Mumble To My Neighbor

New Years Resolutions

2011-12-31T01:17:00.003-05:00

The only time I don't mean what I say is when I say I don't mean it.

Bad Rabbits are the Princes of the Purple Reins

2011-10-05T22:00:00.000-04:00

HORSES UNITE! I love when bands now sound like shit that was good when I feel old. This shit sounds like Purple Rain Era Prince but it's current. Dudes used to be the backing band every once in awhile for Slick Rick.

Listen to the studio version on headphones and wait for the end. Might make the Isley Bros. jealous.

Download it from their website.

For free. BAD RABBITS! COME TO NYC!

Cause Your Dead

2011-10-02T00:48:00.004-04:00

LETTER TO A FRIEND

2011-10-01T03:48:00.003-04:00

We have known each other for a while. From the moment I met you I thought that you were comfortable at being you. I observed you like I was a child watching a carousel. Well, a drunk child. I was sitting in a stroller, sucking on a bottle of whiskey with milk and honey. The lights were shining. The wind was blowing breezily and smiles were on the faces of even those that were losing. The adults were laughing and the children inside the souls that went round and round always rose to the top. Only when the music stopped. This was my first chapter memory of you.

I always knew that you have not been this way forever but I chose not to delve deeper into your psyche. The feeling was good and the teat tasted neat. I sucked and swallowed and got fat on forgetting.

I did this because I did not want to see the disappearance of Superman Moriarty to the kryptonite that Super Sal Paradise’s comeuppance would provide. I didn’t want to see you without the costume of the superhero that you packaged yourself as. I was going through the evolution to the slow learning acceptance of moth to flame to burnt moth and learning to work between worlds that were real and those that were fake. I was going upstream at full tilt and did not want to lose the destruction of fear that you provided me.

That cocoon was warm as a kitten’s litter. I snuggled down deep and came out dirty and stinking but a little bit softer just the same.

My role as an observationalist and as your adviser has taken many turns. None of which I will go into for fear of being perceived as an unprofessional adviser. That, by itself, would be against the oath I silently took to zealously advocate a wayward , fairweather client and friend.

This statement will be anonymous. This blog is. No names will be mentioned. All parties involved will be able to see what they want. They can read and draw the pictures to illustrate the story on the walls of the living rooms of their minds. Over these words songs can play as loud as they want and no one will be forced to clean up these messes. This is a story, my friend. A factual story. Facts can’t be rewritten.

This turn of our friendship will be one that probably involves many right turns that feels like we are coming back to the same place. You probably won’t like it. I urge you to understand that I was not the navigator, but only the observationist. At the end of the bullshit of this tale as I see it I assure you that we are moving forward, but like Sancho watching Quixote, a master or a muse cannot truly see his direction until he sees that there are no more windmills.

I guess the story starts on a dreary day in a bar that has seen so many dreary, shitty days. Our glasses get dirty. Our memories get dirty. Our sleeves get dirty but our thoughts get clean. We hope for the best but our bar tab dies like the rest. We search for past places we have conquered but I end up slumped over taking the A train back to Brooklyn criss-crossing my feet to the music of the last song we left on wishing five years ago could have lasted forever but so glad that it lasted as long as it did.

Cut to a few casual moments later and hell happens. Life is going as good as living a half way lie can be and couples dinner is attached. Thunder rolls. Lightning strikes. You know what happens. If not, your girlfriend might.

Again with the cliché, but there is nothing else as powerful and poignant to describe it as nature itself, the shit came before the storm. It had been along while since I had to deal with a problem that was not my own and seeing as I did not deal with my problems I was caught without the emotional poncho that a man who was watching his Moriarity superhero let his protective plastic fly away in the wind. The cape didn’t flutter but was ripped away violently. Wind whistled through your teeth and I just thought that it would at least serve as shelter if not for a blanket to keep me warm. You bared down on me and asked for the impossible. Like I was a savior. Like I was gonna do something for you. Like I had ever done anything at all except for get you out of a bar tab. I was dumbstruck. Dumfounded. Dumbfucked. I made promises that I knew that I could keep. But you weren’t Super Moriarity anymore. You were appealing to me as a super minority. A philosophical detox of binging on percocets and promises unkept for lotto tickets unscratched that were cashed in. That you were the benefit of. You were grasping at the straws held by those that I hoped you thought would come through in a pinch and I failed to pinch you to tell you that you weren’t dreaming. I’m sorry for this.

You take photos much like I write. You see darkness. But you also see a story. A photo with a lens-cap-covered camera would result in nothing. So you look for light. You traipse back and forth. Adjust and bitch and complain because the subject of the photo gives you nothing to be optimistic about. But when you get it, the broken shard of light that shines down on a glass of triumph and a face of guilt gives hope to me. That one more can get that person from that negative to being back home again.

The only way I know how to do this is the only way you will probably not ever expect, a sports analogy:

“It’s nighttime here in philly, this has been a whirlwind of a series. Two, tough as nails teams that have been struggling to come from behind just to get on top again. Back and forth as the seesaw goes for sure. Here we are, runner on second, final inning. Crowd at a non stop standtill. At bat is the notorious brawler and scrapper Urdowitz. The Polish power, as he is known here in Bronx stadium. Down by one run and after being struck by an alleged errant pitch in the 4th he arrives to the plate with one tooth less than started, folks. After a medical examination he was deemed ready to play after an inning and it is rumored that along with the medical gauze to absorb the blood, he is still chewing tobacco folks! It is said to kill the mouth pain but judging by the looks of his eyes and his slow swagger to the plate he is feeling none. So I guess it is working.

He stops before stepping in the box and gives a look to the umpire and a longer slow look to the catcher. They are both unphased folks. Every single party is steel. The pitcher waits patiently for the triangle of people involved. Urdowitz slaps the bat against each heel and gazes into the outfield…his glance is tightening…tightening…on the right field foul base line!

The jumbotron has picked him up! It is the same Tigers fan that had recently thrown the beer bottle at him while rounding first base! The reason he lost his tooth! How is he still in the stadium, folks?

Urdowitz is raising his bat! Oh my goodness! In the measure of the great Babe Ruth but mimicking the drama of the Natural he is pointing at the…No, he is not folks! He is pointing at the fan! The Taker of the Tooth!

The crowd is going wild! He steps into the box with a foot and reaches down grabbing dirt…he wrestles with something and buries his hands deep in the sand…claps them together…has words with the umpire AND NOW IS HAVING WORDS WITH THE CATCHER!

He brings his other foot into the box and grips the bat accordingly. I don’t know what is happening faster here folks…”

At this time Urdowitz stared at the pitcher. He thought about his right foot that fucking hurt. He thought about that fucking cocksucker in the rightfield that got those seats cause he knew someone. He hoped it was the goddamned catcher. He thought about bowling and how much better that would be then he just thought about fucking leaving.

But then he thought about winning, then fucking leaving.

He made the signal for ready to go, crowded the plate, leaned his right shoulder in, spat at the pitcher and growled.

He backed off the ball as soon as the asshole went into his windup.

He intentionally swung a little late to get a line drive from a fast ball that was meant to clip him and sent it screaming right inside the first baseline against Ramiero’s charging feet. It hit the inside of the bag and shot up in the air and the taunting fan fell backwards to avoid a bullet that he thought was for him. Urdowitz had never had such accuracy but he knew this one was his.
The ball ricocheted and left the right fielder deeper than expected and seeing as Rameiro charged that spot was empty. The ball in all its bouncing glory went into the foot of a ballboy who in trying to keep his job jumped and sent it in yet another direction.

Urdowitz never planned on stopping. He was almost at third when they finally got a handle on it to send to the third baseline for the rundown. The man on second base had scored without even sliding.

The Yankees fans almost did the rest.

While Urdowitz was cleaning the clock for the fastest time an oldtimer had ever rounded the bases, the fans were giving the heckler the once over. He was drunk as a monkey’s uncle and no one except everyone except for Urdowitz saw him being pushed over the rails for fucking with their man.

At this point our hero was running for his livelihood. I’ll tell you that the previous injury had caused his nose to bleed which was mixing with the sweat from his brow and the snot from his nose and looked as if his own nose-coffee was bubbling. It was quite a sight for any photographer. These are the images in the mind of anyone watching but there were those who weren’t.

There was the asshole behind the plate in expensive seats who spilt his drink down the bosses fake-titted wife’s white shirt when he pointed at the jerkoff in the stands as he fell onto the field.

More importantly, there was the entire third base line watching the asshole collapse when they were supposed to be involved in the fucking game AND the catcher who ended up receiving the lob late cause the third baseman bobbled the throw instead of the bullet available to prepare for Urdowitz’s epically metallic train-crash.

Our anti-hero did as his father told him. The catcher caught it up high, pulled it down with the right glove preparing to embrace and he gave it to him with full fucking force.

There are few people who say they know how to take a punch. Anyone that takes them, doesn’t like it.

You spend your life hoping you never have to be the fucking liar that has to say that.

Urdowitz never did.

He buried his head and threw his right shoulder into the catchers left. Not before he slowly pulled his fists into a ball and struck the catcher's Adam's Apple. Urdowitz violently shifted his left hand open-faced and down stumbling like into the catcher’s left wrist hoping to knock the ball from the glove. As he did, he splayed his left leg out and veered to the right bringing the knee into the groin of the jock-strapped catcher while throwing his body to the left and actually collapsing onto the plate sliding forward while both players and the umpire fell silent.

The catcher rose first with glove tight and the black and white shook himself and stood and grabbed his hand like a victorious boxer as Urdowitz rose from the rumble. Again, blood was dripping from his mouth. The cotton swab had fallen by the wayside and the umpire shook loose nothing from the catcher’s mitt.

The ball was seen first by the wayward titty looking fan next to the fence who created an earthquake rumble that made oppenents fans. This incident again drew the attention of the boss away from the cleavage shot the invited employee most certainly enjoyed and she screamed and jumped making mountainous moments of short term sugar lumps on his single scoop of unemployed ice cream.

