Sunday Poat

Leon linked to Alton Brown’s announcement, so I thought I’d link to this. I’m just gonna sit here and geek out for a minute. Maybe after that I’ll hit the gym.  I could try crossfit.

Meanwhile, I want to try this girl’s lemon curd. Here’s a better video of her saying something that doesn’t strike me as important.  She also has an Instagram account, because of course she does.  In it, she posts mostly tasteful, artistic landscapes as well as occasional pictures of her muffins.

Archer cocktails.

Some music for your weekend.

Apropos Of Nothing

There are certain words and phrases we occasionally encounter when reading that we sort of know their meaning. We might have looked up them up once in the distant past, know a root word or understood by intuition the intended meaning within the context it was used. “Apropos of nothing” is one of those phrases for me. I don’t think I’ve ever uttered those words in conversation. I may have imagined myself saying them somewhere in the English countryside before politely asking someone to please pass the Grey Poupon mustard. Well, after a lifetime of waiting for the moment, I finally wrote the words in an email to someone where I linked a story about the use of poppy seed oil to increase fertility. I’d never heard of that technique before and was still processing the concept in my head when I wrote a friendly email and just had to share the story. Which is what prompted the “apropos of nothing” lead in to the link.

So what’s it mean? Stolen from the world wide web I give you this definition:

Without reference to anything. // Without any apparent reason or purpose.

Does that sound like anything we all know and love? A certain blog? Rhymes with “The Sausages“? I’m sure you all have similar words you run across that you have the same feeling about.

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Obama II: Cockfacefuckaloo

That last word seems made up but it isn’t. If you search for it on the intertitty you’ll find a wealth of information.

So Obama is back, and this time going to kick ass and use cliches, and he’s all out of cliches. The world is stuck like a deer in the headlights of a sixteen wheel suck mobile, paralyzed at his magnificence–or so the media would have you believe.

The truth, harder than a diamond, and as difficult to swallow as a giant bitter pill is that only a few people actually care; rich old liberals and black women. The rest of us are just trying to get on with our lives. The days of our lives, even.

So please, do us a favor, oh God Emperor of the Early Release Television Series, go the fuck away. Obama could build a speech generator using the words, ‘world, future, change, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, let us, hope, and destiny,’ bridged together with terrible sentence formations and almost no one would notice. Just put up a cardboard cut out and play side A of the tape called ‘Flattering Rich Crackers’ then flip it over to side B, ‘I am Black Also, and Understand You.’

Save everyone else some time, dickface. If we wanted to be talked down to or bored to death we’d use bad grammar in a blog post and wait for Hotspur to show up.

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This man, right here, the one I’m pointing to…is a DICK!!!

Hostage Oscar Party (Now With 100% Fewer Slow-loading GIFs!)

Well, the Academy Awards are here again. Yay. If you think you’re sick of hearing about them, try living in Southern California. It’s all they talk about on the news for the next goddamn week.

Most of us aren’t big fans of Hollywood (or as one guy I heard one time called it, HollyWEIRD–delightful!) but maybe you saw a couple of the movies that are nominated this year. Are you rooting for La La Land? Hidden Fences? Something else?

Ah, who am I kidding? We’re all boycotting the Oscars. Not for the politics (okay, maybe a little bit because of the politics) but because the most deserving film of the year wasn’t nominated:

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I’m just hoping John Wick 2: The Wick and The Dead gets nominated next year. Probably not, though.

Saturday Shakespearean Sonnet

Let’s just get this out of the way right upfront:

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Okay, now that we’ve dispensed with that, on to the poetry:

O, fake internet friends, how they slack off
When the long week’s toil is done and ended.
Whether they do Crossfit or just jack off,
The blog on weekends moulders, unamended.
Exceptions come, sometimes, from our Jimbro
Or if the Puppeh isn’t chasing tail.
But too often we are stuck in limbo
And Friday’s buxom freshness starts to fail.
I know well that all of you have lives
While weekends find me cloistered here at work.
But thirty-some hours on a poat is jive
Yeah, “jive” is weak; you write the next poem, jerk!
So ends my verse, now let comments commence,
And maybe push this down some hours hence.

Super Bowl Preview (and also probably Super Bowl Poat, because you’re a bunch of lazy assholes)

It’s that time of year again, where the air is buzzing with excitement, everyone is talking about their favorite players, and there are parties galore! I am speaking, of course, of Black History Month.

But the Super Bowl is also coming up or some junk, so we should probably talk about that, too… Continue reading

Fuck You

EAT YOUR CEREAL, RYAN!!!!

Big Blam Friboob!111!!!!1!!!

Herro bish face. Apparently Pupster has been picked up by the dog catcher and is presently residing with Obama’s mythical son in cell block 4B. Poor doggeh.

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Today’s band is really, really good. I wrote this song with The National while browsing the H2 and coming across one of my favorite phrases, ‘fainting couch.’ As in, “Co Alex was at Wal-Mart shopping for a new chia pet and just saw the Jonas Brothers which prompted him to retire to his fainting couch. ”

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Today’s model is from England. England is a country of oppressive assholes that tried to keep us bending the knee to a fat German guy just because he was born someone oh so special.  Fuck that…and her tits. Speaking of dorking her jugs…they are as Trump would say, yuge. Please stop power walking in the street while white and welcome, Sarah Randall!!!!!!!

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saranicolarandalllooksm Continue reading