ChuurchOfFailure Blog

Best Picture: Avatar - I'm the only one on this god forsaken planet who hasn't seen this, but I know its crap. God forbid the academy continues to discriminate against the shitty movies most people go to see in the interest of maintaining their integrity over selling out to the idiot hordes. At this rate Nicholas Cage actually stands a chance to win another Oscar. Fuck Avatar and fuck everybody who saw it.

A Serious Man - Good flick, wonderful message: No matter how good a person you are and how much you try, horrible shit will happen.

Best Actress: Sandra Bullock for "The Blind Side" - Really? Sandra Bullock gets a nod for this dreck yet Benicio Del Toro can't get the time of day for Che? Del Toro became Che Guevara in that movie. Whether Bullock became that broad who adopted the big black kid, nobody knows. Nor should anybody care.

Best Foreign Film Not Nominated: Sin Nombre - Easily one of top five movies of the year, and yet it gets beaten out in the foreign category by the likes of "Ajami". Ajami? Is it mandatory that a mediocre film about Israel that nobody's ever heard of be nominated every year? Apparently the Hondurans don't run Hollywood after all.

Until next year, fuck it.

December 31, 2009 - Top Five News Stories from 2009 That I Couldn't Give A Shit About:

June 28 – Billy Mays dies of a cocaine overdose. Or from a slow brain bleed suffered due to an inability to follow basic airplane seatbelt instructions. Either way, the only difference I've noticed on Earth since is that channel 63 is much less loud as I flip through on my way to something a sane person would watch on television.

June 25th – Michael Jackson overdoses on everything: Dwelling on the thought of all the "Best of" albums he still had to re-release might be sad - if it wasn’t for the fact that his record company will put them out anyway. And that his music sucked.

December 20th - Brittany Murphy drops dead: A truly unique, irreplaceable… Oh, wait. There are other moderately talented, semi-attractive, neurotic actresses currently residing in the Los Angeles area willing to be paid good money to appear in major motion pictures? Never mind.

July 4th – Steve McNair murdered by his girlfriend: This story did help clarify the age-old question – "Once pro athletes get too old to be any good, do they continue to exist?" Apparently so – until one of the emotionally unstable broads they're fucking on the side comes home from their job at Dave and Buster's and ventilates their face with a semi-automatic hand cannon.

July 6th – Oscar Mayer, Chairman of Oscar Mayer Foods, kicks the bucket: Fine. Do you know what's in those hot dogs? These days, probably Oscar Mayer. Disgusting.

June 3rd – David Carradine dies of auto-erotic asphyxiation: Awesome. Went out like a champ.

November 29th, 2009 - Invasion of the Palinites - An ominous preview of what lies ahead after the political tide "shifts" back to the right: Interviews with Sarah Palin Book Signing Atendees

November 1st, 2009 - Some helpful pointers for avoiding a monotonous, amicable separation from your spouse: Ten Tips for Spicing Up Your Divorce

September 26th, 2009 - The results of the First Annual Chuurch of Apathy haiku contest are in! This year's winner is 11 year-old Brandon Von Till, with his entry "Pointless":

Eleven years-old
Seventy or so to go
What's the friggin' point?

Congratulations Brandon! Runners up and more notable entries here

September 5th, 2009 - Aptly named, a new article illustrating the misconceptions surrounding the misplaced glorification of freedom: Freedom Stinks

August 13th, 2009 - Healthcare, Fuckcare - So I was minding my own business yesterday, walking by a local high school on my way back from 7-11 with a bag full of Cheetos, two packs of Marlboro Lights, a coconut popsicle and what later turned out to be the latest free edition of Gay and Lesbian Times which I apparently mistook for the latest free edition of City Beat (the near-naked man flexing his muscles on the beach under the headline "Summer Sizzles" might have been a tip-off), when a man appeared from behind a hedge and said, "You look like the kind of guy who could use twenty bucks", and I said, "How can you tell?", and he pursed his lips and said he could just tell. I quickly confirmed his theory, and he offered me just that amount of money to hold a sign and shout things at a some kind of meeting inside the gym - an offer I quickly accepted.

Walking inside, my sign on my shoulder and popsicle in hand, I encountered sheer bedlam. All kinds of people with all kinds of signs were yelling all sorts of stuff and looking really angry. Despite the saturated decibel level and not being particularly angry, I figured I should earn my pay.

"Just say no! Just say no!" I started yelling, per the mystery man's instructions, until I was interrupted by this old, bespeckled mouse of a man who strode directly up to me, squinted me in the face and called me a "Nazi". Now, assuming that, their philosophical handicaps notwithstanding, there were plenty of decent, respectable Nazis, I didn't think much of it. But then he called me a rapscallion, and I got pissed. Real pissed. And next thing I knew, I was breaking my hand across his wrinkled old face.

So not having any insurance, I'm out about two grand for my busted hand - minus that twenty bucks. What the fuck? This country's healthcare sucks. Somebody should do something.

July 24th, 2009 - Some (Awful) Poetry - Found this latest gem in my daughter's journal and thought I'd share:

My life. My prison.
Surrounded by walls, cursed with calls,
You have the key. Only you can set me free.
Outside the sky is blue. The sun shines.
Inside my heart is blue and mostly cloudy.
Set me free. Set me free. Set me free.
A gypsy woman gives a crooked smile
As you approach... with a smile.
And I awake from my slumber. All alone.
My soul weeps.

Good Lord.

July 11th, 2009 - Summer Cookin' - Since losing yet another job, I’ve had the time to resume the pursuit of one of my least despised pastimes: discovering new recipes. For example, my Dorito Helper Casserole is a classic, and this Ramen Fish Finger Stew I invented just last night is quite the exotic delight. Yum, yum.

My most notable recipe however, aptly filed under 'D' for 'Disaster', is something I call "How to Completely Ruin Your Life", and can be recreated by following the following:

Ingredients:

•One young, semi-attractive young woman of preffered color, creed (they're all essentially the same)

•One box of condoms

Directions:

•Before completing college, court woman until she is amenable to initiating a sexual relationship

•Throw condoms in the garbage

•Insert penis into woman's vagina. Repeat until pregnant

Enjoy!

June 25th, 2009 - I'm Going to be Rich - Coming soon to an infomercial inside your glowy box:

Nihilizema - Guaranteed to significantly accelerate the aging process of your skin while promoting the spread of acne, Nihilizema is skin cream for non-conformists! Tired of worrying about looking young and "good" - the way society tells you you should every fucking minute of every god foresaken day? Have you reached the point where you honestly hate the world and everyone in it? Get a small taste of revenge by making everyone you meet sick to their stomachs at the sight of your wrinkled, ravaged, zit ridden face.

Yay.

June 18th, 2009 - Spanish Television Rules - Is it possible to actually sit through an entire program of what the networks are putting on primetime television these days? If you say yes, I say fuck you.

Disenchanted as described, I recently took refuge in a foreign televised land - where the glowing, digitized people speak a language I can only sort of understand (at times), and therefore doesn't constantly make me puke. In fact, I find what I can discern from watching the seemingly equally mindless programming on the Mexican channels in my area is that it is great. For instance, there appears to be a soap opera about a man who runs a very official business from behind a large business desk in a mansion while wearing a lucha libre mask. Is this man a former professional Mexican wrestler who has parlayed his match winnings into a successful import/export concern upon his retirement? Does he need to keep his identity secret for life for the atrocities he committed in the ring so many years ago? I don't know, because I only watched it for five minutes and only understood one part when he asked some guy he was mad at on the phone where his money was, and this other part where he told his hot secretary to "call Jorge and tell him to eat my wife."

My other favorite show, whose name I can't remember, should be called "Latin Jumblefuck". On the surface, it appears to be taking place someplace in 19th century Latin America. The wardrobes and hairstyles are very 1800s. Men with power reside in palatial manors staffed by slaves and whores. I believe I heard one of the older character's refer to Simon Bolivar as "grandpa". But then come the anachronisms. Bolivar's grandkid's nephew drives a Lexus. A woman complains to a friend of her plight as an endentured concubine. On a cell phone - right before a couple of swashbuckling pirates raid a saloon. If I had to guess, I'd say the show is supposed to take place on the Colombian Caribbean, circa 1830, which would make insinuating product placements for modern products a bit tricky, if this show's producers hadn't just said, "Fuck it. Stick 'em in!" Awesome.

June 6th, 2009 - Just in Time for Summer: Tips on Reclaiming Your Bachelorhood Part IV - Planning a Dysfunctional Road Trip

May 29th, 2009 - The Gay Struggle - As I watch this ongoing fight over gay marriage rights in California unfold while keeping in mind that they’re also in a tizzy over their right to serve in the military, I have to wonder about the motives of these people.

Marriage sucks. The military sucks. Fuck it.

Sure, it’s an insult and an affront to your nature as a human being to be told by an empowered majority that you’re unfit to play in their reindeer games, but when the games in question involve everyone tying their nuts off and running around shooting each other in the face… I don’t know. I might be inclined to just forget about it.

I have a cousin who is mentally retarded. Once when I was 17 he called me a ‘stupid fag’. I lost no sleep over it.

Seriously, is it really somebody’s idea of a dream life to be marooned in some shitty tract home in some crap military town while your gay wife or husband is off getting shot at in Iraq for 16 months at a time for two dollars an hour? How many times do you need to find yourself elbow deep in a screaming buddy’s guts or getting nagged for eating salsa on the couch before you realized you’ve picked the wrong fight?

