Please Go Away

One of these days the alien demon will escape through your fake smile.


You're gay. We get it. You also contribute nothing to society.

Now shut up, you squealy little punk.

The reason why the N word is still a legitimate noun.


Quite squinting at me, you stuck up chirpy bitch.


I hated this smug little lesbian slut in third grade when she was Pippi Longstocking.


There are no words, in any combination, in any language, in any universe,
that can adequately describe how much you guys suck.


Hey, aren't you the smarmy psychology prof who flunked me
while banging coeds in exchange for good grades?


The only hot cunt no man wants to fuck.


The only thing more retarded than anti-blackface urban hip-hop epileptic twatwads is -
There is nothing more retarded than anti-blackface urban hip-hop epileptic twatwads.


Tonight's nightmare brought to you courtesy of Slickface McGloryhole.


Pop 'n' Douche the Pricksbury DoughNazi.


If Amy Winehouse mated with Mr. Potato Head.

Kingfisher's Cultural Poker Hands

9 Best Hands

Lost child beats: Pregnant woman
Pregnant woman beats: Frail senior
Frail senior beats: Mentally impaired
Mentally impaired beats: Blind
Blind beats: Wheelchair
Wheelchair beats: Broken down car woman
Broken down car woman beats: Stray dog
Stray dog beats: Hitch hiker
Hitch hiker beats: Panhandler

Anything (a dead cockroach, for example) beats these 9

Winning season Little League coach
Humvee soccer mom
Discovery Channel know-it-all
Initials on tailored shirt cuff salesman
Obese bitch/bastard with handicapped plates
“Will work for…” parking lot sign guy
Sour grandma on power scooter
High speed lane changing motorcycle prick
Don’t-dare-look-at-my-obvious-implant-cleavage-presented-for-your-approval chick

9 Guys That Annoy Me

"I only need three hours of sleep. I get up at 3:30 every morning."
Um, remind me not join you on any long distance road trips. I'd love to see the quality consistence of whatever work it is that you do. Here's a clue for ya: you may feel superior; I think you're lying blowhard.

"Kingfisher's next drink is on my tab."
Look, you drunken fool, I don't like you. We're not friends. Everyone else may take advantage of you, but I'm gentleman enough not to in your daily inebriated state, and not bring attention to your hypochondriac opinionated boorishness. I hate feeling obligated, but if you sneak one in on your tab, I won't feel guilty for not buying you one.

"Can you get this report for my client?"
Sure. But if I bring it to you an hour later and you have already given them one, and it's wrong, I will break your teeth with my staple remover.

"Sir, do you know how fast you were going?"
What is this? Cash Cab? Do I win something if I get it right? Or are you just asserting your God-complex jerkoff coppitude? Just gimme the chicken shit ticket for going 60 in a 55 while everyone else whizzes by at 80. Remember when a policeman was your friend? Not no more.

"Yeah, I hit the gym before work this morning. (stretch) Got a tennis game tonight. Got a mountain bike ride on Saturday. (flex) Going kayaking Sunday."
Great! I'll say hi to your wife at the bar later. If I wasn't married, I'd be riding her implants within 2 hours.

"Income taxes are unconstitutional. The IRS can't force you."
Sigh. 100 years of this argument hasn't worked, buddy. Take off the tinfoil hat and PAY YOUR GODDAM TAXES you worthless pile of ignorant sludge. Then I wouldn't have to process your wage levy. All three of them. Idiot.

"God bless you." (after I sneeze)
Arrggh! Why do you insist on perpetuating this stupid superstitious pagan ritual? Isn't it a little condescending to assume I want your God's blessing? Do expect me to say the same? I sometimes do, but only when someone belches or farts.

"BBLLLBBBRRRBRRRBLLBRRRRR"
Middle-aged Harley guy, with your bondage outfit and German WWII helmet and white nicotine stained mustache and your hey-this-is-america-freedom-is-mine arrogance, I was enjoying this quiet Grand Canyon rim with ravens' calls and wind in the pines until you FUCKED EVERYTHING UP WITH YOUR GOD GIVEN RIGHT TO BE A LOUD ASSHOLE. Impinging on everyone else's space with whatever you want to do because it isn't physically threatening is not Freedom. It is rude, irritating, arrogant, and the exact antithesis of liberty and civility. And you are not a rebel. You are, however, a huge donkey sucking asstard fuckhat. It is my fervent wish that road pizza is in your immediate future.

"F-R-E-E that spells free, credit report dot com BAY BEE"
Everybody in that car deserves to die. Especially the non-guitar playing pothead qwerbo in the back.

The Meaning Of Life

- or -

The Myth of Individual Importance

The first law of thermodynamics states that energy cannot be created nor destroyed, but it can change forms.

You are not important. This is the harshest reality, the most difficult to accept, and the reason God was invented.

Existence is all that matters. No philosophy of good versus evil , no definition of being can change that. We are important because we believe ourselves to be. To believe otherwise is antithetical to the progression of our generation, the acceptance that something other is worthy to replace us. We must believe the ineffectual scrabbling of our lives has some value, otherwise there is nothing to promise our progeny, nothing to to help us carve out our territory against the unending armies of other life forms, known or unforeseen, that seek to overwhelm us with their own insatiable claim of supremacy.

