What the Hell Have I?

A little something for the right-wingers who pass by.

2008-12-16T22:23:00.000-08:00

Everyone should know how hard times are now. There are thousands of over-qualified people begging for jobs. College graduates who can't use their engineering degree are now working with teenagers in fast food joints. Mechanics are working at Wal-Mart. I'm a Culinary Arts major working in a corporate kitchen (one at the bottom of the barrel, if you know what I mean) because all the positions in the high-class restaurants were all full, so I get to use my degree by throwing pre-made country fried steaks in a deep fryer and flipping pancakes for drunks who want breakfast at 10:45 PM.

At this wonderfully greasy job, I work with a far-right "compassionate conservative." I also work with a lot of dish-washing Haitian people who don't speak much English. The Republican needed a bus tub, so rather than just asking for a bus tub, she tried to get their attention. First of all, she's never bothered to learn any of their names, so she tried tapping on the counter. Yeah, that works in an already-loud dish pit. She then began beating on the counter, cussing and yelling for "a goddamn bus tub" and the one closest to her, genuinely offended, gave her a bus tub. Sure, maybe they don't understand "hey, you fucking voodoo coon, get me a goddamn bus tub!" it was pretty obvious that she wasn't being friendly. She walked away saying "if you're gonna live in this country, learn to speak English!"

I lost it. "Fuck you! Did the pilgrims understand Navajo Indian, or Cherokee, or whatever, when they came over and started taking land? Did anyone speak Native when they gave them polio, raped the women, and forced them to shitty land? Did those Dutch motherfuckers speak African when they turned people into slaves? Hey, do you hate black people? I mean, people who shared your opinion brought them over here."

Her response? "Whatever. It's what I believe." Anyone who uses "whatever" as an argument is an idiot. You have no valid reasoning to back up the bullshit falling out of your mouth.

To anyone who believes this, I fucking dare you to work a day picking fruit, washing dishes, or weeding yards in 100 degree plus weather Then I challenge you to live a week in their countries. I'll be the first to say that I think a lot of minorities are milking it, (but hopefully you can tell I don't side with Nazis, either), but for fuck's sake, how can you say that they're taking your job? They're not working the grill, and you damn sure aren't washing dishes. They know the words that they need to know: Hot, bus tub, hose, behind you, plates, please, and thank you.

Oh, don't forget the fact that unless you're Native American, then you're an immigrant and English might not have been your grandparents' first language, and the only reason English is the predominant language and Christianity is the main religion is because it was forced upon people who were here long before we were.

Second: Having a Jesus tattoo, a nose ring, and a Bible while still bashing gay people and banning books from your "hardcore church" doesn't make you a cool Christian. It makes you a dick with a nose ring.

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Now playing: Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds - The Curse Of Millhaven
via FoxyTunes

For the yankees:

2008-11-27T20:10:00.000-08:00

Okay, not all the yankees, just the ones that act like wiggers.

Wait, I'm not explaining myself right. Wiggers drive jacked up cars with overblown hydraulics and obnoxious rims while blasting Lil' John from a cheap Wal-Mart woofer while wearing gang colors and flashing signs that are meaningless to them. And if that's not enough, they try to cryp walk. Did I spell that right? I don't know. I'M NOT BLACK. Oh, my point: These kids are scared shitless of black people.

Much like these trendy jackholes from above the Mason/Dixon line find Southern culture "quaint," find our food "delish," and even buy those Goin' South compilations only losers and insomniacs see on TV at 5 in the morning. Oh and you adore the Southern aspect of True Blood. But when it comes to the real South? We're racist, gun-toting cousin fuckers that anyone with half a brain stays away from.

Allow me to give you some advice that's been passed down from the West Virginians in my family: Air freshener in the bathroom still smells like shit. Confused? Let me explain. You're shit. You go ahead and be whatever version of white you want to be, and leave the fried food and twin guitar solos to the pros. You're not gonna hear us talking about how freakin sweet a hard roll with buttah is, so we'd appreciate the same from you.

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Now playing: Bad Religion - Los Angeles Is Burning
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Attention All Southerners

2008-10-26T00:27:00.000-07:00

Being born and raised in the South, I have to get a few things off my chest.

First and foremost, To everyone in New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, or anywhere in the Northeast, get over yourselves. We get it. Everyone in the South is a cousin fucker with an IQ lower than that of room temperature. At least we're smart enough to stay here and not move to your part of the country, plant a Confederate flag in the front yard, and piss and moan about how everything was better down South. Go back to New Wherever and choke on a hot dog at Yankee Stadium.

Secondly, since I just mentioned baseball, I have to share my disgust with this waste of time being known as the national pastime. Why would a country that was founded on blood and sweat take so much pride in a sport played by people who are too frightened to play in the rain? Baseball is for bitches, and it's fucking un-American. I played hockey until my knees gave out, and you don't need to point out that hockey is a Canadian sport. Even Canada, as worthless as it is, is responsible for one good thing, and don't say "but what about free healthcare?" because free healthcare is a fucking myth. The point is, we played hockey in the blazing sun, pouring rain, snow, and everything in between. We bled. Hell some of us lost our baby teeth on the concrete rink. All with absolutely no fear of getting our clothes dirty if it rained.

And if you don't like hockey, try football. Ever see a football game get rained out? Check out ESPN every once in awhile for their list of the ten most dangerous football games, in which these guys played in blizzards and hurricanes. There's just as much danger of getting electrocuted on a football field as there is on a baseball diamond.

If you want a much better view on baseball, go hear what George Carlin had to say about it, but if you're too lazy, I'll condense it for you: BASEBALL IS FOR WHINY BITCHES. End of story.

