Just in time for Christmas

I begin with the end. The end of compassion, the end of humanity, the end of loving thy neighbor. Just in time for Christmas.

The ruling came down in Los Angeles that Good Samaritans can be sued if they are deemed even remotely negligent. “If, however, a person elects to come to someone's aid, he or she has a duty to exercise due care”, according to Justice Carlos Moreno. Perhaps Judge Moreno would feel differently if he was left dying in a burning car because his body is slouching a bit to the left (as a result of the car being folded in half) and God forbid the poor fellows standing outside of the wreckage be burdened with financial culpability for not possessing the medical know-how to treat the honorable Judge Moreno with “due care”. In American, on average, there are 250 persons to every doctor. So the chances that the person driving behind is a doctor... well, the chances suck. And this ruling sucks my hairiest nut because now, during our biggest financial woes and the most snow this country has seen pre-Christmas in ages, each person on the road has to think twice before helping one another out of life-threatening circumstances.


Other thoughts for the Holidays and New Year:

• What happens when a person whose family opens gifts Christmas morning marries someone whose family opens gift Christmas Eve night? Soaring divorce rates.

• What’s with women plucking their eyebrows? I can see most other forms of hair removal being useful for sanitary/sexual/aesthetic purposes, but eyebrows are only good for keeping sweat out of your eyes. Is beauty actually achieved by carving out a constant expression of surprise on your face? As far as I’m concerned, it falls under the category of “Unnecessary”, along with gigantic, fake tits, injected lips and stripper nails.

• Mayonnaise is probably not a good lubricant, but I would be willing to try.

• Text messaging is a double-edged sword. It giveth, by helping you send fast, spelled out messages of info, love or warning without the interruption of a phone call. But it also taketh away, by stripping your words to emotionless, empty-toned type that can easily be taken out of context depending on your mood or situation. Basically, fuck text messaging. If it had balls, I would kick those balls through it’s asshole, granted it has an asshole as well.

• On a happier note, if Amazon.com had a vagina, I would thank her gigantic, sexy body for making my long-distance Christmas the easiest, most seamless one yet.

• So, none of the gifts people have sent to me made it in time for Christmas day. The pain, however, has been eased by an ENTIRE DAY OF LAW & ORDER. God bless us, every one.

Take today to enjoy your family, friends and anyone else who let's you enjoy them. Happy holidays and good luck not dying before the New Year.

- Atticus Winston

Celebuturd

One of the worst changes to befall America under the Bush administration was the shift of culture that unearthed our long buried interest of all things rich. We Americans have always been fascinated by those with money; the Kennedy's, the Trumps, the Ewing's , the Gates. Unfortunately, during this new millennium we have done more than show interest in those with upper-middle class money and average marketability. We’ve began to idolize them, to accept them as more than entertainment and allow their primitive, experience-less, vapid personalities to influence our culture and children. It seems as though the marketing people have won. They’ve changed your collective minds about the Paris Hilton-types. It is like Bush, I guess, in how they can make poor choices and spew stupid remarks and we not only forget but we embrace them as new, improved human beings nearly every six months. The status of the “Celeb-utante”, one in which you have no skills other than being marginally attractive, is attainable by having a family rich enough for you to not work so you can just tool around town in the latest fashion and piss daddy’s money away like champagne. I am in no way mad that this nonsense happens. People can live their lives how they want. Hell, I could have my own television show if I made it to the fifth round of reality game show that is a spinoff of a reality dating show that is about someone who didn’t win the “date-a-washed-up-B-lister” reality dating game show. If daddy had been rich I might well be traipsing the SoCal landscape in really tight button-ups and sunglasses bigger than my Miata. What I disagree with is how our country has began to idolize this caste. What kills me is that we used to cheer on the little guy, pushing him to overcome the challenges of being poor and unattractive because he had heart. That is what Americans respect, right? Those who have the courage to pull themselves from the depths and reach their dream? I guess I would just feel short changed if the person I admired, the image I devoted time and money to embrace, only had trite life challenges like a Kardashian family argument or figuring out who in The Hills cast slept with my girlfriend. In an time when families are losing their savings, houses and livelihoods, this type of escapism seems poisonous to our culture. It’s knowledge without responsibility. A young person will have a harder time putting away savings if they are afraid to live without the accessories that their idols have. I just hope there are parents out there reminding their kids that it's alright to be yourself and live within your means. That real life doesn’t have to consist of petty jealousies and deception. I want to believe our society can watch these shows and know that just because they are named “reality” doesn’t mean there is anything realistic about them. Perhaps that is where I am short sited. As life slowly and steadily begins to imitate art, this recession may last even longer than predicted.

Pre-Election Thoughts: Don’t Vote

Don’t Vote. Ignore all of the media outlets, megastars and your friends and family that tell you to vote. Don’t listen to them because they don't even know why they are saying it. It’s all a democratic ploy to bring out the stupid people because they think the trailer parks and ghettos are filled with potential votes for Obama, but they seem to have forgotten about the prairie folk and mountain inbreeders that are going to take the fastest tractor to town to make sure he doesn't win.

Personally, I’m voting Obama for the socialism. And those succulent LL Cool J lips. But for the rest of you assholes, I say “Don’t Vote”. Don’t. Stay home, watch your favorite daytime television shows, masturbate to the Who’s Nailin’ Palin video and do your best to not leave the house. Also, tell everyone you know not to vote. Post a sign in your lawn. Call your family. Withhold holiday cheer. Do whatever it takes to keep stupid people from the polls.

Why do I ask that people not vote? I have my reasons and you will find them below, stacked esthetically and numerated for your pleasure. But why do you say “Vote”? First off, who the fuck are you, the Nationalism Responsibility and Conduct Police? Why do you want people you don’t even know, that may have racially motivated or uneducated opinions, that have not done the footwork you have researching the candidates, that may be using this election as a platform to a modern day civil war, voting this election?

