porkjerky plog
Poop Bucks Splashdown
I think its been over 3 weeks since I brought this up, and since you’re not anywhere near being a fucking genius you probably need constant reminding so that you continue to retain this thought in that feeble brain of yours.
So here it is: I’m a fucking genius.
This instance of my geniusocitinessish is on par with my honorary MBA, my toilet garden, how I unregistered to vote and the time I got my retarded cousin to drink his own pee and then ask for some of mine.
This one is nouveau retro-cool.
Sunday night, I get my change back from the Wal-Mart cashier and one of the bills is stamped with wheresgeorge.com. It’s so old and stupid I have to do it, like being able to fuck the homecoming queen at your 10 year high school reunion. Sure, now she has 5 kids, weighs 320 pounds and that cute beauty mark from yesteryear has turned into a hairy wart, but that’s what makes it so stupidly awesome that you have to do it.
I get home log that dollar bill and all the others I have—and Eureka, inspiration strikes. I take one of the previously unrecorded bills, record it, fold it, pack it in a balloon, dip it in olive oil and swallow it like a heroin mule. I anxiously wait 24 hours and voila, George just took a trip he regrets.
But wait, don’t call yet, there’s more.
I dug through my toilet, retreived the balloons, got the dollars out, sanitized my hands by quickly patting them on my jeans and I am heading for Vegas to return those bills back into their natural habitat–skanky strippers’ g-strings and video poker machines.
True fucking story. All those colored pieces in the toilet bowl are balloon covered dollars.
So Charlie, if you’re one of the select few to find a golden ticket, rush straight home, wake up Grandpa Joe and log it into the url that appears on it. But don’t you dare let Slugworth get it. And remember, those dollars are like large mouth bass on a sunday morning fishing show. Don’t eat them. Don’t mount them and put them in your office. Catch and release. If you are lucky enough to come across a dollar that has come out my asshole, please keep it circulating. George would have wanted it that way.
Pay it forward.
The Turd That Wouldn’t Flush
Speaking of Snoopy and peanuts and people pouring out shitty drivel to the web, Charles Schulz’s comic was as worthless as the undigested legumes in my shit.
Even from a young age I realized that there was nothing good in it. I mean, I probably, like most of the world, read over 2000 Peanuts comics in my life. But why?
Like everyone else I was conditioned, it’s just what you did. It must be at the top of the comic page for a reason. Then I realized something about Peanuts and saw it applied to more than just that shitty Charlie Brown comic.
Peanuts is, because Peanuts was.
That’s it. That’s why it was so famous and always atop the funnies in every paper-because it was so famous and always atop the funnies in every paper. It’s a self-fulfilling turd.
That’s how society works. We accept the accepted.
Of all the people you know, while they eat it, is there one person among them who thinks McDonalds has the best hamburgers? Baseball is the slowest, most inaction-packed sport on network television, yet it’s the national pastime. You’re telling me that out of the 537 federally elected positions in this nation’s government that its just a happy coincidence that not even one of them was elected while running as a non-republicans nor non-democrat?
We are a society built on not thinking qualitatively about the shit we ingest. As long as someone in the past did it, it must be ok. No need to think about it, just open up your mouth/eyes/ballot and take in the load of crap you haven’t devoted one ounce of thought to.
Do you remember a well-drawn Peanuts? No. Do you remember a well-written Peanuts? No. What about even one ounce of wit or something halfway profound? Nope and nope. Peanuts owes its success to its success. It is because it was. Like a turd that won’t flush.
After a week or so people just accept it. After awhile longer people just assume that turd came with that model of commode. A sort of starter turd to help you get going with your crap. At some point, people take comfort in the fact that it is there and even welcome that turd that won’t go down. They expect that turd to be there. If by chance that turd ever does flush, those same people will be mad/sad. Not because the turds gone, but because something changed in their life that they expected. Maybe they even try to get it put back to like it was for no reason other than that’s how it was.
Oh sure, oh sure, everyone remembers that Lucy pulled out the football as Charlie Brown went to kick it, he always got his clothes knocked off when pitching, Snoopy was the Red Baron, Marcy called Peppermint Patty ‘Sir’, Linus had a blanket, Schroeder played piano, grownups talked funny, Pigpen was dirty and something about a Great Pumpkin that never came.
Witty? No.
Well drawn? No.
Repetively beat into our heads through years of familiarity? Yes and that’s how we like it.
