Carbon 14
The Ultimate Time Waster (03/25/2005)
I’d wager that almost all of you have had several of these worthless fuck's in your life at one time or another. A large share of you probably work with or hang out with one or two of them on an everyday basis. Sadly, more than a few of you are undoubtedly romantically involved or even married to one. Even though I’ve almost been bled dry of sympathy for others as a result of dealing with humanity at large all my life, I still feel a little bit sorry for the current victims of these assholes...and I actually wish you poor folks good luck in your efforts to rid your life of ‘em.
No, I’m not talking about preachy fundamentalist Christians, nose-breathers, junkies or Limp Bizkit fans. The pests I’m referring to are much harder to identify. In fact, their entire “modus operandi” is to slither about changing their outward charachteristics at will to avoid identification. These human worms are SO good at charming the pants off of everybody you’ve got to be incredibly perceptive and on your toes to identify one of them...the ULTIMATE TIMEWASTER..the “pathological liar” .Pathological liars are closely linked to the better known human vermin known to psychologists and criminologists as “sociopaths”. You remember Ted Bundy don’t you? The fellow that butchered up 20 or so naive, trusting females back in the seventies. Ted was considered by the folks that write criminology textbooks as a CLASSIC example of a “sociopath”. His ilk are able to appear so devastatingly “normal” that their victims never suspect that they are dealing with a wolf in sheep’s clothing until it’s too late.
Every book store or public library in the country has a “true crime” section in which you can find expertly written accounts of the exploits of criminal sociopaths. A couple of the best authors to check out in case you’re interested are Ann Rule and Jack Olson. Pathological liars can be distinguished from your garden variety sociopath since they rely more heavily on their mouths to gain their victims confidence. Incidentally, they shouldn’t be confused with hard working folks who lie for a living such as professional salespeople, phone sex employees or record label A&R rep’s. People that work in those professions can drop their schtick and go back to being honest with their loved ones and themselves after the end of their work shift. Sociopath’s are NOT NECESSARILY all criminals. However, MANY criminals are sociopaths. Likewise, many but NOT ALL sociopaths are fucking worthless pathological liars. Not all pathological liar’s are “smooth” sociopath’s either.
All right....what a goddamned mouthful. Everybody out there that’s still with me is urged to consume ONE drink or bong hit at this time. AAAhhh..... If I have piqued your interest about someone close to you in your life..perhaps a partner sleeping next to you..or a roommate who’s in the other room talking on the phone or trimming their toenails..I urge you in that case to fucking kill your bottle for strength. I expect that every single one of you reading this will be able to correctly identify a pathological liar from at least one phase of your life by the end of this column. The first pathological liar that entered my life was still a child of 15. I hired him to work for my newspaper subscription solicitation crew. I didn’t identify him as a pathological liar for almost 15 more fucking YEARS! During that time he convinced my wife and I that he was a completely different person than what he turned out to be. I felt “sorry” for him at first after hearing his sob story about how mean his stepfather was. He told me all about his big tough Brother, his distant Uncle Raymond Burr and his Father in Los Angeles who was an infamous disc jockey who knew all the rock stars in tinsel town.He eventually as an adult played in two different bands with my wife and myself..and it took a decade and a half to realize that EVERYTHING I’ve related above was a total fabrication.
We eventually learned that this guy was so bad off that he’d lie about what he fucking ate for breakfast! Hell, he might call upseveral people on the telephone in the morning to tell them all a different story about what he ate for breakfast and where. WHY?? That’s the big question of course. He didn’t ever really give us cause to try to check out what he told us about himself. Not until the end of our friendship that is. We got home from a camping trip with this fuckhead and our van battery died. When I opened the hood I saw an intricate nest of leaves, marshmallows and food from our campfire meals sitting on my battery. Bizarre, HUH? The guy soon confessed that he did it even though he had no explanation why he’d build an odd ceremonial nest under the hood of our mini van. We decided to totally eliminate this guy from our lives.
