A Night In The Life Of A Complete Loser

Yesterday, I had to drive my daughter to soccer practice and, due to time constraints, I had to waste my money on a Burger King burger for dinner. As I'm sitting outside the drive thru window, the young kid behind the window says, "Sir, would you like any condiments with your meal?"

I say, "Sure. I'd like some ketchup please."

He says, "No problem sir. I'll get that right in there for you."

I say, "Thanks."

Then he hands me the bag and I drive away. As I said earlier, time was short so I decided to masticate my burger & fries at the park where my daughter played soccer.

We get there, my daughter heads to practice & I open my bag of crappy vittles to find, lo & behold, no ketchup.

Evidently the kid was a complete moron.
Seems to be an everyday thing here in America these days.

As I'm eating, I start fantasizing about how cool it would be to be the guy who just snaps when faced with this situation. How this latest in a million of niggling little setbacks just drives him screaming over the edge. He'd race back to the BK with his largest caliber weapon, force the kid to lick ketchup off his boots right before he splattered the kids brains all over the drive thru window. Of course, he'd look exactly like Michael Douglas in Falling Down.

On the positive side, maybe when the kid reincarnates into his next life as a drive thru technician he'd remember to put the fucking ketchup in the bag.

After I masticate my beef Frisbee I drive to Lowes. We have a wasp nest forming on our garage so I need something to kill the little fuckers.

It's nothing personal. It has been fascinating watching them build the thing, but all I hear are the future shrieks of my children as they're stung.

Anyway, I grab my little can of wasp killing spray & head to the check out lane only to realize that, with my previous stop at BK, I've left my wallet in my car.

As I walk out to my car to retrieve my wallet a white car is driving up. Since I'm cutting through the empty parking spaces we both arrive at the same parking space simultaneously. The guy in the car then jerks his wheel so his car momentarily comes at me. As I pass his passenger side the lump of flab in the passenger seat says "Learn to walk faster."

In response, I say, "Tell ya what, you learn to put the fork down Chubso, and I'll learn to walk faster, 'kay?"

Then I walk to my car & retrieve my wallet.

When I turn around, the driver, a big fat lard ass, is standing by his car glaring at me.

My first thought is "Wow, I bet your ass crack hasn't been wiped completely clean in years buddy. As a matter of fact, I bet you leave a little brown stain everywhere you sit."

When I get closer he starts threatening to beat my ass.

I say to him, "Gee buddy, what are you gonna do, pummel me with your titties."

Man, that really pissed him off. So he comes at me.

Now, I've carried a knife since I was a teenager. In the back of my head I'm thinking if Large Larry should manage the impossible & actually hurt me, I'm gonna ram that thing right in his fucking eyeball.

Because, quite frankly, human life doesn't mean all that much to me anymore. Why does this fat tub of goop deserve to live while all the animals it has taken to keep him alive get to die. Seriously, just imagine the larger than normal trail of dead animals that stretch back behind this lard ass. The number of poor unfortunate cows & chickens & pigs that were masticated & ground into fecal matter inside Blimpy's over-sized gut. Hell, I bet some of their trace residue is still caked on his ass crack.

Instead, I just side step at the last second & stick out my foot. Fat boy goes down like a ton...wait a minute, let me amend that, like 17 tons of bricks, face first onto the concrete. He doesn't even get his jiggly arms out to cushion the fall.

I think, "Alrighty then..." Totally fucking amazed that my half assed self defense move actually worked.

I then turn & head into Lowes, pay for wasp poison, and when I come back outside Porky Pig is standing next to his equally Porky Pigged out wife as she dabs a crumpled napkin in an effort to sop up the blood that's all over his pudgy kisser. Hopefully a few teeth were cracked too, just for fun. He sees me and starts whining about how he's gonna call the cops & yadda yadda yadda blah blah blah..."

I look at him and say, "Better lay off the donuts Herbie."

Then I get in my car & drive away.

As I'm driving down the hill away from Lowes a cop car is driving up the other side of the road. I wonder, "Hmmm, is that for me?"

So far though, no knocks at the door.

I can't help thinking, "What the fuck? I go out for wasp spray & I'm suddenly in a confrontation with Lard Bucket the Food Abyss."

By the by, if you're still trying to figure out who the complete loser is, I'll give you a hint, it wasn't Fatso or his equally Fatso wife.

Also, I never actually did anything to Lardy. He did it all to himself. With a little luck, the resultant rise in his blood pressure caused his aorta to blow out after I left.

One can hope, can't one?

Hey, Ya Can't Call The Little Feebs Retards, 'Kay?

A Texas high school has recalled copies of its yearbook after special needs students were described as "mentally retarded" within its pages, angering teachers, students and their parents.

Mesquite High School's yearbooks were initially distributed on Friday, but were recalled by school officials within hours.

"They told the entire class that they have a slight mistake that needs to be fixed," a senior at the school told Fox's KDFW affiliate.

An introduction to the "Special Education" section read, "Some of the disabilities the students in the Special Education Program have are being blind, deaf or non-verbal" and described two students as "both blind and deaf, as well as mentally retarded."

