if you think i’m in bad taste NOW, just read these rants from 2009-10
Tell me half of that Parents-and-children rant isn’t already coming true!
still finishing the music but for now here’s just the lyrics.
M.D.C. MORE DEAD CELEBRITIES
your heart is black with rage and pain
your music is wack like Dave Mustaine
wrecking your brain with oxycontin
fucked up your teeth like Jhonny Rotten
i ain’t forgotten about Joey Ramone
between him and Sean MacGowan they got one molar
your brother’s a whore, like David Lee Roth
motherfuckers can’t see me like Jimmy Hoffa
like John Maclaughlin my style’s baffling, like
a world where ‘hobbit’ and ‘halflings’ are antonyms.
wanna battle him? wanna slather him with demi glace?
your mama’s fanny graced with more moles than Lemmy’s face!!
yo in any case, it’s remarked that you’re a whore’s son
chewing your vomit not unlike Jim Morrison
i swear on Mi Corazon, i’m sick of your yik-yak!
go ask Jayne County where your dick at
with a thick stack of Pitbull / Mike Vic slash fic
for a quick jack to the sick acts
i ain’t dig that, (BDP: ‘that’s wick wack!’),
motherfucker git back before i click-clack
you’re about to have a mishap
it’s behavior such as this that
makes you the object lesson of many a Chick Tract.
consider a tic-tac, your breath makes me nervous
i know you ain’t smell like Big Lurch on purpose
Odor like you had thirds-of orangutan po’boys
your deviated septum is quite David Bovoid
your shape is ovoid like the Loaf of Meat
the Buffy of gnocchi you can not un-eat
history is replete with lessons of woe,
your story is worse than Kevin DuBrow
just lettin’ you know , you blow like a homecomiING queen
catch a dick in your neck like Bruce Springsteen
((*steve albini voice* really, right in the side of the neck, it just came out of nowhere. . . . like some PUD BLOWPIPE was in effect))
in your dreams i bring-scenes of doom like a harbinger
starvin ya to death like uh Karen Carpenter. Fuck a viral
marketer, go market Ebola, ya fad pimp!
fuck white power too ; i pummel skins like Abaddon
insane like Aladdin, your pain gives me a sad-on
ladies don’t love me but i don’t have to keep my hat on.
go eat fifteen asses, eat around about ten dicks
i’ll set you on fire like take a wild guess, Sherlock.
rupture your appendix with a fossilized gopher
your self esteem’s just a fantasy like Aldo Nova
i cross over like Run-D. and Aerosmith
a cross between carelessness and total embarassment
unlike Kyle from Incantation you got a hairless lip
all the fads and the brands, i’m on the couldn’t-care-less-tip
in all fairness, bitch, the point is moot
instamatic Nirvana, just point and shoot
wear a haz-mat suit when you see-mee-whylin’
i’m side-arming that dook like . . . uhh .. .
(aw, fuck! who’s an old rocker who’s known to side-arm a deuce AND rhymes with see-me-whylin’?)
(Oh yeah! So obvious! Here we go )
. . . . like P. D. Collins!
arcing pee-pee at Rollins and lackadasically fling
a string of semisolid sharts at the hated Sting
that’s one of the things you can call a ‘malice pooper’
as you swap codpieces with whom? (Alice Cooper)
you’re in it for lucre, you:re much inferior
not fit to lick the winklepickers of Lux Interior
you:re stuck on your period, whiny and bitchy
with a scrotum tattoo reading ‘Lionel Ritchie’?!?!
i:m fly and i:m spiffy like a young Adam Ant
i ain:t exposin myself officer these are ‘phantom pants’
you don:t stand a chance against a wendigo illin
with chainsaws for hands like WENDY O. WILLIAMS
you:re found dead in a building, it:s new and collapsing
me and Blixa Barge-field (sic) here to ruin your rapping
you knew it would happen you ain’t need Dionne Warwick
but you had to keep on talking that ignorant horse-shit
go stack in a tar-pit, ollie into some high-beams
two fingers up yours!!! just like Poly Styrene
probably visene will get your eyes back to normal
i’m not Snoop Lion i’m not a member of NORML
what IS this thing, ‘normal’? can you explain to me , Diddy?
is it looking for your chin and finding only pity?
treat the sophomore slump like it was the olympics
skip ‘iffy’, passs ‘shifty’ in a jiffy, and go straight to ‘shitty’
but on this mission you got stiff competition
like Discharge, the Meatmen, oh my God Bad Religion
“Into the Uknown” was not a rad decision
you know I ain’t missing, the annoying Die Kreuzen
can you be more dissapointing than Cypress Hill?
they fell off so fast it suprises me still!
like Schooly D, these rockers make me violently ill
manson shoulda ODed, why’d they siphon them pills?
yo i got the bomb ready to turn Tom Petty into
human confetti even your mom lately thinks there’s
something wrong with me, mas loco que el narcos.
fuck an embargo, the sanctions is Fargo
wood chipper spewing blood all over the yard snow
Huff-po right column saying WHERE’D THAT POP STAR GO? not to be
harsh though; i behead enemies! boycott my
band and scab myself like a one-man Dead Kennedys
i:m bent mentally, that’s word to George Michael
but more likeable, volunteer to sort recyclables!
picking up a rubik’s cube with a pooper scoop wearing
nothing but a jewler’s loupe riding an orange tricycle
while reading a forged encyclical from “pope” Knuckles the First
saying gays can get married (except you and Fred Durst)
i’m sorry you’re cursed to never be me-at-all
i never got beat on by Paul-y Shore at an Encino mall
you called realdoll and ordered a ‘flesh gandam’
i get HEAD! BAND! HEAD! , which is word to Seth Putnam
if they miss the ref, fuck’em, this ain’t meant for squares
who don’t know the sample should be, “head! band! HAIR!!!”
and it’s less than fair that money don’t make you baddest
your fame is ephemeral, just like your flattus
do i want all your status? shit no , screw all of this
plus your momma is a model for crypto-zooologists
ain’t no shinto apologist; the Emperor is a schmendrick
i keep my noggin Nina Hagen-level eccentric
freaky rockin authentic, don’t fuck with a gimmick
i’m just conducting this muscular butt-kicking clinic
mop you up in a minute, they call you the fall guy
’cause you got locked in a scrimmage with Popeye while he’s sucking his spinach
i admit it i’m vicious, I spit it
like the junkie bass player whose christian name ‘Sid’ is.
