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Current Mood: Shitty (sweet Jesus H. Fuck I am witty)

Ballad Of The Lazy Bather

I was in the shower and couldn’t wait

Getting out to use the toilet—I hate

    As I shampooed my hair

    I relieved myself there

Then stomped and mashed that huge turd down the grate.

The Revolution Begins

After a long day of crying, cutting my arms, pushing down old ladies at the grocery store, setting out pools of anti-freeze at the dog park and just generally trying to console myself after finding out my ingenious idea of methodically hunting down and ritualistically killing every blogger on Blogger wouldn’t work to clean up the internet, I got another, as the kids are fond of saying, ‘rad‘ idea.

I remembered who I was. I came back to and decided to live up to my mantra for dealing with all things shitty:

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em;
then drown the motherfuckers in their own piss.

You can’t just casually say how horrible roadside crosses are. You can’t just ask people to think that they might be bad tribute to a loved one. You can’t just research the wrecks, find out the person the crosses are for caused their own death and just leave it at that.

No, no, no. You have to play their game. Embrace the metaphor, pretend they are awesome memorials and carry it on. Treat them like they are a tourist attraction, a destination for all to pilgrimage to and publicize the memorial by letting everyone know about how much of a shitty driver the retard who’s name appears on that cross was. You do that for every cross you find and let people who might put roadside crosses up know that you are actively looking for more to worship and you can’t wait to catalog theirs.

That’s how you deal with the horrible, horrible shit people unthinkingly do. So in that spirit, I am embracing Blogger and asking you to also.

Sign up for a blog with them. Be sure to supply it with an email you want to get rid of and a password you will never remember, that way the blog will be there forever, as god intended.

Then create one single post:

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em;
then drown the motherfuckers in their own piss.

Here’s mine:     http://porkjerky.blogspot.com/

Now, lets do that a million times over. Let’s create as many anti-Blogger Blogger blogs as we can. Maybe someone can create a Blogger blog listing all the anti-Blogger Blogger blogs that we set up. Then I’ll be able to say how you’re a bunch of brainless lemmings for following me and actually creating all those blogs, thus becoming the anti-Blogger Blogger blog anti-blogger.

The Blogs That Wouldn’t Die

Motherfucker damn it shit cock piss whore. This is why I will never go on a horrendous mass killing spree.

You can’t spend months and years, wondering if McDonald’s is the right hamburger joint to shoot up, planning what day to do it on, researching what caliber machine gun to use, contemplating if breakfast or lunch would yield a better death count, analyzing the market to find out which McDonald’s would be the best one, poring through legal code to find out which states will only give you life in prison for doing it, picking out what you should wear, deciding if you should or should not leave a manifesto, if so, writing, spell checking and having some one proof read the manifesto, and so on and so on trying to cover the myriad of other variables that will surely pop into your head and make you over think and research this whole thing to death.

At some point you have to say ‘Fuck it, its not going to be perfect.‘ and just kick open the doors to a McDonald’s and start firing indiscriminately.

Not me though. I never just act on brilliant ideas, but have to first research them to make sure they will work. Idiot.

I got the brilliant idea that if I got a list of every blogger on Blogger, tracked them down, execution-style killed them and sent Blogger a death certificate and a note saying they could now take that blog down, I would do be doing my part to clean up the web from the retarded amount of crap these fucks are responsible for spewing.

No dice.

I just had to look into it just a little further to make sure it would work. I couldn’t have just assumed it would work, killed a couple hundred bloggers and then tried to get their blogs taken down could I? Dumbass.

Before I even bought one round of ammo I searched to see how to get a blog on Blogger taking down. They are essentially there in perpetuity. Death nor inactivity nor inane rantings nor lack of a blog itself is cause for them to be removed. Once a blog is up on Blogger, only the person who signed up for it can take it down. And if they have a brain embolism and forget even how to wipe their own ass much less that they have a blog, its there to stay.

Now I know in the grand scheme of things, taking a long view at the whole thing, it won’t help clean up the internet But in the short term it would probably make me feel a whole lot better.

I don’t know. Let me pore over this some more—crunch a few numbers and do some more research on this.

Award Winning Worthlessness

I’ve explained the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man Shitty Blog Theory before: if you can imagine a shitty blog—it’s already been created. Here’s a quick example off the top of my head: a blog about vegan pets. It’s so shitty I am certain something like it exists.

And 15 seconds later, I found that it does: The Vegan Dog Blog. Someone call the ASPCA and tell me how awesome I am.

Pretty fucking awesome, sir.

Its like a cruel game you can play with yourself in between punching yourself in the nuts and touching your eyeball with a hot sauce covered finger. All you do is imagine something you would hate to exist, and it already does in blog form. With that said, the blog that won today’s Whenever I Feel Like Giving It Out Porkjerky.com Shitty Blog Award, is shitty in a way I didn’t even see coming.

I started off by wondering if I could find a blog about someone on their quest to get an associates degree. Those people are always good for a head shaking chuckle.