To deliver the news to him I invited him over for one last hour (without alcohol) to talk to me one last time for thduration of this lifetime so that he would know why we would never speak to him again. He broke down and admitted to 15 years of lies that seemed purposeless even to him by this point. We soon compared notes with mutual acquaintances and learned that he had been telling different stories about where he worked, where he spent his weekends and what he ate for breakfast to all of us. I thought of all the many, many, many times over the years that I had commiserated with him over pitchers of beers listening to sob stories about one of his fictitious relatives or girlfriends. No, I’ve NEVER let him back into our lives here at the Irwin compound even though he went to the trouble of researching our new address 3,000 miles away so that he could send us a cheery letter with a CD by his new band.
RULE #1) NEVER let the pathological liar back into your life. I stomped on his fucking CD..and swept the pieces into an envelope to return to him without a single word of reply. The next pathological liar that came into my life I’m actually too fucking afraid to write about in detail to this day. I’ve met people over the years that met him as he traveled up and down the West coast hanging out with groups of punk rockers that didn’t know each other. In a nutshell, he had a different name and told a different story to the several circles of punk rock friends that he met to cover up his frequent thefts of their record collections or their drugs. Physically he was very intimidating..only a fool would question this guy to his face. Every now and then he’d punch somebody out who questioned one of his lies as an example to the rest of us. He had a girlfriend in our town whose life he totally dominated and manipulated with lies.
She supported him financially without question even though dozens of us knew that at the end of the day when they were eating food, drinking beer and smoking weed that she had paid for he would totally invent a story of his daily dealings with which to manipulate her. Shit. Be careful who you accept into your lives girls. We know of at least 3 arson fires that this guy was mysteriously at the scene of. Uh, that’s all I can say...except that like everybody else that knew him, I’m admittedly too terrified to even consider ratting the guy out. I’ve said enough. The next pathological liar I met through several mutual “friends” when my wife and I moved back to a familiar city we had spent a few years away from. This guy had practically everybody I knew TOTALLY fooled.
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FOOLS, KLUTZES, LEECHES and LOSERSWritten 4/17/2001
It was the lead story on the local news on a rare night that I happened to be watching; a lady running to catch a subway train fell and wound up losing an arm. My immediate reaction was “what a dumb cunt!”. I leaned back and waited to see what sort of angle the TV news people would use. I knew..I JUST KNEW that they’d find a way to make a martyr out of the clumsy, stupid bitch. They lived up to my expectations. They flashed camera pic’s of “NO RUNNING” signs clearly posted...and they admitted that the train company had hired guards to further caution people from running after trains. But instead of interpreting the signs and guards to be indications that the train company (SEPTA) had properly warned the public against the dangers of running like a fucking idiot on a subway platform, the TV folks immediately crafted an angle calling for an investigation of the obvious dangerous situation created by SEPTA. The reporter whined.. “subsequent investigation will possibly tell us whether or not SEPTA is doing ENOUGH to protect us”.
That’s just great..because one impatient nitwit falls under a train suddenly the transportation authority is on trial by the press. Have you ever seen all the DANGER signs on Coke machines? Take a look..there are warning signs against PULLING THE GODDAMN MACHINE over on yourself!! Now, that would take a helluva lot of effort in the first place. Still, I’m told that the warning signs were demanded by a judge after some hapless thief trying to break into a coke machine pulled the fucking thing over on himself. I’ll bet the clumsy, idiotic thief sued and won millions of dollars for his troubles! And how about the fat cow that got stuck between the toilet and the door of the stall at a restaurant? The fire department had to free her..and the poor dear filed suit blaming the restaurant instead of her own obesity.What kind of species are we that pathetic fatso’s like this are seriously considered “victims” by judges and jury’s???
There are hundreds and thousands of examples of morons in our society trying to make big bucks passing the blame for their own shortcomings onto others. Like the dude that scalded his balls driving out of the MCDonalds drive-through with a steaming hot cup of their awful imitation-coffee wedged between his thighs? A DUMBASS CHUCKLEHEAD like that isn’t a goddamned “victim”..he’s just a common idiot with no sense.
It seems like no matter how ridiculous the legal claims are of LOSER’S the media always takes them seriously!! A truth seeker by nature THEE WHISKEY REBEL knows better...an overwhelming majority of these clowns are fucking FOOLS, KLUTZES, LEECHES and LOSERS. Deep down the majority of people know this, but are too afraid of appearing to be “insensitive” to say it..so I’ll say it again..
