Via Smoking Gun
"...Ohio cops this month arrested a man for drunk driving on a motorized bar stool."
This poor bastard was actually charged with a DUI. Hello? He was driving a fucking BAR STOOL. Bar stool?
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Metal Affirmations
Today’s reading comes all the way from the left coast and Austrian Death Machine:
Amen, brother. Amen.
Get to the choppa!
- Get to the Choppa
Amen, brother. Amen.
Traffic Experiment
Yes I know this is like the seventh post titled “Traffic Experiment.” I never promised you a fucking rose garden. What can I say? I’m just not that original.
Anyhoo…It’s Monday and my head hurts. My daughter has a thing at the school I have to be at in 45 minutes, and then I have to work all night. So cut me some slack.
How ‘bout some keyword searches that brought people to BBG? Here’s the latest and greatest:
“Bob’s bar and grill”, “Bob’s bar & grill”, “Bob’s boot bar and grill”, “bob’sbar”, “the bob, bar” and my personal favorite “bob bobs bar”
“Turtlerapeshoe”, “turtle rape shoe”, “turtle rapes shoe” and “turtle raping shoe” – No matter how you slice it, it’s still funny.
…and the winner for this week’s Learn-to-write-fucking-English-before-you-go-trolling-for-porn Award:
“search how to shoe grill,s boobes”
Really? You shouldn’t even be granted internet access if you can’t spell “Girl’s Boobs.”
The only way is could be remotely excusable is if the searcher is really four years old and hacked the parental controls on his dad’s computer. In which case, go here little dude.
Anyhoo…It’s Monday and my head hurts. My daughter has a thing at the school I have to be at in 45 minutes, and then I have to work all night. So cut me some slack.
How ‘bout some keyword searches that brought people to BBG? Here’s the latest and greatest:
“Bob’s bar and grill”, “Bob’s bar & grill”, “Bob’s boot bar and grill”, “bob’sbar”, “the bob, bar” and my personal favorite “bob bobs bar”
“Turtlerapeshoe”, “turtle rape shoe”, “turtle rapes shoe” and “turtle raping shoe” – No matter how you slice it, it’s still funny.
…and the winner for this week’s Learn-to-write-fucking-English-before-you-go-trolling-for-porn Award:
“search how to shoe grill,s boobes”
Really? You shouldn’t even be granted internet access if you can’t spell “Girl’s Boobs.”
The only way is could be remotely excusable is if the searcher is really four years old and hacked the parental controls on his dad’s computer. In which case, go here little dude.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Blah, Blah, Blah
It’s been a while since I’ve done a drunken post, but here goes:
How ‘bout some weekend headlines,
- Over the last 7 days, The Other McCain has sent me 42% of my traffic. Thanks Bob…I mean Robert…I mean, God bless, I hope you don’t go by Stacy. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
- For some strange reason all of my traffic dried up after The Other McCain mysteriously cut me off.
- I BOUGHT A NEW BIKE.
- I wasn’t really yelling about that. My finger slipped to the caps lock. I mean I am happy about the bike and all; I’m just not ‘all caps’ happy. Yes I know I could have just deleted it and started over but, Christ get off my fucking back. Whose blog is this anyway? Anyway, if you check out the bike, you’ll notice its got road bike wheels and tires on a mountain bike frame. I needed something I could ride really fast on the road, but since I’m allergic to spandex AND I don’t suck cock, I got a hybrid instead of a regular road bike.
- My friend Cheryl is back reading the blog. Hey!! I’m assuming it has got to be her, because I don’t know anyone else in Idaho. Idaho. That’s a funny name, cause I’m not the ho…I respect myself too much.
- I shit you not, but I’ve lost twenty pounds since the beginning of the year. My daily routine is that I have oatmeal for breakfast, nonfat cottage cheese for lunch, run 4 miles, go to work, then I have salad for dinner. I never sit still and don’t have any carbs after dinner, unless it comes in the form of some beer. Beer comes directly from God so if you don’t drink it, the Almighty gets pissed.
- If I cut beer out of my diet, I would weigh 85 pounds now.
- The Wife and The Girl are painting the Girl’s room this color:
- Sometimes I wish I smoked crack.
- I have Victory Prima Pils on tap. It’s good, but it is more of a summer beer. Oh well, at least it has alcohol. How else would I drown my feelings?
- I hate my job. The American people in general are not worth protecting.
- I’d show you a picture of my new bike, but I’m just too fucking lazy. Just trust me that, it looks like the one from the website only my fat ass is on it.
- I took the family to a four course dinner at the High Street Grill for restaurant week. That’s right fuckers…not only am I cool, but I’m also cultured. This place is fucking sweet so you should go give them some of your money if you’re in the area. Plus they have a kick ass tap list. Go…now. Well, technically it is too late for restaurant week, so you’re shit out of luck. Trust me though, it was really good…I had a baby spinach salad, then a filet mignon strudel, then for the main course, I had a Thai style crab cake over wasabi potatoes, and then a dessert medley. Fuckin’ sweet.
- Mixed into that dinner I also had four Victory Donnybrook Stouts. Best. Stout. Ever.
- Alright, it’s almost eleven and my head won’t sit still. I’m going to bed. See ya 2morrow wankers.
How ‘bout some weekend headlines,
- Over the last 7 days, The Other McCain has sent me 42% of my traffic. Thanks Bob…I mean Robert…I mean, God bless, I hope you don’t go by Stacy. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
- For some strange reason all of my traffic dried up after The Other McCain mysteriously cut me off.
- I BOUGHT A NEW BIKE.
- I wasn’t really yelling about that. My finger slipped to the caps lock. I mean I am happy about the bike and all; I’m just not ‘all caps’ happy. Yes I know I could have just deleted it and started over but, Christ get off my fucking back. Whose blog is this anyway? Anyway, if you check out the bike, you’ll notice its got road bike wheels and tires on a mountain bike frame. I needed something I could ride really fast on the road, but since I’m allergic to spandex AND I don’t suck cock, I got a hybrid instead of a regular road bike.
- My friend Cheryl is back reading the blog. Hey!! I’m assuming it has got to be her, because I don’t know anyone else in Idaho. Idaho. That’s a funny name, cause I’m not the ho…I respect myself too much.
- I shit you not, but I’ve lost twenty pounds since the beginning of the year. My daily routine is that I have oatmeal for breakfast, nonfat cottage cheese for lunch, run 4 miles, go to work, then I have salad for dinner. I never sit still and don’t have any carbs after dinner, unless it comes in the form of some beer. Beer comes directly from God so if you don’t drink it, the Almighty gets pissed.
- If I cut beer out of my diet, I would weigh 85 pounds now.
- The Wife and The Girl are painting the Girl’s room this color:
- Sometimes I wish I smoked crack.
- I have Victory Prima Pils on tap. It’s good, but it is more of a summer beer. Oh well, at least it has alcohol. How else would I drown my feelings?
- I hate my job. The American people in general are not worth protecting.
- I’d show you a picture of my new bike, but I’m just too fucking lazy. Just trust me that, it looks like the one from the website only my fat ass is on it.
- I took the family to a four course dinner at the High Street Grill for restaurant week. That’s right fuckers…not only am I cool, but I’m also cultured. This place is fucking sweet so you should go give them some of your money if you’re in the area. Plus they have a kick ass tap list. Go…now. Well, technically it is too late for restaurant week, so you’re shit out of luck. Trust me though, it was really good…I had a baby spinach salad, then a filet mignon strudel, then for the main course, I had a Thai style crab cake over wasabi potatoes, and then a dessert medley. Fuckin’ sweet.
