The Greed of a "Mourning" Father

Most things irritate me, but some things make my flesh crawl as if leeches were sucking me dry. O.J. Simpson’s shit-eating grin is one of these things. His smirk accentuates his abnormally large head like a powder blue tuxedo on a Mexican. Speaking of his gargantuan head, have you ever seen anything bigger? That question got me to thinking, so I did a little research and this is the only thing that I can find larger than his melon.

Enough of O.J., let’s talk about Fred Goldman. I read this morning on the Fox News website that Goldman is suing The Pirate Bay for profit loss due to pirated copies of the book If I Did It. According to Goldman, he has lost $150,000 in revenue from illegal downloading. Did I read that right? My reaction was very similar to O.J.’s.

For those that are not familiar with If I Did It, it’s basically O.J. Simpson’s confession to the murders. Now, if my son was murdered I would want everyone to read the killer’s confession and I wouldn’t be upset if they didn’t want to pay twenty dollars to read it. Hell, I would be in Wal-Mart doing my best impression of a damnation preacher handing the confession out to everyone that walked by.

Granted, Goldman won a 34 million dollar civil law suit from Simpson. That money is to be paid by Simpson, not curious readers or The Pirate Bay. Goldman is a greedy bastard that is profiting from his son’s murder at the expense of the public. O.J. Simpson may be scum around the toilet, but Fred Goldman is the mildew on the tube next to him.

So, after hours of extensive research into things bigger than O.J.’s head, I am proud to announce I have found one more thing…My disgust for Fred Goldman.

What's Incredibly Delicious Yet Surprisingly Nutritious?

It's Kudos...

I have to give special thanks to Vixen for helping (actually moving) my posts from previous versions of my blog. If I had been forced to transfer the posts bad things could have happened. Quite possibly a bus full of retards might have blown up, Tarantino may have announced a sequel to Death Proof, or the unthinkable...Mcrib could have cut its farewell tour short.

So, stop by her site A Month of Thursdays , and thank her for saving the retards, sparing your senses from another Tarantino atrocity, and deducting five years from your life by allowing the Mcrib to stick around.

Just beware she is very cranky on Thursdays and has been known to put people in jail.

Brothers and Sisters the Word of the Day is...

Solidarity

It’s been over three months since I wrote anything for this blog. And now I am breaking my silence. It’s no secret that in terms of Homo sapiens I am a perfect specimen. Therefore, I can do things that the mere mortals cannot. I’m not talking about jumping over buildings, stopping speeding trains, or deflecting bullets. Those things are child’s play compared to what I can do. Although I can think of a handful of rappers that could have used the deflecting bullets talent, I digress.

Back to my hiatus, At this point most everyone is aware of the writers strike. Well one of my talents is I can see the future. I started striking in advance to show my support. Now, I know all three of my readers are asking the question “But, JDV you aren’t a member of the WGA, are you?” Excellent and very perceptive question, no I am not, but I am a writer and that my friends is where the word of the day comes in to play.

After my last post in July, I started to sense a disturbance in the force. I acquired this talent many years ago after watching the Star Wars trilogy repeatedly for three days straight. I liken it to Algebra; you never think you will need fractions but you will. Anyway, at first I thought this disturbance was being caused by the introduction of shitty new shows like The Bionic Woman. As the disturbance grew stronger I realized that it was the money-grubbing studios bullying my writing brethren by hanging them upside down and shaking the miniscule royalties they so deserved from their pockets. Without talented writers, we as entertainment hungry Americans would be forced to endure horrendous shows lacking substance. If you cannot picture that, imagine being forced to listen to a Poison record over and over again. See, it’s a real problem.

Studios are profiting from technology via online streaming of shows and DVD sales. The writers see none of this additional revenue. Need I remind you, without talented writers, it’s Look What the Cat Dragged In 24/7. It’s really no different from record companies profiting from the sales of overpriced cds and the artists seeing very little of the share.

I read an article the other day about file sharing. In the article the King of the Mushroom-Headed Hair, Gene Simmons declared that college kids should be jailed for downloading a few songs, going on to say that stealing songs was taking from the artists pockets. Not entirely true, it’s taking from the record companies pockets, who are bullying the artists just as the studios are shaking down the writers. A band makes money from the revenue of concert and merchandise sales. Only a fraction of the revenue generated from record sales goes to the artist. Gene Simmons would know this if he paid attention in Algebra class. I told you that fractions were important. Actually, Gene Simmons owns his own record company so he is not speaking for artists. He is speaking for the greedy bastards that are charging the same price for cds in 2007 as they charged twenty years ago.