Web Middlemen
Fuck blogs. Seriously, fuck blogs. Sister-fucking, middlemen of the internet.
Last week I found a divorce blog that was shittily written by a person you could tell thought themselves a good writer. They knew how to spell, had a big vocabulary, knew the rules of grammar and knew how to string phrases together, yet what they wrote seemed like they wrote it just so they could write something. They had nothing to say and instead just wanted to show off their writing style.
I compared it to Snoopy’s novel. I think I remember that all he did was write these attention getting phrases but without a real story, ‘It was a dark and stormy night. Suddenly, a shot rang out. A door slammed. The maid screamed…”. No real story, just a series of good phrases. That’s how her blog and to my recollection, Snoopy’s novel were written.
To be sure though, I tried to find a couple lines of his novel to verify my memory. I figure its 2009; I can do that in 15 seconds right? Jump on google, type in ‘Snoopy’s Novel’ and I would have a list of links that provided some examples of comics that included that.
I was reserved to the fact, that this being 2009 at all that some of those links, probably even the topmost, would lead to blogs. That’s just the way the web works. When you have a billion monkeys randomly bashing on keyboards, saving their pablum to Blogspot, eventually every search you do will yield a blog posting. I’m not all right with that, but its how life and the internet now work.
Sure enough the number one result in google for ” Snoopy’s Novel” was a blog. Naively I figured to click on the link and then have the text I needed to confirm my memory. Nope. It’s a post that just provides a link to another, shittier blog that has the actual text I was looking for.
I had to go through 2 middle men to get the information I wanted. First google, which I am accustomed to, then to that worthless blog which does nothing but junk up the google results, then onto the shitty blog with the actual information I wanted.
This world wide web thing is turning into a big Amway scam. Just creating unnecessary layers to the internet between people and the information they desire. Seriously, please put down the blog and step away from the information highway. You have been bumped back down to read-only privileges. Fucking worthless middlemen bloggers.
Happy Pedophile Day Eve
My my my. Why aren’t you just the scariest little ghost. And are you Spiderman? That’s a very nice costume. And you look like the prettiest little princess ever. Oh, I am sorry, my mistake. Tinkerbell, you’re the prettiest Tinkerbell ever.
Happy Pedophile Day Eve. May all your hopes, dreams, wishes and fantasies be delivered to your doorstep tomorrow night and be bought for just a mini-Snickers.
God bless us everyone.
When Being Right Goes Wrong
I have been born with a curse: Objectivity.
For some strange reason I can listen to people who seemingly disagree on a subject, understand their positions, see how they got there and agree with everyone.
Even worse, I can take into account reality and apply it. It’s really sad sometimes; I don’t know why god chose to give me this affliction. I really wish there was a cure.
There are some people who can only see the idealistic side of things—the real world doesn’t exist for them. Like pro-lifers, these anti-health care nuts and atheists. Everyone who aligns themselves with a group always talks about shit that only exists in the ether for them, they always disregard reality.
No one can ever even for a second consider all the facts. Just taking a second and looking at the person with whom they differ and consider that they aren’t crazy. Stopping for just a moment to see if their opinion might have even a sliver of reason to it would be like surrendering to these people.
I like vanilla, that’s the only ice cream for me. Never had any other kind, but I know they all suck because they aren’t vanilla. I’d probably puke if I even tasted strawberry. Don’t want to chance that. Vanilla for me please.
Their mind is closed on the subject. They never consider the reality or the alternative—because to them there is none. With some people you can’t even think of making a change to the system even if you could empirically prove it would benefit them.
These dumbfucks will even go against their best interest to be right and have the system followed.
Today I bought a pair of jeans and one of these dumbfucks was in front of me at the counter. He was arguing about how his coat jacket rang up wrong. There was a 20% sale (this is going to be a story problem so get out some scratch paper and a pencil) on certain type of coat jackets which was to be deducted at the register. His coat which was legitimately part of the sale, rang up as not being part of the sale. The barcode on it was wrong and it scanned as a different brand of jacket and at a price of $90. A visual inspection of the jacket’s tags confirmed it was in fact the brand on sale and ringing up wrong.
He was arguing vehemently, he wanted the right price and the discount. No matter the actual outcome, the process had to be followed. He just couldn’t live in a world where his item was improperly rung up—no matter the ultimate consequence to him.
