Shout OUT!

HAPPY BDAY to Bella Baggins (7/6) and the BIGS (7/13)

Friday, February 26, 2010

Lament for my Boner

Dear friends,

Good Morning? How have you been? Me, I am shattered. Boner is dead. The found his slow-to-decay corpse in some random park in Vancouver. I bet he tried to get into the olympics, and could not get tickets on account of he hasn't done anything of note in 30 years. Poor dead boner. I bet the cold killed boner, because the natural enemy of boners is cold. Keeping that in mind, it was dumb of boner to go to cold Vancouver.


what the hell ever happend to Dudley from Diff'rent Strokes?

thanks for the kind words...what

I have noticed that people like leaving positive messages all over Facebook and what not. Sometimes they are passages from the Good book, or just the random, "Have a great day FB" and my first instinct was...WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG? I got worried. I immediately thought of the most common scenario that included breakups, death, venerial diseases etc. I see one of those happy messages of the day on Facebook and i wonder what that person is trying to cover up. What calamidity or pitfall are they trying to forget or hide?

Sick i know! Sending out positive vibes should mean you would get some back. Instead I am conditioned for the worst...and just exactly when the fuck did that happen? How did a long lovely blog about a turning point in someone's life for the good lead to questions about their mental sanity. Doubts of the authentic nature of their words and intentions. I grabbed my phone and typed out the "WTF" text, only to put it down and ask..."Why?" When did this become my default response to a positive thought, message, voice?

I conducted my own experiment and found that it works. Dropping the rusted metal surrounding myself, and just sending a random "good morning" message to the fam, i found you helps you show up a little happier. The Sun shines a little brighter. The cold cutting wind makes u feel not only pain, but actually feel. "Good morning family" leads to good mornings back from people who may have also forgot to connect and say hello.

Try it...go and say "how's your day going" to people and do something crazy and listen. Follow that up without bitching about something. Say something positive and see where it leads. Even the most frustrating thing in your world cannot be so bad that you cant remember that it will be alright. No need to compare your sorrows in HOPES that someone has it worse. Try sharing your joys in hopes that it can lead people to do the same...

Fucking wild gay ass idea huh? I know...but when did it become that way?

Bjork - Hunter

...defining my reality...

a co-worker just told me his secret for not going postal and stalking office to office pumping rounds from a semi-automatic hand gun into any soul unlucky enough to be in the line of sight of his deadly messengers...ok...maybe that's not what he was intending, but i am playing it up....

So, he tells me he came to the realization that he will no longer allow the people, who are driving him nuts, to define his reality. Yep, simple as that. He went on to say that i could pick a person out of a phonebook and that that person had as much of a say in his life as the current blowhard who is running rampant with buzzwords like a frustrated hungry rapper! I mean...he even acknowledged how existential this was and how it brought him peace.

Not sure how this works for you, or for me actually, but I am intrigued. Can I just decide that someone won't matter anymore? They won't define my reality, they won't tell me what's what? Isn't that what a work is? Isn't that part of the deal I agreed on when I cash the check? Someone tells me what to do, I hope they know what they are doing, and every two weeks I cash a check. Don't get me wrong, i do my fair share of Office street fighting, but can I just mentally check that person off the list of people who I wont smash in the face. Proverbially speaking of course!

It is really hard being a worker ant now that i know i dont have to follow the invisible line and i can look around.



Monday, February 22, 2010

Upon my having reached the age of 33

Dear friends,

I write this to you in order to tell you how good I feel. I have been awash in an overwhelming sense of calm, and have been granted much time to think about things. First off, I will waste little time in creating or fostering negative energy. All it does is make you feel bad afterwards. It makes you wonder how good a person you are if you speak or act negatively. I will try to limit or do away with this all together. If you see me act negatively, call me on it. It’s the only way I’ll learn.

I will also try to be a better friend to others. I do a great job of being a friend to my students, and co-workers. So much so that it’s mentally draining. I have not always made myself available to my friends, and I apologize for that. My family comes first, then job, then friends. I remember the days of putting my friends before anything. It forged some great friendships, and yielded good times. Now that I am older, I find myself pushing away things that are non-essential, because my time and energy are waning. I have committed to getting my energy up, and making time regularly for the important things in my life, like love, laughter, and making a difference in this world.

