Lookit

Check out these pretty ass clouds.

Out for a few beers with the boys.

The beers are for me, by the way. I would never dream about wasting a full beer on a toddler. They never drink all of the beer and you have to finish it up with all their backwash in it.

Fuck This Shit

Check this shit out.

Why back in my day, we din' need no damn Jap pitchers ta put the fear of Gawd in ya! Was enough to know ya's goin ta hell if ya jus thought about masturbatin'! Yessiree!

Third Try Here

Well, I did have two tremendously stupid bumper stickers to post for you here, but I didn't take a picture of the one (Tolerance is for people who lack conviction) and I couldn't find a web picture large enough for the other (Friends don't let friends eat farmed fish! Support Alaska's wild fishermen), but I'll have more to say on those later.

In the meantime, look at this stupid shit that I found while googling the phrase: stupid bumper stickers.

I don't even know where to begin with this so I'll go back to the original impetus for this post, the "tolerance" bumper sticker. I was at the gym tonight and as I was leaving I saw this sticker, which I had seen before, and I got sick to my stomach. I mean, I was just in the same enclosed area with someone who, by virtue of this sticker, is saying, "All non-white, non-protestant, non-English speakers disrobe and wait in this line for the cham...I mean showers." Fuck. I'm not even asking for acceptance here but this is the equivalent of having a sticker that says, "Wannsee Was Right!"

It always angries up the blood to see this shit. It's kind of like every person I've ever met who was a self described anarchist. You know the type: skinny, pale, white, and when pressed on the issue, has no real justification for thinking the way they do and no real argument as to why you shouldn't beat their ass and take their jacket, shoes, wallet, car, bitch, whatever. I mean, an anarchist would understand that right? The kind of motherfucker who would be totally fucked in an anarchic situation because they're the first to be a) killed and robbed, or b) claimed by the largest male and made into prostitutes and then later killed and robbed.

The point is, stupid people who festoon their person, car, residence, with this kind of dog shit rely on the tolerance of others that don't haul off and torch their car, like me, and the laws of the government they claim to hate to protect themselves from others who would kill them, like me. Fucking idiots, all.

The second sticker "Farmed fish" is also equally stupid. I'm no ecologist, I don't know fuck all about fishing, and to be honest, I don't care. Supposing that this same principle of no farming was drafted onto other areas of production, it would be reasonable to assume that you could find stickers admonishing people to not eat farmed grain and to support local gatherers, or not consume farmed antibiotics and support local biochemists. It's fucking dumb. It's just another logical dead end that appeals to the jackasses up here whose whole life is fishing, have never heard of the commons, and oppose government limits to catches until the fisheries collapse and then complain that "the guvment" didn't do anything to protect us taxpayers. They took'r jobs!!!

As for the John Kerry thing, like I said, it still makes no sense.

In other news tonight, I officially became a Barack Obama supporter today after John Edwards endorsed the Senator from Illinois. The quick story on that is that I was a Hillary supporter after Edwards (my original choice) left the race before the primaries here, because I liked her health care plan better and, if elected, would probably piss off so many motherfucking conservatives that the death rate due to stroke and cardiac arrest would skyrocket in that demographic. Yeah, it is a mean spirited reason to support a candidate but I still like Hillary Clinton because she is driven by power. You have to fucking respect that. She basically ran on the platform that, "I'll do and say anything, just immortalize me by making me the first woman President in U.S. history."

Also, tonight was the first time I heard Sen. Obama speak. I had deliberately avoided hearing both candidates speak because I wanted any decision I made about them to be the rationed analysis of what their policies would be if elected and not, "Well, hell yeah! You heard him/her! His/Her impassioned rhetoric has swayed my dubious allegiance! Whoo!" I didn't want to fall into the trap of having emotions ruling what should be a rational decision about the person who is going to be ultimately responsible for the government of me and my family for at least the next four years. Anyway, after I heard Sen. Obama speak about the poor (me) and how his mother made sacrifices for a better life for him and how John Edward's family made sacrifices for him, my thoughts went something like this:

"Well, fuck yeah! You know what? Fuck those rich-ass people, gettin' a motherfuckin' tax break! Taking shit away from my kids? Hell no! Let's go drink some whiskey and then put a few bricks through windows and set some cars on fire and shit!"

So, there you have it.

nil

Yeah, that's right.

Post

This is what happens when a three year old is your bartender.

He demands that you pay him for his services by allowing him to sticker you up.

Mother's Day

Even on Mother's Day, ya'll got to work.

An overview of the table Felicia and I sat down to for the appetizers of the family's Mother's day celebration.

A close up of the platter that we made: Italian dry salami (thank you Jacqueline), Dubliner cheese, and Triscuits.