Here’s the deal…let’s say you see the band, The Coke Bottle Ass Pluggers on a torrent site. And you think “Wow, great name, I wonder if they are any good?” You’re gun shy about going out and spending fifteen bucks on a cd because the last time you did that by name alone, the Anal Cunt cd you bought sucked. What do you do?

You, along with thousands other download the torrent. It turns out The Coke Bottle Ass Pluggers kick some serious Shaft ass, so you go to their show and buy that sweet ass T-shirt. You just gave fifty bucks to the artist and many people that downloaded the torrent liked it so much they went out and bought the overpriced cd. Now without the torrent no one would have listened to The Coke Bottle Ass Pluggers except Clay Aiken. Record Companies need to stop crying and fuck Gene Simmons too.

I got off on a tangent there, but the same thing applies to the royalties writers are owed. Solidarity my good people, walk side by side with the people that give you endless hours of escapism from nagging spouses and puking kids. So there you have it, that’s why I’ve been silent….

Did you buy that? OK, while all that is true, the word of the day isn’t “Solidarity”, it’s “Bamboozle.” I haven’t posted anything because I’ve been lazy. That’s my true talent. I fooled all three of you, don’t lie, and don’t frown, get down.

Wedding Bliss: Gambling, Threesomes with God, and Bird Shit

Recently I was stricken with horror while opening my mail. Hidden beneath the countless credit card offers and Publisher’s Clearing House notices was a vile little entity commonly referred to as a wedding invitation. Now, I hate weddings, not for the sappiness factor but for the socializing factor. I do not like people. In fact, I am better than most people, and to lower myself to speak to some common folk about career choices, etc. pains me like the bite of a thousand fire ants. However, this was a wedding invitation for a family member so I figured I would suffer. I am a great blood relative.

So last Saturday I drove two hours to attend something that I detest. Did I mention I am the Mother Teresa of blood relatives? I liken weddings to seeing Rosie O’ Donnell decked in dominatrix gear in that horrendous film Exit to Eden. With the being said, one day I will probably get married I figure it’s my duty to make some woman an incredibly lucky woman one day

Once I arrived, I surveyed the land, taking a precise inventory of the obstacles known as “talkers” to avoid. After a few minutes I migrate to my own kind, just as any species would do in the wild, I sat down with my parents. I figured they already knew that I am an antisocial asshole so they wouldn’t grate my nerves. Oh ! I forgot to mention this wedding was outside in 90-degree heat. That anomaly impaired my normally uncanny keen sense for avoiding “talkers.” Soon I noticed a stranger sitting next to me…and he drew blood, he spoke.

It happened to be my uncle’s brother. At that point, the only thing I could think about was “I wonder if this is the one with the “life-partner” at home?” I have no idea what he was saying to me, I was focused on the high pitch in his voice, and you know what, he could be the one with the “life-partner” at home. The traditional “here’s the rope, put it to good use” wedding music interrupted me before I found out for sure. Later in the day I saw my uncle’s other brother…he definitely is the one with the “life-partner.”

It became obvious to me as the ceremony started that the preacher was a little odd. At this point, I had no hard evidence to back up my hypothesis. That soon would change. After the initial prayer, the preacher informed the audience that for the next ten minutes he was going to speak directly to the bride and groom and that we as witnesses could just enjoy being voyeurs. Then it hit me, the preacher looked like one of those guys that liked to get his ass whooped by Rosie O dressed in dominatrix attire. I started picturing him sporting gimp gear…I laughed…my mother gave me “the look.”

Then I became pissed not because I got “the look” after 30 some years I am immune to “the look.” I was pissed because this man was wasting my valuable time telling these two people things he should have told them in private weeks ago. An attention whore preacher is only funny if he is farting on you tube. He proceeds to inform the groom that from this point forward, he will pretty much be her slave, he will take the trash out, he will do this, he will do that, etc. After a depressing five minutes that seemed the equivalent of a list of choirs, he was finished with the groom. It was the bride’s turn…it took fifteen seconds, he told her to be the groom’s friend. I heard laughter behind me, turning around I noticed the preacher’s wife actually breastfeeding a baby. It figures.

After his less than successful audition for The Last Comic Standing, the preacher finally got to the nitty gritty of the ceremony. He started by saying, “These two are taking a huge risk rolling the dice, most marriages today end in divorce.” Fuck positive reinforcement I say! He then went on to tell the lovebirds that the only way to have a happy, blooming marriage was to have God in the middle. What? Preacher man seemed to suggest that threesomes with God were the ‘in” thing. I’m pretty sure this breaks a commandment. On the other hand it does explain why people scream out “Oh God” when they cum.

