Star Gazing

Like the moon illuminating the shoreline, her smile offered beauty and intrigue into what would have normally been a dreary day. Void of requirement or purpose, it was sincere.

He began to look beyond her smile and notice the accompanying stars that complimented her universe. In particular, he noticed a pair of star ear rings she was wearing. Simple but unique in the sense that the stars were something seen but not noticed each day by the common man, he appreciated her style. As only young boys and old men will do, he took a moment from his stressful day to gaze at the stars and appreciated the moment.

As he contemplated the endless possibilities, he relished in the fact that while he had been intently staring at her, she had not become uncomfortable. In fact, it was as if she was admiring some celestial traits of him.

The moment ended as quickly as it had begun. She had captured his imagination and intrigue as only the heavens could. As she walked by him, he muttered, "I wish upon on a star"

Feeling maybe she had dropped something or forgotten part of her coffee order, she hesitated and asked, "Pardon me?"

"See you tomorrow?"

She smiled, and told him she was in town for business but would be leaving the next day. But before she had finished walking through the small crowd awaiting their orders, she said something that would forever make him appreciate the night's sky.

"You know, you never see the same sky two nights in a row. It's always best to appreciate it when you see it and try not to forget."

And forget he would never.

That's what friends are for...

If we lose everyone else, you will still be my best friend.

I was recently married. Sorry I didn't tell you. You're my best friend

The person that ruined your life; I fucked them up and they have moved to Canada. You will not have a day in court, you will not be able to face them when you become a man. I did that for you because you are my best friend.

Did you win the baseball playoff game? Did you play? Sorry I didn't make it. You're my best friend

Good job scoring the touchdown man, that is great! Maybe I'll make the next game. You're my best friend.

Thanks for understanding I'm not into basketball as much as you which is why I didn't make a game. You're my best friend.

I'm so proud of how you sacrificed and worked through your military training. I didn't make it to the graduation so your instructors could tell me how you graduated in the top 1%. I'm lucky to have a best friend like you.

Congratulations on your first born son! Sorry I couldn't make it out for the birth as I had other things going on. I'm happy for you because you are my best friend.

I know you said to be sure to make it out for your daughters birth but, due to the difficulties with the pregnancy and the nature of her handicap, I thought it would be better to give you space instead of support. Let me know if you need anything because you're my best friend.

A second son! I know you really wanted that I and am happy for you. I couldn't make it out for the birth because of so many things going on here. Just know I'm happy for you because you are my best friend.

I've been sick for some time now. I've had a relapse of skin cancer and the head injury I suffered is really affecting me. I know that I don't tell you anything about my ailments, even when you ask, but just know that it is because I don't want to burden you. I keep these things from you because you are my best friend.

One more thing and don't ever forget this, I love you man.

I love you too dad.

Do You Know What One Is?

After arguing during the entire way back from school with her older brother, Sara had had enough from Cal and promptly engaged in elevating her level of insults that she had learned during the course of the previous days.

"Cal, you are such a douche bag"

What Sara didn't know, by virtue of Cal entering the home first was, that both parents had overheard the last part of the conversation. Cal being older but still impulsive and limited in his stressed vernacular observations muttered, "Mother Fucker" upon seeing his parents.

Cal was not worried so much about his parents witnessing the argument with Sara but rather, the lenghty "talking to" they were about to receive from each in their quest to out-parent the other. As if on que, the father addresses Sara with, "Sara, where did you hear that?"

"At School"

"Do you know what a Douche Bag is?"

"No, I just heard it at school"

"Well Sara, a douche bag is a bag a woman fills with vinegar, water, and other things and then uses it to clean her vagina"

"Gross" Sara exclaimed while covering her ears.

"Come with me and I'll show you one" the dad said while getting a huge laugh from the mother and son as her face changed to bright red.

Not to be outdone as well as teach Cal a lesson, the mother asks, "Cal, do you know what a Mother Fucker is?"

Seeing Sara escape punishment, Cal quickly implemented the same strategy as Sara while predicting his embarrassment level would be greatly reduced.