I have committed to being the best person that ever lived. I have also committed to being the most humble person that ever lived. It seems like such a strange dichotomy, but it’s the delicate balance I am trying to achieve. I have discussed with my family the possibility of me going back to school, and it looks more and more like an option. I have also committed to doing more positive things. I am at the age now where my daughter and I can talk about things more clearly, and I want to instill in her the sense of duty to help others when you can. I also want to accomplish the difficult task of teaching her not to overextend herself. I also want to teach her French.

In summary, I feel good, I want to be positive, I want t be a better friend, family man, the best person ever, the most humble person ever, and a teacher of French. All in all, I do not think it’s too much to ask.

Jokey Jokemaker316

Friday, February 19, 2010

Top Five Dumbest Things...

Without further ado, the Top Five Dumbest Things you as a Chicagoan can do:

1) Park your car on the street. Parking on the street in the city of Chicago means you pretty much don't like yourself or your car. Other cars will bump you when trying to park, side swipe you will flying down the street and best of all--you are at the mercy of the City. See the street is public property and regulated by the city government. So they will try ANY WAY POSSIBLE to make money off of you for using said property. Whether it be by parking meter, requiring you to put a little sticker in your window, requiring you to have license plates on both the front and rear of your car or even having your tires properly inflated, the city will charge you for parking. And don't forget the city chickens shitting on your nice clean ride.

2) Vote for a Republican candidate for a local government position. It's a wasted vote. I know because I've done it before. Twice. The sheer number of Blacks in the city will instantly give any democrat running 35% of the vote since Black folks mind numbingly vote democratic. That leaves only 16% left to win--and there are enough liberal ass white folks in this town to make that happen. You might as well sit at home if you're going to vote Republican.

3) Buy tickets to watch the team that plays baseball on the north side. The stadium sucks, the team sucks and the "fans" in the stadium are racist as hell. People who attend these games accept losing. No one is even paying attention to the game. Paying $60+ to sit behind a pillar and piss in a trough like an animal? DUMB.

4) Talk back to the police. Chicago cops are people that fall in to one of the following categories: bullied when they were kids; genuine assholes; genuine public servants; hustlas. In each of these cases you're asking for a ass beating if you decide to talk back. Having the badge makes the first two categories feel important and powerful. The genuine public servants take their job seriously and you talking back to them just offends them--seeing as they risk their lives daily for your safety. And the hustlas--they get to legally carry a gun openly. Talking smack to them is ASKING to get pistol whipped.

5) Act scared when in unfamiliar territory. If you're white on the south side act like you belong there. Thugs are like dogs (in many ways)--they can smell fear. You don't wanna get mugged/jacked/stabbed? Act like you belong. If you're Black/Latin on the north side and you don't want folks following you around in the store or potentially calling the cops on you for hanging out in the park? Act like you belong. Blend in while sticking out. Stroll with confidence. After all its not like you're a suburbanite.

Kiss my Converse!

Thursday, February 18, 2010

"Nigga" Woods

This nigga...

No one gives a fuck what you got to say at this point Tiger. Stay at home with wifey and the kids. Go play golf to get your money on, but we don't need to hear about the bitches.

Pimpalicious has discussed Tiger Woods here before but there is a greater lesson to learn here. No, it ain't that "pimpin ain't easy" (cause it is if your moufpiece is workin right) and it ain't that "he shouldn't have been lovin them hoes and trickin on them." The point is bitches and gentlemen to Know Your Capacity. See this nigga Tiger is a billionaire. He had no business fuckin with waitresses, hostesses, and various other average bitches. Pornstars and Playboy models okay--the bitch that works the door at the club? No. Not when you have a Swedish model at the crib.