Urdowitz heard screams and then headaches and then pounding. His winning teammates bumrushed him without his knowledge. He was still semiconscious. He fell apart with energy and then rolled and stumbled to the Gatorade jug and pulled himself forward. He fell backwards, relieved to be not a failure but more so not to be a vomiter. Then he vomited. Blud.

Then other stuff. The stadium was going mad but then again so was he. He was also missing something.

He trudged back with a vindicated soldiers remittance and kicked teammates and pushed new champion t-shirts till he got to the bottom of things. The camera had focused on him. The game winning homerun of the seventh game of the World Series deserved the homeplate. He had wife and children at home and the end of a career to think of, after all. He was gonna hold that piece of rubber up like it was his. Like the constitution of a fallen country that America finally took back. ‘Cept...

He found what he was looking for while the camera forgot him for something happier as he ambled toward the dugout to finally rest. He was front-toothless and dug-out. But those teeth that he lost in that car crash of a win were fucking poison. They were gone. So was his career. He was missing his teeth but he was clean again. He knew he was right where he needed to be. He was whole again even though he was missing pieces (teeths) when he approached the plate to retrieve the metal in the shape of the cross he left when he was digging in the dirt earlierr at the plate. He told that cock-sucking umpire and the goddamn catcher that he was gonna come back and get it a few minutes come hell or high water.

And goddamned if he didn't. All the while leaving his teeth and the catcher's lying bloody in the sand.

And my man, that is the beginning of our story that gives people a place to begin your timeline. And the end for us to enjoy. Good night.

Juggaloves

2011-09-27T15:37:00.000-04:00

American Juggalo from Sean Dunne on Vimeo.

Here's some love for the Juggaloves. What are these, you say? Caring creatures that share the likeness of clowns. But love all. Ass long ass they look like clowns. Go Juggalo ves!

Life Lessons By Mumbles

2011-08-13T03:19:00.001-04:00

If you want a happy ending, stop your story before it's over.

ILLFORGOTTEN GLANCES AT MEMORIES LET GO

2011-08-08T20:47:00.000-04:00

I learned that it was not food, nor love, nor acceptance I hungered for...but something more. I looked again at my words to find it, but everyone seemed afraid of what i would do with it and all the books were removed from my room. Yet me, my hunger and misunderstanding stayed locked behind those walls remembering the sunlight and her smiles and that time we walked together along the train tracks to see a man I would later call God.

Bread : Part 2,The Story of Abel

2011-07-28T22:42:00.001-04:00

Abel was always a wiry fellow. His hands hung low and brushed the pockets of our older brother Hosea’s hand-me-down jeans so much that when they got to me, I could only use the back pockets to keep my possessions safe from stealing. They were worn like our parents faces.

Abel was born with a hooked left foot that didn’t give him a propensity for sports. But because he wasn’t any good on the farm or the field, it gave him a bunch of free time on his hands that resulted in an education for me. I was closest in age in the younger sense and was more gullible than our big brother, so I was an easy pupil and mark just the same.

We were all ornery as all get out. We threw, ran and squirmed like nobody’s business. All of us were naturals for football and the taller ones great at basketball. If it involved one ball and a single purpose that included physical contact, we were dirty in it smelling like the sweat of summer. We were what they called children reveling in sweat of the brow while others were rich kids bathed in water that was chlorine and pristine.

After Abel's first breath in '68, it was the last time daddy allowed momma to write a name down on a birth certificate or even consciously choose to create one via the state. My brother name was misspelled as Abel, but I was the one that was capable. Our momma had dyslexia and she named me after him or wrote down what she wanted to write down for him in the first place. His future begat his idea of his congenital physical condition. His failure at birth justified his unwillingness to succeed later in life. He wasn’t able. Hooked foot said so. When I was born my father was going to get his brood right where the Bible got it wrong. If Abel was so capable then he could’ve handled Cain. I was named in his version of the spelling and my life started so.

Abel in his boredom took to throwing rocks and breaking shit in the general sense of the work. I remember this one time where we sat out front of this abandoned trailer in a park down the road that was full of trailers that weren’t full and he must of chunked at least 20 through the aluminum siding and windows and even bounced one off the tires that damn near took both our eyes out before someone started shooting us with a bb gun. That hooked foot could really get going when it wanted to.

One day he was kneading this clay he’d stolen from school into all types of inappropriate shapes. Once it was a dick, another times a set of balls and others a vagina and any combination left to be imagined. He got bored easily; so when we went by the Hatcher house and the mutt started yapping his mind started turning. What once made a perfectly good set of clay dick and balls became a totally different avenue of entertainment. Abel became able. It didn’t take long for him to talk me into climbing the horse stalls to land in the back yard of the Hatcher’s passageway. As soon as my feet hit the dirt I was already on the fence again as he laughed and laughed while the dog was on me like the dirt on my elbows. I reached up and caught my breath and Abel handed me the clay. He’d stolen a few firecrackers from the rich folks in the trailer next door and fashioned a makeshift explosive. Most of his ideas didn’t work. He was good with a lawnmower but shitty at this type of thing. He must’ve spent more money than I had ever seen on firecrackers tearing them apart and putting them back together so they would be better than they were. For this reason he’d lost a thumb early on.

He tried to hand it to me, clay in palm, sticking his clenched fist through the bars while my hands laid sweat on the rusty poles. I smelled the iron and rust that always made me think of blood. He missed my grasp, maybe on purpose, but I tried again. I picked my hand up above my head while he fished it through and gripped it with similar fingers fitting into the grooves of the indentations that turned it from stolen property to the trailer park grenade.

I wasn’t old enough to buy a lighter yet but Abel always had one. Fires were his friends. He’d lost a thumb but never a singe of hair to a fire. He burned our trash and started our fires. Oftentimes he pissed himself while he did it. He lit the fuse as I tried to get the claytraption into the dogs mouth. The dog didn’t want to take it cause the fuse was smoking. It didn’t take me long to see that it wasn’t going to happen and Abel saw the same cause the asshole started laughing hysterically…again.

I forgot about the dog-menace and flipped over to scale the rusty bars when I started to yell but lost my breath as he was doubled over in fucking fits. I let out a scream in sheer frustration of him being an idiot and another in the heat that was developing in my spine. My shirt was on fire and my hands were heating up and the dog was going fucking crazy.

I fell to the ground as the mutt scratched, pawed and barked. The fire subsided but I was pretty badly burnt. I rolled underneath the bottom rung and ran as fast as I could hoping that I was still on fire and jumped my flames all on top of him. He kept laughing and I kept burning and that was the end of that. I itched and rubbed butter on the burns to make them go away for the rest of the summer. He was throwing rocks and I smelled liked grease.

Because I couldn’t move and he wasn’t worth a shit we had very little to do except clean up around the house while mother slept. There was a girl next door that was a year older than me but one less than Abel. I knew she was up to no good cause she talked too much. Always this and that. I got a herd of bees, she’s got two. We were gonna get to ride the neighbors go-kart, her daddy was gonna buy her one. She was a Mexican anyway.

Hosea had done some stuff with her but Abel was sure he would too. So one day we went over to her house and he turned her water hose on full blast. Before you knew it there was a puddle under her porch bigger than the Grand Canyon. She wouldn’t have even noticed had it not have been for the generator outside charging to work the air compressor for her old man’s tires. He was sleeping like momma but she came bouncing out nonetheless. She traipsed through the screen door letting it slam ever so gently making sure she didn’t wake him. She sucked on the freezer pop like she was so goddamn rich even though they never had any fucking cherry ones even though the flavors were random. We knew her father ate them all but she asked a simple question. Probably the most direct thing I ever remembered as a boy. She said,

“you boys ready to get wet?”

My brother’s feet splashed to turn off the hose to see if he was hearing what he thought he was feeling.

The slosh of water and the twisting of the iron made a weird noise for me seeing as I was only hearing the back and forth of air and tongues and lips on a shitty lollipop. She wouldn’t shut up and after she said that and he cut the water, he wouldn’t stop talking.

He talked about go-karts and moons and better doublewides that his friends knew about and a place where you could just runaway and she just kept on looking. Her toes got skinnier as she removed her shoes and socks and her feet ventured to the water. She kicked it around and giggled and he did as well.

He asked her if she wanted to see that bee’s nest or maybe it was a hornets nest under the trailer and that we had one but she had two of. Seeing as she had more and knew more, she might be able to tell us how to get rid of them.

He told her if she’d come he’d show her that and a bottle of liquor that looked like water. He said if you put a peppermint in it the smell would be like a dirty cigarette and her folks wouldn’t know she’d been drinking. He said, “You might as well come swimming over here if you wanna get wet.”

She obliged and came down.

Now, hand in hand, a naked set of tiptoes went with my brother’s. His feet were mudsoaked and bounced toward the place where the bees were supposed to be.

As soon as we got out of earshot, he showed her what he wanted her to see.

With this he presented a lighter and lingered too long on the flame before he brought out daddy’s cigarette. He was captivated by the maintenance of fire and she was intent on smoking what he had lifted from daddy. When she reached for the cigarette he thought she was going for the flame and he ducked like daddy taught him to and kicked her really hard in the dick. Cept’ she didn’t have no dick.

She fell down and didn’t move.

Abel told me that if we stirred up the bees enough they would bite her and we wouldn’t get in trouble. He said that if he went on top of the porch and held onto the railing and moved his hips back and forth and I pushed Sola toward the wooden 4 X4 it would be easier to make it look like an accident. Shit didn’t work.

We took out a garden hose from the back of her trailer and Abel started spraying the hive. They went nuts. Water and bees and honey don’t mix. She just laid there. I ran all over the place. I had acne scars later and was supremely fucked up. We hid behind a tree to see what would happen. Nothing did.

The bees ran off and we had a can of silver rust-o-leum in hand and were spray-painting her shoes. Abel was pushing down her shorts to make an arrow when her father came out.
Her father beat the shit out him. He had his face in the dirt and there wasn’t anything that hooked left foot could do, I tell you. Both mothers were sleeping but her father was going to town on my brother.

Sola hadn’t moved when my father rolled up covered in El Camino and roofing tar. The first thing he saw was Abel in the dirt and the second thing was a broken handrail on the porch of the trailer.