May 14, 2009 - Public Speaking Tips - For those of you with jobs where other people work who might actually have a reason to give a shit about something you have to say: Here

May 8, 2009 - Hollywood Outsider - Sadly, between this pig virus going around and the economy the way it is, I haven't been able to attend any shitty movies lately.

This weekend, for instance, circumstances came between the bevy of shitty movies playing at my local megaplex and myself. I was deprived of viewing the latest shitty super hero film about the guy with the long fingernails. I did not see the latest shitty piece of shit Matthew McConaughey made 20 million dollars shitting up.

And I doubt wholeheartedly that I will be in attendance for the latest shitty adaptation of rehashed shit when Star Trek comes out tomorrow. Sigh.

I did, however, see a real piece of shit that I rented the other day, and to all you assholes who voted up 'Boondcock Saints' to a 7.9 on IMDB, enticing me to see it, I hope you go blind and die.

April 29, 2009 - Swine Flu FAQs - Seemingly out of nowhere, the swine flu virus has spread from person to person in Mexico and the United States, inducing the media to justifiably sound the armageddon knoll and people in general to completely lose their shit.

In the interest of serving the public, I, as an expert on everything (which includes swine flu), have provided answers to some of the most common questions regarding the pandemic that will inevitably kill us all: Swine Flu FAQs

April 22, 2009 - My New Favorite Comedian - Neil Hamburger:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n5NOt3ClPKA&feature=related

April 18, 2009 - Twitter Me This - Have you heard about this Twitter? As if our civilization needed another medium for self-indulgent, narcissistic, virtually illiterate shitheads to ramble incoherently into the infinite vacuum that is the internet. Christ.

So here's mine: http://twitter.com/ChuurchOfApathy (it's lame).

April 9, 2009 - I Got Some Funerals to Go to - The other night a friend of mine invited me and our other friend to opening day of the local baseball organization's season. Not having anything else to do and the ticket being offered for free, I accepted. On the way home, the friend in question, having had a few too many and me a few too few, asked me to drive (despite my better efforts, I've failed many times to become an alcoholic - the hangovers prevent me from stringing consecutive days drunk together, and it's too expensive - especially at the $8 a Bud Light professional sports franchise concessions charge these days). So I took his keys and was almost to my other friend's place when the brakes gave out. I pumped them. Nothing. Luckily, the next light was green and traffic was sparse, but I hadn't lost enough speed before the next intersection and the light was red, so I shouted, "Abandon ship!", pulled the emergency brake, and tucked and rolled my way to safety.

Long story short, the car spun into a Mobil station, hit a gas pump and exploded, so it looks like I need some new friends. Mine are all burned up.

March 30, 2009 - Stop in the Name of, Whatever - Recently, I considered pursuing a new career in law enforcement. After seeing an ad in the newspaper that my local police force was hiring deputy sheriffs, and that the starting salary was $52,000, I seriously contemplated applying to take the requisite examination. Then I thought better of it.

I mean, really. The last episode of Cops I saw featured a well groomed young cop who cited the events of 9/11 as his inspiration for joining the force - right after committing 15 minutes to sarcastically deconstructing a homeless man's story of how he came into possession of a used marijuana pipe. This is not me. If I happened upon a man with a bong under his shirt, I would be fine with that. Too much paperwork. Waste of tax payer dollars.

That being said, if during one of my "patrols" I encountered someone dragging the bleeding corpse of an eight year-old girl dressed in a peauty pageant gown up the sidewalk by her teeth, I'd go on a donut break.

I'm also pretty sure if a suspect runs they expect you to chase them. And fuck that. I'm not running after anyone.

No, I'm not cut out to be a cop.

March 21, 2009 - COA Defined By Contrast - Submitted as a point of reference for those wondering what the Chuurch of Apathy is about, basically it's the complete opposite of this kid:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_vz1TVpwme0

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to return to my couch, where I will spend the rest of the weekend alternating my gaze between teenagers competing to see who can throw a ball through a hoop more times, and a rose sitting in a vase on my coffee table slowly wilt and die.

March 10, 2009 - Sex Tips for People Who Don't Like Their Spouse - In the spirit of all those awful fashion magazines like Vogue and Cosmo that customarily include one page of rehashed sex tips somewhere inside their monthly publication of 850 pages of advertisements, linked are a number of highly useful sex tips for people who couldn't care less.

February 24, 2009 - The Feel Good Story of the Year - It's always nice to read a piece of uplifting news during dark and trying times like these, and last week's mauling of that lady from Connecticut by her friend's pet chimp really fit the bill. I mean Christ, that monkey really gave that broad what for.

The story moved me so much that I decided to get my family the chimpanzee they've been clamoring for for so long. They insist that they said they wanted a puppy, but too bad. Tick tock, tick tock.

Just kidding. I'd never get my family any kind of fucking pet. Too much trouble.

February 13, 2009 - My New Dream - I have a new dream. My previous dream, in which I spent 7 hours waiting for a bus only to wake up a second after realizing the stop had been detoured due to construction on a bridge a bit further down the road, has therefore been replaced.

In my new dream, I had the realization that I shouldn't move to New York City even if an affordable apartment suddenly became open to me. I should get a job there first, and definitely check out the place before I sign the papers. Upon my arrival, the apartment in my dream left a lot to be desired - the walls were paper-thin, and the day I moved in a couple with a screaming baby moved in next door. And as if that weren't enough, another neighbor - an obese Latino man sporting a poncho and a handlebar moustache - came into my patio area uninvited with his donkey, and it shit in my pool. When I confronted him, he became quite belligerent and cursed me in Spanish.

Additionally, my dream reminded me of the importance of always leaving plenty of buffer time between your dinner reservations and any theater performance you may have tickets for later on. My family didn't have enough last night, and it came down to missing the show or watching it on an empty stomach. It was a pretty stressful situation, which only exacerbated my sister's frazzled condition - having already crudely shaven her head, leaving long tufts of hair attached to the side of her scalp surrounding her ear.

So that's my new dream. What's yours? Email Bob

February 5, 2009 - Deep Thought of the Day - "Humor has always something bourgeois in it, although the true bourgeois is incapable of understanding it. In its imaginary realm the intricate and many-faceted realm of all Steppenwolves finds its realization. Here it is possible not only to extol the saint and profligate in one breath and to make the poles meet, but to include the bourgeois, too, in the same affirmation. Now it is possible to be possessed by God and affirm the sinner, or vice versa, but it is not possible for either saint or sinner (or for any other of the unconditioned) to affirm as well that lukewarm mean, the bourgeois. Humor alone, that magnificent discovery of those who are cut short in their calling to highest endeavor, those who falling short of tragedy are as rich in gifts as in affliction, humor alone (perhaps the most inborn and brilliant achievement of the spirit) attains to the impossible and brings every aspect of human experience within the rays of its prism." – Hermann Hesse, 1927

January 29, 2009 - The End is Nigh - After spending three minutes perusing an article about a book about a theory some people believe in, I’ve come to the conclusion that the world will soon be ending. Yes, tragically, benevolently or otherwise, it does appear that the end is nigh. The sun will be in alignment with the Milky Way or something (which is bad) on December 21, 2012, and that will spell the end, my friends. The Mayans evidently predicted it, and everyone knows the Mayans are never wrong.

Obviously this guarantee of a fiery or icy apocalypse makes the ongoing accumulation and retention of material possessions and currency an absurd farce that can only reduce your chances of being admitted to heaven on the off-chance such a place does actually exist, so as a public service, I am hereby offering my disposal services for all of your possibly ruinous no-longer-valuables and cash. Email ReverendBob@ChuurchOfApathy.com for further information, including where to send your stuff.

January 23, 2009 - Obligatory Oscar Nominations Thingee – I’ve noticed there tends to be a rather large upswing in the number of people bitching about who did or didn’t get nominated for an Oscar this time of year. I figure it probably has to do with the fact that the Academy Award nominations are always made in late January. Or maybe not. Either way, in the interest of avoiding not conforming to a popular trend involving screaming into a virtual vacuum over which celebrity tycoon was denied their just shiny reward for playing pretend, I submit for your mild to non-amusement some perfunctory ruminations on yesterday’s Oscar noms:

Best Actress:

Nominated: Angelina Jolie for “The Changeling”

Not: Kate Winslet for “Revolutionary Road”

Since when was this a “Biggest Lips - Smallest Hips” contest?

Also: since when was Kate Winslet the lead actress in “The Reader”?

Best Actor in a Supporting Role:

Everybody not named Heath Ledger: Good luck beating the tragically dead guy

Best Film, Actress, Director, Cinematography, Writing: “The Reader”. How is this a shock? The movie is about the Holocaust for Christ sake. The only thing that baffles me is how little love Darren Aronofsky continues to get from the Academy. On top of never getting a best film/director nomination, Ellen Burstyn’s loss to Julia Roberts in 2000 was an atrocity of Titanic proportions, while Clint Mansell’s masterful scores for Requiem for a Dream and The Fountain are awesome enough to sell hundreds of thousands of CDs and be bought for re-use by half the rest of the directors in Hollywood, but not good enough to earn a single nomination nod.

Perhaps if Aronofsky wasn’t just one of those self-avowed “classically hypocritical high holiday Jews”.

Best Original Screenplay:

Nominated: Andrew Stanton, et al, for “WALL-E”

Not: Robert Siegel – “The Wrestler”

(See above)

Oh well, as Werner Herzog once said: “I don’t make films to win awards. Prizes are for dogs and horses.”

A Worthwhile Cause

January 19, 2009 - An honest, up-front educational approach would likely be most effective here, I think, as historical results indicate that preaching abstinence-only would likely increase the frequency of kids fucking their pets.