The same should go for each and every one of you. If you absolutely MUST get you some (which is a waste if you ask Pimpalicious) at least make sure your playin on the same court shootin at the same baskets. You think Oprah is fuckin wit a nigga like Pimpalicious? (Well yeah she would but Pimpalicious would NOT fuck Oprah--Pimpalicious would have Oprah out there doin what she do best--makin money). Oprah fuckin wit lawyer type niggas. Smarty-art mufuckas. Brad Pitt didn't step out on Jennifer Aniston with some bitch that work the drive-thru at McDonald's-- he went to Angelina Jolie. Know Your Capacity. If you got the Capacity to fux wit a star why lie in the grass?

Deliciously pimpin and pimpin deliciously,


Wednesday, February 17, 2010

My Brain Diarrhea!!

Happy Post-Valentine's Day! I hope the release of your sexual fluids was worth the $400 price tag; and 364 days of emasculating compromise, suppressed rage and passive-aggressive mumbling. I'm sure it was. Just remember to celebrate the one-month after Valentine's holiday: Valenbortion Day.

Well, the bad news for Toyota just won't stop. First, brake problems caused huge recalls. And this Sunday their 2010 Corollas starting raping babies. Toyota's CEO, Akio Toyoda, immediately began damage control. "Me so solly," said Toyoda. "Cahl no more lape baby." Then he climbed a tree and said "Oh sexy girlfriend!" The line between satire and racism is so... who gives a shit.

Author/political equivalent of Jersey Shore, Sarah Palin, was recently criticized for writing notes on her hand before a speech to tea party activists. In Palin's defense, she's a stupid bitch and anyone stupid enough to think she contains an ounce of merit will be impressed by her ability to read. Not a very complimentary defense, but it's the only one America needs.

Google has launched Google Buzz to take on Facebook and Twitter. What does "Buzz" offer that those sites don't? A fresh opportunity for you to repackage your meaningless opinions, tastes and personal data into something you think will make you seem unique and interesting. "You like that show with low ratings and you're an agnostic? Wow, there won't ever be another you."

Leno's prime-time show ended last week. "That's so disappointing," says this sentence. And no one else. No one else...

But never fear. He'll be returning to the Tonight Show right after the Olympics wrap up, so he can once again be that thing your grandpa falls asleep to. "He's almost as funny as that Amos Andy from the old talkie-box." "That's good, grandpa. Take your pill. Mmm, applesauce is yummy."

The Saints won the Super Bowl. After all New Orleans has suffered they needed this. "Why would a devastated city need an NFL championship?" you ask. Well... uhh... Why do you goddamn cynics always question things! All I know is a guy with a ball crossed a line and now everyone in New Orleans has a house and food. So put a sock in it and let us live the lie, Karen Killjoy!


Friday, February 12, 2010


Sho-nuff is back for the 2010 and is pissin folks off. Why? Because the people want me to put fingers to keys but I've been taking a pass. It's 2010--can't write about the same stuff as 2009. That means no more politics. No more religion. I leave love and relationships to Iz3y, the Handsome Right Hander and Pimpalicious. So what could I POSSIBLY have left to write about? I'm so glad I asked...


Truth is the cause of many a conflict, whether it be between nations, races, genders or governments and individuals. There is no such thing as truth. There are two categories of ideas that we as a society accept as truth: facts and proof. Only problem is that both are subjectively influenced. Facts depend on perception. Proof depends on the experiment which is often designed and carried out by people, and the results perceived by individuals. Ultimately what we call "truth" boils down to perception, but perception can deceive. What "is" may not be that simple; one may not perceive the entire picture. We want to say you can't judge a book by its cover, but our brains won't let us convince ourselves that if it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, that it can't possibly be a swan--even after reading the "Ugly Duckling."

Which brings me to the most controversial form of truth--what we want to believe. This is where most conflict starts. In this form, truth is what people want to believe is true and any conflict with that is trouble. It is because of this most people can't handle honesty. For example your significant other buys a new outfit and asks your honest opinion. You think it's quite possibly the worst outfit ever--and give your honest opinion. Suddenly now you're getting all kinds of attitude. What was wanted wasn't honesty, it was affirmation of THEIR reality, their truth. People swear they want candor because as a society we value sincerity as truth. But once we find out how people really feel and what they really think, if it's in conflict with our own reality, it must be a lie.