Here is why you should not vote:

1. If you don’t vote, my vote matters more.

It’s simple math. There are 305,561,506 people in America at the time of this post. Obviously they can not all vote, but humor me for one equation and let’s say 90 million vote. If everyone votes, my personal vote accounts for 0.00000111% of the outcome. But if people stop trying to influence others to vote and only 80,000,000 come out, my personal vote accounts for 0.00000124% of the outcome. You see? The less people who vote, the more influential my vote is.

On that same mathematical thought, if you tell one friend to vote and that person votes for a different candidate than you, you have essentially voided out your vote. Good job there, fuck stick.

2. Your opinions are not yours, they were fed to you by people that want to hurt you.

Have you ever said the following regarding Sen. Obama:

He is too inexperienced.
He is a terrorist/socialist/Marxist.
He associates with terrorists and radicals.
We need a black president.
I would never vote for a nigger.
Barack is pro-abortion.
Obama will raise your taxes.
He will save the middle class.

Have you ever said the following regarding Sen. McCain?

He’s too old.
He’s a Maverick.
John is more experienced.
He will be just like Bush.
His health care plan is the best.
McCain will lower taxes and cut spend.
He will save the middle class.

If you answered ‘yes’ to any of those statements, do not vote. You have not taken the time to see what each candidate is actually planning on accomplishing as the most powerful person in the world and, therefore, are obviously not prepared to contribute to an election that will change the course of the world.

The commercials, the pundits, the pamphlets, and everything you have heard from people around you who also drink from that same, poisoned teat, was whipped up by some bow tie and suspenders-wearing douchebag who is hired by the campaign to created fake thoughts, spread them on his member with a butter knife and thrust them excitedly into your heads via these different mediums.

You have a couple days left to pull your pants up, crank on that internet and get hip to the facts of their histories and platforms through unbiased sources. If, by Tuesday, you can not make an educated decision based on that information, DON’T VOTE. Instead, cook up some Cheesy Mac and enjoy your local cable provider’s OnDemand service.


3. Voting is a right, not a requirement.

If somebody doesn’t want to vote it is actually just fine and not a personal attack on you, so keep it in your pants and stop jumping on couches like an extra-gay Tom Cruise. That person may have motives, such as boycotting the fiftieth consecutive election where both choices are products of the same special interest-fueled government machine. Think about it; if you wanted to rid the NFL of spoiled, greedy players, you would need to begin drafting players from a pool other than spoiled, greedy NCAA players. The same applies to politics.


Look, my point is simple and there is nothing Spielberg or DiCaprio can say to downplay it: If you are not normally involved in the current and historic goings on of our country, don’t vote this Tuesday. Vote for something you do know about, like the PTA or American Idol. If you have to “tell” someone to vote, they probably don’t actually know what they are voting for. Any politically educated person will be at the polls. Any politically uneducated people should stick to the poles that pay their bills (i.e. barber, utility, stripper) and let those who actually care have a larger say in the future of the United States.

The Weekly Smatter, 10/26

3 Republican arguments that piss me off:

1. Democrats are big spenders.

Because the last Democratic president ended his presidency with a $559 billion surplus which has been drained into the red by our current Republican president? Right, got it. I’m not so much worried about how little McCain/Palin would spend but more about which of his friend’s pockets he’d fill with it. And this pipeline situation isn’t helping.

2. Obama is a closet socialist.

It’s amazing how Republicans have a knack for making their followers feel like wealthy, fanatically hard-working individuals, whether or not they do anything more difficult that your average "Joe". I liken this derangement to the people who work at Cinnabon and have a Coach bag and Dolce sunglasses.

“You ain’t helping no bums with my tax money” they yell from their massive SUV en route to their $500K home. It’s okay that they make a collective $80k a year and the mortgage and fuel cost more that caring for their 2.3 kids. You idiots are losing your house because you bought one well out of your financial range. Why? Because anything smaller would have made you less Republican. And not having kids would’ve been less Catholic. You are what’s wrong with the economy. Considering we have no middle class left, are all these McCain people really standing around defending businesses that make over $250k from getting a little more tax responsibility? If so, notice how a quarter of the crowd’s eyes dart around looking to make sure nobody notices that they aren’t business owners nor are they rich.

Linda Sanchez, a Web developer, said only Mr. McCain appealed to her ethic of personal responsibility. "Anybody who believes they can work hard and better themselves and make life better for their children and their family should like this message," she said. "People who just want to sit back and get a handout, they're going to go with" Mr. Obama.

The claim: Obama would collude with congressional Democrats to hike taxes and spending. I can see how that would swoop every fear-induced McCain supporter into screams of “Down with Socialism”. Ms. Sanchez later went on to talk about how she exploited her friends in time of illness. She doesn’t specify whether she utilized unemployment services from her state, so I will just assume so and consider her a friend-abusing, government-money wasting whore.

3. Democratic, single-party rule in the nation's capital is dangerous.

Yeah, it’s dangerous for Republican relevance. Democratic dominance beginning in 1992 yielded N.A.F.T.A., the Family and Medical Leave Act, some gun-control legislation, and "don't ask, don't tell" among many others. What has been accomplished since 2000? 4,187 dead American soldiers, 30,723 wounded, 1,273,378 dead Iraqis, a greater intolerance of gays, minorities and women, and a $454.8 billion deficit.


Are people really watching this High School Musical crap? Other than rivaling Stars Wars for “Campiest Trilogy” and featuring over-developed teenagers who they can exploit for hormone-based sales, I don’t quite see why this franchise is so successful.


The International Monetary Fund is standing by its managing director, Dominique Strauss-Kahn, despite his sexual affair with a subordinate. Strauss-Kahn described the affair as a “serious error of judgment”. Damn, she must have been fugly to require such harsh words for separation. That’s meaner than a donkey punch and a strawberry shortcake in the same night. His wife said that the affair had been a “one-night stand,” and that the couple had “turned the page.” Which conjures images of Bob Seger donkey punching Enrique Iglesias. Hot.


The OECD released a study Tuesday proving the gap between rich and poor is widening in North America and Europe. Lindsay Lohan’s thighs are relived to have spotlight off of them.


