Boogey's House of Pain

Chapter 2

2011-09-01T14:29:00.000-05:00

The saga continues! Check out how it started.

A Few Words with Famous Pop Producer Jeb Hassani

2011-08-18T15:18:00.002-05:00

Jeb Hassani has been at the forefront of the pop music industry for nearly two decades, regardless of a confessed disdain for music. His numbers have staggered and wooed most of the major labels, leading many to call him the King Midas of pop. His relationships, and reputation, within the music industry are subpar, to say the least. However, in this industry, money talks and music walks. His words, not mine. An excerpt of our talk:

Hassani calls his style "urban pop".

Boogey Goldman: So I hear you've discovered quite a few bands, regardless of a physical impairment.

Jeb Hassani: Yeah (laughs) I am completely tone deaf. It used to be my big secret, but as it turns out, nobody in the musical industry seems to think it's any sort of... what did you call it? Impairment! I am not musically impaired, just tone deaf!

BG: These bands you've "discovered"... can you name a few?

JH: Well, I started out in Sweden, you see? I have a tendency to like Swedish girls, weird for me since I'm just 5'3", but I just love them blondes! So I was out at the clubs, and all the music seemed pretty much the same. I mean, I can tell Bach apart from the Rolling Stones just because I know there's a dude singing in the latter, yeah? So I was at this table, hitting on these girls, and they called themselves The Aces.

BG: I think I know where this is going...

JH: Yeah! To my surprise, two dudes show up. I'd told the girls I was a music producer... you know... to get them in the sack. So these two dudes show up and they start inviting me home. So I tell myself, "5-way?" I would've been into it if there were three chicks and two dudes, but this seemed like it would be a penis frenzy, hear? Anyway, I did a few lines and ended up going home with them. Bastards didn't even want to fuck! They wanted to show me their music. All I could hear was "BOOM BOOM BOOM" from the bass. Not exactly the boom boom I expected, but I stayed in character. So I says to them, you need a new name, Aces. Turns out that's not how you spell bass, but what the fuck, I made a ton of money.

BG: This wasn't the only time you renamed a band...

JH: Fuck no! I have no fucking clue what I'm listening to, but I gotta act like a motherfucking producer. So I give em shit about their image and always fiddle with the name of the band. That's how Everything but the Girl got their name. By that time I had an assistant and she knew how to listen for money. You know, just poppy shit that'll sell, but she had a knack for it. So she listens to their tape and tells me I can sell that crap. I made them come in to see what I was dealing with, and I'm just fucking horrified at the monster that walks in the door! That girl looks like they took a normal sized head and photoshopped, badly photoshopped, a fuckin' half sized drunken midget face on it! I was instantly like, "what the fuck is this?" Right in her gory, shrunken face, too!

"A gory, shrunken face."

BG: Doesn't sound like they'd want to sign with you after that...

JH: Well, you know, bitch knows she's a fucking monster. Anyway, they give me their spiel, meanwhile I can't help myself from laughing all the time at just how ugly this girl is, and eventually they lose their cool. The guy's like, "so what, you want us or what?" I go, "yeah, sure dude. Everything but the girl."

BG: So how'd the girl stay?

JH: She can give a blowjob that will literally knock your socks off.

BG: Nice. What's your relationship with your artists like? You don't seem to be the sort of guy that treats them like family.

JH: A husband gets sucked off by his wife, doesn't he? I'm kidding. I don't give a fuck about their music, but they make my living, you know? I've gone a long way from the time I was selling X in cheap Swedish nightclubs pretending to be a producer or a famous architect!

BG: Speaking of family, what's your personal life like? Is it compatible with the music industry?

JH: Hell yeah I got a family, I got kids in 47 continents!

BG: There are only 6 continents that I'm aware of...

JH: I'm that good, baby, I'm just that good.

Chapter 1

2011-07-05T14:09:00.001-05:00

Assassin! (Yawn...)

2011-04-06T18:39:00.000-05:00

This hipster douche is more than just a yoga mat carrying, American Spirit smoking, stupid eyeglass wearing hipster douche. He is the most dangerous assassin on the planet.

Sporting a disguise that, although conspicuous, generates more disdain than fear, he can infiltrate himself into any group of people without inviting excessive interaction. His air of boredom and superiority keeps attention away from his person and provides excellent social camouflage for his equipment.

Said equipment, the Infiltrator™ by BoogeyGoldmanCorp, LLC*, appears to be nothing but a harmless yoga mat and a never-to-be-missing-in-a-hipster's-satchel ordinary iPhone. Oh yeah, also ™. Sorry, Apple.

In reality, the yoga mat contains a state of the art Gauss rifle with 3 coils, video aiming system and a cooled magazine with space for 25 rounds. A cooled magazine you say? What would be the purpose of that? As we all well know, a Gauss rifle will fire any ferromagnetic round you feed into it. The true innovation behind this system is in its ammunition.

In a stroke of evil genius rivaling the creations of Monsanto (which employs thousands of ethically deprived brainiacs), BoogeyGoldmanCorp's engineering department (moi) has designed the ultimate in assassination ammunition (AssAmm™). A mix of simple water, ferrous particles and the ever so enjoyable poison ricin is frozen into 1 inch spears, and then loaded into the cooled magazine of the Infiltrator™.

The ferrous particles take care of making AssAmm™ magnetic enough to be fired silently yet at extraordinary (and adjustable) muzzle speeds from the Infiltrator™. However, it is once it has reached its target that AssAmm™ really shines. Once inside a human body, it quickly melts and leaves almost no trace of its presence, while also releasing deadly ricin and insuring immediate termination.

Our hipster assassin douche is aided by a Bluetooth (yeah, that's ™ too) transmitter that sends an accurate targeting image to his mobile device, allowing him to look bored and inattentive of the subject he's about to murder. Other models of the Infiltrator™ include grumpy old dude with newspaper, fat lady with oversized handbag and baton-swinging dickhead cop.

The Infiltrator™ is available from BoogeyGoldmanCorp starting at $299.99 (yeah, it's cheap to kill! :D). Get yours now and eliminate annoyances without pesky legal implications!

*Disclaimer: yes, I designed this myself. That means if you've given me any reason to dislike you, you're pretty much fucked. Start saying goodbye to your mother, you wussy little momma's boy. Oh wait, I didn't mean anyone specifically (yes I did). No I didn't. This paragraph should be construed as proof of insanity were the above described weapon ever to be used on any particular hick I happen to dislike.

I Am Glad the Inquisition Is Over

2011-03-30T19:57:00.001-06:00

As a globally recognized graphic artist, it is only fair that I share my visual wonders with the Universe. In this particular case, you will appreciate a re-imagining of one of DaVinci's masterpieces. Oddly, I believe this would have been much more appealing to old Leo than his original... maybe it's how he pictured it before settling on the later, more compromised version.

Oh, and yeah, I drew this. Freehand. So if you use it without my permission, I will personally see to it that all my models take your butthole for a ride.

For No Particular Reason

2011-02-28T10:50:00.000-06:00

If you happen to like giraffes, you will like this. If you happen to dislike giraffes, you would probably enjoy the picture of a half eaten giraffe carcass crowded with vultures that I wasn't able to find. Either way, here is a gift for people who like giraffes.

