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Monday, March 24, 2014

The Gay Gestapo














     Let me start by saying, I don't care about gay marriage or marriage "equality" or what ever the hell people want to call it these days.  For the most part neither do most Americans. Most Americans, like myself, just don't want their lifestyle shoved down our collective throats constantly and then a lecture about what a bunch of bigoted assholes we are when, God forbid, we ask for a break. It's the "gay Nazis" at the Universities, in Hollywood and Cooperate America that can leave no area of American life untouched by their "gay rights" proselytizing, that are starting to piss me off. Can any facet of American life be left untouched by the "Gay Gestapo?" First it was the St. Paddy's Day Parade, then the military, then sitcoms, then schools, then the NFL and finally back to the St. Paddy's Day Parade again. That's it! Marry who ever the hell you want, just leave the rest of us alone.


Stop enjoying your parade, you hate filled bastards!





     A hand full of corporations decided they were going to pull their usual sponsorship from this year's, New York city Saint Patrick's Day parade. Not because gays were excluded from walking in the parade, mind you, but because they were being treated like everybody else.  The parade committee just asked that they not carry signs that advertise their sexuality. What a concept? I'm fairly certain that no other group marching in the parade was advertising their sexuality.  I'm yet to see the picture of the A.O.H. marching with a sign that says 'we bang chicks' or the Emerald Society  riding a float of a hetero-sexual couple in full coitus.  And that's the problem with the "Gay Gestapo." Walking in the parade just like everyone else isn't good enough. No.. they need to shit all over a 100 year old tradition and turn it in to a fucking Ricky Martin concert. Bottom line is, no one cares what your sexual preference is. Just wear green, walk the damn parade route, get retarded drunk and have a good time. It's hard enough explaining to your kids why adults are pissing in the street. People sure as hell don't feel like explaining why a ripped, shirtless St. Patrick is making out with a midget in a Leprechaun outfit.

     The Gay "SS" would have you believe all they want is marriage equality.  Marriage "equality" is one the greatest intentional misnomers ever propagated. Anybody can get married. You just can't marry whoever the hell you want. The "Gay Gestapo" wants to change the rules. Control the language, control the argument.  Example: Gay Gestapo: 'are you for marriage equality?' Normal human being: 'na, I believe marriage is between a man and a women.'  Gay Gestapo: 'then you don't believe gays are entitled to the same rights as everyone else, you bigoted Fascist!?'  Argument over. But "equality", you see, is not their goal.  If it were, why doesn't anyone argue for the creation of a new institution called garriage, where people have the same legal recognition and protection as a normal marriage, however, with a union of same sex people. Answer... because gay marriage isn't about creating a new game, it's about changing the old game for everyone else. You can bring a football to a golf course and play ball if you want. However, what you're playing is never going to be golf unless you change the rules of the game. And that my friends is exactly the goal of the "Gay Gestapo."
Say Vaaaaat?

     The most militant arm of the "Gay Gestapo" is the homophobic police.  They're everywhere, they're relentless and they strike when you least expect it.  There are a lot of things that can't be uttered in polite society anymore and most for good reason. Nonetheless, few things short of the "N" word will get a person in more trouble than uttering a homophobic slur. The homophobic police can't throw you in jail, but they can sure as hell make your life miserable. Just ask Alec Baldwin. People have lost their jobs, homes and had their whole lives destroyed because someone at the office overheard them say gay marriage was wrong.  And good luck firing an open homosexual no matter how incompetent they are. Our new protected class (every one that's not a straight, white, male. Your welcomed for the civilization you ungrateful bastards) sure is protected. I don't want to live in a world where an off color joke about gay guys in a hot tub can land you in the unemployment line. 


     Look.. I don't care who marries who or who marches in what parade. But I do care about the "Gay Gestapos" relentless push and incessant whining from their moral soapbox at every perceived slight or injustice.  Just give us all a break and let us have our damn parade in peace. And Guinness you can go fuck yourself.

Monday, March 17, 2014

Screw March Madness


I'm a deranged, smacked-ass, baby!

     It's mid-March again and time for the annual marathon that is NCAA basketball tournament.  Once again we will be picking our brackets, cheering for some over-privilege 20 year old to make a damn free throw and listening to Dickie V. scream like a deranged town crier about how we're watching the greatest spectacle in sports.  I, for one, am over the NCAA tournament. This, however, will not inoculate me from the extravaganza. No, I too will play multiple pools, get pissed off when nobody can make an open jump shot and get sucked into the round the clock, slobbering love affair, media coverage. 