Have you ever meet someone gung-ho about junior college? It’s entertainingly sad, like meeting a 13 year old who want’s to grow up to be a CPA or the fat ugly girl in high school who puts in the yearbook that her goal is to have 6 kids by the age of 25 or watching a super sloppy drunk stripper fall out of her stilettos, break an ankle and crack her head into the pole. Entertainingly sad, in the right dose that is. Too much and it just makes you want to mercy kill them.

Unfortunately, I have meet many associate degree seeking go-getters in my life. They have all the passion and drive of a motivational speaker, with the talent and aptitude of a chiveless Wendy’s Baked Potato. If you have never seen someone so determinedly focused on pursuing such low hanging fruit, you really need to get to the local community college and shadow the president of their student union. I guarantee you it will be more entertaining than any car wreck or misbehaving child getting assaulted in public you have ever seen.

Unfortunately, I didn’t find that blog. I found the Online Associates Degree Blog which took a shitty idea (blogging) and multiplied it by itself. Its shitty squared. I don’t know how I missed it. It so simple, so shitty, so void of any value: I can’t believe it didn’t cross my mind that a blog like this would exist until I saw it.

It makes perfect sense now. It’s a blog aggregator. It steals posts from other blogs and creates posts on itself based on those outside posts. It’s essentially a blog echo. Or regurgitater. Or maybe a blog leech. No wait, I got it. Its like a parasite that feeds off the shit of its own species.

Like a news aggregator blog, it searches the internet for content to steal and make posts from. However, instead of stealing from news sites or the AP feed, it steals from other blogs. Righteous.

Congratulations Online Associates Degree Blog, you win a Porkjerky.com Whenever I Feel Like Giving It Shitty Blog Award. You truly add nothing of value to the internet. If only somehow it could find itself. Then it would form a blogging black hole—just constantly finding its own posts and reposting them as new posts until the gravitational pull of its own bullshit existence collapse in upon itself.

Oh well, a boy can dream.

Baby, I Know You Only Lie And Hit Me Because You Love Me

Now I know what a battered wife feels like. I’m hurt, pissed, vengeful and above all, I’ve fallen deeper in love with them the shittier they treat me.

A few weeks ago I mailed (via the U.S. Post Office–we really need a better term than ‘snail mail’ for this) about 35 letters offering various educational institutes (Georgetown University, Rhode Island Community College, Barbecue University, etc.) the excellent opportunity to give me an honorary MBA.

I got 2 responses.

So, I emailed the other 33 and asked them if they received my letter and the status of my honorary MBA.

The Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania emailed me back and explicitly lied to me. I couldn’t have asked for a better response. I want their MBA even more now.

That’s what you call credibility my friends. Sure other MBA programs are accredited and have distinguished alumni, but the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania lives and breaths MBA.

Now, if I was going after a philosophy degree or science degree or any other degree other than an MBA, the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania would be a horrible, horrible institution. But this is an MBA. They lied to me–they obviously practice what they teach. They understand what an MBA is about.

Their lie was that they said they don’t offer honorary degrees. As with most things in life I turned to google. I quickly found 3 instances of people who had received honorary degrees from Wharton.

Now, I know what you are thinking—how can you trust some random fucks on the internet who say they got an honorary degree from Wharton? How do you know the people who said they received the degrees weren’t themselves the liars?

Because the 3 instances I found where honorary degrees were said to be awarded were on the Wharton site itself:

So please, if you are thinking of getting your MBA, there is really only one choice: The Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania. They know what an MBA is truly about and have the ethics and experience to teach you properly.

Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania, you don’t have to apologize, you were right to treat me like that. I deserved it. You were just doing what was best. I’ll just tell people I fell.

Now let me get you a beer and give you a nice back rub. Baby, yous so good to me.

Happy Holidays

Site down for the holiday.

Happy 9/11 Eve

 

There’s no such thing as an innocent victim in America. It’s right there in the fine print of your social contract.

Now notice I am using the phrase ’in theory’ in the next sentence, so don’t get your big, Liberterian hemp panties in a bunch. In theory, America is a democracy. ‘Of the people for the people, by the people’, remember that load of crap people like to say in the hopes that repeating it often enough it will become true one day?

If you want that to be truly true, then America is you. Everything is your responsibility. Every car wreck, every suicide, every abortion, every abused child, every wrongly convicted inmate, every Rodney King beating, every bridge to no where, every Wall Street bailout, every Sha La La La, every Woo Oh Oh Oh, every civilian casualty, every war crime, every embargo that keeps medicine from brown babies ½ a world away is on you.

Everything is your fault and responsibility.

Not only that, everything is every other american’s fault and responsibility too. We are our country and government. If it is truly more than some feel-good platitude, then we have to take the good with the bad. If you really want to believe it’s the greatest nation because we the people control it, then you have to come to terms with the fact that the shittest thing done in and by our great country is the responsibility of each and every one of us.

You can’t just feel smug about sending a man to the moon, bringing down Hitler, and leading the fight against disease, poverty and injustice without admitting culpability for the Trail of Tears, nuking Japan, killing Randy Weaver’s wife and the tons of disgusting shit the FBI/CIA/NSA and military have done on our behalf that we will never know about.