Finally, country music. While ripping CDs and putting downloaded albums into my Zune (Yeah, I'm a high tech redneck), musicians like Shooter Jennings, Reckless Kelly, Cross Canadian Ragweed, Micky & the Motorcars, Handsome Family, and Hank Williams III were all classified as "alt country." What the fuck is alt country? I'm sick and goddamn tired of bullshit pop acts using Mexican-made guitars and Japanese drum machines to play songs written by the same assholes who write for Britney Spears winding up in the top ten on the country charts.

IT AINT COUNTRY. Since when did writing your own songs, working hard to play an instrument (if you think country is easy to play, give chicken-pickin a try, or sit in front of a pedal steel guitar and see how good you really are) and making your music known through relentless touring make a band alternative? This bothers me, because the bands I mentioned are going the way of Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, George Jones, David Allen Coe, etc. What is Johnny Cash considered? Is he now an alternative to this top 40 twangy pop bullshit?

III is right - the Grand Ole Opry aint so grand anymore.

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Now playing: Reckless Kelly - Seven Nights In Eire
via FoxyTunes

If you're into raw cuisine, this ain't the place for you.

2007-10-27T20:02:00.001-07:00

You want to hear something so arsed out that even I can't wrap my warped mind around it?

My entire family, with the exception of myself, my fiancee, and my mom, have started eating "raw cuisine." Just forget, if you can, how bad Thanksgiving is going to be this year, and try to focus on the fact that they are condemning us for not joining them.

So here's the story: My cousin (Spencer) has spent most of his life praying and obeying the words of wisdom Joseph Smith pulled out of his arse. I bet that fucker's still laughing. Now he has a stage 4 aggressive brain tumor and has been given two years to live, and that's with radiation therapy.

His older brother is on the diet (when he's around the rest of the family, that is), and he's so out of shape he can't walk up half a flight of stairs without hanging onto the rail and gasping for breath, and the same applies to the youngest of the three brothers. The eldest is 6'2" and weighs close to 400 pounds, the youngest, 5'6" and 250+, the middle, 5'8" and 333 (the doctors keep us posted on his weight due to radiation), and none of the extra weight is muscle. Their wives are in no better shape, either, especially the middle son's (the one with cancer, just to avoid confusion), who is a whopping 5'3" and well over 300 pounds. Her knees don't bend. When she sits on a couch, her legs stick out like a baby's arms. She can't walk down a flight of stairs without gasping for air.

No one on this goddamn diet is in any shape and they've been living healthy all their lives. Not eating healthy, mind you, since they didn't get fat eating bean sprouts and shooting wheat grass. No drinking. No smoking. No fucking caffeine. I can go on about how tall they are, how much they weigh, and how unhealthy they are, but I think you get my point.

While at Spencer's house not too long ago, they all tried to get me to do a shot of wheat grass with them. I refused, and of course I got jumped. Much like back in third grade when damn near every black kid in school picked on the skinny little Irish fuck, I held my own. I called them out on their bad habits. I told them that they're not going to undo years of damage, or cure cancer, with a crash course in raw veganism. By the way, from what I can tell, the woman who wrote the book that changed their lives looks like wet leather stretched and dried over a fence post. Yeah, I want to take advice from a skeleton with skin. I'd rather go on a zombie diet. At least then I don't need to think of creative ways to get protein (insert cum joke here).

I'm not going to go into my mom's health because she has a lot of problems due to her age (and a brown recluse bite on her leg), but my fiancee and I both have high-stress jobs. We drink like the Micks we are. We have horrible eating habits because of our jobs. We sleep like crackwhores because of our hours. Would you like to know the biggest problems we have? Nerve deafness from birth, and bad knees from hockey, respectively.

We can both work circles around anyone in the family and I'm pretty sure we're gonna outlive the rest of them (and that's not a cancer joke, so I'd appreciate it if any cancer survivors and family members, etc. would not leave rude comments).

It's going to take something more life-altering than watching my brother-in-law throw up from a shot of wheat grass to get me to stop eating meat, so don't think preaching to me about animal cruelty is going to make me change my mind. Just do me a favor and respect the fact that I'm not dunking you in in cow entrails because you don't eat meat.

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Now playing: Shooter Jennings - This Ol Wheel (Feat. Doug 'The Ragin' Cajun' Kershaw)
via FoxyTunes

The one where I shatter your useless testicles.

2007-10-06T16:59:00.000-07:00

As I've said before, one of my favorite thing is cooking. One of my least favorite things, as you should fucking well know, is bullshit in any form. I go to a ~~Culinary Arts~~ technical school. Some folks there are like I am; they want to cook and for whatever circumstance, whether it be finances, location, family issues, etc., can't go to a decent school with a good reputation. Most of the fuckers there, however, are there because they can't do anything else. For example, their guidance counselors, sometimes court-appointed, will ask "what's your favorite thing?" And the student-to-be will respond with something like "cherry pie" or "fried chicken and biscuits" and the counselor, gleefully, will exclaim, "you must want to be a cook!" before moving on to the next contributing member of society and make a similar diagnosis regarding people who like reading Hustler and cosmetology.

Some of the latter are in the kitchen I'm studying in now. One asshole in particular, I'll call him "Crisco" since he not only uses it in every recipe, he looks like if I were to punch him in the face, my fist would slide off because of the grease content of his skin, can't fucking cook. Every single thing he touches turns to shit. I can't stress just how much he fucks up. He doesn't know how to make caramel, and anyone who knows even the basics of baking or desserts knows how to fucking make caramel.