To paraphrase Carl Sagan, there are those who ask where the universe came from. There are those who reply the universe came from God. Where did God come from? God always was. Why not save a step and say the Universe always was? I interpret this to mean: Why must existence hinge on something we can identify? Why must we understand everything? Can we not use our intelligence to say some things are beyond the grasp of that intelligence? Is it not hubris and conceit and defeat to demand otherwise?

Is it so horribly inconceivable to be unimportant? Is it not beautiful and natural to be a link in the Universe's undefined, unyielding, and unfathomable chain? Can we not accept that all things, from individuals to species to stars, die? Can we not accept that those deaths are transformations separate from our miniscule beliefs and attempts to assign meaning?

I return to the physical "law" described at the start. Just as with the death of a tree in the forest, our world and our sun will fall to nourish that which comes after. In this way we are immortal. We have no say in what we may bring about. We are unimportant, but that does not detract from the grandeur of continuance, of our place in it. This is the acknowledgment of things greater than ourselves. It is our evolution. It is our salvation.

After his death Carl Sagan's widow, Ann Druyan, was asked: "Didn't (he) want to believe?" She responded, "He didn't want to believe. He wanted to know." *

What benevolent deity would deny us knowledge? It is like a dessert promised after a meal we can't eat. Why would s/he impart that knowledge only after we are dead? Wouldn't that knowledge be best put to use while we are alive? If the answer is "Yes," than God, whatever you perceive it to be, is be a cruel and sadistic taskmaster. If we cannot believe the latter, then the former must also be disbelieved. This is the atheist's denial of the existence of God. It is not disbelief, it is acknowledgement of the fundamental workings of the universe independent of belief.

What comes after? What will happen tomorrow? How long will we be remembered? It does not matter. We cannot control the answers to these questions, so the weaker of us devise scenarios that please them, that placate the deep but distasteful knowledge that we will be forgotten.

The meaning of life is simply this: There is no meaning. We are infinitely unimportant. Everything just is.

Everything, of which we are part, exists and continues.

* Some will question my references to Carl Sagan. What makes my respect for his thoughts different from Biblical quotes? Each of us finds truth expressed in another great thinker's words. One invites acceptance, rejection, or revision. The other demands adherence or refutation of any other claim as false or suspect. Which is more reasonable?

N Word Redux

I wanted to comment on a dear friend's blog about his/her use of the word "tard." I realized it wasn't my place to clutter his/her space with my inflammatory opinion, so I'll do it here. If you haven't read my pissed offedness at PC censoring, go here.

To the offended commentor: Who are you to cast aspersions on someone else's words? By your own admission "mentally retarded" is okay, but "tard" is not. Fuck you. You are playing with semantics in an effort to erase something that is offensive to YOU. Thicken your skin a little, for whining out loud, and stop the hypocrisy.

I take Prozac. I freely admit it, although the admission elicits negative presumptions in many quarters. Unlike retards, cripples, PMSers, or fags, my perceived affliction/impairment/abnormality is fair game. You can call me nuts, fruitcake, whackjob, whatever you want. Why? Because I know the truth. I spread that truth by living my life and ignoring John Q. Retard, and by not jamming my my sensibilities down somone's throat.

I don't know the relationship between the parties in question. To me it doesn't matter. I saw past the perceived insult to the story and joke within the experience retold. Anyone who reads my friend's blog with any regularity knows his/her innate goodness and gentleness. He/She can use whatever words he/she wants to make a point. If it offends me, I don't deserve to read it.

You, my blog friend, showed the caring sweetness that is your soul by apologizing, but it was wholly unnecessary.

You, the offended commentor, are a miltant do-gooder pussy. Just to be fair, I visited your blog. I found it trite, syrupy, and mildly offensive to some of MY sensibilities. But it's YOUR space and YOUR words. I would not dare leave my comment advocating my opinions to the contrary, because whatever you espouse is important to you.

Give the rest of us the same courtesy.

I gotcher insult right here.

Put Up Or Shut Up

Stick to your guns, even if you are wrong. Apologize if necessary, learn from your mistake, and make amends, but never say you are sorry for being what you are. Be maligned, ridiculed, questioned, but live with passion and you will never be ignored. Say it. Mean it. Fuck it. Hate yourself later.

I have seen a steady decline in my written ouput, with a corresponding decrease in visitors and my creative self esteem. I didn't know what it was. Possibly it was due to a number of factors. But I do know that without passion all is naught.

Then, thanks to my friend Tiff, I realized that a workout regimen doesn't work out without a partner. You won't commit to it unless you feel you are letting someone down, or you need to do better than them, or they are kicking your lazy ass off the couch.

Hence, the relaunch of Wordsmiths Unlimited. Go there. Now.