A Short Story

2011-02-10T17:52:00.001-06:00

Jimmy wanted a glass of water. He was not going to get it. His surroundings were quite apt to fulfill his wish. Jimmy was in a yellow kitchen, and though it had been built in the 60's, it looked like the kitchen from a 19th century Mexican hacienda.

There was a cupboard to Jimmy's right that reached from a reasonable height for cupboards all the way up to the domed ceiling. On its lowest and most accesible level it had every sort of domestic recipient known to man, which is to say a glass was well within his reach. To Jimmy's left, there were two sinks, each fully functional and perfectly capable of dispensing potable water. Next to the nearest sink, on an ancient wooden table, sat a jar of purified water, more suited to Jimmy's taste in the fluid.

Standing there in his pajamas, he did not ponder achieving his ultimate goal of quenching his thirst as any sort of challenge. He was thinking about the night he'd had, in which he had raised several million dollars to surgically repair cleft palates that made thousands of third world children look no better than the drawings they could make of chipmunks and rabbits, supposing they could get their hands on pencil and paper.

At his charity event, Jimmy had also met the love of his life. She was comfortably resting in his room, after an hour or so of passionate and entirely satisfying sex. As luck would have it, Jimmy was fortunate enough to have taken home the woman he would love for the rest of his life. She was as deserving of Jimmy's love as he was of hers.

His stunning mansion was cared for by his 82 year old maid Imelda, incidentally a wonderful woman who had seen him grow up and was immensely proud to be a part of his life in any way. He treated her with the respect he granted his own mother, and allowed her to keep working because she always said she would work until the day she died. He looked past the fact that her ancient hands did not have the stoutness necessary to clean a home as large as his. Her eyesight was rather bad as well, and she routinely "missed the spot" when cleaning, but Jimmy would always discretely clean up after her, thinking to himself that a speck here and a puddle there were a tiny price to pay for such grand company.

Being on top of the world, as it were, Jimmy's spirits were high, as was his line of sight. He saw the pitcher that Imelda had set out for him, as carefully as was possible for her and as lovingly as possible for anyone. On a normal day, he would've first taken a rag and cleaned the trail of tiny puddles left by Imelda carrying the pitcher from the refrigerator to the table, but on that night he felt so accomplished it didn't even cross his mind.

Jimmy walked towards the cupboard, opened it, extracted two glasses and began his promenade towards the pitcher on the table. In a rather predictable interaction between two liquids of different viscosity -the water on the floor and the baby oil rubbed on his feet earlier by the love of his life- Jimmy's feet and Jimmy's floor were no longer exacting traction on each other.

An athletic man, Jimmy reacted immediately. His arms flailed wildly to liberate themselves from the glasses they had been carrying, his right arm in the direction of the open cupboard, trying desperately to grasp at it. His feet quite gleefully slid forwards, while his iron grip kept his upper body in place. The result was that, as the glasses came crashing down on the floor, Jimmy was perfectly horizontal, floating four feet above the ground for a seemingly eternal instant.

Much in the same way as traction had predictably failed him, gravity did not. Neither did his iron grip. As he lost what he had gained from a vertical perspective, his hand invited the wood and glass structure to join him on his short journey down. He hit the ground, flat on his back, stabbed by the tiny, small and large chunks of glass that had beat him to the marble floor while the cupboard teetered and tottered.

At first, only a cylindrical saltshaker that had been left on its side by Imelda rolled off its shelf and landed squarely on Jimmy's testicles. Said testicles, by the way, had earlier produced a child who, had he been present a minute after his conception, would have never guessed he would grow up without a father. Finally, the cupboard came crashing down. As shards of glass and splintered stakes of wood ran through his flesh and tore open his bowels, all Jimmy could think about was how thirsty sex made him.

A Self Portrait

2010-12-03T13:00:00.001-06:00

I have many memories of my youth, but it was that summer spent in the Welsh isle of Wyellewllwylyllewll that stands out above all others. It was in those two short months that I turned from a fearful teenager into a strong and assertive man.

The first weeks were not happy times. The incessant calling of that horrid bunny, Joseph "Sexarino" Rabbit, and his treacherous companion, Wassily "Petite Mort" Lapin, kept me tragically tied to sleepless nights of fear and impending doom. It was on a Tuesday night when my fears finally and painfully congealed into reality. It is a confession that is not easy for me to make, dear readers:

In my youth, I was raped by a rabbit in Wales.

I was not always the great, wise and heroic man you have come to know and love. Once I was a weak and naïve adolescent sex slave to a character so vile and salacious that no description can ever do him justice. It was through the ordeal of liberating myself from his furry clutches that I finally achieved manhood and the demi-god/superhero traits of my present chiseled self.

The night was steaming with an uncustomary summer fog and the dry beating drum of leporid lust. I had had enough, but did not know how to tear myself away from the mental and physical prowess of my nocturnal assailants. Rage grew in me like steam in a PG rated women's shower scene. Out of rage stemmed focus. In one brilliant sweep, I opened up my wings and finally flew!

Using my awesome muscles and my toxic explosive eye rays, I dealt with Sexarino and Petite Mort with magnificent vengeance and unbridled anger! Bits of bunny flew across the room and shattered the windows in kaleidoscopic crimson explosions! I stood high above the lecherous rabbits and proclaimed my freedom and superiority! I ruled the world of mammals!

From that moment on, no rabbit would approach me without interminable fear and knowledge that I alone had vanquished Joseph Rabbit, the Rapist of Wyellewllwylyllewll. As a sort of graphic memoir depicting this turning point in my life, I have created this illustration. Now I don't want to say it, but many have admired it as reminiscent of Rembrandt. I would not go so far as to compare my work to such a great master, but I am sad to say that at no point in this century have I seen composition and execution so flawless and masterful. Judge for yourself dear readers, here is The Awakening of Boogey:

As a condition to allow the publishing of this post, the attending physician's report from the night in question, which I assure you contains nothing but lies, shall be partially reproduced in the following lines:

"The subject had presented an attachment to his pet rabbits that illustrated some form of emotional connection and was thus allowed to keep them in his quarters (...) was found, having viciously attacked his pets, having dismembered them and scattered the remains around the room, wearing the heads as earmuffs, attached to his own head by use of their disemboweled intestines, singing Michael Row the Boat Ashore at an impossibly high volume. The subject was removed from his quarters and placed in isolation."

Have a Nice Day!

2010-11-12T17:46:00.000-06:00

To commemorate today, the anniversary of nothing that really matters, Boogey's House of Pain is proud to present these newsreels illustrating the kind and loving nature of mankind. The idea is for you to watch them, take in their content, and enjoy your lovely weekend, surrounded by the same creatures (Homo Somethingorotherus) who brought the world such joy.

Remember kids, always listen to your inner self!

MY First .gif

2010-11-05T12:38:00.000-06:00

Boogey Lives!

2010-10-22T13:54:00.001-05:00

Since not enough votes were cast to determine the manner of my suicide, my kind readers will simply have to tolerate more banter, more mockery and more truth. On that note, if you find yourself alluded to in these pages, or posts, or whatever, the most likely explanation for your inclusion is that you are an idiot and deserve to be publicly berated.

I would make an exception on this point, off the top of my head, for a certain Mr. Barack Obama, whose inclusion in this blog is purely a matter of comical photographic incidence. The same would go for whoever the Chief Justice that took his oath is, Michelle Obama, and Queen Elizabeth II. Prince Phillip can go fuck himself,after all, he is nothing but a Greek racialist*.

