This is the awesomest picture ever. It's all over the internet so I'm not exactly trying for originality points. I set it as the background for my desktop and my wife changed it because it creeped her out. I wish this little girl was at every disaster ever, just looking over her shoulder and smiling. Did she set the fire? Or is she just happy to see motherfuckers burn? Either way, SHE IS SOOOOOO CUTE!
Buncocky Cast Episode 17: Timetravelnauts. First episode of the new season! Subjects include lonely Navy seemen and their dirty games, summer blockbuster movies, aliens, jays dad's great idea for a tv show, paying too much for movies, schoolyard games, AND MUCH MORE!!!
You can get it on itunes by clicking here.
If that doesn't work you can just go to the itunes store and search Buncocky. It is free ya'll, yes yes ya'll, Buncocky puttin' bitches to the test ya'll!
Feedback makes us hot so,if you would be so kind, leave your notes in the comments section of our itunes page or email us at buncocky@gmail.com. You can also become our BFFs on myspace.com/buncocky/if you have anything you would like us to address just send us ideas.
xoxoxoxo,
Jay and Mike
Since the white devil stole my ipod, I have been forced into many situations that involve being alone and thinking without a babysitter to keep my jaded, media saturated brain at peace and in order. Today, during a very long drive, I got to thinking about how we humans give ourselves way too much credit. We get so wrapped up in our immediate bullshit that we lose touch with the fact that we really aren't shit in the span of things. I ain't shit, you ain't shit, music ain't shit, everything ain't shit. All we are is just another brick...fuck. I need to plug into some electronics and drink a cold bolt of electroids before I end up wearing Birkenstock's and smoking weeds in Greyhound bus bathrooms.
The main thing us humans want is to press forward. We want to follow our eyes into the horizon, then rape the horizon, then go to the new horizon that we created by going into the horizon. We want all that our eyes could see, even at the expense of everything there is. I was thinking of conquering horizons and that led to thinking of murdering a bunch of Indians and shit. At first I felt bad. I was all like:
"Poor Indians, why do people have to be so mean?"
And then I thought that maybe it's impressive enough that we suppressed our instincts and came up with morals in the first place. I mean, if there's one thing that we can take credit for it's thinking of mad shit. Not necessarily great shit, just lots of shit. And so, while I feel for everybody who ever died during a lapse of moral judgment, and that encompasses every race and religion in the time space continuum, I no longer think of evil-doers and victims. I think of how impressive it is that we had the thoughts that led to a system (A global system. This is not a pro America rant) that created a relatively universal core of morals that humans can all pretty much agree upon. And considering that we came up with that shit from scratch, you'd have to expect people to fuck it up sometimes. I mean, we can hold ourselves to some high standards, but to expect perfection is ludicrous. I'm just impressed that most people haven't killed anyone. That's amazing enough.
Anyways, I would like to link you all to the back episodes of Buncocky Cast. If that doesn't work you can just search Buncocky Cast in the itunes store. The reason being that season 2 begins this week, so you may want to catch up or listen to it for the first time. Or not. But maybe...
No I am not on drugs right now.
So my basic rule for voting (which I do every year, so that I'm allowed to complain to old ladies who suggest I'm not allowed to complain if I don't vote) is to always vote 3rd Party. If there is no 3rd Party (which there usually isn't in smaller positions), I always vote against whoever is the incumbent, because fuck them. A politician is only good if I have suitcases full of $100 bills and 3 bitches sucking my dick all day long. Whenever that starts happening, I'll vote for incumbents. If there are no incumbents, I vote against the party that had the position last. If there's only one person, I don't vote, because I don't live in fucking Swaziland forced to vote for only one person. I guess I kinda do if we get into anybody-but-bushisms, but I digress...