It is scary to expose your spirit, or air your thoughts, or expose something you think. Contentment is sometimes stagnant. Opinion is sometimes blind. To DARE is, I will argue, the only state worth living. Life is not a trivial exercise. Played right, the minutiae of it can be a lesson and an affirmation. It will be good for me. It could be good for you.

Forward and onward, armed with intellect, fear, and a cautious disregard for the unknown.

Join me. Go there. Now.

Refuse to shut up.

Nigger

There. I said it. And 99.9% of us, including me, are offended.

You know what? Fuck you.

"Looking back on when I
Was a little nappy headed boy..." Stevie Wonder

"Cant turn a ho into a housewife

Hos dont act right...Cmon, nigga why..." Ludacris

"That's some nappy headed hos there..." Don Imus

Don Imus is a jackass. And so are you.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

As sure as I live and breathe there is a supreme human right: The right of free speech, the right to express thought, the right to make our ideas heard, the right to be heretical, the right to listen to ideas and learn from or discard them, and THE OBLIGATION TO IGNORE ANY IDEA EXPRESSED.

You may be offended. You may agree. You may not care. But my words are MY WORDS. You have no right to censor me, no matter what I say.

I'm willing to bet all of us have a list of 100 words that offend us, or would rather not hear. Does that mean those words are patently offensive? Does that mean those words should not be used? Does that mean those words are heresy?

Nigger.

Is that word more offensive than faggot? or cunt? or kike? or cracker? or Satan? or Nazi? or asshole?

If you believe "Yes, there is a difference. 'Nigger' is an abomination of a word, a reminder of hundreds of years of degradation, dehumanization, evil!" You are correct. But it is still a legitimate word.

Does that mean "Christ Killer!" should not be used? After all, the history of Jewish subjugation out-performs African slavery by thousand of years. If you disagree, then you have imposed your indignation and elevated your perceived sense of wrongdoing above everyone else's experience. And that makes you as wrong as the words you rail against.

Words are powerful.

And that is the beauty and wonder and aggravation of human communication.

BUT THE WORD IS NOT THE THING.

Words are only as powerful as you allow them to be. The more you invest energy in decrying a word, the more power that word has.

Listen all you faggots, cunts, niggers, and motherfuckers: turn down the sensitivity knob, and grow the fuck up.

Jesus, Mohammed, Confucius, Galileo, Aristotle, Hitler, Shakespeare, Machiavelli, Rand, Dante, Falwell, Sharpton, YOU. They all said controversial and perhaps heinous things. But their WORDS made us THINK.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The rest of us are waiting.

When you evolve, so will the HUMAN race.

Asshole, Or Not?

I used to be an asshole. Depression diagnosed, medication prescribed, soul searching completed, ability to "go with the flow" enhanced.

But sometimes, jerk offs just plain piss me off. I have spent so much time swallowing my pride, ignoring the boorish, trying to be nice. But not this time. I rejected the quiet acceptance of shitheads, and rediscovered my gonads.

Friday. Everyone wants to chill out. I picked a spot at the sports bar, signed in on the trivia box, settled in to genial converstation with other patrons. Then Jerkwad sat down.

Between the barstool I sat on and Jerkwad were three other barstools. He proceeded to push the empty stools in my direction, so that they touched each other, and propped his feet up on the one closest to him. Then he brought out his cell phone.

For 30 minutes I endured his phone conversations, punctuated by "dude" and "shit" and "see how important I am." For 30 minutes I endured his pounding of the bar, which sent vibrations my way, an annoyance to my ability to press the right buttons on the trivia box. For 30 minutes I endured his kicking of the nearest barstool, which trasmitted through the chain of barstools he had pushed my way, clunking at my ass in varous degrees. For 30 minutes I held my tongue. For 30 minutes I debated why I could be an absolute asshole. For 30 minutes, I hated myself and my culture that refuses to tar and feather the fuckers that have rights they don't deserve when we should be able to ride them out on the rail and put them in the stockade to humiliate them in front of the people they have insulted and oh oh oh arrrgh goddammit argggh ARRRGHHHHHH!!!

So I turned to the cretin and blew up like 2,000 Old Faithfuls.

"I AM HERE TO RELAX! DO I HAVE TO LISTEN TO EVERY PETTY PIECE OF CRAP IN YOUR LIFE?"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

The bar was silent. He made some lame comment. Ten minutes later he hung up, paid his bill, and left.

The regulars said, "Jeez, Kingfisher. I've never seen you wonk out like that."

So I leave it to you, dear readers. Asshole, or not?

Girls 0, Boys -28

Modern western culture demeans women.

Modern depictions of women are detrimental to a girl's psychological growth.

Models, Hollywood stars, and cheerleaders erode a girls self-esteem.

It is waaaaay past time to to call utter BULLSHIT on this bunch of wussing out.

If your daughter is bulimic or anorexic or cutting herself or in a perpetual state of depression, get her to a medical professional. If a regimen of depression medication and counseling doesn't work, quit blaming the rest of us. You, the parents, have fucked up royally by not hugging her, playing with her, teasing her, generally making her feel special, disciplining her, and imparting that most important of all lessons: Life is not fair. I feel very sorry for your girl. Not because she has self-esteem issues, but because she has REALLY CRAPPY PARENTS. You have made her ripe for the picking by the dickhead lurking in her future.