But he's not content with fucking his own food up and failing the class; he insists on fucking everyone else's projects up. He will try to make sure no one's looking and punch all the air out of someone's proofing bread dough. He'll turn the fan in the convection oven on high when someone puts a cake in to the batter gets blown to shit. He'll sneak drops of food coloring in to make a pretty green into a baby-shit brown.

Here's my personal favorite: The school has an 800-pound floor mixer
used for making very large quantities of bread dough. I learned the hard way that it malfunctions and sometimes turns itself back on briefly and does a few revs around the bowl. This happened the other day to me while I was making doughnuts and pinned my hand between the hook and the mixer when I was scraping the bowl down. Note: Don't call me a moron for this because scraping the bowl down is necessary; now I just turn the mixer at the breaker before I do since I had to go to the emergency room because everyone who saw it thought my hand was broken. I'm surprised it wasn't. Had the mixer been on a higher speed or done a few more revs around, my hand would have been shattered. Anyway...back to Crisco.

In my rush to the hospital, I left my thermometer there. I got back the next day to find out that my thermometer had been shattered. I thought someone had dropped it, which would have been an honest mistake. A few witnesses told me that Crisco saw it and started slamming it against the table until it was in pieces. I confronted him about it and asked him if he planned on paying me for the thermometer he shattered for the fuck of it. He got a deer-in-headlights look and said "what thermometer?" I kicked him in the balls so hard he will be tasting his own jizz for a month. I hope to Christ I made him useless to a woman. Or a man. He threw up on the sidewalk and I walked away. He hasn't been at school since.

So I have some advice for you: If you're tired of someone else's bullshit, do something about it. I'm not telling you to shatter someone's nuts because you can get in serious trouble for that and you're probably stupid enough to try to sue me for it. What I am saying is there are always measures you can take to put someone in their place, no matter how extreme.

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Now playing: Gogol Bordello - Think Locally Fuck Globally
via FoxyTunes

The one where I taze you, bro.

2007-09-26T18:14:00.000-07:00

I'm sick and goddamn tired of everyone making a huge deal about that dumb shit who got tazed at University of Florida. You know why? Because he fucked things up.

I know John Kerry is a dirtbag and I'd like to think you know it too, but I think you're too dumb, or just too stubborn to admit it.

That jackass was asking legitimate questions the deserved answers, and Kerry was being ~~an asshole~~ himself and bullshitting his way out of answering, and instead of quietly sitting down, he got himself shocked, and he deserved it; if not for his unnecessary disturbance, then for being a fucking moron.

I'll be the first to say that if being an obnoxious jackass was an offense punishable by taser I would have been stunned so many times my ass would blast lightning every time I farted. But he did more than be an obnoxious jackass. If he just sat down, everyone would have wondered why John Kerry didn't just answer the goddamn questions, proving once and for all that Kerry is a ketchup-sucking scumbag who doesn't deserve anything he has.

I was part of a discussion with a few people today over why Bush is a good/shitty president and what would have happened if Kerry had won, and my stance remains the same: You assholes should have voted for me. Granted, I wasn't on the ballot and none of you even know who the hell I am anyway but I would do what needs to be done.

One person said that Bush did a good job with Iraq because we need to play mind games with the world; I agree, to a point. Another said Kerry would have scared our enemies shitless because he already scares most Americans.

Here's my thoughts, and if you keep reading this crap you must want to know what I'm thinking: Bush didn't need to invade/occupy Iraq and John Kerry is too much of a shitstain to do anything to another country, threatening or not.

Everyone will tell you that the news is untrue, to go to "real sites" to find the truth, which is that Bush sucks, that he's getting paid in ways no one can imagine for this, and so on.

Well the truth is, and this is what troops fresh from the Middle East have said: They want to slit your throat for having blue eyes. That's not the racist scumbags talking, either, and they aren't just referring to the extremists or the zealots.

They've all said the same thing: That they're doing a good thing for the people there, but that they're doing it the wrong way. I agree with my friend who said that Bush is doing the right thing by attacking Iraq to play a mind game with everyone who would fuck with us, but rather than sending troops there to occupy and fix whatever problems that will resurface as soon as American troops leave, the goddamn place should have been carpet-bombed.

Don't nuke it. We need the oil. Carpet bomb it and wipe every motherfucker out. Then we have a parking lot, oil, and the heat would turn some of the sand into glass which we can use to repair homes of Katrina victims. You think that wouldn't fuck with everyone else? Psychological warfare is great and all that, but if you go read up on the Cold War all you'll find out is that both countries lived in fear for awhile before learning that nothing would happen. Occupying a country isn't a way to fuck with anyone else because they can just as easily do the same to us without us even knowing. That would do a lot more damage.

So how did I go from the "Don't tase me, bro!" guy to a political rant? Well, I'm not sure but here's my point: He sucks, Kerry sucks, Bush sucks, Hillary Clinton sucks, Bill Clinton sucks, Barak Obama sucks, anyone else running will suck, Iraq sucks, and you're either gonna love me or call me an unbelievable asshole for this post, and you suck either way.

Goodnight everybody!

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Now playing: Acid Bath - Dr. Seuss is Dead
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The one where everyone realizes The Sims is a load of shit.

2007-09-22T13:30:00.000-07:00

In addition to cooking, which you might have read in my last post, I also love video games. I will pwn your ass at almost any game in the Mario series (Excluding the ones past Mario 64 because I still can't get the hang of that goddamn N64 thumb stick). I know every move in the Street Fighter series, every Mortal Kombat fatality, how to kill the Weapons in Final Fantasy VII, and I think I know damn near every game which utilizes the Konami Code. I beat The Legend of Zelda before I could walk. Not really, but pat yourself on the back if you get that reference.

