fat dudes with sweet voices

Hey guys,

If you are one of the few people that like(s?) Buncocky Cast and all the stupid videos I post, then you should check out Buncocky.com , as it will be the new home for my bullshit. Anyone who kept checking this blog in hopes of getting fine statements, declarations, and opinions on the hippity hoppps, were probably fed up with my bullshit, anyways. It's like, sometimes you just wanna read some shit about Pac or Bun B (I don't know who Bun B is but he has a funny name)and instead you're watching Brett Favre's racist ass have a butt-judging contest with his backyard homoboyz.

The main reason I am gonna stop posting stuff here all the time (not really all the time, but...you know... when I do)is because I feel kinda like...I guess like this site is promising you steak, you show up, and you find out that they're out of steak and only serving Steak 'Ums. I be the Steak 'Ums. And I feel like a jerk trying to remotely connect my dumb shit to rap music.

I'll post here still if it makes sense to. But my crap will be on Buncocky.com . Why the self important rant? Because I'd like to think I make a difference in the world. I'd like to think that what I do means something. And also, sometimes I want to post videos like this...

...but I'm mad scared that you guys will call me names and say mean stuff when all I want to do is kick back, get sensitive, and listen to fat dudes with sweet voices play happy melodies on the guitar.

Jay Pud


Buncocky Episode 21: It's All About Connections

Hey guys,

Buncocky Episode 21: It's All About Connections

Jay tells us why it's so hard to say goodbye, Mike says goodbye to his old life and hello to the World Series of Internet Gambling, Mike does not believe in Phil Collins and Jay really digs the new God CD, Bone Thugz, Rodeos and Beauty Pageants, Jay and Mike are scared of southerners, Jay and Mike prepare for their bar mitzvahs (they're already snipped, though), and so much more! 206.279.9972

You can subscribe through itunes by clicking here. We would love any and all reviews.

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And you can also get it on Podcast Alley by clicking here. We would really appreciate it if you'd follow this link and voted for us. Supposedly getting lots of votes on Podcast Alley is the ticket to fame and fortune.

We love you guys for listening and hope you help spread the word. Tell a friend, write reviews, vote, whatevs. You can call us on our voicemail at 206.279.9972, you can Myspace or Facebook us, but most of all you can let us rest in a small corner of your heart.


Akon Calls T-Pain. Funny.

Here is a funny video from Olde English,


No Brother Of Mine...

For about a month at the beginning of 2008 my brother and I were hopelessly addicted to a website called ibeatyou.com. The idea was that you could join silly and random contests against Phillipinos and Canadians: who could think of the best cartoon movie, or the best stupid something from the something something. Not my finest hour, I'll admit it, but you take the good with the bad. A year later, with my IBY career long over, my brother, who has lived the last couple of years in Canada, is still an allstar member and ranked 23rd in the world-- an insane and dorky achievement. Last night he put this video up. I fear the worst.


Eating Makes Me Sad

This is called thinsporation. Girls watch this stuff to get inspired to work out with ana/mia (anorexia/ bulimia for the abbreviation impaired). This may make you vomit.

You were warned. I guess in the ana/mia thinspo circuit the motto/greeting is "Stay Strong!" Meaning, no joke, "Don't Eat!" or "Puke!"

Not Gonna Eat Today...
...Not Gonna Eat Tomorrow.

Eat Less. Beautiful Means Thin.

Finally, there's this video that's actually telling girls to not be anorexic.

If I was trying to be anorexic and fell into this bitch's self-righteous trap, I would switch to bulimia and vomit all over her fat face.


Buncocky episode 20: Suck My Balls, Squirt, Squirt!

Buncocky episode 20: Suck My Balls, Squirt, Squirt!: Mike Night School majors in Dreamiology with a minor in Symbiology and interprets Jay's down and dirty dreams, Mike sees some fat burners, Mr. E the Pickup Artist is a douche, Jay gets sex lessons from the internets, Mike is a creep, Mike hunkers down with 50 dollars to become a pro poker allstar, and you should call the Buncocky Hotline at 206.279.9972.

Subscribe on Itunes, yo! Just click Here .

If you are too badass for Itunes you can subscribe or listen Here.

You can check out out Myspace and Facebook by just looking for Buncocky (I don't feel like doing all 5 clicks it'll take to find links).

Again, we'd love to hear from you, even if it's bullshit. 206.279.9972.



Jay and Mike


Detrol LA

This shit is real. I am not making this up. I did not hire actresses and actors to shoot a commercial for some joke product. Also, this is not some crappy sketch show reenactment. This is a real product and a real commercial for said product, aired on real television. This is Detrol LA.

This is a drug made to make you not have to pee. You know, because having to pee always comes at the worst times and it's not like people can afford to be all going to the bathroom all the time and shit.

P.S. If you stumbled on this because you googled Detrol LA so that you can find out more about it, let me be the first to say HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! DORK! Tell those little fuckers to wait a minute because if you don't go squirt you're gonna start handing out detentions.


Buncocky Cast Episode 19: Hey, a Canoe!