Anyways, there are actually FOUR non-regular faggot party candidates on the ballot in my state. I found it here. I have the choice of Cynthia McKinney (green party black lady), Ralph Nader (flips cars over to see how safe they are party), Chuck Baldwin (constitution be awesome party), and Bob Barr (libertarian pedophile party). Right off I don't like Bob Barr much because of the Borat movie, though Wayne Allan Root (of guiding you into losing money on betting football games fame) is his VP candidate. The Constitution party, as great as it seems, has short-haired white dudes repping it. If there was some dude that looked like Charles Manson, I'd vote for them with all three of my aliases. But props to them for getting on the ballot in VA. Nader, I don't know, I was behind him before, but it seems like ego now more than ever. So I guess I'll vote for Cynthia McKinney, just because. I heard a fake debate after the last debate, where they spliced in comments from McKinney (in-studio) and Nader (on the phone) with shit from the actual debate, and it was funny as fuck to hear, but I liked McKinney. She's far more inspiring to me than some fake-ass alternative Democrat from Chicago or some war kook daddy's boy fuckface old dude. And mad crazy props to my man Gene Amondson for getting on the ballot in 5 states for the Prohibition Party. Trust me bro, I got drunked up like mad last week, was running around in the cold with no shirt on, and had some married chick sitting on my lap trying to usurp my happy marriage. I can understand the Prohibition Party like a motherfucker.
I know some of you are straight bullshit while others are down ass motherfuckers. I found this test that will help to sort the studs from the duds. Feel free to post your results in the comments section so we can finally figure out who among us is true blue. I, for starters, am "The Truiest Bkluiest Crip der is." Testify
RIP Rudy Ray Moore. You were too awesome for the earth.
There's this thing that you may have heard about called silent raves. It's when a bunch of dorks gather with their ipods and dance to their own music playing in their headphones. I think I speak for all Dumpin contributors when I say that if you have ever participated in one of these, then stop reading. You are not our target demographic and we have quotas to fill, so stop wasting our time. If you still can't grasp the magnitude of this phenomenon, then here's a video:
Yep.
Hi guys.
The Dumpin.net cast and crew is currently hard at work in our secret underground lair, fussing over beakers and sharpening our Kung Fu skills so that we can bring you the return of some revamped and re-imagined EWA craziness. It's going to be super. It's going to be better than super-- it's going to be like fucking machine guns.
Before I go back into the secret underground lair clubhouse of insanity, I'd like to give a shout out to the faggot who stole my laptop, my ipod, my books, Mike Dikk's ipod, and Mike Dikk's Xbox. Fuck you. If I ever find out who you are I will tattle to the highest authorities and press charges. Then, I will make myself big and black (penis included), get arrested, and fuck you in the ass every day for the rest of your life. Does that make me gay? I do not care. I will suffer to make you suffer worse. Faggot.
Here is a video. It's kind of old,but funny and rap related:
My truck failed Virginia state inspection for legality, because I needed a new center link (which explain the looseness of steering, but it's really not that bad). So being the type of guy who unexplainedly feels impotent if he can't fix his own vehicle, I decided to get the part and figure it out (with the help of my trusty Haynes Manual). I go to the four-lane miracle mile auto parts places, meaning Advance Auto and Autozone, and neither of them has the part, but Advance could order it and have it the next day. I am reluctant because their alternators suck (if you buy one from them for replacing on your vehicle, don't tighten the bolts too tight, because you're gonna have to do it again in four months). Advance Auto is white and bright and usually has like four young white guys working there, one middle-aged black guy (who is the cool one, but usually outside in the parking lot with the battery/alternator testing cart, talking to someone from high school), and one fat creepy redneck woman. You really want to catch one of the white guys (again, ideally the black guy, but he's never inside) to try and find your part. Autozone I completely don't trust because it has too many spinner wheel covers and Mexicans with frosted hair to ever feel comfortable inside of.