The Economists’ Policy Group for Women’s Issues (don’t ask, they just exist) released letter-grade ratings for the presidential candidates on ten issues “vital to women”. This list did not include their takes on Nivea products nor last week’s episode of The Hills.

We’re tired of hearing about the Joes (as in Six Pack and Plumber) and want more attention to the Joannes — the women in our economy who typically earn less money and shoulder more family responsibilities than men

- blurted committee member Amherst Nancy Folbre while etching ‘I (heart) Obama’ on the back of her notebook with a Sharpie.

Is the outcome of this report (Sen. Obama a ‘B’ and Sen. McCain a ‘D’) really a surprise? As I so sneakily responded in the comments, a Republican’s job is be in charge of all women’s bodies, minds or choices. The Grand Ol’ Party would love nothing more than barefoot, pregnant kitchen-dwellers that dare not naysay the man of the house or even imagine voting. Why would a MAVERICK like McCain even bother changing something as silly as women’s rights? Palin couldn’t be reached for comment, as she was in back sitting silently with ankles covered.

Debata-balls IV: The Last Temptation (of the Undecided)

Live Blogging of the Presidential Debates continues...

If McCain trades anymore thoughts and prayers for votes, he may break a pelvis.

Fuck Joe. Is this Joe “The Plumber or “Six-pack”? Are they one and the same?

Did I hear “Class Warfare”? Well played, McCain... well played.

Obama has a cool head when listening, but I think he should be leaning back and acting pimp. Snoop Dogg offers classes.

McCain just made a smart-ass remark and then laughed at it. That’s maverick!!!

My company is moving to Ireland!!! Fuck!!!!

Instead of green and red lights to prompt the candidates, Bob should start leaning toward the other candidate while still looking at the one talking, producing an expression of slight confusion and disinterest, ultimately making a “psh”sound .

A spending freeze proposal and a Hillary name drop? McCain’s swinging for a first-round knockout.

Are earmarks those things they put on wild animals to watch migration?

If you wanted to help America, you should’ve done it four years ago.

John is getting whiny, needs a hug. A big, cuddly KKK hug.

I care about feelings. Damn you, Obama.

Kurt Warner defeated Healthcare in Dallas.

I reiterate. Fuck Joe “Plumb-packs”.

John has been a crybaby all night.

Here it is!!! Acorn, terrorist, and mud-slinging. Oh my!!!

Nice, John. Who fucking cares about us anyways. I’d rather hear about Obama’s supposed terrorism instead of ANY thoughts on how you’ll make America all maverick-y like you.

Joe Biden is a servant who serves.

McCain is a Free Trader. He earned two patches for his sash this weekend by whittling and building a tent.

Automakers getting hammered? Nah. Not until lunch. They have principles.

McCain is not a funny person. At all.

Joe, Sen. Government will eat your children and rape your business from the back door.

Pro-Abortion. Nice name drop, John.

I am shocked they are talking about abortion so blatantly.

Pro-abortion movement. Nice name drop, John. Can’t wait for shot-outs to the Gay Agenda and the Tooth Fairy.

OBAMA HATES VIDEO GAMES. AND BABIES.

This split-screen makes it look like they are arguing Siamese twins that get into wacky Capital Hill adventures with zany lobbyist and a sultry governor.

I support vouchers for free booze. Charter booze.

He just snorted. McCain snorted. Fuck me, Hofstra.

I’m out. I’m gonna go vote now so that I can be a big, strong plumber.

Debata-balls III: Sen. Obama Emasculates The Microphone

Live Blogging of the Presidential Debates continues...

I don’t like this Town Hall format. McCain looks like he’s gonna punch someone in the front row right in their stupid, liberal piehole! Obama is thrown off by everyone eyeing his “stimulus package”. I realize it’s the Tuesday squad, but it’s awkward that no one has tossed at least a couple dollar bills on the stage.

Where are all of these letters the Senators have written? Does no one on Capital Hill open their mail? It took me a while to get a card snail-mailed from the East to the Midwest, but c’mon people. Send one of those creepy, mouth-breathing bike couriers next time.

GRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrr..... the McCain “S” whistles are becoming truly unbearable. It sounds like his uvula is making gay passes at Tom Brokaw.

America, do yourself a favor before quoting anything said tonight: FACT CHECK.

Okay, okay. McCain has a clear record. A “clear”record. That’s spin - like a record, baby! Of course it’s clear, but is it actually backing up his statements? Things that make you go hmmm...

The next debate should feature David Bowie as moderator/Exulted Ruler, giving a thumbs up or down that dictates whether or not the candidate is dipped into a vat of Astroglide that’s being churned by Shakira’s hips.

McCain has done nothing but throw mud and act like a tired, old fart. “Don’t worry. I can do it! I can do it just like I always have. I’m fine, I have a plan. Just shut up and go play outside while I nap.”

The “straight talk express lost a wheel”. Ha! It’d be like electing Martin Lawrence!

I’ve heard the word ‘record’ a lot. Do they mean the two broken records that are these guy’s twirling rhetorics?

Peace-making, peace-keeping. Same thing. Oh, he said “Piece Making”? Yeah, baby! McCain’s Cialis is kickin’ in, and just when he needed it like the commercial says!

McCain, Teddy Roosevelt called. He said, “Shut the fuck up”. The hung up and rolled over.

Damn. Obama face’d him on the Bomb vs. Speak softly thing. The audience smells burn. Brokaw checks his boxers.

Brokaw has no idea how to handle these maverick, celebrity-types. He should attend the Ed Hochuli School of Game Control.

Hey, New Hampshire lady. You what I don’t know? Why anybody in the country fully supports a McCain/Palin ticket, because it scares the shit dribbles out of me. Readers, tell me what you don’t know, preferably in comment form, ‘cause I’m out like Brokaw’s journalistic integrity.

Debata-balls II: The Screaming Pelican

Live Blogging of the Presidential Debates continues...

My blog would be best understood if you turned to any normal father buying his children McDonald's and ask them how to write about stupid, dancing answers to extremely important questions.