The rest of the ceremony was pretty much the standard do you take blah, blah, blah…I really didn’t pay attention because the entire time I was coming up with God and threesome jokes in my head. Then, I felt something hit my leg, I looked down to discover a huge glob of green bird shit on my pants. See this is way you do not have weddings outside; birds have the couth of West Virginians. The little fuckers probably have a points scoring system for shitting on people. Anyway, the one that shit on me scored 25 points, 10 for the leg and 15 for the shoulder….yes he shit on my shoulder too. It was at this point I decided to blame God, sure, he has a sense of humor, but obviously, he cannot take a joke.

There is Some Shifty Shit Going on in Aisle 13

I was thinking about suing the makers of Axe Body Wash for false advertising. I had been watching the commercials, according to Axe, if I bathed in this magical potion women would attack me like I was a cafe and they were suicide bombers. I still wasn't sold.

So, I go to the store and see Axe sitting on the shelf. After picking the bottle up, I expected some sort electrical charge to shoot through my fingertips as a direct result of the potency of the wash. It did not happen.

At this point, I figured that Axe was attempting to bamboozle stupid men with cheap, inane advertising. I had to know for sure, so I read the back of the bottle.

On the back were two images...one, a shower head and two, a silhouette of a man flanked by two women. The only way to interpret this is...use Axe, score a threesome." There was no mention of having to pay these women to join you in the threesome, so I figured $4.29 + tax for a threesome was an awesome deal. I was already sold, but there was an EXPERIENCE THE AXE EFFECT warning on the back, that read...The Axe Effect may result in, but is not limited to, unrelenting female attention and/or late nights. Blinded with the thought of having to beat women off with a stick I ran to the counter, ignoring the key word MAY.

Once home I had to try out this wonderful concoction that I knew would make Ponce De Leon feel inadequate since he only discovered a measly fountain of youth. I showered...fully expecting two women to be waiting for me when I threw back the shower curtain; I positioned myself to the right angle and flung the curtain back.

Nothing! Wonderful concoction my ass, this was expensive snake oil. I was destroyed. So I stepped out of the shower, dried myself off, then noticed that I smelt refreshing, in fact I smelt groovy, the name of the wash was Groove. Not all was lost but I was still suing.

Then about three in the morning, I woke up itching. My skin was having an allergic reaction to the AXE EFFECT. That sealed the deal I definitely was suing. After digesting more than the recommended dosage of Benadryl, I remembered the disclaimer warned of late nights. I looked at the clock again, it was 3:45 and I thought well God Damnit! now I can't sue.

Darwin Was Wrong: Sgt. Pampers

Well, it has been about a week since I embarked on my journey to prove Darwin wrong. My eyes have seen unimaginable horrors. It’s been so bad at times that my retinas have practically begged me to stare into a solar eclipse. Look at the things I do for Science, I am a true humanitarian.

The first installment of Darwin Was Wrong is a grand slam. In fact, with this one post I completely disprove Darwin’s Theory of Evolution. Don’t worry, people are dense, and it takes a shitload of evidence to convince them, so my journey is just beginning. Without further ado,…I give you case study #1: “Diapers Are a Part of My Life”

I stumbled upon a picture that evoked hysterical nausea. Look!

I know what you’re going to ask…Why in the hell is Newt Gingrich dressed in Winnie the Pooh pj’s and sucking on a pacifier? I don’t know…but there is something more disturbing than that. You doubt me? OK, I admit it’s hard to beat an image of an adult man dressed like a three year old but have faith in me….

After perusing Huggy Bear’s Myspace friends list, I struck ghoulish gold. Apparently, there is a Myspace movement of diaper dandies. One idiot stood out in a room full of diaper clad “babies”. I call him Sgt. Pampers.

Let’s look at Sgt. Pampers’ bio….

About me:
I am a guy that feels safe and secure when wearing his diaper. I wear my diaper to bed, work, shopping, and everywhere I go. The answer to your questions is: I do wet my diaper when I wear no matter where I am at. Diapers are my underpants as much as possible. Much easier to take off a wet diaper than wet underpants and pants.

Well, I am glad he answered the 100,000-dollar question of “does he wet his diaper.” Seriously, what the fuck is this! This man is 43 years old and wears a diaper, ON PURPOSE. I have a friend who occasionally shits his pants when he farts and it’s funny but this is downright appendicitis inducing comedy. Indoor plumbing is not a new thing; this guy actually pisses in a diaper when he is fully capable of using a toilet. Darwin said what!





I wonder what happens if Sgt. Pampers goes a day or so without wearing a diaper? Don’t keep us in suspense any longer….

Wearing diapers has become such a part of me that if I go a few days with out wearing, I start to feel really down. I don't see anything wrong with wearing diapers. I am glad to look through myspace and see that there are others out there that like, have the need, or want to wear diapers.

I am lost with out my diaper on.

I swear to baby wipes Jesus I am not making this shit up. Obviously a few days without diapers is like a few days without caffeine minus the headache.

