Showing posts with label random. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Urban Dictionary





I'm sure that most of you are familiar with Urbandictionary.com, a site which tells you exactly what those crazy phrases the kids are using mean. Which is all well and good, or at least was, until the site became a haven for people to just put anything on there. A friend of mine mentions that she was about to name something a "singapore sling" (she names these things for work), but upon looking it up on Googs to see if anybody had ever used the name, saw that it was on Urban Dictionary and meant banging a Thai hooker and finding out that it's a dude.

Comethefuckon, man.

So, whatever, Urban Dictionary. If you want to do stuff like that, I'm going to come up with my own things to add.


THE HUCKLEBERRY FINN - When you jizz into your own mouth and wash it down with grape Fanta.

THE CHROME DRAGON - Urinating all over your mousepad while purchasing wheel-cleaner online at Target.com.

THE SUEZ CANAL - Performed by inserting a classical violin into an Egyptian chick's vagina. In D major.

THE PORKCHOP DINNER - Shave all of your pubes with a Gillette razor and empty them into a used Altoids tin. Then use one of those little car fans to blow them all over some fat chick's face while she covers a U2 song on Guitar Hero.

THE WESTERN UNION - Mail yourself a model train set from a mailbox close to your house. Then stick a miniature Eiffel Tower replica up your ass until it bleeds. Allow the blood to fall into a graduated cylinder from the local high school science lab. If you can fill it up past 50 milliliters, you win. If not, set up the model train and tape your penis to the tracks (females can just sit on the tracks). Run the train on the highest available speed setting. Do this while wearing a Willis McGahee Buffalo Bills jersey.

THE MALAYSIAN FALCON - Put some Lupe Fiasco into your MP3 and wear some Koss-brand head phones. Proceed to circumcise yourself with opposite-handed scissors and see how many maple leaves you can collect and carry with the foreskin. The record in Saskatchewan is 3.6 ounces.

THE ICELAND LITERACY TEST - Park your late model Ford Taurus behind the neighborhood Barnes and Noble. Purchase a book from the Goosebumps series. Return to your car. Read the first couple of pages aloud while a hooker you picked up off of Craigslist flosses with your chest hair. Then pull her tampon out and use it as a bookmark.




So, there you go Urban Dictionary. Better add those to the list.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Hoes in Different Area Codes





LUDA! I love how the sideburns look like dripping skeetshots. Well-played. I'm guessing he got it done at a salon called "Nappy Hour".

Anyways, this isn't a hair-critique blog. It's a blog about hoes and hymens and raping waitresses and getting cockwhipped and Pierre McGuire and rap lyrics and sporting satire and anything but hair. And this entry will focus on the hoes. Specifically, how Ludacris has them in different area codes.

Well, I travel a lot for work. Maybe not "a lot", but a good 8 times a year. And I've realized...not only do I have hoes in different area codes, it's actually easier to have hoes in different area codes. It's so much more difficult to maintain hoes in your own current area code than it is to have them in other ones. Hear a player out. A ho in your area code is going to eventually want more from you and your cock or decide she wants nothing to do with you. And your cock. Yeah. But a ho in another area code knows for a fact that you and your penis are just flying in and leaving. She doesn't take it as a slight when your cock leaves. I mean, you live far away. You were just in for a few days. Doesn't speak to her at all about her worthiness as a wife or whatever you wenches think about. But local hoes...they want to be loved. They don't want to be used and left. Every single local girl I have inevitably gets fed up with just being the target of my jizzshots without fail. But the girls in different area codes? They just want to use my wang as much as I just want to use it on them. It works perfectly. Seamless. No drama at all.

So you know what, Ludacris? I'm on to you. Having hoes in different area codes doesn't make you a pimp. It just makes you a reasonable person with a penchant for flying. So in the meantime, I'm gonna go fuck some chick in Iowa.

I need some tats




I mean I'm as gangster as most, but come on. I can't compete with that. I need some tats!

What the f was Lil' Wayne thinking? That's just...I have no words for it. Gonna look great when he's 50. And what do the groupies think when he's hitting it? Is it like fucking a Microsoft Word document?

I gotta get some ink. Maybe a horse galloping across my back with a dude carrying a banner with some statement about life, like "IN SOVIET RUSSIA, BOX OF CHOCOLATES IS LIKE LIFE!".

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Gyms




Ok, so the Meathead Challenge has not been going so well as I am struggling to even get up to 275 consistently in the ol' bench press department, let alone coming close to 315. Soooo, f that. I'll still be hitting the gym on the reg, but the challenge is over because I'm going to do a cycle of the juice. Yep. The roids. Just for the hell of it. Should be fun!

Anyway, the LA Fitness seems to contain a large amount of a breed of people that you don't usually see in such large packs in real life...it's almost like a zoo of sorts. But even in the zoo, some of the animals do not abandon their natural instincts.

Like the dudes who do their workouts with their hair fully gelled and slicked back, like Gordon fucking Gekko or something. Yo, dude, could you spot me? And then maybe take a quick look at my stock portfolio? What the hell is wrong with these people? I just can't see how a regular person can decide, you know, it's time to go do some lat pull-downs. Shirt? Check. Sweet tank, dude! Sweatpants? Fuck yeah! Oh...gotta slick back the hair! Lookin' good, Vito! NOW LET'S GET ON THAT ROW MACHINE!

I also saw a chick working it out with a 20 ounce bottle of Coke. The liquid version, that is. Just felt the need to qualify that after the previous description. Now, if I did that, I would be sick as hell and feeling like the I had the bends after being pulled up out of 10,000 feet of water or something. But somehow this lady just kept doing leg curls between sips of fucking Coke. I really, really hope for her sake that she's diabetic. Well, I mean, I don't actually hope that she's diabetic, but...you know what I mean. Fucker.

Another thing I can't stand are the people who lift in freaking metal clasp watches. Take your watch off, dickhead! You aren't at work. A $400 Citizen watch does not go well with a Nike Dri-Fit cut off t-shirt. It just doesn't. It would be like wearing a Scottish kilt with mandals. Such a faux pas. Is it douche-thirty yet?