I love the babblings of PC wankers & their fixation about the proper "labeling" of the brain damaged.

A few months back I did a stint at Special Olympics for basketball. Let me describe it.

Our first event was dribbling. I thought to myself, "Finally, an event these people are genetically bred to do well." Then I saw that they meant dribbling with a basketball.

Whoops!

The coordinators made a 6 foot cone circle & then counted how many times a participant can dribble inside the circle. Every dribble counts whether it's in the circle or not.

Next up, they had to shoot a ball into a hoop set at a height of about 5 feet from different spots about 3-4 feet from the hoop.

Then they had to toss a basketball into an 8 ft. x 8 ft. square on the wall. The participants distance from the wall was completely irrelevant. They could stand 6 ft. away or 6 inches.

Finally, they had to run & dribble. This usually meant that a staff member would stand in front of them, coaxing them down a straight lane while the client held the ball. If the client dropped it, the staff would retrieve it but it wouldn't count against the client.

All of this took about 45 minutes to race through.

Then came the medals.

They divided these 4 "events" into 29 divisions with 2-3 participants per division, which meant that everybody got a medal whether they actually deserved one or not.

This dragged on for close to 2 hours. In about 5 instances, a client who received a silver or bronze medal would be so pissed that they didn't get a gold medal they'd rip it off and have a crying, stomping tantrum in front of everybody.
When this occurred the staff handing out the medals would turn towards the crowd & give a nice condescending little smile & shoulder shrug as if to say, "Oh isn't the little feeb so cute."

The funniest part is that the medals are the same hunk of cheap plastic with only the color being different. I kept thinking, "Jesus, somebody get a gold magic marker and color the damn thing gold. It's meaningless anyway."

That's the point where I realized that one would have to be retarded to think a gold hunk of plastic is any better than a silver or bronze one. Or, for that matter, to think any of those little hunks of colored plastic were worth anything at all.

Needless to say, the afternoon was ripe with oodles of condescension. All the PC wanker talk about "normalization" was just that, wanker talk. If anyone thinks any of this is somehow ennobling or empowering they are gazing at it through big thick rose colored glasses. Mostly, the afternoon just left me depressed and pulling harder for an apocalyptic meltdown.

As I read the comment section to the above story, I noticed a few people mentioning their stints at Special Olympics. Without fail each one ran through a list of its benefits explaining how the courage and determination of the retards was so beautiful to see, etc., etc., yadda yadda blah fucking blah...

I guess they got the glasses.

Next time I'm going to look for mine.

To be fair, there was one part that I found quite interesting. The chap I babysit is an old horndog who used to throw female staff onto beds and try to prong them. At the beginning of the events they trotted out a crew of 13-14 year old cheerleaders in their little skimpy cheerleader outfits. My boy went bugfuck. Screaming loudly and repeatedly grabbing his groin, cupping his hands in front of his chest as if he were squeezing titties, and gyrating his hips as if he were pronging the little cuties.

Quite the hoot!

He then spent a fair amount of time walking up to any female staff that was present, putting them in a big bear hug and grabbing handfuls of ass & titty.
The women were so PC brainwashed they just took it all with an uncomfortable & semi fearful grimace on their faces.

I would try make sure to appear like I was looking away when he did his feeble minded octopus routine because I have no intention of helping any female who isn't blowing me.
Been there, done that. Now it's time for them to live up to their "We're equal" whine.

Again, quite the hoot!

The True Face Of Terrorism

Hmmm, it appears the left is attempting to regrow their balls.

Three men charged with conspiring to commit domestic terrorism during the NATO summit were plotting to attack President Obama's Chicago campaign headquarters, the Chicago mayor's home and police stations, authorities said Saturday.

A police investigation that began early this month revealed that the three suspects are "self-proclaimed anarchists" and members of the "Black Bloc" group who traveled together from Florida to Chicago to commit violence as a protest against the NATO summit, authorities said in a statement.

Let's see what American grown terrorism looks like these days.



That is a scary bunch of fellows. The Rasta wanna-be is particularly quiver inducing.
I suspect 6 mommies & daddies will be suspending some allowances this week.

I'm beginning to think the left is little more than the Culture Ministry of the New Boiled Mordor, since its white faction so cavalierly co-opts the cultures of other, Empire stomped, countries. In many respects, the left & right are Empire's mirror image lap dogs.

It is evident in this year's Mayan doomsday countdown where "spiritual" left wingers care more about long dead Mayan calenders than they do about actual living Mayan descendants. But it is most evident in the Western co-opting of "Karma." The Karmic wheel is, an actuality, a blind wheel. But most Westerners seem to prefer to view Karma through a Christianized prism where your own specific bad deeds will return to haunt you. The fact that this causality has absolutely nothing to do with the original idea doesn't seem to deter anyone in the least.

Evidently greedy consumerism is so ingrained in our DNA that we can't leave anything uneaten.

Really dude, you're not a fucking Rasta & the dreads just make you look pathetic.
& I don't care how much ganja you smoke, you will never ever ever be a black Jamaican.