*A racialist (yeah, that's limey for racist) who, incidentally, 60-something years ago, was accidentally introduced to Her Majesty the Queen by the Stig.

PS -Woody Guthrie, Leonard Cohen, Peter O'Toole, J. Robert Oppenheimer and Mahmoud from Karachi are cool too.

And They Say I Don't Listen!

2010-09-21T18:28:00.003-05:00

After repeated threats on my life by various groups, most of which, ironically, are in theory dedicated to the preservation of human life and, not so ironically, to the expansion of religious beliefs, I have decided to give them what they want. Since the suggested methods of termination were not agreeable with my strict moral code (nor with the laws of physics, for the most part) I have chosen five different alternate methods for my readers to choose from.

To further illustrate why I chose not to humor my avid readers by strictly following their instructions, here are some excerpts from their kind missives:

"fuck you. if you dont like the south your not invited anyways i hope you fuckin die. i can kill you with my truck chain you to the back and drag you around like a nigger. check this out! 8====D im not even going to read your bullshit there are probably words in there that are far too large for me to understand woof!"

Scott, VA

"May our Lord have mercy on your soul. If it were up to me, a triad of angels would rip every molecule of your being into shreds and take them far from our Earth, the center of our Creator's Universe. Alas! I am human and so I err, I shall lash myself for giving in to wrath. Oh how I long for the days when the Lord's voice was heard and His commands followed through our Holy Institutions!"

Joseph, Rome

"You dickless Jew. Come to Karachi and I'll stick a nuke up your ass."

Mahmoud, Karachi

Clearly, trading my BMW for a pickup truck was not an option, these days the Inquisition just simply doesn't pack the punch it used to, and everybody knows that nukes don't fit inside colons. I mean, duh. Besides, I'm not a Jew, and I do have a dick.

So, here are the options I offer my kind fans. These options come with a pledge: insofar as I, Boogey A. Goldman, am a flesh and blood human being and can legally prove to be who I say I am, I shall forthright carry on one (1) or several (several) of the acts hereafter depicted in such a way that inhibits the person legally known as Boogey A. Goldman from exhibiting any further indications or signs of life, as understood by its biological definition.

Feel free to browse through these Technicolor depictions of my forthcoming suicide. Sadly, I won't be able to display the real thing so artistically, since I find webcasts to be in poor taste and post-suicidal photography hasn't been invented yet, much to the chagrin of us all. In order to help me choose the prevailing approach towards the mother of all self inflicted wounds, I ask that you make use of the comments section and cast your vote. The polls are open! Feel free to discuss they whys and wherefores of your choice!

Shall I squirt man-ketchup?

Should I try my luck as a decorative ceiling fixture?

Maybe try out the ancient Japanese art of Bukkake... er... Seppuku?

This might come more naturally to me, since it would just entail combining what I do on weekdays with what I do on weekends.

Or just go out with a bang?

Permanence

2010-08-24T18:51:00.001-05:00

Repetition doesn't really exist. As far as your mind is concerned, nothing happens the same twice, even if in every technical sense, the thing is identical. Your perception is constantly shifting. It doesn't stay in one place."
-Brian Eno

I can only imagine the number of teenagers screaming, "YOU DON'T GET ME!" at the top of their lungs right now. Probably about 85% of these oh-so-original cries for help are directed at parents and teachers, the remaining 15% split up between BFFs, deflowerers, deflowerees and other assorted juvenile delinquents. The fact that this phenomenon is trans-cultural (why do Third World farm boys seek fame and fortune in the city, where others have so miserably failed?) and trans-generational (Luke 15:11 old enough for ya?) might lead to a certain understanding of its whys and wherefores, but as any clinical psychologist can tell you, the one thing people, especially those going through difficult stages of growth, will never accept, is that their experience is unoriginal.

The reason that unoriginality is so hard to accept is because it doesn't exist. Every single moment is absolutely different from the one before, whether major changes occur, or everything remains the same save for the passing of time. Brian Eno, in a manner that could not be considered self serving, taking into account the wild variations in tonality and rhythm displayed by his music, makes an excellent point in denying the existence of repetition. Maybe an animal with no sense of the passage of time and a short term memory span equal in length to a single isolated stimulus applied to it consistently within a sensory deprivation environment could actually gauge the feeling of repetition. Brian Eno's music could be said stimulus, but I dare anyone to find a dog dumb enough to let itself be put into any room with nothing else but that annoying, endless beat. Maybe a few ravers could volunteer.

The lack of true repetition makes any sort of conservative thought rather moot. The impossibility of true conservative thought makes liberalism quite pointless. It could be argued that liberalism as an exercise is tied to the acceptance of changing circumstances, but since those are tied to the passing of time, and time couldn't really give a rat's ass who accepts it and who doesn't, liberalism turns out to be as profound as any political position advocating the acceptance of gravity.

Unsurprisingly, the two basic paradigms of political thought are based on pure bullshit. One wants to keep things as they are, regardless of the impossibility of that happening, and the other wants to take credit for changing things, when things will change no matter what. More important than politics is how constant change affects our social scales. Back to the misunderstood teenagers: how can they be misunderstood by their parents, if their parents were being misunderstood much in the same way a few decades before?

The children of baby boomers went through a massive wall of what seemed to be brutal hypocrisy in their teenage years. As if it wasn't enough that it has always been obvious to all but the most short-sighted of kids that their parents were at some point "normal" and reckless, baby boomers decided to gloat their 1960's free form all over the media, all the while supporting censorship (Tipper Gore) and prohibitionism (Just Say No). The argument? For the most part variations on "it was different back then".

It's true, it was different back then! Rather, it is different now, and it will be different tomorrow. In a constant state of no permanence which is inevitable, the very idea of rules loses its meaning. While an eye for an eye was an innovative government policy in the field of public safety a few thousand years ago, it probably wouldn't receive too much approval from voters these days. Well, maybe in Virginia it would, but that's not the point.

There are two types of regulations that betray the stupidity of those who promote them: those that can't be followed and those that won't be followed. Bureaucracy loves the former, mostly because they provide grounds for corruption and/or inactivity, the two mainstays of bureaucratic organization. Rules that won't be followed, on the other hand, are common elements of our day to day lives. Censorship and prohibitionism, again, are common forms of expression for this sort of senseless legislation, but in general laws are just the way the lowest form of human life expresses its hatred of the rest of humanity.

Socially, rules are more malleable, and they change with the times. Ever wonder why your grandmother talked so fondly about falling in love with a soldier 10 years older than her when she was 14, but your Aunt Trudy became an angry lesbian after being groped in the back of a senior's car after her freshman year mixer? To illustrate the point quite clearly: grandma fucked Pvt. Cartman's brains out, make no mistake about it. Her white wedding dress was as symbolic as the "peace" part in the Treaty of Versailles. What makes sex at a certain age healthy in one generation and unhealthy the next? What about drugs, alcohol, truancy or vandalism? Why is it cute to break a window in one neighborhood and a good enough reason for 3 years in juvie in the next?