FOOLS, KLUTZES, LEECHES and LOSERS. If the lady who lost her arm is your Mom or my Mom or a Mother of 10 ....well, that doesn’t change anything. It’s sad and all...but lets face it..IT WAS HER FAULT. She was injured due to her own stupidity. FOOLS, KLUTZES, LEECHES and LOSERS. This refusal to accept the blame for one’s own ineptitude and weakness is spreading of course in other ways like wildfire throughout our society.
For years common ordinary drunks have been blaming everybody but themselves on their drunken escapades. Yunno..get loaded and crack up your car..and then SUE THE FUCKING BARTENDER..or the bar owner..or anybody in the room who didn’t stop you. Hell, why stop there..sue the distillery! And how about the trendy lawsuits brought against gun manufacturers blaming them for ghetto gunplay?? We’ve all paid the price for GUTLESS LOSERS who don’t have the balls to face up to their own fuckups; one of my personal favorite examples that comes to mind is the great American office CHRISTMAS party. Many employers have scrapped XMAS party’s all together. Many more have forbidden booze..which makes them FOR ME at least unbearable. All because of a handful of suit happy FOOLS, KLUTZES, LEECHES and LOSERS.
Even worse, it’s gotten so that when an employee at a job is dismissed for whatever reason employers half EXPECT them to sue. This unfortunately leads to a backlash against the poor bastards that are left behind working. An air of suspicion has taken over at lots of workplaces. A close relative of mine is a supervisor for a large retail chain. I’m told that there’s a growing tendency these days for LOSERS who just plain don’t show up for work..and don’t call..to SUE THEIR EX-EMPLOYER claiming that they were fired unjustly. One loser was caught red handed with a GUN in his locker; he is actually evidently contemplating a lawsuit for his dismissal based on murky “illegal search” technicalities. Another LOSER didn’t even last the 90 day probationary period; he was terminated for excessive absence after being counseled and warned. But still...YEP...he’s filing a suit!! FOOLS, KLUTZES, LEECHES and LOSERS....ALL OF THEM.
Oh yeah, how about the little girl who was hit by a car and seriously injured in West Philly not long ago. It was at least partly the little girls fault..she walked out into a busy street between a couple parked cars in the middle of the block. Amongst all the hub bub and finger pointing towards the evil driver of the car that hit her, there wasn’t a WORD TO BE HEARD on TV or a word of warning to be read in the papers suggesting that SHE SHOULD HAVE BEEN MORE FUCKING CAREFUL! Yes, she too is a FOOL and a KLUTZ.
In a similar but separate incident also here in Philly, a little girl was hit by a car and killed. This is indeed a tragedy...but the hue and cry blaming the accident on the local POLICE department (?!) for not having the psychic vision to have posted a crossing guard at that intersection is a tragedy of a different kind. Where were the little girls parents?? The fucking police can’t be EVERYWHERE at once; that’s why responsible parents need to teach their kids how to observe caution when crossing busy urban streets. Of course, adults are total fucking fools when crossing the street themselves.
That was brought to my attention about a year ago when a LOSER staggered out of a bar and stepped out into the middle of the street during rush hour in front of my van with me at the wheel. He’s only alive today thanks to the fact that I slammed on the brakes. Still, the impact from my bumper knocked him ass over teakettle. A cop immediately arrived at the scene. After noting that the fellow had illegally crossed in the middle of the block instead of at a crosswalk he didn’t even issue me a citation. My son and I later began to refer to the KLUTZ who I hit as “Mr. Frogger”. Instead of receiving a thank you note for saving his life, I got a call from my insurance adjuster. Mr. Frogger was filing a suit against us! I told her to check ol’ Frogger’s blood alcohol level as measured when they took him to the hospital. I was sure he was banking on us not being aware that he had been drinking at a bar 20 feet from where he blindly stepped in front of my car. Happily, the adjuster used my information and the lawsuit was quietly dropped!