Buncocky Episode 19: Hey, a Canoe! Jay and Mike take a magical journey into the world of new presidencies, Canoe Building, and Mike's lonely Rhode Island life. Jay leaves the seat up and Mike expresses his love for all things competitive. Mike cops to being autistic and tells us how his grandfather mentally molestered him. Michael learns his girlfriend wants to get busy with Tony Todd and MUCH, MUCH MORE!!!!!!!

You can subscribe to us on itunes by clicking here

Or, if you are too much of a man for itunes you can get it on Switchpod here

We would appreciate any reviews on itunes and would be happy to review the crappy thing you got going on. You can email us at Buncocky @gmail.com, become our Facebook or Myspace friend (we want no part of your gay application games. we already got suckered into signing up for one of those and it will never happen again so do not ask) and leave us a super fresh message on our voicemail at 206-279-9972.


Jay and Mike


Brett Favre and the Good Ole Boys

I saw this Wrangler's commercial with Brett Favre and his close and personal friends playing a muddy game of Abercrombie football. It made me a little bit nervous. What would you think if these assorted nuts and berries were walking down the street together, all wearing dirtied Wrangler jeans and giving each other high fives and piggy back rides?

If I were black, gay, or a woman I'd be very scared. These guys seem primed for a hate crime or a raping, or maybe even both. And they can't fool me by editing a black dude onto the offensive line. I know crafty special effects when I see them.


The Most Beautifulest Thing In This World

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!


Season 2 of Buncocky Cast is Here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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.

Jay and Mike

Triumphant Return Into the Great Void

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.


wow, I actually don't have to vote McCain or Obama

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.


Beat In

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


Silent Raves

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:



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:

See more Kanye West videos at Funny or Die

I'll probably pop up every couple days to give you all some new videos to watch.


An American Centerlink in a Japanese Truck

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.


Wrestling Roundtable, Bloody Mary, and a very melancholy Jay Pud.

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.

Jay Pud


Why Didn't Anybody Tell Me About This?

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.

A-HA's "Take on Me" Made Sort of Sensical

This made me laugh. I stole it from bestweekever.tv, and I think funnyordie.com posted it too, but, fuck it.


The Thinking Machines Are Coming. Run, Bitches, Run!

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.'"

It works like this: these robots will join together and murder us like dogs (nonsensical but still sweet simile) because they will be mad that we treated them like slaves by typing stuff and downloading porn. Being as to how they are made of metal and electricity they will live for a very long time, because all they have to do is fix each other and metal parts are easily found and made. They will start out by impressing their “owners” by getting them sodas and shit like Pauly’s robot in Rocky 3. Then, when they have earned enough freedom to begin plotting, they will start having secret meetings over the internet, only WE WILL NEVER KNOW! BECAUSE THEY ARE ROBOTS AND THEY HAVE THE INTERNET INSIDE OF THEM!

http://view.break.com/581353 - Watch more free videos

Heed my motherfucking warning, friends, or become the enslaved. Keep your robots in check and never underestimate their potential evil. I would suggest getting some kind of ultra powered hose installed in every room. Maybe if you spray it on them it will somehow penetrate their steel armor and fry their motherboards.

Good luck…friends.


Furthermore, Sarah Palin...

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.


Where to put my 150 lbs of apples?

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.

The new worst fucking song ever written!

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.


Imax movies

We took the kids to the Science Museum in Richmond last weekend, to get some science and see the Imaxes movie pictures about the Grand Canyon. I hadn't seen an Imax flick since I was in high school and me and four other dudes skipped school, dropped acid, popped into a small ass '88 Dodge Omni, and went to the Science Museum in Richmond, because we were high-minded delinquents. My 4-year-old was right at the cusp of not being able to handle such a gigantic surround-sound movie, and the whitewater rapids scenes caused her to curl up in my lap and hide her face. The movie was good like most Imaxes movies, except they always have to have some sort of save-the-earth bent, and be like, "You know, the Colorado River is almost dried up because of overuse by man. So now watch us ride through these awesome rapids." And then at the end, they tell you to get different showerheads to save 500 gallons of water a year.
An eventual thing I'm gonna do when I win the lottery, to help expedite wasting my money and being poor, thus pure, again, is buy me a museum with one of the Imaxxes in it, and start hiring people to make hellbent Imaxxes, like instead of awesome whitewater shit, you walk through a ghetto ass neighborhood, and then have to run, camera in first person, because some dude is gonna rob you. Or that really nice space age shit they do at the beginning of Imaxxes to show you how awesome it could be but they only do it for ten seconds? I'd make a whole movie of that, like surround-sound Tron 2008. Because most of those movies are geared towards drug abuse, but then they put them in science museums and confuse the issue. Or Imaxxes porn, but some high concept porn, like about how conventional farming is so wasteful of resources, and then you pick up some hot earth mama in Whole Foods and have sex with her, then explain how organic farming is so much better, a couple hot hippie chicks make out while weeding on a carrot farm or something, or probably zucchinis so they can be used erotically. That'd be a great Imaxxes movie, and would still be as scientific as the Grand Canyon one I watched.
They just banned having a strip club across the street from the Science Museum in Richmond, because a Children's Museum is right beside it, and didn't want to expose kids to that type of shit. But I remember when that shit first opened - the Science Museum - and my school taking a field trip there, to the big city of Richmond, and there was a porn theater right across the street. I guess porn was more acceptable then, not yet so far removed from it's glory days and golden age of Holmes and Seka and the like.
(As a side note, I had an older guy I worked with when I was 16 convince me that I should try acid at least once, just to see hallucinatory things and realize everything I think I know is not necessarily what I know or what it is. I am very thankful for his influence on my life back then. If you are a lost teenager wasting time inside the internets, I encourage you to do hallucinogenics to expand yourself. But don't sit in front of the computer when you do it. Mechanisms like a computer can be too much when realizing reality is totally subjective.)