New Year's Non-Resolutions

January 10, 2009 - The non-existence of free will qualifies the making of New Year’s resolutions a useless endeavor made by dumb (and often fat) people whose brains, corroded by syphilis or atrophied by disuse, are incapable of recognizing the simple absurdity of someone standing against the incredible force of a flood whose collective strength of over 4 billion years of historical universal events is compelling them away from going to the gym on anything approaching a regular basis for more than about three weeks following Christmas. And that is why I, as a reasonably intelligent person, have decided to make the following series of New Year’s non-resolutions (see: a bunch of things I hope or wouldn’t mind doing or not doing, happening or not happening in 2009) in lieu of making idle, futile declarations against the intransigent dispositions of the universe like some kind of clueless, narcissistic shit-for-brains.

• I hope getting opioid pain killers Fedexed to my door remains as easy as ever

• I hope my wife’s boyfriend finally gets a job so they can move out

• I wouldn’t mind seeing Pac Man Jones selling battery-powered helicopters at the mall

• I hope 2009 is the year extraterrestrial life forms finally come to Earth, only I think it would be cool if the duration of the trip aged them so extensively that those who survived all had alien Alzheimer’s, couldn’t remember what the hell they came here for, and instead set about hording the planet’s supply of single serving maple syrup packets

• It would be nice to go a whole month without being awakened by my schizophrenic teenage son punching me repeatedly in the face

• I hope the number of new homeowners eaten by mountain lions rises in 2009

• I would like to go hot air ballooning on a foggy day, come down and find myself in the Jurassic era, surrounded by lusty, large busted cave women

• It’d be cool if the price of cigarettes came down so I could smoke more

• I hope some wild-haired scientist would offer me a ride in his time machine so I can travel to a time when I’m dead

December 24, 2008

An apathetic Christmas to all.

A picture of my boat:

If I had a boat.

Rev. B

Apathetic Comics

December 15, 2008 - I don't know about you, but I can't remember the last time I laughed at anything in the "funny pages". To put it mildly, the tepid, repetitive banality that passes as humor in our newspapers is one of the worst atrocities visited upon modern man. I could do much better, and to prove it, have made a few samples, using old Family Circus panels as templates since I can't draw and am rather lazy.

Seriously, I would read the comics first thing every morning if a strip like this was in the paper.

From the Mailbag

December 7, 2008 - Though it is true that I receive thousands of emails every day, this one in particular stood out. Truly, to know that all my hard work has inspired at least one man to resign his faith in humanity and adopt a disposition of abject indifference to the world makes all my hard work worthwhile.

Dear Reverend Bob,

I am aware that you must receive thousands of e-mails a day and so will probably have no chance to even read this message, let alone reply to it, however, I wanted to let you know how wonderfully enlightening your site has proved for me. Until recently I was a successful businessman, pulling in vast sums of money while raising an adoring family. Within four weeks of discovering your church I lost my business, my home was repossessed, my children joined various terrorist organisations and my wife ran off with an Italian plumber named Mario. So thank goodness, I have found my true, (a)pathetic nature.

It does occur to me though that apathy is the only natural way to live. We don't know much about our lives, but we do know that we are going to die one day - so decay and death are our natural life orbit, if you like, and there is no sense going against the universe. In fact, I think apathy is at the heart of all religion. Isn't Buddhism basically saying that you are born into one useless existence after another, with the goal being to finally stop existing? Didn't Jesus constantly reproach and criticise his own disciples, telling them, in effect, that they weren't worth shit, and then get himself executed in order to exit the world ASAP?

Oh well, best of bad luck with the church.

M. James

Hallelujeh, brother.

Uncle Sam Don't Want Me

November 23, 2008 - Growing increasingly destitute and masochistic after 3 months of frustrating and seemingly futile job hunting since being given the boot by Kraft Foods, I went down to my local army recruiting office in a fit of desperation and self loathing to try to get myself employed as a professional bullet catcher. Whether I live and make a few bucks shooting at Third World people on the other side of the planet or get blown into a million bits and pieces, I considerd it a win-win situation.

No such luck.

"Please be advised that your application for enlistment in the United States Army did not receive favorable consideration by reason of your advanced age" the letter read.

So I can't even get work as cannon fodder. How depressing.

Long Live the Sanctity of Marriage

November 5, 2008 - In the wake of the Prop. 8 ban on gay marriage being passed in California yesterday, please endulge me while I celebrate the preservation of the sanctity of marriage.

Thank the Lord that only heterosexuals should experience the joy of being railroaded into having to choose between a life sentence of misery with someone you despise and relinquishing half your income as a result of a singular contraception malfunction.

Thank God nobody but straight men should watch their spouse gain 60 pounds and have an affair with a black defensive lineman for the local arena football team who you don't dare confront for fear he'd beat you into a bloody soup.

Hallelujah only people who prefer having intercourse with members of the opposite sex should know for certain while lying on their death bed in the hospital that their life partner isn't there not because of some discriminatory, retrogade law, but because they're at home watching As the World Turns and shoveling caramel corn into their face.

Yaay marriage.

Reverse Discrimination

October 27, 2008 - I've heard a lot of bellyaching from the ladies and their lady sympathizers over the years about job discrimination, but in my interminable search for a job, it seems all the best work is always marked for ladies only. For example, this covetable position recently advertised on Craigslist:

I'm looking to hire a female babsitter to watch and look after my wife while I'm at work during the day. She is a handful, amd will try anything. She is in diapers 24/7 and is to be cared for and treated exactly like a baby. This is her punishment for cheating on me.Great pay for the right person Thank you.

Seriously, chicks have all the luck.

Joe the Plumber

October 16, 2008 - WAAAAAAAAH, Obama's tax plan will keep me from being able to buy the plumbing business I've spent 10 to 12 hours a day for the past 15 years snaking shit clogs out of toilet traps for.

The business makes more than $250,000 a year, but somehow an extra 3% tax on top of the existing 36% tax on the marginal income this turd dislodging racket makes over the first quarter mil is going to be a deal breaker for this bald asshole. Boo hoo.

Fuck Joe the Plumber and the Ford F150 he rode in on.

Fuck everybody.

Halloween Scavenger Hunt

October 9, 2008 - Why should kids be the only ones to have fun and get free crap on Halloween? Give the little twerps this neat scavenger hunt to complete while they're out begging for candy, and enjoy the party when they get home!

More Tomorrow

October 8, 2008 - I was planning on posting something today, but I played a drinking game with the debate last night where I had to take a shot of vodka every time McCain said "My friends" or referenced Reagan, and I am huuuung the fuck over. So more tomorrow.

Things I've Learned Since Being Unemployed

October 2, 2008 - The average Neanderthal male stood 5'5", weighed 180 pounds, had an enormous lung capacity, pale skin, freckles, and was at least as clever as a mortgage broker executive.

- Though millions of miles wide, Saturn's rings are only about 50 feet thick.

- Ostriches don't bury their heads in the sand because they are cowards, but to tend to their eggs, which they bury underground.

- Apparently, a lot of American men have trouble achieving erections without pharmaceutical assistance.

- Unresloved question: Are Raiders fans losers because they're Raiders fans, or are they Raiders fans because they're losers? Hmm... that one will require the deep contemplation of someone much more intelligent than I.

Oops...

September 24, 2008 - Sorry for all you guys who bet against me last week - seems like I went 5-1. I don't know what happened, but I'm apologizing all the way to the bank. Ha.

Yes, it seems things might be looking up for ol' Bob. Just Saturday my daughter up and disappeared with her boyfriend. Of course it's only been four days now, but I have to admit I'm getting my hopes up. Who knows, maybe I'll get really lucky and get hit by a bus.

It's That Time of Year Again!

September 17, 2008 - Time for those few who've been lucky enough to discover this hidden treasure of a website and have online gambling accounts to cash in on god's contempt for my soul by betting the opposite of my NFL football picks of the week.

My most recent credentials (in case you might suspect the dark clouds over my head may have cleared since I suffered a financially and emotionally crippling 24-71 gambling record last season): I had San Diego to beat the Broncos straight up. So, sorry Chargers fans for being the mush whose ineffably bad fortune somehow set off an unfathomably intricate cosmic chain reaction that eventually culminated in Ed Hochuli's uncharacteristically odd decision to ref the game "Fear and Loathing Style" by consuming an eigth of shrooms and a quart of rum before kickoff, but perhaps I can make it up to you by having another bad week.

My picks for this week:

Carolina at Minnesota (-3) - Minnesota
Cincinatti at NY Giants (-13.5) - Cincinatti
Tampa Bay at Chicago (-3) - Tampa Bay
New Orleans at Denver (-5.5) - New Orleans
Pittsburgh at Philadelphia (-3) - Philadelphia
Dallas at Green Bay (+3) - Green Bay

A New Low

September 12, 2008 - In the interest of promoting my own self abasement, allow me to share with you something I've begun doing to slow the erosion of my meager life savings now that I am "In between jobs". I have started ghost writing promotions for online travel guides. 400 words each. $40 a pop. Pathetic.

Come visit Bumfuck Tennessee! Take a stroll down San Antonio's World Famous Riverwalk this fall! Travel to Fort Lauderdale for New Year's Eve!

Christ. Why anyone in their right minds would ever want to go to any of these places is beyond me, and they can all go see the devil down in hell for what I care. Talk about a kick in the nuts.

Random Musings of an Unemployed Couch Potato

September 3, 2008 - Proof women are actually as dumb as men: Despite having nothing in common whatsoever other than a pair of X chromosomes, political analysts on CNN are speculating this Sarah Palin twit will actually lure significant amounts of female voters in the swing states by virtue of the singular fact that she's a woman. I mean really ladies, I'm all for giving broads their share of power (Lord knows I don't want it), but Eva Braun had a vagina too, and she used it to fuck Hitler.