"No, I just heard it at school" Cal quipped

"Well Cal, it is not a very nice word to say especially if you don't know what it is" she began while Cal became slightly agitated with what appeared to be the pending equivalent to a Senate Hearing on worker compensation in Angola.

As the father looked over at Cal as if to say, "Listen to your mother" followed by the compassionate look of an attorney walking his murder client in front of a Texas Jury, a look of panic overtook him.

"Well, if you don't know what one is Cal" she continued while motioning to the bedroom, "Come with me and I'll show you".

The I-Deuce

As much as I would love to take credit for the following, I cannot. None-the-less, I am compelled and equally responsible to share the following story.

We are all aware of how competitive the technology sector is. Most recently we have found out about Apple having a new I-Phone that was left behind at a bar and subsequently, compromised by rival tech factions (imagine a hybrid of Transformers followers and paparazzi).

But it's what you didn't hear about that is the most intriguing. Apple has a new phone that is impervious to water, chemicals, and yes...even our good friend "number 2".

The story goes something like this. A buddy of mine (We'll name him...Duke) was enjoying a nice movement while listening to a wide variety of music, surfing the net, and checking e-mail on his I-Phone. Long gone are the days of simply reading a Readers Digest or Sports Illustrated while passing the time and passing something else. It seems a bit redundant but I'll say it anyway; if you can't multi-task while taking a shit, you're not... shit!

So after checking scores, replying to the gentleman from Africa who just so happens to come from royalty and wants Duke to be the caretaker of his millions, and letting Mother Nature run her course, it is now time to clean up (always remember, sack to spine) and resume the day's activities.

It's at this point that Duke places his I-Phone on a small shelf roughly two feet above the toilet. In continuing to paint this picture, I will describe the various heights and lengths of everything involved in the upcoming and critical portion of this story:
Toilet - 2 feet high
Shelf - 2 feet above toilet
Headphone cord - 2 feet
Duke when standing - 6'4"

Take just a moment to do the math and visualize it.

So just prior to "clean-up" Duke places his I-Phone on the shelf above the toilet. Once clean-up has taken place, Duke opts against the Sit & Flush, and instead goes with the Stand-Turn-Look-N-Flush. It's at this time that the Laws of Math come into play. Being that Duke is 6'4" and the total height of the toilet, shelf, and headphone cord is only 6 feet, something has to give.

As Duke stands, the combination of his head bobbing to the music and the lack of any remaining cord, jerk his I-Phone from the shelf and on a direct path to the dark and murky waters below. As in many life and death or, situations that could cause us a shit load of embarrassment, Duke realized the magnitude of what was occuruing and did what any normal person would do in seeing their $300 investment head straight down the toilet, he swung violently and recklessly in an attempt to knock the phone off course and away from what was surely to be a segment on, Dirtiest Jobs. By his own recollection, Duke got five to six swings in to which I equate to Keanu Reeves in The Matrix where his fists are moving so fast they actually become a blur.

And then like the return of the Apollo crew, there was splashdown. Duke said that his phone didn't cut off immediately as he watched it being consumed by all that had been left behind. As if the phone was the Titanic itself, it had first encountered little resistance in going through the toilet paper but, it was the deadly collision with the large brown ice-berg that jettisoned the phone sideways and into a different position causing the water to overtake it.

Frustrated and in shock, Duke figured he had one choice and it had to be quick. Without reservation, Duke thrust his hands into the water and fished his phone back out in time to see the remaining part of his display screen short out.

Disappointed but not done, Duke quickly knocked off the larger chunks of "debris" off his phone and immediately followed by dousing it with the All Purpose Cleaner 409. After some time and several failed attempts to restart the phone, Duke decided to head into the local Apple Store to see what he could do.

The part time college student, part time employee was eager to help Duke before Duke was able to truly explain what happened. Upon Duke displaying the phone to the worker and stating that is was broken, the worker (We'll call him Ted) immediately took the phone from Duke's hand and begin to handle it saying, "So what happened?'