And some of these girls in here are definitely part of the all-you-can-rape buffet. I really just want to dress up like RuPaul and sit around in the women's locker room for an hour or two. But some of these bitches need to fucking eat NOW. If I run into one of them at a bar, I'm not going to buy them a drink. I'm going to buy them a sandwich. Hey bartender...how about a BLT for the young lady over there? She'd probably eat it will immediately doing a set of lunges. I'm afraid that if I spike one of these girls' drinks and bring her back home that I might break her. And then I'd feel too bad about it to deny anything when she came to.

I'm also intrigued by the attire of some of these ladies. Most of the dudes just wear normal shirts and shorts/pant to workout. But no, not these women. Some fuckbortion of black and neon, inevitably. And straps and holes and fucking clasps and what the hell is wrong with you bitches? Is there an American Gladiators store near by? Should I just call you Electra?

Most of the ladies there seem to be easily offended. No, random woman, I was not serious when I said after doing some sets on an ab machine that "this is what an abortion must feel like". Maybe if you'd stop getting pregnant you'd be able to take jokes better. Me and the easily offended do not coexist well.

There is, however, one dude who seriously rapes the decency of gym attire right in it's unwilling mouth. This little Spanish dude is always wearing the SAME FUCKING short-ass shorts that barely go to the top of his legs. SAME PAIR! And he's there like, every freaking day. Pretty much the same shirt, too. Maybe he rotates between two or three. Regardless, I want to buy him some shorts. Does he do laundry every day after he gets home? Or does he just not care about wearing what must be by now the dirtiest clothes in the entire state of South Florida (yes, it is its own state)? There are a few who wear similar attire, but none anywhere near this frequently. God, dude...you are the Meat Gayzer.

So f all of that, I'm starting my cycle and forming MUSCLE CLUB. All members must wear their MUSCLE CLUB AHHHHHH! shirts to the gym on ALL OCCASIONS! No exceptions will be made. Repeat violations will result in your dismissal from Muscle Club.

You have been warned.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Airport hot




Yeah, I done been slackin' on this website, and yinz can suck it. This was meant to go up YEARS ago (ok, last Friday).

On my trip to and from San Diego, and ESPECIALLY in my stop in Houston, I can't help but notice how....well, unattractive people in airports are. While unsuccessfully trying to set up a pre-trip J from a familiar female acquaintance, I was told that maybe I should try my luck with a cougar at the airport. Well, you know what? There really weren't many chicks at the airport that I would even allow to blow me in a janitorial closet, even if they came up to me and asked nicely.

"Hey, Vern, can I please put your penis in my mouth?"

Uhhh...uhh, well....uhh...sorry, I've got to board! Maybe next time.

AND I WOULD ALMOST NEVER TURN DOWN A FREE-J. So this is saying something.

Any chick in an airport with full control of her motor functions is pretty much "airport hot". And it's even worse at the convention I was at...which dealt with an industrial field. Convention hot? Pretty much anyone with a vagina. I've never been to prison, but I can't imagine the selection being too much worse there.

So where are all of you women that I talk to (or, at the very least, make eye contact with) in the rest of the world? DON'T YOU EVER FLY?!?!?! I swear I'll buy you a plane ticket if you just sit next to me on the plane...and jack me off underneath the blanket the stewardess gave me.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Disparaging the weatherman





I always wonder why people say stuff like, "oh, they only predicted a 30% chance of rain and it's raining!" and "ha! They said it was gonna be 94 degrees and it's only 89!". "The weatherman said it's gonna rain, so you know what that means!".

Yes...it probably means that IT'S GOING TO RAIN. A 30% chance of rain means that it might rain. A 70% chance of it raining means it might not rain. You know, the guy is TELLING YOU WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN IN 4 DAYS. He might be a little bit off. The rain might miss you by 40 miles. Holy hell people, is that not close enough? The guy just told you within a few hours and miles where clouds that were in Oklahoma 3 days ago were going to be at today in Georgia.

You know, back in 1889, you didn't have that luxury. If it was going to be unseasonably warm on your wagon trip to Charlotte, you wouldn't know until it was too late. So you had to pack a bunch of extra stuff or be completely horse-fucked. Which probably sucked. And then if there was a hurricane? Well, you're dead. FUCKING DEAD! So people that complain about bad forecasting when a devastating hurricane changes it's course a day before landfall can suck it. You knew about this hurricane when it was 32,349 miles away in the middle of the Cocklantic Ocean! Back in 1928, you just died! YOU. JUST. DIED. So give the weatherpeople a break.

I just never got the complaining about small inaccuracies in weather forecasting, and Blogger is my podium from which to take a stand. And I'm sure that the stand I take will be far-reaching and highly effective.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

My roof is made out of metal


Yes, that’s right…my car’s roof is made out of metal. Of some sort. Whatever cars are made out of. So I guess my roof is made out of car. AND THAT SUCKS.


See, last year I had this sweet deal on a convertible and, while the typical Florida weather hovers around hot as balls with spot torrential rainstorms, I still pretty much de-roofed it every day. And yeah, I’d blast the gangster stuff, because that’s just who I am. Young Jeezy can get a sweet ass deal on coke, or so he says, and I can identify with that. I used to cop bricks by the kilo as well…you know, back when I was trying to find ways to improve my knowledge of the metric system. Mad grams up in this hizzy, yo. But it wouldn’t even matter what it was…I was a superstar in that whip. I could drive by just blasting Pat Benatar’s “Love is a Battlefield” and people would look over all like, “oh snap look at that gangsta mothafuckkkaaaaaa!!!” and I’d just be rocking out like “HEARTACHE TO HEARTACHE WE STAND, BITCHES!!!!!!!!!”…oh, those were the days.