- Mixed into that dinner I also had four Victory Donnybrook Stouts. Best. Stout. Ever.
- Alright, it’s almost eleven and my head won’t sit still. I’m going to bed. See ya 2morrow wankers.
Metal Affirmations
Lamb of God Double Shot of Love
Stick to your guns
The difference is mine are loaded
- A Devil in God’s Country
Forgiving the father
Read the story on my skin
Tell me more about the man I should have been
- Grace
Friday, March 27, 2009
Metal Affirmations
…and now a letter from Lamb of God to the people:
Speak in defense of our good name
The blood of kin grants absolution
I’ll join them soon enough in the ground of God’s country
- In Defense of Our Good Name
Fat Ass? I think not
My BMI is currently 29.92 so, as of this morning, I am no longer obese. I’m just overweight.
For those of you that don’t know, a Body Mass Index (BMI) of 18.5 – 25 is considered healthy, 25 – 30 is overweight and over 30 is obese.
Now I know what you’re thinking.
If you just quit drinking all that beer, you’d be under the 25 threshold in no time.
Yea…and if I cut off my arms and legs I would too. Fuckin’ morons.
For those of you that don’t know, a Body Mass Index (BMI) of 18.5 – 25 is considered healthy, 25 – 30 is overweight and over 30 is obese.
Now I know what you’re thinking.
If you just quit drinking all that beer, you’d be under the 25 threshold in no time.
Yea…and if I cut off my arms and legs I would too. Fuckin’ morons.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Ray Van Horn reviews Wrath
Ray over at The Metal Minute wrote an excellent review of Lamb of God’s Wrath.
I totally agree…go read it.
…someone must've shit on their Cracker Barrel shingles because their latest
album Wrath comes out bearing great titular fortitude.
I totally agree…go read it.
I win again
From fork in the head
I’m not sure how I feel about this.
Take the Seven Deadly Sins Quiz
I’m not sure how I feel about this.
| Greed: | Medium | |
| Gluttony: | High | |
| Wrath: | High | |
| Sloth: | Low | |
| Envy: | Low | |
| Lust: | High | |
| Pride: | Medium |
Take the Seven Deadly Sins Quiz
Metal Affirmations
A reading from the gospel of Slayer:
Hate heals, you should try sometime
Strive for peace with acts of war
The beauty of death we all adore
I have no faith distracting me
I know why your prayers will never be answered
God hates us all
- Disciple
Is it Summer yet?
My nerdy brother-in-law accosting Summer Glau in a bar:
…and since that doesn’t really satisfy Rule 5.:
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
South Park
That may have been the greatest fucking South Park ever made. When
they showed Obama at the end I damn near pissed my pants.
they showed Obama at the end I damn near pissed my pants.
Sent from my iPhone
Metal Affirmations
In preparation for the upcoming Lamb of God concert for which I have tickets,
I am opening a new segment on Bob’s Bar and Grill…
…wait for it…
Metal Affirmations. (thunderous applause)
So without further delay, I bring you a reading from the gospel of LoG:
I am opening a new segment on Bob’s Bar and Grill…
…wait for it…
Metal Affirmations. (thunderous applause)
So without further delay, I bring you a reading from the gospel of LoG:
Turn and bite.
Turn and bite the hand that bleeds you dry.
Throw yourself a bone, no one else will.
Compromise leads to self-loathing.
Money, the excrement of labor.
- Boot Scraper
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
We call each other “snookems”
WWTDD is reporting Megan Fox is not single.
Of course not, who do you think I visit when I tell the Wife I’m going to practice war.
On a totally unrelated note, I really like this necklace.
Of course not, who do you think I visit when I tell the Wife I’m going to practice war.
On a totally unrelated note, I really like this necklace.
Three more years
Just three more fucking years, Bob. You can do it. Hell, you might even be able to do it without maiming anyone.
If I ever hear any of you bitch about your jobs, I swear to Christ I’ll reach through this screen and choke the shit out of you.
As you may recall, I went on a nice vacation to Mississippi a couple weeks back where we held a quaint little practice war for the week.
Yea…it was fucking great.
In case I didn’t tell you, that practice war was just practice for the “real” practice war we have coming up in June.
Now I just found out last night we are going to be MOPPing up every Wednesday and doing little mini practice wars from now until June.
It really is a shame we don’t have any real wars going on right now. Of course then the people who grade the practice wars might have to …I don’t know…duck.
On an almost unrelated side note, I really hate Lieutenants. They are truly, truly fucking useless.
If I ever hear any of you bitch about your jobs, I swear to Christ I’ll reach through this screen and choke the shit out of you.
As you may recall, I went on a nice vacation to Mississippi a couple weeks back where we held a quaint little practice war for the week.
Yea…it was fucking great.
In case I didn’t tell you, that practice war was just practice for the “real” practice war we have coming up in June.
Now I just found out last night we are going to be MOPPing up every Wednesday and doing little mini practice wars from now until June.
It really is a shame we don’t have any real wars going on right now. Of course then the people who grade the practice wars might have to …I don’t know…duck.
On an almost unrelated side note, I really hate Lieutenants. They are truly, truly fucking useless.
Monday, March 23, 2009
New Favorite Brewski
I gotta say, I never thought I’d find a beer I like better than Sly Fox O’Reilly’s Stout, but there’s a pretty good chance that day has come.
I’ve been pretty busy the last few weeks with work and chores around the house so The Wife and I haven’t been able to make it out to our usual watering hole, The High Street Grill in Mount Holly. As restaurants go, I could take it or leave it, but the High Street has one of the best tap lists in the tri-state area.
As it turned out, the girl got invited to a Twilight screening at one of her friend’s house on Saturday so we’d get the chance to live it up for a few hours. I know. That’s pretty advantageous for us seeing as how the girl’s not even a chubby middle-aged housewife and all.
So we get to the bar and to my utter disgust I find Guinness of all things where they usually have the O’Reilly’s which also happens to be the only stout/nitrogen pour tap.
Crrrrap! (rolled rrr with bad Irish accent)
Wait…what the hell is that I see? Another stout tap?
Turns out they put in another one in the past couple weeks and no one called to tell me. And they put in a beer I’ve always want to try, but I’ve never seen anywhere.
Victory Donnybrook Stout (cue heavenly music)
It’s smooth and something and something else. It has mellow something with hints of something and something. And some kind of finish.
Hey, I’ve not a fucking beer critic, I’m a beer drinker. I’m lucky I spelled it right.
I’ve been pretty busy the last few weeks with work and chores around the house so The Wife and I haven’t been able to make it out to our usual watering hole, The High Street Grill in Mount Holly. As restaurants go, I could take it or leave it, but the High Street has one of the best tap lists in the tri-state area.
As it turned out, the girl got invited to a Twilight screening at one of her friend’s house on Saturday so we’d get the chance to live it up for a few hours. I know. That’s pretty advantageous for us seeing as how the girl’s not even a chubby middle-aged housewife and all.
So we get to the bar and to my utter disgust I find Guinness of all things where they usually have the O’Reilly’s which also happens to be the only stout/nitrogen pour tap.
Crrrrap! (rolled rrr with bad Irish accent)
Wait…what the hell is that I see? Another stout tap?
Turns out they put in another one in the past couple weeks and no one called to tell me. And they put in a beer I’ve always want to try, but I’ve never seen anywhere.