Perhaps the greatest issue pertaining to LEECH LOSER LAWSUITS looming on the horizon is a proposed blanket payoff to relatives of slaves. Y’know, sometimes when I hear goofy proposals like THAT I don’t get hot under the collar..I just laugh. FOR CHRIST”S FUCKING SAKE...there are NO former slaves alive..and there are NO former slave owners alive either. No, I’m NOT MAKING THIS ONE UP! When I first heard about it, I thought It smelled like Al Sharpton. I watched an ABC “20/20” report on this new “movement” in an attempt to get a grasp on what (besides blind greed) and who is behind this upcoming legislative bill. The shyster LEECH leader interviewed explained to 20/20 that slavery didn’t actually end until 1965. HHmmm...I see.
I predict a huge national upswing in open racial hatred the further that this preposterous bill gets. Perhaps the answer to this proposal is to quickly file a few counter suits that are equally silly. How about a vague murky suit against residents near ghetto business districts that have been destroyed during riots? An awful lot of business owners have been wiped out by intermittent riots over the last 35 years or so; maybe it’s time to force the LEECH looters (and their children and grandchildren) to pay? ESPECIALLY since a lot of them could be coming into big bucks over night due to this “slavery reparation” big bucks bonanza!!
Yunno, some of the Indian nations have erected some beautiful casino’s. Maybe I could earn a chunk of one of them by initiating a “victims of Native Americans” bill?? I’m sure its probable that I have a distant ancestor who was murdered by an American Indian somewhere along the line. Since the slave reparations bill will loosely define who qualifies as being a relative of a black “victim”...I don’t expect that I should be required to offer anything but vague proof that my relatives were victims of Native Americans. And hey, while we’re at it..my old man suffered a great deal of physical and mental anguish due to a case of malaria he picked up fighting in world war II. JUST THINK!! I can recruit relatives of other veterans and we can start slinging lawsuits in all directions..towards the Japanese, the US Army and even the jungle people of New Guinea where he first got sick.
Hell, to this day the housing project down the street causes me a great deal of mental anguish. I feel “intimidated” from walking down the street through it at night knowing that I’ll probably get my ass kicked just like so many other white folks have had their asses kicked when they wandered by. Perhaps it’s time to quit thinking of public housing residents as poor people...if they’re all going to be coming into a million bucks each it’s time to start planning how I can become a VICTIM too and sue them for their newly scammed riches. Maybe I’ll wait until winter and slip on the sidewalk in front of one of the buildings?? REMEMBER...in Philly residents of newer housing projects are partial owners of the property. They’ll be liable if I happen to “slip” in front of their unit!!!! (I’ve got to tell a story here. While visiting in San Francisco with Travis and Liza from HAMMERLOCK we happened to drive past what looked like a beautiful luxury apartment building in their neighborhood. That, Travis said..is a San Francisco public housing project. Furthermore, when his Mom was visiting them (complaining the whole time about the hundred year old house they live in) she pointed at the project building thinking it was a swank apartment house and said “OH LOOK! why can’t you live there!).
I can just see my email box being filled up with vague “racist” accusations from this column. Let me point out here for the record that I consider the slavery reparation bill to be a vehicle for opportunistic Al Sharpton styled “civil rights leaders” to make a buck and garner media attention. Believe it or not “20/20” reached a similar conclusion. They showed a LEECH “leader” signing rural black folks up for $50 per head to add their names to a lawsuit list. For every black person behind this bill there will be 3 or 4 Ted Kennedy lovin’ upper-middle class white liberals sobbing and wringing their hands in support. I know that plenty intelligent blacks won’t be swayed by the lure of easy money into supporting the bill.
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Time to toot my own horn for a minute. My band RANCID VAT has lasted 20 years now as of last January. I always thought it would be a great thing to last 20 years and have a 20th anniversary show. Unfortunately, we can’t find a place to book the show here in Hostile city. We’ve been banned of course from several clubs that don’t deserve to be named here. I can understand why they don’t want us back. What’s really disappointing is the fact that we’re banned from a two room facility that we’ve never even played at: “The Troc” & “The Balcony”. Both rooms are booked I hear by a typical trendy little dear who books HER OWN band and her FRIENDS bands regularly. It seems she doesn’t like us.....she considers us hooligans for raising hell at another club she used to have firmly in the grasp of her tentacles...oh, the SHAME!I haven’t begun to wage war against the fucking cunt...YET. Remember baby..when you fuck with us..you’re issuing us a license to fuck with you for the rest of our lives. I may have to summon the RANCID VAT CURSE upon the entire twin club establishment.