So I was about to give up when I accidentally drove by a Federated Auto Parts place in the older part of town. I figured, fuck it, and stopped in. There was very little actual shelf space for customers peruse, basically just one long ass wooden counter, painted with grey oil paint and covered with promotional bullshit from ten years ago, and a small army of older dudes waiting to see what I needed. Most of the shit you could buy was behind them in long thin library-like aisles, and you could tell from looking at these geezers interact, some had worked here for going on 15, 20 years. It was really beautiful, the way America used to be, where you got a job, and so long as you didn't fuck up, they didn't fuck you up. You might not have dental insurance, but you got Labor Day paid, and the carpet down the aisles behind the counter was well worn by brown shoes. The guy who happened to help me had facial hair exactly like my dad, just my dad died at 47 and this guy was easily pushing 55, so it was like my dad got old and we didn't know each other and he had to look up a center link for a Nissan truck on a computer he wasn't completely comfortable punching buttons on. (They still have like five feet of giant, crinkly-paged catalogs in the middle of the counter, where the parts are listed for real old school style, in case they have to get all old school on you. That's beautiful too, because if the power system failed, those other places would be lost with no computers to process every fucking thing they do. At least I know if our electrical grid completely blows up one weekend, I can still get some new brakes or spark plugs for my car to help pass the powerless time.) They also didn't have my part, but they could get it too. Unlike the Advance Auto androids, who were like, "Please transmit your creditory information to us and we can process this automobile part into our coordinates by 1400 hours one daily cycle into the future thank you customer #281093760," the Federated dude was like, "I don't know if it'll be here tomorrow. Hold on." And he called over a taller, older dude who was like, "Well damn man. Usually if we order it by 4, we have it tomorrow morning." It was 4:20 brah. "We should be able to get it here though, it ain't comin' from but Staunton." I told them to go ahead and order it, so I paid with my stupid credit card since I'm broke of any real monies right now. The older, taller guy said, "Call up here tomorrow and make shore it came in before you come up here." "How late are you open?" "Not but till 2, and make sure you get here 'cuz we are outta here at two." Then he turned to my fake old dad and said, "Make shore you put on there for Dave that he's gonna call in the morning to see if it came in." I was stoked, whether the part came or not, I felt good about supporting America, about doing my part, whatever little part that was. Fixing my own car and keeping this crazy old fuckers in business.
Next day, the part was there, so after coaching U-6 soccer, I rolled to town to get the part. Came home, wrong part completely, for a 4x4 and I have a 2WD, which I told my old fake dad. Oh well. While I was under there, I realized it was the idler arm and not the center link, and the only place I could get a center link anyways was from the dealer, which was like $400. So I returned the wrong center link, and being they was old school, the older tattooed guy who took my return gave me cash instead of returning the money to my credit card, which I had told my wife they would probably do, since it wasn't a shiny, sterile ass place. They deal in cash first, even on returns. So I had $110 all of a sudden, even though I had been broke. And that is how I had money for a six-pack on my ride home today, in my wife's car, because I had yet to change the idler arm on my truck, and it's been sitting on jack stands half the week. At least I have jack stands now. When it was just my Volvo, I used solid cinderblocks (for foundations), which always looked good passing by on the road. That Volvo has been sitting there under the oak tree with two flat tires for like 20 months now. I should just put it up on cinderblocks again and throw the tires in the back of the truck until I have actualy money again to get new ones put on the rims. Then I can have two cars, all to myself. We Americans sometimes don't realize how fucking good we got it.
Here is a stupid video for you to watch if you’re so inclined. Mike Dikk and I sat around on an internet hangout sesh and watched these for a couple of hours. There was an underlying sadness to our cynical banter because we were forced to ponder if we're really any better than these fools. Are we just substituting wrestling with rap music and other dumb random idiocracies in order make ourselves feel bigger than ourselves? I'd like to think not, but...whatevs. These guys are douchebags and at 7:54 it gets awesome.
I really want a Bloody Mary right now, but I’m forced to drink some crappy leftover Majorska Gin mixed with shitty near-flat Mountain Dew because I cannot afford vodka or tomato juice. I have Bloody Mary making down to an Arts & Science. In better times, when I could afford a 12 dollar jug of Dubra, I could make a Bloody Mary that would turn all nonbelievers into religious followers. Now, all I have is shitty Mountain Dew and a three year old quarter bottle of rusty bullshit and horrible Youtube Wrestling Roundtables. If my mom wasn't passed out from her Xanax hustle she'd be proud.
xoxoxo,
Jay Pud
Remember when Coolio was the most bestest rapper in the universe? Remember when Gangsta's Paradise change the way we all looked at rap music and socio-economical politics? Do you remember those warm summer days when you and your friends would go slide, slide, slippity sliding on a fantastic voyage led by Coolio? And remember when Coolio wanted to beat Weird Al's ass for making fun of him? I do. And if you do, too, then tell me if this is surprising or oddly appropriate:
Youtube has a shitload of these Cookin' with Coolio videos. I'm not sure if this is some old internet shit or I just stumbled upon a goldmine of genius, but if this old hat, then you all are dicks for not sharing this with me earlier.