Hey, I want to talk to you today about something that is dear to my heart. I'm not talking about mothers, per se, but I am talking about something that they all have: Mom ass. I know that all the guys out there have seen this. Mom ass is the absolutely beautiful, pear-shaped ass that women get after birthing children. I'm not talking about all those super fat bitches you see, they have their own merits. I'm talking about the normal women that have normal kids and then go about their normal lives, with one difference: the gorgeous posterior that evolution has given them for their work of bearing children. I can't explain it, but all ya'll know you've seen it. In the grocery store, at the mall, the bank, substance abuse court, wherever, you know that as a male Homo sapiens you have recognized, and desired, the mom ass.

Mom ass rules. It let's you know that she is in it for the long haul and will probably rear your seed because, hell, she's done it before for some other asshole, she'll probably do it again too. That and it's totally fucking hot.

Lazy

I have to tell you that I have nothing today. I feel vindicated in that I posted two entries yesterday and, as such, don't feel the need to try so goddamn hard today. Here we go, just a list:

Wine, chicken and dumplings, and depressing movies all kick ass.

I think my wife is pretty cool, but, thinking this, I also think that she or I will end up dead soon. This will make either of us totally depressed, the reasons for this being many, not least of which is that we will have to be "single" again. That is fucking stupid, and exactly the reason that one of us will be dead; the universe is stupid, not in a meaningful way, but in an egoistical way.

I thought I might be having a heart attack today. Chest pains, shortness of breath, numbness of extremities, all brought about by the ingestion of copious amounts of alcohol. I really thought that this was the last go 'round. You know how I avoided the confirmation bias and disproved that shit? Yeah, I masturbated. Must not have been a heart attack, because the old ticker stood up to "la petite mort".

I love my children. I know that, in an evolutionary sense, you have to love them, but I think that they are also cool in their own right. I am not talking about the youngest one, he is still working on instinct alone, but the Bug keeps asking me to play with him and keeps looking out for his brother's safety. It makes me think that we are raising him, at least somewhat, correctly and that he is developing an empathy for other creatures.

Fuck all ya'll. Ya'll don't know shit about me.

Movies Fucking Rule

Fuck beans.

I remember once when my mother asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up and I answered that I wanted to be a hit man. I was young and she told me something to the effect that "you don't want to be a hit man, you have no idea what you are saying". I always thought that she never knew what I was talking about and she didn't appreciate the cold, detached, calculations that a hired killer must have in order to ply his trade.

I watched No Country For Old Men tonight, and watching Javier Bardem as Anton Chigurh, as he goes around and fucking destroys everyone, I stand by my previous statement. This guy was the most badass character I've seen in a movie since Taxi Driver, or maybe Kurtz in Apocalypse Now. I've always had mad respect for the guys who were principled and ruthless in their application of justice. The guys who are out in the filth and still cling to some kind of absolute value system have always piqued my interest. Call me wrong, and you will, but if I had a division of these men this war would be over in a year.

I'm Watching a Movie Here

So, I'm lazy, trying to watch No Country For Old Men, and thought this thing Gavin does is funny, if baffling.

Today Didn't Rule So Much

This was Gavin last night when he had to get in bed. This shit is a common occurrence at bedtime so I decided to take a picture of this to horrify all the non-child having couples out there that child-rearing is just as hellish as you were led to believe, and that you will be horribly inefficient at being a parent just like you think you will be. My advice: pour another drink and yell some more, eventually somebody passes the fuck out and forgets all this ever happened.



This is what Felicia had waiting for her when she got in the door tonight. Chicken salad, on toasted French bread with medium cheddar cheese, avocado, salt, pepper, and the rest of the sweet potato from last night. Notice the drink. That's my own Jamba Juice creation of raspberry sorbet, orange juice, strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, and blueberries. This shit was fucking delicious. I rule.



For dessert, we had fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. I don't want to hear ever again about anyone disliking being domestic and cleaning and cooking for their spouse, I don't give a fuck if you are a man or a woman. This shit rules. I would take what I had to do today, especially in light of the fact that I do it with two children under the age of three, over any bullshit that I would face at a job. Fuck a job, fuck those motherfuckers. At least all the hassle that I get in preparing this comes from people that I don't want to beat to death with a hammer after it's done. At least, I don't as long as they don't sass me.

Today Fucking Ruled

First off, I woke up too early but went back to sleep cradling Tiny and then woke up, ate some cereal, and went to the park. Pictures of that shit would have been boring so I didn't take any. Here's what happened the rest of the day.

We flew a kite. About 10 minutes in, this happened, of course, you know they should tell you the twine isn't attached to anything and that only an idiot would unwind the string all the way to the end.


We drew on the driveway. As you can see, Gavin loves mom and drew some flowers and also put down an indefinite integral and a derivative. What of it?