Victory Donnybrook Stout (cue heavenly music)
It’s smooth and something and something else. It has mellow something with hints of something and something. And some kind of finish.
Hey, I’ve not a fucking beer critic, I’m a beer drinker. I’m lucky I spelled it right.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Traffic Experiment – Update
As you all know, I ran an experiment a few weeks back where I slipped the phrase “Miley Cyrus Nude” into a post just to see how many hits I got from perverts searching said phrase.
So far…zip, zero, nada. No hits for “Miley Cyrus Nude”. So this could lead you to believe people just aren’t as fucked up as you would think.
Guess again junior. May I present the following keyword searches that led people to Bob’s Bar and Grill:
“Turtlerapeshoe” – You know, I can’t really fault them for this one. That’s just pee your pants funny.
“Man Nipples” – I kinda wish this one was a little more specific. This could very well be some concerned housewife whose husband has a medical problem in the nippular region. But, we all know it was some sick fuck with a hairy nipple fetish.
“Earn by doing job in bear bar” – This search is a prime example of why spelling is so important in school today. While this poor dumb bitch was probably trying to figure the ins and outs of getting an honest job at the local titty bar, she’s now relegated to serving salmon martinis to ungrateful Ursinae at the Kodiak Club. Fuckin’ bears, we need to run them out of this country.
…and my personal favorite.
“American girll fuc” – Some poor fuckin’ Iranian learned almost enough English to go on the internet and find him some good old red, white and blue ‘batin pics…and what does he get? My fat ass. Yeah, Fuck you too.
Fuckin’ Iranians…they’re almost as bad as bears.
So far…zip, zero, nada. No hits for “Miley Cyrus Nude”. So this could lead you to believe people just aren’t as fucked up as you would think.
Guess again junior. May I present the following keyword searches that led people to Bob’s Bar and Grill:
“Turtlerapeshoe” – You know, I can’t really fault them for this one. That’s just pee your pants funny.
“Man Nipples” – I kinda wish this one was a little more specific. This could very well be some concerned housewife whose husband has a medical problem in the nippular region. But, we all know it was some sick fuck with a hairy nipple fetish.
“Earn by doing job in bear bar” – This search is a prime example of why spelling is so important in school today. While this poor dumb bitch was probably trying to figure the ins and outs of getting an honest job at the local titty bar, she’s now relegated to serving salmon martinis to ungrateful Ursinae at the Kodiak Club. Fuckin’ bears, we need to run them out of this country.
…and my personal favorite.
“American girll fuc” – Some poor fuckin’ Iranian learned almost enough English to go on the internet and find him some good old red, white and blue ‘batin pics…and what does he get? My fat ass. Yeah, Fuck you too.
Fuckin’ Iranians…they’re almost as bad as bears.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
A new meme
From ...so I stabbed him in the head with a fork
Bold the states you’ve been to, underline the states you’ve lived in and italicize the state you’re in now…
Alabama / Alaska / Arizona / Arkansas / California / Colorado / Connecticut / Delaware / Florida / Georgia / Hawaii / Idaho / Illinois / Indiana / Iowa / Kansas / Kentucky / Louisiana / Maine / Maryland / Massachusetts / Michigan / Minnesota / Mississippi / Missouri / Montana / Nebraska / Nevada / New Hampshire / New Jersey / New Mexico / New York / North Carolina / North Dakota / Ohio / Oklahoma / Oregon / Pennsylvania / Rhode Island / South Carolina / South Dakota / Tennessee / Texas / Utah / Vermont / Virginia / Washington / West Virginia / Wisconsin / Wyoming / Washington D.C /
Anyone can do the meme (I'm not tagging anyone specifically) but leave me a link if you play along. If you don't have a blog, feel free to play along in the comments.
I normally don’t do these, but I figure I have a good chance of winning this one.
This is a contest, right?
Bold the states you’ve been to, underline the states you’ve lived in and italicize the state you’re in now…
Alabama / Alaska / Arizona / Arkansas / California / Colorado / Connecticut / Delaware / Florida / Georgia / Hawaii / Idaho / Illinois / Indiana / Iowa / Kansas / Kentucky / Louisiana / Maine / Maryland / Massachusetts / Michigan / Minnesota / Mississippi / Missouri / Montana / Nebraska / Nevada / New Hampshire / New Jersey / New Mexico / New York / North Carolina / North Dakota / Ohio / Oklahoma / Oregon / Pennsylvania / Rhode Island / South Carolina / South Dakota / Tennessee / Texas / Utah / Vermont / Virginia / Washington / West Virginia / Wisconsin / Wyoming / Washington D.C /
Anyone can do the meme (I'm not tagging anyone specifically) but leave me a link if you play along. If you don't have a blog, feel free to play along in the comments.
I normally don’t do these, but I figure I have a good chance of winning this one.
This is a contest, right?
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Oh no…not a political post.
Perhaps one of the greatest events to ever occur in the history of the world took place over the winter. It really was a shame that I was off the air at the time because this type if momentous happening was just the sort of thing this blog was created to discuss. No, I’m not talking about a black guy getting elected president. I really couldn’t fuckin’ care less and as far as I’m concerned, all politicians are only out for themselves. Besides, he still thinks he’s better than me, so fuck him…elitist asshole douchebag.
I am, of course, talking about the kegerator I got for Christmas.
I am, of course, talking about the kegerator I got for Christmas.
I’m not too sure if I’ve ever mentioned this before, but I kind of like beer.
I’m sporting a sixtel of Victory HopDevil at the moment because I was really craving some bitterness after the last keg. I made the mistake of letting The Wife pick up the last one unsupervised, which was partly cool cause she paid and all, but she ended up coming home with Riverhorse Tripel because she just picked one at random.
Don’t get me wrong, I like a good Belgian style ale and I’ve had this beer before, but after a whole sixtel of that 10% a.b.v. syrupy sweetness I was ready to move on and the HopDevil is really hitting the spot.
PS. Happy Saint Patty’s Day
Monday, March 16, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
V is for Victory…and that’s good enough for me.
Well faithful few, the fake war is over and I am home sweet home again. I got in yesterday evening about six o’clockish and I gotta say…I’m fuckin’ beat. This exercise was a fucking ball buster.
For those of you with any military know how, I’ll just say we were in and out of MOPP 4 all week in the Mississippi heat.
For those of you without the luxury of military training, please follow these steps for a better understanding:
1. Put all of your clothes on. Every fucking stitch you own.
2. Get a fishing vest, fill every pocket with lead and put that on over your clothes.
3. Put a plastic bag over your head, cinch it down tight then poke a pinhole to breathe through.
4. Find the heaviest pot in your house and put it on your head.
5. Now run up and down your block for thirty minutes.
6. Then dig a hole in your front yard deep enough for you to sit in.
7. Sit in it for two hours while desperately trying to catch your breath through that pinhole.
8. Repeat steps 5 and 7 for twelve hours in the Mississippi heat.
Yea…that was my week. I lost 7 pounds in four days.
So it goes without saying, when I got home yesterday I got a little drunk. And the winners were…in the following order:
2 Troegs Nugget Nectar 7.5%
1 Founders Double Trouble 9.4%
2 Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA 9.0%
1 Victory Hop Wallop 8.5%
…and then I passed the fuck out.
For those of you with any military know how, I’ll just say we were in and out of MOPP 4 all week in the Mississippi heat.