M.I.L.F.: Marginally Informed on Legislative Fundamentals

Palin is playing the ‘McCain cheerleader’ role just right. But FUCK, stop with the cutesy names for the sloths shoveling down a microwave dinner and watching King of Queens instead of the debate. “Joe Sixpack” will still come home October 2nd, 2012, with a paycheck that’s already spent and smack his “Hockey Mom” up and down “Main Street” whether you are elected or not. Darn right?

Yes, Sarah. Don’t answer the questions the way Joe and the moderator want. Just talk straight to the American People...’s “politically involved” hand. We are WORRIED about our financial future, you twit. At least try to participate in the bailout conversation Sen. Biden is already owning you on.

My four-year-old niece knows more about McCain’s Healthcare plan than this person. And she hates it more than peas. Is it me or is Gov. Palin skimping on numbers, specific fact and statistics? They can be matches when in the hands of a child.

I really want to rip on Sen. Biden, but this is just lopsided and cruel. She’s making him sound like a damned genius. But, to keep it in perspective, he is the Governor of Delaware. Delaware has the lowest highest elevation of all the states, and he hasn’t changed this like he promised in ‘06.

Where exactly has Gov. Palin heard the chant “Drill, baby! Drill!”? Doesn’t matter. She used it in the same paragraph as the word “raping”. She’s growing on me...

PALIN HATES GAYS. She just lost the “Hoping for a Palin/Rice sex tape ticket” lesbian vote.

BIDEN HATES GAYS. There. I ripped on him.

She said, “No withdrawal”. She’s no longer the only thing growing on me.

I was watching The Hole on Fox before the debates started. Apparently it was the only one Gov. Palin wasn’t crawling out of tonight.

Did Biden say “Dead Wrong” or “Dead Wong” about McCain? I can’t imagine either applying.

(Due to the lack of a “straight-talking” answer) PALIN SUPPORTS DARFURIAN GENOCIDE.

Mark Cuban brought litigation against Team McCain regarding the overuse of “Mavericks” in their campaign but soon rescinded when he realized his starter’s average age is equal to McCain’s.

Her “connection” as a mother, business owner, kid chauffeur, and fuel company jockey is enough experience to be VP? I can see it. Wait, this isn’t the Juneau Area PTA council vote? Uh oh.

McCain and Palin will fight for America. But not Michigan anymore. Or at least they won’t pay for it there. Come to think of it, McCain hasn’t paid for it since the war.

McCain: “Smell that? You smell that? “
Rove: “What?”
McCain: “Vagg, son. Nothing in the world smells like that. I love the smell of Vietnamese hookers in the morning.”

The real threat to America are these post-debate (NBC) interviewees making ridiculous claims like “Palin was a star” that “killed” by talking “directly to the people”. If Obama is a “rockstar celebrity” like Paris Hilton, and that was a bad thing two months ago, what does that make Palin? My guess is Heather Locklear, only it’ll be America she’s driving erratically while under the influence of power. What these douches fail to point out is that she answered five of the forty questions completely. That’s hot.

This blog is over. Doggonit. Say it ain’t so, Joe.

Debata-balls

Ladies and gentlemen, the debates are jack-off!

Basically, we have the same recipe cooking for this race that we had the last two times. Who will you vote for? The bleeding-heart smarty-pants or the no-nonsense, smoke and mirrors “everyman”?

In the Democrat corner: A nerdy guy spouting about what exactly is wrong and how he’s gonna clean it up. He’s got a plan, he’s got a record that he’s willing to list off in detail and he smells like delicious coconut butter.

In the Republican corner: Old man Friendly dropping names, giggling like WE do (read: like Bush Jr., little kids, hyenas), telling us stories about old war generals and throwing out broad facts that essentially slander his opponent through vagueness.

My bright spot? Jim Lehrer. He’s harder hitting than Matt Lauer jacked on crystal meth with Meredith Viera in the trunk and Tom Cruise in the passenger seat.

I looked into Putin’s eyes and saw three letters: O-P-P. And he said, “Yeah, you know me.”

I’m not a run-off-to-Canada kind of hater, but if I have to suffer four years of McCains “S” whistles stabbing my ear canals, I will be off this fucking continent in a heartbeat. It sounds like he’s firing tiny, gay flying saucers off his tongue.

I’m psyched about the VP debates. It’s like watching a junior varsity game; the plays are weaker, the crowd is smaller, the implications are nil, but you can still get to third base with freshmen under the bleachers.

I smattered again...

Racial misgivings may prevent some Democrats from voting for Uber-Negro candidate Barack Obama, according to a dumb fucking poll. More than a third of white Democrats and independents agreed with at least one negative adjective about blacks, including the sexy descriptors “lazy”, “violent” and “irresponsible”. In a related story, a golden retriever took over to nurture three tiger cubs that were abandoned by their mother at Safari Zoological Park in Caney, Kansas, last July. An update on the Today Show proved all was well with the cat/dog family. Uppity whites are denouncing the interspecies family, complaining that canines are “lazy”, “violent” and “irresponsible”, and are currently lobbying the government to come down harder on deadbeat tiger moms.

Speaking of tigers, do kids still read Tiger Beat? Can kids still read?

News dropped that the world's largest atom smasher has been damaged worse than previously thought and will be out of commission for at least two months. Considering the sorry state of small screen comedy these days, I can already see this moment in the made-for-TV movie: As the scientists open the large, steel hatch, enter a lanky, red-headed guy sporting inch-thick glasses and a half lisp/ half retarded speech impediment, holding a wrench and a magnet.

Nathaniel “Nate Dogg” Hale suffered his second stroke in less than a year. Apparently at one point he was on life support with a feeding tube. Not that you knew about the first stroke, but it became doubly noteworthy due to this quote. "He has suffered another stroke from his bad eating habits and unhealthy lifestyle," said Nate's rapping cousin, Donald "Lil' Half Dead" Smith. This would be why he wasn’t pictured embracing his wife on the cover of Vegan Monthly, above the quote “Regulate... Your Life”. No word on whether the cousins will be trading nicknames.