Granted, there are games I'll never play, some by circumstance, some by choice. One of the games that falls into the latter category is The Sims. I have a message for everyone who plays it:

GET A FUCKING LIFE.

This isn't anything against the younger folks who play it; you can't help it. You can't legally get a job or start a family without pulling way too many strings, so you can stop reading here and continue sitting with the wife you'll never meet in the hot tub you'll never own that sits on the porch you'll never build.

To the rest of you, particularly those who sit on your fat arses eating Doritos and jacking off, wondering why your dick is orange, whining about how you hate your bitch tits, while spending all your goddamn time playing a game where your character has to get a life: Kill yourself.

Why the fuck are you playing a game where you force your character to get a life, get a job, start a relationship, raise a family, and get a dog? Why don't you just tell your mom you'll be back in a little while so you can get all that started? Scared of sunlight? Have an anxiety disorder? Or are you the fucking Elephant Man? There must be some reason you're in your 30's and still playing life-simulator games.

The reason a lot of people play video games is because they want to do something they're unable to do. They want to play hockey, tear someone's head off, or steal a car and do a drive-by in a rich neighborhood. Some people play because it's fun to do something you could never, ever do in real life, like eat shrooms and stomp turtles or, well, steal a car and do a drive-by in a rich neighborhood.

I think I just figured you Sims fuckers out. You want to do something you could never do in real life, like have sex with someone other than yourself. Or leave your house.

The only advice I can offer is to stop spending hours trying to get the nude patches to work and go find a real human to interact with. Who knows, your new friend might even have a dog you can help to take care of.

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Now playing: Trivium - Master Of Puppets
via FoxyTunes

This one is for the drunks who keep this country running.

2007-09-21T18:51:00.001-07:00

I cook and I love it. I spend 90 hours a week in a few different kitchens cooking, baking, and prepping, and I'll admit that sometimes it gets to me. Sometimes, it's the rich assholes I cook for who saw Hell's Kitchen the night before and want their plate to look exactly like the one on TV. Sometimes it's the stress of needing to make 500 assorted dinner rolls for a little league championship dinner. But it doesn't matter what the cause of stress is, or even if I have any at all. I drink. I love it. I'm not going to stop. I'm sure you can accuse me of being an alcoholic and for all I know, you might be right, but what you don't realize is that I enjoy being drunk, especially with someone I love. I also enjoy being drunk while I do something I love, whether it be playing guitar with a friend, writing, playing video games, or...cooking.

Maybe I'm addicted. Maybe I need a few of your twelve steps. Maybe I am powerless over alcohol and maybe your higher power can save me. Maybe I've been drinking since I was six years old and have been functioning since then with no problem whatsoever. I can hold a steady job, full-time education, and a perfect relationship together while drunk or sober. I can cook your food, to order, just like it was on Hell's Kitchen, in fifteen minutes, while drunk. Or sober.

I am not a bad person, whether I'm addicted or not. Maybe you're clean. Maybe you've never had a drop. Maybe you've even hopped on the wagon and you've been riding it for years. Do me a favor and tell your higher power to fuck itself.

And you can do the same.

We cook your food. We fix your computers. We unclog the toilets you overflow, and we clean the shit from your white tile floors. We babysit your kids and give them the attention you can't because you're too busy with the PTA, Boyscouts, or church.

I'm not saying "don't fuck with us" because I don't want to plagiarize Chuck Palahniuk, but think twice before you judge us, because chances are, you already owe us.

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Now playing: Dropkick Murphys - God Willing
via FoxyTunes

The One About Bullshit, part I.

2007-08-10T18:11:00.000-07:00

I'm going to start this post by letting you know how much I hate the word "drama" when referring to "bullshit."

When someone in a forum dedicated to Dragon Ball Z makes a post saying "I don't mind the purple blood!" all of the other angry fat 30-year-olds pretending to be God's gift to whatever accuse him of starting "drama" because only a fucking poser likes watered-down anime! (Note: All anime sucks. Get over it.)

When the angry ex-girlfriend tells everyone her former Beau's cock is so tiny it gets lost in his bush (no matter how tiny it might really be), she's starting "drama."

And when the whiny high school kid comes to school with cuts on his arms because his parents don't support his way of life (meaning they won't lend him the credit card to buy overpriced bondage pants from Spencer's Gifts), he started drama.

No, he didn't. None of them did. The angry anime nerds are guilty of causing bullshit. The ex-girlfriend who claims to hate her ex yet can't stop talking about him or his pecker is not starting drama; she's spreading bullshit. And the Crow-wannabe who isn't dead yet but has fantasies about getting murdered by the kid who gave him a wedgie so he can come back from the grave and exact his revenge with a wedgie so powerful the bully is torn in two? HE IS FULL OF BULLSHIT.

Stop confusing the two. Allow Merriam-Webster to define drama for you. You want drama? Go rent Regarding Henry, Schindler's List, and About Schmidt. Make some low-fat popcorn, season it with Mrs. Dash, and cry into your Diet Coke bottle all goddamn night. But don't be polite and tell someone who's painting the town brown with bullshit to "stop causing drama." That person is an asshole and you are a moron.

Having said that, I have a tale of real-life bullshit. Let me give you some of the background for this particular bullshit saga. Ok, it's not a saga. Yet.

The story starts and ends with the same three people: My fiancée, Reagan, her roommate, Caitlin, and myself, Cillian (yes, real names, don't ask. Also, if you've read before, you know Reagan is a genderqueer, and she was female when the events of this post happened). Can you tell we're all Irish? Now you'd think a houseful of Irish people would be a non-stop fucking blast. I'd think that, anyway. Honestly I'm not quite sure why we all didn't dance a drunken jig around to O'Keefe's Slide all night until we pass out and wake up the next morning with our livers sitting next to us smoking cigarettes wondering why we're so surprised that they needed to get out. You assholes can go on all you want about how untrue stereotypes are but all the Irish people I know play up the drunken horny bastard angle for all it's worth.