Get a life: People who respond to these ads on TV about obtaining legal consultation regarding health issues acquired from using Fen Fen and these other ephedra based diet supplements to lose weight - aren't you just a little tired of being constantly dependent on the assistance of others (i.e. chemists, the FDA, lawyers) to manage your pitiful lives? What if five years ago you simply cut back on the Cheetos, bought yourself a jump rope and got to hopping? Just a thought...

Now if you'll excuse me, The Sopranos is coming on and my chicken pot pie is almost ready.

Fired

August 27, 2008 - Sorry for not posting in awhile, but things have been a bit crazy around the chuurch (otherwise known as the antiquated 512Mhz computer sitting atop a cramped, cheap particle board "desk" inconveniently situated less than five feet from the television my braindead wife and kids somehow manage to keep tuned to one of the hundred episodes of "That 70s Show" they've seen a thousand fucking times, twenty-four hours a day).

I guess you could say my latest foray into the world of wage slavehood came to an abrupt, unceremonious end last Wednesday when a certain email I wrote earned me the ol' heave-ho from this job I had with Kraft Foods. Specifically, the secretary (I refuse to adopt the politically correct term "executive assistant" for a person who answers the phone for a managerial level employee) I referenced in my last post for her affinity for distributing nauseating sentiments to everyone in the department on a near daily basis took offense to my own list of sentiments I bounced back her way. In particular, this little gem got her yahmika in a twist: "Love your friends and neighbors with the same alacrity that drove Hitler to hate and murder the Jews".

Seriously, whoever heard of a Jewish secretary? I tried to defend myself by asking my boss this very question, but it didn't help. He told me that he assumed there are lots of Jewish executive assistants, for instance his own, and that her job title is executive assistant, not secretary, which prompted me to remind him that he is not an executive.

The good news is that I got my unused vacation time paid out, but the bad news is that I only worked there 16 months and only had 49 unused vacation hours, meaning I have about 90 minutes of paid vacation time left before the cost of the goddamn satellite TV and the truckloads of groceries my family shovel down their throats every day starts coming out of my meager savings.

Maybe I'll tell my daughter hit the road. She just turned 18 - let some other sucker buy the cratefuls of Bagel Bites that monster puts away when she's not busy cramming her IMac's hard drive full of that stupid goth bullshit poetry. I've had it.

Honest Sentiments for Sappy Secretaries

August 8, 2008 - If you're like me, you've had at least one job in an office with a bat shit crazy secretary who was fond of forwarding emails full of schmaltzy sentiments like, "A smile from a friend is like a wink from an angel", and, "Until they start taxing hugs, the gift of love will always be free!"

If it wasn't for the fact that most of these women haven't had their period since embarrassing themselves at a hula-hoop competition, they should all be spayed.

The following are some much more honest sentiments you can shoot back the next time one of these demented old coots drops a lump of gooey claptrap in your inbox:

- Good friends are like four leaf clovers. You think you’ve found something that’s one of a kind until you notice that it’s really just a torn three leaf clover in bed with your slut of a wife.

- There's a reason even whores will give away hugs for free. They're worthless.

- When I die, when God is finally done torturing me on this blue hell-rock, bury me upside down so he can kiss my ass.

- I dream that I am drowning in a cold, dark sea. The nightmare begins when I wake up.

- Let’s start a “Happy Olympics” where everyone can play and everyone is a winner! There could be a hug-a-thon, free-smile swimming, track and sharing, and all the medals could have fucking hearts on them.

- If God had a playbook, the cover would read: "How to Fuck Bob".

- Happiness is fleeting, but death is forever.

- Praying to God is like soliciting a Hell's Angel for a blow job. Either way, you're asking for trouble.

- Love is actually a one-way street - straight to hell.

Help, My Husband's a Non-Conformo!

August 1, 2008 - Somehow I found myself perusing one of these advice columns retarded people read while taking a dump as I was moving my bowels this morning (I forget which one since I can't keep these new ones straight anymore since Abby and Ann both dropped dead, so for the sake of this blog I'll appoint her a pseudonym inspired by her physical appearance).

So anyway, this lady writes Dear Hoity-Toity Cuntface about how her fireman husband's hobby of getting plastered and playing video games on his days off, and though he's quite the pleasant drunk and never drinks on days he's on the job, she's all worked up over it and wants to know what she should do - to which Hoity-Toity Cuntface advises her that she should encourage him to get help, as the combination of his stressful occupation and alcohol consumption - which she theorizes he might be using as a coping mechanism for his stressful job - is a recipe for disaster.

Am I missing something, or is there something really inherently wrong with getting fucked up and playing a little Madden? After all, getting drunk is fun, and video games are fun, so to me, putting them together sounds less like a recipe for disaster than a formula for an enjoyable afternoon.

But of course to all the healthy, wholesome have-the-world-all-figured-out to the point of being deemed by the preeminent powers that be to be qualified to write columns telling others how they should be living their lives Hoity-Toity Cuntfaces out there, I am wrong. This man doesn't conform to the criteria of a salubrious husband who spends every spare moment holding his wife's hand through Jennifer Anniston movies or building soapbox racers with Junior in the garage, so there must be something wrong with him. He doesn't conform, hence needs help.

Balderdash.

I propose that people who don't get fucked up from time to time in this world are the ones who have something wrong with them. I mean Christ, just look around. And so what if I, hypothetically speaking as a for instance, like to pay a fat woman in rubber pants a good sum of money to kick me in the balls on a weekly basis? Happiness is all relative, so if I like it, what the fuck? Beat life to the punch, save your dignity. That's my motto (hypothetically).

Ruminations on Dr. Phil

July 24, 2008 - Not that I watch that big tub of lard or anything, but whenever I happen to catch a few moments of the Dr. Phil Show on my way to something else, I'm left stumped. Specifically, it seems every installment of this program is devoted to Phil and his audience ganging up on some screwball for picking on his fat wife for on a daily basis for being fat.

Take last night, for instance. This nincompoop was on the show describing in quite casual terms how his wife's lack of discretion and skill in the realm of personal cosmetic appliance combined with her seemingly innate reluctance to exercise or moderate her diet has caused her general appearance to come to conform to the general criteria collective society has agreed constitutes a fat slut - a development which has compelled him to adopt an ill-conceived campaign of childish name-calling and ridicule ostensibly intended to inspire her to look less like a disgusting pig for her "own good".

For who own good? It's obvious this jerk doesn't love this broad, so what does he care? My wife looks like a slut and has put on a bunch of weight in the last couple of years, but that doesn't bother me. I say let the men she's having sex with worry about it.

If Dr. Phil had any idea of what the fuck he was doing, he'd shitcan all the PC counseling mumbo-jumbo and just tell this nitwit to get a hobby. "Three words, bud: 'Get a fucking hobby'."

Show over.

Only Morons and Hot Chicks I'd Love to Have Sex With but Never Will Go to the Beach

July 15, 2008 - Ah, summer. What is it that makes this four months of the year so appealing to so many? It's hot and humid, every fucking bug that's not yet extinct and even some that have been for as long as ten million years ooze from their subterranean sacks to form great big biblical swarms of pestilent aggravation, fireworks suck (as was already covered), getting up to go to work while your shiftless, worthless kids sleep in until The Price is Right makes the morning time that much more shitty, and of course, there's the beach.

If it were up to me, I'd never go to the beach, but for some reason I've been compelled by unconscious forces apparently stronger than my own good sense to associate myself with other human beings who are fond of it throughout my lifetime, one of whom I ignorantly impregnated more than once with additional beach loving spawn.

And so I go. And I sit on my small patch of dirt and watch small children stand in the tide up to their ankles and run screaming every time a 2 inch tall wave rolls in. For four straight hours. And I look on incredulous as a hamlet-sized population of fat, pasty tourists shovel back enough Subway footlongs and sacks of Doritos to feed half of Zimbabwe for a year as a parade of hot, bikini clad chicks half my age saunter endlessly by, prompting me to think of how great it would be to have sex with them, and that I never will, prompting me to realize that of all the morons on the beach, I'm the most miserable.

Yay.

I Could Watch Fireworks Every Fucking Day of my Worthless Life

July 8, 2008 - Have a nice 4th of July? I know I did; because, like every other 185th day of the calendar year, I left my relatively uncongested, comfortable, pollution free living room conveniently located just a few short steps from a feast's worth of chilled, already bought food to drive the fruit of my loins and the woman who bore them (and now just bores me) to the most crowded square mile patch of earth in town to breathe in the toxic fumes of a bunch of sparkly explosions in the sky.

Weee.

Like me, you've probably seen a fireworks show about 2,456,098 times in your life and know that, regardless of how repetitive and stupid the whole phenomenon might seem on the surface, you can't help but sing, "Ooooh!" and, "Aaaaah!" like a total moron at each and every one of the colorful bursts of crap in the sky, so I'll dispense with the longwinded description.

So yeah, I had fishloads of fun. It was a real blast (bad pun intended, you sheep-minded assholes).

George Carlin's 15 Rules to Live By

July 1, 2008 - This is pretty much all you need to know.

1. Relax and take it easy. Don’t get caught up in hollow conceits such as “doing something with your life.” Such twaddle is outmoded and a sure formula for disappointment.

2. Whatever it is you pursue, try to do it just well enough to remain in the middle third of the field. Keep your thoughts and ideas to yourself and don’t ask questions. Remember, the squeaky wheel is the first one to be replaced.