People walk around in denial about all aspects of their lives because they simply can't handle reality. They question everyone else's integrity because their own perception--or truth--blinds them. You want truth? You people CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH. If it even existed.

Remember, You're awesome

My dad said never wait for people to tell you, you are will be waiting a long time. Just tell yourself and you will be good to go! So long as you know that you are, then you are. Go ahead Stuart Smileys...look in the mirror and tell yourselves your awesome. A little ego boost never hurt no one!

a reading from the book of DAD


Thursday, February 11, 2010

Valentines Day Ruined?????

I cannot believe this happened again.
Jokeyjokemaker's car has been put out of commission. My baby has been sidelined. I don't think you the average reader can truly understand. I love this car almost as much as I love my women. I treat that car with a gentle hand and a soft chamois. It is more than a car to me, and now it has been spoiled. No matter how much reconstruction and fine arabian oil goes into the car, I will forever have knowledge of this alternator failure. My car hood paint paint also chipped a liitle. I feel like crying right now.

Who would allow such a thing? Not only am I upset by the alternator failure, which is quite possibly my favorite part of the vehicle, but there was no note of apology from the manufacturer, or a phone number so they could send me a new one which is well within my "LIFETIME GUARANTEE." No responsibility was taken, and this makes my heart ache. Whether you damage someone's 4 door 1993 Nissan Sentra XE or plan to bring a woman to new heights of sexual pleasure, you have to take responsibility to follow through, no matter what.

Perhaps you don't understand the great care that I provide for this automobile. It is only taken out when I wish to look lovingly on its smooth, perfect lines, or if I have six hours and a shady day to wax it. Most of the time, I keep this beautiful vehicle in a safe storage facility where I leave it swathed like a newborn baby in the finest linen car cover that one can have a mexican relative bring over from the country of Mexico. It is in this manner this car is meant to be treated.

I only brought it out of its soft multi-colored garage because I wanted to take my special lady away for a romantic trip to the country for some anal. Now that the alternator has exploded because of some unknown automotive parts company, that plan has been changed. I'm saddened by this.

This car means so very much to me, since it transports me to and from chooch economically and quickly. It took me a long time to create the most perfect paint job for this vehicle after crashing it several times, which is black. Do you know how difficult it is to paint an automobile to match the color of your special lady's black hair? It is very difficult indeed, almost impossible. It would be too difficult to go through all that again. If my hand is forced, I will paint it a deep green, or possibly an eggshell white. Those colors are easy to keep clean, and would allow me to focus on punishing the chooch, not on getting a car wash or having my alternator explode.

The alternator failure could have been worse. I suppose I should be thankful that the soft faux fur seat covers have not been damaged nor has my collection of driving R&B mix cd's been stolen. Once fixed, I should take it for a ride to make sure the handling is still in fine condition so I can recieve roadhead and still stay in my designated lane. The chooch punisher is nothing if not aware of the rules of the road.

The alternator will be replaced, and the anal will happen, but I believe a little part of me will be be much more more worried about some hidden engine part this valentines Day than making my one special lady howl like a wolf.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

I am so very undeserving

Hello dear readers and wellwishers,

once again I have had issues with my car, and have been given pause to reflect. I was driving to work yesterday like nothing was wrong. Suddenly, my car died on me mid-block. I was not able to diagnose the problem, and was forced to call my woman LIZ to help me. She happened to have my daughter home because she has strep throat. She asked my brother if he could watch her while she went and got a van to help me puch my car al the way home. She saw a tow truck on the corner of the block. She made a quick deal to have the guy come get my car. As I waited, in the blowing wind, no less than 4 people pulled over to help me. I knew from previous expereince that it was either the alternator, or battery. I bought a new battery 2 months ago, so i guess the alternator. I only had an adjustable wrench on me, and when I tried that, nothing happend.

SOme friendly police pulled over to help. They asked me for ID, and I had none. My wife needed it to pick up a microwave we bought at Sears. Luckily, I am awesome. I recited my driver's liscense number to the cop who was about my age, and he went in the system to look me up. He then pulled out pusher bars from his trunk, and puched my car out of traffic. I would up in a parking lot, and Liz and her 2 sisters all showed up in a van. The mini-mall where I was had a Dunkin Doughnuts, so I went to get coffee. Once the towtruck arrived, i saw my litle car get thrown about and hoisted in the air. I got int he van and headed home.