Apparently, Coolio also has a book of recipes coming out. I pulled this article from The Guardian UK. If you don't usually read the articles I pull from that website, you should read this one.
This made me laugh. I stole it from bestweekever.tv, and I think funnyordie.com posted it too, but, fuck it.
All of America’s economic problems don’t bother me nearly as much as the robot situation. We are clock ticks away from having thinking machines. Frank Herbert’s “Dune” prophesized this shit and so, as one with the patience to read a 700 page science fiction novel, I issue forth warnings to all of you guys. This article from The Guardian proves the evil that man does.
"Can machines think? That was the question posed by the great mathematician Alan Turing. Half a century later six computers are about to converse with human interrogators in an experiment that will attempt to prove that the answer is yes.
In the 'Turing test' a machine seeks to fool judges into believing that it could be human. The test is performed by conducting a text-based conversation on any subject. If the computer's responses are indistinguishable from those of a human, it has passed the Turing test and can be said to be 'thinking'...
...Professor Kevin Warwick, a cyberneticist at the university, said: 'I would say now that machines are conscious, but in a machine-like way, just as you see a bat or a rat is conscious like a bat or rat, which is different from a human. I think the reason Alan Turing set this game up was that maybe to him consciousness was not that important; it's more the appearance of it, and this test is an important aspect of appearance.'"
I have a sort of fetish for Sarah Palin and it is not because she is hot, because she is not hot. It’s not because she’s potentially powerful, either. I have the same fetish for the like-minded idiot moms I see picking up their kids at school while I am there to get my kid. I want to fornicate with them because it would be the realest, dirtiest, nastiest, most pathetic piece of sex that they would ever have.
I have this weird suspicion that “soccer moms,” or on a more racist tip, “hockey moms,” have an actual living person deep in their gullets; a person with likes and dislikes that come from a place far beyond which reality show to watch and Jennifer Aniston. Deep down lives that girl who used to write poetry in her diary with amazing imagery and metaphors pulled from her backyard, and she didn’t care if it sounded corny because it came from an honest place inside of her and nobody was ever going to see it because it was written in her diary. A real, actual person made up of unprogrammable feelings and intellectual thoughts pulled down from unintelligence. It’s her carnal representative that gives her the raunchiest of her masturbatory fantasies—the ones where she gets invaded by a nasty whore of a dude who might have diseases and probably would steal some shit before leaving, but bones with such a lack of concern for her well being that she wouldn’t feel self-conscious about spraying him with all kinds of vaginal juices. Basically, a real individual not trained and tamed by years of social conditioning.
Whenever I talk to these women I feel like I am being judged for being pasty and tattooed (not badass tattoos like eagles or American flags or tribal arm bands, just stupid tattoos that actually mean something to me) but deep down they’re storing my image for when their husbands go to pool league and they’re left alone to drink half a bottle of Merlot, pop a few Xanax, and rub one out. They think of me coming to their house, eating the roast beef sandwich from husband’s lunch tin, and then whipping my dick out and saying some shit like “Get crazy.”
Also, another reason why I think I wanna bone down with Sarah Palin is because I am too poor for her politics to hurt me, at least so far as economics go, and so while she can’t really fuck me, I could fuck her. I didn’t have shit to begin with so the fact that the economy is fucking up only increases the already insurmountable probability that I will never get shit. But there’s no way I’d vote for Sarah Palin. I would never vote for someone with poor enough judgment to think of me when they masturbate.
It is no wonder America is fucked and we have the retard parade we have, making their little power point debate presentation bullshits. We are fucked because we, on average, expect someone else to do shit for us. We expect someone else to come along and save us. We want change so badly and both of these rich fags are running around dropping "change this" and "change that" and all these suckers are investing emotional attachment to one or the other, but especially Barack Obama, thinking, "Well great, finally somebody's gonna make the change for me."
My wife bought 150 pounds of seconds apples for $10 at a local orchard the other day, plus a couple five gallon buckets of pears, and I think some other shit. So I needed to get a few things to get a canning operation together. Went to one grocery store. Nothing. Went to a Wal-Mart. Nothing. Nothing anywhere. One grocery store had an empty shelf where the shit would be, but that did me no fucking good. But you know what every Wal-Mart and every grocery store did have? Organic food aisles, usually with wood motif and green letters and earthy tones. No fucking quart-sized mason jars to can up some food though.