Last he saw was Sola’s pappy and shit got heavy. I was young, but I wasn’t dumb. They screamed back and forth and got buckwild like mountaingoats. I really think my dad drug his head across every beam on that porch. Both kids laid in the ruins as they duked it out. I watched cause I couldn’t look away. I wandered if I was as fascinated with ass-whoopings as Abel was with fire. I hoped not and then remembered how much I hated getting my ass whooped and thought of it as a done deal.

The police finally showed up but my father had already left. Her dad and my dad had sparred and he won. Mine I mean. We had one lawn mower, she had two. She had a doublewide, we had a single. My dad kicked the shit out of her dad cause she had two mothers and I had none. Her dad got all the moms. I just wanted to ride the fuckin’ motorcycle.

BREAD

2011-07-09T16:59:00.004-04:00

When I was a kid I had some really ratty pants. They scuffed the ground when I walked and I tucked them in my shoes so they wouldn’t make noise. The shuffling of my footsteps was not music to my parent’s ears but only a reminder of the burden that I laid on them.

We were a ragtag group of hoodlums, my brothers. We each had our role. I didn’t fit in so much but I made sure we had bread on our table. That was my role. I was fast as lightning. When I struck Pritchard’s Grocery, they knew I was there to steal bread. They would see me and everyone, woman and child, would run to grab me and sometimes I'd run down the aisle with the boxed goods or head for the can items to mix it up. I strummed my fingers against the shit like a harpist on strings that were old. My intentions were good but the sonic results didn’t match. I wanted the grocery item to land like cannonballs but most landed in soulless oceans. My brothers waited outside to kick the trash can or newspaper cart over in front of the door as Pritchard became good at sweating and old ladies pressed their hands against their heart and made noises that could heal a rainforest. I always jumped the trash can and headed for the field where we would meet.

I always thought sooner or later Pritchard would figure out our operandi. At first I thought he allowed it cause he knew we were poor. There were eight of us for christsakes. I knew my brothers started using the commotion I caused to steal from the registers while he was running after me. They would only get about 30 bucks a pop but Pritchard didn’t say anything. My brothers were probably taking their own share, but I was too. Cause they screwed me, this time, I was going to get a loaf for myself.

Being knee deep in not giving a shit, my mother usually drank away the day. Her job as a homemaker allowed her to forget her civic responsibilities of darning the socks and relegated her day to half-heartedly washing her dishes that weren’t supposed to smell of vodka. Her efforts tired quickly and she forgot about the shopping as pops forgot about the working and we were soon, all 10 of us, on fucking welfare.

She neglected the sewing kit so I appropriated it.

I sequestered some yarn and while Hosea (the oldest) wasn’t looking I tied it around my ankle before entering Pritchard’s.

I ran in like the lightning I told you about before and hit the bread rack with the immediate sound of thunder. I grabbed one and shoved it in my pants. Metal racks clattered and plastic bags burst. I pictured a cloud of flour in my tracks leaving the wolves behind and stuck my sweaty arm inside of the air-conditioning that was the dairy section.

Plastic jugs scrambled from my passing embrace and scattered on the ground acting like mercury, running every which way but contained. People slipped and slided and cottage cheese covered my hands and shirt sleeves as I ran homeward leaving a modern day chemical experiment in my wake. I ditched and dived like a pig slathered in butter (also in my pants) and gave a nice hip bump to a display of tuna that was shaped like the sarcophagus I deserved after fucking up Hosea’s existence.

Hosea, being the oldest, told us what to do. He always told me to go for the packaged white bread, not the fresh shit. I didn’t know it was because he knew what the baker did to it. I didn’t know it was because it was the best way to distract. I didn’t know a lot of things about Hosea. I didn’t know until this very moment but I just suspected he liked it cause he was used to it. Shit, if I had a choice I probably would have chosen white bread, but I don’t know what got into me that day. If it was just a wild hair up my ass or the overarching adrenaline that I felt as I ran to that fancy rack as soon as I got in…I had never done it before, but whatever it was, I fucked up and I fucked up good. I grabbed the second loaf on the way out and I think Abel kicked over a shopping cart and I leapt over it like a young nine year old should. My feet did tiny dancesteps between cracks on lost mother’s backs as my open palms felt the wind that her face cancelled all steps of dance and I ran to the secret spot.

They went in to pillage the cash registers cause everyone there did as they were told. Old ladies screamed and fell down. The boys shuffled their feet back and forth and up and down like elfin devils, giggling in the aftermath of faked terror. The women clutched their purses instead of their babies and my brothers stole their wallets. The victims didn't see the pictures of our names that may or may not hang in xeroxed sketches in post offices or grocery store check cashing stands but only in the empty photographs in school yearbooks. And just the same, they never saw us at all.

I cradled the loaf of free bread like an NFL fullback that had too many hits to the head. My finger was on the tip but somewhere I stumbled and it went sailing. I picked it up quickly but through the running and all the fucking melee I was leaving a trail of flour from the bread in my leg and the loaf I had in my hands for me until I found our meet-up spot. Nine-year old mistake. Lifetime of punishment.

Our spot wasn’t that far away from the grocery store. We always met there and Hosea divided up the profits but there wasn’t ever much that went my way even though I did most of the running. That’s why I thought of the yarn from Mama’s sewing kit and stuffing that other loaf down my pant’s leg. I could keep that one there and only share the other. They didn’t usually get there til half an hour after me. By that time I could have the butter slathered on and eat like a goddamn prisoner in a fancy jail.

I hit the grass at full tilt. I stopped then stumbled dragging my shoe through the dirt to let them know I was there.

I went under a large branch and stuck my hand in a batch of thorns and fell, dropping the bread. The loaf down there softened the blow. But as I landed, I heard the breaking of plastic and fell about 20 feet deep onto overgrown greenery and hit something sharp and solid bouncing me onto something softer. Corrugated pieces of plastic greenhouse splintered and landed on me like an epidural. I moved back and forth and then gave up to an exhausting paralysis.

I give you my word that the first thing I thought about was getting my ass whooped for losing the bread and instinctively looked for it. I couldn’t find it. It was probably up there. My leg hurt like hell but I rolled off the table that I saw to be steel or aluminum. It was clean but it was overrun by weeds.

I reached in my pocket and fished out what was left of the butter. My cigarettes were ruined. I stuck my hand down deep in my leg that was now a backpack and took out the loaf.
I put the butter in the middle and ate that shit like a goddamn sandwich and loved every bit of it. After I was done I was thirsty as hell and knew Hosea would know so I started sucking saliva and phlegm from the back of my throat to get the dryness down.

Time passed and they didn’t show. I got scared and guilty and still had the butter smeared on my face and Hosea wasn’t there. I didn’t know at the time of the robbery, but Abel had different plans for our eldest and when he left the scene of the crime, Abel kicked the shopping cart into his feet sending him careening into the newspaper stand that we usually left errant. Hosea went face first and a few bills went running. Those dollar bills became airplanes in a second. They congregated in the alley where I hopped the fence.

Abel hit the alley first and grabbed as much as he could before going over the fence and my brothers pursued the green that was chasing his pockets and footsteps. My biggest mistake which I would later learn to be my greatest hope of being found was now destroyed by prying fingers and shuffling hand-me-down shoes. The brother and Abel’s escape covered every track that was dusted with the flour of evidence of my location that would lead the police or even my fucking family to our fucking spot. A white powder was now meshed with dirt. All of this over a loaf of goddamn bread.

Hosea went to jail. Abel disappeared. The others languished.

I sat there in that fuckin’ hole surrounded by what looked like an underground marijuana garden. I was surrounded by greenery that most would consider Eden. It smelled of sweetness. I would have smoked myself to the neverafter but I didn’t have a lighter, only buttery smokes. I was nine.

I died down there eating leaves in hopes of killing pain but just kept vomiting them up. Mr. Pritchard now owns our house but doesn’t even have the grocery store. The room I slept in is now a game room.

Fucked up isn’t it?

EQUINEBRIATED

2011-07-06T21:10:00.000-04:00

If you were a candy wrapper

that made a bunch of noise

that i could get to open up

by being so sweet

this message

would self destruct

so the new me

could be the old me.

NEW MOUSETRAPS FOR DUDES WITH REALLY LONG BALLS

2011-06-21T20:38:00.003-04:00

"This ain't my first rodeo, but it ain't my last bull fight, neither."

if i don't quote it, that means i wrote it. - mumbles

well, at least part of it.

Legerdemain

2011-06-12T02:48:00.008-04:00

New York Post : Taurus (April 21-May 21) Horoscope June 12, 2011

"You won't be able to please certain people this weekend so don't waste your time trying. If anything you should go to the other extreme and make a point of offering them nothing -- then they will realize how much they need you."

Jesus doesn’t believe in handcuffs,
And God doesn’t believe in keys.

But we were trapped in an unsealeable envelope,
That had a suicide note.
Addressed to me.

ROBBED2

2011-06-04T01:07:00.003-04:00

When I was little girl I stepped into a bodega to buy myself a packet of Swedish fish. I was enamored by the lights and temperature of the air conditioned song of the refrigerator that kept the beer o’ so cold. Others were enraptured by the cash register that kept the money from that and the lottery o’ so warm.

As I stood there with hands and face against the window I listened to nothing except the hemming and hawing of the fan blowing behind those cold glassine walls. Skin stuck and quietly popped as I shockingly, secretly, pulled it away.

The woman that came in for a stamp asked for it and as it was delivered she reached in her bag to deliver payment. The robbers pulled out the gun and shot four times. She fell to the ground as I turned around. Even though I was a child I ran into the way of harm. I buried myself into her armpit and begged her to be okay. They hurdled over the counter and left into the daylight that was free of water that my fish would swim in. Next to her body laid a quaking stamp and her American 25 cent piece. The letter deserved its own narrative but would not get it and it poked out of her pocket like a baby kangaroo from a pouch.

I took both and marched off.

I kept the stamp, letter and candies in my pocket as I went home. Sirens blared and lovers fought. I saw a car stop to avoid hitting a sparrow but smashed him anyway. The couple in that car fought as well. Love was a precarious thing and whether you knew it intimately or not, you were hard pressed for fucking murdering it, regardless of whether they said you didn’t do it.