i’m as fit as your mistress, ice cream by the bucket
your marriage, don’t annul it ’til you lap-band that gullet
you got a skullet cause your barber is Devin Townsend
it’s plenty arousin’, when the font end is moltin’
word to your three-way with Chronos and Bolton
it’s kind of revolting when you gape every orifice
now the Feds on your tail you’re like Waco..notorious!
can’t be certain what’s faker, your ass OR your tits
you should murder your surgeon like Jaco.. Pastorious
6 million boring discs, you sold 5 million downloads
4 roadies take your 3 inches on the down-low
your condom is a clown nose, balls like 2 rotten chickpeas,
your rider specifies 1.5 liters of dick-cheese
with a nondisclosure clause that’s permanent
i bathe in 1 tub of your blood just like Hermann Nitsch
zero permission slips, which is eqivalent to the
amount of my given shits ; negative macking hoes,
i couldn’t pull Anne Wilson even with a vaccum hose because i’m
not Axl Rose or even Billy Joel
but i’ll go Atilla on that ass like Cube (‘really doe!’)
motherfucker i’m swole, i’m ripped, I’m ‘cock Danzig’
plus my “cave-porn” name is Rock Manbig,
AKA Doc Samson with my green wig on
Gamma Knucks to your forehead, now your kids call you Klingon
150 Fuck, I Like Ska Now
151 Oh No I Spent All My Tattoo Money On Soap ((Again) What NOW???)
152 Sleeve Tattoo Soccer Mom Vs. Clean-Cut But Rebellious Hot Rod Dad (There Can Be No Winner)
153 John Zorn: The Grind Bernie Madhoff
154 Society Should Pay For My Boner Extension (I’m A Horse-Cock Trans-Man Trapped In The Body Of A Regular-Dick Man (Hashtag Human Rights Exclamation Point (Hashtag Surgeon Retires To Cayman Islands))
155 Actually Writing Songs Is For Suckers (How The Man Keeps Musicians Too Busy To Overthrow Shit)
156 Karen Finley Was Jesse Helms’ Art Project (Yam Shoved In The Matrix)
157 Seriously Jewish Philanthropic Foundation, I Need 30,000 Dubloons To Finish My Unwatchable Art Project About Our Proud Cultural Heritage
158 Can I See Your Guns And Roses Cover Band Some Other Time? (Heat Death Of Universe Ensues)
159 You Ghost Wrote At Least 3 A.C. Albums
160 Diatoms Can Suck My Dick
161 Won’t You Wear A Ribbon For Uneven Moustache Growth Survivors Syndrome?
162 Oh, You Mean . . . UMGSuS???
163 So You Thought You Could Perv Out On My Pee-Style?!?
164 I Have To Make An Appointment To Make An Appointment
165 The First Appointment Is Delayed Until After The Second Appointment Deadline Expires
166 So Fuckin’ Gangsta Just Lying In Bed (Because Everything I Own Was Made By Sweatshops And Unhuman Conditions)
167 Refried Beans Are Uncomfortable To Look At
168 Puberty Is Racist
169 (Never Make Someone Listen To (Or Be Aware Of )) Ouds
170 Guiro Vs. Cuica IV: The Ultimate Enscrapetion
171 Struggle Against And Repudiate Solos! All Power To The Rythm Sectionariat!
172 ‘Annie Hall Hat’ Full Of Golden Retriever Entrails
173 Passport Encrusted In Hippo Phlegm (Still Legal (Try It))
174 1mm Of Exposed White Toenail Feels LIke Giant Glacial Ice-Sheet Just Waiting To Be Hacked With Miniature Pickaxes (Obsessive Disgusting Toenail Picker In The House)
175 Diatoms Can REALLY Suck My Dick
176 Worldwide Total Obliteration Of Something
177 Why Otherwise Savvy Music Freaks Defend The Wiener Enlimpening Softrock Of The Minutemen Is Beyond Me!
178 Music Notation Is Piano-Centric And Wholly Irrational, Therefore Fuck It. Or Something Along Those LInes.
AKA Music Notation That Only Makes Sense On Piano (And Even Then Only In The Key Of ‘C’), Sure, Let’s Use That System Exclusively For A Thousand Years
179 I Know You Had A Hard Life, Morbidly Obese Grandma, But Control Your Kid On The Playground Or I Will Cut Off Your Arm-Flaps And Subsequently Sew Him Into A Coccoon Of Them From Which He Will Not Emerge
180 DICK NO I Will Not, Should I “Happen To Find” Your Escaped Pit Bull, Hold Onto Him Until You Come Back This Way (You Absurd Redneck)
181 Good Lord Do I Not Care If Bruce Jenner Is A Woman, If He’s A Gunny-Sac Full O’ Defective Shell-Toe Addidas, Or If He’s Now The Vast, Vast Steppes Of Central Asia Somehow.
182 Ditto A Mind-Flayer
183 Tonight On Head-On Collision Theatre; Air Force One Vs. All Lexii Simultaneously (The Winner Is Who Cares, I Just Want To See It In Slow Motion)
184 Ralph Nader Regulated Your Mom (With His Penis AND Federal Bureaucracy (Not Necessairly In That Order))
185 Sheldon Adelson Is The Best Joke Jackie Mason Ever Pulled (Seriously Have You Ever Seen Them In A Room At The Same Time? Mister? No One Has, That’s Who.)