Your bracket is screwed buddy!


       We all love a good "Cinderella" story, but should we? Here's the problem with "Cinderella"  teams. Sure it's fun to root for the underdogs, but when they win the pool of good teams is diluted and so are the chances of seeing the best match-ups.  Shouldn't we want the good teams to win so we can watch better games?  Eventually, the "Cinderella's" luck runs out and we have to watch them get rolled by a real team in the "elite 8" by 30 points.  I guess the worst part about the upset teams winning is that you have to listen to that jackass at work tell you about how he knew Hampton was due for a run, even though he can't even tell you what State it's in.  The real problem with "Cinderella's" is that it's only fun to cheer for them if you're watching the right game and I, of course, never am.

  The greatest prognosticator in basketball history.


        The odds of picking a perfect bracket are roughly a million to one. Despite that halfwits everywhere (myself included) will pick pools in the office tournament.  When we turn that thing in we know we are really nailed it.  We are so confident in our infinite wisdom, based on the careful analysis we no doubt used, that we'll also play another pool with our "upsets" in it. You know just in case the team we picked to go to the "Final Four" that we haven't see play once all year, because their on the West Coast and we just can't stay up that late, isn't up to the task of taking out a powerhouse like Middle-Tennessee State. The rule of thumb is, the more time you spend pouring over your bracket and checking the R.P.I., the less chance you have of actually picking a winner. That's why everyone is enraged when at the end of the day a women from the office that doesn't know jack shit about basketball wins, but no one is surprised.  

    
     Inevitably, during the endless stream of coverage, one of the analyst's will bring up the T.V. ratings and the ludicrous amount of money the NCAA banks during the tournament's run. This discussion is almost always followed by the "we need to pay the players" bullshit argument propagated by some ex-hoopster.  First of all, why should we give a rat's ass how much money the NCAA is making? Secondly, why should anyone feel the least bit sorry for the most over-privileged students (if you can call them that) on a college campus. Why, because between basket weaving 101 and banging cheerleaders they have to go to practice?   Clearly, the people making these arguments are not crushed by the financial burden of student loans.  Furthermore, no one is forcing these young men to play college basketball. If it's that difficult being a beloved college athlete, then go through the "regular" application process like the rest of us. Having a hard time getting by on the stipends given to athletes? Quit playing and get a job at Wal-Mart.  Don't complain to the 98% of us who would give our right arm to be blessed with your unearned, God given ability.  If you fail to appreciate the six figure blessing, that is a college scholarship, you got for being able to dunk a fucking basketball, than you're not smart enough to be in possession of a college degree anyway.

 
Going to Harvard to beat up some smart kids. In Southie accent


   Despite all the annoyances that go alone with the NCAA tournament, I''ll be watching anyway and so will you.  Good luck, I hope Harvard bust your bracket of the first day.  They got me last year, those brainy pricks. 

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Every One's a Pussy

Manliness Personified
    
      
     How do you know a man's, man when you see him? Answer, these days it's impossible.  At one time pop-culture was littered with awesome examples of badass manliness.  The kind of guys that would inspire you to say, "damn I wish I had balls like that!"  Now acting as if "you had balls like that" will at best, label you a chauvinist asshole and at worst land you a sexual harassment suit for oppressing some shrieking violet.  Life was a hell of a lot more fun before all of our tough guys got castrated.  You know why no one ever told Rowdy Roddy Piper he had to go to sensitivity training?  Because he would have lifted his kilt, bitch slapped them with his giant nutsack and had a threesome with their wife and sister.  I'm sure there are still guys out there like that, but they're all in hiding. Unfortunately, modern society has no room for openly "manly" guys and that's why every one's a pussy.





Tell me how you felt inside when they hacked off your finger.
       Professional athletes used to be the pinnacle of all things manly. Regular guys should envy Pro Athletes. Who doesn't want to be built like a Greek god, perform superhuman feats, use the hottest women in the world's asses for pillows, all while making millions of dollars?  Hell, even special teamers are knocking off playmates.  I'm looking at you Hank Basket.  These guys check off almost every box on the manliness list.  The stories of many pro athlete's toughness used to be the stuff of legend.  Ronnie Lott once told a team trainer to cut his fucking finger off, so he could play in a regular season game! Meanwhile Carey Williams sat out training camp to pick sconces for his new house. Now we have to hear about all of their hard luck stories growing up in the special segments on Sportscenter, concluding with the guys we used to idolize bawling like they're on Dr. Drew's couch. No reporters ever asked Dr. J to unpack his feelings over the loss of his mother because he would strangled the shit out of them like they were Larry Bird.