But that doesn't matter very much does it? It all seems like a stuttering replay of R. Gordon Wasson's spiritual rape of Maria Sabina. In fact, it has been one long continuum of spiritual rape perpetrated by the sons of Empire.

In fact, the only thing Dread Lock Boy is missing is a good old fashioned Maria Sabina T-shirt.



The affected multiculturalism of the Left is as necessary to Empire as its tanks & bombs. While the latter decimates the material realm of indigenous peoples, the former pillages their spiritual realm, in many cases robbing indigenous people of their last remaining asset, their culture.

It's a sick & twisted, yet very successful little game. Of course, both the Left & the Right would vigorously insist that they are in opposition but that's just another facet of the game. In the end, the only real losers are the indigenous pawns, gobbled up & shat out by a Left/Right dichotomy that is as tired as it is fake.

Do I believe these 3 red, blue & white bread Yahoos are "terrorists?"

Not exactly.

More like tag team partners in a rigged cage match.

But then, you knew that, didn't you?

After watching almost a year of various Occupy/Anti Something Or Other demonstrations by the Left, Empire's pantomime has become increasingly apparent. In these, the spoiled children of Western privilege periodically temper tantrum while the State spanks them with pepper spray & the occasional baton. The children cry "Fascist," the parents cry "Commie" but, magically, nothing ever really changes. The gears of Empire grind on while Empire's subjects maintain the illusion of "Change" & "Hope."

I did see one comment at boingboing that made me laugh:

Chicagoan here...
By and large, the police and most of the protesters have been civil, upstanding citizens. The police have even been joking and chatting with protesters and helping a few of them that were suffering from dehydration in the 90 degree heat this weekend.
The "black bloc" however have been attempting to provoke the police all weekend. They've been throwing things at the cops (including bags of feces, not kidding) and generally just trying to use the civil protest as a cover to break the law.

The Chicago PD has been super restrained. They haven't used pepper spray, tear gas or excessive violence against a very small group of 100 people or so who have been trying to provoke them for 3 days straight.

The CPD has treated the protesters with the respect and civility they deserve. I am proud of what they've done and proud to live here.

While I've never been a lover of the police, I can't say that I hate them. I'm more of a believer in Sturgeon's Law: 99% of everything is shit.
This includes cops as well as their pseudo-revolutionary left wing foils.

I will say this though, as someone who has had more than his fair share of shit tossed at him by useless societal burdens, if I were a cop who got hit in the face with a bag of scat, someone would be spending a bit of time with active Tazer barbs embedded in his ball sack.

But I suppose that the purpose of a bag of shit in the face is to provoke a very violent & visceral response from the police that can be Vimeo-d & YouTube-d out the wazoo. Without police violence all you have is a bunch of unemployed dipshits marching in a circle looking simple. With police violence the illusion of opposition & choice can be maintained with a nicely pre-packed "Us" twittering on and on about the horrors of "Them," as Empire leaves us with our affected outrage and returns to business as usual.

Viva La Revolution!!

Yay Team America!!

A Cautionary Tale

This is McKenna. Cute as a button, right? Sadly, poor McKenna has seen her share of tragedy. After both her parents were decapitated in a freak chainsaw sculpting accident at the first Green Man festival in 2003, McKenna was sent off to the American Girl Orphanage. The AGO, popularly known amongst conspiracy theorists as "Girls Town," apparently took many liberties with the normal screening process as they vetted new parents for their charges.

Little McKenna was sent to live with an itinerant preacher & his family in Little Rock, Arkansas. After acclimating herself to her new home, McKenna & her new step sister, Sarah, became inseparable. Together they encouraged hours of imagination and play in each other—from dreaming up adventures to styling hair to sharing every little secret.

Every little secret that is, except one...

At night, McKenna's new father would sneak into her room & do unspeakable things to her.

At first McKenna tried to tell Sarah about their father. But Sarah loved her father so, and McKenna couldn't bear to break her new sister's heart.

So she learned to sublimate the pain, shearing her McKenna personality off into a little mental box while her stepfather had his way with her.

For 5 long years McKenna kept up this front of smiles for her friend, but one day, her stepsister mysteriously stopped talking to her. That night, McKenna overheard Sarah telling her parents that she "was too old" for McKenna.

McKenna was heartbroken.

Eventually Sarah left for college, & McKenna's stepparents tossed her out of the house like so much trash.
Wandering the streets of Little Rock at 2 A.M., McKenna was approached by a man in an SUV who offered her money to do certain things on camera.
Broke, hungry & alone, McKenna accepted.



This began McKenna's sordid descent into a world of pornography, prostitution and drug abuse, culminating with the obligatory breast enhancement & eventual foray into machine sex, BDSM & swirly videos that are the destination of most young female sex workers as their youthful gleam fades & their internal scarring solidifies.



Just last week we heard that poor McKenna had developed a nasty meth addiction & was selling herself to video game geeks & comic book nerds to support her habit.

In conclusion, I urge you to say a prayer for poor McKenna.
May her days of objectification & bondage end sooner rather than later.

Thank You.

Dick