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Thee WHISKEY REBEL...A MODERN DAY AESTHETE:
Every afternoon here at the new Texas Irwin estate, we roll a cart loaded down with Earl Grey tea, Pearl and Lonestar beer’s and a selection of appropriate bisquits and cookies and sweets onto our back patio. While we enjoy our afternoon repast we often reflect with a great deal of mirth (and a touch of sadness) upon those of you who haven’t ever developed even the basest rudiments of taste when it comes to savoring the finer things in life.
To wit: when one of we Irwin’s deign to quaff a beverage or dine upon victuals, being blessed with highly endowed..”educated” shall we say senses we are able to enjoy said pleasantries to a higher degree than most folk.Or, to revert to the vernacular...you dumb asses wouldn’t enjoy a good spread of food and booze as much as we are able to even on your best day. Half of you wash down your dinner of McDonalds sythetic hamburgers (or MSG poisoned hamburger helper on a special night) with either goddamned psuedo-intellectual micro-spew that tastes like bitter 2 day old coffee from my thermos or malt liquor that tastes like fizzy hamster piss. Food and drink tastes better to us..because we have HEIGHTENED SENSES. We could never settle for the sort of slop you shovel down at that hogtrough you call a dinner table. If we Irwin’s were forced to pay a call upon you for social purposes you can rest easy that we will bring our OWN drinks in special cooler’s rather than depend upon you to be able to provide anything worth a tinkers damn. UUURRRPPPPP.
OK...I don’t want to keep up the snob schtick for this whole column. There is a valuable and rock solid kernel of truth in the above paragraphs though. Thee Whiskey Rebel HAS INDEED EVOLVED beyond the majority of the human race..NOT just at the dinner table but in many, many aspects of life. Thee Whiskey Rebel can drive his pick ‘em up truck down freeways and boulevards and recognize beauty that most folks haven’t opened themselves up to. His many hobbies and distractions provide an infinite amount of satisfaction beyond those of the vast majority of Americans who parade through malls or tend to their lawns (YAWN!) on their days off from work. Much like Wilde and Whistler and the early 20th century aesthete’s in Europe had their own circle of folks with HEIGHTENED AWARENESS..Thee Whiskey Rebel keeps company with an elite group of folks across the nation who have taken appreciation of the FINER things in life to a new level. If you’d like a glimpse into the world of those who have risen to the “next level” culturally and aesthetically speaking..read on. This is your chance to be granted a glimpse at the “Whiskey Rebel lifestyle”.
Nightly a huge percentage of Americans sit in front of the boob tube watching “friends” or pathetic re-runs of shows that attempt to mirror the worthless lives of the viewers in an optimistic manner..such as “cheers”. They do this out of boredom..they haven’t a clue what else they could be doing. Thee Whiskey rose above “boredom” many years ago. He likes to quote one of Charles Bukowski’s pet phrases:”only the boring are bored”. When the Whiskey Rebel was a young lad aspiring to greatness at Chess tournaments he asked a noted master whom he admired for a tip on how to best improve his game. Without hesitation the chess master thrust a pointed finger in the air to emphasize his advice:“Shut off your TV!!! LEAVE it off!”The youthful W.R. followed the mans advice and was able to climb to dizzying heights in competitive chess circles.
Later in life when Reb was in his very early 20’s he decided he wanted to start up a band with his Wife; the TV was switched off and ignored for months at a time in their home. This is MANDATORY advice for people who aspire to something creative. When the Whiskey Rebel does switch on his television it is 90% of the time for the purpose of using it as a video game monitor (he recommends golf games..and “triple play baseball”) or video tape screen. It’s VERY important just what selections he prefers from his vast VHS library. Reb contends that the most important thing to view in your home is a great deal of footage of classic professional wrestling. He states that professional wrestling is a superior reality to be immersed in as opposed to the colorless world “reality” of politics, religion and hip hop culture. He says:”the idea is to watch enough wrestling so that one can eventually make a mental LEAP and become one with the shimmering figures on the screen..it’s a great deal like hopping a freight train..but in a mental fashion”.