But now, now that I have a regular whip, things just aren’t as cool anymore. This car actually probably has better speaks than the old whip, as the dude that used to own it must have shared a similar affinity for pumping the ol’ bass. But…I have child-safety windows in the back. I realized that today when I was playing my current jam (Rich Boy - Drop – get used to it, you will probably be sick of it by fall), that, you know, this just isn’t gangster. MY WINDOWS DON’T EVEN GO ALL THE WAY DOWN! That is NOT gangster. That is the opposite of gangster…that is accounting. I’m rollin’down 441 with my speaks going nuts, “drop….drop….” and motherfurnaces are all staring like, “look at this accountant…that accountant ain’t gangster”. And I have to look out the window and yell that “I AM NOT A FUCKING ACCOUNTANT!”. Gay.


So, fuck you, Audi. You know damn well that car wasn’t worth $28,000, and I hope you never sell it. I also hope it gets AIDS. Good luck selling a car with AIDS, cocksicles.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Geriatric Farms


One of my favorite things to do is make fun of vegetarians. Not that I care or anything; I mean, really, I like to make fun of everything and everybody. But vegetarians happen to make that list. I was watching the Pens game at a bar yesterday with a friend who happens to be a vegetarian and along with an event from the previous day in which I was told that the Seabass is freaking endangered, I formulated a get rich plan.

Geriatric Farms!

Sidenote...how is the Sea Bass endangered? It doesn't sound like an animal that should be endangered. It's not like, the Malaysian Horsecow or the Leaping Brown Squirrel...it's the motherf-ing SEA BASS! There should be more of these than there are Real Sex episodes on HBO.

Anyway, Geriatric Farms will be my first entrepreneurial endeavor. Are you appalled by the less than humane (that doesn't make sense to me, as they aren't human...wouldn't it be like animane or something?) treatment of the delicious animals that we eat? While I think that animals taste better when they are ruthlessly bludgeoned, I can see where you are coming from. That's why at Geriatric Farms, all of our animals are certified to have died of natural causes.

Whether a cow has died of old age, an auto accident, or even bovine tuberculosis, you can rest assured that it wasn't ground up in a spiked rotating contraption like the other sick, twisted farms from which you can purchase your cows. You ever see those videos of cows being thrown through the sky in intense hurricanes? Well, fuck it, those cows are still good for eating! Hurricane cows, tornado cows, whatever. We have it and we will sell it! Sure, you may need a ton of A1 sauce for these land manatees, but at least you'll know that you are making a difference.

So please, give Geriatric Farms a chance. We promise you'll love our old, wrinkled meat.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Things


Things indeed. Hey Manute.


I was just randomly wondering about things recently. For example...who found vodka? Who the hell invented that? Wine and beer are kind of in the same boat but can be explained, I guess, although I am still skeptical about the kind of person that would find some nasty fermented grapes and then eat enough of them to get all hammered up. But vodka? Who the hell discovered that and then kept drinking it? If I accidentally discovered vodka and then tried to drink some of it and it tasted like, well...like vodka tastes, I would immediately stop drinking it. And then call poison control. Because I'd think that I just drank pancreatic cancer. The last thing I would do is look around for any orange juice to mix it with, because there would be no reason for me to think that mixing it with juice will make it any less poisonous. So props I guess to whomever did the initial legwork in a much more rational fashion than I would have.

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

I just got a different car (since it's not new at all and older than my last one, I'm calling it different) and it had a messed up CD player. Not a big deal, I had one sitting around from the old Buick and I put it in the Nissan. And then yesterday I went to turn it up and thought, hey, these speakers are much better than the ones that were in the Buick, I'm gonna turn this bitch up. It went to 62.

SIXTY FUCKING TWO.

Who at Pioneer decided to make 62 the cut-off? Was it an old-school Olli Jokinen tribute? That makes no rational sense. Was it an even more retarded Nigel from Spinal Tap? "These go to 62". Well what the hell was wrong with eleven? I don't want to be driving along with some hot babes, throw on some Real McCoy and say "hey ladies, you want me to crank this shizz up to 62?". Because that would be strange and girls don't like for me to act strange while we are cruising around the Everglades listening to some Real McCoy. Get your act together, Pioneer.


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I'm sure this isn't cutting edge, but it came up again yesterday. To preface, I love analogies. If analogies were a fat chick, I'd still bang her. And I'd f-ing like it, ok? I would give out more loads than a trucking dispatch. Anyway, the "if your friends jumped off a bridge, would you?" analogy came up, and while I am often chastised for using extreme analogies, none are as bad as this one and yet it is readily accepted and even embraced by otherwise normal people. What the hell? It's the most extreme analogy ever. First off, how high is the bridge? Is it like the bridge in college above that river that everyone jumped off of? And second, who the hell cannot differentiate jumping off of a bridge from normal activities? Say your friends offered you a juice box and said "yo, dog, try this juice box". Who the hell wouldn't drink that juice box? If I offered you a juice box and you said no, I'd fucking punch you right in your face. We wouldn't be friends anymore.

The fact that this analogy even exists shows that normal people can differentiate between jumping off of bridges and normal activities. If that were not the case, the analogy would not be appropriate because EVERYBODY WOULD BE JUMPING OFF BRIDGES.


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I hate how Facebook tells me that "somebody has just compared you to his/her friends". Because if they pick you, it says "somebody has just compared you to her friends and determined that you have a nicer wang". But if not, they just give the first sentence. Meaning that you lost. Why kill my buzz like that, Facebook? You are pretty much telling me that I have been viewed as inferior to someone else in a comparison of desireable features. Until they start asking "Hey, who's gayer?" and let people make those comparisons, it's just a bad way to start my day.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Wordpress's advice 2: THE LIST!


He's makin' a list...he's checkin' it twice...it's the top 30 ways that you can skullfuck a deer...

Wait. Those might not be the correct lyrics. Anyway, Wordpress told me a couple weeks ago that if I got stuck in a rut blogwise, they had 10 suggestions to pull up a creative truck and clever-winch me out. Suggestion two was to make a list...because even though you have nothing in your head to write about, you can certainly put that nothingness in list form!

So, first order of business is to come up with a list. Second order of business is to write it. That pretty much covers all orders of business involved in this task. Ok.

