Sometimes, I get climb aboard the internet, take the reins and ride the bumpy road to comedic orgasm all over this filthy blog...and falter. It's not because I don't want to write...it's just a crisis of ego. I think my ideas suck a sweaty nut sack filled with suck ass ideas about sweaty nut sacks. Want to see?
MY SUPER AWESOME
Leading up the series finale I had this great post...about Breaking Bad posers. You know, because the finale was such a big deal...all of a sudden and everyone suddenly had shirts and hoodies and pace makers with "Heisenberg" slathered all over them. Unfortunately, I didn't make it to press in time, which kind of broke my heart. I liked that show and I had a whole string of witty comments about it's closing and those stupid people.
I was also hoping the insta-popularity of series would make my burgeoning meth empire more socially acceptable. Unfortunately, still frowned upon...though the blue meth is selling like hot-cakes.
My Super Awesome
Paul Walker Post!
I had mixed feelings when I heard Paul Walker died. They ranged from Who? to Who cares?. Mostly, those feelings stemmed from not knowing who he was until after his friend decided he needed a telephone pole in his car. Now that I know who he was...I still don't care. Don't get me wrong, I'm not heartless. Someone dying is a pretty wretched thing, it's just that, when it comes to celebrities dying, I, much like you, have no feelings about it one way or the other.
Sure, sure, lash out and say, "Like me?! You horrible, horrible person! How dare ye make light of this Earth shattering tragedy and also rope me into it as well! The world has lost a bright and shiny star, who will never again make movies with cars. Fast cars. Furious fast cars! Cry for him. Can't you even cry?! CRY!" To which I will respond with a plausible anecdote from your future:
You and a lumpy, home bound friend are sitting in silence amid the glow of yet another "Fast and Furious" marathon. You turn to your Cheeto dusted compatriot and say, "Where were you when Paul Walker died?". To which your unshowered friend will reply, "Who?". "Paul Walker!" you blurt in outrage, almost dropping your Paul Walker commemorative beer stein, "The blonde guy in this movie!", to which he'll respond, "Oh, I didn't know his name. He died? When did that happen? I didn't know. Hmp. Cheeto time."
My post relating to Paul Walker's death was going to be filled to the brim with "too soon" jokes about dying fastly and furiously, now, in retrospect, I feel those jokes were ill timed. Not in the "respectful grace period following such a thing" manner, lord no, but, due to catching a horrific bout of laziness. I had things to do, like...everything else in my life.
It seems that the time to toss humor at Paul Walker and his blazing end has, much like the man, passed on. All I can say is "DAMMIT!, ALL THOSE JOKES ABOUT FURIOUSLY FLAMING CAR DEATH WASTED!". Alas, no one has to shoulder that cold dead weight but me. I weep.
Quick, which one gay!
All of them.
When I heard the news about one of the fellas from "Duck Dynasty" muttering anti-gay rhetoric in some article somewhere, my immediate response was to fly to my computer and fire off a comedic romp of hatey hate against the Duck Dynasty clan. Two things stopped me, one, was lunch and two, my complete lack of shit giving, because come on...it's Duck Dynasty, people!
I like gay people. They throw amazing parties and they have an incredible sense of humor. Neither of which apply to anyone that listens to anything the people from Duck Dynasty have to say. The show is, so I've heard, about a bunch of guys making money from duck whistles...or beards, something like that. Having never taken the time from doing interesting things to watch the show, I couldn't say. Though, I'm willing to venture a guess and say they're backwoods hill folk as well.
Which, if you've ever known backwoods hill folk, you'd know that they aren't up on things like "racial equality" "gay rights" or "not eating things you run over with your car". Why anyone would give a damn about these people is beyond me, but, some people do and apparently, they shop at Walmart...as 90% of the clothes there are Duck Dynasty related.
I, for one, applaud the old bastard (which ever one he may be) for speaking his mind! He illustrates the point that you don't have to be smart, open minded or good-hearted to make money and get a show.
You just need a beard, a whistle that attracts defenseless animals, a willingness to attach Jesus to your hate message and the scruples to pimp your family members in front of national t.v. Which, for those of us with some of the qualities his ignorant ass lacks, means we can all be rich some day, with our own less shitty show...though hopefully with less beards.
Is it wrong that I hope one of those bearded freaks likes dick? Man, what a good t.v. day that will be. Praise JESUS!
I hope you enjoyed this blissful romp through my failure. Please allow picture of a girl bending over to console you, gentlemen...or ladies.
And for the ladies or gentlemen...this ripped headless guy.
Thank you for your time.