3. Size people up quickly, and develop rigid attitudes based on your first impression. If you try to delve deeper and get to “know” people, you’re asking for trouble.

The Rest >

Solve the Riddle, Win a Prize -

June 27, 2008 - So I need a new job, only instead of looking for one or taking time to polish up the ol' resume I wrote this stupid riddle instead. Be the first one to solve it and I'll send you 1,000 of something.

Detective Sam Shade paid a visit to the home of the prime suspect in a daring mid-day fish market robbery. Upon knocking on the door, Sam noted that it took an exorbitant amount of time for the suspect to answer. Sam eventually attributed this to the suspect’s waddling gait which he suspected was being exaggerated. Acting as if he had nothing to hide, the suspect invited Detective Shade to come in out of the heat of the afternoon and offered him some iced-tea, which Sam accepted before getting down to business.

“Where were you at 1pm this afternoon?” Sam asked.

Looking as innocent and baffled as possible, the suspect replied, “Why, I was out being fitted for a new tuxedo for my friend’s wedding.”

“AHA! I’ve caught you now!” Sam exclaimed triumphantly.

How did Detective Shade know the suspect was lying?

Tiger Woods Embiggens Us All

June 19, 2008 - Allow me to preface this by saying that golf isn't much of a sport. Not so much for the usual reasons most people cite - its leisurely pace or participants pudgy bellies - but more for the prohibitive cost that stands in the way of someone other than rich white kids (and the occassional anomalous rich black kid) getting good enough to go pro at it. Let it suffice to suggest that if a decent pair of golf clubs cost twenty bucks and there were something other than the kind of course where a rented putter is all that's required for play and self defense from the crackheads living inside the dilapidated Dutch windmill in South Central, Tiger Woods wouldn't be the only brother out there on the links.

That being said, I found myself actually tuning in for large chunks of that big golf thing this last weekend. Watching Tiger perservere through the pain of his injured knee while I sat on my ass caused me to smile on the inside while my mouth was otherwise occupied with the handfuls of the cheddar baked potato potato chips I was shoveling into it, and I reflected upon the theory of the holistic nature of the universe that contends that we're all one and the same - an entity sharing a common collective consciousness which is experiencing itself subjectively through billions of pairs of different eyes.

So here's to you, Tiger. Your indefatigable spirit and accomplishments more than compensate for my life of mediocrity and who-gives-a-shit attitude.

Kill the Stupid

June 10, 2008 - As I wait in line at the gas station with the rest of the junkies for my weekly butt rape, it becomes more poignant than ever that almost all of the biggest problems facing the human race today are directly attributable to there being way too many humans alive all at once.

Of course Malthus and anyone with half a working brain knows that disease, war and starvation will eventually cull the herd, but what else can we do to get a gallon of gas back below $2 and free up some sand at the beach? State enforced mandatory birth control is a boring idea already used by the Chinese, so fuck that.

No sir, in America we champion freedom (or at least our leaders pretend to in order to get us to do what we want), so an ideal all-American solution to this problem shouldn't involve instituting new laws, but aboloshing old ones - in particular the ones that require drivers to wear seat belts, drive at or below a certain rate of speed, and constantly adjust their lives to the arbitrary whim of inanimate traffic lights.

This is a good idea. Not only would the increase in car wrecks reduce the population and be an excellent source of entertainment, it would disproportianately affect the enormous and enormously stupid 'I either think I'm some kind of NASCAR racecar driver or else I'm too dumb to realize the place I'm going isn't really worth rushing to at 120 MPH' asshole segment of the population that most needs paring down while smart people would stay off the road - cutting further the total emmission of greenhouse gasses.

But naturally nobody listens to me. Instead of "Seatbelts are for Pussies", my government is spending part of the other 99% it doesn't spend on education to smarten all the shitheads in this country up to help insure they don't remove themselves from the gene pool with their new "Click-it or Ticket" campaign. Evidently there's some kind of value to having a lot of fucktards comprise your phony democracy.

The Bravery Are Nothing But Cowardly Thieving Hack-Whores

May 30, 2008 - So I was enjoying my daily 45 minute smog-slog of a commute home the other day, desperately trying to find something worth listening to on the commercial inundated, mediocrity laden vehicle for corporate payola known as regular radio since the crapping out of my second Sirius radio in three years last week, when I happened upon a certain new song that, at first, sounded like a cover of an old song I like, only I couldn't put my finger on which one. Before long, I realized it wasn't a cover, but a rip-off, only I still couldn't identify the victim. Until today.

The perpetrator: The Bravery, with "Believe"

The victims: The Meat Puppets "Plateau"

The evidence: The Cowards shitty new song (and yes, I'm only referring to the verses): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6G7ZLaiPxu0

vs. The Meat Puppets awesome old song (performed by Nirvana - Unplugged): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2hBkt-CnAv0

Final Analysis: The Meat Puppets rule, The Cowards drool.

A One Word Review of "Indiana Jones And The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull"

May 26, 2008 - Shitty.

Not descriptive enough? How about: Horribly shitty.

Think I'm not being fair? Well, granted, there were parts that were pretty funny. Just ask the teenage relation of mine whose interest in seeing this film was the only reason I saw it in the first place - she couldn't stop laughing at some of the more hackneyed pieces of dialogue and absurd plot twists. Only they weren't supposed to be funny, and being the sensitive person she is, was mortified by her giggly affliction, lest some of those seated around us were actually enjoying the film on anything more than the level of depraved fascination that causes traffic to slow as it creeps by the bloody, metallic wreckage of a highway deathpile.

Teenagers. I told this one she wouldn't be laughing if she'd paid the $11.50 to see this abomination.

The 20 Best Movies You've Probably Never Seen or Possibly Even Heard of

May 16, 2008 - Are you the type of person who, upon learning from the weekend box office report that the latest CGI-laden remake of some lame 70s cartoon was
trounced by the latest 90-minute product placement parade cloaked in the latex of a 60s comic book superhero battling terrorists, or super bugs, terrorist super bugs, or bugs programmed by slightly less super (thank God) terrorists, while barely edging out a movie starring two of the most ignorant, irritating people on the face of the planet getting married in a drunken haze of irritating ignorance in Las Vegas and think to yourself, "Well, that's justified"?

If so, good for you. If only all of us were fortunate enough to be so dumb.

If not, being the narcissist that I am, I thought I'd share with you a
list of the best 20 movies (or "films" as us pretentious twats prefer to
say), that you've likely never seen or possibly even heard of.
(Unfortunately for many of you who have an aversion to reading subtitles, or reading in general, many of these are foreign films - mostly because 90% of the movies made in Hollywood anymore are utter pigshit).

Check 'em out, and never say I never did anything for you.

1. After the Wedding - Bier
2. Brothers - Bier
3. Underground - Kustarica
4. Time of the Gypsies - Kustarica
5. The Celebration - Vinterburg
6. The Green Butchers - Jensen
7. Man Bites Dog - Belvaux
8. Once Were Warriors - Tamahori
9. Lilya 4-Ever - Moodysson
10. The Proposition - Hillcoat
11. Benny's Video - Haneke
12. Seventh Continent - Haneke
13. Funny Games (the original) - Haneke
14. Husbands and Wives - Allen
15. Visitor Q - Miike
16. My Best Fiend: Klaus Kinski - Herzog
17. Volver - Almodovar
18. Irreversible - Noe
19. The Assassination of Richard Nixon - Mueller
20. The Edukators - Weingartner

Another Satisfied Customer

May 1, 2008 - I received the following letter from a deeply troubled young man, and using my worthless skills as a meaningless life coach, likely didn't help him him one bit. Thought I'd share:

Father,

I is young man frmo Turkey and is Christian for 7 years now in the reborn method. I have big problem maybe you help me as life coach?

I marry woman 5 years ago because my priest say to me that I must get married. But I don't like woman. I want to have sex with a man. I know its wrong but I only feel sexy with men. I know its a sin but what can I do. I pray to God to make me have sex with my wife but I still want only men. Please help me.

I also feel very bad about myself. I feel I am very ugly when I look in mirror. I cry everyday. Why am I ugly God, why am I a gay. I also sometimes hit my wife and say she is fat bitch, slut. Why am I like this? Can you help?

- Agmat

Dear Agmat,

The bad news is that God carefully arranged all the events preceding your direful birth to make you this way simply to satisfy his sick, juvenile sense of humor. The good news is that he has allowed you to contact me seeking help, possibly signalling that you are not meant to suffer like this your entire life - should you heed my advice.

First, so you're queer. So what? It's okay to be gay. In fact, if you're as ugly as you say, being gay could be a blessing since guys have lower standards in that regard and tend not to face one another when they're fucking. Secondly, though I must refrain from condoning your beating your wife for legal reasons, I can't say as though I blame you from the sound of her.

Lastly, and most importantly, leave that church with its pedarist, hypocrite priest and join the Chuurch of Apathy, where you can smoke as much pole as you like. We couldn't care less.

- Bob

Denounce Me? I Will Denounce You!

April 29, 2008 - Just a warning to any of you who might someday get it in your dumb head to run for president: Should whatever past affiliation with this church bring you negative publicity and scorn from the millions of nitwits in this country your newfound ambition has obligated you to suck the collective ass of, I will not go down without a fight, and I will fight my hardest to bring you down with me.

Sure, there's hope. And there's a bushy-bearded god in the sky who loves you. Yeah, and the United States isn't an imperialistic country whose legacy of imperialism doesn't have at least something to with it being the biggest target of terrorism on the planet, doesn't import drugs and export guns and trained killers, put more black kids in prison than college, and never conducted radiation experiments on its own citizens.