     Cartoon villains were always bumbling buffoons.  They were however serious men.  Wile e Coyote attempted experiments that would make Josef Mengele say, "that's fucked up!"  Now even cartoon bad guys are pussies.  I watched the original Peter Pan the other day. Captain Hook was actually trying to kill Peter Pan and his boys.  Now he and Peter Pan work together to try to over come obstacles and get gold doubloons or something. They're standing right next to each other in every episode for Christ's sake.  The old Captain Hook would have just shot him in the face and sold  the Neverland Boys to a child slavery ring. Furthermore, when did Tom and Jerry go to couples therapy? They're actually friends now. I remember an old episode in which Jerry shot Tom's keister off with a double barrel shot gun. Now, how are kids supposed to learn about the dangers of firearms? I never thought I'd see the day when Elmer Fudd broke bread with Bugs Bunny, but here we are.

    

So you want to fire a giant rocket up his ass? Sick...


      Then there's the Rock Starr.  Axl Rose would belt out Paradise City, start a fist fight with Slash, then dropkick a female fan in the front row and all before the first act ended. Now I have to listen to Chis Martin 's high pitch squealing as he waxes on about some girl that broke his heart in high school because he wore glasses or some shit. Followed by Adam Levine whining because his parents got a divorce.  These guys aren't manly or tough anymore and they certainly aren't real rock stars.  I want my rock stars trashing hotel rooms, punching photographers and doing things the would land a normal person in prison. Rock stars shouldn't be pinning on about the necessity of "going green" and explaining how bullying is hurtful.  I would have given my right arm to hang around with Bret Micheals.  I'm not sure I would even want to be in the same room with the preachy blowhards, that flail around in skinny jeans and sing songs about how hard their life was because they lost their cellphone charger in tenth grade. What a bunch of pussies.

 
Even we think Maroon 5 are pussies.




Outside of the crew of the Northwestern or the cast of the Ultimate Fighter good luck finding some pop-culture though guys.  Unfortunately, the feminization of our culture is almost complete (subject for a future post) and it's only going to get worse. No good news here.




                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   





    

Friday, March 7, 2014

That's a Disease?

I did nothing to deserve this horrible disease.
     Classifying everything as a disorder or a disease is another way of saying nothing is anyone's fault.  What this does is essentially make a person who has made a series of horrible life choices a victim of forces beyond their control.  Thus taking away that person's power to change. I'm willing to concede that some people are genetically pre-disposed to weight gain or drug and alcohol dependency.  True, but that just means those people need to be more aware of the potential pit falls of a Whopper or smoking crack. Addictions are terrible and ruin lives. However they are choices and utterly preventable. Cancer is a real disease, agoraphobia is a disorder the following non-sense below is not.



Awww! Night time was due!!!!!
   If you took the Broncos to cover the spread for $500 in this year's Super bowl and you only had $50 to your name, not only are you an hand-job you may have pathological gambling disorder.  When you find yourself betting both sides of the same game so only one bookie kicks your ass, you got a problem alright.  Its' called mental retardation. There is no amount of pills or therapy that's going to keep a moron from betting against the sunrise because he got great odds and thought nighttime was due. Lying and stealing from your family to pay off Teddy K.G.B. before Grama fucks your shit up ain't a symptom of disorder.  It just means your an asshole.
 

    I'll be the first to admit super fit people piss me off. No, I'm not joining your crossfit group and I don't give a fuck how much gluten is in a muffin.  Nonetheless, those annoying pricks work hard.  They chose to get up at ungodly hours eat like cave men and do ridiculous shit.  That's what it boils down to... choice.  Have a psychotic aversion to physical exertion? Like brushing your teeth with a frosty and gargling with bacon grease? Do you have to bathe outside of your own fucking bath tub?  No, your not a disgusting human being and its' not your fault, you may have obesity disorder (government classification pending).  You know what's hard? Following a diet and getting regular exercise.  You know what's easy? Watching Maury, free basing Papa John's, sitting on your ample ass while collecting a disability check.

Why wouldn't an accountant need to achieve this level of fitness?
                                         

     Drug and/or alcohol dependence is every bit the choice overeating and betting on the weather are.  We all know addicts, and I genuinely feel for some of them. However, God did not smite you with some terrible affliction like an addiction disease because he doesn't like your hair cut. If he really hated you, you would have been born in Uganda.  You didn't wake up this morning with that bottle of Wild Turkey in your hand or that syringe in your arm.  You chose to pick them and if you work your ass off you can choose to put them down too.  It's a long road from smoking pot at a high school kegger to blowing Swifty in the sub-way bathroom for "smack." And guess what? It's gonna be along way back.