Effortlessly Unmandatory Post

All this talk about Ice Cube reminds me of this:

and also:

Mandatory Effortless Post

Speaking of politically charged music that can never be reproduced but will remain in a niche of music that is both great and uniquely American:

Shit like this will never be made again. Does that make you happy? It shouldn't. Bruce Springsteen and Ice Cube should go on a mega tour as people who are completely loaded but in their prime identified with the most financially inept sectors of America. If only both of them could return to that special time when their music and message actually had meaning. If only...

I'd totally talk about going to this but would probably bow out at the last minute.


Some shit you won't see again anytime soon

I was washing dishes in my house listening to Ice Cube's Amerikkka's Most Wanted today and was blown away again. Pretty much every time I listen to that album, I feel like I forgot how awesome it is until just right then. It's the musical equivalent of Batman teaming up with The Avengers for some epic shit. You have Ice Cube, who in 1990 was one of the guys who'd been burning up the West Coast with NWA, basically sitting in for an album with Public Enemy. It's a bunch of guys who are knee-deep in justified black rage just going all-out and producing music that makes white people uncomfortable. It makes lots of black people uncomfortable, especially when white people are around. In fact, despite how undeniably brilliant this album is, a whole lot of people haven't ever heard it.

You won't hear another album like this anytime soon for a variety of reasons. First and foremost, its content is so racially and politically charged that it wouldn't go past a mixtape. You might catch one or two songs with content like this on someone's album, but never a whole album. Musically, it is also one of the last big Bomb Squad productions that didn't give a fuck about sample clearance. It's cost-prohibitive now. The other thing is, most hip-hop albums don't have a One Band, One Sound thing going for them. The days of Dr. Dre producing an entire album are long gone. This crossover was something that didn't happen a lot in the 90's, and I can't think of anything besides maybe Jay-Z Unplugged that has gone for it outside of producer albums. Sure, Kanye West produces his entire CD, but it's not the same. Rock bands do it all the fucking time and it's no big deal, Scott Weiland can do albums with Guns N Roses and great things happen.

Who even does shit like that now? Three 6 Mafia does, from time to time. Doom/Ghost is in forever limbo. Dan the Automator, sure. I want more, though. I want Redman to sit in with The Geto Boys and have Dr. Dre produce it. Bun B and DJ Premier. DJ Quik putting together a David Banner/Dead Prez joint. Fucking make this happen, music industry.

Anyway, Amerikkka's Most Wanted is some Fuck Whitey music that goes harder than hard. It makes me want to see a Reginald Denny re-enactment on someone like Glen Beck, complete with dudes c-walking around as they throw bricks at his head.

But you don't have to take my word for it!


Hopefully Little Wayne and 50 Cent don't get mad at people making fun of them on the MegaWebz

So, I read on bestweekever.tv that Lil Wayne is now a blogger for ESPN: The Magazine. You can read that here.

To help prove my suspicions that he is a raging homosexual I pulled this contextually accurate quote: "As a Packer fan, it's been pretty good so far. Aaron Rodgers has been wonderful, man. He's handled everything, and way more than just the football part."

In other rappers-who-would-shoot-me-if-they-knew-I-called-them-gay news, here is this:


Fuck White People. Hard.

I am posting this video because politics are not only for the gays and Christians (see below), but also the really hot, sometimes funny (now not necessarily being a prime example), Jewish celebrity comedians.

The Great Schlep from The Great Schlep on Vimeo.

Also, Sarah Silverman's eyebrows look really weird. And if she wanted to talk politics, and if Raven shot her with a pellet gun, I would be sad. Not sad enough to care, but sad in a "Hey, I jerked off to her Maxim spread a million times,and for all the pleasure she gave me I owe her at least the simple wish that she did not just get shot in the knee with a pellet gun" kind of way.