186 Fucking Clogs
187 187 . . . . On An Undercover Clog
188 Brian Wilson Is Such A Tormented Genius (So Let’s All Abuse Our Kids)
189 The Rudest Canadians (Oh My God Are Geese Not Utter Asswads?)
190 HPL VS MDMA
191 This Leisure Sheet Is Barb Encrusted
192 Eff Your Head-To-Toe Hobby-Specific Garb
193 If Your Song Title Is Like ‘The Blahblahblah Song’, Kill Yourself With Wire
194 Am I The Only One Who Still Remembers How Repugnant The Term ‘Lifestyle’ Is????
195 The Last Time I Saw Something As Unfunny As Stephen Colbert It Was A Woman
196 Hashtag Something Ha Ha Comedy Gold Because Hashtag
Lenny Bruce Isnt Funny Because He Didn’t Have Hashtags
197 It Doesn’t Symbolize Hate, It Symbolizes A Heritage Of Hate (Those Are Two Different Things Because .. . .Because Fuck You, Quinoa-Knowing-What-Is Book-Reader)
198 Ass. (That Is All)
199 It’s Only ‘Real Literature’ If It’s About White Collar Families Being Super Sad And Divorcing (Anything With Diversity, Humor, Satire, Or Overt Politics Is Simply Not Art (And Don’t Get Me Started About Endings That Actually Resolve))
200 So Sick Of This Band (And I Haven’t Even Written Any Songs Yet)
we tend to think of bureaucracy as the opposite of nature, and ‘holistic’ as a word used by people named STARFLOWER instead of people like ASSISTANT DIRECTOR OF STAFFING, MUNICIPAL RESOURCE ACQUISITION DEPARTMENT, but I’m here to tell you bureaucracy is holistic as fuck. And that this is probably the WORST thing about it, the holism.
here’s an example from nature; Australians had a problem with insects eating their sugarcane crops so they brought in an insect-eating toad from abroad, called the cane toad. as long as the equation was limited to ‘toad vs. cane bugs’, it seemed like a perfect solution. but in real life, there are more organisms than just toads and bugs, and all those organisms have some sort of relationship to each other. to disturb one relationship is to cause ripples throughout the whole system, which is my pedantic way of saying that the toads proceeded to eat everything on the continent, since they had no natural predators. there’s a great scene in the CANE TOAD documentary of an aussie redneck in a jeep demonstrating the local method of pest control – swerving the jeep all over the road and trying to burst as many toads as he can, since the toads are literally occurring every 10 feet or so over the entire countryside.
same thing with biology – biology is nothing but an internal ecosystem, a bunch of systems inside a creature that all rely on each other. like the giraffe optic nerve. this is a good one to annoy the fuck out of creationists, and I know that’s low-hanging fruit, but bear with me. the optic nerve loops under the collarbone. that might not be a big deal for a pitbull or a gerbil, both notoriously short-necked bastards, but as the giraffe evolved its long neck, the optic nerve wound up being seriously twice the length of the fucking neck – from the eye down to the collarbone and then back up to the neck – a journey in some cases longer than the whole giraffe body.
so if god designed that creature why the fuck would he do that. well the answer is clearly, INTELLIGENT DESIGN WHILE HIGH, which means there is a play or short story waiting to be written about a conservative Christian giraffe veterinarian who gets born-again as a militant Rastafarian because he followed his twisted ideology to its logical conclusion. but now we are getting a bit far afield. my point is, giraffes are seeing things that happened like five minutes ago because their optic nerve is a mile long, so don’t assume they’re just stupid. wait, no, my point is, why would evolution, which has produced such marvelous and well-designed things as the chameleon tongue and the majestic great white shark produce something so inefficient as the giraffe optic nerve/
the answer is, of course, the giraffe can’t tell the rest of its body, hey, guys, do you mind shutting down for a few thousand years while I re-evolve my nerve from scratch/ no/ ok, well how about just the bones, you’re in the way bones. I love you but can I get you to turn to gelatin for a few hundred years while I decouple this optic nerve/
both bureaucracies and biological systems – including BOTH ecosystems AND the internal biology of jerks like giraffes – tend to build on top of what’s already there, often in silly or terrible ways – instead of tearing down the old no-longer-adaptive thing and installing a new, logical, efficient thing from scratch. and why, question mark. because even if the thing you want to replace – whether it’s an optic nerve, a crop-eating pest, or the dmv, even if if everyone agrees that that thing is bullshit and no one would have designed it that way on purpose – that bad, old item is holistically connected to , say, a dozen other things that are still good, so it’s impossible to tear it out and start over without also interrupting the good systems.
Like for example, you can’t change the school bureaucracy to eliminate paperwork so that teachers can concentrate on teaching again. Because a lot of that paperwork is being requested by OTHER institutions – child welfare services or whatever social welfare department is in charge of the school lunch program, and of course a lot of the paperwork goes to the federal government to ensure that the federal money continues to pay for local schools. So if you stopped the paperwork, you’d run afoul of ALL of those OTHER institutions.
So your school reforms would be limited to what the child welfare department , the school lunch department, the federal department of education etc. will accept. In other words, reforms that are either non-existent or so confusing that the other bureaucracies couldn’t figure out what it meant in time to block it.
Which is why –whether in nature or society – the usual outcome is to simply build ANOTHER layer of bureaucracy ON TOP of the different, bickering institutions and departments, to help them cooperate better. And of course that NEW layer of bureaucracy is even more idiotic. Call this the CAMEL OPTIC NERVE theory.
And keep in mind that all those other bureacracies THEMSELVES are products of decades or centuries of just these kinds of compromises, layer after layer of new rules designed to fix old broken rules while still complying with the old broken rules enough to allow the existing system to keep functioning during the reform periods.
And THAT’s why so many rules and forms etc. seem meaningless contradictory or confusing.
So if you were to, say reform the DMV system, you’d face 3 obstacles;
1) “Hey everyone with a car, would you mind not driving for a few years while we re-jigger this whatchamacallit?”
2) Let’s say you somehow DID get everyone to stop driving until you built a new, efficient, common-sense DMV rulebook. Let’s say the new system is SO friendly you don’t even need drivers’ liscences anymore. The problem now is, drivers’ licences have become enmeshed with many OTHER interdependent bureaucratic systems. In other words, they don’t just function as “this kid can drive OK” stamps, they have come to function as a universal ID card. So now you’d have to persuade banks, cops, and all the other institutions to go along with your new, common-sense DMV regulations.
3) and that’s not counting the long-standing pattern of low-level beuraucrats deliberately subverting reforms made by leaders, because, honestly, who likes unaccountable people far away with minimal real-world experience, arbitarilly loading us down with new rules and deciding how we should live our lives? Oh, wait.