I can hear it: "Kingfisher, you are an insensitive prick." No, I am not. I am the eldest of four brothers. I have two sons and one daughter. I have a nephew and two nieces. I have a brother-in-law and two sisters-in law. I have more qualifications to discuss this than a fleet of New York psychologists teamed up with a panel of Los Angeles fat camp counselors. Why? Because I, my wife, parents, siblings, and children have been living in the real world. That's why.

Quick. Name four female superheroines. "Wonder Woman. Uh...Storm. Uh........Supergirl. Uh....."

Quick. Name four male superheroes. "Superman. Batman. Spiderman. The Flash. Wolverine. The Hulk. Green Lantern. ....." That proves males are better represented to children aren't they?

WRONG. Notice how they are all incredibly smart, unbelievably strong, muscles bulging, saving the world, never wrong, subjugating themselves for the greater good. What does that teach a boy? You must be strong, you must be dependable, responsible, loyal, available on demand, willing to sacrifice yourself for any reason. At all times and in all conditions. If you are not uber-successful, and infinitley manly, you are a failure.

I could go and on and on with examples like athletes, James Bond, rappers, Donald Trump, marines, and cowboys, as counter-productive raised-consciousness feminazi PETA wymmyn nitwits are prone to do, but I'm a reasonable person. I don't need to beat you over the head. Unless you care to argue ad infinitum because you are an "everybody in the contest gets a prize!" hippie; then I need to beat you over the head with a shovel until your skull caves in.

Girls aren't the only ones having a hard time growing up. To treat them like the opening sentences of this stupid rant is paternalistic, sexist, short-sighted, and destructive. Females are smart. Females are tough. Females have stamina. Females are the future of humanity.

But do you also see boys have a hard time growing up? To treat them like the examples in the rest of this stupid rant is unfair, unreasonable, sexist, demeaning, and destructive. Males are smart. Males are tough. Males are not disposable. Males are the future of humanity.

I dream of a day when our children are recognized for the humans they will become, and treated equally. I dream of the day when the differences between girls and boys are recognized, and those differences are reflected in school curricula. I dream of the day when our children are parented as individual humans with individaul needs, not strictly boy or girl, without argument over left brain/right brain, girl brain/boy brain, but the recognition that they are simply different. I dream of the day when boys and girls are segregated sometimes, to learn in their own way with each other, and integrated at other times, so they learn to grow together with each other. I dream of the day when we realize the company of our gender without the other is recognized as important and necessary, not exclusionary. I dream of the day when a Men's Club is not assaulted by women, when Ladies Drink Free isn't reverse discrimination. I DREAM OF THE DAY WHEN THE SEXES ARE EQUAL, YET DIFFERENT. If you invoke the Supreme Court racism decision at this point, you have completely missed my intent, and need to get off my planet.

Until that day of which I dream, the rest of you please shut up. You aren't helping. We are different. We are the same. We need to laugh at each other, criticize each other, love each other, roll our eyes at each other, grit our teeth at each other, talk to one another, accept each other. We need to help each other when life is unfair, supporting but not coddling, giving a well-deserved smack to the head and a "Get Over It" when necessary. Only then will we grow up and evolve as homo sapiens: "wise man." If you take exception to that name/taxonomic term/symantic expedient, your are focusing on "man" and not "wise."

Tell me to go to hell if you wish. I'll gladly oblige, because heaven has got to be full of you pussies.

If You're Gonna Write...

I am more dense than a waterlogged oak, but these are some of my rules for writing.*

1) Is it grasped on first read? If not, the writer needs to address the work to the audience. If I have no idea what you are trying to convey, YOU messed up, not me. Finnegan's Wake and The Bible require additional reading, very little else does. The answer "read it again" is the response of the inexperienced. You are NOT a misunderstood future legend. If you think you are, there is a 99.997% probability that you are crap.

2) Are there too many vague references? If so, the writer may assume an experience the reader doesn't share. Step away from your work. Read it aloud. Use the eyes and hands of a surgeon. Your voice is not necessarily one that others care to hear.

3) Metaphor is a writer's best tool, used sparingly. Use one or two, not twelve. Too much and it tires the reader. Don't use adverbs like "sparingly."

4) Almost all amateur poetry is a laughable yawn. If you are not Frost or Dickinson, don't use it in your fiction. Poetic prose and prose poems are oxymorons, unless you have had at least 75 books on the best seller lists. Even then it is likely it annoys or bores the crap out of everyone but the author.

5) Jello is not a word, it is a trademark. Gelatin, or swamp, or tar pit are options, depending on your desired degree of description. When in doubt, dump the obvious and reach for the thesaurus. When not in doubt, dump it anyway and reach for the thesaurus. Just don't let the thesaurus do your writing for you.

6) Compound sentences are good. Too many, and it reads like blah blah blah. Change it up with some short ones. Some call it stream of consciousness. I call call lack of focus. A good way to write is to shotgun words on the page. Then pare it back by 20%. Then pare it back by 10%. When you think it's perfect, pare it back by 5%.