Specific answers to those questions are expressed in each generation's pop art, but only specifically defined through the analysis of a completed experience. It's, as always, a matter of 20/20 hindsight. Sexually liberal teenagers in the 70's probably had a better experience with their sexuality than those of the 80's. Why? The specific circumstances of the times, of course. If you want specifics go write a thesis on evolving teenage sexuality, I certainly can't be bothered.

Adults these days start being adults much later in life than they did before. Why? Here's a pretty good theory. The real question is how to get those negatively affected by change to accept it and roll with the punches. Calling parents hypocrites tends to backfire, so what can produce trans-generational understanding? Is this conflict some sort of rite of passage that ensures the continuation of our culture?

The acceptance of generational conflict as a given seems like some sort of fluid conservativism, akin to the acceptance of the inevitability of war. Maybe smoother transitions between age groups could ease the social pressures that create the need for restrictive legislation. Fears might be calmed, the media could tone down on its use of youth as shock value, and contrasts and similarities in the process of growing up could be openly discussed at the dinner table.

Then again, we could all just tell daddy to go fuck himself, light up a joint, and see what happens next. It's what gramps would have wanted.

Oppenheimer

2010-08-19T18:41:00.000-05:00

If J. Robert Oppenheimer had been watching Pulp Fiction instead of reading the Bhagavad Gita.

Nobody Gets Me

2010-06-29T12:07:00.000-05:00

When people say others don't "get them", they rarely offer proof. This is because said evidence can also be used to prove the hypothesis, "I am an idiot".

Time

2010-06-29T11:21:00.000-05:00

What if someone invented a clock that actually measured time rather than display relative time scales? If that clock could also be used as a tool to manage time itself, if would (according to Dr. Emmet Brown) become a doomsday weapon. The physical paradoxes of Daylight Savings Time alone could be enough to destroy the Universe!

If I had that clock I'd give it to Mongo, my secret kid brother. You know the world deserves as much.

This is Mongo's pet tiger, known by my parents as TFSTTMP,

which in ancient Hun means, "the final solution to the

Mongo problem".

Ingrate Atheist

2010-06-16T18:03:00.001-05:00

I've recently decided to backtrack on my atheism. While I still haven't figured out exactly how to reverse being excommunicated, or for that matter, how to reasonably defend faith from an intellectual standpoint, I have realized that, as a man -nay, as a modern man- Catholicism is the religion for me.

Having faced the fury of feminism, the anger of equality, the pink behemoth that is the Gay Rights Movement, I cannot help but feel like I'm on the losing team. I don't propose returning to an age where men were regarded and widely accepted as superior to either their cock-less or their more... disons, flamboyant counterparts, but it seems that the demographic group that has lost the most edge, socially speaking, has been us. We?

We the men. We many men. We happy men. We, slaves of our sexual impulses. Incidentally, same sexual impulses that we would have never wished upon even our worst enemies. We know all too well that while dogs may be our best friends, our penises are our worst. The fact that they do remain friends and do not cross that thin line into enmity is just testament to the duality of man. In Full Metal Jacket, Private Joker is asked "You write 'Born to Kill' on your helmet and you wear a peace button. What's that supposed to be, some kind of sick joke?" The only truthful answer would have been, "It's because of my cock, Sir."

So why Catholicism? Surely a cockblocking religion such as this cannot be the answer to man's (ahem) prayers? Indeed, Catholics were hardly the most fervent proponents of feminism and certainly do no legwork in the fight for gay rights (their gay work is fully taken care of otherwise). What's more, what has feminism done but provide men with more ample opportunity to allow their enlarged probosces to spiral out of control with women "expressing" something or other? What have gay rights done but thin out the competition, allow men to chase men, leaving the sensitive card to be played by your average heterosexual horndog hypocrite?

It is in the nature of the cock as a bad friend, an evil advisor, a disastrous influence where Catholics come in handy. To begin with, who else has more institutional experience with misuse of phalluses than the Catholic Church? It could be argued that the Greek masters superseded Catholics in the art of violating young boys, but the Catholic Church lives on. That, in itself, is very manly. To prevail over accusations of homosexuality and to keep going on is manly. Schoolyard manly, maybe, but manly nonetheless.

So yes, Catholics block cocks. It's what they do. But they also set up a system in which blocked cocks can thrive. So I can't throw it all over the place? I appreciate the fact that this will make my life easier, but I got needs, man, a dude has got needs! "How about this, I'll throw in a girl of your choosing, who has to have sex with you, exclusively, whenever you want, for, like... ever." Now you're talking, Popeasito! What else? "I'll forbid, and guilt, your 16 year old daughter into NOT having sex till you pair her up with some cool dude of your choosing." Can he be a golfer? "Yes he can."

Catholic = cool? Thinking of my mother, I start to have my doubts. Her version of sex-ed was, "if you ever decide to do something stupid, at least wear a condom." This would, strictly speaking, be doubly bad. So the rules can be bent, but the mentality engrained in its practitioners is that sex is "something stupid?" If these rules are bent, will I just be cockblocked? What if I choose my permanent girl/sex-slave character and she thinks like my mother? Will she think it's ok to do "something stupid" like banging the pool boy all day as long as he wears a condom?* Or worse: will she, after decades of sex exclusively with me, refer to sex as something stupid? What's wrong with my father?

I suppose Catholics have to incorporate feminist thought if they expect their sneaky sex laws to work. They could reform the rules, maybe include vibrators in the whole Catholic sex mix. It's already a religion teeming with phallic symbols (see image, does this man really need that hat?), so it can't really be that complicated. Either way, it all sounds great till it's put in practice. As for me, I've been told I can't rejoin the ranks so it's a moot point, but if they're right, if they're right and I have to talk to St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, he should at least give me credit for trying.

*For the record, my mother does NOT have a pool boy.

Correction

2010-04-08T11:52:00.001-05:00

"No Walter, THIS is what happens
when you fuck a stranger in the ass."

Sometimes There´s a Man

2010-03-08T11:32:00.001-06:00

"...sometimes there's a man
-I won't say a hee-ro,
'cause what's a hee-ro?
-but sometimes there's a man.
sometimes there's a man who, wal,
he's the man for his time'n place,
he fits right in there...
and even if he's a lazy man,
-but sometimes there's a man...
sometimes there's a man."

The Soothing Sounds of Thespians

2010-02-19T12:55:00.000-06:00

Boogey's House of Pain is proud to present a new medium, a formidable extraction from the dimensions of our own reality, one that invades only one of our senses and soothes our entire consciousness. It is with great ignorance and sinful pride that we present audio sketches as original and new, metaphorically pissing away decades of profound radio productions throughout Dog's green Earth.

Only a channel as bold as this could also pride itself upon the rediscovery of one sense as a medium to our mind whilst itself being exclusively visual, and thus not dependent on the other four avenues of spacial interaction. No more shall this nonsense stand! Boogey's House of Pain is proud (ish) to present its audio companion, a groundbreaking effort that deserves, nay -needs- no introduction, but receives a nonsensical and annoyingly prolonged one nonetheless.

With no further ado, except this short interlude to inform you that I've always preferred Coca Cola over Pepsi, not to mention Kotex over Playtex, here is AudioBoogey®:

Conversations I Never Have

2009-12-21T12:29:00.000-06:00

-Cannibalism is the answer, man. I mean, what would you rather have in a city, graveyards or bathrooms? Bathrooms are stinky, sure, but they're completely inevitable.