There’s already been a bunch of people making fun of the sort of basic, aspirational, ‘trying to give my baby a movie-star name but it just makes her sound like a stripper’ type names. (i.e. Mila/Dakota/Auden/Taylor/Skyler/Jacelyn/Ashley/Lindsey/Kayden)’
But I want to take it back to the 80s. Because we had bitch-names back then too, and it’s still relevant, because all those women are now your boss or your worst customer.
Without further preamble; IN DESCENDING ORDER OF BITCHINESS. . . . .
- Patricia (bonus points if she says, “JUST TRICIA IS FINE” * tight smile*)
- Lori/Kristi/Vicki/Kerri/Kelli (tie)
- Melinda / Melissa
(I had to leave out names like Michelle, Julia, and Heather, because 90% of all girls of that generation are named that. . . . too many false positives.)
Unlike today’s “Don’t name your girl that!” names, these aren’t bad names because they’re too stripper-y (with the exception of that hideous 5-way tie), or too pretentious or too trendy-at-the-time. They’re offensive because they sound like super uptight, arrogant managers in bleached-denim shoulder-padded pant-suits and crusty hair, who refuse to even give pregnant single moms a job interview after they’ve sat in the waiting room for 90 minutes.
Everyone , especially not-americans, please leave the equivalent names in your country, in the comments!5 comments
Yet more songs from my imaginary angry-old-man-bloviating-about-trivial-things-in-a-hardcore-fashion band;
(you should listen to Siege while you read these)
99 Amputating Arianna (From The Knees Up)
100 And Mother Fuck A Casserole
101 Golf Announcer On Ditran
102 The Only Pop Songs I Know Are The Ones That Cover Weird Al (Getting Old Is Rad)
103 Poly Styrene Cripples Entire Agnostic Front Concert With Zui Quan ‘Drunken Tit’ Style
104 Why’d You Blow Up The Space Shuttle (You Mormon)
105 Suck A Jewish Baby’s Dick And Get Paid
106 Yehuda Kook Vs. Nyarlathotep
107 Hostile Benches (Lumbar Vengeance)
108 Cracker, Have You Ever Once SMELLED Seafood (How Can You Put That Inside You)
109 Ain’t No Tick Dropping On Me (I Run This Here Copse)
110 DJs: The New Elvis Impersonators
111 I Repeated My One Graffitti Idea A Million Times, So Where’s My Designer T-Shirt Already?
112 I’ll Start Remembering People’s Birthdays When The Sun Engulfs The Earth???
113 Nina Hagen’s UFO Lazer Vaporizes Nikki Minaj’s Phoney Parts; Leaves Only Rumpled Meat-Sac Behind (Don’t Bite The Hagen Stylez)
114 Carbonarra (#1 Spaghetti Ruiner (Why Would You Invent That, Italians))
115 $4 Wine, Instant Coffee, 1998 Cvcc, (But $160 On Books)
116 No Less Than Ten Cavities From Homemade Fucking Smoothies (Fruit Is Healthy My Ass)
117 People Who Are Not Fully Starving Eat Eels (What The Complete Hell)
118 Ethiopian Food Takes Japanese Food Behind The Woodshed And Just Goes To All Kinds Of Town On It
119 The Aging Process #2; Occasional Sharts Vs. Finally Forgetting Every Springsteen Song
120 Entire U2 Fanbase Trepanned By Elder Gods Without Warning Or Anger
121 Dude From Foreigner, Pencil In Hand, Grimly Smiles As He Finally Makes “You’re A Little Bit Wild” Rhyme With “So Hot For You Child”
122 How Do You Want Your Eggs – Over Pukey Or Abortiony Side Up?
123 So Glad I Don’t Know Anyone With A Pickup (With A Dog In The Pickup) (Dog Is Named Bundles (And Is “Rill Friendly With People”))
124 Rappers Nowadays
125 The Only Jazz I Like (Is Playing 24/7 At Shakey’s Pizza)
126 I Can’t Tell Kenny G From Ornette Coleman (Is How Much I Hate Jazz)
127 How Do You Tell A Child That DC Superheros Are Butt
128 Fuck No I Don’t Want To Play With Your Action Figures (They Are From Crap Ideas)
129 Fuck No You Can’t Play With My Action Figures Either (They Are Rad But What If You Break One (What THEN))
130 How The Fuck Am I Sposed To Tell Which One Is The Shampoo?
131 Too Many Ass-Grabbin Flavors Of Yogurt (Has Capitalism Gone Mad???)
132 No One Wants To Hear Who Took Whose Spiderman Socks
133 The Unending Streams Of Spam From My Anti-Virus Program Vs. A Plate Of Boiled Wangs
134 Never Chowder
AKA D.O.C. (Disgust Of Chowder)
135 Declaration Of Total War (On The Stench Of Popcorn Butter)
136 Castration Insurance Acturary Vs. Dick Math
137 Vodka Shower (Lights Out (Chaser Of Own Tears)(Still Better Than Sportsbar)))
138 Pint At Beach (Pissin On Surfers (Oops))
139 Knocking On Doors (Tolerated But Not Encouraged)
140 There Is No Angle At Which You Can Stick Anything In A Pocket
aka FUCKING THING WON’T GET IN THE THING.
141 I Need A Password To Activate My Christ-Sucking Printer?!??
142 Today’s Incident: Cat Locked In Closet (Force-Wearing A Dress (The Punishment Involves Tears))
143 Hey, People I’m Eavesdropping On, Have A Conversation Involving Ideas Or Thoughts
144 Fucking Pot Smells And Or Tastes Like Pot (Overcome That For Pete’s Sake)
145 Fridge Stench : Origin Unknown
146 Imagine Me Being Down With Deodorant
147 Fuck Your Whole Ethos, Guy!
148 Jackson’s Chameleon Has Too Many Totally Unrelated Superpowers (I Grudgingly Respect This Mutagenic Grab-Bag)
149 Ray-Gun That Turns All Karaoke Songs Into YOU SUFFER
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Knock knock who’s there?
ME: Who’s there?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Frog in my buttocks!
ME: Frog in my buttocks who?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Giant snake eat the frog!
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Knock knock who’s there?
ME: Who’s there?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Spiderman and Sponge Bob
ME: Spiderman and Sponge Bob who?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Spiderman and Sponge Bob kiss! Together!