Ooh, look at me! I want to be President of the United States!

More like king of the shitheads.

You Are All Being Punished

April 22, 2008 - I just got back from checking my web stats, and I must say that I am not happy. This site is still not even averaging 500 page reads a day, and it is all your fault. I considered the possibility that I was to blame, that maybe the content of this site isn't as ridiculously awesome as I think it is, but an abrupt shift back to reality quickly disabused me of this fallacious notion.

The truth is, it is your insolence, your lack of loyalty, and most of all your laziness that is behind my stagnant traffic stats. Instead of posting links to these pearls of html wisdom all over God's green cyberspace, you're sitting on your ass, scratching your balls (or vaginas), and letting me the fuck down.

In light of this little ongoing problem, I am punishing all you by posting this little blurb about hemorrhoids in lieu of a new blog entry. I sincerely hope I don't inadvertently help any of you assbleeders.

Your Hemorrhoids and You - The term hemorrhoids refers to a condition in which the veins around the anus or lower rectum are swollen and inflamed. The most common symptom of internal hemorrhoids is bright red blood covering the stool, on toilet paper, or in the toilet bowl. However, an internal hemorrhoid may protrude through the anus outside the body, becoming irritated and painful. This is known as a protruding hemorrhoid.

Symptoms of external hemorrhoids may include painful swelling or a hard lump around the anus that results when a blood clot forms. This condition is known as a thrombosed external hemorrhoid.

In addition, excessive straining, rubbing, or cleaning around the anus may cause irritation with bleeding and/or itching, which may produce a vicious cycle of symptoms. Draining mucus may also cause itching.

Jerks.

I Popped The Question During The Game, And She Said...

April 15, 2008 - Browsing the internet the other day, I happened upon another story about one of these guys who got down on one knee in front of 30,000 people at a major sporting event to profess his undying love to his blushing girlfriend and ask for her hand in marriage. She said yes, and I was inspired in the way most people are inspired anymore - by seeing someone else doing something they ripped off from someone else to rip off themselves and recylce for the millionth time in order to obtain some desired end they're too lazy or uncreative to think of a new, original approach to achieving.

So anyway, while watching the Dodgers game at home on my couch, I yelled into the kitchen where my wife was putting away some dishes or just intentionally slamming and banging and making shitloads of noise just to annoy me and asked for a divorce, but she said no.

So, figuring that the missing component was the 30,000 people - after all, with that many eyes and ears waiting to hear the answer everyone's expecting and hopes to hear, it's near impossible to say no, I thought about calling Dodger Stadium to make a few inquiries, but realized there'd be no chance in hell my wife would ever go with me to the game even if the Dodger brass would go for it, so I said fuck it. Moving's a huge hassle anyway.

I Have Seen The Light

April 1, 2008 - Some of you who have grown fond of checking this page from time to time to derive some sort of depraved amusement from the terrible calamity that is my life might be disappointed to hear this, but things are suddenly looking up, and I believe my days of kvetching on this stupid website are over.

It all happened this morning. I don't know if it was the way the sun was shining or the way the birds were chirping, but I had what some people choose to call an epiphany rather than a revelation in order to look smart. The words of a man who recently sent me a seven page email detailing how certain paradigm shifts could turn my life around suddenly fresh in my mind as if they were the subtitles of a lucid dream from which I'd just awoke, I felt reborn.

I now realise that not only is my life not all that bad, but that I have the freedom, and yes, the potential, to make it much better thanks to the God I know not only does exist, but loves me.

Rolling over to gaze upon my overweight wife as she continued to snore like a baby moose, her agape mouth strung with saliva like a trap for catching flies to sustain her insatiable appetite during her dormant hours, I even felt a tinge of something approaching affection.

Happy April Fool's Day.

Please Take Your Muscular Dystrophy Shamrock And Kindly Shove It Up Your Ass

March 25, 2008 - Although I don't completely dismiss the possibility that people with Muscular Dystrophy are the rightful heirs of the crippling genetic defects they suffer from as a result of some karmic retribution for a previous lifetime spent raping old ladies or being Mormon, I have nothing against them, per se.

What does bug me, however, is the fact that, for the past six weeks I can't seem to go to the grocery store, drug mart, gas station or fast food joint without being asked if I want to give a dollar to Jerry's Kids in exchange for a paper shamrock bearing my name to be displayed on some wall amongst a bunch of other cretins who were too spineless to look their swindling tool functionary in the eye and announce loud and proud for everyone else in line behind them, "No, I would not care to give one red penny. Fuck Jerry, and fuck those granny raping Mormons!"

Yeah, they wouldn't see that coming. From the looks of things, it seems their sleazy, emotionally coercive bullshit fundraising scheme is paying off just as they drew it up - put people on the spot in front of a small group of their fellow consumers, ask if they wouldn't mind giving one measly dollar to help ease the suffering of a bunch of horribly afflicted children, and watch the cash roll in. Well, fuck that. Especially when it's a dozen times a week. I pay my taxes, and I didn't vote for Bush, so let all those morons who enabled him to toss $2 trillion into the big gaping stinkhole that is Iraq pony up for that shit, because I gave online.

Or, at least that's what I tell the checkers at the store. Sadly, I don't have the balls to say that other thing.

Famous Last Words

March 12, 2008 - A lot of people have died over the 30,000 years or so since man evolved from the apes, but few, whether it be for a lack of imagination, coherence, or fame, made much of an impression with the final words they uttered before succumbing to the great unknown.

Indeed, for every Oscar Wilde who quipped lastly, “Either those drapes go, or I do,” Voltaire, who, encouraged by a priest to denounce Satan in his dying moments, chided him: “Now, now, my good man, this is no time for making enemies,” there are probably a billion others who say something entirely forgettable, like, “You shot me”, or, “Garrrgh.”

I don’t want to go out like that.

So, I’ve been thinking about what I want my famous last words to be, only to encounter the same standard aggravation that every other endeavor seems to engender on this planet. For instance, it seems some gay British filmmaker named Derek Jarman already used my phrase of choice, “I want the world to be filled with white fluffy duckies,” before dying of AIDS, and though I’d love to have the casual observation, “That seems like a rather friendly tiger” be my last words before clambering into the tiger exhibit at the zoo to have my essence become assimilated by an animal of such majesty and grace, I fear my actions would precipitate the peremptory destruction of the beast’s life by the morons who work there.

Oh, who am I kidding? I’ll probably end up getting creamed by a speeding SUV anyway.

From the Inbox: Fan Mail

March 5, 2008 - Contrary to what you might believe, this site does receive the occasional email, not all of which is entirely negative. A sampling:

If Everything sucks why don't you just end your own life, and quit
promoting your own brand of poison.

Do you honestly have a good reason why you haven't done us the favor yet?

Kyle D.

-----------

Reverend my ass!

Anyone who operates in the shadows and does not give their full name and location IS the true DEVIL!

Fuck you back to hell you bitch!

Rob H.

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

After wasting 5 minutes of my life checking out your website, I can say with the utmost certainty that the world will be a better place the day you die.

Fuck you.

Paul T.

Thanks guys! Keep 'em coming! - Bob

Random Ruminations on Recent International Events of Import

February 22, 2008 – So with Fidel Castro stepping down, I guess the people of Cuba are one step closer to passing through the pearly gates and golden arches of the western world. Cheeseburgers! Coca-Cola! 60 hour work weeks! Gated communities populated by neighbors who only speak to one another when the lights go out! Oh boy! That is, that might be the case for the average Cuban if they lived in a country that was at the top of the food chain like all of us lucky enough to have been born in the United States. As it is, if Wall Street gets its way, Cuba could look forward to becoming like their neighbor Haiti – a floating labor camp run by Wal-Mart and governed by a mass murderer trained to get on his knees and lick Condoleezza Rice’s snatch at the snap of her fingers. Fuck those cheering idiots in Miami. There’s no such thing as freedom in a capitalist country if you’re broke, so either these assholes are still sitting on a nice little nest egg of casino money from the 50s, or they’ve been watching too much CNN.

Speaking of freedom and democracy, congratulations to Kosovo, the world’s newest country since Montenegro also split from Serbia in 2006 (seems nobody really wants anything to do with those guys – I can only wonder why). Let’s just hope they meet some nice new countries and don’t start talking about getting back together with Serbia six months from now, arguing that their abusive former republic has changed and that no two states could love each other as much as them.

Then there’s Pakistan. In a country whose high rate of illiteracy compels the government to turn their ballots into the political equivalent of a Denny’s menu by using pictograms like bicycles and candles to represent the main parties, President Musharraf was reportedly upset when he found out his party’s picture had been downgraded from ferocious tiger to pussy cat. And this country has the bomb. What a world we live in.

My Gnome is Home, a Homo

February 12, 2008 - As you can see from the headline, my wayward garden gnome (apparently named) Donald (see full blog for the whole saga) has come home. Perched upon my doorstep, the little bastard held in the crook of his arm a dishonorable discharge notice from the Army listing "Illicit Homosexual Activity" as the cause of his release, but I know this to be utter bullshit. Not just because I've never heard of an asexual lawn decoration being gay before, or would have something against my ceramic garden supervisor taking it up the rear, but because I know for a fact that the military is so desperate for cannon fodder these days that you could get caught blowing a four star general's half-retarded brother in the shithouse and not get sent home from Iraq. So nice try guys.