So quit looking so sad and in disbelief when retribution for all that shit arrives. It’s pretty god damn disgusting and disingenuous. There can’t be any innocent victims in a country supposedly run for and by the people.

One Giant Crap For Mankind

You ever think as a young boy Neil Armstrong looked up into the night sky, held his thumb next to the moon, squinted and dreamed of being the first person to take a dump up there?

I like to think so.

Now it’s true the Russians beat us into shitting in space with Vostok 3 when Andrian Nikolayev dropped some satellites into orbit, as the colloquialism goes. And Valentina Tereshkova’s poop was 20 years old by the time Sally Ride was able to blast her hatch door and have the first american woman’s splashdown. However, to this day, those damn commies have never put a turd on the moon.

USA!   USA!   USA!   USA!

Unfortunately, no one will tell me who exactly the first person to crap on the moon was, but my guess it was either the crew of Apollo 11 (Armstrong/Aldrin) or Apollo 15 (Scott/Irwin). Apollos 11-14 all spent less than 36 hours on the moon, however with what I saw occuring because of nerves before the Boston Marathon, I can fully understand if Neil Armstrong had to pinch an anxious one off in the Lunar Module before taking those famous first steps.

Now, if he didn’t and no one else had to take a nervous poo, then either David Scott or James Irwin had to take a trucker crap (shit in a bag) up there because they spent about 3 days on the lunar surface.

Of course, the most disgusting thing about moon shit, even more revolting than the Apollo Bag system they used, is that no man has dropped a deuce up there in my lifetime.

Teach Them Well And Let Them Lead The Way

Saw another member of the Tribal Arm Band Tattoo Tribe this weekend.

Call me a romantic, but nothing, not even the most beautiful bride in the most beautiful wedding dress can ever come as close to being as attractive as a woman in a maternity cocktail waitress dress. I am certain ‘elastic’ is Latin for sexy fabric.

I’m not trying to give out any sex tips or say my way is better than yours, but every now and then I duct tape a sofa cushion to my girlfriend’s abdomen, have her put on one and we play 8-and-a-half-month-pregnant-cocktail-waitress/gropey-drunk.

Does that kid even have a chance? I’ve run a couple thousand computer simulations on that kid’s life and the best case scenario: behind bars for life at age 18. The only other way it see’s 21 is in a hospice or a wheelchair. That kid has no chance.

You think those people even realize their actions led to those consequences? Or do they just chalk it up to fate and bad luck that they are slinging Bud Lights when their water breaks? I mean, if she could make the connection between her actions now and the outcomes in the future she wouldn’t take her breaks outside so she can smoke a cigarette right?

Maybe I’m just an idealist. An idealist who is cataloging his shit for a year.

And you probably aren’t going to believe or even comprehend this, it’s the god’s honest truth though: While she did have a tattoo of a tribal arm band on her arm, and a cigarette in her hand, she didn’t have a wedding band on her finger.

Amazing.

This Tribal Arm Band Tattoo Tribe continues to amaze and more importantly, entertain me.

The Death Of Capitalism

We are getting close to the commemoration of the travesty that happened to the American way of life in September 2001. No not that one, the real one. It was after the planes hit on September 11th, it was when every gas station jacked up their prices immediately and started charging 4 dollars more per gallon than they had the day before. And all those dumbfuckers jumped at the chance to fill up because they thought the end was neigh.

That was an awesome time in the history of capitalism.

Awesome as in bad. Bad as in wrong. Wrong as in disgusting. Disgusting as in reprehensible. Reprehensible for what happened to the people who were charging it, not for the people paying it. Those consumers were fools and deserved to be parted with their money. The gas station owners were fucked over for playing the game everyone said is the best game in the world—capitalism.

Those gas station owners got in legal trouble for price gouging. Price gouging? That term doesn’t even make sense. Like ‘window driving’ or ‘fart falling’ or ‘breast cancer’ or ‘cement haunting‘. Oh you can put any noun and a gerund together, but that doesn’t make it a coherent term. Price gouging is nonsensical, especially with our economic system.

Same thing with scam artists, especially those who prey on the elderly or the less fortunate. Pardon me, but that is exactly what this country is based on. Picking out a target market, and getting them to give you the most money they will at the least cost to you. Welcome to capitalism you commie, pussy-loving faggot.

What’s the difference between getting old ladies to buy magazines they don’t need by enticing them with a sweepstakes they aren’t going to win and selling sugar coated shitballs as breakfast cereal to kids so they can get a crap prize inside the box?

Nothing.

If old people will give scam artists thousands of dollars because they think they will win sweepstakes, then those old ladies don’t deserve that money in the first place. Same with jacking up gas prices $4 overnight. If you, as a dumbfuck are willing to pay for it, then good for gas station owners. That’s how the system is suppose to work. Fools and their money are supposed to be parted.

They teach supply, demand and logic in school, but I guess they just aren’t applicable in the real world.