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Knock knock who’s there?
ME: Who’s there?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Zombie Asshole! (pause) I don’t care!
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Knock knock who’s there?
ME: Who’s there?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Zombie fighting to shark, kick your ass!
ME: Zombie fighting to shark, kick your ass who?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Table-sized Kamen Rider poop!
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Knock knock who’s there?
ME: Who’s there?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Eating fish-shark
ME: Eating fish-shark who?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Superhero fish!!!
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Knock knock who’s there?
ME: Who’s there?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Spiderman Underpants!
ME: Spiderman Underpants who?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Beautiful asshole guy!
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Knock knock who’s there?
ME: Who’s there?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Potato salad applesauce
ME: Potato salad applesauce who?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Potato-chips . . . buttocks!!!
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Knock knock who’s there?
ME: Who’s there?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Applesauce
ME: Applesauce who?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Applesauce-making guy!
BONUS ROUND; A FOUR YEAR OLD GIRL
FOUR YEAR OLD GIRL : Knock knock who’s there?
ME: Who’s there?
FOUR YEAR OLD GIRL : My . . . not-stinky. . . princess. . .kick your ass. . . power . . . okay????
ME:My not-stinky princess kick your ass power, WHO?
FOUR YEAR OLD GIRL : buttocks, BITCH.
BONUS ROUND TWO; ATTEMPTING TO TURN THE TABLES
ME: OK, B. I got one for you. Ready?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Yes?
ME: Knock knock who’s there?
7 YEAR OLD BOY: Applesauce horse!!!
ME: (. . . )1 comment
48 Saxophone Solos Fill Me With An Un-nameable Dread
49 Fight For Your Right To Nap
50 The Mariah Carey Xmas Carol Slow-Jam Album On Trial At The Hauge For War Crimes
51 The Japanese Men’s Volleyball Team Builds A Whole Cabinet Out Of Butts
52 Is There Any British Dance Trend That Americans Won’t Fall For? (Learn From History, People!)
53 Never Enough Bookcases
56 Weird, Baldy-Ear, No-Goal-Havin’ Motherfuckers (Talkin About Cats)
57 Nobody Can Convince Me Stevie Wonder Has A Good Song
58 Or A Bearable Song
59 Why Would You Eat Mayonaisse (If You Wouldn’t Eat Cum)
60 Lament of the Return of the Itch of the Wang-Rash
61 Bon Jovi Beheaded By ISIS Like Five Times In A Row (How Would That Even Work?)
62 Hey Plasmatics Soccer-Mom, Slow Down With The Blonde Highlights (You’re Freaking Out The Squares)
63 Anthony Bourdain Gitmo Manowar Rectal Feeding Fatality
64 Sasha Fere-Jones (Reviews The New Album By A Leaking Woman’s Butt) (It’s Not An Album (He’s Not Reviewing It))
65 It’s OK, I’m Wearing A $10,000 Watch
66 Suede Boots Are An Idea No One Should Have
67 It’s My White Priviledge (To Hate Australians For No Good Reason)(Actually Several Good Reasons)
68 Fretless Bass With Chorus (Brings The Sadd)
69 Let’s Turn A Fun Bike Ride Into A Grueling Ordeal To Teach Our Little Kids Bullshit Lessons About LIfe (Because We’re Terrible Parents)
70 Q: Are We Inconcievable Tools? A: No (Because We’re Not Rahm Emmanuel)
71 If A Fat Grandpa’s Turds Had A Twitter Presence AND An App, Would You Buy More Of Them? (People Making $800,000 A Year Say ‘Yes’)
72 I Went To The AT&T Store Because You Overcharged Me And Your Response Is To Try And Sell Me MORE Stuff (You Are A Dick In Regards To That)
73 Short Songs And Long Titles (That’s The Curmudgeon With A Bludgeon Promise)
74 Can We, As A Family, Please Stop Calling The Cat ‘Vadge’?
75 It’s Not “Shut The Police”; It’s Either “Fuck The Police” or “Shut The Fuck Up” (You’re Damn Four Already, You Should Know This)
76 Jerkwater Mutants (Abound In This Town)
77 Why Must I Wait For A Million Pretend Cars (You Tri-color Fascist?)
78 People Used To Actually Think That “Soooooo Fiiiine” Was The Highest Praise (History Has Since Vindicated Me)
79 Miss Grace Jones Bites Half The Population’s Neck Off (I Ain’t Even Mad)
80 Robert Smith Beheaded By ISIS (Beheaded By Bearded Al Gore (Beheaded By Morrissey (Beheaded By Wendy O. With Multiple Chainsaws))))
81 When My Son Came Out The Woumb, The First Sound He Heard Was ACE OF SPADES (And His Own Screams)
82 Step-And-Repeat On Your Nuts, Front 242
83 All Singer-Songwriters Fight All Power Balladeers To Death With Mittens (Also, Geysers of Poisonous Stingrays)
84 Don’t Try To Fuck (When I’m Alphebetizing Comics)
85 The HELL You Didn’t Just See That Light Turning Green, Mister!
86 All Muzak Everywhere Replaced With Venom, Forever
87 Diamanda Galas Disembowels Madonna (With A Hole-Punch (Over The Course Of Two Weeks))
88 McMansion Made of Meat
89 Yippy Dog vs. Manhole Tentacle
90 90 Songs And I’m Still Pissed (The Fuck Is My Problem?)
91 Who Buys Hot-Dog-On-A-Stick Deliberately Intending to Take Home, Leave On Countertop Overnight, And Have For Breakfast? (I Married Her)
92 My Will Specifically Instructs The Funeral Director To Blow His Mom
93 In Junior High, Some Hessian Said At His Funeral, He Just Wanted Them To Play Slayer’s Black Magic Over And Over (I’m Still Down)
94 Think You’re Antisocial? Try Being A Prime Over 10 Trillion
95 Be A Pharmacist At CVS (And Then Suicide)
96 Only A Dingus (Tolerates Bossa Nova)
97 Hipster Compactor
98 Conspiracy Theories Have Gone Downhill Since Lyndon LaRouche (Step It Up, Wingnuts)
Rapper of puppets, pulling your cremaster
and calling me out , is like calling out Hastur.