Stolen Gnome Update:

February 5, 2008: Again, as some of you know already, some godless lowlife stole my garden gnome and is sending me correspondence in his name from his supposed travels. The latest:

Bob,

Last week, while meditating near the Pyramid of Khufu at Giza, I came to the decision that it was high time I give something back to my adoptive country for all she's done and provided for me. As you can probably tell, this epiphany has led me to Iraq, where, to my mild surprise, the Army accepted my offer of service on the spot and assigned me to an infantry platoon near Karbala.

Now I know your position on the war differs from my own, but I hope you don't begrudge me my chosen course. Although I concede that the objectives and means chosen to achieve them in this war are foggier than others, I am firm in my conviction that I am doing the right thing, and that however small my contribution, the virtues of freedom and democracy are being served.

Have to go now, it's scorpion death match night.

Please don't worry,

Donald

My Pick For The Big Game

January 30, 2008 - I know you've all been waiting for my Super Bowl pick, and I apologize for the delay, but a game of this magnitude takes a lot more time to ruminate on as far as all the ins and outs, X's and O's, strategies and counter-strategies, strengths and weaknesses, mental, emotional, physical, metaphysical and astronomical factors that constitute the intricate web of football analysis one must navigate to pick the wrong team, but I've finally done it, and that team's the Giants, so give the points and take the Patriots, because I've got $50 on New York.

Update: Trust me. I'm as surprised as you. Naturally, just my luck I didn't take the moneyline...

If There Was An Anti-Viagra Pill, I'd Take It

January 24, 2008 - If it wasn't for my penis, I wouldn't be married or have two of the worst children ever conceived. My penis has ruined my life. In my dreams, it mocks me. In my waking hours I swear sometimes I can hear it giggling down there. My penis is an evil penis, and yet no matter how hard I resist, it maintains an undue amount of influence over my life.

Last week while channel surfing, I went by one of those scrambled porn stations when my penis perks up and starts nagging me to jerk him off. I try to argue the ridiculousness of the thing since, despite being able to hear the audio okay, you can barely make anything out through all those jumping lines, and what flesh you can see is tinted psychedelic colors, but as usual I gave in knowing that if I didn't he wouldn't leave me alone.

So after a few minutes of rubbing him down, I realize I'm whacking off to two guys humping. The lack of a female voice didn't give it away during the obligatory blow job lead-up since her mouth would've been full, and I don't know, I guess when the two started to fuck I maybe subconsciously assumed that two men were double-teaming a mute chick, but then the picture cleared and I kicked so hard that I almost broke my foot on the coffee table. Swear to god, I didn't even know they showed that stuff anywhere on cable - pay per view or not.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure masturbating to gay porn doesn't make you gay if it was an accident, but I'm still pretty pissed about the whole thing. Seriously, why these douche bags with "erectile dysfunction" or whatever don't appreciate their blessing and actually pay good money to throw it all away is beyond me.

More Free Money

January 16, 2008 - In case you don't know the drill by now, this is how it works: I, being the cursed, miserable, luckless motherfucker that I am, share the teams I'm betting my hard earned money on in the big games this weekend, you bet the opposite, cash in, then come back here Monday to laugh at my update vainly hoping you die.

San Diego (+14) vs. New England - New England
NY Giants (+7) vs. Green Bay - New York

And I hope you all die in advance.

Update - 1-21-08: HA! I won one! Eat me.

Monday Morning Blues

January 7, 2008 - This morning, like so many other Monday mornings that have preceded it, I woke up feeling pretty rotten. Another weekend full of torment and defeat in my rearview mirror and a full five day work week of degradation and anguish staring me in the face, I cowered beneath the sheets, contemplating my options. The idea of making love to my wife one more time before blowing my brains out occurred to me, but then it dawned on me that she wouldn't let me fuck her even if I really wanted to, which I really don't, and that I don't own a gun. So I thought maybe I'd just jack off and stick my head in the oven, but my wife was in the bedroom, my daughter was in the bathroom and my son was in the kitchen, so I said the hell with it and just went to work.

Can't Win NFL Playoff Picks

January 2, 2008 - In the spirit of holiday goodwill, and in light of my record of ignominious ineptitude in the field of sports gambling that has cost me a small fortune in recent years (see blog entry from 11-14), I thought I'd share my picks for this weekend's NFL wild card matchups. Simply bet the opposite and watch the money roll in.

Washington (+3.5) at Seattle - Washington
Jacksonville (-2) at Pittsburgh - Jacksonville
NY Giants (+3) at Tampa Bay - Tampa Bay
Tennessee (+9) at San Diego - Tennessee

Update 1-07-08: Enjoy your money, assholes.

Apparently I’m Quite Good in Bed

December 19, 2007 - So I had quite the fascinating encounter yesterday when I ran into the guy who recently bought the house next door to mine at the 7-11 down the street. He had a sheepish look on his face which I at first attributed to the fact that neither of us had bothered to introduce ourselves to each other since he moved in three weeks ago, but that wasn’t it.

It’s kind of a ticklish situation, he says, his voice lowering to insure discretion before getting to what was on his mind, “But your bedroom seems to be right across the way from my 8 year-old daughter’s room, and I was just sort of wondering if you and your wife could keep the volume of your love making down a little, or at least just tug that window shut before, well, you know...”

So I told the guy 'sure thing' and apologized, though I haven’t had sex with my wife in nearly two months.

Merry Christmas! - Bob

Meteor Showers are Stupid

December 13, 2007 - So the obligatory piece of ass on my local news channel informed me last night that tonight will be the night for the latest big meteor shower. She said it should be the most magnificent nocturnal astronomical spectacle of its kind this year. Big deal. That's like saying the last time I made whoopie with my wife was the best sex I had in the past year simply by virtue of the fact that it was slightly less boring, no more pointless and involved less complaining from a member of my family than the other four times I've mounted her in the past twelve months.

Meteor showers are stupid. Why would anyone in their right mind leave the house to go see a bunch of alien turds streak across the sky? For starters, in case you haven't noticed or live in the southern hemisphere, it's fucking cold out there. And nonetheless, millions of idiots will do just that, even drive dozens of miles to escape the city lights to watch singular white dots move across a black background every ten minutes or so. Well count me out. If you need me I'll be on my couch watching Deal or No Deal, because the only thing that gives my flagging ego more of a boost than impugning the intelligence of perfect strangers with differing viewpoints than mine by calling them idiots on the internet is calling those idiots they filter from pools of lesser idiots who might not act like as big of idiots on that idiotic TV show idiots while I gorge my fat ass with about a pound of Nacho Cheese Combos.

Stolen Garden Gnome Update -

December 5, 2007 - As some of you already know, some spineless puke stole my garden gnome and is sending me correspondence in his name from his supposed travels. The latest:

Greetings from...

Egypt!

Yes, the glitz and glamor of Las Vegas was fine and good for a couple of days, but after five, it got really old. Especially considering the fact that there is in actuality a lot more fat, buffet fed, dead-eyed chain smoking retired telephone operators squandering their meager pensions down the greedy maw of a slot machine one quarter at a time within dying distance of drunken used car dealers haggling with prostitutes than glitz and glamor anyway. And all the phony facades and recreations of the world's most venerable places were sort of cute, but really they just fed my desire to see the real things in all of their glory, not as cheap facades on the boardwalk of some tacky Disneyland for the physically mature yet mentally and spiritually arrested. Balls!

So yes, given the options the various hotels along the strip brought to mind - Paris, New York, Venice, Egypt, pirate ships or outer space, I went with the oldest and most spiritual. Fuck it's hot though. And me without sweat glands.

Donald

My Boss Probably Thinks I’m A Heroin Addict of Some Kind by Now

November 30, 2007 - Warning: The following blog entry contains graphic descriptions of bodily functions some might find unnerving.

A contributing factor to my somewhat petulant disposition towards life is the fact that I developed hemorrhoids a couple years ago, and as anyone afflicted with this malady can attest, it is absolutely impossible to project a cheerful demeanor to the scum sucking godless world during an outbreak of these piles. There’s nothing funny about them, which is why it’s a damn good thing I’ve mastered a few tricks for keeping the beasts mostly at bay. Primarily, after making a number 2, my anus is a little stubborn about going back inside its cave, which is bad because, when it comes to buttholes, the open air is what turns cute little Gizmos into Gremlins. So after months of giving them the bum’s rush with my finger, which always proves to be a savage fight, I discovered that I could coax the little fuckers back into their nest simply by lying flat on my back for a minute or two.

Which is exactly what I was up to during an unscheduled away-field dump in the handicapped stall (because it’s long enough to stretch out in) at work this afternoon. Only I guess I was a little too tired and got a little too comfortable there on the floor that I fell asleep, to be awakened some time later by the voice of my boss shouting my name. Utterly bewildered, he asked me what I was doing sleeping on the bathroom floor. I told him it was a “long story”, and taking advantage of his temporary discombobulation, got the hell out of there without further explanation.

So on top of my laid back approach to work, his witnessing me vomit into a grocery bag in my car a couple of weeks ago, and now this, my boss probably thinks I’m some kind of heroin addict by now, which could be a problem. Employers tend not to look upon the abuse of hard drugs by members of their staff too favorably, so I’m thinking about actually telling him the truth. Not about the vomiting, since that was actually brought on by a combination of herbal acid and beer the night before, just the roids.

At Least Five Things You Have To Be Thankful For If You Have Any Brains

November 21, 2007 - If you have any brains at all you bet the farm against the football teams I picked to cover last week (see entry below), and have five things to be grateful for on this eve of Thanksgiving after I, in typical fashion, only managed to pick two winners out of nine (with 2 pushes). Add to that the likely fact your garden gnome wasn't recently stolen by some dickless finger-sniffing jackass who keeps sending you stupid emails with plainly photoshopped pictures depicting the "travels" of said gnome, and that's another thing. As for me, I have no brains and six things to be pissed about.