For those of you without the luxury of military training, please follow these steps for a better understanding:
1. Put all of your clothes on. Every fucking stitch you own.
2. Get a fishing vest, fill every pocket with lead and put that on over your clothes.
3. Put a plastic bag over your head, cinch it down tight then poke a pinhole to breathe through.
4. Find the heaviest pot in your house and put it on your head.
5. Now run up and down your block for thirty minutes.
6. Then dig a hole in your front yard deep enough for you to sit in.
7. Sit in it for two hours while desperately trying to catch your breath through that pinhole.
8. Repeat steps 5 and 7 for twelve hours in the Mississippi heat.
Yea…that was my week. I lost 7 pounds in four days.
So it goes without saying, when I got home yesterday I got a little drunk. And the winners were…in the following order:
2 Troegs Nugget Nectar 7.5%
1 Founders Double Trouble 9.4%
2 Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA 9.0%
1 Victory Hop Wallop 8.5%
…and then I passed the fuck out.
Political Rant
Originally posted 21 May 2008
Yesterday the AP reported the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit ruled that the U.S. discriminates against the blind in the way the Treasury Department designs its bills.
“The decision could force the Treasury Department to make bills of different sizes or print them with raised markings or other distinguishing features.”
“The American Council of the Blind sued for such changes, but the government has been fighting the case for about six years.”
I thought we’ve heard this before?
The article sites opposition from the makers of vending and change machines, but I suspect something far more sinister. We’ve all heard of the controlling influence “Big Oil” and “Big Tobacco” have on Washington and organized lobbying groups like the NRA and the ACLU seem to be in the news everyday, but very few people have hear of the most powerful lobbying firm in Washington.
The American Stripper Society.
If the American Council for the Blind has its way, the hardest hit won’t be vending machine manufacturers. It will be the very people whose profits the ASS was formed to protect.
The ASS was formed in 1773 from the remnants of the now defunct British Union of Tavern Trollopes, whose last big fight with the early colonial government was the Corset Reform Act of 1765. Since then they’ve won numerous legislative battles, the most notable of which were the Mandatory Bustle Laws of 1883 and the great Silicon Tax battle of 1974. Their newest engagement seems to be the largest and most devious to date.
It’s estimated that strippers earn $4.2 billion a year as a direct result of drunken patrons’ inability to tell a $1 bill from a $20 in dark, smoky strip clubs. If the Treasury Department decides to vary the size of U.S. currency, these strippers will see a marked decrease in their annual profits and millions upon millions of honest hardworking strip club patrons will cease to be taken advantage of. The ASS is throwing all their considerable weight behind a grassroots effort to ensure that doesn’t happen.
This cannot stand. Call your congressman today and tell them you are tired of being pushed around by “Big ASS”.
Yesterday the AP reported the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit ruled that the U.S. discriminates against the blind in the way the Treasury Department designs its bills.
“The decision could force the Treasury Department to make bills of different sizes or print them with raised markings or other distinguishing features.”
“The American Council of the Blind sued for such changes, but the government has been fighting the case for about six years.”
I thought we’ve heard this before?
The article sites opposition from the makers of vending and change machines, but I suspect something far more sinister. We’ve all heard of the controlling influence “Big Oil” and “Big Tobacco” have on Washington and organized lobbying groups like the NRA and the ACLU seem to be in the news everyday, but very few people have hear of the most powerful lobbying firm in Washington.
The American Stripper Society.
If the American Council for the Blind has its way, the hardest hit won’t be vending machine manufacturers. It will be the very people whose profits the ASS was formed to protect.
The ASS was formed in 1773 from the remnants of the now defunct British Union of Tavern Trollopes, whose last big fight with the early colonial government was the Corset Reform Act of 1765. Since then they’ve won numerous legislative battles, the most notable of which were the Mandatory Bustle Laws of 1883 and the great Silicon Tax battle of 1974. Their newest engagement seems to be the largest and most devious to date.
It’s estimated that strippers earn $4.2 billion a year as a direct result of drunken patrons’ inability to tell a $1 bill from a $20 in dark, smoky strip clubs. If the Treasury Department decides to vary the size of U.S. currency, these strippers will see a marked decrease in their annual profits and millions upon millions of honest hardworking strip club patrons will cease to be taken advantage of. The ASS is throwing all their considerable weight behind a grassroots effort to ensure that doesn’t happen.
This cannot stand. Call your congressman today and tell them you are tired of being pushed around by “Big ASS”.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Good Afternoon Boys and Girls…
Originally posted 10 May 2008
…can you say hangover?
Man, I had fun last night. I started the evening directly after work with a quick jaunt to the Club for a few pitchers of Yuengling and some spicy chicken fingers with the boys. The beer was cold, but there was way too much work talk. That and a couple of muckety-muck douche bags tried to muscle in on our table. From there, my buddy Woody and I had plans to go the Flying Fish brewery in Cherry Hill, but first we had to swing by his house for some Magic Hat that he had been raving about.
I’ve read some pretty good reviews about Magic Hat #9 and apparently a lot of people like it, but I didn’t. It’s too fruity. Not Village People fruity, apricot fruity. I’m sure The Wife would like it; in fact I think I’ll pick her up some today, but I want to try their Lucky Kat or hI.P.A.
We ended up getting lost on the way to Flying Fish and damn near didn’t make it. The whole reason we were going was because Don Russell aka “Joe Sixpack” was there signing copies of his book Philly Beer Guide and he was only supposed to be there from 5-7 pm. At 6:30 we had no idea where this brewery was. Apparently it’s pretty fucking easy to hide a whole brewery. No wonder Eliot Ness had so much trouble.
We ended up finding the place about 6:45, but it didn’t really matter because Don got caught in traffic and didn’t get there until 6:00 anyway. After we got our copies, we decided to hang out and sample the wares they were pouring. They had their ESB, Farmhouse Summer Ale, Belgian Abbey Dubbel and Big Fish Barleywine. I’d had the ESB and Farmhouse before and they’re good but not overly impressive. Big Fish was my first barleywine. It was good, but I have no frame of reference. The Dubbel was really good. Strong, thick and warm. Not the kind of beer you want to drink a case of while sitting in the hot sun.
After numerous samplings, we headed for the gift shop where I ended up getting two pint classes, a hat and a t-shirt for The Wife. After all the book signing, beer sampling, gift buying and shit talking, I had totally lost track of time. When we got back to the car it was 7:33 and I realized I was missing the Pens/Flyers game.
We headed for the bar down the road from my house to watch the game because a) I knew they would have the game on, b) the place is kind of quiet, with an older crowd so the chances of me getting my ass kicked for rooting for the Penguins was pretty slim and c) my neighbor bartends there and usually hooks me up.
I would have liked to stick with Flying Fish, but they only had Farmhouse on tap and I was in the mood for something stronger. I settled on Black and Tans with the Guinness first and the Bass on top so it all mixes up. After about five of them, a plate of really hot buffalo wings, the Penguins kicking the Flyers asses and no one kicking my ass even though I was cheering for the nonlocal team, I was plenty ready to call it a night. So, of course when I got home I had to play drunken Rock Band with the family for another two hours.
…can you say hangover?
Man, I had fun last night. I started the evening directly after work with a quick jaunt to the Club for a few pitchers of Yuengling and some spicy chicken fingers with the boys. The beer was cold, but there was way too much work talk. That and a couple of muckety-muck douche bags tried to muscle in on our table. From there, my buddy Woody and I had plans to go the Flying Fish brewery in Cherry Hill, but first we had to swing by his house for some Magic Hat that he had been raving about.