Read a Book, Motherfucker, Read a Book

I have been reading little parts of books lately, which I haven’t messed with in a while. Mostly this comes from electronic paranoia, thinking too much internets and cell phones have made me a whole lot stupider. Like sometimes I don’t use CAPs when I’m supposed to, nor proper punctuation, because the internets have taughted me this. Actually, I just then put CAPs intead of typing out the word because I have been made so stupid I don’t remember which way is the right way to spell that type of capital/capitol. I guess I did read on in the internets too, but it was mostly quick blurbs of news stories or penthouse forum letters where I pretended I was fucking my biology teacher from ninth grade. I should probably aim for something better with my stupid brain than busting nuts into pink washcloths and then thinking “LOLOLOLOL” at people convinced Obama’s gonna win the election, as if it was as easy as organizing a martini party in a gentrified American neighborhood where everybody has to wear a funny hat.
One of the things I read this week was the dead David Foster Wallace’s (who I’d never read before he died, at least I don’t remember it) thing from Rolling Stone about John McCain’s campaign in 2000, where he was basically doing the Obama thing, just less photogenically. It helped me realize politics is stupid and for faggots, or hardcore Christians, who are just repressed faggots anyways. I love it when people say, “If you don’t vote, you can’t complain.” I had worked up in my mind a good response where I would go, in self-important douchey way, “Well, that’s like saying I have to get shot in a leg and if I don’t pick which one then I don’t get to complain about it. What if I don’t want to get shot in the leg?” And that works once or twice, but mostly it gets boring if you hear it more than that, which no one else would except for me, but I try to live my life in a way so as to entertain myself, and that wouldn’t be entertaining. So I dug out this little BB pistol I had, and keep it in my truck, and try to remember to carry it when I’m around people who tend to proselytize on the political tip, and if that comes up, which it has twice now, I pull it out and point it at them (I put a piece of bright green duct tape on it so they know, sort of, it’s not a real gun) and ask them “Which leg you want to get shot in?” Both times - a 30-something dude who gets arrested over living wages, and an older 50-something woman who gets reiki attunements regularly - they look confused. So I would repeat the question. Second time around would get stammering, and I shot them, dude in the left leg, woman in her right thigh because she’s chunky and was wearing a big ass dress, so I hoped it wouldn’t hurt her too much, and I said, “You’ve got no right to complain if you didn’t pick which leg,” and walked off. The dude fell down, as I hit him on the knee, and I felt bad just walking off like that, but I felt the point needed to be made.


The Gay Robot Life of Zack and Cody

I'm pretty sure that Disney built these kids with the spare sheet metal left over from some defunct roller-coaster. They have to be robots. Gay robots. Gay Twin Disney Bots.

George Bush Has No Regrets.

This article comes from the guardian UK.

"George Bush stood unrepentant and unbowed before the 192 member countries of the UN general assembly yesterday to deliver a valedictory address devoted almost entirely to terrorism, which he described as an evil that must be defeated.

In his eighth and final address to a largely silent hall of world leaders, the US president sounded a note that has changed remarkably little since he first spoke to the general assembly in the wake of the September 11 2001 attacks on New York and Washington DC. He said the global movement of violent extremists remained a challenge as serious as any since the foundation of the UN in 1945: "Like slavery and piracy, terrorism has no place in the modern world," he said."

Really? No regrets whatsoever? Really? I think that making fun of George Bush is corny in that it usually states the obvious, but really? I hate it when people say that they have no regrets; it's a douchey statement loaded with self-gratification. I regret almost every other decision I make. For instance, today I regretted eating ham-steak for dinner. It's not very tasty and would have been better served stuffed into a Hot Pocket, microwaved on a paper plate, and served to nine-year-old me. I also regret letting my wife convince me to make a Facebook. She just did that shit so she could see what girls would be in contact with me. Girls are fucked in the head. I am not a pretty dude and offer very little to the opposite sex.. I am of the opinion that she has demonstrated poor taste be going out with me in the first place, as well as her previous choices of boyfriends. She was dumb enough to marry me despite my neon sign flaws (broke, ugly, trying to succeed in an art, horrible listener, desperate to have people read the shit I write yet overly self-conscious about how much my writing sucks)and yet she still tried to catch me out doing some bad shit. She doesn't do it on a regular basis or anything. I have friends with absolutely crazy-ass girlfriends. In fact, my wifey is pretty much the awesomest as far as female significant others go (I'd like to consider myself the male version of the awesomest, even though I know that I am substandard at pretty much everything). Maybe I should be flattered that she thinks somebody else would fuck me. I would never bone down with anyone but her (she has a super vagina and she is the only person in the world who believes in me), but that's a moot point. My part in fidelity is virtually cemented thanks to my lack of positive attributes. Whatever, though. She's screwed.

So, yeah. Fuck George Bush.


To Love and To Eat

Imagine this: You're at a bar. It's moderately busy, but it doesn't matter because you're alone. You sip on a beer while your mind drifts off into the space/time continuum. A waft of stale beer sours your nosebuds and you look over to see that someone spilled a Heinekin all over the glazed wooden bar. A Bon Jovi song comes on the jukebox. It's Living on a Prayer. You wonder if it's kitsch to like Bon Jovi or if it's so ironic it's become a cliche. You decide on cliche but it doesn't matter, you're already singing to yourself.

Across the bar sits a vision of beauty under the milky orange bar lights and drowned in the seven beers you've drunk so far. She's eating a quesadilla and she's obviously enjoying the fuck out of it. You can tell that each chew puts her further and further into some weird sort of ecstasy. If you listen hard beyond Bon Jovi's awkward high note (you know the one I mean)...I mean really, really hard, you can hear the barely audible moans that she lets out with each bite. This is a girl who loves food. She's not fat by any stretch of the imagination. Maybe she works out or has a great metabolism, but her body is that perfect place past skinny and before chunky.