It then hit me. This quite possibly was the end of the car. My little car died for what I thought was the last time. A overwhelming feeling of sadness came over me. Not because the car died on me and I was stranded, but because it was the end of a relationship that lasted since 1993. I have done evberything in that car, gone to high school, college, grad school, road trips, exploded the engine, been in horrible crashes and wrecks, and driven friends and family around. My relationship with my car has been one of the most enduring and tested relationships I have known.

In my old age I have discovered that as we grow up, things that you never thought would change often do so without you knowing it. Take friendships for example. I have been guilty of hanging out with a group of friends, and slowly withdrawing from the group to the dismay of the group. I was the first among my friends to have children. I was the first to own a house. I was the first to take steps into serious adulthood. I am so very blessed in my life. I do not deserve it, and I do not let a day go by without acknowledging it. I will say that I have a great family, great woman, and a great group of friends that understood that my priorities are not always in line with catching a few beers, going to family parties, or hanging out at Wal-mart. One relationship that I could depend on to be there for me was the one I had with my car. The relationship was threatened and I was in trouble.

Later on, My brother took less than 5 minutes to look at it, plugged in a few gauges and devices to test my car, and quickly diagnosed a fixable problem. I grinned like an IDIOT. My car it seems, may have new life again. With that relationship secured, I can begin to strenghten and develop the others. My car is old and tired, but it has miles that you cannot measure on an odometer. Try finding that a 2010 Toyota.

Screw you Eskimos!


My name is jokey jokemaker, and I do not believe in eskimos. "Madness," you say? "NO." I say. I mean, have you ever known anyone to have actually seen an eskimo walking around downtown Chicago? Have you ever seen an Eskimo skeleton in the wild? Have you even ever heard of an Eskimo sighting on the Blue Line? I did not think so. Therefore, I use the awesome power of my intellect to postulate that Eskimos do not exist. You may furrow your brown in a vain attempt to understand how you always thought eskimoes existed, but I am here to tell you 2 things. First, your intellect is meager compared to mine. Finally, that eskimos do not exist. You probably just watched too many Clutch Cartgo cartoons growing up.

Crushing your childish misconceptions

Tuesday, February 9, 2010


"Professional Cock-block wanted to block all kinds of possible sexual or inappropriate action that may or may not end up on the internet and cost me tons of money!"

I am entirely sure that listings like this are going up all over the place by well to-do men and woman across this country. If you don't think LeBron has a posting, well then you're not paying attention to recent events. I won't delve into Tiger's life, but I will say, him, and to a large degree, ELIN, are regretting they didnt think about this position in their organization earlier.

Let me explain, a Professional Cock-block would perform the services of actively deterring any possible attempt to get u in a compromising situation by a slut, hooker, porn star, recently singled wanna be party hostess with a tight ass. They would be the ones to judge such fun games like "hey, T*GER. Can you judge to see which one of us sux the best cock?" They would also intercept any thongs, bras, pictures, or even the overly horny fan that would wonder by ur table locked and loaded for a little private booth gymnastics. Yes, the Professional cock-block would leap into action, bend that bitch over and offer up his mercenary cock for any shenanigans. This would leave u free to continue partying and of course avoid any calls from TMZ asking why u sent 200 texts to a porn star in vegas thanking her for "connecting" with you (aka anal).

I know what you're saying...what fun is that? Well how much fun is it when you see ur face in public, and ur wife is at home swinging golf clubs at ur ass? Better yet, what fun is there when your a normal dude and ur wife, or husband, (yes ladies i didnt forget that you too love to get ur fair share random ass) decides it is fun to burn all ur clothes, smash up your shit, and fuck all ur friends? Oh now you're getting it...good.