My mother had been hell bent on doing the same to herself that she did to me. Essentially, she was intent on murdering us. I’d found her on the Hattiesburg Bridge a number of times, drunk like Elvis, leveraging herself over the causeway and begging for Jesus to take her home. I didn’t read that letter. I posted it and dumped the contents of her bottle of booze from her pocket into the river that led my village to the world. Inside, I put it in a tiny lock box and let it find its place in the sea in hopes that it would find a proper destination. A destination where it would end up that I was sure would be a better place than me now. When the receiver received it, I knew they would appreciate its simple message.

I never read it, but I knew it said something like “If my love was measured in currents then it would be strong enough to take this message to someone who deserves it. And I’m sure you do. So whoever you are I love you and am sure the person who brought you to this does as well.”

Most stories end with “the end” but I’m going to finish this with nothing.

The letter was sealed so I could not open it. I remember the girl as being beautiful but have no newspaper to prove it.

The fact that you found it, where ever you are, is proof enough.

GHETTO NINJA

2010-10-25T22:49:00.000-04:00

This dude is just straight Gangsta! I would love to see the Ghetto Ninja pair off against The Real Dwight Schrute! Battle to the death. FINISH HIM! Click through for the video, trust me, it's worth it!

via Reddit

The Real Dwight Schrute

2010-10-15T17:05:00.000-04:00

Believe in Yourself

2010-10-07T18:31:00.000-04:00

VIA Reddit

Cee-Lo Brings It Down Home Again

2010-08-22T21:46:00.002-04:00

What's the best way to say "fuck you" to a girl that you loved? Cee-lo Green Style. Def the jam of the late summer.

Drew Landry: Cajun Heartbreaker

2010-07-13T17:45:00.002-04:00

Drew Landry, crawfisher turned oil field worker, steals the show the first Town Hall meeting of the Presidential Oil Commission. In the song he pleads about just wanting a job and how hard it is to make a living. Well Drew, I don't t'ink you need to worry 'bout dat no mo!

VIA Gawker

UPDATED: Well it turns out he's more of a musician than he is a crawfisher/oil rig worker. This doesn't make him any less of a songwriter/singer for a cause, but it does make the story a little less genuine when it seems he might have been using the platform to actually get himself a record deal and not JUST for the people of the Gulf Coast. I'm still gonna check out his music though. The song i'm listening to right now is about the WWF and the chorus is about the Junk Yard Dog, so it can't be all that bad. The Dirty Cajuns

The Side Door At Beacon Restaurant : Pop-Up Intro Menu

2010-06-28T19:03:00.011-04:00

Saw this yesterday around lunch time and was highly intrigued. I hung around long enough and she gave a me a five dollar coupon. That left me with a bill of 5 bucks for a high quality lunch. Chips (Wise All Natural Potato Chips), Soda (Sprite or Coke) and Tax Included! Click through for menu, photos and all the other scrumptious details.

This is the Beacon at Night. The Side Door @ the Beacon is pretty self explanatory to me, but in case you need further explanation it's actually to the right side of the door. Oh and it's really only half a door which kind of looks like a window.

This is what they actually look like...but they taste much better than they look. The hotdog was stellar, two all beef dogs crammed into a po-boy roll. The sweet relish was the perfect balance of sweet and sour. I didn't taste the parmesan though. Although, I didn't really give much time to savor the flavors cause it was so damn good I ate the thing it almost one fell swoop.

Don't get me wrong, the burger was great too. I had heard there were probablems with not letting the patty wrest and you ended up with a bun that was covered in blood. Not so today. It was all in all delicious and a steal for even $10 dollars in Midtown.

CLICK MENU BELOW TO ENLARGE.

UPDATED:

Went back again today. Note to self. Don't show up at the supposed "opening time" of 11:30. Didn't open til 12pm. I guess the dogs had been sitting in the heater since the half. Buns were rock hard. I don't mind eating withe a knif and a fork, but come on. Still will go back next week though. 12:30 seems the most opportune time. Or call. The numbers on the menu above. I still can't figure what's all in the relish, though. Answers in the comments would be appreciated. (chips and pickle and keyboard in picture below do not come with...)

SAY YOU GOT A CASE OF THE HIVS

2010-05-18T14:46:00.006-04:00

Satan as imagined by the creator of The California Raisins.

This is the from the movie The Adventures of Mark Twain (1986). It is a claymation version that surrounds the characters from his writings and general life musings from the author. In a particular stirring clip (after the jump)we see the children meeting Satan who goes on to explain his meaning of...well...life. I guess. Pretty scary stuff seeing as the age of the viewer was probably 5 - 8 years old.

Yeah, well. I'm fucked up. This video is a bag of coke thrown to Lindsey Lohan in after party. I know this video is old but someone threw a bag of coke to me at a Lohan afterparty. It was large and in charge. So, I'm still dealing with it. I found the full movie here, but I keep forgetting to link to it. Sorry for being so disconnected, but I am SOOO disconnectected. I'm sure that is a proper use of a comma but a horrible use of spelling. so eat a dik wit aids.

Bollywood's Chiranjeevi Would Kick Chuck Norris's Ass

2010-05-09T22:35:00.001-04:00

Warning: Many horses and extras were violently injured in the making of this awesome chase scene.

Ask an American what the best chase scene in cinematic history and they say bullshit like Bullit! Or The Man With Golden Gun! If they are a badass they'll say, Smokey and the Bandit. Ask any Indian (dots, not arrows...) or anyone thats a true movie expert and they will tell you it's Alluda Majaka starring India's version of Bruce Lee, Chuck Norris, Stallone and Schwarzenegger and Jean Claude Van Damme all rolled into one. Chiranjeevi! I mean, just look at this dude!

This a doctor smoking a cigarette with a gun who can kick Chuck Norris's ass.

Click thru for the most badass chase scene you will ever see. As well as a TRACTOR FIGHT. That is all.

PopTen

Tyra Banks is Batshit Crazy

2010-05-05T23:34:00.000-04:00

I have always hated this woman but now I have a reason.

Cigarettes

2010-05-01T05:30:00.004-04:00

I used to know this girl. I'd go to her place to have a beer, the toilet and whatnot. She'd meet me down at the front after the respective phone call with a match. A match so exhausted I could smell her skin singe.

She never, ever, flinched though.

It was routine. I'd puff my cigarette twice and sit alone on the worn out couch. Worn down by pain, love and cigarette sin. I'd puff it twice more and take one long draw off the half filled glass of stale beer and we'd silence and watch the Earth move. No words, no emotion, just listen and watch.

We watched mostly through this picture frame that hung shantily on the living room wall. The futon that faced us relaxed eagerly suggesting the obvious but she and I weren't interested. The smoke filled the room and the picture changed moods letting the voices on the other side dictate the degree of aggression that was illustrated by it.

Cigarettes and empty ashtrays later we would awake from that moment we waited for. That shattering separation from reality that only that picture frame could give us.

KETCHUP

2010-04-24T21:45:00.017-04:00

On Sunday morning, post Easter, Jesus had been resurrected from the dead. I was non- plussed. Not being a catholic and drinking myself into a coma on a weekly basis, I didn’t think anything of it. Instead, I bathed in the darkness of my bathroom, slowly washing away the cave of pain that surrounded my life. After partially drying myself off with a dirty towel, I dressed in random articles of clothing I found between the bath and the bed. I stumbled down the stairs to hear the vibrancy that was Bed Stuy. Bill Withers blared. Actually, that’s wrong. He can never blare, cause he can never be too loud. He reverberated. He shook the halls and the mailboxes so that bills fell from their respective places and people forgot their debts and over-arching problems. I traipsed on.

Squinting my eyes I avoided the locals and wished I would have bought a pair of shades. They are seasonal in my lifestyle. Like fans, space heaters and ramen noodles, they all come at a typical time of the month or year.

I walked into the restaurant I go to now that I don’t go to the other one and yelled out my order in Spanish and stared at the table. Still wishing I had the glasses. On it were three things. Salt, pepper, and fucking ketchup. I moved in a way that made the table shift and the ketchup bottle fell sideways. It was resting on its top. It was Heinz. The first thing I read was “only the best tomatoes for the best ketchup” and realized that this was how I was going to get her back.

I had lost my confidence years ago through a series of poor choices and accidental mistakes and had an idea. I often did. Unfortunately most were forgotten due to the loss of memory that excessive drinking often causes. I would make sure that the best tomatoes for my best ketchup would be her tomatoes. And, like Heinz, if there is any quality control, my ketchup, and therefore, her tomatoes, would be mine.

In order to do so, it would be a slow process. I’m sure mister Heinz didn’t come up with his commercially viable recipe overnight. It would take time. So in order not to rush things I decided I would think of her as muse and do one simple thing a day. Write one word.

And so i set forth to reconnect with the woman i hoped to be my muse. The sweat that came from the trying follows.

Click thru for the bullshit...

The first would be the word “hope”

Hope sounded like dope. What did that mean. I guess it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t sound like anything either.

It felt like everything, though. It felt like a birthday party. It felt like being washed ashore. It felt like coming clean from lies that kept you washed in filth.

The second word would be “despair”

It sounded like the last grains of the hourglass falling onto the ones before it.
Like the people singing the last words of happy birthday as you entered the room from coming from the bathroom.

The third word was “faith”

It was the place to you would find to spread your ashes so no one had to clean up after you anymore.

The fourth word was “jealousy”

This is the party that I wasn’t invited to where you were invited to and I hoped I could talk to you.

The fifth word is “solitude”

These are the evenings that I spend talking to myself so that I will know what to say to keep you from leaving me next time the morning comes.

The sixth word is “desire”

The emptiness I feel on a daily basis because my hunger strike is not for a noble cause, but one of selfishness. Unlike Tibet, I don’t want freedom, I only want to be chained to you.

The seventh word is “regret”

Because instead of saying I love you, I only said I’m sorry.

The eighth word is “promise”

Because I don’t have to say it if we are together forever.

The ninth word is “love”

Don’t forget that the heart not only pumps blood out, it sucks it in. Without the two actions, death is inevitable.