Let's list a bunch of the moves that I like to make in a chess game.


MOVE 1: MOVING THE HORSE AND THEN KILLING PEOPLE WITH IT

I love to move the horse. He can fucking jump over people! Unfortunately, his one leg is apparently really messed up and he always ends up leaning to the left or right. Sometimes, people are in the way of this lean and he freaking kills them. I love to make horse noises while I move the horse. In fact, I am going to make noises when I move every piece on the chess board. Moving the horse while making horse noises and killing somebody is one of the most satisfying things in life, right up there with making the final payment on a car loan and placing your balls into a vat of petroleum jelly.


MOVE 2: TURNING A PAWN INTO A HORSE

Pawns! Pawns sure are some little bitch fake gangsters, but they are gangsters nonetheless and can only kill diagonally because they hold their guns sideways with that gangster tilt. Sometimes they get a little hop in their step and can start off by moving two spaces ahead, but then they are quickly intimidated by the other pieces and can only move one space ahead. However, if they reach the promised land, they can metamorphisize into a queen or a priest or EVEN ANOTHER HORSE! It's like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly, or like an alcoholic door-to-door vacuum salesman turning into a homeless guy.


MOVE 3: MOVING THE KING IN ANY DIRECTION

Holy hell is the king a beast. HE CAN MOVE IN ANY DIRECTION! You may be like, "yeah, but he can only move one space, while the queen can move as far as she wants", and I would slap you and tell you to keep your dirty feminist mouth shut. The queen only does that because the king tells that bitch to do it. Meanwhile, the king moves one space and he's like "fuck this, I'm the damn king. I'm just gonna chill", while everybody else does all the work. Everytime I move the king I feel like a captain of industry. It makes me harder than black-on-blonde anime porn.


MOVE 4: MOLESTING OTHER PIECES WITH THE PRIEST

I love to molest other pieces that get in my path with the bishop. The priest. The ruthless chess molester that can only move diagonally because he's drunk as hell off wine. And everytime an opposing underage male piece finds itself in his stumbling drunken path, that piece is then thoroughly molested. The priest initially cons the piece into sampling some wine and moving to the priest's "office" for "friendly advice" and before long, the priest is fondling that piece into submission. This is a great way to not only capture pieces but also to damage your opponent's morale.


MOVE 5: NOT TAKING WORDPRESS'S ADVICE

Thanks a lot, Wordpress. You really know how to make ideas pop. Homos.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

F it. I'll take Wordpress's advice


That's right, Wordpress. You go girlfriend. They gave me some advice a few weeks ago, and I told them to go and play with themselves...but things have changed. I just went a whole week without posting anything and then got served by some fake article claiming that the Pope told Africans to use Bibles as condoms, and so now I have come crawling back to Wordpress. First order of business is step one of their list of suggestions...

"Some of the best ideas come from readers. Read through your comments and check for interesting questions, provoking thoughts, or anything that could become a good post topic. Focus particularly on any comment threads that contain a spirited discussion among readers. If it's hot, run with it."

Excellent suggestion, Wordpress. I was busy for so long just completely ignoring everything that was ever said on here, but now I need to make amends with the commenters who have commented and listen to their suggestions. And from that post, Symo essentially asked me to break down the Global Warming debate using only hieroglyphics and a Venn Diagram. So let's do this.

First, we are going to need some hieroglyphics.

We will refer to scientists with beakers of random liquid, because that seems sciencey enough. Let's start the Venn Diagram...the left circle represents the "yes, humans are responsible" side of the argument while the right represents the "it's a natural cycle aspect.




It seems to me that more scientists tend to think that this warming cycle is not natural than think that it is, but you can find some of both arguments and so I'll just go two to one on my Venn. The Venn isn't exactly supposed to be a perfect mathematical representation of the argument.

Next, we'll represent the people, companies, etc. with special interests influencing their minds as opposed to actual data. They will be represented by money.




While Al Gore and others may be making a bit of change by selling carbon credits to morons, I think that most of the moneyed interests want us to believe that global warming is not occurring because the trucks they make get 8 miles to the gallon. So I've put more of them on the "natural-cycle" side. Again, if you want to debate this, you can start your own blog entitled "Responses To Global Warming Debates That Use Venn Diagrams and Hieroglyphics" and see how many hits you get. Probably less than Rihanna got.

Finally, we will represent the millions of people who have absolutely no idea what they are talking about and get all of their info from fellow idiots on TV and radio with penises.




There, I even threw a black one in there for diversity. I bet you that does wonders for my placement on Google search results.

So, that's pretty much it. That right there is the Global Warming debate broken down using a Venn Diagram and hieroglyphics. Can't wait to see what Wordpress has for me to do tomorrow!

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

The challenge



I occasionally write at a second website (usually involves copying certain things from this site over) as "Newman". I know the guy who started it and he offered me a chance to put some stuff on there back when I started this place and had nary a viewer.

Well, another one of the guys who writes over there got tired of all the weight-loss, fit, what-have-you challenges that they always held over there and wanted to hold another type of challenge...one birthed from pure vanity. Behold, the first annual (probably not) AofG Meathead Challenge!

The goal? Well, we are two similarly sized fellows, both with a max bench press in the 225-265 area. The race is to 315 lbs. Winner is the first one to get there or the last one to stop trying.

I don't think my frame can support a 315 lb bench press, but I'm going to go for the gold here. VERN DOES NOT LOSE INTERNET CHALLENGES, and you can take that to the...uh, Paypal.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Gas up the jet for you tonight and you can go wherever you liiiiike


TI sure does look menacing wielding a Canadian little leaguer's bat.

I received an email yesterday from a friend of mine who works in the private aviation business (or something like that, whatever the preferred nomenclature is) who passed on a letter from the president of NATA (which I'm guessing is some sort of private aviation association) James Coyne to President Obama suggesting that people lighten up on their criticism of companies using private planes in the recession. I kind of agree to a point, but...all the criticism I've heard was directed at the major car companies. You know, the ones who couldn't afford to fly in a private plane because they were going to be $31 billion short this year. I don't care if John Travolta flies in his private plane because he's earned enough money to do so. However, Alan Mullally (CEO of Ford) has not. He has considerably f-ed up his former powerhouse of a company and I think he should have to make the drive from Detroit to DC in a vegetable powered Smart Car.