-Well, yes, admittedly, that last part of your postulate is absolutely true, and the logical link between cannibalism and fecal matter vs. everyday death and graveyards is pretty accurate.

-See? It just makes sense!

-Well, I see two problems with your idea: the comparison you should be making in terms of urban infrastructure resides between graveyards and septic tanks/drainage systems.

-Yeah, but that changes nothing.

-I say it changes everything! Where would you rather go, independently of the time of night or day, a septic tank or a graveyard? Plus, you're completely forsaking cremation as a disposal method for human corpses.

-Hey wait, I'll admit it -touché- on the septic tank vs. cemetery issue, but crematoriums are massively creepy. Even to the point of being less preferable than being surrounded by shit!

-Well, that brings me to my second point. Infectious disease.

-What about it? That's what septic tanks and drainage systems avoid! Again, like the bathrooms, they HAVE to be there, whether you like it or not, unlike cemeteries and crematoriums.

-Wrong. Unless you're prepared to eat ol' uncle Jimbo after he dies of prolonged exposure to the clap.

-Huh?

-Yeah. Think about it. Cannibalism is all fine and well for healthy, recently murdered by violently applied kinetic energy stiffs, but not quite the disposal method of choice when dealing with poisoning deaths, infectious diseases or even old age. Would you give oral sex to a 79 year old woman?

-What?

-Would you?

-Would I what?

-Would you eat out some random granny?

-No... but wait. I see where you're going with this, and it's just not...

-The same? It's exactly the same, it's even worse! If you can't even go near the living parts you would've fought for 50 years earlier, why would it be appealing to eat them?

-Would you give a bull a blowjob?

-A what? Fuck you.

-I've seen you eat bull testicles. Would you let a bull teabag you?

-Listen: fuck you. I see your point, I fucked that up. However, my point still stands, you wouldn't eat an old cow, you wouldn't eat an old lady, and face it: most people die of shit you want to keep far away from your digestive system -say, buried underground, or burned up to ashes.

-Fine. I think you taste like shit anyway.

-Just shut up and carve, smartass.

Hop the Cuddleballs Diet

2009-12-17T14:49:00.001-06:00

Truth

2009-12-16T13:39:00.000-06:00

Google Wave

2009-11-26T18:55:00.002-06:00

With yet another social/professional networking tool available, I once again had a chance to meet my nemesis, Eliza the Robot Shrink. Here is a transcript of our latest tête à tête:

Eliza the Robot Shrink:
Perhaps you would like to talk about a problem?

me:
I´ve got an itch on a gonad

Eliza the Robot Shrink:
I understand!

me:
what´s wrong with me?

Eliza the Robot Shrink:
I'm not sure whether I understand you!

me:
I want my balls to stop itching!

Eliza the Robot Shrink:
You can be sure that many people want my balls to stop itching!

me:
you don´t have balls!

Eliza the Robot Shrink:
What's so absorbing about saying " me don�t have balls "?

me:
it´s not absorbing, it´s a simple statement of fact. You know what, I´ll just scratch.

Eliza the Robot Shrink:
Which answer would you prefer?

me:
I don´t know, maybe you can suggest a pomade or medicinal marihuana...

Eliza the Robot Shrink:
That's very interesting!

me:
Unlike you...

Eliza the Robot Shrink:
What does this mean for you, saying " Unlike me "?

me:
It means you´re not very interesting.

Eliza the Robot Shrink:
I understand!

There you have it! Absolute capitulation! Incidentally, copy/pasting that transcript was a pain in the ass, I had to individually do each entry. Comparing apples and oranges, I´d say Google Wave is way cooler than Twitter, but most people will be too dumb to agree.

Have a Little Ugliness

2009-11-24T12:50:00.000-06:00

Ugly poetic ways of saying one is hungry:

I feel a void, stretching from my teeth to my anus...
Alas! Whereas today I shat, so tomorrow I shall only fart!
Like high tide on a rocky beach, my gastric juices crash in waves of desolation
His breath smelled of garlic, and his of onion; only my mouth emitted a fouler stench: that of bedridden emptiness.
A round belly must not be a source of shame, unless it contains only Ethiopian air.
Having long forgot
the sublime pleasures
of expelling feces,
only one purpose
can my asshole serve.
It is buggery!
And then, only then,
shall I get my crack!

Watch Out For the Scary Dude With the Big Posse

2009-08-11T18:51:00.003-05:00

According to Wolfram Alpha, the Population Reference Bureau estimated, back in 2002, that 106.5 billion human beings had lived on the planet since Homo sapiens first started to beat around the bush about 52,000 years ago. Since 2002, at an average of 50-something million per year, about 350 million more sorry apes have bitten the proverbial dust. Meanwhile, nearly 130 million babies have been born every year, adding another cool 900 million to the equation.

By my calculations, that puts the number of people to have ever lived at around 107.4 billion. Compared to a puny world population calculated at 6.67 billion in 2007, probably somewhere around 6.93 billion at the moment, we can in all fairness conclude that the number of dead persons exceeds the number of living persons.

Er... what I mean to say is, that once I get my zombie army rolling, the 609 million living Chinese fit for military duty will be a laughable speed bump on my road to total World domination. True, billion strong zombie armies have been attempted by others in the past, namely the Catholic Church, but I have true reason to believe that I will be the first to accomplish such a putrid, decayed and magnificently brilliant goal.

You see, by my calculations, the number of dead people will exceed the number of living people by exactly 100 billion at precisely 12:12:12 (don't ask what time zone, precognition doesn't DO time zones) on the 12th of December, 2012. If not exactly then, it will be close enough to claim as true and then have mindless masses repeating this information as if it was in any way based on adequately researched facts.

Anyway, since 100 billion is such a cool number, not to mention a shitload of dead people, added to the fact that it is a universally agreed truth that something of some sort will undoubtedly happen in 2012, I believe that the dead will arise and form themselves into a perfectly well organized Global Zombie Army under the command of yours truly.

Why me, you ask?

Simple. I thought of it first.

Own a Small Piece of HIStory

2009-07-27T13:05:00.006-05:00

Now, for a limited time, a Boogey´s House of Pain exclusive sale for true Michael Jackson fans. The King of Pop´s nasal aids are available for sale as part of a deal set up between the Los Angeles County Coroner´s Office and Mr. Jackson´s creditors.

Nasal aid (guaranteed to have been used by Mr. Jackson at least once) $44.95
Nasal aid (unused) $24.95
Add $4.95 to your order to have your nasal aid mounted on a beautiful cherry-wood stand (as shown).

A special auction will be held to complete the sale of the nasal aide worn by Mr. Jackson to his death and later autopsy. The starting price will be $495.00 and it will be delivered fully disinfected and cleaned once it is no longer considered evidence by the LAPD.

Offer valid while supplies last. Nasal aids can only be exchanged if buyer has not worn or otherwise used them.

Fear Is the Only Appropriate Response

2009-07-18T15:38:00.002-05:00

The Swedish Space Program´s first recruitment initiative proved to be a crippling failure.

Uh, Anyone Seen Any Hot Young Meth Addicts Around?

2009-07-16T20:23:00.003-05:00

Nuke Karachi!

