Sunday, December 25, 2005

Merry Christmas


I don't open gifts Christmas morning. I lift weights. Now for an egg nog protein shake...no not really. Maybe a beer...

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Wanted Dead or Alive



The assholes pictured above are all serving time for creating computer viruses. One of them got seven years...I don't think that's nearly long enough. You see my laptop got a virus through E-mail and it was created by some jackass like those pictured above. It cost me a couple hundred bucks to get rid of the virus and I want compensated but I don't want money. What I want is ten minutes alone in a basement with one of these fuckers. It will be my own personal fight club and I will kick the living shit out of the mother fucker. You like to create computer viruses? I'll ask. BAM! Broken jaw. You like fucking destroying the writing that took me hours and hours to complete? BAM! You didn't need that clavicle anyway. See how your shoulder droops now? Feel me digging my fist into your deltoid? Hurts doesn't it? Good. Now go off to jail and I hope to God you get raped like a child molester you pathetic piece of shit...

Seriously though, what is the mindset of these people? I seriously doubt they really have a concept of the damage they do to certain people. Yeah, yeah, they're getting back at the man or maybe they were picked on in grade school. Get over it. Quit being a piece of shit scum. Anyone can destroy or be deceitful or evil it's not really that hard to do. Evil mastermind my ass. What's hard is doing the right thing. What's hard is building up and helping others. Here let me help you remove those teeth. (Imagine the sound of my steel toed boot shattering your teeth) Thank you. THis has been a rant by Kerouaced.

Friday, December 16, 2005

Excerpt from Seinfeld episode The Wink

WAITER: Ready?

HOLLY: I'll have the porterhouse medium rare, baked potato with sour cream,

JERRY: What do you recommend besides the steak?

WAITER: The lamb chops are good.

JERRY: Anything lighter? How do you prepare the chicken?

WAITER: It's a full bird. Stuffed with ham, topped with gorganzola.

JERRY: You know what? I think I'll just have the salad.

WAITER: . . . Thank you.

JERRY: (mind's voice) Just a salad? Just a salad? Just a salad?

..................

I just saw that episode again the other night and the line about "It's a full bird" killed me. I had to post it.

Dear Kerouaced: real questions from real people

Dear Kerouaced:

Can you provide a rational explanation for why everyone gets selective driving amnesia when it starts raining? It appears to be a universal thing, everyone just freaks out when it starts to rain. Or snow or sleet, for that matter. How is the water content of the air correlated to memory? I don't get it.

Signed Road Rage

Dear Road Rage,

Was it Freud who said, “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar?” Yeah, don’t over think this one too much. It’s obvious to me that you’re giving too much credence to the concept of humans being civilized. We are for the most part savage animals and though some can rise above the basic cravings, egocentric mind sets and primitive fears etched into the walls of our DNA most are destined to live solely in the pleasure centers of the brain. In other words when these people see precipitation of any sort it brings the animal out in them, they want to avoid any discomfort and want pleasure ie avoidance of pain. They aren’t intelligent enough to proceed calmly but subconsciously are thinking of all the evils associated with snow or rain, such as being caught in the Andes Mountains like the rugby team in the movie Alive. Irrational? Yes, but try telling that to a 300 pound soccer mother going 65 miles an hour down the highway during a blizzard in a minivan. She thinks solely of herself and her brood and getting them out of the blizzard though she is risking the lives of many others with her erratic driving. My suggestion would be to drive defensively. Block the assholes that try to pass you on the brim of the road when traffic is backed up and keep several car lengths between you and other cars whenever possible. If you have an old pickup truck I would kindly bump into people that aren’t paying attention to the traffic laws. I hope this was helpful and be safe.

Kerouaced

Thursday, December 15, 2005

George Bush Quote of the day

(Found on T-Nation)

"I think we are welcomed, but it was not a peaceful welcome." President Bush to MSNBC reporter Brian Williams, after Williams asked about Vice President Cheney's pre-war assertion that the U.S. would be greeted as liberators.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Dear Kerouaced: real questions from real people

My answers might not always be popular but they will be true. So if you’re afraid of the truth then don’t ask. Live with your head in the sand. See if I fucking care…

Dear Ker,

Why is it that my husband has to buy ONE present at Christmas, but I have to buy all 198 others?

Signed,

Santa’s abused helper

Dear Santa’s Abused Helper,

Obviously your husband is a lazy jerk off and doesn’t appreciate the many long hours you put in making his home nice and comfy while simultaneously working and doing ALL the Christmas shopping. (Gee I gleaned a lot from the one sentence question didn’t I?) What I would do to get back at him is quite simple. For his mother, father, sister’s brothers, etc. I would buy the shittiest gifts possible. For example, for his mother I would give her an orange hunting hat and matching vest. For his father I would go to the Dollar Store and buy him a set of Hansel and Gretel salt shakers. For his sister I would buy a bra as big as a hammock, yes, even though she is only a B-cup. I think you get the point here. What you want to do is buy the most awful gifts possible so that your husband is embarrassed beyond belief. Next year he’ll be begging you to let him go shopping. I think this should solve your problem.