This comes home to me in Scottsville, where the local shithole grocery store that had trophies on display from meatcutting skills competitions in the early '80s, is getting emptied little by little, as they're not restocking a lot of things because of the Food Lion being built next door. Lots of locals are excited for the Food Lion, because of cleaner floors, one of the aforementioned froufrou organic aisles. But there won't be any canning supplies anywhere to be found. And all the old shit is gone from the local shithole store, and they won't be restocking because why would they? Maybe I should ask Joe, the owner/manager, to order me up some this week. He would do that. He knows us by face. His wife runs the diner downtown and they make some good ass hamburgers there. We used to get them to save their gallon-sized glass pickle jars for us.
Anyways, no canning bullshit yet, and 150 pounds of ginger gold apples in the kitchen. Hopefully the Dollar General will have the hook-up because they tend to have that type of stuff. But it's kind of telling that you can buy Annie's Organic Frozen Pizzas pretty much anywhere, but not a fucking mason jar. As much as we act like we be wanting change, but we don't want to do shit for ourselves. Let someone else do it. That's why I'm gonna vote for McCain/Palin, because Obama ain't gonna change shit. It's still dudes in suits talking about bullshit I don't care about. I'd rather see this motherfucker burn. That's some real change. Burn it all up and see what sprouts next. I figure McCain's an old ass fucker with skin cancer bubbling up underneath the Botox, and Sarah Palin, who ruined my Tina Fey fantasies by exposing what she's gonna look like in 15 years - kinda creepy and librarian-ish, is your average beauty pageant dumb bitch. Which would be great to have as President if McCain died. Bush has done a great job screwing things up, to a point closer to absolute breakdown than we've ever been in my life, and I'd really love to see Palin end up in office to hold the course. Too many people are caught up in their little bullshit anybody-but-Bush-finally back deck margarita get-togethers to embrace a real change. Because those fuckers are fat and comfortable just like political cartoon Wall Street caricatures, except those fuckers do yoga and eat sprouts and wild salmon to stay more visually fit. They're still fat and rich compared to the shit I've known most of my life. So fuck yall too. I'm voting for Sarah Palin, even though that rich stuck-up bitch probably wouldn't know how to can up some apples either.
I have a few friends and relatives who regularly ask me what I have against modern R&B. I tell them I hate it because it fucking sucks for the most part, and this right here is State's Exhibit A:
If you can make it through this, you will learn that he did her wrong and she did him wrong and they both did wrong and it was wrong. Also that they have to stick it out. And work it out. And stick it out. And he ain't trying to waste yo time. Or my time. Or no time. Because they've put in too much time.
Seriously, if you like this shit, I don't know what is wrong with your brain. You have terrible taste in music, and this is coming from a man who has blogged about the underappreciated genius of Deion Sanders in the last calendar year. It's like YTMND: R&B edition. Unlike Baltimore House (which is also fairly mindless and YTMND-esque), it's not even amusing. It's even worse than the whiniest piece of shit Keith Sweatt song, which is saying a lot.
In closing, fuck modern R&B.
I did my best to contribute to the end of America last weekend. We were riding home from Richmond and had to eat, even though we had no money, so we tapped that credit card that should've been scissored up already one more time, getting stuck on the edge of town towards home in chain restaurant nightmare land. We ended up going to T.G.I.Fridays, and knew it was a mistake as soon as we walked in, all dark fake wood and shitty teenagers on the wait staff. But the kids would've had breakdown and blood sugar mutinies, so we sat down, and proceeded to waste $70 of fake money on some shitty ass food. It tasted like shit, being we usually cook our own, but I looked around and there were all these pig-like people, stoked to be there, sharing fried green beans and some mystery sauce next to us. It was disturbing as fuck and made me want to join Al-Qaeda. I stopped going to any Chinaman buffets for the same reason, sitting there one day and seeing all the pig people waddling around happily towards their slaughterhouse death. Very Fear & Loathing like, yeah, but I am sensitive to it. Can't help it. I got weird DNA fibers inside of me.
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