The Gran-Mal Master ! Hassan I Sabbah!
Manatee on a rack like a rap Torquemada
Flunked the Invisible College
Library of Congress on a microchip knowledge
Mystic initiate! ballistic pistol spit!
My Remote-control Tesla physics are intricate
the aggravated marovingian ; tribe of butt-surfin’ indians
savior DNA descendant, necrovated revnant sniper
open the ark of the covenant,
found God’s diaper and a stench that’s repugnant
The laprascopic canteloupe
Time-share a lair with Hank Scorpio
Keep Obama’s real birth cert in a Greyhound locker in Idaho
illumiNAT-eye, controls OCCupy, controls 7-11
controls hot 97, controls mosanto, controls the kgb channel,
controls the wolf of wall st, controlls scientology
controls the UN, the Pope, and the corner swap meet!!!
(you can’t hide the truth!)
ViewMaster full of lost gnostic gospels, rotating!
i’m e-bayin’ a bible, autographed by Satan
R’yleh real-estate speculatin’
Norman Bates and Orly Taitz,
totally Tape-tradin’ deleted expletives,
Nixon administration decadence!
Descendant of Midian, cross-bred with amphibians
Safedeposit box in Fort Knox with the world’s first plastic titty in.
gave a reptillian a full brazillian
just for the map to Yamashita’s bullion
to finance the construction
of the blueprint of the world’s largest Funnyun:
it’s the size of Montreal,
me and Diddy in a sauna plottin schemes with Monte Hall
(Don’t be fooled by frauds! click this link!)
Found the philosophers’ stone in the whore of babylon’s uterus
for you to comprehend my cosmological constant is ludicrous
beyond-NSA crypto-analyst, ripped on cannibus
predict the fall of empires, Adam Weishaupt status
Injira straight from Addis Ababa, like Sabra-CAdabra
badder than bad brains’ Coptic Times
that’s why i rock these rhymes on illuminated manuscripts
third-eye monks can’t understand my shit
Lex dick with Luthor cleverness, got a secret base in Mt. Everest
JFK killer confession on microfiche in my sweater-vest!!!!!
catch me at Bohemian Grove, drinkin’ Lean in a robe
inflame Dull Care apparatus to gain Full Player status
So we can scheme and control
My fez decodes transmissions from Sirius
tinfoil baffler, esperanto yeti
microchip minions tear a wingnut to confetti
they so small minded
Put a false flag up Alex Jones’ behind and, dared him to find it
Smacked up David Ike and made him run those Nikes.
I’m the one they ARE after, everywhere and nowhere like DARK matter
while you trying to capture my decoy cadaver
I’m singing doo-wop with bat-boy, sasquatch, and a dope southern rapper
private eyes try, but it’s no use. too many bogus clues
for those that approach the truth,
I’ll leave you dead geometrically
cut into simple shapes like Ed Emberley.
LSD, let ME see the ineffable clearly
find the kid alternate-timeline chililn’ with President Leary
Keep a loaded Necronomicon in the Book Depository
Bildeberger murder story, coup d’etat
got Cheney’s original heart
in an Egyptian jar, in the Conservatory
When the jewel is decoded, Rosicrucians start shootin’
pollutin’ water supply with PCP, dye #5, and GM gluten
it ain’t my fault, Iwas at the U.N.
in the secret top story
playin’ mini-golf with Crowley,
JR Ewing, Ross Perot, and Ras-putin.
Omega reflex. Mr. T clone army — in matching t-backs.
grown in a vat in Nevada
madder than a matador giving lap dances to a labrador
Ancient tomes bound in finest velour
Line after line of mystic manure
Panknotic manuscripts on the kid’s kindle
OBL hiding in a convent with lipstick and a wimple
Price code for your soul!
Masonic mind control from Opus Dei
In the Vatican basement blastin’ “Walk This Way.”
watching Kissinger pop-lock with Lyndon LaRouche
win or you lose:
global dom break-off while the faithful above steady sitting in pews
sheep men idiots, terrestrial pinks.
bred for service, with bread and circus to keep them oblivious
flat screen soma over dosin’ on frivolous gibberish
slave to the subliminal spectacle
with raptor DNA implanted in your vegetables.
cadence impeccable, Cosmic Trigger affiliate.
downloadin’ specs from the monolith – future tech,
Government cams in your Doritos data-mine your tonsoliths
The eschaton custodian, no atom-bomb.
start WWIII with poop-scooper fulla plutonium
back masking, multitasking,school shooters under-a-spell
had a rummage sale and sold H.Y.D.R.A. a used juicer!!!!!
People love jobs. I mean we hate jobs, but we love the fact that we can eat food not made by Alpo, in a house.
Every pundit, from Communists to Capitalists, from Republicans to Democrats to Friedmanites to Kenyesians agrees that increasing the amount of work everyone does is super, which makes sense considering that their jobs are “giving speeches and writing columns read by millions”, and they probably enjoy those jobs. Probably a lot of people working at Hot Dog on A Stick would enjoy those kinds of jobs, too, but somehow the pundits and politicians and economists aren’t that interested in creating more of THEIR KIND OF jobs. So.
Given that we’re running out of clean air, water, and oil, the idea that more jobs is the answer to everything is weird.
Especially weird, given that we in America have so much EXTRA STUFF that even poor people have to spend money they don’t have on giant foul-smelling ‘storage units’ to keep the extra stuff in, while at the same time having to buy MORE STUFF otherwise the economy will crash.
Our whole shit is based on borrowing money we don’t have to buy shit we don’t need so as to keep our fellow humans toiling away in factories making plastic crap, just so they can feed children they don’t have time to raise properly.
Because – despite being the richest country on Earth – we can’t think of another way to get slightly more food to hungry children besides having Ma and Pa bust ass. Think about it: if Ma and Pa DON’T have jobs, they’re ‘unworthy of society’ so fuck them AND their kids. But get Ma a job working at the printing plant, making tons of junk mail that no one reads? And give Pa a job driving the ‘street cleaning’ truck that doesn’t do any cleaning, because its main function is to allow the cops to ticket the fuck out of all the cars that didn’t move by midnight? Well then, these are ‘upstanding citizens’ and we should give them our support! Despite the fact that their jobs just make everyone else’s life worse.