Kerouaced

Dear Kerouaced: real questions from real people

My answers might not always be popular but they will be true. So if you’re afraid of the truth then don’t ask. Live with your head in the sand. See if I fucking care…


One of my readers wanted to get personal so I’ll answer her questions but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Dear Kerouaced,

1. Besides watching Steelers games what is there to do in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania?


Absolutely nothing unless the Mountaineers are playing. Quite honestly there is precious little to do in Harrisburg when the Steelers aren’t botching up their chances at making the playoffs (I hate to love them). This is why I whittle dining room sets, self induce comas by breathing in excessive amounts of ether and test the effects of large quantities of beer on the CNS

2. If another Bush [e.g. Jeb] becomes President, should I move to Canada or some part of Asia? Any other alternative?

If that happens I’m planning a big Kool-Aid party and you’re invited. Seriously though Canada is too close and Asia has that weird bird flu thing going on. No, your only real option is to build a bunker, line it with cans of Guinness and only come back up when the Bush’s have finished destroying what is left of civilization. And no there aren’t any other alternatives.

3. When’s your next trip to California? :P

I’ve sworn off the Golden Bear state or whatever the Hell you people call that mass of land teetering precariously on the St. Andreas Fault line. The last time I was there I was force fed wine and beer and ended up puking all over some fancy hotel room. I escaped the next morning wearing nothing but a pair of Polo boxer briefs as the Mexican maid chased me down the hallway…okay, maybe I’m exaggerating. I’ll be back before you guys drop off into the ocean. Of course naked pictures of all my female admirers would hasten my return.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Dear Kerouaced: real questions from real people

My answers might not always be popular but they will be true. So if you’re afraid of the truth then don’t ask. Live with your head in the sand. See if I fucking care…

Dear Kerouaced:
Can you explain the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle in layman's terms?
-evilchemistwannabe

Dear EvilChemistWannabe,

I suppose I could explain this to you but even in layman’s terms you’re probably too dumb to understand it. Why don’t you stick to cooking meth? If you blow yourself up it will just be one less trailer to clean up after the next hurricane.

Dear Kerouaced:
People all suck. What gives?
signed,
- joe misanthropist

Dear Joe Misanthropist,

You silly fucking bastard. It’s about time you peaked out from under your mother’s skirt. How long did it take you to figure out that most people are irredeemable scum? I’ve heard of a slow learning curve but this realization is on the same timetable as continental drift. What realization will hit you next? That water is wet? Moron


Dear Kerouaced:
What’s the most effective way to end an obnoxious nearby cell phone conversation?
-sprint-ing for the door

Dear Sprint-ing for the door,

Other than pepper spray? What you want to do is make them as uncomfortable as possible. Since they think everyone will be interested in what they have to say join in the conversation. For example if a man is talking on his cell phone and says, “He lost 67 pounds,” then you walk up to him so your face is six inches from his and yell, “Wow, he must have been a real pig if he had that much to lose.” I think you get the idea. Keep it up until they put their phone away or leave the area.



Dear Kerouaced:
Is it supposed to be this itchy? Damn!
-no more tequila for me

Dear No More Tequila,

There’s nothing I hate more than a slut that blames her promiscuity on alcohol. The truth of the matter is that good old Mr. Tequila gave you an excuse to kick you legs up in the air like some sort of carnival freak. Now that you’re itching like a Rockette wearing fiberglass underwear you want to ask if it’s normal. Well, Hell yes it’s normal if you’ve got some sort of STD! Go rub yourself down with garlic and head straightaway to a doctor. Leave the Tequila to the professionals like me…



Dear Kerouaced:
Do these jeans make my butt look good?
-like, totally, oh my god.

Dear Oh My God,

Here’s a clue, if you have to ask me if your ass looks good in a pair of jeans then I’m sure it doesn’t look good. Let me guess does your ass in those jeans look like two pillow cases stuffed with lima beans? Yeah, I thought so. Women with nice asses know they have nice asses and don’t need to go fishing for compliments. If I were you I’d hike up Mount Everest with a treadmill on your back. That’s the only way you’re going to work that bubba butt off and look good in jeans…

Goodbye shitty FM radio...










I just rigged up my new satelite radio. No more listening to DJ's who are as funny as jungle rot. no more listening to the SAME music over and over again. No more mind numbing commercials. Would I pay for something like that? Hell yes. Meet my new Sirius S50. Goodbye shitty FM radio I never liked you anyway. Does this thing cook toast? I'd better consult my manual...

Monday, December 12, 2005

Feeling restless...