Since this is an open letter, it's fair game.

Let's go.



At a White House gathering this week you spoke about your
helicopter, Marine One, as a new experience. I'm sure you're also
learning to appreciate Air Force One and have already become very
familiar with all the benefits of personal (or what some call 'general,'
'private,' or 'business') aviation during the campaign.

In what some call "a plane" or "a flying contraption". Surely you had never flown in a personal aircraft before now.



Personal aviation is something very special - but the
industry that makes this all possible is under attack and may soon face
economic collapse. Tens of thousands of jobs have already been shed and
the industry is in a tailspin. What threatens these world-class
American businesses most of all, you ask? The statements and actions
produced by the Administration and Congress since you were elected have
been, I believe, unintentionally catastrophic.

This is where you have to name a statement that he has made that has been unintentionally catastrophic. If a company cannot afford to fly, but Barack Obama comes out and says "let's fly!", are they going to disregard the bottom line and do it? Surely the private aviation business should not be affected in a worldwide recession!




It was heartwarming to see you pay tribute to Chesley
Sullenberger during your address to Congress this week. President
Reagan paid a similar tribute in his first State of the Union address to
Lenny Skutnik, a heroic citizen who rescued passengers when an Air
Florida plane crashed into the Potomac in 1982. It seems that
presidents appreciate the heroism of citizens who try to save victims of
plane crashes. It's now time for a different kind of heroism to save
aviation itself - and it won't require anyone to walk on water. All
that is needed is an understanding in Washington that it's not fair for
private aviation to become a political punching bag in some perverse
populist version of class warfare in the skies. It's time for you to be
the hero.

No. He didn't just do that. This guy just put displaying faith in the private aviation business on par with saving hundreds of lives as a pilot on a crashing plane? Holy hell. You would think he was biased or something.




That's not to say that private aviation is perfect. Three
auto executives in November misused their planes, but so have
presidents. President Bush surely regrets sitting comfortably in Air
Force One in the skies over New Orleans, while thousands suffered in the
wake of Hurricane Katrina, and President Clinton must regret getting a haircut in Air Force One on the ramp at LAX while ordinary airline passengers had to wait.

Should Bush have walked to New Orleans? Should Clinton be embarrassed that as President he gets to have his own barber? What the hell is your point here? You sound like a Berkeley tree-hugger.




But just as 99% of presidential air travel is justified, even essential, so too is
the overwhelming majority of private aircraft use.

No. It's not. The President of the country is more important than the president of Miami Subs. If your company cannot afford to fly private planes all the time, then they won't. It has nothing to do with a stigma. Plus, you know, the president of Miami Subs doesn't have to fly over to Israel to hammer out a peace treaty after he's done with his regional conference in Atlanta. He can fly Southwest.




Of course, broad international economic forces have
depressed aviation, like all businesses, but private aviation has been
singled out in recent months as something unworthy by our nation's
political leaders, as though the 1.3 million men and women in our
industry are somehow expendable.

Yeah, because the dumb motherfucker was communting to work everyday on a private plane and not reporting flights that he was legally obligated to report. If Obama commuted to the White House on a plane every day from Chicago, I'm guessing we'd see some criticism.



Congressmen have ridiculed businessmen for merely owning a plane and passed laws prohibiting private air travel in companies receiving bail-out funds --
without even allowing the affected firms to prove that their use of a
private plane is just as essential to them as it is to you. Despite
these attacks, personal aviation is a critical tool for many businesses
even when times are tough and profits are scarce , especially if their
competitors are hunkered down and clueless about new opportunities.

Dude...how old are you? Congressmen ask stupid questions. That's what they do. It's shock value and it makes them look bad. Once again, congressmen are freaking idiots. Put no stock into what they say. It's a soap opera.

Now, if it's really profitable for a business to use private aviation, they'll do it. That's what businesses do. They don't care if some retard congressman asked Chrysler's CEO if he's going to go out and sell his private jet on Craigslist after the conference. Woe be the private aviation business that some companies have decided to cut back on PRIVATE PLANES in a RECESSION. You'd think they would just started firing people instead, right? Maybe cut off water and electricity or something. Why private planes!?!?!?!




But my message is not that your use of Air Force One (or
Marine One) is inappropriate. Not at all! It is a great value to the
taxpayers. Even at a million dollars per flight hour, given the time
pressures on our nation's chief executive and the responsibility you
have around the world (not to mention the importance of getting home at
the end of the day to see your family), it is obviously cost effective.
Personal aviation brings your enthusiasm to every corner of our nation
and allows you to arrive refreshed for summit meetings around the world,
anytime, anywhere.

Right. He's the President. He has places to be.



Rather, I want to point out - as I hope someday you will
proudly admit - that thousands of business leaders across America are
just as justified to use private aviation as you, even if their
companies have only a tiny fraction as much red ink on their balance
sheet as your federal government has on its. And it's not just business
leaders: presidents, CEOs, and leaders of universities, foundations,
associations, unions, hospitals, law firms and individuals as diverse as
Tiger Woods, John Travolta, and Yo-Yo Ma all depend on personal aviation
as much as you do.

THEN LET THEM PAY FOR IT. Do you want Obama to step in and foot the bill? Are armed security guards stalking out Yo-Yo Ma and preventing him from flying? If Tiger Woods decides that he wants to save a few bucks and fly Delta to his next tournament, then I'm sorry, but he has that right and you are just SOL, my private plane pimping friend. I'm not going to shed a tear for you or for Tiger Woods.





It's time to stop the populist demonizing. It's time,
instead, to support, if only with words, an outstanding American success
story. Compare our industry and products with all other transportation
modes. We once had five other world-beating transportation sectors:
Our maritime, railroad, mass transit, car, and truck industries were the
finest and largest in the world. Now all these have declined and
millions have lost their jobs. Only in personal aviation are we still
number one in the world. Only in personal aviation do we dominate
markets around the globe. Only in personal aviation were 21st-century
employment levels at all-time highs. And only personal aviation has
become a pariah in Washington. Why?