The initial plan was for Reagan and I to watch The Simpsons Movie (for anyone in the MPAA who might be reading this, fuck off. All three of us saw it. In the theater. Twice. And we're buying the goddamn DVD. The deluxe edition with two discs and 147 extra hours of footage that we'll never watch. Yes, I downloaded it to tide myself over until aforementioned DVD, but even you can appreciate that some people just don't like sitting in theaters with screaming kids, people who haven't bathed since they found out who shot Mr. Burns, and loud, fat, black women who don't get the goddamn movie. Hey, another true stereotype!) Sorry...back to the bullshit.

Curling up with Reagan to watch The Simpsons was the original plan, which promptly got changed when Caitlin, who'd been drinking all goddamn day, decided she couldn't hold her liquor or tongue anymore and announced she's depressed. Again. She starts crying and wanting to cut herself, so Reagan calms her down and invites her to watch the movie with us. I believe she said something to the extent of "If Bart's pecker can't cheer you up, then nothing will." Yes, Bart gets naked. Ooh a spoiler!

Go make an avatar out of that, cretin.

So roughly halfway through the movie the internet connection died and Reagan walks out of the room to troubleshoot it.

This was the second attempt Reagan and I had made trying to watch this movie and I'll admit I wondered why the internet connection even mattered considering all of us were in the same room (I guess it's the call of the tech support geek), but when she left I just turned the movie off because when the internet goes down here, it takes about five hours and nine phone calls to fix. Well she was back about two minutes later so I expressed my annoyance and continued the movie.

We laughed, we cried. Then Caitlin started crying again and Reagan had to "talk her down" and get her to watch the rest of the movie. We laughed some more, we cried some more, we shared Homer's epiphany. We watched the credits. We felt the squeaky-voiced teenager's pain when he had to sweep the floor clean after everyone left the theater. We've all had shitty jobs.

The movie ended and Caitlin began spewing more bullshit. Not really more bullshit, because it's the same bullshit she's been spewing since Reagan moved in with her.

"I want to cut myself. I miss my kids. Oh my god what if I have an STD? No one will ever love me!" Yeah, this kind of thing is a regular occurrence.

A bit of history about myself: I was engaged to a girl just like this. You know the type: The attention whore who really doesn't have much of a reason to complain but surrounds herself with people who see the scars and might not exactly pity her, but feel a little too guilty to say "shit or get off the pot." Listen. I know what to look for. Having had everything taken away from me more than once, occasionally letting what I love almost kill me, dealing with some very bad things in my family, and recently finding out I'm gonna be the one to pull my mom's plug if she has to go on life support as well as dealing with her lawyers and planning her death, I fucking well know depression. However, I haven't cut myself since my first relationship ended by way of the bitch fucking six other guys while she was claiming to love me. I realized that cutting myself didn't do a goddamn bit of good and feeling physical pain to alleviate all the mental anguish is...you guessed it...BULLSHIT!

Sorry for the distractions. It's how I write.

My answers to what Caitlin was pissing and moaning about:

o1. If you're gonna cut yourself, do it right. Again I say, shit or get off the goddamn pot. You're 34 fucking years old, which brings me to my next point.

o2. Your kids don't love you? Yeah, I don't know the whole story but I do know they chose to leave you. Maybe if their mother didn't stay sauced all the time while cutting herself and whining about her shitty life, they might want to stick around. Of course, when Caitlin walks in on one of her kids drawing roadmaps on his chest with an Exacto knife she's gonna wonder where he got it from and it's gonna be the typical "drug-free commercial" moment.

o3. What if you have an STD? You go get tested and you fucking live with it. It's not easy but it can be done. And maybe if you'd made the scumbags who fucked you wear a goddamn condom you wouldn't be having this crisis every time you forget to monitor your liquor intake.

o4. NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE YOU UNTIL YOU STOP FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF TO GET ATTENTION, YOU SILLY BITCH. Sure, people will feel sorry for you. People will tell you they care about you. But there's only so much bullshit anyone can stand, and even though not everyone's tolerance is as low as mine is, you'll fuck yourself into a long, lonely life unless you stop trying to be the center of attention.

And whenever Caitlin starts this particular line of thinking, Reagan says, "Can I tell you something? Calm down, let me tell you something. I gave up on love. You know how bad I've been treated. You know I got bitter. You know I stopped looking. I didn't want to be in a relationship bad enough to keep looking. And when I gave up, I met Cillian."

Don't get me wrong - I am insanely happy to have found Reagan again, especially given our history, but that's another story for another time and another blog, but when she says "Caitlin, can I tell you something?" It means "Caitlin, can I tell you the same thing I told you two days ago, and twice last week, and about fifteen times since I moved in with you, yet consistently have to tell you because you're a jackass?"

Of course I didn't get to tell Caitlin my thoughts. Yet. Reagan said I should probably go and told me she would call me soon. I left because I was still in a good mood from seeing The Simpsons a third time and didn't want to have to kill my fun-buzz by crowning Caitlin the Queen of All Bullshit.

Well I went home and a few hours went by and the phone didn't ring. I tend to expect the worst; I thought Caitlin made a goddamn "cry for help" and had to get rushed to the ER for a wrist bandage or a stomach pump procedure.

I called and found out that Caitlin's bullshit had subsided and the two were plotting about what to do with a few exes, and by this time I was the only one sober and I was amazed at the dumb shit that was coming from Caitlin. "We'll get them comfortable, then invite them here, then beat the shit out of them!"