I’ve read some pretty good reviews about Magic Hat #9 and apparently a lot of people like it, but I didn’t. It’s too fruity. Not Village People fruity, apricot fruity. I’m sure The Wife would like it; in fact I think I’ll pick her up some today, but I want to try their Lucky Kat or hI.P.A.
We ended up getting lost on the way to Flying Fish and damn near didn’t make it. The whole reason we were going was because Don Russell aka “Joe Sixpack” was there signing copies of his book Philly Beer Guide and he was only supposed to be there from 5-7 pm. At 6:30 we had no idea where this brewery was. Apparently it’s pretty fucking easy to hide a whole brewery. No wonder Eliot Ness had so much trouble.
We ended up finding the place about 6:45, but it didn’t really matter because Don got caught in traffic and didn’t get there until 6:00 anyway. After we got our copies, we decided to hang out and sample the wares they were pouring. They had their ESB, Farmhouse Summer Ale, Belgian Abbey Dubbel and Big Fish Barleywine. I’d had the ESB and Farmhouse before and they’re good but not overly impressive. Big Fish was my first barleywine. It was good, but I have no frame of reference. The Dubbel was really good. Strong, thick and warm. Not the kind of beer you want to drink a case of while sitting in the hot sun.
After numerous samplings, we headed for the gift shop where I ended up getting two pint classes, a hat and a t-shirt for The Wife. After all the book signing, beer sampling, gift buying and shit talking, I had totally lost track of time. When we got back to the car it was 7:33 and I realized I was missing the Pens/Flyers game.
We headed for the bar down the road from my house to watch the game because a) I knew they would have the game on, b) the place is kind of quiet, with an older crowd so the chances of me getting my ass kicked for rooting for the Penguins was pretty slim and c) my neighbor bartends there and usually hooks me up.
I would have liked to stick with Flying Fish, but they only had Farmhouse on tap and I was in the mood for something stronger. I settled on Black and Tans with the Guinness first and the Bass on top so it all mixes up. After about five of them, a plate of really hot buffalo wings, the Penguins kicking the Flyers asses and no one kicking my ass even though I was cheering for the nonlocal team, I was plenty ready to call it a night. So, of course when I got home I had to play drunken Rock Band with the family for another two hours.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
First Post Referencing Man-Nipples
Originally posted 3 Apr 2008
Well I was going to go to the track this afternoon to get some running in, seeing as how I have to test pretty soon, but alas, I forgot my socks. I thought I packed everything in the old gym bag this morning: shorty-short running shorts for maximum taint ventilation – check, baggy t-shirt to hide floppy man-boobs – check, windbreaker because it’s still cold and if my floppy man-nipples get hard I’ll cut my way out of my baggy t-shirt – check, running shoes that I don’t have anything funny to say about – check and IPod because hey, you can’t run without an IPod right? This isn’t the Stone Age – check.
Yep, I thought I had everything except when I dug into my gym bag, no socks. I suppose I could wear the big black wool socks I’ve been wearing all day, but no. I just can’t make myself go out in public wearing shorts and black socks; I’m not my dad. Nope, not going to do it. Besides, they’re already pretty nasty and God knows what they’d smell like after a couple laps.
So instead of running, I’m going to keep the door to my office closed, pretend like I left for the track already and blog a little in my underwear. Don’t worry I’m not doing anything creepy. Besides…wait for it…ok I have my pants back on. Feel better?
Hmmm. Anything else going on? Not really. Readership seemed to have taken a nosedive over the past week. I think it might have something to do with my excessive use of profanity in the last few posts. I don’t have anything to base that conclusion on. It’s just a straight up guess. I suppose that might turn some people off, so I’ll try to tone it down from now on. Sorry. “Man-nipples” isn’t profane is it? My mom told me once that people swear because they don’t have anything intelligent to say, but what the fuck does she know? Sorry, sorry, sorry. Ok, I mean from now on.
Sweet, it’s 4:00. I’ve wasted just enough time. See you tomorrow.
Well I was going to go to the track this afternoon to get some running in, seeing as how I have to test pretty soon, but alas, I forgot my socks. I thought I packed everything in the old gym bag this morning: shorty-short running shorts for maximum taint ventilation – check, baggy t-shirt to hide floppy man-boobs – check, windbreaker because it’s still cold and if my floppy man-nipples get hard I’ll cut my way out of my baggy t-shirt – check, running shoes that I don’t have anything funny to say about – check and IPod because hey, you can’t run without an IPod right? This isn’t the Stone Age – check.
Yep, I thought I had everything except when I dug into my gym bag, no socks. I suppose I could wear the big black wool socks I’ve been wearing all day, but no. I just can’t make myself go out in public wearing shorts and black socks; I’m not my dad. Nope, not going to do it. Besides, they’re already pretty nasty and God knows what they’d smell like after a couple laps.
So instead of running, I’m going to keep the door to my office closed, pretend like I left for the track already and blog a little in my underwear. Don’t worry I’m not doing anything creepy. Besides…wait for it…ok I have my pants back on. Feel better?
Hmmm. Anything else going on? Not really. Readership seemed to have taken a nosedive over the past week. I think it might have something to do with my excessive use of profanity in the last few posts. I don’t have anything to base that conclusion on. It’s just a straight up guess. I suppose that might turn some people off, so I’ll try to tone it down from now on. Sorry. “Man-nipples” isn’t profane is it? My mom told me once that people swear because they don’t have anything intelligent to say, but what the fuck does she know? Sorry, sorry, sorry. Ok, I mean from now on.
Sweet, it’s 4:00. I’ve wasted just enough time. See you tomorrow.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
C.Y.A.
Originally posted 20 Mar 2008
Anyone who knows me knows I love a good ass-chewing. Hey sometimes you need one. Sometimes you need to give one out. It’s a fact of life; people screw up and need corrected. Being in somewhat of a managerial position, sometimes I have to yell at the people below me for whatever reason, be it handing in less than stellar work to just showing up late.
Problem is though that some people don’t take kindly to nor appreciate a good reaming. Some ass-chewees get a little vindictive after their ball out and decide to make up things about the counseling session that didn’t actually happen. The last thing you want is for this person to go above your head or, even worse, go to HR and make up lies about you. Don’t get me wrong, evils like sexual harassment, racism and workplace intimidation are inexcusable to say the least. They’re criminal. But there are those individuals who might not accept the fact that they screwed up and fire back in the only way they know how. Lies.
This is where the concept of CYA comes in. Cover Your Ass. Plain and simple, get yourself a witness to sit in on the ass-chewing session. Make sure that the person you pick is your peer (or higher) and not the chewee’s. That would be too embarrassing and who says they’ll even stick up for you if it hits the fan. Also make sure your witness is reliable and in good standing with the company. You don’t want the only guy on your side to be brought up on separate charges for stealing Twinkies from the office snack bar.
So if you find yourself called upon to act as ass-chewing witness, please follow these simple guidelines:
1. Don’t be late. You don’t want to be the reason for awkward silence between chewer and chewee.
2. Don’t participate. The chewee will feel ganged up on.
3. Don’t contradict the chewer. They’ll lose authority in the eyes of the chewee.
4. Don’t look at the chewee. If they give you those bunny eyes you might cave and commit #3.
5. Don’t roll you eyes when you find out the chewer is wasting your time because the only thing he is complaining about is the fact that the chewee failed to buy the right color post-its.
6. Don’t evaluate the chewer’s office. Even though you might want to copy the furniture arrangement depending on the Feng Shui.