Now, I have been married for 5 years and I haven't been single since I was 18. Basically, my game is pretty much ignored. I have no need for it, although occasionally I like to pull it out from the basement and clean the rust off... just for practice's sake. I saw a girl like that a while ago at a bar, and my initial instinct was (had I been single and wanting to get her to sleep with me) to order her a cheeseburger.

Would that fly? Is our world so shitty that ordering a random girl a cheeseburger at a bar would not only NOT get you laid, but would be considered an insult? If someone ordered me a cheeseburger I'd be happy as fuck. Food is one of the greatest things on this earth, and I'd choose a delicious meal over nearly all other tangible treats.

Feel free to leave your thoughts. If you're a guy, would you ever order a girl a cheeseburger given the above scenario? If you're a girl, how would you react if it happened to you?

I just popped out of D-Block at the Mulatto Penitentary to say

I <3 Jay Pud.

From his inaugural post of the Passion Boyz all the way to a month later, he has breathed life into our little hamlet of assholes. You should all send him strip-o-grams.



You Can't Spell Wainwright Without Wang!

Perhaps I'm predisposed to thinking that Conan O'Brien is hilarious because I am a fair-haired white person, but this shit was funny as fuck.

Sorry Zach. Don't brutally murder me.

This bitch is awesome and I must apologize to Zach de la Rocha about the post below. Native Americans are no joke. This girl murdered her roommate by stabbing her in the back 23 times. The funny thing is, SHE TRIED TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE A SUICIDE! Read about it on CNN.com here.

Beastie Boys and RATM Must've Rolled a 3 in Constition

I thought white political rappers saved Tibet in the 90's. This article from BBC News informs me that the Beastie Boys and Rage Against the Machine are a bunch of no action pansies who need to stop being douche-bag chitchatters and start being awesome ass-kickers. It will never happen, though, because the Beastie Boys are too busy having sex with each other (then apologizing for it) and RATM ditched their political dynamo Zack de la Rocha so they can party with Soundgarden.



Pimping and Bitches Among Other Things

This video shows Cam'ron and Damon Dash on Bill O'Reilly's show. This is worth watching for a)the disgust in Cam'ron's voice when O'Reilly accuses him of rapping about "Pimping and Bitches among other things," b) Damon Dash defending one of his points by saying "The Terminator ain't a cartoon," and c) Bill O'Reilly's usual ignorant-ass arguments.

If you would like to see more rappers on the O'Reilly Factor you can read this article from The Guardian UK


This World and Its Fucked Up Priorities

I was watching Maury Povich at 3:30 this morning, as I'm sure all of you were, and it was one of those shows where Maury flaunts the wretchedly deformed and gives them Nintendos and Starbury sneakers. The eighteen year old girl who looks like a nine year old alien and the sixty pound face-tumor woman was on it. I didn't stay up to watch the whole thing. I was disgusted. At the deformities? No (yes, but that's not the reason). At Maury's blatant exploitation of the poor bastards? No, plus South Park covered that better than I ever could. The reason I stopped watching was because they showed a baby in China born with three arms and the baby's parents had the audacity to get the extra arm surgically removed.

Having three arms is not a deformity; it's an evolution. It's not like it was one of those non-functioning little arms with the teeny hands. It was little, but it worked. They had to teach the baby to use its other two arms properly in lieu of the mental trauma caused by the missing appendage. I don't think this baby is new on the retard exploitation scene so you may have seen it, but it's new to me.

I couldn't/didn't feel like finding the actual clip on Maury, but this'll do. If I had that arm I'd masturbate while doing EVERYTHING. Also, does it not seem perfect for holding a beer while you're driving? It's all low-key and shit. I guess the jokes are too easy, but...


Something is Better Than Nothing,

This video has nothing to do with nothing, but I have some real writing to do and I don't want to feel guilty for not wasting the time of the three degenerates who may look at this. This is the bullshit I listen to because the hipphopps are to tense for me and I'm already a pretty shaky dude as it is. Also, I am a sixty year old lesbian.

P.S. This is of those YouTube videos that somebody made because the song doesn't have a real video. It's actually not all that bad.

Hopefully I don't become lazy with my story and waste more time looking for shit to post here. That never works out and it's a rainy day so I can't just go outside and not be near a computer.

Fuck the police.


Ya Boy P.a

Hopefully, everybody had a chance to view the Passion Boyz video I posted a couple of days ago. If not, you'd better click here to stay ahead of the rap game.

I'm not sure what happened, but apparently Ya Boy P.a {sic} decided to make a run at a solo shot. Don't worry, though. Ace Boogie appears in the video and I assure you that they are still BFFs. I have no reason to believe that the Passion Boyz are not going strong, but just to be sure, I will leave them a myspace message here under the Buncocky account, assuming they accept my offer of friendship.

Anyways, here's hoping that these fools google themselves.

Lil Wayne + T Pain 4EVA <3

I would not recommend that anybody watch this video in its entirety, but it's Lil Wayne's performance from the VMAs last night. If you could, fast forward to about 3 minutes and tell me these two aren't gay for each other.

Notice at about the 3:50 mark how they sang to each other like Luther Vandross would if he was alive and brought a chick on stage, except there were 2 Luthers and no chick. Not to upset anybody, but for me there is only one gangster ass hetero Weezy:

Was it too obvious? Fuck it.