Because it's expensive as fuck and not necessary for the executives of a company receiving $35 billion in taxpayer buyouts. Tiger Woods isn't receiving a buyout. John Travolta isn't receiving a buyout. GM is. So this issue can be raised. Maybe I just missed it, but I didn't sense any outrage from the exclusive getaway business when AIG was villified for living it up at a California resort with their bailout money. But I'm sure they were fucking PISSED.

But +1 to you, aviation business. You guys sure stuck it to the railroad industry.




Some people say it's just politics. Three tin-ear auto
executives perhaps needed to be criticized, but why shoot every personal
airplane out of the sky?

Sounds like it might be, if true. Examples, please. These are just platitudes.



Others say its envy and a new form of classwarfare. Don't they understand that not everyone has the same transportation requirements? Buses may be fine for some people to get
to work, and bicycles, subways, and taxis for others, but millions of us
need personal automobiles to be effective. It's the same with aviation.
The airlines don't meet the needs of thousands and thousands of
businessmen and women. They need more flexibility, more speed, more
security, more availability, better schedules, and more control. Just
as the President of the United States does!

Nobody is saying that you should take bikes. If you can afford a private plane, then by all means, fly away. But if people can't and want to cut costs, then I'm sorry. Private planes are probably going to be pretty high up on that list, right below "giant cleaning robots".




But it was the President of the United States who denigrated
personal aviation in his address to Congress this week, as so many
politicians have been doing lately. No one wants, as you said in your
speech, "CEOs to use taxpayer money to . disappear on a private jet,"
but is anyone really doing that -- disappearing? What if the CEOs, when
they get on that jet, are actually increasing sales, making investments,
evaluating major projects, delivering speeches, building morale,
motivating their troops, making new loans, expanding plants, exploring
new markets, finding new resources, beating competitors, attracting
investors, and saving their company? Are they allowed to do that -
because most of the time that's what they're doing!

They aren't. That's why they just asked for $35 billion. You may have missed it.

Sorry, Ford. Fly coach until you can lose less than $35 billion a year.

If I tell someone they shouldn't buy a Lambo because they can't afford it, am I denigrating the auto industry? No. Get a fucking Honda.




They're not "disappearing," they're trying to be as active
as possible, doing as much with their 24-hours-a-day as you try to do
with yours. They think it's wrong to just hunker down like a cowering
groundhog. They want to soar, seize the day, and build their
businesses. Isn't that exactly what we need to get out of a recession?
In fact, we need more personal and business aviation activity now than
ever before - it's the get-the-job-done tool that's vital for American
business.

No, the key is not producing way more piss-poor inventory than they can sell. That's what we need to get out of this recession. Look, the CEOs might need to fly private planes if they have a few meetings in one day. But they didn't need to do it to go ask for $35 billion. That's all people are saying. I really don't care either way, but this just sounds like some serious sour grapes.




The fact of the matter is that since mid-November, when our
industry was famously a victim of a drive-by shooting by three auto
executives and a hostile Congressional committee, personal aviation
activity in America has fallen by more than a third. Corporations are
being forced to sell their airplanes and aircraft resale prices have
fallen to the lowest levels in history. Billions of dollars of aircraft
values have disappeared and employment has been slashed at virtually
every aviation business in the country.

Yeah. It's a recession. You hear about it? You realize that the economy has plummeted since this meeting, right? Like, other things have happened that may have influenced the drop in personal aviation. The DOW fell like 3,000 points, too. Was this also a result of the drive-by shooting you mentioned?




But we know that you will continue to use personal aviation.
We know that you depend on it to do your job. Why then is our
government denigrating the thousands of others in all walks of life who
simply want to do the same? You're not the only president in America
who needs to fly.

No, but he needs it a bit more than most. Because he's not making brake pads. I missed the part where we all started making fun of people flying in planes.




So what can you do? First, make promotion of aviation a
reality within the federal government, just as we promote all other
transportation modes. The FAA used to do it, but no more. Tell them
jobs are at stake, because they are.

Jobs are at stake everywhere. DEMAND that people fly in private planes, because James Coyne is losing out on a third of his membership dues.




Second, create a program to foster our nation's
world-leading businesses, like personal aviation. These are exactly the
business sectors that need government as a partner, not an enemy.
Explore ways that government can grow these businesses and expand
exports.

Simple. If people have money, they will fly. If they don't, they won't. Explore alternative methods that may focus on fixing the rest of the economy that normal people use.




Third, integrate private aviation into our total
transportation system more fully. We're losing airports and making it
harder to operate aircraft. Aviation's most important century is at
hand, and yet we ignore it. The FAA is dysfunctional and desperately
needs new leadership and a spirit of innovation.

Expound on this. What you just wrote is meaningless.




Finally, encourage all Americans to be as active as you are.
A dramatic increase in all forms of activity - economic and physical, as
well as political -- is the only thing that will end the recession.

We've been doing this for years. We know people are fat. And I think the last thing we need is more politics, which has done nothing but divide the country in two in the past decade or so.




It is interesting to note that 100 years ago, this year, the
Wright brothers sold their first airplane, to the U.S. Signal Corps.
Called the Wright 1909 Flyer, it was truly the first personal aircraft.
Ever since, the government has supported personal aviation - until now.
Hopefully, this is a brief exception, when political rhetoric fell from
its normally lofty heights and was used hurtfully, perhaps innocently,
in ways that has severely harmed this proud, American industry.

THE GOVERNMENT IS NOT GOING TO TAKE AWAY YOUR PLANE.




But personal aviation isn't asking for a bailout or a line
item in the budget. We only want our government's leaders, who use
personal aviation more than anyone, to acknowledge our value and include
us in their vision of a new America, or as Aretha Franklin might say,
"give us a little R-E-S-P-E-C-T."