"Uh, it fell in some water while I was listening to music" Duke replied

"Oh, so can you hear music on it anymore" Ted asked while moving the phone from his hand and up to his ear and around his face.

"Uh, I don't think so. I didn't really check" Duke finally said after trying to determine if he should laugh his ass off or throw up after seeing Ted move the I-Phone from hand to head.

Fast forward 2 hours and a new I-Phone later: Duke shows up to the office shaking his head and laughing at the same time. He shares the story of the day with me and we are both almost on the floor with tears in our eyes from laughing so hard. Duke tells me he bought another phone and a "waterproof case called the 'Otter'" to keep the same accident from happening again. I follow by telling him they should name the case "The Turtle" and he is not amused.

I then proceed to tell this stupid fucking Giraffe that there are a number of things instead of a waterproof case that will save him time and money if he really HAS to have his phone while taking a dump. After I notice him half listening to my suggestions I finish with, "or you could just turn the camera portion of the phone on, shove it straight up your ass, and at least save a few bucks while impressing your doctor by showing the ability to perform your own colon examination and save time and getting those pesky films developed".

It was at that point that Duke's phone actually turned back on. Unbelievably, Duke's phone turned back on and he was able to make a call. Naturally, I made him call me first because I wanted to see if everything he said would sound like a fart or that sound you hear from people when they try to talk underwater.

To my surprise and amazement, Duke's phone appeared to be back to normal with one exception. The only thing that was not able to stand the water, chemical, and shit cocktail he had exposed it to was the camera.

So much for saving money on that prostate exam.

The Best Kind of "Happy"

With the wide circulation of Girls Gone Wild, Loving Annebelle, and the endless home video shots of countless college aged girls sucking and licking each other like how I used to eat an Oreo Cookie, the phrase, "No one knows a woman's body better than a woman" has never rang more true. Well, that's what all the new-age pseudo lesbians would have you think anyway.

I will confess that when measured against the true scale of supporting our gays (why do I feel the need to salute limp wristed and wink when I say that) I am an utter failure. I'm simply indifferent to their plight because I truly don't understand the urge to stick a dick in an area that doesn't self lubricate except for when the partner happens to have a case of food poisoning. I also think it's a bad idea to enter an area that does self lubricate but can be surrounded by hair that is not of the pubic family.

Lesbians are a different story though. Nobody really worries about them because they are not viewed as a threat which is mainly due to the understanding they are not "packing" and the threat of being ambushed by a rogue cock while in an enibriated state remains at zero percent. Pseudo lesbians are the best though because they are like the family dog that runs away for a day or two at a time. Each time they head out on a Beaver hunting excursion, they ultimately always come back home where they belong. Sure, the trip was fun while it lasted but they crave the attention and affection of the one that knows them best.

Bad Doggy

As many Americans, I have a beloved dog that I have grown close to over the years. From trips into the woods to find deer, to swimming in one of the local lakes, to having her lay with me in front of the fireplace on a cold winter night, we have shared many moments together.

But this story is not about this particular dog and many fond moments we have shared together. In keeping with the shameless themes of this blog, this story has to do with the pursuit of a woman, questions to my manliness, my quest to reclaim said manliness, and the resulting head and neck injuries.

I had come to know a girl that for the sake of the story we will call DD which in terms of breast measurement, couldn't be further from the truth. DD came across as very quiet and somewhat reserved girl but not to the point where I expected her to join the nunnery. A very petite girl with long blond hair, green eyes, and from Florida, she seemed to be a mixture of nice surfer girl and ambitious professional. The thing is, I had a feeling there was more to the story. Maybe it was the tramp stamp, possibly the tongue ring, or the fact that I knew while in an inebriated state, she had once auditioned at a strip club during peak hours. It had become my mission to peel back the layers of this onion to see if she could truly make me cry.