The tenth word is “alone”

A man that cannot enjoy his own company can’t truly enjoy the company of others. But without the company of others, his enjoyment of his company cannot be shared.

The eleventh word is “broke”

This has to be not having a quarter to call and say I love you.

The twelfth word is “walking”

Because I would do so like hazel motes with glass in my shoes to get to you.

The thirteenth word is “absolution”

All of my hopes and dreams will be washed away when you will be here in my dying days. Choking and coughing, love and my blood, never tasted so sweet.

The fourteenth word is “ran”

Past tense because it happened. Going forward because it was what I need to get to our future.

The fifteenth is “law”

As morally obligating as ‘til death do us part’ might seem, it is still not binding. However, being apart til death kills me every day.

The sixteenth is “fidelity”

Our life has had a series of rainchecks. How many days will it have to rain before I can cash them all?

The seventeenth is “child”

If I am lucky it will be a girl and it will be as beautiful as you. If I am not, it will be a boy and not be as smart as me.

The eighteenth word is "explosion"

It gets larger as the day that gets longer still only gets longer.

The nineteenth word is "TEXAS"

Cause the meaning of YES in Texas is worth more than the meaning of NO anywhere else.

The twentieth word is "replace"

Because 6 figures will never replace the 7 letters that I will miss every day.

the twentieth word is naked

because when i am seemly i am covered in ashes and hope to be surrounded by the molten lava that is you.

More to come.

I'M HUNGRY!

2010-04-08T22:27:00.000-04:00

The Ross Sisters singing bizarrely about potato salad and a bunch of other weird shit.

Juggalost

2010-04-07T22:52:00.000-04:00

Wow. Mind Blown. Juggagenius. Watch and understand. Juggalos on Bill O'Reilly. "WTF, I'm sitting here with a painted face?"

Garden-Hose

2010-04-02T02:11:00.001-04:00

I was in a Volvo leaving something that I should have stayed for. I had a guitar and a set of knives that served as forks with sharp edges. They were called knorks. You could cut ravioli and tomatoes but they were advertised as something that could cut meat.

Qvc could not help this. This was my product. I tried to sell it and failed.

I pulled the car into a slow town in Louisiana in hopes of finding an easy take on the knorks. I found nothing but rain and a church. I found solitude with a water spout that was surrounded by a garden hose. I missed my family very much. It had been days since I had bathed in cleanliness and hope. I stopped there and stepped out and washed myself naked in the rain in hopes of being whole again. I was. The parking lot was empty in the back of the church, however, the gutters were full with free water. I was clean and resting in the backseat of the car that was full of beer cans, beef jerky packages and stolen hotel shampoo bottles. These, I used under the gutter to wash myself to sleep. It was like my own shower. I went back in the car after the nature bath. I fell asleep like coma patients waking up. Click through for more, it's worth it.

The sun came and started shining in my mirror. My radio had died and light was in my eyes. I stumbled across the street to a diner I had never been to with a handful of door to door items I hoped to trade for breakfast to no avail. I had them in my pocket. I ordered pancakes and solitude and left the waitress alone. This didn’t work because when the food came I was lost. I had seen this person before next to a swimming pool at a motel in Arizona. I was sure of it. She told me quick and clean that I was getting a ticket and towed. This was strange cause I had never been here before in my goddamn fucking life. It didn’t stop then.

My wallet and my clothes and my gun was in that in that car. I needed everything. She gave me access to nothing. I knew that what was happening was not an accident. The thing that I had been escaping from had finally caught up to me here in New Orleans. There were no more Mardi Gras or churches or green garden hoses or weather reports that could save me. I was good.

I traipsed back to that church and Volvo and thanked the rain. If I tipped my head back I would drown like poultry. I didn’t. I went into the back of the car and looked for an umbrella in order to maintain my dignity.

I broke a hole in the church window and went inside. I went into the bathroom and found the toilet paper and wrapped it around the handle. 3 or 5 times. Strung it to the door. Pissed all over it and closed the door and brought it to the top of the broken window.

Then ran like hell.

I ran down the street through an alley over an overpass through a bathroom to another window that I climbed in hoping I would get away. But again, I found myself back to that car in the church parking lot,later. It had my gun, my clothes and it was the place where it rained when I arrived. It was where all the answers were reconciled during a later date.

The roof of the church was nice. The garden hose could be a rope (or a noose). The church served as a venue. I fell into the past but stepped into the future. Delusion wasn't a nightmare but a dream of the same sort:

I went to the back and climbed up the set of steps with Eve's green shackles wrapped around my neck. And as I did, I stepped gingerly up the iron necklaces that kept me bound to the excuses that were you.

I knew that I wasn’t going to make it in that town. I knew I was going to fail. I had too many things in my pockets to sell to so many people that did not want to buy them. I gave up and…

I fell down those steps before I charged up them. I ran before I lost it. When I did, I swam up those steps and life to make sure that I went forward. Face forward. Into a pool without water. Into a pool without hope. Into a parking lot with a garden hose, drowned by the greenness of the rain that came from Jesus himself. I hung myself faster than I started to tie the knot.

Fill in the Blank: Marmaduke = Dog _ _ _ _

2010-03-29T21:36:00.000-04:00

Owen Wilson! Keifer Sutherland! Fergie! All in one movie! My Dreams have come true! Oh wait...it's about dogs? No...they are dogs? No...they are the voices of dogs? Oh, then this movie must be dogshit. Seriously, this must be one step of the 12 in dealing with addiction cause i see no reason why this pill popper/alcoholic/meth whore (respectively) would ever sign on to do a movie like this. I mean, come on, if George Lopez is invited to the party going to the party should not be an option. A drive by, yes, devoting a few months of your life in voice over work is a definite no.I would rather get mouth raped with a crowbar than sit through this piece of shit. But uh...do me a favor and watch the trailer while nodding in agreement.

Hard Ticket to Hawaii Online

2010-03-28T13:22:00.001-04:00

Wow, this movie is awesome. A piece of cinematic genius that makes Die Hard look like a home movie. IMDB summarizes the movie as follows:

Two drug enforcement agents are killed on a private Hawaiian island. Donna and Taryn, two operatives for The Agency, accidentally intercept a delivery of diamonds intended for drug lord Seth Romero, who takes exception and tries to get them back. Soon other Agency operatives get involved, and a full-scale fight to the finish ensues, complicated here and there by an escaped snake made deadly by Toxic Waste!

If they wanted to be more accurate they should have said:

Two big breasted Playboy Playmates (Dona Speir,March 1984 & Hope Marie Carlton July 1985) hang with 2 badasses, one of which whose name is "Rowdy Abilene" who track down bad guy druglords, actions scenes have razor bladed frisbees and crack dialogue such as, "If brains were bird crap, your cage would be clean."

They ingeniously reshow ALL the nude scenes (of which there are plenty) during the credits. That's the way to keep'em in their seats. The DVD even has easter eggs or hidden footage (of fifteen seconds of naked chicks) that the normal viewer wouldn't know about. (This is just for serioous pervs but to access go to Main Menu, highlight Bonus Features and press right.) The director Andy Sidaris is very loyal to the girl/gun genre. This is one of his first films so he has yet to perfect the art of...well, directing. To get an idea of how awesomely bad the character/action scenes are in this movie watch the clip after the jump. And I even found a copy you can watch online so you don't have to witness the embarrassment that comes with the snobbish video clerk silently judging you behind his zits and glasses. I'm telling you, I haven't witnessed anything this bad since my elementary school rendition of Little Donkey in the third grade. Enjoy.

Watch Hard Ticket to Hawaii online streaming, HERE.

Other mumbletomyneighbor movie reviews, go HERE.

SurvivingTheWorld.net

2010-03-26T17:02:00.003-04:00

Found a pretty cool blog thats great for one click boredom and a chuckle. That is all. Have a good weekend.

Survivingtheworld.net

From Reddit.

How to Make It In America - Dopest Ass Theme Song on TV (Aloe Blacc, Good Things)

2010-03-24T16:36:00.004-04:00

There have been quite a few good shows that have started up recently. I really like White Collar, Justified, Human Target and now, How To Make It In America. Especially since Margarita Levieva has joined the cast. She's really hot. In case you don;'t know anything about the show I would say its produced by Mark Wahlberg and is similar to Entourage in the sense that it is about a group of young friends coming upon the age of success. Oh, and it's sat in New York not in the horrible Los Ang-e-les. Oh and it has the dopest theme song I've heard in a long time. Video up above. Click through for more on Margarita. Also, you know what Marky Mark was doing before producing TV shows and making big hollywood movies? He was making hilarious workout videos. Thats after the jump too. Enjoy.

Now this scares the shit out of me. They are yelling and screaming at the beautiful woman. If they started tazing her I would think she was a heifer at an auction

To check out the hilarious workout video, go HERE.

Make A Shoot to Win Arcade Game From Trash

2010-03-09T20:20:00.000-05:00

This is not supposed to be your girlfriend.

A friend of mine at work got this little mini hoops thing that was not being put to use, so seeing as I have no social life and ample loads of duck tape and loads of love for the only Canadian worth his salt (MacGyver) I decided to figure out how to turn it into one of my favorite childhood games. Shoot To Win. You know, the thing at Chucky Cheese where you have to make the basket but never could, cause you were smaller than everyone else and rolled off your fingers like a little pansy? Well, at least it did for me.

Fear no more.

Now you can make your own after the instructional provided after the jump. And you can place it as close as you want! No more far away shots that you'll never make. no worries about tickets you can't buy beer with. It serves to build your confidence and everything.
All you need is a mini hoop, some ducktape and some drunken ingenuity. It works quite well and I am a MacGyver genius. Especially after you see the video after the jump as proof. Just kidding I am not quite well. But you'll be surprised at the result.

So it starts off by getting your mini hoop. Get that affixed it to a chair. Any chair that you used to have that no one will be using because no one uses any chairs in your house except your recliner that you sleep, shave and watch TV in. Oh, and it has to be wood. Guess they call them dinner chairs? Table chairs cause they are around a table? Whatever, I don't use them anymore. I forget. Better if it's wood and has slats, you'll need this to create the wire hanger guides which will descend towards the bottom so the ball comes back to you after you miss constantly. (So you don't ever have to leave your recliner to pick it up.) This is key.