In a different, dumb fucking poll Americans would rather watch football with Obama than McCain, probably because McCain would nap through most of the game. I just want a president to run our government correctly for the first time in almost a decade. I don’t give a shit whether he mashes Doritos down his hole and pounds farts into his lazy boy between 1pm Saturday and 11pm Sunday night. I’ll gladly replenish the cans in his beer helmet if he can just get this country on track. As a side note, uppity whites plan to lobby the government to start coming down harder on stupid polls.

A second smattering...

As I sit in my apartment, waiting for Hurricane Hanna remnants to shower me with local debris and tip my building over, I can’t stop thinking about the horrible green screen behind Sen. John McCain showing Walter Reed Middle School instead of Walter Reed Army Medical Center. What moronic, GOP-wanking shit stain couldn’t quite negotiate the turns of his stupidity in time for his brilliant leader’s biggest moment? Probably the same Log Cabin Republican who designed the phallus-shaped stage.


Is it me or does it seem odd that Nascar has an official cracker? Apparently Ritz has the honor. I figured it was Dale Earnhardt Jr.


Remember when “tell-all” books shared secrets we’ve been dying to know? Anything revealed at this point about Bush’s administration requires more of a “tell-us-what-we-don’t-know” -type of tome. Madonna’s brother couldn’t have sold more tickets for her if he made a commercial instead. As for what has been in Barbara Walters’ vagina? One word: yuck. No offense to Barbara, but once you reach the legal age of Werther’s Originals distribution, folks will no longer find your fond memories of sexual exploits intriguing. Instead they will spend the rest of the day searching for their lost libidos and appetites.


I think love is exciting and magical. I also think green-tinted bowel movements after a Boo Berry and Purplesaurus Rex bender are exciting and magical. I have experienced both this year.


If girls develop faster than boys, why are we still subjected to poor adult female role models? Perhaps the grading curve ends in 7th grade. Either that or men own the cameras snapping their exploits. I have my personal feelings about how society has turned the desirable and worthy, power-wielding female species into attention seeking, insecure, foul mouthed bags of need, but that is for another blog.
My point is no matter how hard I partied I was never as ridiculous a spectacle as the tabloid queens of the televised world. Now, I’m not going to pretend for a minute I know what "life in a fish bowl" is like, but that is what makes it all the more disgusting. Take your reality-blurring vapidness away from the flashbulbs. Last thing I want is my niece growing up thinking these twats are even remotely noteworthy.
And has anyone noticed that no man in Hollywood ever gets smashed, technicolor yawns on a dumpster outside of Hyde, then falls ass-over-head into the backseat of an Excursion exposing his poorly hidden genitalia? I guess Americans won’t pay enough to see it.

Oh, George...

I can’t begin to reflect on the impact George Carlin has had on my world. From my cheering on the Football vs. Baseball routine to the countless idiosyncrasies that pissed both of us off, he has been one of the biggest influences of my comedy and my life.

His Lenny Bruce-influenced tongue brought a very blunt edge to a comic industry in need of a political hero. Whether you loved him or not, whether he upset you or sent you home quoting him, George Carlin changed the face of comedy as we know it. Many of the TV shows and comedians you love would never have found their feet had he not broken obscenity barriers that were long overdue for destruction.

In a time when I was confused about religion, George brought a refreshing, realistic perspective to the many faces of God. He was quick to point out social ills but never without an exciting solution that provided the world with balance and entertainment.

I miss George because he is one of the only heroes I have left in a world so afraid of what each other thinks. He sang to me truth and consequence, pain and reality. He pulled no punches, and because of that I never withheld love of him and his carnal observations.

To me, he will be remembered eternally as a father, a friend, a confidant, a drinking buddy and a God. One that has spoken more truth than any in history.

Allegory of the Naive

I don’t fancy my leaving TC as a momentous occasion but rather as a means to an end, an end I promised myself a long time ago and knew I needed to start now before comfort turned to fear, and then ultimately into a regrettable existence. Like The Allegory of the Cave with a happy ending.

We all have our reasons for leaving or staying. Although other’s opinions never really mattered much to me, nothing but hard booze could soothe the sting of someone awed by your talent asking “why are you still here” and prophesying how your gifts would be better appreciated somewhere else. On the thirtieth time hearing this you can already see the lines you’ll carve into your forearms. But one opinion made a difference when my friend Grace put it all into perspective for me. I expressed how proud I was of her picking up at eighteen and heading off to New York City to teach inner-city youths. I told her how brave it was and how I envied her. “But, Atticus,” she said, “I’m proud of you for staying in that town and doing the best you can. I believe it’s strong of you to stay there and make a life for yourself. That’s something I could never do.”

From this I calmed to a temporary satisfaction in life that helped me push to newer heights. Better jobs, better relationships, and a new holistic outlook on life followed. These simple words Grace put before me were a catalyst, but not in the way I thought. I know now that I was, and still am to some extent, looking for acceptance. This has been my modus operandi from the first time I ever stood on stage and felt the pure ringing of applause jolt me like a wave, filling my ears and heart with encouragement. Since then I’ve always yearned for more than friends and family. I wanted an audience.

But as my performing dwindled, the need for acceptance never did. It wasn’t like my mother and friends weren’t always there for me, reminding me how truly valuable I am, because they were and I will always treasure them for that. But the one thing I had never been told was that it’s okay to stay in TC and be happy, whether you are talented or not. It’s my decision. This wasn’t only in defense of my talent to random “well-wishers” but also an acceptance of who I was.

Again, this was temporary and the urges to leave grew even stronger. I needed to prove to myself that I can sustain happiness outside of the fish bowl. I needed to shed this life, take a new path and start over. But these weren’t the only demons clawing at my insides.

Whenever I saw someone in the newspaper with their new spouse or on Facebook, across the country with sparkles in their eyes and new people in their photos, I’d think about how they wake up and see a whole different world outside of their window. The smells and temperature completely different. When I knew them we saw the same mornings, knew the same people and felt the same sun. But now they feel a different side of the sun warm their face.