We had gone out a few times together over the course of a few months, each time getting only as far as some hypothetical dirty talk of what it would be like to hook up. As like most guys in their early 20's being full of nothing more than stupid thoughts and protein, I went straight for the kill instead of enjoying the hunt which inevitably left my balls more blue than a pair of denim pants. Typically the conversations would take place in one of our cars and be something like:

DD: I think sex with you would be a lot of fun
Me: Me too! I mean, with you that is
DD: Yeah, I think I want to but not tonight
Me: Why the fuck not!?
DD: Maybe we should go back

Sprinkled into the conversation would be failed attempts by me to show her I was a gentleman that was not out to just commit a hit and run on her.

So after numerous failed attempts at landing DD, I finally figured it was time to cut bait, lick my wounds, and move onto the next girl that after saying sex might be fun with me, would at least have the common courtesy to rough up the suspect if she wasn't willing to put the little villain into vaginal solitary confinement.

To my surprise about a week later, DD shows up at my door and it's after 9PM. For everyone in the building that knew me back then, I had a strict rule for any female that came to visit after 9. That rule was if I happened to open my door and invite you in, you were getting the VIP treatment and then getting out. If those conditions were not agreeable, you agreed to getting the door shut in your face. It was straight to the point and kept me from having to be the "really good guy" friend that listens to the late night sob stories of girls having problems with the other guy they were fucking instead of me.

I open the door and see DD there looking like she had just come in from having a few drinks with friends but didn't want the night to end. As per the regulations, I informed DD of the house rules and made clear there were no exemptions even to "friends". She walked in.

In being honest, I will admit to thinking based on all of our previous times together that I was going to either slip this girl a roofy or get ready to ice my balls for the night. I offered DD a drink but instead, she wanted a meal. Before I had time to get into my routine, DD had Thor's hammer in hand and was getting to the bottom of things. Nothing was really out of the ordinary at this point in terms of two young, hot adults getting ready to turn the room into CSI black light equivalent of finding the holly grail.

After about 30 minutes or so, it's time for a change of scenery and I'm ready to get a better view of that tattoo from the back side. Bow wow it's K9 time! As we find our rhythm, something tells me to give DD a nice tap on the ass as we are going for it. Normally, I'm not into S&M kind of stuff as the fight part of my fight or flight reflexes kick in. If you hit me it's instinct to hit you back. In this case though, I felt since I wasn't reacting and I was already pretty much tossing all of her 5'1" body across my bed, she might actually like it.

In having a better understanding of why the following events take place, it's important to know that I am fairly competitive by nature. When it comes to sex, this means a couple of things:

1. She has to cum at least twice before I get mine.
2. I like to feel that the work being put in, is of high quality

Back to the main event.

So up to this point, the first item has been accomplished as DD has cum a couple of times already. Things are going well. So while in doggy I decide to give DD's booty which, is almost begging for it, a nice little spank.

Swat to which DD replies, "harder"

"Are you shitting me" I think to myself. This chick is cool. Well, let me oblige that request... SWAT

Again she says, "harder"

Wait...What? Is she serious? OK, but she's asking for it. Pop!

With almost no hesitation and in between thrusts DD says, "harder"

OK, WTF!? Is this girl into getting her ass beat? Am I going to have to worry about charges in the morning? Hell, you only live once... POP!!

This pushes DD slightly forward and has me thinking, "yeah, take that shit. I bet you won't be asking for any more of that business"

In a competitive like moment that can only be compared to two cars being equal distance from the only remaining parking space left at the mall during holiday shopping, she looks me dead in the eye and says... "harder"

I'm confused, wondering if I'm some kind of pussy and then begin to take her commands as a direct challenge to my manhood. Who the hell does this girl think she is dealing with? I've never left a customer unsatisfied and I damn sure have never been punked by some girl that is on the verge of having to stand next to the "You must be this tall to ride" sign in bed. GAME ON!

I wait for DD to turn her head forward so that she cannot brace for what is coming. I fully extend my arm, twist slightly at the waist as to gain more leverage and momentum without disengaging, and release the same energy that used to power 80+ mile-per-hour fastballs.

BOOM!!!