For my people who clearly want to play the field, you can upgrade to the Professional Cock Block plus. See, the person can also block unwanted or potentially embarrassing questions, inquiries, and probes. Need to contact someone, merely have the PCB as the go between and they will take the heat. They answer all the questions from spouses, take the heat for keeping you out late, and yes, send the random piece of ass home so you dont have to get ur hands dirty. Asian Porn...PCB. Making sure the 22 year old coed knows what room you're staying at..PCB! Organizing the gang bang you have always wanted with two guys more than willing to oblige...PCB. These are all services or options that a PCB can offer that will keep you living like theCAPTAIN.

Now, please only trust a professional with this duty. Don't be like LeBron and believe a friend can do this for you. Ask Michael Vick how well that worked out when his DIE HARD/RIDE OR DIE homeys were placed in charge of vital secrets. No no need someone with EX CIA credentials or mentality who is still good looking enough to be believed when they are taking the blame for any activities you may lose your money over. Rest assured that PCBs are of the highest caliber and trustworthy people. If they say you were with them reading the bible and making a handmade gift for your spouse...guess what? People believe them! (ps. they will indeed make the gift handmade!)

Hey, i understand if you want to still go at it free form and take your chances. Shit, why not. I mean i am not here to judge, i am merely suggesting an alternative to losing all your shit and ruining your impeccable reputation your HONOR.


I can barely stand you...let's go out

Yes... you the chick about to go on eHarmony because you can't meet a good man...ever think maybe you should stop hanging at bars with the same fucking people you see every fucking weekend. he is not going to stop trying to fuck you and ur roomate at the same time on film. Hey homey...u who are worrying about being with only one woman the rest of your life. Maybe you should concentrate on the possibility of ending up with a toothless hooker named TAQUITA (yes pronounce TA-kwita). Dont run around bitching that there arent any good people left out there, and no, it is not a good idea to settle for that because..."maybe that's all there is out there."

Well you know what, on second thought...yeah that is all that is out there for your shiftless ass. There are no great men or great women left because they packed up the spaceship, took all the fruit flavored condomns and bolted the fuck out. I can tell you, the view of your fucked up planet is nice from this thing! do you know what drove us away? Really, do you want to know?

ALL YOUR WHINING! really, that is it. We were tapping that ass and you were using ur mouth to talk about ur problems and not moaning enough. so whatever...we out. Dont call, or text...we will hit u up later. PEACE!

Still hanging around huh..blowing up my Bberry and hotmail looking for closure. sucked and not in the good way. You either didnt know how to please us, or didnt we didnt care. Oh yeah, we stopped caring, and see above...the part about the fruit flavored condoms and rocking spaceship we have. Your constant need for attention was too much, and honestly we figured since you were so busy talking about yourself and what you need you wouldnt miss us. So...fuck off now, and quit blowing up my phone!

DAMN it...still sticking around are you?!?!!? were lame! You didnt want to do shit, see shit, try shit, or hear shit. It gets annoying doing the same shit day in and day out. Your fucking XBOX score is not impressive. I don't care what the latest Grey's Anatomy episode had to say and how it relates to our lives. "Hi how are you? How was your day?" should not lead to, "shhh..Meredith is so gonna get him to propose with a long winded speech about how she can't breathe!" Oh, and the college football set who go out drinking all damn day with your buddy....listen the fuck up. Your bitch is here with us. Wanna know why? CAUSE YOU'RE WATCHING FOOTBALL WITH YOUR BUDDIES ALL DAY, ALL WEEK, ALL THE TIME! So, while ur getting KUDOS for leaving ur woman at home like a pimp, there is a good guy up here getting his dick sucked. Oh, and she is up here taking it...and taking it well.

OH LORD ARE YOU SERIOUS...fine. Its you not me. No is. Look, it takes two to tango, and we found people rocking the shit out of that beat. That is the point of this PORNO. Getting along. Having fun. Sharing dreams, kisses, wine, sore inner thighs, whatever. We talk as we. So while ur liquoring urself up to build up the courage to blow that guy in the bathroom, or getting really shitfaced so that woman with EXTRA baggage will start looking good, we will be vacationing at Phloston Paradise. So really, no need to text. Wish you the best in all your endeavors and challenges, you know...all that jazz kiddo!


