounds for things like puss, and signs of healing. Your wounds must look fresh at all times. This requires being really deicated because you have to keep re-injuring yourself. It might even require driving a nail through your hands every morning. Make sure there is a lot of blood too; a blood-free wound screams fraud.
STEP 8: TIE UP THE LOOSE ENDS-- If you can pull off the stigmata for the rest of your life, you're pretty much set; BUT, the catholic church will probably check your stigmata when you're dead because they don't trust people very easily. One way to deal with this last test, is to let your wounds heal completely near the end of your life (do whatever it takes to minimize scarring). You'll have to hide your hands, feet, side etc. but if you've been a stigmatist long enough people will believe you have Christ's wounds even if they don't see them every time you make an appearance. After your death, when the catholic church checks your hands and feet and see that there is no stigmata, you'll be golden. They assume that after death, the stigmata is taken off of the individual because he/she can no longer use it (Like taking expensive jewlery off of a corpse).
Congratulations, you're an asshole who spent his/her entire life lying to people for the attention and adoration you think you deserve. I hope you feel good about yourself you dick head, you've perpetuated a disgusting farse that should have died a long time ago. Thanks to people like you, the catholic church can easily continue its corrupt mission, enslaving and robbing millions of people too stupid to see the ridiculousness of the situation. You're a bastard.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
The Return of Foods I Won't Eat
Due to my busy schedule as of late, I haven't really had much time to post anything new. So, until I have time to write something new, I'll post something from the ol' archives from time to time to give my kindly readers something to look at. There's a whole mess of shit from back then that most people have never read, and it's probably a good thing - I get enough death threats as it is. Anyway, back by popular demand (of one person), please enjoy the following --
Foods I Won’t Eat
There are a lot of disgusting foods out there. Oftentimes swill is passed off as a delicacy, but I’m not dumb enough to fall for that shit. Somewhere in the world I’m sure there are people that consider fermented goat dingleberries the finest of cuisine. Sorry you back-asswards retards, I’m not playing along. Food is often a cultural thing, for example that one African tribe that eats mud, and most likely my taste will offend some people. If your culture includes eating something nasty, national relations take second place to good taste.
And then there’s the whole trend factor. Sometimes high society deems something gross as the newest hot food for people in the know. I don’t care how much chicken tumors are lauded as haute cuisine, in reality it’s medical waste and you can’t do anything to convince me that I should eat it. If I go to a restaurant and they want to charge me ungodly amounts of money for some food that was choked down on Fear Factor the night before, I’m going to call bullshit even if some uppity dick-weed turns his pointy nose up at me. Here’s some shit I’ll never eat because I have enough sense not to ingest garbage.
Caviar: This shit has been considered fine cuisine for years. I’ve never understood why people willingly pay good money for fish eggs. Have you tasted this shit? It tastes and smells like fish pussy (or whatever genitals those slimy bastards have). Hey buddy, smear this filth on a cracker and enjoy. Who started this trend? This stuff is near excrement and it costs more than my life is worth. I’m insulted.
Sushi: I’ve got nothing against the Japanese. They’re a very hardworking people that will kill themselves if they fart in front of their boss. I like some Japanese food and I love sake, but I hate sushi. Sushi is ultra hip in California. It’s all the rage to head to a sushi bar to spend tons of money on raw fish. Sorry if I prefer fish sticks, but there’s something about eating raw fish that turns my stomach.
Roe: Again, fish eggs. Salmon roe, mullet roe, uni, it’s all gross. In this day and age, don’t we have enough shit to eat that we needn’t resort to eating roe?
Soft Roe: Fish jizz. There’s no excuse for eating this crap if you know what it is.
Tripe: Not that tripe is particularly bad tasting, but I had it in menudo one drunken night and it was absolutely flavorless. I just can’t see eating something so weird if it doesn’t at least taste great. Save yourself some time and just gnaw on some rubber tubing.