Not only did DD not see it coming, I'm not sure she ever remembered it after that night as I had walloped this girl so hard that we disengaged sending her into a dual collision with the head board first, and then the wall. I only truly realized the magnitude of what had happened when after a moment, I noticed she appeared stuck to the wall like a fly on flypaper with her neck tucked into her shoulder. DD looked like a crash test dumby from the Mercedes factory.

"Oh shit" was followed by the obligatory "Are you alright" from me.

"Why did you hit me so hard"

"Because you were asking for it. What was I supposed to do"

"Keeping me out of the fucking wall would have been nice" which made me wonder if head boards were fair game.

At that moment, we both realized the moment was gone. After getting dressed and some self chiropractic measures to re-stabilize her neck, she decided to leave and I was back to square one with her... another late night ice session with the boys.

DD never really found the humor in the moment which ultimately lead to nothing more than a hello in passing.

I have learned two lessons from my experience with DD:

1. Never judge a little book by its cover
2. Before smashing your partner into the wall or any other object that may cause concussion, make sure to get yours.

Old School Musical Nirvana

Wasn't feeling especially creative today so I figured I would write a little story taking the lyrics from a number of artists that you may or may not have heard of. I have listed the artists at the very end. This was not as easy as I anticipated due to the fact some of the music is much less mature than others. Still I was able to work with it the best way I knew how. Some musical references are lyrics while others are simply a title to a song. There are 16 in all. If you don't like a lot of 90's music, you probably should not read this entry and instead bend over and fuck your own face. Enjoy!

I was riding down the street in my six four, jocking bitches and slapping hoes. I pulled over to get the scoop where there were knuckle heads outside shooting some hoop. These guys were really balling. I mean, really pumping up the jam. My feet were stomping, the crowd was jumping, and that was where the party was at.

But today, I was interested in a different kind of balling if you get my chauvinistic angle. There happened to be a lot of hot bodies out on this day. I spotted one and instantly labeled her my Cherry Pie. Oh yeah, she was my Cherry Pie, a cool drink of water and such a sweet surprise.

She told me her name was Nikki and propositioned me to accompany her place which was not far. She took me to her castle and I just couldn't believe my eyes. Shad so many devices, everything that money could buy. She said sign your name on the the dotted line, the lights went out, and Nikki started to grind.

Nikki appeared to be a freak to say the least. She had curves like a Coke bottle and a sex drive like a Porsche. But something was telling me to never trust a big butt and a smile, the girl is poison. Being that we had just met, Nikki was momentarily reluctant to pursue what was shaping up to be a glorious afternoon by openly asking me how many other women I had done this with. My reply was direct and to the point, "Why blow up my spot cause we both got hot? I got more Mack than Craig in the bed, believe me sweetie I got enough to feed the needy"

Nikki for some reason became turned on by my direct approach and I could tell based on her smile and subtle but erotic exhale. I pressed on knowing know the more I sex talked her, the more she would be aroused.

"I won't ask and I sure won't beg"

I reached right over and rubbed her leg

"Let my hand slide between your miniskirt. I'll slip a finger in your panties and go to work"

She smiled, took me by the hand, and guided me to her bedroom. The foreplay was almost non-existent as we dove straight into pleasing one another simultaneously. I was reliving my carefree teenage days from the summer of 69 although I was born in 73. Before long we moved onto the main event and were doing it, doing it, and doing it well.

Nikki was experienced but not to the point of making me feel I needed to watch the clock so that she would have time to freshen up for her next appointment. Instead, I was amazed at how her golden hips rocked back and forth and her vacuum-like vaginal muscles sucked the sensation from every appendage save, the one being used. It was as if being hit by a landmine and she had taken my sight, taken my speech, taken my hearing, taken my arms, taken my legs, and taken my soul.

In between various positions and short breaks to inhale enough air to remain conscience I had a moment of clarity that revealed little more than this woman was rocking my world to its hedonistic core. I wanted to be able to return the favor and asked if there was anything she would like from me. Here answer made sense only after I considered the position she was in at the time.