Eurythmics - Love is a Stranger

Monday, February 8, 2010


France is trying to ban Muslim women from wearing burqas while using public transport or state-funded institutions. Good idea, France. Muslims are known for level-headed reactions to things like this. Oh well, the Eiffel Tower was pretty while it lasted. How do you say "Ground Zero" in fag?


Watchu Talkin 'Bout!!

In case no one acknowledging Black History Month didn't tip you off, it's Black History Month. Yes, it's that magical time of year when Al Sharpton pops out of his hole, sees his shadow, and feigns significance for a few days. But do we still need this month?

With the exception of complacent progressives struggling to give their lives meaning, it seems no one gives race a second thought anymore. Especially now that the information age has shown us all races are equally saturated with dicks. And since we now have a blackish presidentish man in the White House, Black History Month seem downright silly; like sobriety or voting.

Besides, wouldn't it be better for all involved if the contributions of black people stood on their own merits, instead of being presented with the "pretty good for one of those people" qualifier? For those reasons and more it's time to end Black History Month. Still, February is so boring it should have some added significance. Below are some options.

Midget Month - Midgets have somewhat hopped the mini-shark with reality shows and whatnot, but I don't think the shortest month of the year is too much to ask for our shortest peoples. For bringing Ewoks and Munchkins to life, and for generally making us feel better about ourselves, these noble little freaks deserve Midguary.

Black People Who Accomplish Nothing Month - February has long been used to sing the praises of black inventors and the like. But what about the millions of blacks who haven't done jack shit? It's great that George Washington Carver found a hundred uses for peanuts, but doesn't Ray Ray or Pookie deserve a pat on the back for hitting a pony-sized bong and beating the DuckTales video game twice in one night?

Jew Holiday Month - I don't want to take anything away from Jews (mostly because their money-clutching talons are so powerful), but it would simplify things to take all their crazy observances that sound like dishes you order when you're feeling adventurous and cram them all into one month. Enjoy Roshanukkippur, my Jewy brethren!

Rational Conversation Month - Intended to counterbalance Valentine's, RCM will prohibit insincere affection and store-bought sentiment used to fog the mind and manipulate emotions of "adults" trying to convince themselves their orgasms aren't cheap and common. Instead, couples will calmly discuss why their relationship is unique and couldn't be replicated with any other adult who speaks the same language. I guess this could also be called Depressing Silence Month.

Terrorism Month - Okay, radical Muslims, if you pricks are so attention-starved you need to blow shit up for Allah (great way to win hearts and minds, by the way), go crazy all February. We'll even pretend to give a shit. We'll be like "Nooo... a-nother a-ttack. How will I go on? We done? Cool, I'm gonna go eat Oreo pizza and load my iPod. Have fun praying to the god who gave you celibacy and rubble."

Make-a-Month - Like Build-a-Bear, Make-a-Month lets individuals create what they please. You like Hitler and origami? Boom - it's Hitler and Origami Month. Into windsurfing and child abuse? Bang - it's Beat a Kid and Windsurf Month. Come to think of it, this is every month.

Why do we let society foist its crap on us? I don't give a shit about Jesus or MLK, yet I celebrate Christmas on December 25 and the third Monday of every January I get shot. Why? Because some different asshole I don't care about marked it on a calendar? Bullshit. So fuck it, from now on every month is Pot/Cartoons/Orgasm Month. I'M GONNA CELEBRATE!!!!


Alcohol is a powerful thing....

Now let me tell you about this little thing called is some funny ass shit. It can make you feel 10 feet tall or reduce u to 3 feet of rubble as you're praying to a porcelain god. Yes, many stories have been born from this entity and many more to come. I have written about the drunk text before, and the joy each one brings to the recipient. Now before you worry about me, dont! I am a certified as not having an alcohol or substance dependency. Oh yes..a shiny certificate and everything and armed with this, I dive full in and report the news.