So, I wonder what a diaper dilemma consists of….hmmm…

Last Sunday I was down to my last diaper and had to go get some more. So during the day, I went to Walgreens because I was in a hurry and had to be somewhere. Went in looked for the Walgreens brand extra type grabbed them and went to the check out counter. Wouldn't you know it there was a line but I didn't care, I needed them. There was a lady with lots of things and then a little girl in front of me waiting to buy her own things. So here I am waiting there holding a bag of adult diapers with no concerns at all. No one said anything or even had a funny look about it. When it was time to pay, i handed them to the young girl working and she checked me out. I put them in my car and headed out to my meeting. Later on that evening, I needed to change so I got one out and went into a bathroom to change, little did I know but I bought the wrong size, I bought the XL size. Oh well to late now, so I put on the XL Diaper. Yes it was a much larger than what I needed but I needed to have a diaper on so what was I going to do.

Now that all I have are these XL size, I have been wearing them to work and everywhere I go. They make more noise than my normal size, but no one has noticed yet. I have to make sure I wear a shirt that will stay tucked in because my XL diapers stick up past my pants and I don't want anyone at work to see them. So far a week has gone by and no one has said anything. Next time I will pay more attention to the size and not be in such a hurry.

WOW! OK, I’m going to say something about them….you’re a goddamn grown man, stop wearing diapers, and use a fucking toilet. Hell, even sit down to pee if it makes you feel comfortable but stop with the damn diapers. You are contributing to downfall of society.

And to find out your biggest worry is whether the diaper is making noise or not is mind-boggling. Your biggest worry should be if the people around you can smell your nasty shitting your diaper ass.

Paging Darwin….

I Am Your New Lt. Starbuck

The Internet is an endless highway of amusement. Whether pillaging torrent sites for the newest releases of perusing the latest edition of Down Her Gullet with my 10” Mullet, the net can be a fun place. Let’s face it though… after you’ve seen one hot blond drop a Steamer on some poor yet eagerly anxious guy’s chest…you’ve seen them all.

Big tits, weird fetishes, free music, and Myspace are just the make-up on the black eyes of truth. We, as a society, are devolving. This signs are plastered over the Internet like repulsive toilet art left by someone unfortunate enough to experience bad Mexican food and live to shit about it. At first you turn away in disgust but soon you start thinking “hey, that piece of corn looks like the Titanic and it’s about to hit that huge shitberg.” I digress…

Darwin’s Theory of Evolution relies heavy on the ideology of Natural Selection. For those out there who failed 7^th grade Biology…Natural Selection is a process in which over a period a time a species inherits and develops stronger traits while cutting off weaker traits. If you learn Science by reading fortune cookies, the strong will survive and the weak shall perish. It makes sense. Think deeper, in order for this to work; the majority should be strong, right? I mean if the weak are killed off, basic math states that the strong are the majority. If the net is a litmus test for this, the theory A) is wrong or B) states that the pants shitters of the world are the true geniuses. Either way Natural Selection in mankind is flawed.

On the other hand, technology is evolving. Ten years ago a Packard Bell running Windows was a Cadillac, today it’s a 1973 Pinto station wagon with brown-siding. That’s the way things should be and it supports Darwin’s Natural Selection like a girdle on Rosie O’ Donnell. All the while, the same idiot has been fucking up my order at Mcdonald’s for the last four years. Basic Evolution suggests that by now he should have learned what “no mayonnaise” means. It also would suggest that after four years I should have moved on to the more scrumptious delicacies of Steak N Shake. I blame it on the fries, they are not doused with salt, it’s an inhibitor to block me from moving on to better eats. Again, I digress…

If technology is evolving yet mankind is devolving, where does that leave us? I will tell you where…in the not so distant future Cylon Centurions will run rampant through the streets. This time you will not have Dirk Benedict and Lorne Greene to protect you. Heed my warning. Soon C-3PO will be our president, ( I know it will be an improvement, bear with me , for the sake of my rambling) so do not be surprised to hear the following in a robotic Richard Simmons-like voice, “ vice-president R2-D2 says chances of survival are 725 to one.” Don’t try to blame the web-cam whore and her contortionist ways, you have no one blame but yourself.




I am about to embark on a journey that will take me to the moronic bowels of the Internet. A new section is born…Darwin Was Wrong will debut this week. I will traverse through seedy chat rooms, ludicrous livejournals, brainless message boards, and imbecilic Myspace pages in search of quotes and photos to disprove Darwin. It’s my part to save mankind. I am your new Lt. Starbuck. Wish me luck and may the force be with me…..

And don’t go blaming C-3PO for the fall of mankind. Blame your neighbor, who still has his Christmas lights up in April.