A couple years ago, my dear friend and former lover saw the obvious fire in my eyes. She knew dreams I pushed down so deep I couldn’t find, like my need to travel, to be alive in a big city with my bigger dreams. She suggested I visit my friend Jacob in New York and see the biggest city in America for myself. She though I’d catch the bug and pursue the burning she knew was in my soul. She always knew me better that I knew myself. She was smart enough to send me toward my dreams. She was strong enough to let go when I was pulling her down. She is an angel because she has been my biggest cheerleader of this new adventure.

I did catch the bug, but not until over a year later. There I was in pile of my own bullshit, trapped in the cell I created to keep me comfortable, in the town where I knew my way and people knew my name. I glued myself there with goals of mediocrity painted a dull shade of settling. When the women and the jobs were all consumed, I glued myself to a barstool with enough scotch to sedate a colt, letting youth run down the side of my cheek while guzzling every last drop, just in case this time it didn’t distort reality enough to not picture death at night. I was sick of seeing so many people with new lives and wondering why it wasn’t happening to me.

So, in only the way I know how, I made it happen.

Unlike The Allegory of the Cave, there are no urges to go back home. I have no intention of looking back. I want to be the one in pictures that people trapped in their town can look at and wish they were here with me in my mornings, seeing my new smiles. The sun may be too bright, but the longer it melts over my face and races down my neck the less I need the comfort of shade. For now, I am home. Granted I am partially intoxicated on the idea of love and new beginnings in the big city, much like Hollywood has glamorized it, but that’s alright. I’ve spent too long wrapped in practicality’s blanket. My dreams are returning and the colors are brighter than before. These are the means I’ve been waiting for.

A smattering of thoughts from the week...

Since when does a sleeve full of tattoos and gauged ears qualify you to work in a health food store? Organic salmon links do not a health nut make, nor does self-mutilation or dyed hair. However, I can’t help but grimace at the idea that a guy who looks like he set out to be a guitar god and failed miserably is now a connoisseur of organic cheeses and animal testing-free shampoo. Granted, this establishment is larger than any mom-and-pop general store, it seems more false than the labels let on. I realize everyone has their place and deserves fair employment, I just find it romantic how the socially-independent have gravitated toward the organic goods industry. Perhaps therein lies the newly mutated stigma associated with healthy living; not only do followers smell like patchouli and wear hemp clothing, they are also death metal bloggers with discount punch cards at Hot Topic. Color me old fashion, but I would have to imagine that this new factor could potentially hinder the future development of the Organic Movement, much how bored, middle class thrill-seekers fucked up the Hippy Movement.


Voting in America is like sticking your dick in a running blender and expecting a daiquiri when you’re finished.


I finally found a chill, Irish pub that sells good beer at a reasonable price. I’d write home about it but I don’t think JesusFuckYeah is an actual word.


I am still baffled at the argument of whether humans are a monogamous species or not. The question isn’t if you’d enjoy fucking everything in your path and then watching sports, douchey. (Although I am in no way an expert on animal behavior) It seems to me the idea behind monogamy is whether it is necessary for the continuation of the species. Yes, Komodo Dragons hangout in their territories and sex anyone who walks by, but that is because the female buries the eggs and hopes for the best. There isn’t a lot of parenting required; Hey, kid, don’t get eaten before your balls drop. But if you understand Penguins, they waste months making sure one little shit survives the ice storm. Human infants require exceptional care in order to be producing members of, not only our society, but of our ecosystem. In short, be a good baby-daddy or snip your already retarded sperm supply.


I’m beginning to think I push people away. That, or I placate things I find intolerable until they spill over into my daily conversations. Either way, I’m paving the trail to a lonely life with burning bridges and the idiosyncrasies that lit them.

Top Five Things I Miss About Michigan

Here are the top five things I miss about Michigan:


1. Liquor laws.
Here in Rhode Island, all liquor and beer sales are done at designated stores, not supermarkets or stop ‘n shops. Convenience stores are no longer convenient on account of their not being able to carry my drug of choice. Not only am I required to frequent these opiate dens in order to purchase my stash, but they can only legally sell to me until 10pm nightly, with nothing ado after 6pm on Sundays (if at all). To top this shit off, bars can only serve until 1pm Sun-Thur, and Friday and Saturday at their discretion.

Why, in these times of war and woe, have they reduced me to a common sot. Being one who would put themselves out in order to slug off the sweet teat of God in a vain effort to lull the demons, I find it nonetheless degrading to have to seek out these hidden bootleggers in order to receive my fix. In a city of Asian spas (read: $120 dollar shower, massage and BJ) and vibrant nightlife, no one should be subjected to such totalitarian oppression when merely wanting to taste the sweet juices of freedom.

2. Dunkin’ Donuts
I speak not of missing this particular franchise. Instead, I am bewildered at its presence. There is a DD within a two-minute drive from wherever you are. In fact, the premier event arena of the state is aptly name the Dunkin’ Donuts Center. My coworkers are virtually addicted. I have even found myself on two occasions to have left my house, en route to work, only to be sucked in by it’s comforting logo (orange and pink; the only good donuts) and promise of a coffee that isn’t the tar-pit taste of a Starbuck’s signature flavor: Satan Roast Medium Columbian Blend.

Although I am not staunchly opposed to their #5 bacon, egg and cheese bagel with coffee, I am disgusted by their tactless saturation. Give me my Round’s and Potter’s and I’ll live a full life.

3. Traffic
People here drive like they are twenty minutes late for a fucking abortion and they aren’t sure which lane to be in, plus riding your bumper like it’s the next best thing since Furby®.

When I’m driving the speed limit and talking on my phone, don’t ride my ass and make the pinky/thumb gesture at me as though I’m the reason you’re having a rough life. I’d drive better if I was watching the road and not checking to see if you’re in my goddamned trunk yet. Want advice? Leave one minute earlier tomorrow and I won’t be there.

Not that Michigan drivers are better, but at least I can handle the dilapidated Broughams and Sunday ten-under drivers with an ounce of patience.