The DRINKING GAME: not like asshole or card games, but the actual game of picking up a warm body to go home to. Drinking facilitates this process like lube to....wait...that is later on! Whilst people are drinking, you will see the inhibitions drip away without issue. For instance, this weekend my boy, we will call him WALLACE, decided he was Latin! Oh yes...LATIN! Mexican even. He felt the spirit call out to him and that included the spirit telling him to jack up his dance partner while listening to Mexican Cumbia music. That his partner was someone's mom/aunt/sister didn't stop him one bit because he is in the full DRUNKEN GAME zone. Oh yeah...full on lambada muthafuckas! This is also where the drunk text lives. Where lines like "so what does ur bed feel like" seem like the best of ideas to send to your first girlfriend after not talking to her for over 18 years. Yes, drinking brings out the best of times, and the worst of lines.

DRUNK STRENGTH: is the ability to all of a sudden be superhuman. You're picking up women, or your boyfriend, depending on the amount of alcohol involved. You have no issue sliding down stairs bare assed or front, and challenging people to do the same. Oh please dont even let me get started on backyard BBQ tackling...that is a whole other sport with absolutely no discernible rules as my brother found out when a 105lb missile laid his ass out. My other boy, lets reference him as Mij Mils, decides roman-greco wrestling with people twice his size is a good idea. I personally have never reached this level of stupidity, since once again, I AM CERTIFIED SOBER, but i have dabbled. I clearly need to imbibe more so that I can acquire my hulk-like strength...and next time I won't drop someone on their head. no worries, Drunk Strength also gives you DRUNK HEALTH. Concussions are for fucking sober pussies! Oh yeah, and totally get liquored up and go challenge the UFC fighter...u can totally kick his ass Clown Baby. Now let's whip off that shirt and we can get started.

DRUNKEN EMOTIONALITY: the experience only alcohol can bring that rocks u to ur very soul. Oh yes, you really do feel that strongly about ur bonds with your cat. Please, totally start slobbering on my fucking shirt. Hell, hug me and call me brother, and tell me you love you and me, you emotional muthafucka! Wait...i should shut up here...but I WONT!!! No, I will not fail to point out the emotional explosions that make every party a hit. Random threats about how ur gonna kick my ass, as ur bad breath ass is breathing in my face asking for me a beer and calling me cool! No please expound further on how you were the captain of the cheerleading squad, but that fucking bitch stole ur husband 10 years later. Shit man, i heart the random..."I love her" statements to women you don't even know. I need more "I want to marry him and have his babies" to a guy who is jacking up your cousin and i am sure giving her the "i love you" line.

Yes, Alcohol is a powerful and wonderful thing. It has brought humanity countless hours of joy and pain. Since I am CERTIFIED SOBER, I have concentrated on mastering how to serve really strong (but subtle) alcoholic drinks really quick just to see people fall out. That beer starts getting a little low...BOOM...another fucking beer muthafucka. Hell, you need a Tequila sidecar with that shit to get u ready for greatness.

As always, your reporter in the streets...


Sunday, February 7, 2010

There goes the fucking neighborhood...

man oh man...ALMIGHTY SAINT NATION!!! yes the Saints just won the SuperBowl and yes I am ecstatic to see the return of the Peyton Manning face (props to the SportsGuy).

It was a fun day being able to use the gang lingo I grew up hearing all up and down my block by some of the dumbest people ever. I mean, i am sure at the time it was real cool walking around wearing baby blue and black, proud to be in the street in uniform they threw on that day. Today, though it fit perfectly as a bunch of us got together and threw out the best lines we had. SAINT LOVE!


Nonsense, but cathartic now that i dont have to worry about bullets buzzing by my head because I might have offended the local punks. I ask though, where did it go wrong? How did we get there, and is my admiration for OLDE ENGLISH a little disturbing?

Fuck if i know, but it is funny to think of how far we have come, those of us who grew up in that. How, even though shit was rough, we made something out of it. How our will is stronger than most, and now we can joke about it, as we have earned to the right too.

Congrats Drew Brees and the New Orleans Saints...and thanks for a great game and the opportunity to act like a fool for 5 minutes. I would have rocked my colors, but then i remembered i never grew up on the damn streets because my Dad would have whooped my monkey ass! Thanks mom and dad! also props to my boys Ruf, Tony Martin, Romie Rome, Chris Cruz aka lilWolfy, and all my Back of the Yards people. Lili, you have made the cut, but ur not from there!

-iz3y 'lilNERD' lopez