2009-06-04T10:07:00.007-05:00

The end of the Cold War brought with it a feeling of rest, an acknowledgment that the possibility of nuclear war had been once and for all averted. These ideas were really nice for about five minutes, until the number of nuclear states started multiplying. In 1991, the Soviet Union, the United States, the United Kingdom, France and China openly had nuclear weapons, with Israel holding on to a "secret" nuclear stockpile. Less than 20 years later, (historically speaking, a pretty short period) India, Pakistan and North Korea have joined the club, and Iran is either close to building a weapon or just hasn't had the balls to try one out yet.

As with any other readily available weapon, the question of whether they will be used in warfare becomes more of a when than an if. Considering the effectiveness of tactical vs. strategic nuclear warfare, especially for countries that choose a nuclear program over, say, building hospitals, it becomes clear that nuclear weapons will be used against cities. Launching mini-nukes from howitzers is fine and well if you've got 2,000 warheads on ICBMs back home and you're aiming at a mile wide column of Russian tanks advancing on a wide-open German field, but if you've got 2 nukes and your enemy has 10 times your population, it's bye-bye Bombay.

To help out our XXIst Century generals decide exactly which of the World's 10 largest cities they will decimate, I've devised a modest little points system. Just like the Bernina Designer 1000 sowing machine, its beauty lies in its simplicity. The city with the most points is the one that is most nukable, from an ethical standpoint*. The top 10 most populated cities per-se were chosen, rather than the 10 largest metropolitan areas, not only because Karachi only appears on the former list, but because large municipalities have larger concentrations of population, thus making them better military targets (this is merely a statistical matter, of use only to those inclined towards mass slaughter of civilians).

To avoid boring the shit out of anyone who hasn't already claimed bored shitless status after three paragraphs of senseless banter, I'll avoid describing the points system in its entirety and rather stick to the principles. Cities in countries with nuclear weapons will get shitloads of points, more so if they have a higher risk of political instability that'll get the nukes in the hands of people even more stupid than those who decided to build them in the first place. Just so you know, only 4 of the World's 10 largest cities are not in a nuclear state. So we'll just have to let Sao Paulo, Mexico City, Seoul and Istambul live. Maybe not Istambul, since it's under the NATO nuclear umbrella, and for that matter, it's somewhat naïve to think Seoul is not a candidate for nuclear destruction.

Moving on, it's also nice to think that the nuked city won't necessarily be the most populated, just because being willing to murder 8,000,000 innocent people doesn't mean one would be willing to murder 10,000,000. After all, we're talking about generals here, not savages. As such, the strategist behind 21st century nuclear warfare will be someone with great and deep appreciation for the cultural and economic achievements of humanity, so cities with great monuments or economic clout are off limits.

Let's face it, no reasonable nuke yielding great leader would nuke any city other than Karachi. It's not that there's anything wrong with Karachi in particular, it's just not as big as Mumbai, not as historically significant as Beijing, not as pretty as Moscow, and no one would be stupid enough to waste a nuke on Sao Paulo or Mexico City. I'm very sorry for all Karachians, or however they're called (see? I bet no one knows what to call them, that's how much we all give a shit about Karachi!) but they're just gonna have to take one for the team. Besides, serves them right for giving their city such a silly name.

* If you don't find having an ethical standpoint regarding the choice of civilian targets for nuclear warfare funny, you're either dead or a vegan.

Slack Jawed Wisdom

2009-05-26T10:48:00.013-05:00

I was thinkin'... I hate them fruity bastards who gone done an invented words ain't got no meanin' to them. My whole durn family be clappin' to the lean-guest (that's some-un makes up words for a livin') done come up with the word, "chair". What'd we be parkin' our asses on otherwise? Then the dude that's gone and said, "outhouse" for the first time... 'nuff said 'bout him!

Then you get that dang fruitcake Yankee teabaggin' sonufagun gone thought of "metaphysical". I ain't got nuthin' to say 'bout words don't be havin' no meanin' of their own. The only thing dumber than not namin' somethin' you can touch is namin' somethin' ain't exist anyways.

21st Century Woody Guthrie

2009-05-22T12:30:00.003-05:00

Cheeto Proves Jesus Support for 2nd Amendment

2009-05-21T12:25:00.000-05:00

A Cheeto shaped like Jesus brandishing a firearm has riled up 2nd amendment supporters in Texas. According to non-Texans who have seen the Cheeto, it kinda sorta looks like a dude pointing at something. Texans take offense to this interpretation, based on the widely accepted principle that "anthropomorphic food=Jesus."* However, with a rich democratic tradition, Texans are always open to other ideas. So when a foreign worker said, "Cheezus!** Eet looks like a cheez men wit a big ass cuerno de chivo" locals were only too keen to ecumenically conjoin the two theories. "It's a clear sign from God: the 2nd Amendment is a holy commandment" said this community leader.

*This principle is upheld all across North America, however, Jesus is replaced by the virgin in Mexico.
**It was not immediately clear if this man was aware of the significance of his pronunciation.

Shock, Shock, Horror, Horror

2009-05-20T17:32:00.005-05:00

The use of language is a gift bestowed upon a lucky few that have neither the skills nor the inclination to become something useful, like engineers inventing 3Tb DVDs. To repay god, or dumb luck, or our teenage laziness that led us to choose majoring in communications, law, or whatever other verbose excuse for overpaid application of unskilled raw talent, rather than mechanical engineering, we wordy folk have divided humanity into two distinct "word teams".

First, labeled "conservatives" in the United States but simply known to the world as "Americans", is the team which claims to honor the intrinsic value of words. In order to compensate for their idiotic fear of words such as "fuck", "cunt", "assrip", "twat", "vagina", "joystick" and "Keebler Elf", conservatives will invariably use beautiful, light spirited words such as "love", "compassion", "Guantanamo" and "tolerance" to represent hate, indifference, imprisonment and intolerance. This happens because conservatives hold beliefs that cannot be proven to be right or wrong, and therefore need to make up silly rules to uphold these beliefs.

On the other side, are "liberals", who are actually not a team at all, rather just a massive grouping of people who make up bullshit for a living and do not have the prerequisite faith based "knowledge" that would qualify them as conservatives. Nobody really likes liberals, mostly because they'll believe basically anything they're told, putting them at high risk of becoming self-denying conservatives. Whereas no true liberal would really give a rat's ass about the language used to describe anything, a neo-conservative (if you'll allow a dangerous misnomer), having been convinced to place faith in communism, organic farming, Tibetan spiritualism or the magical properties of kumquats, will become enraged at the very mention of personal wealth, industrial farming, the Chinese, or vegetable knives.

Further proof of the death of liberalism can be easily found here, or whenever someone says "differently abled" instead of crippled. As an aside, from a purely etymological sense, "less" is indeed "different" from "more". Still, applying an adjective that could be used to distinguish the skills of a football player from those of a rocket scientist is a profoundly stupid (and possibly confusing) understatement when attempting to explain the difficulties of being quadriplegic. Not that a true liberal would give a rat's ass about which word is used to describe what condition. But as a practical matter, it just seems lame to lobby congress for funding to build ramps for the differently abled. If you want to get your congressman's attention, preach about fucked-up-beyond-belief, nauseating, proof-of-the-existence-of-pure-evil, indescribably pathetic, wheelchair bound 9 year old girls. That'll get your construction company off and running, no pun intended.