In other words, we confuse JOBS ARE GOOD (as in, “I need the salary to live”) with JOBS ARE GOOD (as in, “this job helps anyone, ever.”). . And yet, we BEG for useless jobs because we need money. And why do we need so much money? Because shit is expensive. And why is shit so expensive? Wait for it – because EVERY COMPANY EMPLOYS WAY TOO MANY PEOPLE, AND THE COSTS ARE PASSED ON TO YOU, THE CONSUMER. It’s not just that the asshole at Target gets paid to design horrible Hanna Barbera onsies for babies,, it’s that that asshole needs a janitor, a lunch cook, a tax accountant, and a HR supervisor, and several copyright/contract lawyers, and each of those people wind up employing many other people, which is weird as fuck when you think all that economic activity depends on YOU, PAYING EXTRA FOR A HIDEOUS SCOOBY-DOO BABY-WRAPPER. DO IT FOR AMERICA! DO IT FOR TARGET! BUY A HIDEOUS SCOOBY-DOO BABY-WRAPPER, YOU COMMIE RATFINK!
With that in mind, here are some of the many jobs we have in our society.
200 jobs at a factory that only makes nutritionless, glow-in-the-dark frosting, the purpose of which is to make otherwise inedible, unhealthy food JUST sweet enough that working people will buy it. And MORE jobs: hire a very expensive team of ‘consumer consultants’ to calculate JUST how little frosting they can get away with spooging on the snacks before they stop selling. The salaries of the consultants are more than the company saves by reducing frosting. But that’s ok because then the consultants go on to create MORE jobs for plastic surgeons, drug dealers, etc.
Meanwhile, 100 delivery drivers are employed shipping the frosted cupcakes to the breakrooms of the 3.000 electricians who make sure the server farm stays online forever, just in case google needs to know what you tweeted about bieber 4 years ago. So much private-sector efficiency right there. IN YOUR FACE, BIG GOVERNMENT.
Wait, I’m still getting warmed up. Here’s a great buncha people:
40 people at the power plant, make electrical power for
20 janitors with electric vaccums, cleaning up after
10 cafeteria workers, serving
5 hungry accountants, processing claims from
4 HR managers, hiring
2 nubile Personal Assistants, helping
1 douchebag ‘consultant’ to think up ‘taglines’ for miserable Hollywood movies
Which no one wants to watch.
But hey, jobs!!!!
Plus, even MORE jobs for the ladies who operate the forklifts taking the unsold DVDs to the boat where they will be turned into a landfill in Africa? Yes!
How about the ‘security’ industry? Lotta useful jobs there:
6 security guards for the daycare center
for the kids of workers at the CCTV-watching firm,
who are monitoring the ‘data analysts’ at Google,
who are data-mining the porno-viewing habits
of the cops down at Precinct 24.
Not secure enough? Here’s more:
So many jobs at a Factory which makes punch-clocks, which are sold to other factories, to keep their employees from stealing time, which those other factories make cameras, which monitor the obedience of workers at still other factories, who make RFIDs, which are used to prevent theft of books, about how capitalism is super efficient.
100 leaf-blowing Mexicans hired by 1,000 sales representitives, working at 10 novelty souviner t-shirt companies, producing gifts that the recipients hate. Otherwise, who would write wacky slogans on sweatshirts for free? Someone without a job? Poets? Maybe there’s an ancient greek Muse specifically devoted to inspiring new borderline-racist shirt slogans designed to increase awareness of the wearer’s ‘attitude.’
Jobs making stress pills , to help other people stay at their jobs longer without being too miserable about it. Jobs generated by jobs is a whole theme here!
A plastic surgeon for the banker for the Federal Regulation Inspector of the beauty-school, for $500 haircuts, for popstars, for tweens who would be better off listening to a dryer go ‘round. That’s gotta be like 2,000 jobs right there, and what would happen if those went away? Tweens would start listening to Venom again, that’s what.
200 jobs at a factory making Sexual Harassment Panda suits, special-ordered by a Corporate Seminar Planning Company (30 more jobs), which is hired by HR Department to help stamp out potentially litigious office romances at the distribution center (75 jobs) for little plastic baggies (baggie factory: 200 jobs) for speed (mafia: 100 jobs) for hookers (60 jobs) for ‘rough necks’ at a fracking camp-town (2,000 jobs), so we can all get gas to go to our various, super necessary, jobs. Well we could of gotten the gas ANYWAY, but it’s better karma to buy the gas from rough-necks that are not super sex-frustrated, and THAT means Sexual Harrassment Panda needs a damn suit, somehow.
Another great use for gas: powering ocean boats to haul toilet paper from UK to Suriname so that Suriname sweatshop workers can put perfume on toilet paper FOR PENNIES LESS THAN IN THE UK, and then ship it back. The perfume is un-wanted by customers, resource-depleting, the boss is a dick, and they charge the customer more for it. But, hey, at least everyone gets to bust their ass for 8 hours a day until they’re old. Win-win!
Here’s some CYBER jobs for you ‘90s hackers: take 100 of the most smart computer people, and give them a job hiring 1,000 average schmucks, to ‘Focus-group’ a ‘more lifelike,’ ‘emotion detecting’ robo-call program, which can automatically choose which fake tone-of-voice wastes your time, depending on how mad you sound at being interrupted at dinner. OK, that means the telemarketers get fired, but then re-hired by the focus group! Progress.
Go work at the plastic factory making mile-wide tarpulins to cover the small oceans of liquefied pig poop at factory farms. OK? One job. But your boss cuts your hours and benefits, and now you have to finish work, and moonlight across the street at the OTHER plastic factory making polyfiber regatta sails for the CEO of the holding company that owns the bank that owns the factory farm. Boom! That’s TWO jobs! You’re welcome!
Insurance companies employ , oh, say, 60,000 fully-loaded secretaries to process and deny and rebut the medical claims coming from another 60,000 fully-loaded secretaries working at hospitals, who then rebut the rebuttals, de-loop the loop-holes, and re-submit the claims. To that, add ANOTHER 10,000 people to run the accountant schools that the secretaries had to go to, 100 MORE people to check if the schools are properly up to the accreditation standards for such a productive enterprise, and finally 10 ungodly-expensive Taylorist ‘efficiency experts’ to just see maybe if the secretaries can’t circulate their utterly useless paper at twice the speed.