7) Check your tenses fifty times. There may be nothing that were harder to read than what would be a verb that is might have been once.

8) The true mark of a writer is to listen to criticism. If you think the critique is wrong, do it your way anyhow. If everyone still says "Huh?" you've missed something. Almost none of us are geniuses ahead of our time. Bask in praise. Then ignore it and do the opposite, or at least the sideways, of what is praised.

9) Break the rules if you can, just remember that like sports, you must know the rules of the game before you can exploit them. No one ever learned to read without practicing the alphabet first.

10) ALL WRITERS SCREW UP. Even Shakespeare had his detractors. Chances are very, very, very, very good you are not Shakespeare. You probably aren't even Ayn Rand.

Hate your critics. Give them the finger. Punch a pillow. Cry in your beer. When you calm down, you may see they were right about something. Remember that the work is for the reader, not the writer. I can produce a delicious first draft, only to have my wife say it's boring or confusing or worthy of nothing but the garbage can. I can be pissed, but realize she is right, and rewrite it. Even then, it will need work. Much more work.

All this said, I am not published. I have been rejected several times. It is quite likely I have no idea what I'm talking about. But I don't think so.

One thing is certain: If you don't write it, no one will read it.

* Based on a critique of a respected fellow amateur writer's work.
And my work can use a whole lotta buncha revision. Or a trash can.

Antibiotic Devolution

Antibiotic: "against life."

Life is omnipresent. It does not care. It pushes. It fights. It never quits. We ignore it at our detriment. I am convinced that the downfall of humanity will not be nuclear war, nor asteroid impact, nor resource depletion. It will be the simplest of organisms that laugh in our face, stick us in the ribs, and wipe us out. We deserve it if we continue our present path and philosophy of sterility.

Human life will end just as H.G. Wells postulated, if you read The War of the Worlds sideways. Bacterium, virus, germ, parasite, or invader: whatever you call it, it will claim our myopic and unworthy species. The end will not manifest itself by epidemic, or pandemic, or any other -demic. It will visit us with stealth, one person at a time. With small dilutions of each generation, it will take control. With microscopic talons and teeth and subterfuge it will erode us.

The enemy has always been with us. We evolved together, an arms race kept in balance, each sacrificing the individual for the species. In the last century we have given the enemy an invitation to join us around the campfire, an opportunity for it to learn our strategy, our plans for war. We humans have battled and slaughtered, and will ultimately lose.

How many times have you flushed the public toilet with your foot? How many times have you pushed the revolving door with your hip? Have you ever used a pay phone with a tissue on the mouthpiece? Have you ever hesitated before shaking hands? Have you ever heeded the advice to turn on/off the faucet with your elbow wrapped in a paper towel? Do you wonder who has touched the vegetables in the supermarket before you buy them?

Stop it. You are not protecting yourself, or by extension, our species. To the contrary, you are killing us, ensuring our eventual downfall. I am not suggesting that we go around sneezing on each other's food, or licking the outhouse seat, or having unprotected sex in a Taiwanese hog farm. I am not suggesting an end to tetanus shots. I am suggesting that we start living with and acknowledging the minor inconveniences of the natural world, instead of ignoring them, arming against them without reasonable cause, or above all, fearing them. The immunity of any individual, species, or system is only as effective as the exposure to its threats.

So let your baby suck on the car keys and swallow small amounts of playground sand. The crud they ingest makes us strong. There is no such thing as an antibiotic. The inconvenient, guilt inducing screams of a child's ear ache may just save us all.

Vocabular Exclusionism

"The contract had a buyout provision. The sum of all payments was greater than 85% of the basis value. It had a transfer of ownership clause. The idiot couln't tell me whether it was a capital or an operating lease. The monthly journal entries debited lease expense, offset to accounts payable or prepaids. I invoked Sarbanes-Oxley and nailed her to the internal control manifesto. Can you believe that?"

Are you impressed? I didn't think so. Some of it is GAAP (Generally Accepted Accounting Principles) and some of it is utter bullshit. I know the difference, and can pick out which is relevant and which is sarcasm. Do you care? Of course not. So why do so many idiots think we understand, much less care, about the esoteric language of their occupation? Listen up, boneheads. We don't understand and we don't care. It's as obvious as your lack of social skills that you are trying to feel superior. But you don't make us feel inferior. You make us feel annoyed. Get off your perceived intellectual pedestal and eat a heaping platter of steaming turd sausages. The following are some favorites deserving of a kick in the the dick.

Engineer: "The coriolus effect negated any possible quantum derivative of the universal constant. Given the hypothetic gravitational construct, probability theory dictates a null result."

Response: "I don't understand. Please shut up."

Military: "A PxF 54th grade presence warranted a pre-ballistic battalion response. Longitude-inlflicted altimeter strategy was the obvious result of air countermanded Grade 7 juxtapositional ground assault."

Response: "You don't understand. Please shut up."