Mister Rebel contends that when one plugs into and joins the “alternate” and elite reality of the pro wrestling space-time continuum appreciation of many of the finer things in life becomes a relatively easy matter.“REAL Rock and roll and wrestling walk hand in hand..crappy rock and roll is for people who are trapped on their couches watching brain numbing and nauseating “Charles in charge” and “family ties” re-runs. People in REAL rock and roll bands take the stage as flamboyantly and as aggressively as wrestlers. Once you have accepted either real rock and roll or professional wrestling to the inner depths of your soul..you find yourself with both inner peace..and a HEIGHTENED AWARENESS that leads to some of the other finer things in life”. The Whiskey Rebel has never owned a Nissan economy car; his favorite vehicles as of this writing are his official Whiskey Rebel Ford pickup..and a classy vintage Caddy that he has recently turned over to his Son Elvis. “Only chumps who look like Michael J.Fox drive Japanese cars.
Stan Stasiak or Playboy Buddy Rose would NEVER have been caught dead in one. You ARE what you drive baby!!” he explains. Owning a distinctive set of wheels is but one important step in achieving the “Whiskey Rebel lifestyle”. Mr. Rebel’s private home is filled with the comfy easy chairs with big wide padded arms that he prefers. He lives up to his pen name by always stocking a large supply of whiskey along with a variety of corporate beers. “You ARE what you drink baby!!” Reb chortles. “I drink BEER..which means Bud or Coors or Miller’s or PBR or what have you..B-E-E-R. Malt liquor is not beer..micro-spew is for deadheads and snob assholes who look like Michael J. Fox. I DRINK BEER..and WHISKEY!!”
When Whiskey Rebel is called upon to engage in a book reading somewhere in the continental US he prefers to drive himself. Traveling is one of his great passions. He prefers to hit the interstate at exactly 11:00 am (normal checkout time at motels nationwide) and knock off for the day after a hundred fifty miles or so as close as possible to 4:00 pm (normal check-in time) with frequent stops at flea markets, thrift stores and rest area shithouses. He is obsessed with relics of the mid 20th century such as giant cement buffalo, dinosaur extravaganza’s and Paul Bunyan statues. Often he’ll pull his vehicle over to the side of the road to get a better view of a garish neon sign or ancient billboard. He’s been known to clap his hands in delight and whoop out loud over roadsign cartoon drawings of pigs and cows advertising greasy spoon restaurants. “It’s Americana baby..get behind IT..before it gets behind YOU!!” Reb points out. He add’s: “I AM a modern day aesthete; if Oscar Wilde and his dead French pal’s were brought back to life and driven down the remaining stretches of Route 66 they’d cream their pantaloons.
They’d probably get down on their knees and bow and scrape to some flashy neon sign. After guzzling some absinthe they may feel like stopping for a cup of coffee. Like me I imagine they’d enjoy sitting unobtrusively at the counter at a truck stop quietly observing the “knights of the road” as they chattered amongst themselves”.It’s called HEIGHTENED AWARENESS folks. The Whiskey Rebel isn’t ALWAYS on the road of course. more often he’s right at home in his living room easy chair throne. To maintain a peaceful atmosphere he demands that NO ONE knock on his door unannounced. He see’s folks by prior appointment only. He has an aversion to telephones dating back to a bad telephone sales job in the early 80’s. Therefore, he will NEVER answer the phone..if he ever picks it up and answers personally when you call..circle the date on the nearest calendar. He of course uses an answering machine to monitor calls. When the mood strikes he will simply unplug the damn phone altogether.