Speaking of flowers, these are some tulips I bought the other day. Flowers rule. In addition to being pretty and sometimes smelling good, they are always a helpful reminder of what women's genitalia look like.


Top all of that off with a super great meal that I made, complete with some Riesling for the chef, and the only thing that would make this day any better is my participation in one of the unlikely porn scenarios that I talked about earlier. But that shit isn't going to happen so, fuck it, I'm not greedy.

Back the fuck off my corn, bitch.

Stupid Shit

No, you are reading that correctly. I like these little keyhole views of the sea of stupidity that is the Mat-Su Valley. This one instance was so retarded I had to turn around to get a picture of it because if I just told you that some fucking idiot owned a barber shop and painted a sign with huge foot tall letters to hang outside his shop but instead of painting "barber", the fuckhead painted "baber" and then put the fucker up. I mean, come on, you'd think I was fucking with you. Alas, I am not. Better yet, I'm not even sure as to why it's still up. It's been there a week and either no one has told the guy, or someone has told the guy and he hasn't fixed it yet. Get with it, this sign is the only way I know about this place and the owners really think I'm going to go in and let these barely literate assholes wield sharp objects near my face and neck? Not a fucking chance, and especially not for $12.

This next entry is great as well. This truck has been parked where I have to see it every time I drive from Wasilla out to where I live. Since I was already taking pictures of stupid things I decided to swing by and get a picture. Now, stupidly large trucks are not foreign to me, but I really thought that it was the kind of thing that you would really only find in the south. In fact, the reason I first noticed this truck is because of the striking resemblance to one third of the vehicle of an inbred, two-foot tall, talking squid-man who lives in the north Georgia mountains. Check this shit out.

Where I Stay: Spring

So, I started this shit earlier and then realized that I had no pictures of spring on my camera. I remedied that shit, post haste. Check it out.








You probably can't see it but all these trees have buds on them. It's fucking beautiful.



This is the Springtime view from the top of the steps. Yeah, everything still looks brown from up here but you know that all the grasses are putting out new shoots.



Pioneer Peak. I like this mountain. It makes me feel insignificant, but in a good way.

In the spring a young man's fancy turns to love. At least, that's what I've heard, and judging by experience I'll say that's true, if by "fancy" you mean porn and "love" you mean addiction. I'll never forget the time I was caught with porno in my parents' house by my old man. The words he said are still with me today, "It ends up you just need more, and more, and more." By that, I took it to mean that you would need more and more freaky shit to blow your load, and with that in mind I have always tried to curb my porn viewing. That's not to say I haven't dallied on the edge of bukkake, fat chicks, throat pokers, etc. but now I know that straight up, guy/girl, consensual (to include highly unlikely fantasies, i.e. boss with employee and teacher/student) pornography is the way to go. To be honest, I can't get into all that other shit. Case in point, the gangbang. I once had a discussion with a friend about this genre and we came to the conclusion that, "Can you imagine how it smelled in there?" Enough said.

Word up. Pornography isn't the problem, uninvolved parenting is. Word is bond.

Catch Me on Your Brochures

Oh, I write about things, pretend I'm a critic. So, here goes:


This is the funniest shit I think I have ever read. If you don't know about this guy go to his website, The Best Page in the Universe, linked here and also featured on the right. I was laughing so hard while I read this today that it totally upset Felicia's watching of Pride and Prejudice. Seriously, I was like a hyena who had just smoked a shit-load of weed and was giggling my ass off.



I have no idea who this author is or what this book is about. I was sitting in Borders books, drinking an impossibly large coffee while Tiny slept and looking at the magazines when I decided that if I just read one extra book per month by someone who I had never read before starting with the A's, then I would end up reading a shitload of books. So, I picked this up because it seemed reasonably slim and not part of a series. We'll see if this is worth my while.



This guy fucking rocks. Aside from my addiction to alcohol, this author is one of the few good things I discovered while I was in the Marine Corps. I picked up one of his books while on duty one night in California and was immediately hooked. His first series of books that I read had everything: sex, 'splosions, spaceships, and a really weird take on what happens to your soul when you die and how loads of dead people can end up reincarnating living bodies and having some bad ass powers. Needless to say, it totally fucking rocked. Aside from Mr. Hamilton's last novel, which kind of ended abruptly especially after the tension he built up over the preceding 2000 pages, he has never disappointed. I am hoping he returns to form in this work, and even if he doesn't, I'll probably still buy all his future shit.