Computer Nimrod: "CII FRAB is obsolete. Recog in CBQV search shows -0- clabber infrastructure. How does the relational thread recoup redundant vascillation?"

Response: "You're making shit up. PLEASE shut up."

Auto Mechanic: "_____sayanythingtheywon'tknowthedifference_____"

Response: None needed. High school drop out asshole. Makes more money than you will ever see. Fucker.

Construction Worker: "Dude! He retreated the backhoe without lifting the snarky bucket! So I had to flip the mudjoint and spot weld the fascia to a non-code k-value easement!"

Response: "Without a Union, you would be mucking out the septic tank of a debtor's prison. Fucker."

Cop/Firefighter: "stuff that no one can figure out because it's all coded with greek letters and roman numerals and colors and obscure dog breeds and GMT and metric/imperial/cubit analogs and bradbury metaphoric conversion."

Response: "YES SIR! Here is my driver's license, proof of insurance, social security number, blood type, shoe size, sperm count, DNA signature, and complete elementary school community college swinger club history. Fucker."

Airline Worker: "Welcome to Cattle Airlines. We know you have a choice placard in the seat in front of you emergency exit luggage shifts in transit I have a lanyard identification and you don't you are sitting in an emergency row have some crappy peanuts..............."

Response: "Drunken bastards up front and community theatre jaggoffs showing us how to use a seat belt. Worthless overblown fuckers. In the event of a water landing, you are fucked beyond all fuck."

Trucker: "I've seen more of this country than you. Quit driving your car in front of me. Nobody knows better food than I do. Strikkee's outside of Omaha. Try living off of 2 hours of sleep a night while hauling hogs from Charleston to Seattle and listening to Toby Keith the whole way. And the gubment is for the minorities."

Response: "You know the best gay blowjobs at the rest stop at exit 94 on I-69 east of Duluth."

Cancer Survivor: "hippie psychologist maudlin holier than thou take pity on me but I don't need your pity and you cannot understand blah blah blah count your blessings EVERYTHING in the universe revolves around breast testicle ovary pancreas lung shinbone ankle scalp cancer (ignore all of the other human ills) blah blah blah."

Response: "You know what? I don't have cancer. You think you are better than me. Shut the fuck up."

Kingfisher: "Damn, I'm good. Read my stuff!"

Response: "Drop dead from eating diseased shit, Kingfucker."

In Praise Of Male

Some things are inherently male. Females can participate, but they will always be second place in certain areas of the Alpha Male life. The following are some I fervently believe are the sole province of Manliness.

Holding the door
Courtesy. Compassion. First to arrive and scope things out. Watching out for the tribe. When the progressive lesbiatch scowls at your denigrating of her abilities, hold it longer and smile wider.

Tolerance
But we will still laugh at the lisping gay guy.

Corkscrews
Not the lever type. Not the butterfly type. Not the civil engineering behemoth mounted to the bar type. No. Only the simple single helix, Swiss army knife type. Used to open your lover's bottle of wine with strength, finesse, and libido.

Fart jokes
Like The Three Stooges. Timeless. Classic. Always funny.

Tampons
We want to DIE. But we bought them. We love you.

Uncoordinated dork dance
We only dance because you want us to. Unless it involves a bonfire, animal skins, bragging rights, and outright lies.

Crying
At sunsets. And movies. And weddings. And babies. But you won't see it, even though we know you do.

Wrong
We always are. But screw you. We will not admit it. It ain't fair, but we need every advantage we can get.

Women’s sports
Oxymoron. Unless it involves swimwear.

Toilet paper
Ladies, you can cut yourself while shaving your legs. But only a man has the courage to look you in the eye with new scabs and toilet paper pieces on his face.

Flowers
The greatest concealed ulterior motive, and the one thing women haven't caught on to. Nothing says "I (love you) wanna get in your pants" like the reproductive organs of a plant. Slam dunk.

Floorplay
Under dogs and toddlers. Sorry, girls. Every child will remember this.

Firewood
I cut it. I split it. I hauled it. I stacked it. I burned it. You're welcome.

Battle of the sexes
Throw us a bone. We pretend there is a battle because we knew the war was lost when we dropped out of the trees. See: Helen, Cleopatra, Elizabeth I, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Xaviera Hollander.

The Bryan Adams lyric
"When you can see your unborn children in her eyes,
Then you know you really love a woman."

Further Proof That China Sucks

From the Associated Press:

Sep 13, 2005 — SHANGHAI, China

Farewell, "Aladdin Gardens." "White House Mini District" you're history.

The southwestern Chinese city of Kunming is forcing developers to change the names of those properties and others deemed too foreign sounding, saying they debase traditional culture, officials said Tuesday.

At least nine developments in Kunming, the capital of Yunnan province, have changed their names since officials began implementing new guidelines last month. "Paris of the East Plaza," "French Gardens," and "Ginza Office Tower," were among others making the change.

"It's not proper to name those communities with so many weird foreign titles (blog author: WTF?)," said an official with the Kunming Urban Planning Bureau, who like many Chinese bureaucrats would only be identified by his surname, Xiao.

