I got some things in the mail recently. You gotta see these. First, MJ sent me a graduation present.
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!!!
RIP, Lipstick
A sweet lady passed away much too soon.
I met Lipstick at the Tempe In The Sun meatup and have fond memories of sitting by the pool, talking about this and that, and giggling about Chad. I never did get the full story of why Lipstick’s feet are included in Proof of Life, so I hope someone can fill me in.
I have family near Lipstick’s hometown and can personally vouch for Windber Hospice as good people.
I don’t know what else to say, other than I’m glad to have known her and I’m so sorry she’s left us.
Feel free to update this poat.
Thank you, Scott, for letting us know.
Tuesday. Tuesday. Tuuuuuesssdayyyy.
Here. Take this. It’s just a series of pictures. Cute cats and dogs upon ye.
That’s it. Didn’t hurt, right? Right. Thanks for your patient attention.
Have a wonderful Tuesday. If you can. Just try, okay?
MMM 201: Working on my dad bod
I’m getting fat. Not making/getting time for the gym, barely eating right, not getting enough sleep, and I turn 40 next week. Fatherhood and this whole “driving to work” thing is killing me. The former is worth it, the latter is not. I need motivation this week, and lots of it.
Also sleep. And some steak. And less alcohol. And like a hundred pullups.
Stones fan?
MMM 189: Feelin’ mighty fine
I’m up late on Sunday watching Spanish soaps on the Netflix. I just finished showing my wife Monster Squad, which I first saw in 1988. Go watch it right now just for this snippet:
Not only could you not make this movie today, you could never, ever film a scene with a heroic boy with a shotgun taking ownership of his name and refusing to be bullied. This is what we’ve lost, and we are unfathomably poorer for it. It might seem like a little thing, a meaningless bit of drek cinema, but it’s lost to us, maybe forever, and that’s a bad, bad thing.
Fist bump, Horace, you were and always will be my hero. I was 12 and I was fat and you gave me hope. They wouldn’t even call you fat today, bro. You’d be a regular kid nowadays.
Picture time. Getting some sun.
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What change looks like
Honorary Hostage David Thorne – Epic E-mail Exchange