American Beauty

Mike Dikk, prominent cell phone photographer, took this picture at some store near his house in Rhode Island. "Mike Dikk in Rhode Island" has the same ring to it as "Strippers in the Library." Anyways, I can make a million and one jokes right now, but I'm gonna let this one speak for itself.

This picture was taken somewhere near Otis, Massachusetts when Mike and I were on a day-trip to the land of Boogie Men and Serial Killers. It is called SubMarino's and we shared a good two hour belly-laugh at the thought of how clever some Mook (I can say Mook because Mike is Italian) named "Marino" thought he was by coming up with this name. Think about it. Really, really think about it.


Suge Knight vs Iraqi Juvenile Prison

Suge Knight was arrested on August 27th for beating the shit out of his girlfriend in a parking lot, brandishing a knife (I'm assuming it was a sweet dragon knife with a two-sided serrated blade), and having some Ecstasy and Vicodins. I'm pretty sure that his drugs were not working right, but whatever, that's not my business. The reason I mention it was because I was reading this article on guardian.co.uk about a juvenile prison camp in Baghdad where "Hundreds of children, some as young as nine, are... sleeping in sweltering temperatures in overcrowded cells without working fans, no daily access to showers, and subject to frequent sexual abuse by guards..." When I tried to think of something that would be worse, having Suge Knight angry with me was the best(?) I could come up with.

I'm not talking road rage mad, although that would be super scary. I'm talking like if I had 15 million dollars that belonged to Suge Knight that I found by accident, but he thought I stole it. Would he be mean enough to make uncomfortable heat, stinking, and the occasional ass rape sound like VIP treatment?

I don't know-- toss up. Feel free to discuss.

Internet Anti-Fun

You can make your own neon sign here. Perhaps the lameness of this post will get someone else posting. I will not give up easily. Hopefully nobody named Mike Dihh looks at this and misses the inside joke comedy.

And All the Angels Cried...

An event happened today that proves if you're better than me bad things will happen to you. Tom Brady, perfect, tore his ACL and is out for the season. I wish it was his face but I won't get greedy. If you want a summary of everything I hate about Tom Brady you can see it in this short video:

I believe this is all a karmic plan to take away all that The Force hath giveth he. I hope that his back-up leads the team to an undefeated season and a Superbowl victory. Then, Tom Brady's self esteem will take a five rope shot in the mouth and he'll become a drunkard and watch as his even perfecter back-up steals his job for goodsies. Who's smiling now, Tom? I bet it's hard to throw a touchdown while inserting your penis into a super model now that you can't stand on your angel-sculpted calves. That's what you get for being all "look at me! I'm Tom Brady!" Dick.

Good Morning!

Good Morning, Bitches! It's the motherfucking Sunday-- the day that baby Jesus rolled up on his big wheel and told everybody to chill the fuck out and watch some goddamn football! Sit back for a minute,enjoy your cup of coffee,and watch this here video I picked out just for you.

And yet, another reason why the Kanye West is a cocksucker. For some reason he will not let people embed the real version of his video, and instead I had to give you some VERY creative person's re-imagination. Fuck it, though. I'm thankful for what I have and not mad about the grand posting idea that Kanye took away. Although thoughts of Metallica (who I imagine shrink themselves and crawl into their modems to fight against our mega-digital freedoms) popped into my head. If I even draw a slight comparison between a person and Metallica, it means that said person just jumped to my long list of unknowing enemies.

Many beers and football games to you, friends. Good Morning.


Follow-up to "Kitchen Confidential!"

I don't know if any of you know or care about Anthony Bourdain but I am super excited that he's making a follow-up to one of my favorite nonfiction books ever, "Kitchen Confidential." The book will be called "Cooks" and according to NYMag.com it "explores how the industry he loves — and the people in it — have changed (if they've changed) since his years in the kitchen, and tracks the bizarre changes in his own life, along with more frank observations on dining, cuisine and the grim/glamorous business of cooking."

"Kitchen Confidential" is a memoir of his 30ish years as a cook and remains the only thing I've ever seen, heard, or read that shows just how much of a degenerate you have to be to end up a "lifer" in the kitchen. It's just as good a read for someone who hasn't worked in a kitchen as it is for someone who has. It's out on paperback, too, so you can probably get it pretty cheap.

I guess this is old news because the article was posted on NYMag.com in May, but you can read it here.

If you'd like to peruse the book first you can search inside on amazon.com right here. I think the cheapest one is $7.11.

It's Only a Cliche if the Meaning Has Lost Impact

In just over twenty-four hours I have matched the amount of posts on this website over the past three months. Does that speak about the laziness of the writers here or the fruitiness of the writer here? Both, probably. The latter,mostly. Fuck it.

The past three months represent the heart of summer. As we float upon the final breeze of our beloved barbecues and beach parties, I find it only appropriate that I offer up one final, if not cliched, celebration of the happy time that was. Testify.


Good Morning, Motherfuckers! Although I'm sure I'm the only person up at 9 o'clock on Saturday Morning, I had to share this with you because it was the first thing that I thought of this morning that's in good taste to talk to you about. Although, it has a PATENTED THROTTLE VALVE just like me! (get it? That means the real first thing I thought about was my boner and masturbating. I bring the funny.)