What do you want? Do you want Obama to come out and say "planes aren't bad"? Obama, could you just do this for this guy? World's smallest violin for you, the personal aviation industry.

Friday, February 27, 2009

The Afterlife


I've always heard stuff like, you know, when Kurt Busch's entire family is killed by polar bears and he wins the Enzyte 500 and says "I know that my entire bear-murdered family was up there watching over me and making this happen", and it has made me wonder.

Do they watch everything? And is it just your family members allowed to watch?

For example, one night during my sophomore year of college I had partaken in the drank and woke up the following morning to realize that I had pissed all over myself. It sucked. Covered in piss is no way to wake up in the mornings. But, to make it worse...was my grandma watching? Was she like, "God damn it...my idiot grandson just pissed all over himself" and saying stuff like "I don't even know who that is" when James Morrison asks her? I'd feel horrible if I let my grandma down while she was watching me piss all over myself.

And, say you are with some random chick, and you pull out and put it on her face. Is Abraham Lincoln watching? I just think that would be weird, however, at the same time I'd really like to perform for Lincoln. I wouldn't want to let him down. It leaves quite a dilemma if one day when I die of a PBR overdose in 4 years, I am faced with the choice of watching people bang it out and stuff like that. Because while that may be cool at first, it would get annoying because I wouldn't really be able to do anything for myself. Plus, I might pick the wrong place and see some weird person shove toothbrushes up their ass or something like that. You know those weird people are out there. Then I'd have to watch their roommate brush their teeth with it. SICK! You citizens of Earth are sick.

It also leaves for some legal grey areas. What if someone who died of skin rabies at 27 is caught watching a 16-year old on Earth showering? Is that still a crime? What if you accidentally see it? As far as I can tell, no precendents have been set. Not saying I'm going to be the first, you sick fucks. I'm just going to watch cougars. It will be my own personal zoo for private viewing.

So please don't piss on yourselves, because Rutherford B. Hayes could be watching.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

I might start recognizing greatness


At this point, I have maintained a no blogroll policy because I don't want to have to make a decision as to whether or not someone deserves a spot on my ever-so-sacred list and I don't want to get into the business of swapping links with people, which is like a blog version of snowballing. And snowballing is not the type of balling that Jim Jones was singing about.

However, as so many of the blogs I read have achieved greatness, I may not be able to justify keeping them down anymore. I don't want to be known as the blog that has an anti-greatness policy. And big blogs are not going to be included...while I read KSK, I'm not going to fill my linklog up with a bunch of ESPNs or Deadspin before it sucked and places of that nature.

So we'll see. Everyone should keep striving for greatness.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

25 random places I'd like to put my penis

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Monday, January 26, 2009

Randomness


Yeah, I know that just listing random things is the lowest form of bloggering. You know, Jay Mohr level stuff. Stuff anyone can do. But hey, I'm anyone. So I'm gonna do it. I just took a trip (ON A PLANE!!!!) over the last four days and every time I do that it leaves me with a bunch of strange thoughts. I hope I can remember them now.

- I hate Randomtalk Jacksons. You know, the people that just try to strike up a conversation with you and continue it when you show that you aren't interested. Be it in line at an airport, at the checkout line in a grocery store, or even while I'm sitting behind a bush in a parking lot jacking it to thoughts of Stephanie Tanner. Yes, guy with a Florida hat, bag, t-shirt and soul, I am wearing a Florida Gators hat. No, I didn't graduate. They are a pretty popular university for their athletics, dude. I just like the team. Now go sit down and touch yourself while thinking of Danny Wuerffel.

- Charles "Sully" Sullenberger's biggest contribution was not the fact that he saved all of those people's lives when he landed his plane in the Hudson River. His absolute biggest contribution was the fact that he made plane crash humor lighthearted again. Now, when the lady (or gay dude) on the plane is doing the run down on the oxygen masks or the floatation devices under the seat, people aren't like, "hey, what are we going to need oxygen for when we are dying a firey death?", followed by frightened glances and forced smirks. Now, people are like "yeah, in case we have to land this motherfucker in Lake Okeechobee" and everyone's like "LOL!" and "plus one to you, sir!" and it's just so much more jubilant.

- Speaking of the landing in the Hudson, stop believing the news anchors when they say "reports indicate that the water was 20 degrees!". I heard them say as low as 8 degrees. EIGHT FUCKING DEGREES. Here, let me show you a picture of a river when the water is 8 fucking degrees:


- I saw a Bentley drive by while I was waiting for a ride home from the airport. I thought to myself that if that Bentley would have picked me up, I would have mentioned that it was the most expensive vehicle I'd ever rode in. They I would have paused and been like "wait, I just got off of a $100 million plane".

- I hate the phrase "deplane" in regards to clearing off an airplane. A plane can be deplaned, we can deplane the plane, you can probably describe a plane as deplaned. It's retard in noun, verb and adjective forms. But you only use it for planes. You don't call somebody up and say "yo, I just pulled up in front of your house...should I decar now?", or "yeah, it took a little longer for the 4th graders to debus today". When I degauss my computer monitor, I don't have to get out of my gauss to do it. So I'm going to punch the next person that says that right in their child.

- I hate people who criticize others for "selling out". I would sell out so fast if given the chance. Life's too short to actually have to work during it. If Chevrolet offered me $500 to change the name of this blog to "You Lay on the Ice Like the All-New '09 Chevy Avalanche", I'm not only doing it, I'm also letting everyone that works for Chevrolet take their turn face-fucking my wife. Assuming I'm married when it happens.

- It's official Steelers week here on planet Earth. If there aren't going to be enough Cardinals fans to argue with, I figure our best shot is to make everyone else hate us. Do your part, fans of the 5-time Super Bowl champs.


That's all I have. For now. Because I know there was more. I should invest in a notepad of sorts.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Blogger's block


I've got nothing to write about. Straight drawing blanks here, players. Above, enjoy a random picture of a sacred cow.

Something needs to happen so I can continue to write nonsense on the internets. I'm also thinking about bringing a webcam to a doctor's office and doing an online STD test.