Alastair Reynolds and I have some shit to work out. I hate him, and yet, I feel compelled to buy his shit in the hopes that he will not continue disappointing me. I know, in some universe I am a card carrying masochist who begs to have hot wax dripped all over my genitals, and that would explain why I like doing this to myself. I can't put this guy down because his stuff doesn't suck, so much as the story he tells has characters that I loathe. Who the fuck cares about doing the "right" thing with respect to your fellow man when the entire goddamn species is facing extinction from a hyper-evolved genocide machine bent on eradicating human intelligence? You can't even get motherfuckers to not litter and you expect me to believe that a few hundred years in the future man will have evolved to where all the characters in his novel never do the self serving, base, egoist shit that is the hallmark of our species? Fucking dogshit, I say. Like I said, the guy is an excellent writer but he uses his talent to portray characters that I just want to fucking pile-drive.

These motherfuckers never disappoint. This is exactly the kind of brain fast food that I crave every so often. I started reading this about edition 8 or 9 and, except for edition 11, I am pretty faithful. Always good shit.


This is a painting by the surrealist, Rene Magritte. The title of this work is "The Psychologist" and I have to say, being an aspiring psychologist myself, Magritte's representation here is pretty accurate, in that I am constantly nude and holding flowers.

Hey Remember This?

Of fucking course you don't. I haven't done this shit in ages. School keeps me busy, but the semester is almost over so fuck it. I think I bombed my goddamn calculus test today. Fuck it. Let's see what we have here. Oh yeah, pictures where's the goddamn camera?

Two moose outside the in-laws house.

Kitty.

Try to study now, motherfucker!

Okay, what else has been going on. Kiernan started crawling. My Grandpa Joe turned 91. School is going okay. Oh yeah, the big shit is that I finally got shut of the old man's house in Mississippi. Fuck the money, I mean it's nice and all to buy some frivolous stuff, but I was glad to get that albacore from around my neck. Well fuck those images that are taking too long to load. Felicia had to go cut Gavin's hair.

We went to this wine tasting the other day. It was kind of depressing because the only other people there who were our age was a waitress. It's kind of funny, in a ha-ha I'll go hang myself now because I realize I'm still below the Mason-Dixon, that every time we have a family get together and Felicia and I are drinking a nice bottle of red and Felicia's brother says, "That's okay. Maybe put some Sprite in it." and he's only kind of joking. Either that or if someone offers him a glass he says, "I don't have a vagina." or something like that. He's kind of the archetypal man around these parts.

Hey, you know what I like? Squidbillies, motherfucker. Watch this.

New Shit

All of these guys kick ass.

Depending on my mood and workload for class, I usually find ways to waste time. I've been fucking around on Pandora lately and listening to some new (to me anyway) shit. So, I found all these guys: Pelican, Isis, and Red Sparowes.

Like I said before they all rule. I can't really explain why they do and Felicia, I'm pretty sure, hates all of them but she has no taste in music.

Let me fill you guys in on what is happening around here otherwise.

For some fucking reason, we got a cat. I was against it. I was totally against it, but sure enough, I ended up shelling out 50 bucks for the goddamn thing and thinking it was a pretty good deal because she was already de-clawed, spayed, microchipped, and up to date on immunizations. All for 50 dollars! What a steal right? Anyway, Gavin loves the thing and it is pretty cute.

Speaking of children, the other one is already trying to get up and crawl around, with limited success. It won't be long before he is all over the fucking place and getting in the litter box and shit.

I would have bought all these CDs I listed above, but I had to re-buy my Mastodon CDs because some fuck-face robbed our car. They stole a visor book full of CDs and a 12 pack of beer. What total assholes. I mean they didn't even steal the percocet we had in the door. Fucking amateurs.

I am also hosed because I got a fucking B on my goddamn calculus test because I basically threw away 10 points. I am so fucking enraged by that. It's total fucking dogshit. Everyone knows that the indefinite integral of 1/(x+4) equals the natural log of the absolute value of (x+4) plus some constant. Why in the fuck do I have to show work on that to get points? Oh yeah, the show work part was in the instructions. Damn.

Valentine's Day

Not St. Valentine, but still pretty cool.

So, this painting here is of St. Sebastian. I used to know why it was he was tied up and shot full of arrows but I have forgotten. The point is that whenever I think of Valentine's Day and Cupid and all that shit this is the image that comes to mind. Maybe it's the loincloth and the arrows but this is what I think of when I hear "valentine".

I remember when I was kid and for Valentine's day we were allowed to make valentines for the other kids, I think I was maybe in first grade. Well, I got this box of valentines cards, the shitty ones. I don't know if they still make them like that because it seems like VD (haha not that VD) has gotten out of hand. Anyway, they were shitty little cards that were in envelopes and I remember that I was adamant about writing on the goddamn envelope and I didn't want my parents to help me. Of course, I wrote "form" instead of "from" on every fucking envelope and was really upset about it. I mean like crying and shit and asking the old man to go get some more so all the kids wouldn't know I fucked all these cards up.

I hate this holiday but I don't want to be one of these motherfuckers who beats up on VD. It's just too goddamn easy. It's like shaking babies.