4. Smoking
I’m a smoker. Fuck you for judging me. I am a person who requires a cigarette with my adult beverages, much like a fapper requires lotion with his adult movies. Is it so bad to have a smoking section in a building? What is the harm in smoking publicly that isn’t equal to a nonsmoker microwaving in plastic or dying textiles with 1-Amino-2, 4-dibromoanthraquinone? Exactly. In layman’s terms, daddy needs a smoke when he’s drinking “wake-up-with-the-mistake” juice.

Oh, and the over-seven dollars for my Parliaments can kiss my ass as well.

5. Friends

I miss you assholes. Of all the things that complete me, the last part I thought would be a factor was the development of my long-gestated relationship with the people and places that make up Traverse City. I miss the familiar faces, the pine-scented nights, even the faux-comfort that rides sidesaddle with small town living.

But nothing beats the soul-enriching value of the pure diversity that a large American city offers.

For all of you still arrested by your environment, spend one day with me here in the salty East. All it takes is one glance of the city-scape at dusk to remind you that there is a great purpose and that it exists somewhere outside of your peripherals. It took me finally walking away from the familiar to find what is truly beautiful in the unknown: possibility. And it is that possibility that will ultimately propel me into the future I have always yearned for.

Only Valentines Can Prevent Forest Fires

I don’t subscribe to the Valentine’s Day pestilence. The gifts, the flowers, the jewelry. It really is a bit much considering that it’s focused to one day of the year. For people in mundane or stagnant relationships, it’s pretty much the only twenty-four hours dedicated to supporting the relationship romantically; a chance to remember what it was like before we got used to each other. Before making each other happy was placed on the back burner of daily chores.

I understand the thrill of the holiday, though. Especially when I was in a relationship, February 14th gave way for us to let our gooey, lovey-dovey slime ooze all over one another. I’d plan something special and she could tell her friends about the next day. The better the gift meant the better I was compared to her friend’s lovers. Is it no wonder Valentine’s Day and the Westminster Dog Show are within days of each other?

Perhaps I’ll always be somewhat unimpressed with the Valentine’s Day spectacle, even as man who has loved and lost more times than he can count.

I have little need for a specific day to remind me to treat those I hold special in my life with kindness. It’s the same shit with Christmas; the movies about a Scrooge-esque character treating an impoverished person badly, and the woman saying, “Be nice, it’s Christmas”. Have we become so complacent about our poor treatment of each other that the expectation for good behavior has been relegated to holidays? It’s Christmas? How about, “Be nice, It’s Tuesday”?

Same goes for today. Don’t just gift or blow your special somebody because today is Valentines day. Actually, yes, do it today. But then don’t wait another 365 days to do it again. Do it monthly or biweekly, however often you feel your partner deserves. Doing something special for another is an expression of our love, kindness and gratitude. If it only occurs to you to do it once a year, perhaps your loved one deserves somebody who will care, and express it, more often.

On that note, have a smashing Valentine’s Day. Spend some money on cavities, blood diamonds and slaughtered rain forests. And if you think of it, do it all again next month.

Moving... on a Sunday afternoon...

When I remember back to the many people I have helped move in my lifetime, including multiple times for each individual, I realize that it has stayed with me as a joyful, albeit physically draining, time spent with friends and family. Now, when I look back on the last three days of my life, which involved moving one mother, one daughter, and more shit than I have ever owned in my life, not only will it not be remembered fondly but it has marred my ability to walk into a moving situation carefree and excited. From now on I’m arriving with a rider list a la The Rolling Stones.

As much as I’d like to say that there are rules and requirements when non-professionals move your household, they are really just considerations you make from the kindness of your heart. The average person realizes that a.) they are inconveniencing someone on their day off, b.) asking them to do physical labor for free, and c.) are subject to setbacks due to helper’s needs and personal life.

What happened this weekend (Sun.-Tues.) was both tragic and unforgivable. I’ll spare you the chronological path of landmines that has led to my tortured body and bruised feelings. Instead I am creating a small handbook on how to prepare to move without professional help. The Post Office should include this shit in the address change packet with all the coupons; a small, orange glossy sheet titled, “Don’t Fuck Your Friends Over: How to move cheaply and not burn bridges”.

Tip 1: Analyze the pending effort judiciously
How much stuff do you have? Although two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen and basement are average for most families, the amount of crap inhabiting them varies greatly.
How many people can do this safely and quickly? While factoring in the 250lb marble table, also include the other fifteen awkwardly-shaped items that weigh more than 175lbs.
What size truck will you need? How big is your new house? Do you really think it’s safe for people walk down a snowy, 45° hill carrying your fragile belongings? Etc.

Tip 2: Prepare the house to be moved
This one seems simple… in fact, all of these tips will seem simple, but that doesn’t make them automatic.
Pack your shit up before people arrive. Have everything in boxes, crates, totes, garbage bags, animal pelts, whatever. Take your wall hangings down. Secure doors and drawers with tape. The only items that should be free floating in the house are things you will take over by yourself – and make sure this stuff is out of the way of the movers.

Tip 3: Ask EVERYONE you know
Ever heard the phrase “Two hands are better than one”? Well, it sounds a lot sweeter than the tearing and twisting of the lower back as it succumbs to the weight of a coffee table that had no one on the other side. You never know who is available and what friends they may have that can help too. Make the call(s).

Tip 4: Be conscientious of your movers needs
Factored into the cost of the move should be food and beverage for your helping friends. Granted, the only people that actually work for food are immigrants, hookers and circus animals. But the idea isn’t just gratitude; it’s safety as well. It can be a simple as ordering a couple pizzas and sodas - it could be as extravagant as taking them all out to dinner that evening. But understand that, as they are sacrificing their bodies for your prized shoe collection, having water and snacks available is an absolute must.

Tip 5: Work as hard, if not harder, than your friends
This is your junk. It wasn’t going to move itself before they arrived. In fact, you would have had to carry all of it out the truck if you didn’t have any friends. Step up and be proactive about your future. Honor your friend’s effort by placing yourself in the same trenches they have so generously climbed into for you.

Tip 6: Spread thankfulness liberally
There is no worse feeling than being enslaved for three days to an ill-prepared, inconsiderate, unappreciative person. No matter how self-absorbed and entitled you feel, humble yourself and look into each person’s eyes, thanking them profusely for their time, effort and friendship. Anything less will bring the relationship to a conclusion.