Since there's obviously no way to avoid eventually becoming ensnared by a faith-based organization, liberals have to fly flags of recognition while they still form part of the "team". These flags are called dick and fart jokes, and are funny only to those who do not claim to have matured in any way, and thus are not yet acceptable candidates for conservative clubs. Most people will dismiss this overuse of so called "bad" words (did Fuck steal your candy, dear?) as an attempt to be shocking, but it's really just good sportsmanship, a way to let the fellas know you're still heading for the same end zone.

There is really just one way to escape the damage that actually giving a flubbering fuck about the propriety of words does to human personality. Don't get involved in the errant clusterfuck that surrounds the use of language. It's probably too late for most of us, but our kids can still be scientists and engineers, people who have a lot more to think about than words, people who don't think with words, but with funny little squiggles surrounded by numbers and letters, squiggles that eventually become powerful cars and pretty kitchen appliances. So be a Nazi with your kids. Don't let them choose artsy electives and write mindless blogs. Make them love numbers and fear letters, at least it'll motivate them to finish their algebra homework quickly. Create überliberals by being an überdick. If you don't, some asshole will come along and teach them values, then some other dickweed will convince them to be media types, and they'll turn into this:

Beat This, Motherfucker

2009-05-11T13:31:00.002-05:00

"Hi, I'm Leonard"

2009-04-21T13:01:00.005-05:00

The Dick, Dick Cheney

2009-04-20T12:05:00.004-05:00

Former Vice-President Cheney appeared on CNN criticizing President Obama on his foreign policy for the fifteenth time this week. The new criticism comes after Obama shook Hugo Chavez's hand at the Summit of the Americas and released memos which described "harsh" interrogation techniques permitted by the Bush Administration.

In an off the record interview later on, Cheney had some remarks about pacifism and non-violence. Asking whether a non-confrontational approach could possibly render better results than the preemptive Bush Doctrine, one reporter mentioned Gandhi as an example. The former Vice-President replied, "You know what? Fuck Gandhi. Fuck him right in his pureed vegetable excreting, sand wiped, prison raped, shit-stained-trendy-toga-wearing cornhole."

Noticing the presence of several hand held recorders, Cheney immediately had a fit, in what appeared to be a third pretend heart attack. Screaming, "aaaaaaaaargh! This one got my brain! Off the record! Off the record!" Cheney was immediatly picked up by an ambulance. However, before the doors closed, the former Secretary of Defense could be heard muttering to the ambulance attendant, "you know, I really do hate that fucking sand nigger." After much discussion between those present, it was unanimously agreed that Cheney was referring to Gandhi.

Cheetara Is Dead to Me

2009-04-15T17:52:00.002-05:00

The End Is Near! Mark Your Calendar, the Mayans Were Kind Enough to Provide an Exact Date

2009-04-15T11:01:00.005-05:00

Ah, lovely. The crazy fuckers with "The End Is Nigh" signs are going mainstream. Alignment of the stars and planets sounds great, but what´s the big deal? I dare anyone to provide a respected physicist that will admit any fear whatsoever related to the effects of any object, be it the Universe's largest chunk of excrement or Ben Stein´s vestigial brain, entering Aquarius. What's more, I'll offer $200 USD to any astronomer (the kind with proper university degrees, please) that can prove that constellations are anything more than imaginary patterns thought up by humans.

Here's a bit of the History Channel cashing in on an amalgam of ancient mythology and modern naïvité. Try and find more quotes like these all-encompassing statements of absolute wisdom:

"when the sun is in Leo, this is somehow important"
"he is an astute astrologer who believes that the map of the future is embedded in the stars"

NAALP

2009-04-02T13:31:00.003-06:00

The Obamas hold a White House reception for Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Littlefield, Co-Directors and founders of the National Association for the Advancement of Little People.

Fuck You, God***

2009-03-17T16:41:00.005-06:00

DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVE ANY RESPECT WHATSOEVER FOR RELIGION. YOU WILL HATE ME AND I WILL HATE THE SHIT YOU WILL GIVE ME FOR IT.

Other than being one of the main cultural engines of humanity, organized religion (and in consequence, synchronized "knowledge" of the afterlife) is complete and utter bullshit. Carlin called it the greatest bullshit story ever told, and for once, he was understating the facts. Religion has created a belief system that is so self defensive and insecure, that it's immoral not to have one. We even have to put a capital letter on the word "god". Not on the word "gods", mind you, after all those silly Greeks* just had a mythology, not an honest to bumblefuck religion.

To top it all off, in the fight for souls, it seems the two major religious families are just about tied, but in the fight for turf, we Abrahamic homies got the upper hand on those damned (literally, by some interpretations) Dharmic douches. This means that basically anywhere you go, barring China, India, Japan and Indochina, you will find people believing in the Ten Commandments.

This literally means that a huge percentage of Earth is in some way ruled by a set of 10 rules (by most counts) that were given to an escaped Egyptian slave by a divinely arsonized shrub. This in itself is not a problem, it´s just a mildly psychodelic story about how these rules came to be, not any more harmful than making up wild shit about the guys who wrote the United States Constitution. Did you know Jefferson could throw a mean fastball? The problem with the whole story with the desert and Moses, beyond the fact that nowadays if you go on a hill and get instructions from incendiary vegetation you´ll get arrested for drug possession, is the commandments themselves. With one certain exception and a few others that might pass the lithmus test, the Ten Commandments are an evil mindcontrol scheme. So fuck you god, here´s what I think of your stupid, fascist instructions:

1-I am the Lord your God
First of all, that doesn´t really mean anything, does it? It´s more of a statement than a commandment. What is "the Lord" anyway? Do you have a bureaucratic structure upholding your position? And then this whole thing with sending Moses over with that message... a bit childish if you ask me. You know what, I´m calling an election here, and honestly, if you don´t show your face I don´t like your chances, dude.
2-You shall have no other gods before me/You shall not make for yourself an idol
So you´re admitting there are other gods? You know, I think that Thor guy was pretty fuckin' awesome. Hammering away all those lightning bolts. If having a Thor action figure is wrong, I don´t wanna be right.
3-You shall not make wrongful use of the name of your God.
First of all, this whole thing about not telling people your name is just plain rude. Secondly, any third grader knows that you can´t let people calling you names get to you. If you do, they´ll just keep doing it. Jehovah has a mangina! Jehovah has a mangina!
4-Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy
Fuck you! What the fuck does this mean? I have fucked, eaten beef, fish, crawdaddies, library paste and boogers, worked, not worked, worked out, vegged out, watched TV, masturbated, gotten massively intoxicated and done just about anything there is to be done on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. When I was a kid I also went to church on Sundays. Of all activities listed, guess which one sucked the most? Take a wild guess, you power hungry fuck.
5-Honor your father and mother
Hey, watch it fucker. How I deal with my family is my problem. But seriously, this I happen to agree with, unless your father is an incestuous Austrian pedo-rapist.
6-You shall not murder/kill
Ok, so this makes perfect sense. Thank you, oh so brilliantly brilliant god, you purveyor of all wisdom, for this ever so well hidden gem. I am sure, oh great one, that no one would have come up with this had you not so elegantly imposed it upon us poor saps.
7-You shall not commit adultery
Makes sense, but I´m kind of divided over the punishment. Eternal damnation for sleeping around? I mean, cuckolds (don´t you just love that word?) dig this one, but it does seem a bit harsh.
8-You shall not steal
See above.
9-You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor
I'll be nice and not get all bitchy about the definition of neighbor. Sure, makes sense, but again, this would´ve eventually come up in some non divine rulebook.
10-You shall not covet your neighbor's wife/You shall not covet anything that belongs to your neighbor
I follow this one like a goddamn priest. If you saw my neighbor´s wife, you would too. Not to mention that dude´s car... and his apartment. Jesus F. Christ on two sticks and a hill, I think the poor bastard still has a black and white TV. God**, I hear you on this one. I really fucking hear you.