I tried to interject and say "Am I the only one who sees a huge fucking flaw in committing aggravated assault in your own home? What if they tell someone they're heading to your house, someone finds them in a ditch, and cops are knocking at your door the next day?"

Caitlin disagreed. I tried to say that beating the leftover THC out of an ex is a good idea, it's just a bad idea to do it on your own property. Caitlin, in all her drunken glory, took the phone and began telling me exactly why she was right. The conversation went as follows:

"Listen, I might be redneck as fuck. I might be goth as fuck. I might be...I might be..."
"...a flying fuckin' monkey. Get to the point."
"I ain't gonna let nothin' happen to my Reagan. If anyone shows up startin' shit I'll show 'em how fuckin' badass I am!"
"If the cops show up it ain't gonna be your choice. I don't care how much of a badass you think you are. You're not gonna start a fight with a badge and a gun."

Keep in mind she's slurring to the point where I think she was drooling on herself and it took me about five tries to explain that I wasn't talking about the stupid ex's friends, I was talking about the cops. And speaking of cops, the last time she had an encounter with them, she left in handcuffs, crying.

"Well if the cops show up then they won't tie anything to my Reagan!"
"Yeah, they will. Unless you beat your ex to the point where his retinas detach and he loses most of his motor skills, then it will get tied to Reagan, and you. I'm not saying don't beat the fucker up. I'm just saying don't do it at your own goddamn house."
"Who says we're talking about beating anyone up? I just wanna humiliate him!"

I know backpedaling, bad ideas, and drunken rigmarole when I hear it.

"So the cops are gonna show up because you made him cry?"
"Who said anything about cops?"
"I did. Then you did. We've been arguing about it for about five minutes, dumbass. And if you want to humiliate him, go to Sledge house." (Sledge house is where all the best parties happen around here. You don't have to be part of Sledge to attend, but it makes it a lot more fun.)
"Well I ain't a member of Sledge and I can't go."
"Bullshit you can't go, your ex ain't a member and he goes all the time. Reagan saw him there last weekend. Why do you think you're talking about him now?"
"Well I'm too grown up for that shit. Fuck that noise."

I was fed up with losing time with my fiancée because Caitlin felt like pulling the "OH GOD NO ONE LOVES ME" bullshit at least twice a week. I also have a very low tolerance for stupidity. I really don't like it when a drunk shit-for-brains insults my fiancée by calling her immature (Reagan is in Sledge). And to top it all off, the phrase "fuck that noise" makes my blood boil.

"Yeah you are real fuckin' grown up. You're 34, you got three kids, and you still cut yourself for attention. How fuckin' grown up are you?"
"You're gonna bitch at me..."
"I'm gonna call you out. I'm tired of your bullshit."

From this point on my blood pressure began rising to dangerous levels and I don't remember what was said; I only remember Caitlin repeating everything I said. I do remember saying something like "If you're only gonna repeat what I say in place of telling me anything worth hearing then get off the goddamn phone." She asked me if I was pissed off at her a few times, long after it'd been established that I was beyond pissed. When I told her to get off the goddamn phone, she mumbled something to Reagan about what an asshole I am. Then she tried to tell me she loves me. I remember calming down at this point because I knew the conversation was nearing its end, so I said "bullshit, you don't know me."

"I do love you, you're friends."
"If we were friends then you wouldn't be a damn bit surprised at me calling you on all your bullshit."

The phone was then handed back to Reagan, who had been getting exponentially drunk in my absence and during my conversation with Caitlin.

"I think you really offended Caitlin."
"Good."

Which started a fight with Reagan. At 4:30 in the goddamn morning. I tried to calmly explain my reasoning to her, and I couldn't. For the record, it's pointless to explain anything to a drunken Irish person, myself included. Trying was futile. I will do that now, and to do that requires another bit of sidetracking.

Earlier in the year, Reagan's Godson died. The boy's mother, Reagan's then-best friend pulled a massive load of bullshit, of the "my son just died and the world owes me everything" variety. No one was surprised when he died, and some were relieved, if not saddened. However, Reagan, dealing with five deaths in the last three years, all of them very close to her, went into a slight reclusive state. She didn't become Howard Hughes by any means, but she began keeping to herself, only leaving the house for work, and on rare occasions going out with her Godson's mother to try to comfort her. Shortly after this, Reagan got ditched, without warning. Her Godson's mother ignored phone calls, emails, and even a few snail-mail letters.

Recently we found out that the "victim," the mother of a child who had suffered his entire short life, was mad at Reagan because she "couldn't take five minutes out of her busy drinking schedule" to let her cry about her dead son. We also found out Reagan was only kept around long enough so this fucking moo could get a fucking birthday present out of her.

Reagan and I both agreed that losing your kid isn't an excuse to be a total asshole, and that's what I see Caitlin doing. "My kids hate me and I can't see them so everyone owes me everything." It's already been stated that she cuts herself for attention, because she wants someone to love her so bad.

She doesn't need another goddamn hug. She doesn't need pity. She needs to be locked in a bathroom with a razor blade while someone says "knock yourself out. Clean the blood up before you come out or I'll kick your ass." If someone would tell her that, every bit of this bullshit would end. I'm not sure if Caitlin doesn't know or doesn't care but she doesn't need to act like a mallgoth every time she can't get her way. Reagan doesn't need to see you cut yourself to care about you. She is a caring person. Case in point? She loves me, and that takes a lot. I got angry. I went off. I called Caitlin out on her bullshit because I don't like seeing Reagan get used because she cares. I'm not saying Reagan is a bad person for not telling Caitlin to shove it, grow up, and act her fucking age. What if I am wrong (I'm not, but what if I am) and Caitlin does the unthinkable? That's not something anyone wants on their hands. But it's a risk I'm willing put in my own hands for the sake of ENDING ALL THIS BULLSHIT.