Escargot: When I was younger I knew a kid who would lick snails for attention. He was a dirty little sumbitch and I cannot justify spending money on a food that weird kids lick to make friends.
Rocky Mountain Oysters: Enjoy your bull nads Liberace, I am heterosexual and therefore do not need to put testicles in my mouth.
Foie Gras: French for bloated goose liver. It’s rare that I see a liver in a worse state than my own, and I certainly don’t want to eat one.
Whale Tongue: I’ve never eaten this before and I never will. All I know is it was so heinous it actually made one of the tasters on Iron Chef uncomfortable. When something can nauseate a taster on Iron Chef, I know I shouldn’t eat it.
Balut (Balot): A fertilized egg with a partially developed duckling. How this ever became a legitimate food I’ll never know. All I can say at this point is, fucking foreigners.
Bugs: People eat all kinds of varmints but I refuse to. I’m not eating crickets, caterpillars, spiders, scorpions, roaches, worms, beetles, or any other bullshit. That’s frog food. People say stupid shit like “It tastes like chicken.” My response - eat a fucking chicken asshead. Resorting to eating bugs is fine if you have no choice, but I can go to the corner and get a burger for 99 cents; looks like Jimminy Cricket is going to live another day.
Roadkill: This food is fine for some people and I have no problem with that. When your name is Cletus and you’re married to your cousin, roadkill is good eats. When you’re an educated city boy, roadkill is pretty much out of the question. I’m not saying I’m better than rednecks, I just prefer food killed with an air hammer over food killed by a pickup truck.
Nasty Cheese: I’ve tasted Limburger and I’m ashamed that I have. Eating Limburger cheese is like licking the armpit of the fattest, nastiest, sweatiest, French chick you can find. Some people might go for that but I am disgusted by it. I’ve had more appetizing crud growing on the underside of my nutsack. I even saw a cheese on TV that has maggots in it. Yeah, that’s the cheese I want, the one with little shitbags writhing around in it. If you don’t have enough sense to know that eating something with maggots all over it is gross, you might as well just kill yourself now because sooner or later you’re probably going to eat something so horrible it will kill you.
Blood Anything: People eat blood pudding, blood sausage, and there are even people that drink cow blood fresh from the cow (You’ll have to excuse them, they’re African). I’d rather lick Scott Weiland’s trail marks than eat any of that rubbish.
There you have it; a list of foods that I hate. If you want to impress me at a dinner party (I’ll be honest here, I’ve never been invited to a dinner party) make sure you have plenty of booze. Chances are I wouldn’t eat anyway. To impress me, have a couple of 40s of Old English in the fridge – that’s a classy drink, much better than fish DNA. After that, have some Evan Williams whiskey or Everclear 151 handy and I’ll be impressed. If you want to impress the hell out of me, get ahold of some authentic, high gravity, moonshine that’s reasonably safe (I don’t want to go blind thanks).
Foods I Won’t Eat
There are a lot of disgusting foods out there. Oftentimes swill is passed off as a delicacy, but I’m not dumb enough to fall for that shit. Somewhere in the world I’m sure there are people that consider fermented goat dingleberries the finest of cuisine. Sorry you back-asswards retards, I’m not playing along. Food is often a cultural thing, for example that one African tribe that eats mud, and most likely my taste will offend some people. If your culture includes eating something nasty, national relations take second place to good taste.
And then there’s the whole trend factor. Sometimes high society deems something gross as the newest hot food for people in the know. I don’t care how much chicken tumors are lauded as haute cuisine, in reality it’s medical waste and you can’t do anything to convince me that I should eat it. If I go to a restaurant and they want to charge me ungodly amounts of money for some food that was choked down on Fear Factor the night before, I’m going to call bullshit even if some uppity dick-weed turns his pointy nose up at me. Here’s some shit I’ll never eat because I have enough sense not to ingest garbage.