Luckily he won.
The cashier manually keyed in the price on the tag, $140 and then took the 20% discount. The man was vindicated and happy. Until I snorted and chuckled behind him and he turned and followed my eyes to see that I was looking at his total.
It took him a moment to do the math, but then that stupid fucker realized his quest for correctness cost him $22 ($140 – 20% > $90). He was embarrassed but stuck to his smugness: ‘Yeah, but it rang up right. This way my receipt will be right if I need to return it.’.
Another snort and chuckle from me followed by ‘Stick it to the man’.
Then he took a second stared at the total, checked the tags on the coat to make sure that it wasn’t really the $90 brand of jacket, stared back at the total and paid.
Anorexia Explained
Epiphany about anorexics:
What if it hasn’t to do with diets,
Getting grossly fat,
Or any of that?
Maybe those crazy cunts hate taking shits
Our Collective Bipolarishness
If yesterday’s post showed us anything, it’s that people love to tell you that they love and hate stuff. No matter how hypocritical or obvious it should be. With blogs, the internet is turning into a constant stream of our collective conscious. And that’s nothing to brag about.
On average, we are pretty fucking average. Unfortunately people don’t seem to know it and feel that their mundane thoughts, feelings, likes and dislikes are things we all want to hear about. And they tell us. And tell us and tell us.
So, here’s some more things people love and hate. Tears of boredom, commence now:
| I hate… | I love… | |
| everything | 1,377,421 | 214,526 |
| this | 7,933,448 | 41,591,635 |
| my mom | 813,598 | 749,724 |
| genital warts | 0 | 3 |
| women | 108,198 | 31,641 |
| school | 1,577,655 | 616,870 |
| love | 535,606 | 4,858,791 |
| hate | 1,014,417 | 585,408 |
| you | 1,330,425 | 25,630,726 |
| hating hate | 7 | 0 |
| loving hate | 1 | 1 |
| hating love | 4 | 6 |
| myself | 497,293 | 1,551,687 |
Blogs’ Love-Hate Relationship With Themselves
With 100% of precincts votes tallied here are your results for phrases appearing in blogs. I am both dissappointed and disinterested.
| I hate… | I love… | |
| myspace | 214,405 | 111,227 |
| 64,768 | 83,346 | |
| livejournal | 47,721 | 169,566 |
| 18,119 | 92,499 | |
| blogs | 102,622 | 85,243 |
| blogging | 57,826 | 335,999 |
| the internet | 533,210 | 1,829,471 |
And remember, if you didn’t blog, you can’t complain. Your blog makes a difference. Blog the vote, blog or die, blah blah blah, who gives a fuck.
Picture This, Everyone Else Has
By my count, including this blog and the image I use for invalid pages for this site, I have added 259 pictures of shit to the internet.
And that piece of shit high school English teacher said I’d never contribute anything to society. He’s looking pretty stupid right about now.
259 images of my shit–Quite impressive if I do say so myself. Of course for the web, my contributions are just a drop in the toilet. On this thing we call the internet, which was once primarily used for defense and academic purposes, I found a figurative shit load of pictures of literal shit.
Using just the word ‘feces’ on Google images I got:
And so on and so on. Any type of shit you want to see, you can. That was just ‘feces’ too. While I have both the time and energy to think of a ton of synonyms for crap and research them, I’m afraid of the results I will unearth.
God bless civilization. Within 40 years of putting a man on another celestial body and 40 months of developing an over the counter method for bleaching our assholes, we have taken yet another gigantic leap. We have cataloged innumerable images of our own waste.
While I am disappointed I am not the most prolific at it, I am thankful that I am able to do my humble part.
Divorce Week Denouement
There are just way to many divorce blogs to point and laugh at in a week. I like to think that the next Lorenna Bobbit, Nicole Simpson, Lacy Peterson or even Brin Hartman is out there right now spilling her guts to the internet ether about how her marriage is falling or has fallen to shit for us to all to read and enjoy.
So, while I am done looking up divorce blogs this week, I turn it over to you to continue on your own. The Since My Divorce Blog is a good place to start. It’s updated with random people’s tails of divorce. And when that gets stupid, google is your friend:
Blog Search: ‘Divorce’ in title
Blog Search: ‘My Divorce’ in post
Remember, its up to all of us to make sure their drivel doesn’t go unmocked. And again, happy anniversary mom and dad.