Wrap the hanger so they create a guide at an approximate 45 degree descension to rest your netting on. (Comes later.) Make it tight, also important.

Find something stiff, a piece of cardboard or something that will have a slight bend with time. Bend it 2/3 rds of the ways. Duck tape this to the front. This will provide the descent in which it falls back to you. This is important, too. (If it is a long shot you desire, make it stiff and only slightly bent. This will cause for a longer roll. If not, God help you. you are shooting buckets two feet from your ashtray.)

Now, for your net (not the one around the rim, mini hoop should come with this) that will serve as the catch and the chute to put it in the same direction of your poison of choice. When the ball falls, it should fall right next to your vice so you can pick the ball up and if you make it or depending on how bad your aim is, (this is the point of having Shootin Hoops in your house) treat yourself to your vice or console yourself in your defeat. You make the rules, (REWARD OR PUNISHMENT), I just break them.

In order to make it I used a rubber rug stop from IKEA that I had two of. I draped it around the wire hanger descending ever so slightly so it was taught at the beginning but drooped towards the middle...much like many of the intimate moments of my life which is weird now that I think of it. The link is above above but if you don't have the $1.99 I'm sure you have a bloody sheet or a trashbag that will achieve the same affect.

Affix the net to the top of the chair close the backboard. Make sure it's close to the top so it creates a ridge around the wire guides. It's hard to explain. Just see the video. No special effects. Try and make a better one and put it in the comments, I have an amazing one to beat yours. I dare you. Don't expect much from that statement cause I'm sure that there as many reading this as there were who followed Winter Olympics Curling, but I like to build myself up before I let myself down.

Peace.

apologies from yesterday

2010-03-06T03:45:00.003-05:00

SOMETIMES YOU CAN KEEP SAYING SORRY BUT SOMETIMES YOU KEEP SAYING NO.

Envelopes of Warmth

2010-03-06T02:18:00.004-05:00

I've spent

five days wasting

In the moment between heat

And all the hope

that will keep us warm...
____
I have died inside

When everything that's strong inside

is warm...
________

but I give you an envelope

that is absolutely full of hope

and soft and warm.
_________

you're--life

bleak ... and soft to me

will be ... the storm ....

_______

but I give you an envelope

that is always full of hope

and soft and warm

________

you are the best thing

that I have ever seen,

circles and their crosses have came to you

but I have given you Jesus and his hope for me.
____

I wait for you.

i wait for you.

i will,

forever,

wait for you.

i love you. my love. forever.

Roast Beef and Mashed Potatoes and Gravy

2010-03-05T20:57:00.006-05:00

Christopher Wool, If You, 1992

I did not write any of this. I reappropriated some of the words to fit a more lifelong lesson that many could use, including myself. (The reappropriations are the words in parentheses) For the full unedited article please look at Cube of M. A blog I've never read but will start. I only give you the interesting deets in the beginning. It has a very interesting Paulo Coehlo feel to it for fans of The Alchemist. For fans of the rest of his work, well, I'm sorry. It's all the same.

Click through for the meat of the non-Disney introspective-philosophically important tale. I know those two words together sound redundant but when you get introspectively philosophical you'll see that they aren't.

In 2004 I was in Brazil, walking down the hill in Lapa to get some lunch. I was with a friend who I had met in the hostel I was staying - his name was Ofer. We were having a discussion about intelligence, and what role it plays in success.

Then out of the side of the road stepped a man. He was holding a knife in one hand and a bottle in the other hand. He spoke to us in fast portugese, clearly asking us to hand over the things we held. I stood there, not very sure what to do. Ofer started speaking quickly to the man, telling the man not to rob us.

What you have to know about Ofer is that he had been an Israeli soldier. He hated violence of any form, but he knew how to be violent.

The man threw the bottle on the floor and it broke into pieces, he picked up the bottle and lunged at us. I ran a short distance off, and Ofer stood there and dodged the man, all the while talking to him. The man attacked several times, and each time Ofer just moved aside.

Then finally, Ofer kicked the weapons out of the guys hands, punched him, and he fell. He then told me to run, and we ran down the hill to the restaurant.

We sat there and he continued what we had spoken about. He said: That demonstrates what I mean. The man with the knife did not know how to use that knife. If he had been as trained in knife fighting as I was in hand combat, he would have been able to destroy me. But he had a tool that he felt gave him an advantage, but it's nothing compared to a person who has no tool, but has worked to develop what he has.

Again, this is from Cube of M not from me.

Intelligence is like a knife. If you are intelligent, you are at a clear advantage against people who are not intelligent. But if you are intelligent, and another person is not as intelligent, but the other person is willing to train harder than you, the other person will very quickly overtake you in ability.

How your intelligence will destroy you

People who are born intelligent start off life with everything easy for them. They don't have to work hard to get good grades, they never really have to do much to get ahead. The major challenge of early life is school - and school is designed for average people. So intelligent people just breeze through.

But there is a point where every intelligent person faces something that requires more than intelligence. It requires hard work, it requires the ability to fail, it requires being able to do tough tasks, boring tasks. For the first time in their life, in spite of their intelligence, these intelligent people are challenged, and they start failing. Like when they first attempt to (make themselves successful).

And that's where most of them retreat. They focus on things they can't fail on, and ignore the other important things. They start to blame other things (like vices). They procrastinate. They refuse to face new problems because they know they will not be able to handle them, and this does not fit into their worldview that they are invincible.

Let me tell another story. In 2007, I had dinner with the father of my girlfriend in Paris. He is currently a vice president at one of the top 5 consulting companies in the world. He is a jewish french immigrant from Morroco - he came in the 70s to France with no money and no connections, and he made it up to become Vice President, even though he studied to be an engineer.

I asked him: How did you do it? How did you start from being an immigrant to become executive material? He told me: I got this far because I'm intelligent. He continued: But there were many many people as intelligent as I am who graduated together with me. They are still engineers right now. The difference between me and them is that when I arrived, I knew that I did not have family here in france, I did not have connections. And I knew there were a lot of other people as intelligent as I was, and who had all these advantages. The only way to be successful then would be to gain a slight advantage over them - I had to work and train harder than they did, I had to get to know more people than they did, I had to learn more about more things that they did.

We started off equals, but at some point all the effort I put in started to pay off, and where they stopped improving themselves, I continued, and I got better and better. Where they were afraid to try new things because they would fail, I tried and I got better and knew more, till I was good enough for the job I hold now.

How this relates to you

Being intelligent is like having a knife. If you train every day in using the knife, you will be invincible. If you think that just having a knife will make you win any battle you fight, then you will fail. This believe in your own inherent ability is what will kill your (success). Success comes from the work and ability you put in becoming better than the others, and not from some brilliance you feel you may have within you.

So don't believe that the brilliance of your idea is what will make you successful. What will make you successful is when you are out there every day, doing something new, challenging yourself, trying new methods, studying new ways, having a lot of small failures, then getting better every day.

I am in no way trying to make you understand The Secret of Life. Only Dave Chappelle can do that.

OK Go - This Too Shall Pass, Awesome Rube Goldberg Video

2010-03-03T20:19:00.006-05:00

I've never listened to these guys, but I think I'm going to have to start. This is one of the coolest music videos I've ever seen. Wired. Com explains how it was built, with how it was done videos from the band and the lab that created it, HERE.

For more mumbletomyneighbor posts on Rube Goldberg, go HERE.

Spider Guy 27b/6 Shut Down by Australia's Government due to Censorship Laws

2010-03-01T17:29:00.000-05:00

First things first. Australia has now joined the forward thinking China in implementing the censorship laws.

Second, the spider story above was all over the internet awhile ago. The man behind it is hilarious. His modus operandi is to start an email exchange that creeps ever so closely to borderline madness. Once he gets the victim frothing at the mouth, he tones it down and reels them back in again. Well, David Thorne (27b/6 guy)decided to have a go out the folks that implement the censorship. Well, he went a little too far and they yanked his page. Fortunately, I got the text before they did so. Here you go, it's funny. After the jump...

From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 26 February 2010 8.12pm
To: Michael Harding

Subject: Censorship

Dear Mike, Thank you for your letter. At no time have I condoned the use of drugs. I simply stated that I wish to purchase and sell them at a profit. I do however understand the importance of censorship. Without an enforced system of guidance from agencies such as yours, people would be forced to exercise their own discretion. Regards, David.

From: Michael Harding
Date: Saturday 27 February 2010 10.27am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Censorship

David, your obvious disrespect for authority doesn't change the fact that soliciting money for the purpose of purchasing and selling drugs is a criminal offence under South Australian law. I advise you to remove the article and I will check that you have done so by 5pm tomorrow. Yours sincerely, Michael Harding

From: David Thorne
Date: Saturday 27 February 2010 10.44am
To: Michael Harding
Subject:Re: Re: Censorship

Dear Michael,Despite your assumption, I have the highest amount of respect for authority. I actually wanted to become a police officer but failed the IQ test when I arrived on time at the correct building. While not exactly a police officer, when I was about eight I desperately wanted to be Tom Selleck from Magnum PI. I painted my Standish Selecta-12 bright red and constructed a moustache by clipping a large amount of hair from the neighbour's cat and gluing it to my upper lip. This is how I discovered my allergy to cat hair. Dragged to my neighbour's house, my apology through lips the size of bananas came out as "Imsryfrctnheroffyrcat iwntdtobemgnumpi." I also wanted to be frozen and thawed out in the 25th century due to Wilma Deering's jumpsuit but despite emptying the refrigerator and sitting in it for over an hour, the only result was mild hypothermia and a belting.

