our president (an easy critique)

(disclaimer: I believe all politicians are shit)

trumpmelbourneI sat through the horrible dung-parade election.  I watched as millions of people in our country decided to let hate rule their lives and their voting reflected that hatred.

The level of idiocy in Duh’Merica is staggering.

 

President Donald J. Trump in a nutshell:

  • He behaves like a terrible ex-husband or ex-wife; when confronted by anyone about anything, he yells at them and tells them they are losers.  If you present him with valid facts that prove he’s dishonest and making shit up, it’s “fake news” and you are an “idiot.”

  • Negotiator in Chief?????? A true negotiator is not someone who does whatever they can to win at all costs.  A true negotiator doesn’t use his/her money and power to get their way.  That’s what a bully does.
  •  Pep Rally President– When everything appears to be spiraling into the toilet, he pretends that he’s on the campaign trail again.  He flew in to Melbourne, FL and talked about how great he is.  How he’s going to make “America Great Again,” to the thunderous applause from a large gaggle of uninformed, delusional right-wing zealots.
  • His Debt– Wouldn’t it be interesting to actually know exactly who our President and his businesses owe money to?  My guess is that it would probably explain his position on Russia and the countries he left off of the travel ban list.

While I’m not a fatalist, our country is in a very bad place right now.  Too many people have let their ignorance and hatred rule their decisions.

Our President is an absolute, fucking joke.  This is what I know to be real.

 

 

Scared

A while ago I was at a hotel in Jacksonville, Fl for my job, a job I fucking hate. I work so I can pay child support in order to do the right thing. I do love my kids, but 60% of my income isn’t quite fair. The circumstances are long, drawn out, complicated and all the shit nobody really wants to hear about.

BALLS

I do wish I could grow bigger balls, big fucking donkey balls and scream “fuck the world, fuck you job, fuck you bosses,” just a guttural fuck off to everyone and everything that pisses me off. Continue reading

The First Honest Obituary

Recently, my grandfather passed away at the age of 88.  I won’t bore you with the details.  He was a great man, lived a great life and he died.  That’s just life.

As my family prepared his obituary for the local paper, it got me thinking about a couple of things.  Have you ever noticed how obituaries are always positive and always portray the dead person as a freaking saint?

Now, this has nothing to do with my grandfather, he actually was a saint and never hurt a soul.

But, I would like to prepare an obituary for a hypothetical dead person who was a real piece of shit.

Billy Ray Bumpkus 1980-2012, from Anytown, USA

Well, we all knew it was coming.  Satan finally cashed in Billy Ray’s soul ticket and took him to the depths of hell where he belongs.

We all wondered how it would happen.  Hell, the whole family and neighborhood had a death pool going.

Congrats to Billy Ray’s cousin Lula Bell who correctly predicted that he would die by being bitten by his pet Black Mamba named Hitler.  $100 to you Lula Bell, well done.

Early Life:  Billy Ray was a fairly destructive child.  At age 7, while still breastfeeding, he stumbled upon his neighbor’s meth lab and set the entire trailer park on fire when he tried to light a Newport.  After that incident, Billy Ray began drinking heavily and became known as the “Trailer Park Firestarter.” Continue reading

John Travolta and the Creepy Van

(I wrote this years ago before any of this “gay” rumor shit was in the news.  And by the way, who gives a fuck if Travolta likes to give rim jobs to hot, male masseurs?)

Am I the only person around who thinks John Travolta is just a bit too creepy and might be that guy you see driving a weird, old van in your neighborhood right after school lets out?

I’m not even talking about the whole Scientology aspect either.  His smile is just a little bit “off” for me.

When I see him on television doing an interview he kind of looks like that guy who drives the old, decrepit van with the tinted bubble window on the back offering kids in your neighborhood candy.

You know the van I’m talking about, the one with the airbrushed wizard mural on the side.  It was the type of van your mother told you to stay away from.