* * * * *

I'd pay more attention to this guy(?) if he was wasn't named on planet Xthplcth. And didn't live a town named after an oriental porn film. Anyhoo, this is a great idea. I propose a similar arrangement here in America.

FORMER: Chinese Checkers
IS NOW: This is Boring

FORMER: Made in China
IS NOW: Cheap Crap

FORMER: Chinese New Year
IS NOW: We-onry-one-can-firework-regarry-ha-ha! Day

FORMER: Feng shui
IS NOW: Isor ayab (Idiotic Shit Only Retards And Yuppie Astologers Believe)

FORMER: Mogolian BBQ
IS NOW: Dungfire Yak on a Stick

FORMER: Panda Express
IS NOW: Glue Factory

FORMER: Mann’s (formerly Graumann’s) Chinese Theatre
IS NOW: Place of Big American Hands, Feet, and Other Things

FORMER: Chinese Embassy
IS NOW: House of Mirrors

FORMER: Chinatown
IS NOW: Ugly Red Furniture Land

FORMER: Chinese Laundry
IS NOW: Jones Family Confidential Shredding

FORMER: Five Stah Rotus Brossom Rucky Tigah Dlagon Buffet
IS NOW: Petsmart

Rubber Band Wrists

It started with the Tour de France. Lance Armstrong won it after fighting testicular cancer and the first ones showed up: the yellow rubber wristband. At first I thought it was pretty cool, as it brought attention to a major men’s health issue. We hear about breast and ovarian cancer, plus a host of other women’s health issues, and rightly so, but we rarely hear about men’s health issues. That’s because we’re disposable. At least that’s the way this white middle-class male feels.

But then these stupid yellow things were everywhere. People who had never heard of Lance Armstrong were wearing them. Ask them what they were for, and they would always say “Lance Armstrong.” Not testicular cancer awareness. It became a fad instead of something good.

Not satisfied with diminishing the issue enough, Crayola-bright bands started showing up all over the place. Some people were wearing three or four. I asked a guy about his. “The yellow is for Lance Armstrong. The blue is for the Chicago Cubs. The orange is for sumpin’ else.” Baseball and testicular cancer: The Great American Pastime.

To be fair, I’ve worn these three or four times myself. They had words and numbers on them. But since I was recovering from surgery, I can’t be certain what they represented.

I am wearing one right now. It’s transparent. It means you’re a retard.

Bring Me the Head of Paris Hilton

There is a secret society out there somewhere, namely the perpetuators of celebrity. I don't know who they are, never met one, but they are responsible for the Holy Order for the Adulation of Nimrods. I call upon all persons with more than two working brain synapses to root them out, torture them, and stop the the cult worship of the vacuous dandelion fluff mentioned above, and the following organisms I want out of my species' gene pool.

Britney (Brytanny? Briteknee?) Spears & Kevin Futterbutz: Give each of these two a rock, and I think they'd be too stupid to figure out how to bang them together.

Bill O'Reilly: The No Spin Zone? O'Really! Walter Cronkite is spinning in his grave. And he's not even dead yet.

Al Sharpton: Who does this kitty litter-stuffed glazed ham represent? I'm guessing one or all of the Four Horsemen.

J-Lo: aka Slutty McSlutslut. Only without the talent.

Ashton Kutcher: How dumb does a creature have to be before it forgets how to live? How annoying can the worst intestinal parasite be? Stay tuned!

Jerry Falwell: Jesus hates you. Really, he told me personally at the neighborhood topless bar. By the way, Jesus really digs dirty Asian chicks.

The Hottie Du Jour With Three Names (e.g. Jennifer Love Hewitt, Sarah Michelle Gellar, et al): I'm convinced there's a breeding farm for these Stepford Starlets somewhere in the San Fernando valley.

Snoop Doggy Drops: I'd rather my daughter was a crack whore addicted to porcupine porn before she got within 3,400 light years of your disgusting self-serving (c)rap.

Hillary Clinton: "Who are you? Who? Who? Who? Who? I really wanna know... Aw, who the fuck are you? You? You? Yeah you?"

Bono: Who voted him savior? Not me. Pope John Paul II will accept you into heaven, but not before he head-butts you with pope hat of humility.

The Sarcastic Blogger: Get over your jealousy already. Anger management classes figure prominently in your Tarot spread.

Lynyrd Skynyrd Is A Bunch Of Assholes

"Red, White, and Blue," by Lynyrd Skynyrd, has been popular for a while now. Rarely has a song pissed me off so much. I'm about as patriotic as they come, and I don't really care about the group either way, but for some reason this damn song rubs me wrong in so many ways. Read along and see if you don't agree.