7. Don’t get up from your chair and take back the stapler, scissors, three-hole punch, coffee cup or favorite pen that the chewer stole from your office.
8. Don’t, under any circumstances, make any jokes about TPS reports.
Hopefully by following these simple rules, whether covering your ass as ass-chewer or stepping up as ass-chewing witness, you can avert any problems that may arise.
Note 1: Just so you know, there are currently no legal actions against me from anyone whose ass I chewed
Note 2: I was called upon to act as ass-chewing witness this morning and broke three of my own rules which prompted me to write this article. (guess which three)
Note 3: I haven’t used the words “ass” and “chewee” so many times in the same article since I wrote that review for Star Wars Porn.
Answers: #1, #5 and Secret rule #9 – Don’t try to inconspicuously play Texas Hold’em on your cell phone during the ass-chewing.
Anyone who knows me knows I love a good ass-chewing. Hey sometimes you need one. Sometimes you need to give one out. It’s a fact of life; people screw up and need corrected. Being in somewhat of a managerial position, sometimes I have to yell at the people below me for whatever reason, be it handing in less than stellar work to just showing up late.
Problem is though that some people don’t take kindly to nor appreciate a good reaming. Some ass-chewees get a little vindictive after their ball out and decide to make up things about the counseling session that didn’t actually happen. The last thing you want is for this person to go above your head or, even worse, go to HR and make up lies about you. Don’t get me wrong, evils like sexual harassment, racism and workplace intimidation are inexcusable to say the least. They’re criminal. But there are those individuals who might not accept the fact that they screwed up and fire back in the only way they know how. Lies.
This is where the concept of CYA comes in. Cover Your Ass. Plain and simple, get yourself a witness to sit in on the ass-chewing session. Make sure that the person you pick is your peer (or higher) and not the chewee’s. That would be too embarrassing and who says they’ll even stick up for you if it hits the fan. Also make sure your witness is reliable and in good standing with the company. You don’t want the only guy on your side to be brought up on separate charges for stealing Twinkies from the office snack bar.
So if you find yourself called upon to act as ass-chewing witness, please follow these simple guidelines:
1. Don’t be late. You don’t want to be the reason for awkward silence between chewer and chewee.
2. Don’t participate. The chewee will feel ganged up on.
3. Don’t contradict the chewer. They’ll lose authority in the eyes of the chewee.
4. Don’t look at the chewee. If they give you those bunny eyes you might cave and commit #3.
5. Don’t roll you eyes when you find out the chewer is wasting your time because the only thing he is complaining about is the fact that the chewee failed to buy the right color post-its.
6. Don’t evaluate the chewer’s office. Even though you might want to copy the furniture arrangement depending on the Feng Shui.
7. Don’t get up from your chair and take back the stapler, scissors, three-hole punch, coffee cup or favorite pen that the chewer stole from your office.
8. Don’t, under any circumstances, make any jokes about TPS reports.
Hopefully by following these simple rules, whether covering your ass as ass-chewer or stepping up as ass-chewing witness, you can avert any problems that may arise.
Note 1: Just so you know, there are currently no legal actions against me from anyone whose ass I chewed
Note 2: I was called upon to act as ass-chewing witness this morning and broke three of my own rules which prompted me to write this article. (guess which three)
Note 3: I haven’t used the words “ass” and “chewee” so many times in the same article since I wrote that review for Star Wars Porn.
Answers: #1, #5 and Secret rule #9 – Don’t try to inconspicuously play Texas Hold’em on your cell phone during the ass-chewing.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Movies vs. History
Originally posted on 24 Feb 2008
I’ve recently strayed from my usual reading material which has always been science fiction or fantasy mass market paperbacks to nonfiction, more specifically historical nonfiction. Last summer I found out that my great-great grandfather on my mom’s side fought in the Civil War with the 155th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry. That led me to read a locally published book online about the 155th, where I found out they were on Little Round Top during the Battle of Gettysburg. They had mostly a reserve roll, but still, that’s pretty cool and besides, I love that movie and own it on DVD.
I still needed more so I got Gettysburg by Steven W. Sears. Outstanding book, that I recommend to anyone interested in the subject. Very easy to read and written in a narrative/action sort of way that is very exciting (don’t give me any grief about the review, I’m not book critic), especially during the battle sequences, but keeping all the appropriate quotes and citations that a history book should have.
The movie “Gettysburg” is based off the book The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara which is a historical novel that I have not read but I plan to. From what I have read, I think they did a pretty good job with the historical accuracy of the movie version and all in all a movie viewer could get a correct although narrow slice of that significant battle.
Don’t worry; I’m getting to the point…
One of my all-time, absolute favorite cowboy movies is “Tombstone” starring Kurt Russell and Val Kilmer. So, my ever vigilant wife, seeing my shift to nonfiction, gave me Doc Holliday: The Life and Legend by Gary L. Roberts for my birthday. Another outstanding book with the only drawback that I noticed is that Roberts kind of expects you to know a little about Holliday to begin with. At least it is written with that slant.
Well that’s fine by me, I say. I’ve seen “Tombstone” at least a dozen times, but here in lies my problem and the reason I started this rant in the first place. The farther I got in the book the more I noticed that “Tombstone” takes a hell of a lot of liberties with the plot. Where “Gettysburg” is almost entirely fact based, “Tombstone”, apparently in an effort to make the movie more exciting leaves a lot out and what is included is jumbled around in the timeline to make the Earp brothers the clear protagonists and the Cow Boys the clear antagonists.
Hey, it’s just a movie you say. Well, that’s all well and good except a lot of people don’t read and take what they see as true in a movie based off true events. I read somewhere that “Wyatt Earp” staring Kevin Costner was a more accurate portrayal of the events, but it only looks that way because of the way it is filmed. It’s even farther off point. “Tombstone” at least included real scenes like Wyatt pulling John Tyler out of the Oriental by the ear, which actually happened, although not under those circumstances and not at that time. I think “Tombstone” was viewed as the campier movie because it had cool one-liners like the “…you called down the thunder…” line.
Now I’m only including two movies in this little bitch session, but this same thing could go for most if not all movies. When I found out “Fargo” was entirely made up, I felt like I was cheated on.
If it was up to me, which it is certainly not, but it should be, all movies based off true events where the names of the characters are not changed from their real life historical counterparts, should be totally and with out a doubt true to fact. Since I realize this is not completely possible, a rating system should be employed based off the percentage of historical accuracy and should be listed with the MPAA rating. For example:
“Gettysburg” rated PG; 98% True
“Tombstone” rated R; 50% True
“Fire in the Sky” rated PG-13; 0% True; unless you are an uber-nerd in which case 100% True
Let us keep in mind the real victims in all this, the poor high school or college students who are way too busy to study for their history exams, so they just watch the movie.
Won’t somebody think of the children?
I’ve recently strayed from my usual reading material which has always been science fiction or fantasy mass market paperbacks to nonfiction, more specifically historical nonfiction. Last summer I found out that my great-great grandfather on my mom’s side fought in the Civil War with the 155th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry. That led me to read a locally published book online about the 155th, where I found out they were on Little Round Top during the Battle of Gettysburg. They had mostly a reserve roll, but still, that’s pretty cool and besides, I love that movie and own it on DVD.
I still needed more so I got Gettysburg by Steven W. Sears. Outstanding book, that I recommend to anyone interested in the subject. Very easy to read and written in a narrative/action sort of way that is very exciting (don’t give me any grief about the review, I’m not book critic), especially during the battle sequences, but keeping all the appropriate quotes and citations that a history book should have.