And if I get the chance, I'll tell Caitlin everything I said in this post. I can probably bet on the fact that I won't be let near Caitlin for awhile though.

Anyway, that's it. I started writing this almost five hours ago. Until next time, stop spreading bullshit and dressing it up by calling it "drama."

----------------
Now playing: Corrosion of Conformity - Over Me
via FoxyTunes

The one where I get pissed off at Howard Stern, Part I.

2007-08-05T05:12:00.000-07:00

So is anyone reading this a fan of Howard Stern? If anyone answered "yes" to that question, go kill yourself because you support someone who only defends the right to free speech when he's the one being silenced.

Don't get me wrong: I don't hate him because he's obscene. I don't hate him because his program is a freak show. I don't even hate him because of his fondness for toilet humor. I love obscene, toilet humor-laden freak shows. I like the fact that people get humiliated. Remember back when Mary Carey lost a bet and had to clean his toilet with her hair...twice? I think if you're dumb enough to make a bet like that, you better be able to pay up.

I hate him because he doesn't give anyone the chance to express an opinion if it differs from his. Case in point? Buck Angel. If you don't know who he is, click this, or if you're not feeling brave, here. Or hey, if you're as much of a perv as I am and have a little bit of money to spend, knock yourself out.

The video in the first link is what disgusts me. Don't misunderstand me: Buck turns me on. It's Howard Stern who disgusts me by continuously referring to Buck as a woman. "If you got a vagina, you're a girl in my book," Says Stern, and that's just one of the ignorant things he says. In the first four minutes Stern tells Buck he's not a man six times, and surprise!, his callers are just as bad. I also can't forget the fact that that guy at the end was walking on eggshells regarding the toy; "This is just a safety regulation...we do the same if it was anyone..." Christ, it's as bad as being scared to say "black guy" in front of a black guy. At least Buck stayed calm and didn't sink to Howard's level, which is more than I can say for myself. I would have needed bail money after I tried to strangle Howard and that pork loin with legs, Artie Lange, with some of the slack microphone cable.

So that's it? A pussy makes you a woman and there's no arguing that? Howard Stern is one of the many ignorant jerkoffs who can't tell sex from gender.

He'll fight tooth and nail for Fartman or the right to say "cunt" on the air but would he stand up if the law stopped recognizing transgendered people? I'd wager he wouldn't.

By the way, don't even think about giving me the typical "anyone who goes on Howard Stern sets themselves for that" horseshit. In between all the talentless Saturday Night Live regulars who desperately need some way to keep themselves in the public eye (Jim Breuer, Norm MacDonald), celebrities we all wish we could forget about (Dennis Rodman, Carmen Electra, Kathy Griffin), and "musicians" who should have their mouths sewn shut (Insane Clown Posse, Aerosmith, Kid Rock, Weezer, Staind...I can see I'm gonna have to write a music rant soon), there are people who have genuinely interesting things to say. I highly doubt any of these people will ever get their chance. Not on The Howard Stern Show, anyway.

In case you're wondering about me, no, I'm not transgendered. I was born with a dick. I like my dick, but my dick doesn't make me a man. My fucked-up brain makes me a man. I don't identify with any other gender, and I never really have. Here's a secret though: I'm engaged to a genderqueer, but don't think that my fiancée sways my opinion; s/he just happened to bring it to my attention.

So to close I'll say this: Gender is not between your legs. End of fucking story, Howard.

The one where I rant about how KMFDM -really- sucks.

2007-08-02T03:05:00.000-07:00

I have a confession: I downloaded the new Ministry album, The Last Sucker. I'm not proud, but then again I've never been able to wait for the street releases. I'm really sad to hear that Grandpa Al is retiring, for more that just the obvious reason. I can say this: If you're gonna go out, go out with a fuckin' bang, and Houses of the Molé, Rio Grande Blood, and The Last Sucker is definitely one helluva bang. Al Jourgensen is one of the few musicians who can express his political views in an album without pissing me off. Don't get me wrong; I do not support Bush. Hell, I don't even support any president who's been in office since I've been old enough to follow politics. And I don't even support any candidates. Fpr better ~~or for worse~~ Bush is getting shitcanned, if not by force, then by law. I can't really see anyone doing worse than that asshole (well, I think Barack Obama has the potential to be a Grade A, cold-hearted son of a bitch), so as far as I'm concerned it doesn't matter because while the troops will hopefully get to come home, we're still gonna be just as fucked on GBLT rights, abortion, and pretty much everything else that anyone who gives a shit supports.

But that's a rant for a later post. Back to my point: Not even Pearl Jam, one of my favorite bands, can wax political without annoying me. Al actually has valid points, as opposed to the typical "whoever is in office sucks and we're writing a rockin' song about it" formula. Not to mention the music is appropriate for any occasion. Even putting babies to sleep. No, really.

As I said, I've been guilty of downloading leaked albums for awhile, the most recent ones being from Black Label Society, Trivium, and Slayer, but going further back, WWIII by KMFDM, which brings me to the other reason I'm sorry to see Al retire.

It's obvious that Attak, WWIII, and Hau Ruck have been pathetic attempts to salvage what little pride Sascha has. I actually bought Attak shortly after the release date, and while I will admit I briefly liked it, I couldn't stand it the next day when I sobered up. Between Sascha slurping the record company's dick to push radio play, Lucia slurping Sascha's dick while trying to sing, Skold still not learning how to blow his nose, and Joolzy J and Steve White apparently forgetting that they weren't playing guitar for Pig, not even the Almighty Bill Rieflin could make me like this album after the novelty of yelling "Sturm und drang!" over and over wore off when the whiskey made me pass out.