While at a doctor's office last week to find out why I be all sick recently and stuff, I thought...do these Indian doctors get jealous when they have to perform physicals? I bet they do.

I still have yet to receive my Obama check. I guess I'll just continue working in the interim, but I have faith that it's coming and that it's going to support a decent lifestyle.

My car lease is up soon. I hope they give me a good deal, because I want the car. But I don't really want to pay for it. DILEMMA!

I don't get why so many people care about gay marriage. I don't. Either way. Why is everybody so fascinated by it? I don't care if the gays marry. I don't care if they don't marry. The main reason is that I'm not gay and I'm not going to get gay married.

Random thought is the lowest form of blogging. Really, this should be saved for stuff like Facebook pages and AIM profiles. But hey, whatareyagonnado?

After listening to some Ray Lewis interviews, I legitimately would not be shocked if it turns out the he is indeed gay and honed his dancing and jazzhands skills while singing show tunes in the team shower.

Seriously, people of the world, please do something that I can blog about. Oh, and alert me to it in a timely fashion so I can be ahead of the curve, just like my women. lolololol

I love the unexpected "lol" in emails and stuff like that. Like, when I get an email from some guy at work detailing some municipal treatment plant's flowrate and he throws in a "they plan on treating 30 million gallons a day...lol!" and I'm like, did you just fucking say lol in an email to me? Are you alright? Is everything ok? I'm not laughing out loud right now. In fact, I'm not even slightly amused. Why are you? Wtf? Should I really be lmao-ing right now? I guess just call me Lmao Ming.

Then I get fired for saying "fucking" in an email and being derogatory towards tall Chinese basketball players. The sacred cow can stay though, as it was determined that I am simply paying respects to a different culture. That's how I roll.

If I owned a sushi restaurant, I would certainly have the "Slow Your Roll" on the menu, along with the "Know Your Roll", the "Get Your Roll On", the "Honor Roll", the...holy hell, I could really see this going somewhere. I could easily fill up a menu with stupid phrases with "roll" in them. This place would be huge. I need to get on this.

I need to think of something for Ray Lewis and Vince Young to be doing together and then I may actually be able to create something bloggable. Until then, ehhhh, I got nothin'.

Monday, December 8, 2008

I hate bathroom attendants


Hate. Hatehatehate. I want to punch all of them square in their lives. RIGHT IN YOUR LIFE! That's where I want to punch bathroom attendants. HATE. Hate. If you turned my hatred into a form of cancer, you wouldn't possibly be able to sell enough Livestrong bracelets to cure it. It wouldn't even be worth trying.

I've wanted to address this subject in the past, but always forgot since I usually only see bathroom attendants on weekends, and I don't write blog posts on weekends. Fuck that. And last Friday I saw one again, and now I just remembered about it. I was at an Irish Pub in Miami, one we hadn't gone to before. And it happened to be a Mexican high school reunion. We were the only gringos in attendance, and the only ones without name tags. "Hey, what year were you!?!?!"...don't worry about it, lady. I'm old enough to fuck your daughter. How's that? That's how fucking old I am. Go back to salsa dancing.

So, while there, I head to the bathroom to find a God damn bathroom attendant in the small cramped ass bathroom of a motherbanging IRISH PUB. I'm not at some club. I'm not making it rain with Lil' Weezy down at Mansion. I'm at Random O'Jockstraps Irish Pub on some backstreet right next to hood Miami. Places where all of the houses have windows guarded by bars made out of enriched Uranium. There should not be a bathroom attendant here. I CAN HOLD MY OWN PENIS, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. That's what I'm going to do next time I see a bathroom attendant. I'm going to pull my penis out and say "hey, bathroom attendant, can you hold this for me? I obviously can't do it myself, which is why you are here. I'll tip you a dollar". Is that why I hate it? Mostly. Call me cheap, but I don't want to tip some guy because he squeezed some soap into my hands. I can do that myself. Really. You can place a soap holder thing on the wall, fill it with liquid soap, and just leave it there. I'll come in and I'll touch the button and get my own soap out. It's not that hard. There is no need for a middle man in this transaction...really.

I've never seen a bathroom attendant and been glad that he was there. I've never gone into the bathroom like "God, I hope some bathroom attendant in a suit is sitting in there because I really need a fucking mint right now". Or a damn spray of cheap cologne. Because that's fucking sexy. Going into a bathroom while you are at some gay ass bar and coming back out all of the sudden smelling like a gallon of pine trees. That's gonna get the chicks right there, man. The only reason I'd need a bathroom attendant would be if my hands were cut off and I couldn't get the soap myself...but then, I wouldn't even have hands to wash. See the problem? Bathroom attendants are not cool. NOT. COOL. Get rid of them, establishments, and maybe I'll give you some respect and stop jacking off in your bathrooms while no one is looking.

Monday, November 24, 2008

I wish I could shave


I have no theme. Am I supposed to have a theme? You know, like how some people dedicate their blogs to the Steelers or to puppies or to the size of their genitals or something, I just kind of go with whatever I feel like putting down. Is that normal? I don't know. Regardless, on to something completely pointless and irrelevant.

I suck at shaving. Seriously. I am terrible. Luckily I grow facial hair like a 15 year old, so I only have to shave it like once a week or so. But just about every time I do I cut myself. Sometimes pretty badly. In any given month, I'll cut myself more than an emo kid would in his saddest year. Why is this so hard? It can't be like this for everybody, can it? Should I stop using 4 year old rusted razors? Or does my razor just feel like it's 4 years old and rusted because I am to shaving what Kyle Boller was to the forward pass? Or what John Holmes was to wrapping it up? I have no idea. But I need to work on it, because I'm tired of my face feeling like Andre Rison's house after Left Eye Lopez set it on fire. Really cramps my style for the next few hours.

In my continuing effort to be a perfect human, I really need to work on correcting small flaws such as these. Not to worry, though...I'll eventually master the shaving process. One of these days, laser hair removal surgery is going to be jealous.