The movie “Gettysburg” is based off the book The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara which is a historical novel that I have not read but I plan to. From what I have read, I think they did a pretty good job with the historical accuracy of the movie version and all in all a movie viewer could get a correct although narrow slice of that significant battle.
Don’t worry; I’m getting to the point…
One of my all-time, absolute favorite cowboy movies is “Tombstone” starring Kurt Russell and Val Kilmer. So, my ever vigilant wife, seeing my shift to nonfiction, gave me Doc Holliday: The Life and Legend by Gary L. Roberts for my birthday. Another outstanding book with the only drawback that I noticed is that Roberts kind of expects you to know a little about Holliday to begin with. At least it is written with that slant.
Well that’s fine by me, I say. I’ve seen “Tombstone” at least a dozen times, but here in lies my problem and the reason I started this rant in the first place. The farther I got in the book the more I noticed that “Tombstone” takes a hell of a lot of liberties with the plot. Where “Gettysburg” is almost entirely fact based, “Tombstone”, apparently in an effort to make the movie more exciting leaves a lot out and what is included is jumbled around in the timeline to make the Earp brothers the clear protagonists and the Cow Boys the clear antagonists.
Hey, it’s just a movie you say. Well, that’s all well and good except a lot of people don’t read and take what they see as true in a movie based off true events. I read somewhere that “Wyatt Earp” staring Kevin Costner was a more accurate portrayal of the events, but it only looks that way because of the way it is filmed. It’s even farther off point. “Tombstone” at least included real scenes like Wyatt pulling John Tyler out of the Oriental by the ear, which actually happened, although not under those circumstances and not at that time. I think “Tombstone” was viewed as the campier movie because it had cool one-liners like the “…you called down the thunder…” line.
Now I’m only including two movies in this little bitch session, but this same thing could go for most if not all movies. When I found out “Fargo” was entirely made up, I felt like I was cheated on.
If it was up to me, which it is certainly not, but it should be, all movies based off true events where the names of the characters are not changed from their real life historical counterparts, should be totally and with out a doubt true to fact. Since I realize this is not completely possible, a rating system should be employed based off the percentage of historical accuracy and should be listed with the MPAA rating. For example:
“Gettysburg” rated PG; 98% True
“Tombstone” rated R; 50% True
“Fire in the Sky” rated PG-13; 0% True; unless you are an uber-nerd in which case 100% True
Let us keep in mind the real victims in all this, the poor high school or college students who are way too busy to study for their history exams, so they just watch the movie.
Won’t somebody think of the children?
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Practice Make Perfect
Hi-ho, hi-ho it’s off to war I go.
Not really.
It’s actually only a practice war, but I will be gone all week. So, while I’m off sharpening the point of the spear, you poor bastards are stuck with reruns all week.
I suppose you could be thinking that a good blog writer would have written five new articles to have auto posted all week while he was gone.
Really? You were thinking that? You don’t fucking know me at all do you?
Not really.
It’s actually only a practice war, but I will be gone all week. So, while I’m off sharpening the point of the spear, you poor bastards are stuck with reruns all week.
I suppose you could be thinking that a good blog writer would have written five new articles to have auto posted all week while he was gone.
Really? You were thinking that? You don’t fucking know me at all do you?
Friday, March 6, 2009
Pry Open your Wallets you Cheap Bastards
This chick I kind of know is doing her first triathlon to raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and she won’t quit busting my balls about getting her new sponsors.
For the life of me I can’t figure out why anyone would form a society of leukemia and lymphoma, but hey, to each his own. I was just always under the impression that they were bad. Besides, it’s not like there aren’t worse societies out there.
Anyway, head over to her site and give her some damn money so she’ll leave me the fuck alone.
For the life of me I can’t figure out why anyone would form a society of leukemia and lymphoma, but hey, to each his own. I was just always under the impression that they were bad. Besides, it’s not like there aren’t worse societies out there.
Anyway, head over to her site and give her some damn money so she’ll leave me the fuck alone.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Best Day of my Life…Ever*
OMG! OMG! OMG! You are not going to fucking believe this, but this is the very best day EVER!!
I was feeling a little blue this morning. You know, just down in the dumps because all my investments are in the crapper, so we’re pretty short on funds. Then this morning I found out that I got passed over for promotion…again. So no more money there and at this rate we’ll be lucky to keep the house let alone have any money to send the girl to college.
When out of the blue shines a glowing beacon of hope.
Someone I barely knew in elementary school sent me a digital picture of a Quiet Riot rock pin for my digital denim jacket. How did they know?
Thank you, long lost friend. My life has meaning again.
*Have I mentioned how much I hate fucking Facebook?
I was feeling a little blue this morning. You know, just down in the dumps because all my investments are in the crapper, so we’re pretty short on funds. Then this morning I found out that I got passed over for promotion…again. So no more money there and at this rate we’ll be lucky to keep the house let alone have any money to send the girl to college.
When out of the blue shines a glowing beacon of hope.
Someone I barely knew in elementary school sent me a digital picture of a Quiet Riot rock pin for my digital denim jacket. How did they know?
Thank you, long lost friend. My life has meaning again.
*Have I mentioned how much I hate fucking Facebook?
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Traffic Experiment Part III
So the traffic experiment is not going well. Not one single person hit the site searching to Miley Cyrus. What the hell is this world coming to when a shitty blog writer can’t lure unsuspecting perverts into reading his little comedy shtick under the guise of underage pubes? What the fuck do I have to do to break that impenetrable 50 visitor a day glass ceiling?
Well fret not faithful reader for I have found the answer. It’s over at The Other McCain.
In all honesty I actually got the idea for doing the Miley Cyrus post from Mr. McCain’s million hit article. So I figured I’d give him some love even though I’m pretty sure he’s not going to notice any sort of marked traffic increase when my five faithful readers (and I love you guys) check out his site. Not that he needs the help or anything; the guy gets like thousands of visitors a day.
But I do feel that I need to thank Mr. McCain. He was one of the first big bloggers to blog roll me when I was up the first time and he even left the dead link on his roll for the six months that Bob’s Bar and Grill didn’t actually exist anymore.
Thank you Mr. McCain. Your inattention to detail still gets me half my traffic.
Well fret not faithful reader for I have found the answer. It’s over at The Other McCain.
In all honesty I actually got the idea for doing the Miley Cyrus post from Mr. McCain’s million hit article. So I figured I’d give him some love even though I’m pretty sure he’s not going to notice any sort of marked traffic increase when my five faithful readers (and I love you guys) check out his site. Not that he needs the help or anything; the guy gets like thousands of visitors a day.
But I do feel that I need to thank Mr. McCain. He was one of the first big bloggers to blog roll me when I was up the first time and he even left the dead link on his roll for the six months that Bob’s Bar and Grill didn’t actually exist anymore.
Thank you Mr. McCain. Your inattention to detail still gets me half my traffic.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
That Guy
As some of you already know (Goddamn that Facebook*), The Wife and I went to Atlantic City this past Friday to see a concert at the House of Blues. All in all, it was a pretty good show. I’m not a huge Mudvayne fan, but The Wife really likes them and hey, I’m nothing if I’m not giving. Besides we had a pretty good time before the show started, people watching and pointing out different types of fans. Here’s a few:
Way too Fucked up Guy – Hey, we’ve all been there right? Had a few too many drinks, maybe you should have passed on that last round of Jager bombs, but your buddy wanted to celebrate cause he finally got that under age-looking chick two rows up to flash him so you start to nod off at the show. That’s fine. Way too Fucked up Guy is light-years past that. It would be nicer for everyone involved if Way too Fucked up Guy would just go to sleep, but that ain’t gonna happen any time soon…if ever. Way too Fucked up Guy is spazzing the fuck out all over everyone and it’s going to take a pint of horse tranquilizers to bring him down.