Hire 100 people
to train people
to train safeway clerks
to train customers how to use the self-checkout aisle that will eventually take away their jobs.
But who’s going to train the first people what uniform to wear, or what logo should be on the uniform and matching clipboards, and who’s going to tell them to have facial hair or not?
Better hire some more people!
3000 people making toxic paint for
2000 people to make billboards with, and
500 people to glue the billboards to the sides of buildings
To convince us that one particular toothpaste is better for the environment.
To simply glue signs saying “this space for rent”
Here’s a good one: An ankle monitor factory, needs an ‘ergonomics expert’ to design the most form-fitting bracelet, and the consultant needs a proprietary 3d modeling software, for which the software designer needs a patent attourney. The patent attourney needs an in-company computer network to share the legal files with the other experts, so they have to hire an IT manager, who needs a Systems Engineer, who has to hire 10 temps to convert all previous company files into a single format compatible with the network. The resulting fees threaten to put the whole company into bankruptcy, so the CEO simply bills the prisoners for the cost of wearing the ankle bracelets. Unfortunately, the Systems Engineer was so busy training those goofy temps that she didn’t have time to hire a Security Engineer, and now the fucking Chinese are bootlegging the ankle monitor, which means MORE JOBS FOR THEM, and an ankle bracelet for the fucking systems engineer, who –unbeknownst to the Chinese – was trying to sell the blueprints to the Ukranian mob.
Last one, people, bear with me:
Get 1,000 of the smartest graduates, who would otherwise be stuck finding cures for diseases or building solar-power jetpacks, and set them to work making ‘analytical risk models’ for hedge funds, which the models don’t work, at all, which is fine, because the ‘models’ are just there to give a plausible, legal explanation of how the CEO constantly outperforms the market without insider trading. So that’s a great use of talent AND 1,000 jobs.
currently, we have ‘payroll futures’, where Wall-Street types can make million-dollar bets that wages will go up or down next year. ( Of course, if your wages go down, YOU don’t see a penny of that million, it all goes to the traders).
shortly, we’ll have ‘jobless futures’, which will be pretty much the same deal: making million-dollar bets on whether unemployment will go up or down.
After they run out of buyers for ‘jobless futures’, the big-brains on Wall Street will then invent the most high-selling, profitable type of derivative ever: ‘homeless futures’. These will have their own stock exchange, like NASDAQ.
The ‘homeless futures’ are such a hit, bets on many different cities’ future homeless populations are bundled and securitized to make SBS (suffering-backed securities). Hedge funds offer even more high-end financial instruments for those wishing to hedge their bets: many different bets ON DIFFERENT TIME FRAMES, bundled together. thus, if your bet that homelessness will increase next week doesn’t pay off, another bet that homelessness will increase in the next 4 months will pay off, offsetting your loss. rather than make all the bets yourself, you can buy 100s of different bets of different time frames all bundled together as a CSO (collatteralized suffering obligation)
oligarchs make crazy huge bets, and then try to ‘move the market’ to meet their predictions.
For instance, instituional investors such as insurance and retirement funds, ON PURPOSE lose all their clients’ money, so as to hopefully put’em on the street. (but first, the person running the insurance/retirement fund used the fund money as collateral to place a HUGE bet that homelessness will rise).
wall st bonuses are now pegged to food clinic line wait times.
one hedgie will take over large, profitable company just to lay people off because as homeless they are worth more to him.
another trader, betting AGAINST the first, hires 1,000 homeless as ‘financial consultants’ to get them off the streets. Naturally the ‘report’ that the ‘consultants’ write concludes that ‘homelessness will decrease in the next quarter, man.’
a new industry emerges, to assure investors that their bets on homeless numbers are backed up by unbiased data. Homeless ‘ratings agencies’! For any given SBS or CSO, the agencies will issue ‘ratings’ of Triple-H, Double-H, and Sub-H, depending on how accurate the homeless count is. Of course, the ratings agencies depend on the SBS-issuing wall st. banks for their money, so the ratings are a joke.
limos prowl the alleys looking for neighborhoods with homeless ratios above or below the predicted figures: classic arbitrage.
As homeless-backed securities become THE most lucrative part of wall street, prime time analyst Jim Kramer says the homeless are now “By some reckonings, worth more than their weight in gold.”
In his State of the Union speech, the President pledges to ‘create more homeless’ to drive up GNP. He furthermore announces that GNP will be replaced with GSP (gross suffering product), a sort of ‘anti-quality-of-life-index’, which shows each country’s ‘progress’ in generating ever-higher revenue from homeless futures.
One day, suddenly, word leaks out that buffet sold all his shares in everything! he must be making the biggest bet ever. Rumors circulate that some crazy shiekh is betting the other way, neither one wants to blink first.
suddenly the secret is revealed: THE ULTIMATE BET. f Specifically, a bet about, if one specfic bum , dwelling in a dumpster between two bushes, is going to urinate on this or that bush on a given night, one week hence. Only a limited number of bonds are sold, and the competition keeps the prices of the bonds going up up up. As the prices go up, more and more investors sell all their stocks, securities, etc, to buy a share of the ‘pee in the bush’ bond.
In an attempt to predict which bush he’ll pee into, “emotion detecting” sensor drones remotely fly around and monitor his blood pressure, facial expressions, stress levels, alcohol intake, etc. They are shot down by rival drones, operated by OTHER traders who have paid BIG MONEY for inside information of where he usually pees, and don’t want anyone else to learn it.
as the shares go up in value, more people try to buy them before the deadline, until eventually 99% of all Wall Street money is invested in this one bet.
as the deadline approaches, the bum hasn’t pissed at all. Is he sick? Jaundiced? Dehydrated? investors begin to worry the bum might not pee at all. markets jittery. A scandal erupts when the Fed chairman is caught in bushes trying to pee and blame it on the bum, so as to save the bet.
Eventually, right at the last second, the bum flips all the warring drones the finger(s), instead of peeing, he just shits his pants, and then drops dead.
All the wagered money evaporates; world financial system brought to knees.
plot twist: bum used to be ?????
please leave suggestions in comments.