One of Reb’s pet peeves is nosey, thoughtless people who ring the phone off the hook leaving gabby messages on days he’s wrapped up in his writing, caught up in the pro-wrestling space-time flow or simply dealing with his latest mood swing with alcoholic gusto. The Whiskey Rebel totally advocates folks immersing themselves into whatever their sexual proclivities lead them to. He’s a simple hetero-sexual male without extra-ordinary fetishes..yet he declares with gusto:”if I enjoyed fucking farm animals or having hookers piss down my throat or jerking off in a pile of nurse shoes I sure as hell would..3 times a day baby!! If I was gay I’d be leading the annual parade”. Final advice on achieving the Whiskey Rebel lifestyle from the man himself: “If it feels good..DO IT...3 times a day. Attempt to keep the government out of your life as much as possible. Never order a single beer at a bar..ALWAYS order two. Never feel embarrassed or self conscious about things you do in the privacy of your own home that bring you pleasure. I’m a TELETUBBIES fan for poops sake! Beware of time wasters who visit and whine about the same problems over and over. Beware of your parents and other relatives who try to mold you into something you are not. Always travel with a plastic fifth of whiskey (several brands are available in “traveler” bottles) to avoid breakage.
If you feel depressed or sad check to see if you’ve strayed from the “pro-wrestling space time continuum”. Acquire a stack of vintage wrestling magazines from the 60’s-80’s that you can leaf through when the going gets tough. YOU CAN drink everyday..just remember to taper off a bit once you are loaded so you can pleasantly coast for hours rather than pass out in a pile of vomit. There’s NEVER (almost) an excuse for cracking open a second fifth in one day (unless you drank the first one very slowly over a long period of time). One fifth a day is enough. If you choose to not drink..that’s cool; double up on neon signs or pro-wrestling VHS tapes”.
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If you haven’t achieved the “Whiskey Rebel lifestyle” after all that you NEVER will. On to other matters.
We had to discard my Imac’s keyboard today after I accidentally noticed a Yahoo news headline indicating that Al Sharpton is going to make a run at the presidency. I lunged a bit too late for the cardboard box waste basket under my computer table..but I was too late. My lunch was spewed in steamy vomit fashion all over the keyboard. Luckily the monitor could be sponged off. Maybe I should have a lawyer file suit against big Al?? Maybe I could hire one of the attorneys who recently conned a jury into awarding a 64 year old ex smoker 155 billion dollars!! How could this ladies life be worth even 1 billion dollars much less 155?? not even Alex Rodriguez is gonna earn a billion in his life time. I knew the human race was chockablock with absolute fools by the time I was 15 years old or so. By the time I turned 20 I my hatred and disgust for the species had grown 10 fold. By the time I turned 30 I no longer considered myself a member of the human race...if somebody called me a “human” to my face it was time to go fist city with ‘em.
A few years ago while working my supervisor shift at Tower records I was told about a recording artist loved by hundreds of thousands of electronica geeks who reportedly was too sensitive to kill roaches in his apartment..my first impulse was to bellow out a big horselaugh..HAR HAR HAR!!! But then I noticed mid-laugh none of the 18-23 year old clerks were laughing along; some of them were eyeing me as though I had just told a blatantly racist joke or made a homophobic remark. They obviously were quite impressed with the dumb jackasses sensitivity. Even though I had never anticipated my regard for the worthless human race could sink any lower..it did. And it has..several times since then. Especially In election years. Today was the topper; Al Sharpton running for President?? I’d laugh it off if it could..but I know damn well a lot of moron’s will vote for the lying human leech. A significant slice of the brain-dead media will treat his candidacy with respect..and never flinch when he presumably declares that all those who don’t vote for him are obvious racists. I think an eager cable network should immediately launch a “reality” show based on trying to find a less qualified..lower integrity and more obnoxious public figure to try to Low-ball Al. I can see it now..defrocked priests vying with Klan poobah’s cult leaders and Howard Stern show mascots. `So-- who will Al’s running mate be?? Louis Farrakhan?? Rosie O’Donnell to go after the Woman’s vote..or perhaps some gangsta rap genius. As if Jesse Jackson and Pat Robertson, Pat Buchannon and Jerry Falwell weren’t all bad enough to have to put up with sounding off publicly..we’re gonna be treated to Al Sharpton soundbites until election day?? I may pluck my eyes out and carve my ears off before the campaigns over...I CAN’T TAKE IT. IIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYEYYYYEEEEEEEEE!?!?!?!?!?
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All for now...gotta make a liquor store run..