Caviar: This shit has been considered fine cuisine for years. I’ve never understood why people willingly pay good money for fish eggs. Have you tasted this shit? It tastes and smells like fish pussy (or whatever genitals those slimy bastards have). Hey buddy, smear this filth on a cracker and enjoy. Who started this trend? This stuff is near excrement and it costs more than my life is worth. I’m insulted.
Sushi: I’ve got nothing against the Japanese. They’re a very hardworking people that will kill themselves if they fart in front of their boss. I like some Japanese food and I love sake, but I hate sushi. Sushi is ultra hip in California. It’s all the rage to head to a sushi bar to spend tons of money on raw fish. Sorry if I prefer fish sticks, but there’s something about eating raw fish that turns my stomach.
Roe: Again, fish eggs. Salmon roe, mullet roe, uni, it’s all gross. In this day and age, don’t we have enough shit to eat that we needn’t resort to eating roe?
Soft Roe: Fish jizz. There’s no excuse for eating this crap if you know what it is.
Tripe: Not that tripe is particularly bad tasting, but I had it in menudo one drunken night and it was absolutely flavorless. I just can’t see eating something so weird if it doesn’t at least taste great. Save yourself some time and just gnaw on some rubber tubing.
Escargot: When I was younger I knew a kid who would lick snails for attention. He was a dirty little sumbitch and I cannot justify spending money on a food that weird kids lick to make friends.
Rocky Mountain Oysters: Enjoy your bull nads Liberace, I am heterosexual and therefore do not need to put testicles in my mouth.
Foie Gras: French for bloated goose liver. It’s rare that I see a liver in a worse state than my own, and I certainly don’t want to eat one.
Whale Tongue: I’ve never eaten this before and I never will. All I know is it was so heinous it actually made one of the tasters on Iron Chef uncomfortable. When something can nauseate a taster on Iron Chef, I know I shouldn’t eat it.
Balut (Balot): A fertilized egg with a partially developed duckling. How this ever became a legitimate food I’ll never know. All I can say at this point is, fucking foreigners.
Bugs: People eat all kinds of varmints but I refuse to. I’m not eating crickets, caterpillars, spiders, scorpions, roaches, worms, beetles, or any other bullshit. That’s frog food. People say stupid shit like “It tastes like chicken.” My response - eat a fucking chicken asshead. Resorting to eating bugs is fine if you have no choice, but I can go to the corner and get a burger for 99 cents; looks like Jimminy Cricket is going to live another day.
Roadkill: This food is fine for some people and I have no problem with that. When your name is Cletus and you’re married to your cousin, roadkill is good eats. When you’re an educated city boy, roadkill is pretty much out of the question. I’m not saying I’m better than rednecks, I just prefer food killed with an air hammer over food killed by a pickup truck.
Nasty Cheese: I’ve tasted Limburger and I’m ashamed that I have. Eating Limburger cheese is like licking the armpit of the fattest, nastiest, sweatiest, French chick you can find. Some people might go for that but I am disgusted by it. I’ve had more appetizing crud growing on the underside of my nutsack. I even saw a cheese on TV that has maggots in it. Yeah, that’s the cheese I want, the one with little shitbags writhing around in it. If you don’t have enough sense to know that eating something with maggots all over it is gross, you might as well just kill yourself now because sooner or later you’re probably going to eat something so horrible it will kill you.
Blood Anything: People eat blood pudding, blood sausage, and there are even people that drink cow blood fresh from the cow (You’ll have to excuse them, they’re African). I’d rather lick Scott Weiland’s trail marks than eat any of that rubbish.
There you have it; a list of foods that I hate. If you want to impress me at a dinner party (I’ll be honest here, I’ve never been invited to a dinner party) make sure you have plenty of booze. Chances are I wouldn’t eat anyway. To impress me, have a couple of 40s of Old English in the fridge – that’s a classy drink, much better than fish DNA. After that, have some Evan Williams whiskey or Everclear 151 handy and I’ll be impressed. If you want to impress the hell out of me, get ahold of some authentic, high gravity, moonshine that’s reasonably safe (I don’t want to go blind thanks).
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