"Left to right, work me all night"

And with the same desperation as an addict trying to make a score she said, "C'mon let's sweat baby"


My self discipline hanging by a thread and the need to show this young Philly all my moxie, I dismounted and spun her around. I now had a full view of her telescoping legs that blended seamlessly into her splendid ass. She looked over her shoulder into my eyes and her glance told me all I needed to know; more dirty talk with a cirque du soleil finish. I was happy to oblige.

"Back that ass up" I commanded her "Call me big daddy when you back that ass up"

Nikki didn't just comply; she approached the final approach like a child trying to get in a last ride at the amusement park. With my left hand holding her hair like ski rope I told her Jimmy needed to finish what he had started. She asked who Jimmy was to which my response elicited another erogenous sigh prompting her to bow her back and slightly spread her legs.

"He's the one they call Dr. Feelgood" I said in my best non-creepy Ron Jeremy voice.

Nikki was under my physical control but I was a slave to her mentally. The only reason I had her under my physical power was because she wanted it that way. She truly loved being dominated and seemed to climax each time a new order was given that was followed by a heavy thrust.

"I could spend my life in this sweet surrender" She muscled out between heavy gasps of air.

"I could stay in this moment forever"

It was at this moment each of us gave into our own inhibitions and worked feverishly towards a triumphant climax. With each thrust I gave Nikki, she would push back harder and faster. I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled it so that her guttural moans were now directed towards the track lighting, to show her I was in charge. She responded by reaching back with her left hand while bracing herself with her right, and grabbing and scratching my ass in a way that said, "I'm in charge motherfucker and you better not stop".

The orgasm we shared was experienced and new, as we had each cum many times before meeting one another, but never like this. Fighting to stay conscience and not give in to hyperventilating, I focused on what my remaining senses allowed me to take in. As the surrounding elements from outside her bedroom began to fade to black, everything near became enhanced as sound to a deaf man. It was almost as if I could feel every stitch in her 500 count bed sheets, see every shadow cast upon her ceiling, hear every chamber of my own heart beat, and smell... the smell was that of teen spirit.

Two hours later I awoke to a dimly lit room and a note on the counter of her bathroom. It simply read, "Thanks, you were great"

I understood all of the unwritten words and had to smile. She totally understood that I'm just a gigolo and everywhere I go people know the part I'm playing. She had flipped the script on me by providing me the best sex of my life, and bailing before I ever had a chance to ask her to a normal night out. Had she been still there and I, a gentleman; I would have tipped my hat and said, "Well played Madam"

With that I dressed, took in the aroma of our hasty rendezvous and whispered to a small picture that Nikki had of herself in the picture album left open on her coffee table, "Thank you my darling Nikki, you were the best".










1. NWA
2. Technotronic
3. Warrant
4. Prince
5. Bell Biv DeVoe
6. Notorious B.I.G.
7. Too Short
8. Bryan Adams
9. LL Cool J
10.Metallica
11. C + C Music Factory
12. Juvenille
13. Motley Crue
14. Aerosmith
15. Nirvana
16. David Lee Roth

Crazy News and My Demise

Many of us have, if not a sympathetic heart, a caring heart for the ill. Admittedly but with slight protest, even I can become a sucker and feel bad for the old guy who worked 30 years in a coal mine and smoked 2 packs a day and think, "Maybe all of the information DID get past one person".

In reality, my criteria for picking who to feel bad for, who to hope can die quickly and painlessly, and who I wish would have a sudden infusion of extra-sensory overload as they go through a steady stream of chemotherapy, is as complicated as the new tax laws. So like the government, I will just say that the rules are in place and you have to trust me on them.

As I get older I have become more aware of how life is not infinite and the myriad of ways we as humans move on to the next stage. Some of us go quietly and dignified while others are well chronicled as a part of Darwin's theory. I have always thought about my journey to the finish line rather than about the last breath itself and the one ailment I feel I would be most comfortable with is "Old-Timers" disease. I have come to believe that if diagnosed early enough, I could start to prepare myself, and those around me, for what is to come and therefore to a degree, alter some of the wiring in my brain to accept the Nike phrase Just Do It. By it, I mean be the carefree entertainer I have always wanted to be but suppressed do to being easily embarrassed and not confident in my ability to entertain.