Cuddly Guy – Also known as Paying too much attention to his Girlfriend Guy in some states, Cuddly Guy’s only true fault is that he’s really just trying to get laid. Normally in his late teens, Cuddly Guy is more often than not a fan of the bands playing the show. His girlfriend however is not and only came along because stupid teens do everything together. So she spends the next two hours distracting poor Cuddly Guy with neck kisses and crotch grabs to which he eagerly reciprocates. He eventually leaves the show before the main act, incorrectly assuming he’s going to at least get a hummer in the parking lot. Sorry Cuddly Guy, you should have come alone, picked up a drunken skank that actually likes the music and probably at least gotten a handjob in the seats between bands.
Columbine Guy – Black trench coats (recently leather dusters) have been a metal concert staple since the late 80s. You’re always going to find at least a dozen pimply teens, four matrix escapees, two oily shirtless duster-wearing douchebags and one over-weight, forty year old dungeon master clad in a black trench coat no matter how fucking hot it may be. Columbine Guy is none of these. Sure, Columbine Guy wears a trench coat, but not out of some misguided fashion sense. Hell, it’s not even black. Columbine Guy just stands in the center of the pulsing crowd not even really facing the band and you’re pretty sure he hasn’t twitched a muscle in forty-five minutes. Time to be somewhere else.
White Guy with Dreads Guy – White Guy with Dreads Guy is essentially harmless. I just hate him for some deep-seeded reason. Comb your fucking hair douchebag!!
Dad Guy- Dad Guy comes in two varieties, Responsible Dad Guy and Irresponsible Dad Guy. Responsible Dad Guy usually drove his teenage son or daughter and their friends to the concert because he doesn’t want them driving in the city at night and alone. He stands at the back of the room in his TaylorMade hat and TD Bank windbreaker, sipping his diet Pepsi and politely bobbing his head to the music. Irresponsible Dad Guy, on the other hand, looks like he just rolled off the set of Jerry Springer and had three beers on the ride over. He brought his two orange mohawked eight year olds because, and I quote, “Fuckin Slayer Rulz!!!! Yeah!!!”
Gap Guy – The more “metal” the show, the more Gap Guy stands out. Gap Guy looks like he, well, just walked out of the Gap and usually ends up at a metal concert by one of two different routes. First, one of the sellout headliners has songs on the fucking radio. Metallica shows are currently almost 90% Gap Guys. Secondly, Gap Guy was lured to the concert by the hot bitch with the nose ring and the sleeve tattoo that works at the Dairy Queen on 2nd Ave. Sure Gap Guy just wants to get laid, but there’s no way this could turn into some kind of reverse Cuddly Guy cause Dairy Queen chick would totally kick his ass. There is, however, a really good chance he’ll get a handjob in the seats between bands.
* I’m beginning to hate fucking Facebook.
Way too Fucked up Guy – Hey, we’ve all been there right? Had a few too many drinks, maybe you should have passed on that last round of Jager bombs, but your buddy wanted to celebrate cause he finally got that under age-looking chick two rows up to flash him so you start to nod off at the show. That’s fine. Way too Fucked up Guy is light-years past that. It would be nicer for everyone involved if Way too Fucked up Guy would just go to sleep, but that ain’t gonna happen any time soon…if ever. Way too Fucked up Guy is spazzing the fuck out all over everyone and it’s going to take a pint of horse tranquilizers to bring him down.
Cuddly Guy – Also known as Paying too much attention to his Girlfriend Guy in some states, Cuddly Guy’s only true fault is that he’s really just trying to get laid. Normally in his late teens, Cuddly Guy is more often than not a fan of the bands playing the show. His girlfriend however is not and only came along because stupid teens do everything together. So she spends the next two hours distracting poor Cuddly Guy with neck kisses and crotch grabs to which he eagerly reciprocates. He eventually leaves the show before the main act, incorrectly assuming he’s going to at least get a hummer in the parking lot. Sorry Cuddly Guy, you should have come alone, picked up a drunken skank that actually likes the music and probably at least gotten a handjob in the seats between bands.
Columbine Guy – Black trench coats (recently leather dusters) have been a metal concert staple since the late 80s. You’re always going to find at least a dozen pimply teens, four matrix escapees, two oily shirtless duster-wearing douchebags and one over-weight, forty year old dungeon master clad in a black trench coat no matter how fucking hot it may be. Columbine Guy is none of these. Sure, Columbine Guy wears a trench coat, but not out of some misguided fashion sense. Hell, it’s not even black. Columbine Guy just stands in the center of the pulsing crowd not even really facing the band and you’re pretty sure he hasn’t twitched a muscle in forty-five minutes. Time to be somewhere else.
White Guy with Dreads Guy – White Guy with Dreads Guy is essentially harmless. I just hate him for some deep-seeded reason. Comb your fucking hair douchebag!!
Dad Guy- Dad Guy comes in two varieties, Responsible Dad Guy and Irresponsible Dad Guy. Responsible Dad Guy usually drove his teenage son or daughter and their friends to the concert because he doesn’t want them driving in the city at night and alone. He stands at the back of the room in his TaylorMade hat and TD Bank windbreaker, sipping his diet Pepsi and politely bobbing his head to the music. Irresponsible Dad Guy, on the other hand, looks like he just rolled off the set of Jerry Springer and had three beers on the ride over. He brought his two orange mohawked eight year olds because, and I quote, “Fuckin Slayer Rulz!!!! Yeah!!!”
Gap Guy – The more “metal” the show, the more Gap Guy stands out. Gap Guy looks like he, well, just walked out of the Gap and usually ends up at a metal concert by one of two different routes. First, one of the sellout headliners has songs on the fucking radio. Metallica shows are currently almost 90% Gap Guys. Secondly, Gap Guy was lured to the concert by the hot bitch with the nose ring and the sleeve tattoo that works at the Dairy Queen on 2nd Ave. Sure Gap Guy just wants to get laid, but there’s no way this could turn into some kind of reverse Cuddly Guy cause Dairy Queen chick would totally kick his ass. There is, however, a really good chance he’ll get a handjob in the seats between bands.
* I’m beginning to hate fucking Facebook.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Traffic Experiment – Update
Believe it or not, I have not received one single solitary hit for the keywords mentioned in the previous post. Weird huh?
To make this even weirder, back when I had the blog running the first time, I had a couple posts where I mentioned my new stainless steel grill. Around the same time I wrote a short post called “Behold the Toil of the Mighty Penis”* about how much of a man I was for putting together the patio furniture all by myself.
From then on at least once a day, someone would hit the site searching for “penis on a grill.”
* I know this because I saved all my old posts in Word for posterity.
To make this even weirder, back when I had the blog running the first time, I had a couple posts where I mentioned my new stainless steel grill. Around the same time I wrote a short post called “Behold the Toil of the Mighty Penis”* about how much of a man I was for putting together the patio furniture all by myself.
From then on at least once a day, someone would hit the site searching for “penis on a grill.”
* I know this because I saved all my old posts in Word for posterity.
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