Fuck You Norton Security Fuck You and the Trojan Horse You Rode In On

Hey guys.  Haven’t written in awhile.  Been busy saving the world from alcoholism.  One beer at a time.  The fight goes well.  Thanks for asking.   Well, now I’m housesitting at good old mum and dad’s while they’re over in Italy probably eating a pizza.  And so I’m on my mum’s computer and I say to myself: self, you had a blog going for awhile, why dont you check on it you lazy sonuvabitch.   So I type in the sweetest URL this side of fantastic and Norton “I eat my own shit” Security blocks the page and says it has “questionable content.”  What the fuck is that?  Has Norton become a critic of modern culture? And this blog is full of culture, don’t laugh.   I hope this means they block other bullshit sites like, I don’t know, FOX news and CNN and marthastewart.com.  I can’t yell bullshit enough.  Bullshit ad infinitum.  So what I’m saying, if I had to place my point in a nut shell, or distill it to its indivisible essence, that is, for you string-theorists, in a dimension all to itself, I would say, my point is FUCK YOU BALD-HEADED IMMASCULATE MAN NAMED NORTON

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PHISH LYRICS of song playing at the opening credits in my Movie

Character Zero

Buy a Girl a Bike . COM

Readers–check this shit out.  Pretty funny.  www.BuyaGirlaBike.com

She’s just asking for a quarter.  So don’t be the cheap pricks I know you to be.

Make Christmas come early for this young lady.  It’s clearly a good cause.

Lester Throws No-No

I watched it.  Which makes me almost as cool as the guy who threw it.  Go Sox.  Go Boston.  Ra Ra fucking Ra.  By the way, sorry readers about that post the other week about no one reading.   I am either happy or slightly disturbed that there are now over a hundred visits to this blog every day.  Maybe I should start advertising?  Jesus loves capitalism, why shouldn’t I?

The TRUTH Prevails

Paul “The Truth” Pierce tossed up over 40 on the scoreboard tonight and made Lebron “Big Baby” James fly back to Cleveland and wallow in despair. Cleveland is the right place for it (despair). And is it me or are basketball players getting more like pansy soccer players everyday with their ridiculous shows of being fake hurt on plays? Honestly, there’s nothing funnier than watching a big man go down like a sac of potatoes on the smallest amount of contact and crying about it for like five fucking minutes. I swear to god I should be put on someone’s team just to be the enforcer. I’ll give these fuckers something to cry about. And for cheap money. Hanson brothers-style.

Celtics Suck Away From Home

But they are great at home.  Home for them is Boston.  I was born in Boston.  Ergo, Boston is the single greatest place in the world.  It makes me wonder why we don’t have two sects of people fighting over the bank of the River Charles.  Probably because everyone else not from Boston is too stupid to recognize its greatness.  Also, did I mention we are the greatest?  And don’t give me that bullshit about “oh well you guys can’t drink after 2 am.”  We do drink well after 2am, but we drink so good and start so early, 2 am is like 9 am for the rest of you lightweights and we’re tanked so we have to finish killing our livers at home.  Sirosis.  Now I’ll drink to that.

Who’s with me?

It’s about time we bring back an oldie but goodie–women are good for two things.  And voting isn’t one of them.  Cooking is.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY…

…to all of the anonymous women out there who I have made mothers.

Ever wonder why there are so many Murphys in the world?  There are Murphys out there that don’t even know their Murphys.  Think about it.  You could be a Murphy.  How could you really know?

Marlboro Cigarettes Sent Me a Birthday Present

The classy pair of silver-gilded dice that Marlboro Co. sent almost convinced me to buy a carton of reds and smoke myself silly.  It certainly beats the root canal I got a few years back…thanks mum.

What? I Leave for a Week and now I Have No Readers?

Just because Jesus was nailed to the cross his disciples didn’t just leave him and say, hey, things were good up until that ‘whole you getting nailed to the cross thing’ i’m outta here.  No.  They kept repeating his words and his story over and over again and made models of him, hung him up on the wall, and fought over some other guys’ words saying Jesus wasn’t no son of God, and all this, and fought over his birthplace, and fought over the last sacrificial lamb,  and said hey, we fucking praise Jesus, and if you don’t, you’re going to some hot place with no fucking windows, ya heard?  And then the South mounted his sayings up on giant billboards and a billion fucking people died because they loved a Jesus their fathers told them about and what’s more, they got it second-hand too, which is why I’m still dumbfounded my readers haven’t spread my word.   Your souls are at stake here.  Mmm.  Steak.   I digress.   Point is, I’m back–resurrected if you will–and even Jesus needs a vacation.

First order of business:  Grandma Tucker on the spare wheel cover.  Enjoy.