And WWIII? I actually pre-ordered this big pile of horseshit. Let's just forget that the lyrics are of the whiny political variety. I could actually look past that if the music was somewhat listenable past the banjo intro to the opening track. I will admit, I'm a sucker for banjo. Sascha is using Lucia for head, Lucia is using Sascha to further what little career she'll ever have, and while Steve and Jules may have realized they're not playing for Pig this time, they don't seem to realize that they'll never be Geunter Schulz and En Esch, or even as good as they are.

By the time Hau Ruck came out, I learned to keep an empty, lined trash can when listening to new KMFDM material, in case I had to throw up. While I didn't throw up, I found myself unable to listen to it past the first minute of the first song. To this day that's as far into that album as I've listened.

Tohuvabohu has been leaked, and guess what. I don't feel the need to download it before it hits the stores. I've already heard reviews of this album. Not by critics, but by people who listen to music because they like it, not because they get paid for it. The review of the "fan song," as I heard it called, is enough to make me ill. They encouraged fans to call in with messages of how KMFDM affects them, and it's nothing but "OMG KMFDM KICKS ASS" and "thanks to KMFDM I don't cut myself anymore!"

Well if I had a self mutilation problem I can assure you that it would end with the release of this album. I would stop taking all my anger and depression out on myself and focus it at KMFDM.

So what does this have to do with Ministry's soon-to-be retirement? Because all of Sascha's competition will be gone. Yes, Revolting Cocks will probably still make music. I'm sure Al will always make music, even if it isn't as Ministry, but whatever he makes will not be as widely heard, no matter how good it is. This means that KMFDM can completely stop trying. Like I said, it's obvious that the last three albums have been excuses to keep Sascha in the money, and they've worked because diehard fans keep buying this shit. KMFDM fans are like Aerosmith fans; they have to know that the music isn't good and that they should have ended before the breakup ever happened, but they can't bring themselves to admit that whatever attempt Steven Tyler is making to keep his big lips on the cover of Rolling Stone should be packaged with anti-nausea medication.

It's no secret that Sascha doesn't like Ministry, despite the fact that one of KMFDM's first tours, if not the first tour, was with Ministry. I don't care how well you dislike someone as a person. I think that musicians can respect eachother on a professional level. With the exception of Eddie Vedder and Kurt Cobain, anyway. Everyone should hate Kurt Cobain.

But what about Skinny Puppy, one might argue, to which I would reply: Are you fucking high? Skinny Puppy hasn't made a good album since...well I guess that's a matter of opinion. But all but the most rabid of Skuppy fans (edit: no pun intended) have hated the last two albums.

Slick Idiot? I can only say I wish. Slick Idiot is doing what KMFDM should be doing, and not getting the recognition they deserve.

Bile? Once again, I wish, but they're doomed to be the opening act until their demise.

There is no saviour. With Ministry done, Sascha & co. will have no reason to try anymore. The forthcoming albums will be even worse, and yes, that's possible. I didn't think they could suck more than Attak until I heard WWIII. Trust me, it will only get worse ~~from here on out~~ from this point on.

Why does this bother me when all I have to do is not listen to it? Because I had a lot of good times listening to KMFDM. I still listen to Symbols and Nihil on a regular basis, and I even have a soft spot What Do You Know, Deutschland? It pains me to see something that made me so happy at one time turn to total shit.

So I'll close this by listing, in no particular order, ten reasons why Ministry is better than KMFDM:

o1. Ministry doesn't need to write lyrics repeating his own band's name. I'm not sure if Sascha does this because he knows KMFDM fans are stupid and might forget who they're listening to, or if he's smoked so much weed he needs a reminder himself, but it's annoying.

o2. Ministry never wrote a cute, tongue-in-cheek song that would ultimately be an ironic prediction of the band's current status. Let's face it, KMFDM, you really do suck, and not in the cute way.

o3. The band's current lineup doesn't affect how good the album is because Al can make consistently good music without relying on whoever he can get to do guest vocals and remixes.

o4. Al sobered up and still makes good music. There are very few bands who have done this successfully. Dave Mustaine did it. Ozzy did it. And Ministry did it. A lot of the bands I listened to as a teenager have cleaned up and made some of the worst music I've ever heard: Velvet Revolver, for example. I would love to see Sascha make an album without needing to smoke himself stupid first.

o5. Al still finds ways to make the "anarchy" symbol look cool. Take that, you fucking mall punks.

o6. Not only did he make one album about how much a president sucks, he made a trilogy, and they're all fucking good. Very few musicians can pull off a sequel album, unless you're Pink Floyd. Or, obviously Ministry.

o7. Ministry transitioned from cold wave to industrial metal flawlessly. KMFDM transitioned the industrial sub-genres with all the grace of an evening drive with Ted Kennedy.

o8. Ministry didn't need to studio-master the live album to make it sound good on CD. Sturm und Drang sounded like shit after it got mastered.

o9. Ministry has done songs with Gibby Hanes and Jello Biafra, just to name some, while making them just as good as the songs Al does on his own. It takes a guest appearance to make a KMFDM song really stand out among all the generic songs reminding us who we're listening to.

10. Al can concentrate on more than one band at a time. He's simultaneously made albums with Ministry, Lard, and RevCo and they've all been great, as opposed to Sascha only being able to do remixes between albums, and only to fund the next album. Not that he'll need to worry about that again because he's got label support now!

So long, coffin-stuffers! See you the next time I get angry.