I have been considering sitting the police exam again as protecting the community from burglars, murderers and blogs must be very fulfilling. I am fairly fit due to regularly thinking about jogging and I once performed a jumping jack. It was unintentional and involved a spider on the bath mat but still counts. I am also experienced in self defence and recently built a moat. Sometimes, I dress as a French mime and pretend to walk against a strong wind to the delight of those around me. Everybody loves a mime. This skill would obviously come in quite useful during police stealth operations.Due to restrictive Australian gun laws, I do not have much experience with weapons but I did construct my own bazooka when I was about ten using a length of pipe, a securely tightened end cap, a golf ball and a three to one ratio of chlorine & brake fluid. While the design was flawless, the resulting broken collar bone from the kickback and two inch hole through two plaster walls then a television set brought a swift end to my foray into ballistic research and development.
Regards, David.

From: Michael Harding
Date: Saturday 27 February 2010 2.09pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

David, this isn't the first time we've received complaints regarding your website. You have until 5pm tomorrow to remove the article and I'll be checking your website regularly. You might not take this seriously but I can assure you that we do. Yours sincerely, Michael Harding

From: David Thorne
Date: Saturday 27 February 2010 3.18pm
To: Michael Harding
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

Dear Michael, I do indeed take the matter seriously and will attempt to facilitate your request by 5pm tomorrow despite the fact that I am extremely busy this weekend. I need to bury the two dead backpackers I have in the spare room as the smell is starting to attract suspicion. And wolves. It is a fairly large job as one of the backpackers is American and will therefore require a hole several sizes larger than normal. On the plus side, the other is from England which obviously means no dental records. I could hire one of those mini bobcat tractors for the day but will probably just let the children out for a game of 'best digger gets food this week'. I am sick of hearing "I want my parents" and "Please don't lock me in the spare room again, it smells funny" but many hands, no matter how small, make light work.Also, I was watching Crime Stoppers last night and was wondering if you need anyone to play the perpetrators in crime re-enactments? I have several years acting experience convincing co-workers that I am listening and care about their relationship issues or what they did on the weekend while really thinking about robots or what would happen if a car made of diamond drove really fast into a wall made of diamond. I would prefer to play either a black professor or an Asian bus driver.

Regards, David.

From: Michael Harding
Date: Sunday 28 February 2010 10.26am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

I suggest you spend the time deleting the page as you have been requested to do rather than writing about dead backpackers. What is wrong with you?

From: David Thorne
Date: Sunday 28 February 2010 2.02pm
To: Michael Harding
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

Dear Mike,

My apologies for not getting back to you earlier, I was busy torching my vehicle. Did you know that if you report it stolen the insurance company gives you money to buy a new one? I usually do this every eleven months as it saves having to pay for an annual service.I do not have dead backpackers in the spare room. I was just being silly. There is no space in there due to the hydroponics system, pots and bags of nutrients. I read somewhere that it is ok to have up to three hundred and seventy marijuana plants for personal use. Correct me if I wrong. As I do not have a backyard and the plants take up most of the apartment, I sleep in a hammock stretched between two of the larger trunks. It is like sleeping in a jungle and sometimes I pretend I am a baby monkey. Due to the 24 hour UV lighting, my electricity bill this month is nearly four thousand dollars but I have an awesome tan. In regards to the website, rather than deleting the article, I will amend it to be about cats. Is this acceptable to you? Regards, David.

From: Michael Harding
Date: Sunday 28 February 2010 2.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

It isn't legal to grow even one plant which I'm sure you already know. Possession of less than 100g or one plant has been decriminalised but still carries a fine. Changing the page to be about cats is fine. I will be checking to see if it has been done by 5pm. I strongly suggest that you do so.
From: David Thorne
Date: Sunday 28 February 2010 4.17pm
To: Michael Harding
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

Dear Mike,

5pm eastern standard time or ours?

Regards, David.

From: Michael Harding
Date: Sunday 28 February 2010 4.41pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

Ours. I've had enough of your nonsense. If the page is not removed or changed within the next 20 minutes I will be filing an order under the e-crimes act of 2006 to have the website shut down.

From: David Thorne
Date: Sunday 28 February 2010 4.59pm
To: Michael Harding
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

Done.

Here's the full spider story...

The White Buffalo - Love Song 1

2010-02-25T22:17:00.005-05:00

I really dig this guy. Reminds me of Seven Mary Three which is a sore spot for most music purists, but I dare you to listen to the song that follows and tell me it's not good.

"Rise Phoenix out of her. Twice no one dies she says."

Actually, that version is pretty shitty. It's a hard to find B side so I didn't look hard for studio quality but the warble of the two singers is pretty spot on.

Russian Married With Children

2010-02-22T16:52:00.005-05:00

This is the Russian version of Kelly.

Click through for the awesome video. The guys Ed Bundy impression is really good. Also a link to some...um...Christmas photos.

More Darya Sagalova Pics HERE (NSFW)

From Reddit : If you constantly find yourself wondering how would a Russian version of Married w/Children look like, you can now stop.

Drinking Like Sunday Morning

2010-02-20T02:51:00.004-05:00

The rain fell on me like yesterdays breakfast. I was hoping for an early flight but only found an easy reason for mourning. I drank as much as they would give me but was back in New York and barely knew I had felt like I was under anesthesia. I put my bags at a friend’s house and quickly sat myself at the old local bar. It took him 20 minutes to leave and lock me out for ever. I moved in to an old bartender's house who later usurped herself as my lover and went on my quest to be a flown in employee for a future I would not expect. I showed up in poor shoes and horrible clothes only to be sent back in shame. Shame was something I was good at however because it was the only thing that fit me well and I did not have to adjust it to my frame. I went to work and toiled back and forth trying to find my rhythm until it found me. In the supply closet, not looking for supplies, she came upon me in tight pants with a light smile and I coalesced. The first date was a night in a dingy bar that had couches that were made for dingy sessions. Days led to evenings. Her obsession became my demise. I slowly moved in with her and into her. But it took enormous feats like scaling walls and jumping ropes to make it last. At the end, we were naked on rooftops and killing ants. This was the beginning of the best days of my life.

Here's the website of the guy who crashed a stolen plane into the IRS after burning down his house...

2010-02-18T14:46:00.004-05:00

Want to read his crazy diatribe? Click through for the full letter before it was yanked from the internet. First a creepy excerpt:

This (an audit from the IRS) left me stuck in the middle of this disaster trying to defend transactions that have no relationship to anything tax-related (at least the tax-related transactions were poorly documented). Things I never knew anything about and things my wife had no clue would ever matter to anyone. The end result is… well, just look around.

Click through for the full letter which has now been taken down from www.embeddedart.com by the FBI.

Well Mr. Big Brother IRS man...take my pound of flesh and sleep well.

If you’re reading this, you’re no doubt asking yourself, “Why did this have to happen?” The simple truth is that it is complicated and has been coming for a long time. The writing process, started many months ago, was intended to be therapy in the face of the looming realization that there isn’t enough therapy in the world that can fix what is really broken. Needless to say, this rant could fill volumes with example after example if I would let it. I find the process of writing it frustrating, tedious, and probably pointless… especially given my gross inability to gracefully articulate my thoughts in light of the storm raging in my head. Exactly what is therapeutic about that I’m not sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

We are all taught as children that without laws there would be no society, only anarchy. Sadly, starting at early ages we in this country have been brainwashed to believe that, in return for our dedication and service, our government stands for justice for all. We are further brainwashed to believe that there is freedom in this place, and that we should be ready to lay our lives down for the noble principals represented by its founding fathers. Remember? One of these was “no taxation without representation”. I have spent the total years of my adulthood unlearning that crap from only a few years of my childhood. These days anyone who really stands up for that principal is promptly labeled a “crackpot”, traitor and worse.

While very few working people would say they haven’t had their fair share of taxes (as can I), in my lifetime I can say with a great degree of certainty that there has never been a politician cast a vote on any matter with the likes of me or my interests in mind. Nor, for that matter, are they the least bit interested in me or anything I have to say.

Why is it that a handful of thugs and plunderers can commit unthinkable atrocities (and in the case of the GM executives, for scores of years) and when it’s time for their gravy train to crash under the weight of their gluttony and overwhelming stupidity, the force of the full federal government has no difficulty coming to their aid within days if not hours? Yet at the same time, the joke we call the American medical system, including the drug and insurance companies, are murdering tens of thousands of people a year and stealing from the corpses and victims they cripple, and this country’s leaders don’t see this as important as bailing out a few of their vile, rich cronies. Yet, the political “representatives” (thieves, liars, and self-serving scumbags is far more accurate) have endless time to sit around for year after year and debate the state of the “terrible health care problem”. It’s clear they see no crisis as long as the dead people don’t get in the way of their corporate profits rolling in.

And justice? You’ve got to be kidding!

How can any rational individual explain that white elephant conundrum in the middle of our tax system and, indeed, our entire legal system? Here we have a system that is, by far, too complicated for the brightest of the master scholars to understand. Yet, it mercilessly “holds accountable” its victims, claiming that they’re responsible for fully complying with laws not even the experts understand. The law “requires” a signature on the bottom of a tax filing; yet no one can say truthfully that they understand what they are signing; if that’s not “duress” than what is. If this is not the measure of a totalitarian regime, nothing is.

How did I get here?

My introduction to the real American nightmare starts back in the early ‘80s. Unfortunately after more than 16 years of school, somewhere along the line I picked up the absurd, pompous notion that I could read and understand plain English. Some friends introduced me to a group of people who were having ‘tax code’ readings and discussions. In particular, zeroed in on a section relating to the wonderful “exemptions” that make institutions like the vulgar, corrupt Catholic Church so incredibly wealthy. We carefully studied the law (with the help of some of the “best”, high-paid, experienced tax lawyers in the business), and then began to do exactly what the “big boys” were doing (except that we weren’t steeling from our congregation or lying to the government about our massive profits in the name of God). We took a great deal of care to make it all visible, following all of the rules, exactly the way the law said it was to be done.

The intent of this exercise and our efforts was to bring about a much-needed re-evaluation of the laws that allow the monsters of organized religion to make such a mockery of people who earn an honest living. However, this is where I learned that there are two “interpretations” for every law; one for the very rich, and one for the rest of us… Oh, and the monsters are the very ones making and enforcing the laws; the inquisition is still alive and well today in this country.