So while surfing around online sans, trolling the internet for porn but telling the wife I'm checking scores, I am suddenly distracted by a story of a fire at one of the local hospitals. Today's news story; to use a golf, a baseball, and battered wife analogy, hit the sweet spot. According to my previously mentioned IRS scale for caring, this story registers as something worth paying attention to. It turns out that a truck that was plowing the roads and parking lot of a local "medical facility" had caught fire while next to a wing of the building sending flames four stories high along the brick and windowed siding. As the news flashes pictures of the burned truck and charred building, the news caster states that the fire had taken place at the psychiatric wing of the building.

My mind has now been stimulated in the same way as if I had headed south of the border and arrived in the front row of a donkey show. I am a combination of shocked and smitten. Immediately I am picturing the inmates err... residents standing at their windows, loosely chained to their heating units, watching the tranquil snowfall after most likely being involuntarily overdosed with cocktails of muscle relaxers and anti-depressants. Suddenly, their view is obstructed by a literal wall of fire to which their drawled words and swaying motions are replaced by clapping hands and requests for marshmallows and weenies.

As I finish listening to the announcer in the background of the piece recap the events and give the happy ending about the residents being moved back into their rooms, I couldn't help but picture myself, resigned to my Old-Timers, going through the scenario myself.

Picture a mash-up if you will, of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and The Matrix. After taking the blue pill I realize each snowflake is part of a binary message sent by the mother ship informing me of her return. Her message is clear: kill the Indian, rid yourself of all uncleanliness by banging the life sized Scooby Doo stuffed animal while singing You've Lost that Loving Feeling, and then jump through the window and into the light that will ultimately lead me to a new world where the area between the vagina and ass is called the mouth.

My fear for the fire at the crazy house was not directed towards the residents and the self inflicted harm that could have resulted from what could have been a potential human SMORES roast. It was that in our very well structured society full of Nazi-esque Nurse Ratchett's and bleeding heart Mother Theresa's who have no fucking concept that maybe they really don't know what is best for each person or what they feel, they might just be missing out on the final moment of happiness by someone that is actually just sane enough to know they want to go out in a crazy way.

My vision, and hope would be that after I had taken my final swan dive into the hospital parking lot, that my family and friends would attend my funeral service and have a chuckle or two during the canned comments from the preacher who probably knows me as well as the serial numbers on the money he is collecting for being there. Each time he references how "crazy" the world is, how bad would it be to have a collective "Banzai" from the crowd? Sure beats the hell out of crying about all the pain I had to go through mainlining toxic chemicals.

Hello and Goodbye

Hello new readers; one for sure and possibly a couple piggy backing prospects with the outside chance of gaining a following of emotionally advanced, I'm too cool for school teenage Freudian malcontents that truly wish to bang their parents but have become to lazy due to their prescribed overdosing of ADHD medication.

Goodbye to all that you thought was sacred, off limits, too risque, or falls into the ever expanding net of political correctness. If you are reading this, there is very little chance you will ever be in any kind of office and if by chance you somehow become elected even as the president of your neighborhood watch trust me, your days are limited.

My intentions in this blog are simple, direct, and pointed. I hope to discuss hot button topics and personal experiences that will have absolutely zero effect in enriching the lives of the reader. In staying true to today's societal form, this blog will be of benefit to me and those that are possibly into self mutilation of their own moral compass.

So before I jettison into the "blogosphere" as it seems appropriately named due to the demise in quality content, similar to our own atmosphere (read into that; filled with manufactured toxic bullshit) I will leave you with a quote from Robbin Williams that is not only slap nuts funny, but will indicate some of the future ramblings and views from your truly.

When discussing Michael Jackson's use of Propofol as a sleep agent with his doctor, his doctor states, "Using Propofol to fall asleep is like going under chemotherapy because you are tired of shaving your fucking head"