The van that was always circling the elementary school playground, the van with the mini air conditioner unit in the back window speeding away from playgrounds like a convict was driving.

Then, on the rare occasion that the van actually parked somewhere, the guy getting out had bad, green prison tattoos and that crazy Travolta-like smile.

That smile that someone only has when they have one hand down their pants and are alone on their couch watching a neighbor sunbathing.   That smile. Continue reading

The Best Dream Ever

It starts with me walking down a poorly lit hallway with several doors on each side, some cracked open and some closed.  I want to look in each door, but something is making me nervous to look.  But I look anyway.

The first door is numbered 666 and I open it.  There is a huge bed in the middle of the room and I see Rush Limbaugh dressed like a catholic school girl and he has black mascara dripping down his bulbous cheeks like he’s been crying.  He looks at me with his God-Fearing eyes and points to the corner.

In the corner there are two Filipino adult midgets tied together with ball-gags in their mouths, smiling and sitting on top of a very worn out Twister board.

Then out of the closet, Justin Beiber runs out dressed in a lederhosen t-back carrying a crystal magic wand.  He flips his hair, points the wand at Rush and says, “Lady-Boy Alive.”  Immediately Rush grows HHH titties and starts giggling like he’s on laughing gas.

He gets down on all fours on the edge of the bed and Justin mounts him and starts riding him like a donkey.  Rush squeals and Justin just keeps flipping his hair.  Then Usher appears with a video camera and starts taping the whole thing and tells me he’s going to put it on You Tube.

I’m starting to feel a little weird about everything so I try to help the Filipino midgets get untied.

They start blowing me kisses, so I run out of the room and slam the door shut.  At the end of the hallway I see my 5th grade teacher standing next to a urinal and she says, “I told you that you wouldn’t amount to anything.”  I wake up and realized I pissed myself, again.

Your Reality

(I wrote this a while ago during the first season of True Detective.  I feel it is relevant still)

 

“What’s it say about life?  You got to get together, tell yourself stories that violate every law of the universe, just to get through the god damn day, what’s that say about your reality?” Chole, from HBO’s True Detective

HBO's "True Detective" Season 1 / Director: Cary FukunagaTrue Detective is becoming one of my new favorite shows.  I’m truly fascinated by Mathew McConaughey’s character Chole. 

I am captivated by the above quote.  When I was a child, I remember being dragged to church by my mother on many occasions.  I remember sitting in the pew and silently observing everyone around me.  That quote resonates deeply within me because those were some of the feelings I had at an early age, but was never quite able to express those feelings to anyone.

I think I was an atheist at an early age, but didn’t quite realize it then.  For years I battled with believing and not believing. 

I read the Bible quite a bit when I was younger and with each passage I read, the less I believed.  For me, the Bible provided enough information for me to not believe in God. Continue reading

Because Male Hygiene is Important

(I’m re-posting this for my new friends who may have missed it, enjoy)

Medicated Powder.   I don’t know about you, but I am always cognizant of maintaining my male hygiene.

It’s something my father taught me when I was child.  “Son, there is nothing worse than a guy with a stinky crotch,” he used to tell me.

When I was about 12 years old, while most fathers were teaching their young boys about sex education, my father took me to Walgreens to introduce me to my first medicated powder.  I remember that day like it was yesterday.

We walked into the store and headed directly to the back where all the powders were kept next to the Vaseline, lubricants and condoms. (back then, condoms weren’t locked up)

The pharmacist asked my father if we needed any help.  “No thanks buddy, just buying my son some crotch powder.  He’s about that age now,” he said with a proud smile.  I looked straight down and wanted to jump off a bridge.

I didn’t want anyone to think that I had a smelly crotch.  I was praying that I didn’t see anyone from my school in the store.  It was one thing to be the shy kid or the new kid at school; but the kid with the smelly crotch, that would surely lead to me becoming a serial killer one day. Continue reading