                                                    Anybody in here addicted to blow?




       Bottom line is, classifying asinine lifestyle choices as diseases or disorders is only going to produce more ludicrous classifications.  There's big money and legal protection in being a victim.  You'll find that out when they open a government methadone clinic across the street from your kids' daycare.  At any rate, if shitty decision making is a disease, I hope its' not contagious.  And if it is I apologize to anyone I had contact with from 1995-2006.

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Get a Lawyer Northeast Philly

Convergence of the space-time continuum

       The other day a friend and I were pondering why two guys as smart, handsome and talented as we undoubtedly are, aren't living in mansions, driving nice cars and snorting caviar off a supermodel's ass.  This presented a real conundrum, since none of this could've possibly be our fault.  We went through a litany of possible culprits before reaching our eureka moment. Little league coaches, teachers, alcohol,  T.V. shows, contaminated drinking water, were all floated as possibilities.  None of these entities alone, we hypothesized, could possibly explain the totality of our life-long under achieving.  During the course of our lengthy discussion we had come to realize that we are products of our environment. The schools, the bars, the non-existent social connections all the evidence points towards you Northeast Philly!  That's why we wish be compensated for all of the things we never figured out growing up. Therefore, we are filing a class action suit on behalf of all aggrieved Northeast Philly products in attempt to salvage some semblance of a normal life.

     The schooling in Northeast Philly was manifestly sub-par.  Now mind you, I'm not talking about the actually academic facet of education.  That part was fine, it was the social development that was lacking in Northeast Philly schools.  When I'm describing schools, I mean the Catholic schools.  The only people who attended public schools were bussed in or kids from the neighborhood whose parents didn't love them. Nobody built your self esteem. Most of the people who staffed the schools we attended were around since the sixties and didn't give a rat's ass what you thought about anything. Who knows? If one of those old curmudgeons would have told me I could be anything other than a ditch digger or an inmate, I could have been the "drunken asshole" character on a reality show. 
Could have been me


     Perhaps my biggest issues with  the schools were that we never learned to properly socialize,  especially with the opposite sex.  This, no doubt, has marred any healthy relationship we may have otherwise had.  Outside of those uppity first track, shitbags, how many people do you know from the Northeast in a healthy relationship?  F.Y.I. joining a dart league so you can escape your family and get blackout drunk on a week night ain't healthy.  The problem starts in grade school, where every interaction you have with the opposite sex is either discouraged or closely monitored by psychotic nuns that long to do nothing more than kick you in the jibbers should your eyes gaze anywhere in the forbidden zones. Then there's the single gender high schools.  What did you learn there? How to break balls and fart during momentary silence without shitting yourself? Very valuable skills indeed.   It's a pretty safe bet that the guy at a party that smell like ass, makes fun of girls until they cry before trying to leave with them, went to Father Judge or North Catholic.

     Then there were the gyms of the Northeast. How were we supposed to be healthy when the guys we looked up to were built like professional wrestlers?  Now people do cross fit, tough mudders and triathlons.  You couldn't get prepared for that kind of venture in an old school Northeast Philly gym.  The cardio equipment was just for show and if you accidently stepped on a treadmill everyone just assumed you were gay. We wanted to be mass monsters. We were developing the Northeast bar build favored by roofers and road crews.  You saw it every time you handed your fake I.D. to the guy at the door of the Sheffield Tavern; big arms, big chest, skinny legs and a beer gut. Think Hacksaw Jim Dugan. Had I known I was going to get bitch tits, I just would have taken steroids.   We really thought chicks liked this look.

There's some Hooooooooooooos in this house!
 
 
     Nowhere did you get a more false sense of what's acceptable than a Northeast bar. I wish some one told me the rest of society didn't drink for seven hours, use fuck as an adjective and a verb in the same sentence and act like an obnoxious asshole four days a week. Also it would have saved me a mountain of grief had someone just explained that it's not cool to defecate in the women's bathroom when the men's is full. Crazy thing, you don't have to drink like it's your bachelor party every time you walk in a bar (that gem will help you at professional lunches.)   Finally, I had to learn the hard way that women don't like it when you wait till 1:50 a.m. to try to talk to them, while slobbering all over yourself. 
 
     That's it in a nutshell.  If your from the Northeast and wish to join our class action lawsuit let me know in the comments section below.  Not sure if you qualify, than your not from Northeast Philly.