We don't have no plastic L.A. friends
--(Well, I don't have no self-important closed-minded illiterate shithead redneck friends. What's your point?)
Ain't on the edge of no popular trends
--(Other than jumping all over the hyper-patriotic fuck-you "America can do whatever it wants" trend that is cornholing society?)
Ain't never seen the inside of that magazine GQ
--(Lemme guess, Guns and Ammo is more your speed.)
We don't care if you 're a lawyer, or a texas oil man
Or some waitress busting ass in some liquor stand
If you got soul we hang out with people just like you
--(Oh, Thank you! Thank you! Did you hear that, Mabel? Lynyrd Skynyrd has decided to come down from Mount Sinai and deigned to spend time with me! I can die happy now that someone so great thinks I'm OK! I'm not worthy! Are you gonna give me some Commandments now? You betcha - read on...)

My hair's turning white
--(So is mine. So what? Sing at the next AARP convention.)
My neck's always been red
--(Do I really need to comment here? Visions of NASCAR and drunken bass fishing abound.)
My collar's still blue
--(Yeah, and the white collar guy is making sure your paycheck is correct and on time, including the three wage garnishments and unpaid child support. And compliance with OSHA, ADA, EEO, FMLA, and all the other things that you sneer at, while working extra extra hours on salary. So lean against your backhoe and get paid 4 hours of overtime every day while 2 hours on the job are actually productive. God Bless The Mafia! Oops, I mean The Unions!
We've always been here just trying to sing the truth to you
--(Thank you again! I'm too stoopid to think clearly without the benefit of yor wizdumb.)
Yes you could say we've always been
Red, White, and Blue
--(And the rest of us haven't?)

Ride our own bikes to Sturgis, we pay our own dues
--(Do other people usually steal a bike to go to Sturgis? Dues for what? This phrase is usually used by folks without any real intelligence or prospects other than luck. Link "Paid my dues" with "School of Hard Knocks," and I'll show you an example of a worthless human bottom feeder.)
Smoking camels and drinking domestic brews
--(Reverse snobism.)
You want to know where I have been just look at my hands
--(Probably have a tatoo of a burning skull and teeth marks from roadhouse fights.)
Yeah, I've driven by the White House, spent some time in jail
--(Well, there's something to be proud of. Did you do something dumb at the White House? Like crush a Budweiser can on your forehead while waving your deer rifle? It's your God given right, y'know.)
Momma cried but she still paid my bail
I ain't been no angel, but even God he understands
--(Even God? Even? If anybody understood everything, I would think He would. You misused the phrase. This is correct: Even Lynyrd Skynyrd should know this song is pandering to the lowest common denomiator. Unless, and I think this is the inspiration for writing this piece of crap, you are more important than God.)

My hair's turning white
My neck's always been red
My collar's still blue
We've always been here just trying to sing the truth to you
Yes you could say we've always been
Red, White, and Blue
--(Heard it. Didn't like it the first time.)
Yeah that's right!
--(No, it's not.)

My Daddy worked hard, and so have I
--(No, you didn't. You got drunk, did drugs, wrote some macho asshole songs, and got lucky with a recording contract. And your precious God saw fit to kill some of you in a plane crash. Ah, sweet irony. Kiss my ass.)
Paid our taxes and gave our lives to serve this great country
--(OK, here's the part that really burns me. In all seriousness, there is no greater respect we can give than to thank and acknowledge our fighting men and women. If anyone deserved our collective gratitude, it is our service men and women, whether or not you supported the particular action in which they were involved. Some of the best and the brightest of our sons and daughters have shed their blood on foreign soil for the things we hold dear. I don't want to be a punk-ass. BUT. One of the things we hold dear is the right to speak out, to question, to disagree, to be free in our thought and philosophical exchanges. Implicit in this statement by the group, however, is that their opinion is somehow better than anyone else's. More than that, it is the only correct point of view. It bugs me that some military families and veterans have a Holier Than Thou attitude about their service. My grandfather, rest his soul, also served his country. He built warships in the shipyards. He built banks and houses after the war. He built dams and any number of other structures. He died a ripe old age. He paid his taxes. Is he somehow less relevant because he didn't get killed by an enemy bullet? The whole premise here is flawed and offensive.)
So what are they complaining about?
--(We're complaining because it is the foundation of this great country you are railing for. Namely, the Right to free speech, free thought, free opinion. Freedom. Isn't that what you are saying you gave your lives for? The hypocrisy is overwhelming.)
Yeah we love our families, we love our kids
--(You're right. None of the rest of us do. We're all troglodytes. Sorry to share your bright and shiny world.)
You know it is love that makes us all so rich
--(Rhymes with "kids...??")
That's where were at, if they don't like it
They can just get the hell out!
--(Oh, boy. I'm a pacifist, but now I just want to kick your teeth in. This is the rallying cry for all uber-flag-wavers. "La-la-la, I've got my fingers in my ears! If I can't hear you disagree, then I must be right!" There's patriotism, and there's wrapping yourself in the flag because you really don't have any substance to your argument. It is beneath you, and insulting to the rest of us.)

My hair's turning white
My neck's always been red
My collar's still blue
We've always been here just trying to sing the truth to you
Yes you could say we've always been
Red, White, and Blue oh...oh...
Red, White, and Blue
Red, White, and Blue oh...oh...
Red, White, and Blue
--(Only one last comment: Fuck You, Lynyrd Skynyrd. Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.)