Get Your Free Money Here!

November 14, 2007 - They say that when it comes to gambling you can’t beat the house, and nobody can attest to the validity of this general truism more emphatically than me. According to my most recent account statement on the online sportsbook I patronize, I’ve gone 17-52 on the NFL games I’ve wagered on so far this season – a debacle that, however shocking in its defiance of common metaphysical decency as well as all the most fundamental principles that govern the universe on its way to scorching a $550 hole in my bank account, is dwarfed by the fact that my cumulative record since signing up in 2005 is 55-204.

So in keeping with my philanthropic nature, I thought I’d share with you my super-duper can’t-win, non-lock picks of the week for this coming Sunday and Monday. Just pick the opposite, and you’re sure to win big. As for me, don’t worry – if I keep losing my wife might leave me, whereas if I don’t, not only will I still be poor, I’ll still be married.

Kansas City (+14.5) at Indianapolis – Kansas City
Oakland (+5.5) at Minnesota – Oakland
Cleveland (-3) at Baltimore – Baltimore
Arizona (+3.5) at Cincinnati - Cincinnati
Miami (+10) at Philadelphia – Miami
NY Giants (-3) at Detroit – Detroit
Washington (+10.5) at Dallas – Dallas
New England (-15.5) at Buffalo – Buffalo

Monday Night: Tennessee (+2) at Denver - Denver

A Halloween Dilemma

November 1, 2007 - Despite living in a neighborhood full of children, fewer and fewer trick-or-treaters came to my door the first several years I lived in my current home until the year 2003 - the first Halloween we received none at all. Now, I don't dislike children, not all children anyway, but I will say that I haven't minded not having to buy candy or being rousted off the couch every two minutes by a parade of cheap dimestore Harry Potter imposters and 12 year-old hookers the past few October 31sts. In fact, I've gotten a bit used to it, which is why I was more than a little surprised - and unprepared - when I went to answer my front door last night and was greeted with a meek, squeaky rendition of the familiar, "Trick or treat" refrain.

Looking down, I saw a little boy draped in a white sheet tentatively holding out a pillow case and I asked, "What are you supposed to be, a bed?"

"No," said the boy, "I'm a ghost."

It was a pretty crappy costume, and not having any candy, I considered making a reference to Charlie Brown and tossing a rock in his bag, but figured that would go completely over his head, and pondering further, thought that maybe his dad, who I saw lingering down around my front lawn, might not find it funny either. So thinking fast, I told the kid the pair of stamps I remembered having in my wallet were temporary tattoos and dropped them in his sack.

Anyway, whether the boy was genuinely satisfied or merely too perplexed or shy to put up an argument, he scuttled off and left me alone.

Smoking In The Fire

October 25, 2007 - As the self-proclaimed most apathetic person on the planet (go ahead and disagree with me, I don't care), I have rarely experienced the emotion of shame, but as a smoker residing in the southern California area, I haven't been able to help feeling like a bit of a tool this past week.

Specifically, voluntarily exiling myself to a parking lot in order to put on full display the nicotine addiction I continue to allow to dominate my life with any number of other losers every hour or so hasn't really bothered me up to now, but doing so when a nearby brush fire has turned that parking lot into something resembling the inside of a wood-fired clay oven that just got done cooking Sunday's newspaper is pathetic enough that even I'm vaguely embarrassed.

The pinnacle of this mild shame occurred yesterday when, as I was puffing away on a Marlboro Light alone under a charcoal gray sky filled with ash and soot, a coworker happened by and quipped, "Not smokey enough for you?" and I responded, "Yeah...", like some kind of moron.

I suppose if those were tobacco fields that were on fire I could save a few bucks, but just my luck they're not - kind of the way at least somewhat witty retorts like this never occur to me until at least 60 seconds after the opportunity to say them have past.

The Baseball Playoffs - The Most Magical Time of the Year

October 15, 2007 - You can feel the fall classic, even in July. You've memorized the moments. The catches. The misses. The pitches. The faces. You get it. You're a fan - watch like one. There's only one post-season, there's only one fall classic, there's only one October!

Sage words from perhaps the most deeply insightful comedian of our time - Dane Cook. After all, what could be more thrilling than watching a bunch of fat men beat the hell out of a ball with sticks? Could there be any cause more deserving of the investment of your heart and soul than the cheering-on of an arbitrary assemblage of men signed to million dollar contracts by a local billionaire to represent your home franchise as they compete to step on a rubber pentagon more often than their opponents?

Cling to the edge of your seat as the Dominican who joined your team two months ago and will be long gone next April scratches himself in right field. Marvel as your shortstop asks for a time-out to step out of the batter's box and spit in the dirt.

If you're lucky - if your players catch and hit and throw the ball better than the other players, they'll win a championship everybody from outside your city stopped giving a shit about since their own team was eliminated from contention weeks ago, the illusiory, ephemeral significance of which will vanish completely the second the first pitch of the next season is thrown a few short months later.

On the other hand, if you're not so lucky, and your team doesn't win the big one, you'll experience the bitter taste of vicarious failure - inducing you, if you're a real fan, to become visibly sullen to those around you, inducing them, if they're reasonably intelligent people, to think you're a complete idiot.

Deep Thoughts on Columbus Day

October 8, 2007 - Everyone who isn't stupid knows by now that Christopher Columbus was an evil bastard of the highest order whose ruthless, vicious approach to diplomacy with the Native Americans set the standard for the ensuing centuries of genocidal treachery by the equally pious eurotrash settlers to follow. Columbus and his horde of thugs went so apeshit enslaving, dismembering, raping and murdering the people of Hispaniola, his first stop in the New World, that those who weren't directly killed or worked to death took to committing suicide and mercy killing their babies in such numbers that the native population shrunk from 2 million to 0 within 60 years.

That being said, if my employer were to give me the day honoring the anniversary of his maiden voyage off, I'd take it. But they don't. The sacrilegious, fascist, ingrateful fuckheads.

Stolen Garden Gnome Update -

September 26, 2007 - As some of you already know, some dickless coward stole my garden gnome and is sending me correspondence in his name from his supposed travels. The latest:

Dear Reverend Bob,

Greetings from Las Vegas, where so far the lore of glamour and excitement for which the town has been associated continues to elude your (hopefully still) favorite ceramic garden supervisor. Sadly, since hitchhiking our way here four days ago, my new friend Trish and I have known nothing but hardship as our naive optimism has been dashed by a combination of bad luck and harsh reality. Arriving without a penny to our name, Trish hatched an idea of turning a twenty dollar bill acquired through unknown means (she didn't say, and I was afraid to ask) into a small fortune that proved ill-fated as I watched our nest egg disappear with one spin of the roulette wheel through splayed fingers from my position nestled in a potted plant situated between a retired used car dealer vapidly depositing his life savings into a slot machine a quarter at a time and a forty dollar hooker guzzling appletinis.

Though I am grateful my inorganic composition makes me immune to hunger, I must confess I have grown anxious over what the future holds as Trish has fallen silent, possibly contemplating another plot I fear might find me becoming part of the landscape of the garden of some family of obese Mormons in the blighted suburbs of Salt Lake City in exchange for a ticket granting access to gorge at the troughs of one of the many all-you-can-eat buffets around town by morning.

Still Undaunted,
Donald Q. Gnome

Other People's Children Stop Masturbating When Caught In the Act

September 18, 2007 - Behind closed doors, shielded from peer perception and judgment, the police and the public decency laws they're paid to enforce, whom among us doesn’t let their hair down a little - and perhaps their pants - to indulge in the fantastic liberating freedom that consummate privacy affords? Perhaps you jam along to a favorite song on a guitar that isn’t actually there, or maybe you whack off to that certain hot somebody from work or school. Super. But what happens when your fortress of solitude is suddenly breached by an unexpected intruder who catches you in the act? Is the normal, appropriate response not one of abrupt cessation of the clandestine behavior, followed by some sort of exhibition of moderate to profound embarrassment? Maybe for 99.9% of the human race, but not my son. Case in point: I walked into his room last night (after loudly knocking several times), and there he was, rocking out with his cock out, banging his head to Pantera and choking his chicken. The simultaneous combination would qualify as strange enough for any teenager, but it’s what my boy did and didn’t do after seeing me that would really trouble the average parent: he shot me a pair of devil horns, made a noise like a Japanese soldier popping out of a trench, and didn’t skip a beat beating his meat.

Holy Christ, this kid.

Some Rotten Shit Stole My Garden Gnome

August 28, 2007 - I received the following email from some inbred turd with a major death wish this morning, and sure enough, when I got home and looked in the backyard, my garden gnome was gone. Anyone with any information regarding this pigeon-hearted robbery, please email me. And as for the guilty party - I will catch you, and when I do, I'm going to rip your fucking lungs out. - Rev. Bob

Dear Reverend Bob,

As I'm sure you've already noticed, I have vacated my post in your garden for new horizons. I am sorry for this dereliction, but I do hope you understand and pray there are no hard feelings.

You see, not that standing around that neglected patch of crab grass and litter you call a garden every day being slowly devoured by weeds and rubbish hasn't been terribly fulfilling, but lately I've become overwhelmed with a desire to go out and see the world.

From the accompanying picture you can see that the first stop in my travels has been San Francisco. Wonderful city. I've spent four fabulous days here, but am now off. Where to? Again I apologize, but for my own peace of mind must abstain from saying lest you should assemble a search party. Rest assured however that I am safe, and for once truly happy.

Your's Humbly,
Donald Q. Gnome