men

Farewell, old friend.

Yesterday, one of my favorite authors of all time passed away at the age of 66. He had been privately battling cancer. Michael Crichton wrote some of the greatest science fiction stories I've ever read, and more times than not, I found myself wondering if they were reports on events that actually happened. The Andromeda Strain and Terminal Man, for instance - both written like essays on actual events - yet, not at the expense of thrill and good storytelling. In his later years, Michael began politicizing his writing to the point I almost couldn't stomach the read anymore. State of Fear was one, then Next was really not even worth reading, in my opinion. I don't want to use this space to bash Michael's writing, but to say that it was evident he had an agenda. Maybe this explains some of that. At any rate, he will be remembered…

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There’s a letter in your mailbox!

Shit, piss, f**k, cunt, c**ksucker, motherf**ker, tits – fart, turd and twat. That’s what I wanted to scream out this morning when I heard George Carlin passed away last night. He died of heart failure in the hospital at the age of 71. Supposedly he checked himself in yesterday afternoon, complaining of chest pains. Now he’s dead.

George CarlinCarlin was my favorite comedian of all time. He speaks to the commoner with his jokes, and relates to us in those little ways that remind us we’re all human. Like, “Have you ever looked at your watch, and then didn’t know what time it was? So you look again, and you still don’t know. So you look again, then someone asks you – ‘What time is it?’ – and you say, ‘I don’t have any freakin’ clue!'” Almost all of his jokes were like that in early years.

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Is there a woman who can drive?

I had to miss work yesterday because of an injury. Let me tell you what happened. I (once again) was the victim of a CWDOCP – a Careless Woman Driver On a Cell Phone. Not a big deal, but it did render my vehicle undrivable this time. I was sitting at the intersection of my street and the main street, waiting patiently to get out of my neighborhood when a woman comes barrelling into the entrance, aiming for the wrong side of the median! It was obvious she had been going too fast, and since she didn’t want to set the phone down, she couldn’t stop fast enough, and rather than keep going and u-turn to come back to the entrance of the neighborhood, she decided to turn into the wrong side of the median. While I was there.

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  • Reading time:4 mins read

Shit or Get Off

Did you know there’s a certain code you’re supposed to follow when shitting in a public restroom? I had no idea. For instance, if someone walks in while you’re taking a dump, you’re supposed to tap your foot to let them know the bathroom is in use. Forget that there’s another whole empty stall right next to you. This foot-tap is called the Fred Astaire.

Furthermore, if you are that unfortunate soul who has just walked unsuspectingly into an occupied restroom, you are supposed to turn around and leave as soon as you learn the stall is occupied. Otherwise you are a “Turd Burglar”. Rock on, turd burglars of America. I say screw ’em! If you can’t shit with someone else in the room you have a special kind of problem that needs some attention.

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Chick Games

Why is it that women wear things that show off their beautiful bodies? That’s it. No buts attached to that question. We obviously aren’t allowed to look at them, so why is it that they force us to by wearing these things which accentuate their better parts? I’ve been less than happy with the results I get when I give them the attention they so obviously crave. Don’t tell me that these women don’t have a choice in what they buy. If the only clothing available on the racks was this stuff that shows midriff and cleavage, and hip-huggers, then all the old women out there would be wearing the same things.

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The Sinister Sisters Behind the Curtain

There’s no doubting that women rule the world. Anyone who doesn’t believe that, try living with one for a few weeks. You’ll catch on. I’m just wondering why so many of them are psycho. You remember that movie Beautiful Girls? Michael Rappaport says it perfectly: “They’re all sisters. You never let them behind the curtain. They’re all sisters.” What a brilliant man he was. That’s exactly what they are.

Otherwise, how would they all know when we screw up? And you notice whenever you’ve been single for a while and you finally find someone worth checking into, that’s when they all come to call. When it rains it pours, gentlemen. They all know. It’s like a little alarm in their heads go off saying “Johnnie’s got a girl now! Set tits to stun! Go get him girls!” And they do. They all come around. But you never see that shit happening when you’re single. Well, unless you’re like me. But that’s beside the point.

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Lines, lines, lines…

I’ve got something on my mind that’s been pissing me off lately. It’s about waiting in lines. I was standing at the grocery store the other night, waiting patiently to give them my money. The cashier two lanes over opens up and the dude behind me bolts over there like he’s running for his life. Then that checker steps out and says, “Sir, you can come down here.” So I walked on over there. This dude is all looking at me like he’s nervous, but at the same time, he wasn’t about to give me his place in line.

Now. My gripe is this: What in the hell makes him think he should be in front of me? I was in front of him in this line over here, and granted, he ran to the other one first. But my theory is that if a new checkstand opens, it should serve the people who have been waiting the longest. At the fronts of the lines. Not from the backs. I’ve been waiting ten minutes longer than this lunger, but he gets to be in front of me in the new line?

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Men Will Be Men

I just got into a “heated debate” with a girl friend of mine about the essence of a men’s club. She can’t stand topless dancers, and has no respect for them. Thinks it’s a bad deal for men to go to them. Thinks lowly of the men who go to them too. Has no respect for them. Well who the hell said anything about respect?

While I can think of several other places I would rather have gone for my bachelor party last Saturday night, and several reasons for each, I didn’t have the great providence of being my own best man. Thus I didn’t plan my own bachelor party. And we went to a titty bar. I didn’t object. I am a man. I like titties. (Tell me you didn’t know that.) Plus, it was my party.

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Why are men such douchebags?

I go out to the pool sometimes. You know, to swim? Remember that? You like jump in the water and swim around and enjoy the cool refreshing water and the warm sun. I’m pretty sure this is what the pool was originally intended for. But anyway, it’s all a big pissing contest now.

This chick comes out all wearing a nice bikini. So what starts happening is all the guys start getting out of the water and laying out like bitches trying to show off their bodies to this chick. As if any of them have a chance with her. Now granted these are all high-class guys, with the big tattoos on their back and stuff. You know, real men.

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  • Reading time:4 mins read