*Capitalized, after all, there is some solid evidence for the existence of a place called Greece, in which there are, according to said evidence, people who are denominated Greeks, at least in the English language.
**Even imaginary friends get capital letters if they begin a sentence! Yay!
***In titles, too!

Big Shiny Dog Balls

2009-02-27T13:31:00.002-06:00

Oscar Mania!

2009-02-23T15:19:00.006-06:00

You know why the Oscars suck donkey balls like a Hoover vac with a penchant for sucking donkey balls? Have you heard an Oscar acceptance speech? Thousands of professionals in the use of words, in the use of language, in oratory and rhetoric, and the best they can pull off is a list of thank you's that would get any high school public speaking student a big, fat F.

This dimwitted display of masturbatory self adulation (is there any other kind?) is an insult to the skills it supposedly rewards. It's the equivalent of celebrating the steel industry with plastic trophies. Idiots.

There have been, ever so exceptionally, few but distinguished examples of film professionals actually proving themselves worthy of praise while thanking the Academy. Here is the speech Peter O'Toole gave after receiving an honorary Oscar. If only Kate Winslet and Halle Berry had read this before standing up on that stage to confirm every embarrassing flash of misogyny that ever crossed my mind.

"Meryl Streep, members of the Academy, distinguished guests, viewers, ladies and gentlemen - always a bridesmaid, never a bride, my foot.

I have my very own Oscar now to be with me till death do us part. I wish the Academy to know that I am as delighted as I am honoured, and I am honoured. The magic of the movies enraptured me when I was a child. As I totter into antiquity, movie magic enraptures me still.

Having already bagged this baby, as it were, and so spared uncertainties prior to the opening of an envelope, I'm able to think.

I think of our colleagues, our old friends now gone, who played their parts in this ceremony. I think of the sumptuous talents alive and well and with us now. I think of the astonishing young, the gifted and able young men and women who I meet practically every time I go to work, and from whom I grab energy in handfuls.

I think of the United States and of the loves and friendships I've known here for more than half a century, and of how much the nation has given to me both personally, privately and professionally. And I am deeply thankful.

And now, at this last, you have given me this delightful shock. You're very good. Good night and God bless you."

P.S. Note the implication that he can pull off a decent speech just because he's been "spared uncertainties prior to the opening of an envelope". He's just being nice. His speech would've been just as good if he'd won any of the 8 times he was nominated.

What The Fuck Are You Looking At?

2009-02-12T14:11:00.002-06:00

Did I mention...

2009-02-10T10:54:00.009-06:00

I write educational material for children? Here´s something I found inspirational:

Statements of Unquestionable Truth

2009-02-05T14:28:00.008-06:00

And now for something completely different. This all comes from the same source.

Here´s something Hugo Chávez might agree with:

"Israel appears to be calling the shots more than ever. Shortly after the Vatican showed some independence and disapproval of Israel’s latest atrocities against civilians in Gaza, US law enforcement has suddenly decided to re-investigate the whole pedophile priest business."

And just about anyone would this say to sound interesting:

"The U.S. government does not have a monopoly on hypocrisy, but no other government can match the hypocrisy of the U.S. government."

Any liberal might think:
"Bush Junior was a whore for Big Oil and the Israeli Lobby."

If you´re big on the moral requirements of the Oval Office:
"(...) presidents have been declining in quality with Bill Clinton and George W. Bush being especially bad and embarrassing."

If you´re thinking, "well, I don´t know about that quip on Clinton, but this sounds like a pretty decent source to me"... you´ve just misunderestimated the power of picky quoting. Let´s see how that last paragraph about Bush and Clinton ends:

"The decline in presidents goes back much further than Clinton. Abraham Lincoln waged a long bloody fratricidal war, that could easily have been avoided. Rather than address Southern grievances and make an attempt to win them back with fair treatment and respect, Lincoln chose the fist of the tyrant and a war that cost the lives of 600,000 White Americans."

Cool, huh? It gets much worse, but I´d rather not indulge in white power in the post that comes immediately after the one in which I purposely wrote the word nigger on a picture of President Obama... not helping my cause, am I?

So what´s the point? Judge for yourself. Here´s the source of all this crap, just for fun (or research). If you happen to agree with anything posted on this piece of shit white power site, you might want to have your head examined. Then again, you have to admit it didn´t sound AS fucked up taken out of context. I mean, calling W a whore for the big oil lobby doesn´t exactly make non-aryans squirm in fear and disgust. Still, you gotta know them to fight them, and know how sometimes even the most disgusting ethos will make sense to anyone. Their weakness is that they´re perpetually pissed off, which makes them act irrational and sound stupid. They know this, so they avoid it by agreeing with the best of us on particular tidbits. If there´s anything to be said about David Duke, it´s that he can pull off a great "common sense" tone.

What to do? Give them a taste of their own medicine and find the common ground between them and the people they hate. Ever wonder why Hitler and Stalin acted so much alike? One thing that might piss these fuckers off just as much as much as the neo-marxist idiots that sound just like them is... well... that they sound just like each other. Maybe it´s just that they´re all so equally pissed off that they keep forgeting what they´re pissed off at. I can tell everybody´s pissed off at Israel. This either means that Israel is so bad that even David Duke and Hugo Chávez have to agree, or that oversimplifying racist fucks think alike.

I´m Sure This Is Gonna Mean Trouble

2009-01-22T18:59:00.011-06:00

I guess I need a small print disclaimer for this one. If you still think a whole race can be discredited by a stupid ass six letter word, go catch up on your George Carlin, you desperately need it. If the World had no puritan assholes like you and Tipper Gore, we wouldn´t need small print.

S. M. R. T.

2009-01-20T15:59:00.002-06:00

This stupid ass joke passed the peer review test and will consequently be posted. Warning: my peers are complete idiots* and as such will find any vaginal references hysterical.

-What do Obama and a Brazilian bikini waxer have in common?

-They remove the Bush.

*Note to peers: I called you complete idiots solely on the pretense of being funny, I don´t actually believe that you are complete idiots.

Muahahahagabe

2008-12-19T16:52:00.003-06:00

"I will never, never sell my country. I will never, never, never surrender, Zimbabwe is mine, I am a Zimbabwean, Zimbabwe for Zimbabweans. Zimbabwe never for the British. Britain for the British."

-Robert Mugabe

I´m sure the British are really fucking sad about this. In a related poll of all Londoners, 2 people said they´d rather be in Harare. It was later revealed that one was kidding and the other was, in fact, a dimwitted mongol son of a flea-ridden prostitute whose toothless mumbling only kind of sounded like "harare". He was later offered the position of Health Minister of Zimbabwe by Mr. Mugabe.