When you ask someone, “Hey, can you help me move”, make sure that is really what you’re asking for. If you truly mean, “Hey, can you be responsible for organizing people to help me drag my half boxed-up shit to a place who’s only access is both ridiculous and deadly, all while I fuck around on the phone and slowly pack the rest of my things”, then you should say that instead.

Follow these simple tips and your move will go smoothly and be fun as well. Good luck!

Life After Tyranny: Fire, Brimstone and SEM

I was recently fired from an SEO startup for, what I can honestly say was, no particular reason. Perhaps it was personal, perhaps someone didn’t get their junk punched around by the missus that weekend. Nonetheless, I was given a smattering of excuses regarding an email that wasn’t copied to them and some unjustified garbage about a lacking in my professional development. Ironically, there were no charts or papers. No HR and no proof. Just a cold dismissal from two goons who never once attempted to earn the respect of the people beneath them, as they assumed it just came with the titles and offices.

Here is what I have learned from the few small companies I have been employed by. This most recent one, (names have been changed to protect the shameful) SuckUpWeb, will register most of my examples.

Small businesses hire folks who are good at what they do, but tend to lack that certain something that makes work-life normal. Corporations and their greedy administrators have been sued for years over issues as big as employee mistreatment to as little as a dirty joke. Small businesses, however, can pretty much have their way with you.

There are a myriad of business types and personalities that run them, but there seems a common thread of emotional pillaging and pride plundering which you can expect when entering employment with any small business.

First off, you have the owner. There were days I expected to pull into the parking lot and see a thirty foot granite statue of the owner placed discreetly around the side of the building. The base would read out, “Greatest Employer In The World and Most Giving To Her Community.” Chiseled somewhere in the back would be the names of her minions, who paid for its erection, beneath carvings of them feeding from one of her forty teats while being embarrassed by another public, hyper-aggressive berating.

If you have ever been subjected to an abusive boss or yelling owner, you understand that feeling in the pit of your conscience telling you, this is not the way the culture should be in a work place, especially one that boasts a supposed “relaxed” atmosphere.

You see, just because a company seems like good people doesn’t mean they are. No business should ever come off relaxed and fun-loving because business is not fun or relaxed. It is an obvious attempt to throw the curtain over a lunatic owner or undefined expectations. Smoke and mirrors in the form of a purchased, manufactured environment of “fun”. It reminds me of a former friend who routinely appeared to be a cultured, socially-conscious person, but spent more time telling young women about his traits than actually being them.

Then you have the Human Resources Dept person. In a small company, HR is more humorous than helpful. They sit in the owner’s pocket like a retard attack dog waiting to decimate anything deemed a threat, when in reality, they should be watching the employee’s backs. Only in a small company would the HR person spend lunches waxing politics with anyone who would listen and expressing personal feelings toward the topics. It is their job to pull the person who is doing that aside and ask them to stop. It would only be more backward if they had bad hygiene and swore a lot. Which segues to the last group.

If you walked into any corporate building in Chicago you would see men and women managers behaving well. Discussions in hushed, reverent tones; quiet frustrations held within; possessing access to infinite answers through booklets or websites. Not in a small business, though. These are managed by ethically-inept, egomaniacal, self-serving yes-men. Perhaps I am too good natured, but I don’t believe supervisors should be able to launch into a graphic, obscenity-laced tirade because they simply feel like venting. They shouldn’t be allowed to curse and harass any employee publicly, even one they consider a friend. And we should be able to collectively intervene with the most vainglorious of them, especially when they adopt stupid names for processes of the business and attempt to force them on everyone in the office just so they can tell everyone they had an impact on the industry. “Bigfooting” is not an SEM strategy.

Although small companies say they care, they are not diagrammed to care. A eight-year old business should not have more former employees than current employees. But when you have a group of people running it emotionally and not through tolerance, understanding or guidance, there will never be a time when you have all of the pieces to your puzzle. If there is no training model, nobody can learn correctly and will, therefore, be subject to punishment from not having met the undefined expectations.

The bottom line: A ping-pong table, a pinball game and a Chinese Food Day do not make a company “caring”. What is worse, they neglect the simple things necessary to creating a good office culture.

1. Be nice from the top down.

2. Create a training standard and define associated expectations.

3. Require modern interoffice standards and rules; let no one be immune

Michigan is an at-will employment state, meaning they can fire you if your nipples are crooked, and as long as they don’t verbalize it, they have no one to answer to. However, business ethics will often do you in before you grow too large to transcend popular law. Plus, the small town reputation can be more easily damaged by stupidity than it would in a large city.

To be clear, this only encompasses the top of the food chain. It’s the bottom employees that seem the most competent, have the least amount trouble communicating with each other and can find ways to accomplish tasks without the drama or glory.

~ ~ ~

I wanted to write a scathing blog, call a spade a spade and sink a ship with words, but that is not who I am. I am an honest, loyal, hard working person who will rise above adversity and persevere. I don’t need to know why I was dismissed because it changes nothing. I know that I gave my clients everything I had, and I will do the same in my next endeavor. But I also can not deny my anger, hoping that karma will be as merciless on them as it has been to me.

Update 1/26/08

Forget everything you've just read. Here is the Cease and Desist letter I received: Page 1, Page 2

Update 1/28/08

Don't forget everything, just the deletions I've made. Here is my response, including my compliance with their reasonable demands: Page 1, Page 2

Update 2/2/08

Changes have been made to the posted correspondence between myself and Mr. Phelps. In order for this blog to continue delivering its message regarding the hazards of small business employment, it must also maintain it's integrity. The purposeful vagueness of this piece holds an implied promise of avoiding the infliction of damages to any company, including those that are willingly to involve themselves. Out of the gentle kindness of my heart, free of influence, I have made a conscious decision to remove all persons and company names from the letters. Thank you for understanding. Enjoy the blog!

Update 2/6/08
Since I received no response from Mr. Phelps, I sent him a finally email to bring closure to the issue: Page 1