Did you ever have one of those days when you feel restless? When you’re uncomfortable just under the skin? When the next idiotic remark could end someone up with a mouth full of enamel formerly known as teeth? When you’re so far removed that you can’t remember why anymore? When you know going back is not an option but to lunge forward leading with your forehead and smacking up against whatever beast steps into your path is all that is left? And that this will be the impetus for the final battle for which you are ultimately geared? You don’t know what I’m talking about? Good, go back to your milkshake. I was just about to go mad…

Sunday, December 11, 2005

I've got walls

Can you miracle me up another day like yesterday? Yes, more amontillado this time would very nice…and uhm could you please do something about the hangover? Yes? You’re an angel. I’m also going to need four new walls. Yes; industrial strength, bullet proof, castle tall. No, I’m sorry no one gets in. No, I’m sorry no one gets out alive. Yes, that’s me in the corner with the bricks and mortar. Yes, that’s me behind another wall. No, I’ll never get out. Yes, you can have my baseball card collection…

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Buffalo Spit

They run the muffled buffalo dance on a plain of razor blade grass, carving themselves up roast beef style, slice by agonizing slice into your delicatessen dreams. Men in white aprons scoop up the massacre, wrap it in waxen paper, overprice it with grease pencils and sell it to an unwitting and soon to be mad as cows public. You watch this from the distance sitting behind the button and a bag of heavily salted and lard cooked chips and no they are not buffalo chips. It occurs to you that the world was a better place when everything slithered and spit and that now they talk too and this is more than you can bear. You place one index finger on the button and the other you point accusingly at the massacre bellow and then you push and no one even remembers your name…

Sunday, December 04, 2005

Damn the networks...



















WVU finished up their season last night with a win over South Florida which left them with a 10-1 record. I think that’s their best record since I went there and they were 11-0 in the regular season. That kind of winning is understandable because I was in school then and had a special alter with all kinds of voodoo stuff on it; deer antlers, pickle juice from the last jar of pickles Elvis ate out of, Jerry West's old college jockstrap, three of Marlon Brando's kidney stones, and…wait I’m giving away my trade secrets. All you need to know is I worked special magic for them and they won big. Okay, maybe it wasn’t all due to the magic I practiced but they did win then and they were on TV! Unlike yesterday when F-ing ESPN showed the Connecticut vs. Louisville game instead of WVU. WTF? I’m boycotting all television today because no one showed this game. Won’t you join me? We can chat online or something…wait, I forgot, the Steelers are on at 1:00. Maybe we can boycott another day. The Steelers need to beat the Bengals for the first place spot. They haven’t been playing well but I have my alter set up in my basement and just doused it with a coffee mug full of beagle blood. I won’t make any predictions because when I do and I’m wrong some people think they’re funny by telling me I was wrong. So, I’m just going to be quiet and dance naked around my alter. Care to join me? Women only. Sorry, that just wouldn’t be fun with guys. Go Steelers…

Friday, December 02, 2005











One can only make so many pot holders until the bunker walls start closing in and before I locked myself in my bunker yesterday scientists believed the threshold for such activity was somewhere around 45 days. Well, I’m going to tell those idiots right now that a person’s mental capacities give out much sooner that than the estimated 45 days. This morning I found myself buried in pot holders and empty Guinness cans and by that time, roughly 6 AM, I knew that I wouldn’t last another five minutes staring at the cinder block walls of my own personal bunker. So, I punched the code into the keypad of my bunker door and moments later it opened. I have to say I was relieved to see that the world wasn’t a charred nuclear mess but at the same time I was disappointed to think that George W. was still in charge of the country. What I did see when I opened the door though was Cindy Lou and she was wearing a thick layer of tanning accelerant and some sort of hula skirt and coconut bra. “Yeah, I get it,” I said, “It’s warmer where you live. Do you need to rub it in?”

“No, but I need you to rub some tanning accelerant on my back,” she said.

“Right,” I said but just as I went to take the tanning accelerant from her hand I noticed a terrible screeching sound.

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s your alarm,” Cindy Lou said.

“Damn, this was just getting good,” I said.

“Good-bye,” she said.

I opened my eyes and awoke in my bunker on a bed of potholders, the smell of tanning accelerant on my hands…

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Where is everyone?


Where is everyone today? Did the big bomb go off and nestled in my bunker making pot holders I didn't notice the ground shake? Great. If that's the case and you're all gone then I have no reason to go outside. Why risk the radiation burning a blow hole in my forehead? Luckily I have a bed frame I made out of canned tuna down here and the walls are lined with nearly 27,000 cans of Guinness (yes for just a day such as this). Or course it will be lonely down here without anyone to drink with but I will manage. It will hurt me to hear you screaming outside when you come round trying to get into my bunker but please understand there is only enough beer for one. Oh no, I just thought of something. Does anyone have a can opener? Damn. How long can a person survive on Guinness? I guess I'll find out...