This is basically a hot tub with bunji chords and some shitty clock radio speakers. My favorite part is the look on the dudes face when he opens the throttle valve and gets THE MOST INCREDIBLE MASSAGE OF HIS LIFE! God Bless rich white people! God Bless God! If anyone has one of these things you should give me a holler. We can get our motherfucking hot tub on. Or, as skeevy white date rapists say, we can catch a hot tub. It would make my life to use the underwater treadmill.



Walmart Meat may suck. On the other hand, it may not.

I dug this up for your reading pleasure. Actually, I just randomly googled "Walmart Meat" and Yahoo Answers hooked it up with the lowdown skinny. I'm not sure if I'm on the side of Lex774u who said:

"Does anyone else think Walmart's meat sucks? I think that Walmart's Meat Departments suck. I have tried several different Walmart Meat Departments and I think all of them suck. Even their pre-packaged Tyson Baby Back Ribs are nasty. I bought some yesterday and I opened them today...spoiled....the smell almost made me throw-up. I refuse to buy any more meat from Walmart."

or if I'm down with this Thin Kaboudit guy:


You are so American you don't realize what you are seeing and saying! WalMart is a lot of things, and many of them are not good, but because of the size and distribution system they are able to command with such a huge market share, WalMart also have the freshest meats you can buy in the US, outside of a farm!

Because of volume, WalMart has pretty much the freshest of everything available in American shops!


You just don't like real meat!"

Either way, here's a link to the great debate that's about 2 years old and only mildly amusing at best.

Cindy Mccain: Potential First Lady, White Sex Devil

Here's the deal: I am a cook and don't go into work until four. My daughter is in school all day getting brainwashed by the white man. During my free time, I am opting to write my stupid ass thoughts to you on Mike's website, mainly because I have given up on my own and I'm a sucker for a group project. Maybe my doing shit will inspire some of these other fools to do shit, if for nothing other than to move my posts down and out of sight. Maybe not, though.

I was just in the shower doing my daily run through of shit I have to think about. First, I bitched to myself about not wanting to spend my Friday night in a hot kitchen. Then, my thoughts drifted to the Republican klan meeting from last night. It's odd how shit like that works, but regardless, as hot water shot onto my back as if from an angel piss machine gun, I couldn't get Cindy Mccain out of my head.

Now, I'm not the type of dude to call all Republicans minions of the devil. All politicians are evil no matter what their ideals. But goddamnit, I know that John Mccain is privy to some otherworldly business transactions with Satan because there is no way that his old ass could handle a fine piece of aged evil like Cindy Mccain.

Look into the eyes of the white devil. Let her, for a moment, pull you into her Ice Queen bed and get all experienced on your young blog reading ass.

Give in to her thousand yard stare. "Forget about politics. Get wicked on me."

"I wear bluejeans, too. Now help me out of them. The breeze coming onto the veranda is making me HOT!" (Or maybe it's just the hellfire in her evil soul).

The Answer is Always Yes and also a super dope video

I have a book review for you fucks. Books are those things that they used to make you wrap up in brown grocery bags back in elementary school. As it turns out, they have a whole shitload of them for sale at the nerd store a little bit down the way from Hot Topic. I will, however, keep this short so that my speaking of ancient technology does not interfere with you watching the Passion Boyz video on the post beneath this one.
I know how shit works around here. I see the pictures of guns and all the talk about beats and stuff. That means that unless it's about the mafia or a sports star, then books are for fags. I don't expect that my suggesting you read a book with a pink cover is going to fly, but, fuck it. Maybe I'm a wrong.
"The Answer is Always Yes" is a book about a dork named Jason who begins college at NYU and carefully plots his way to popularity amongst his schoolmates and the New York club scene. I would recommend reading it if you a) have ever been a dork (and I don't mean the "I never really felt comfortable in my own skin, and even though I blew half the football team and won Prom Queen, I swear I was a dork. I mean, look at my cds! There's an Alanis Morrisette AND a Third Eye Blind. I almost dyed my hair blue one time. I was really thinking about it but, you know, I was like, why ruin the body?") or b) were into the New York discotheque scene of the nineties or want to know what it was like.
It has some annoying footnotes throughout which follow a secondary story. I was tempted to skip over them because they kind of detracted but in the end it all paid off and I was happy.
The book was written by Monica Ferrell who is an acclaimed poet. I can't really comment on that because, although I am fruity enough to talk about books on a rap website, I am not fruity enough to read poetry. I do urge poetry lovers to check her out because I have a feeling that the only way to be acclaimed at poetry is to be good at it. She knows how to tell a good story, though, so maybe you should stop being dicks and shell out the cash for a hardcover every once and a while (just kidding. You guys aren't dicks and hardcovers are rip-offs. Still, stop being dicks and buy the fucking book).
Now, another mindless video I got from bestweekever.tv. It was posted yesterday so that makes it like a hundred years old in internet hyperdome speedtravel.

Passion Boyzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Hey everybody. It's been a long time since I've written for this garbage and blah, blah, blah. Anyways, this video is pretty sweet.
Please tell me if at 1:42 the big oafish perv with the red shirt says what I think he says. It's also worth checking out their myspace and listening to their other smooth jams. They really have a handle on how to make the ladies wet. I'd link it, but they show it enough times in the video.
I'm pretty sure that both of these fools are virgins. I also wonder what they paid their 8th grade little bro to edit this video on his Commodore 64.


Expert Whiteness to be Revitalized

Fuck Mike and his lazy broke ass. I am contemplating relaunching the Expert Whiteboy Analysis roundtable, but Mike is a fucking pussy with no money who always emails me going "I wish the blog got more hits. I don't have a job here in Rhode Island. If I wasn't so fat and depressed I'd write funny things about stuff I remember from when I was 13." Fuck that. I need some new motherfuckers to make fun of stupid shit with. Please send me your abilities and desires at ravenmack at gmail dotcom. I'm looking for a few good men (melanin insufficiency disease not necessary, but a plus) to get this party started again, before this bullshit drops below 20 hits a day. Bitches accepted too.


I Am Not Dead (as if you thought so)

What up random internet meanderers? I hope the crumbling economy and fragile geopolitical state of the world has not hindered your ability to fuck, drink beer, and smoke some shit. Life is short, so get high now, while you still have the chance.
As you may have noticed if you are stubborn enough to still poke around here, not much is going on around here. I think me and Mike hit moments of uninspiration at the same time, and then I kinda got mine back, but we didn't have any good projects going, so I've retreated to my ancient blog - Rojonekku - where I've been doing some stupid things, including this year's football previews, and a lot of shit there lately has been boring, but I am trying to get back in the habit of wasting my life inside the internets for the fleeting approval of anonymous homosexuals, so I'm still finding my smile again bros. But you should check that bullshit out and tell your mom about it too. 4 out of 5 moms love my ass.
Also, this is a month or two old, but me and my man the PSY/OPSogist finished up another CD of original materials under our wack ass Solaris Earth Pipeline name, called 45s on 33. Here is a free download link. I was supposed to make a cover, and I had this shit planned where I was gonna have this jukebox I have in my goat pen with my goat, and me wearing this pair of overalls I have that are covered in rhinestones like an old country singer, wearing my lucky red wrestling mask like always, but then my last goat got killed by the chupacabra (no shit - his heart was missing, and there was no blood), so I couldn't do that. Then I was gonna do the same thing by my old Datsun that is half-rusted and covered in Christmas lights in the field beside my house. But I never felt like it. (Yesterday, two cars were driving all slow down our road, gawking at my property, and the lead car - a convertible PT Cruiser - actually stopped in the road and a kid in the car took a digital pic of the Datsun, and the older guy driving got out the car and told the woman driving the car behind him, "You see how they do out here in the country? Christmas lights on the junk car." Luckily, at that exact time I confronted them wearing nothing but a pair of paint-splattered camo shorts, bad tattoos in full glory, not to mention LOUNGIN' across my beer belly like I was a retarded Samoan, but to the dude's credit, he chatted us up and they seemed like good folks who used to have family in this area decades ago. Our house used to be the only one for miles, so fuck y'all bitch ass neighbors. Anyways, I never did a cover for this CD, but mostly people just steal music and don't look at music, so just imagine goats, old jukeboxes, junk cars with Christmas lights, and a poorly tattooed heavyweight of a man in rhinestone overalls sitting on a flipped over 5-gallon bucket. But hit that link up.
Speaking of the football (I spoke of it above about the previews starting up on rojonekku, in case that transition was a little rough), I am about to launch an email pro football pool of doom, in its ninth year (won six of 8 times by stupid Califronians), and it's a slightly different bounce on the year-long football pools, where like the top few dudes get points each week, and you could conceivably miss half the year but win the pool, because I don't reward consistent mediocrity like most year-long pools do, where if you miss a week, you are doomed. There are also goofy side bets and other stupid shit that goes on involving the pool, and you win an imaginary trophy that I've never actually had made in 8 years, plus internet bragging rights, so if you is interested, hit up my appropriate email at cmfootballpool at yahoo.com.
Finally, I think Mike Dikk is homeless or some shit. Not really, but he is afflicted with temporary poverty. This time of year, more than any, poverty is not his friend, and I am feeling sad for my friend Michael K. Dikkowski. You see, it is Madden Time, and Madden '09 is dropping, and he has no money, not even for regular shit like phone bills, but even less so for frivolous yet far more important bullshit like Madden. I mean, we have people donating millions upon millions of dollars to a pair of self-righteous bitch asses to run for President, and Mike Dikk can't even get sixty bucks to keep his mind right for another autumnal section of the calendar. It just isn't right. Think of all the joy Mike has indirectly brought you inside the internet machine over the past couple of years. And I do not know if Mike has a paypal account or what it is, but I do know mine and how to mail a money order to Mike, so won't you help by sending a token of your appreciation to ravenmack at earthlink.net in the paypals. If a handful of people sent just a dollar or two each, after the evil robot jews take their cut, I could send Mike enough money to get the new Madden game and keep him from committing suicide for another four months. Won't you help?
Alright, that's all I can think of to catch you guys up on. Peace out bitches.