That little lesson in patriotism cost me $40,000+, 10 years of my life, and set my retirement plans back to 0. It made me realize for the first time that I live in a country with an ideology that is based on a total and complete lie. It also made me realize, not only how naive I had been, but also the incredible stupidity of the American public; that they buy, hook, line, and sinker, the crap about their “freedom”… and that they continue to do so with eyes closed in the face of overwhelming evidence and all that keeps happening in front of them.

Before even having to make a shaky recovery from the sting of the first lesson on what justice really means in this country (around 1984 after making my way through engineering school and still another five years of “paying my dues”), I felt I finally had to take a chance of launching my dream of becoming an independent engineer.

On the subjects of engineers and dreams of independence, I should digress somewhat to say that I’m sure that I inherited the fascination for creative problem solving from my father. I realized this at a very young age.

The significance of independence, however, came much later during my early years of college; at the age of 18 or 19 when I was living on my own as student in an apartment in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. My neighbor was an elderly retired woman (80+ seemed ancient to me at that age) who was the widowed wife of a retired steel worker. Her husband had worked all his life in the steel mills of central Pennsylvania with promises from big business and the union that, for his 30 years of service, he would have a pension and medical care to look forward to in his retirement. Instead he was one of the thousands who got nothing because the incompetent mill management and corrupt union (not to mention the government) raided their pension funds and stole their retirement. All she had was social security to live on.

In retrospect, the situation was laughable because here I was living on peanut butter and bread (or Ritz crackers when I could afford to splurge) for months at a time. When I got to know this poor figure and heard her story I felt worse for her plight than for my own (I, after all, I thought I had everything to in front of me). I was genuinely appalled at one point, as we exchanged stories and commiserated with each other over our situations, when she in her grandmotherly fashion tried to convince me that I would be “healthier” eating cat food (like her) rather than trying to get all my substance from peanut butter and bread. I couldn’t quite go there, but the impression was made. I decided that I didn’t trust big business to take care of me, and that I would take responsibility for my own future and myself.

Return to the early ‘80s, and here I was off to a terrifying start as a ‘wet-behind-the-ears’ contract software engineer... and two years later, thanks to the fine backroom, midnight effort by the sleazy executives of Arthur Andersen (the very same folks who later brought us Enron and other such calamities) and an equally sleazy New York Senator (Patrick Moynihan), we saw the passage of 1986 tax reform act with its section 1706.

For you who are unfamiliar, here is the core text of the IRS Section 1706, defining the treatment of workers (such as contract engineers) for tax purposes. Visit this link for a conference committee report (http://www.synergistech.com/1706.shtml#ConferenceCommitteeReport) regarding the intended interpretation of Section 1706 and the relevant parts of Section 530, as amended. For information on how these laws affect technical services workers and their clients, read our discussion here (http://www.synergistech.com/ic-taxlaw.shtml).

SEC. 1706. TREATMENT OF CERTAIN TECHNICAL PERSONNEL.

(a) IN GENERAL - Section 530 of the Revenue Act of 1978 is amended by adding at the end thereof the following new subsection:

(d) EXCEPTION. - This section shall not apply in the case of an individual who pursuant to an arrangement between the taxpayer and another person, provides services for such other person as an engineer, designer, drafter, computer programmer, systems analyst, or other similarly skilled worker engaged in a similar line of work.

(b) EFFECTIVE DATE. - The amendment made by this section shall apply to remuneration paid and services rendered after December 31, 1986.

Note:

· "another person" is the client in the traditional job-shop relationship.

· "taxpayer" is the recruiter, broker, agency, or job shop.

· "individual", "employee", or "worker" is you.

Admittedly, you need to read the treatment to understand what it is saying but it’s not very complicated. The bottom line is that they may as well have put my name right in the text of section (d). Moreover, they could only have been more blunt if they would have came out and directly declared me a criminal and non-citizen slave. Twenty years later, I still can’t believe my eyes.

During 1987, I spent close to $5000 of my ‘pocket change’, and at least 1000 hours of my time writing, printing, and mailing to any senator, congressman, governor, or slug that might listen; none did, and they universally treated me as if I was wasting their time. I spent countless hours on the L.A. freeways driving to meetings and any and all of the disorganized professional groups who were attempting to mount a campaign against this atrocity. This, only to discover that our efforts were being easily derailed by a few moles from the brokers who were just beginning to enjoy the windfall from the new declaration of their “freedom”. Oh, and don’t forget, for all of the time I was spending on this, I was loosing income that I couldn’t bill clients.

After months of struggling it had clearly gotten to be a futile exercise. The best we could get for all of our trouble is a pronouncement from an IRS mouthpiece that they weren’t going to enforce that provision (read harass engineers and scientists). This immediately proved to be a lie, and the mere existence of the regulation began to have its impact on my bottom line; this, of course, was the intended effect.

Again, rewind my retirement plans back to 0 and shift them into idle. If I had any sense, I clearly should have left abandoned engineering and never looked back.

Instead I got busy working 100-hour workweeks. Then came the L.A. depression of the early 1990s. Our leaders decided that they didn’t need the all of those extra Air Force bases they had in Southern California, so they were closed; just like that. The result was economic devastation in the region that rivaled the widely publicized Texas S&L fiasco. However, because the government caused it, no one gave a shit about all of the young families who lost their homes or street after street of boarded up houses abandoned to the wealthy loan companies who received government funds to “shore up” their windfall. Again, I lost my retirement.

Years later, after weathering a divorce and the constant struggle trying to build some momentum with my business, I find myself once again beginning to finally pick up some speed. Then came the .COM bust and the 911 nightmare. Our leaders decided that all aircraft were grounded for what seemed like an eternity; and long after that, ‘special’ facilities like San Francisco were on security alert for months. This made access to my customers prohibitively expensive. Ironically, after what they had done the Government came to the aid of the airlines with billions of our tax dollars … as usual they left me to rot and die while they bailed out their rich, incompetent cronies WITH MY MONEY! After these events, there went my business but not quite yet all of my retirement and savings.

By this time, I’m thinking that it might be good for a change. Bye to California, I’ll try Austin for a while. So I moved, only to find out that this is a place with a highly inflated sense of self-importance and where damn little real engineering work is done. I’ve never experienced such a hard time finding work. The rates are 1/3 of what I was earning before the crash, because pay rates here are fixed by the three or four large companies in the area who are in collusion to drive down prices and wages… and this happens because the justice department is all on the take and doesn’t give a fuck about serving anyone or anything but themselves and their rich buddies.

To survive, I was forced to cannibalize my savings and retirement, the last of which was a small IRA. This came in a year with mammoth expenses and not a single dollar of income. I filed no return that year thinking that because I didn’t have any income there was no need. The sleazy government decided that they disagreed. But they didn’t notify me in time for me to launch a legal objection so when I attempted to get a protest filed with the court I was told I was no longer entitled to due process because the time to file ran out. Bend over for another $10,000 helping of justice.

So now we come to the present. After my experience with the CPA world, following the business crash I swore that I’d never enter another accountant’s office again. But here I am with a new marriage and a boatload of undocumented income, not to mention an expensive new business asset, a piano, which I had no idea how to handle. After considerable thought I decided that it would be irresponsible NOT to get professional help; a very big mistake.

When we received the forms back I was very optimistic that they were in order. I had taken all of the years information to Bill Ross, and he came back with results very similar to what I was expecting. Except that he had neglected to include the contents of Sheryl’s unreported income; $12,700 worth of it. To make matters worse, Ross knew all along this was missing and I didn’t have a clue until he pointed it out in the middle of the audit. By that time it had become brutally evident that he was representing himself and not me.

This left me stuck in the middle of this disaster trying to defend transactions that have no relationship to anything tax-related (at least the tax-related transactions were poorly documented). Things I never knew anything about and things my wife had no clue would ever matter to anyone. The end result is… well, just look around.

I remember reading about the stock market crash before the “great” depression and how there were wealthy bankers and businessmen jumping out of windows when they realized they screwed up and lost everything. Isn’t it ironic how far we’ve come in 60 years in this country that they now know how to fix that little economic problem; they just steal from the middle class (who doesn’t have any say in it, elections are a joke) to cover their asses and it’s “business-as-usual”. Now when the wealthy fuck up, the poor get to die for the mistakes… isn’t that a clever, tidy solution.

As government agencies go, the FAA is often justifiably referred to as a tombstone agency, though they are hardly alone. The recent presidential puppet GW Bush and his cronies in their eight years certainly reinforced for all of us that this criticism rings equally true for all of the government. Nothing changes unless there is a body count (unless it is in the interest of the wealthy sows at the government trough). In a government full of hypocrites from top to bottom, life is as cheap as their lies and their self-serving laws.

I know I’m hardly the first one to decide I have had all I can stand. It has always been a myth that people have stopped dying for their freedom in this country, and it isn’t limited to the blacks, and poor immigrants. I know there have been countless before me and there are sure to be as many after. But I also know that by not adding my body to the count, I insure nothing will change. I choose to not keep looking over my shoulder at “big brother” while he strips my carcass, I choose not to ignore what is going on all around me, I choose not to pretend that business as usual won’t continue; I have just had enough.

I can only hope that the numbers quickly get too big to be white washed and ignored that the American zombies wake up and revolt; it will take nothing less. I would only hope that by striking a nerve that stimulates the inevitable double standard, knee-jerk government reaction that results in more stupid draconian restrictions people wake up and begin to see the pompous political thugs and their mindless minions for what they are. Sadly, though I spent my entire life trying to believe it wasn’t so, but violence not only is the answer, it is the only answer. The cruel joke is that the really big chunks of shit at the top have known this all along and have been laughing, at and using this awareness against, fools like me all along.

I saw it written once that the definition of insanity is repeating the same process over and over and expecting the outcome to suddenly be different. I am finally ready to stop this insanity. Well, Mr. Big Brother IRS man, let’s try something different; take my pound of flesh and sleep well.

The communist creed: From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.

The capitalist creed: From each according to his gullibility, to each according to his greed.

Joe Stack (1956-2010)

02/18/2010

BLIZZARD OF 2010

2010-02-10T14:18:00.001-05:00

Mormon Explanation for the Origin of Black People

2010-01-21T12:56:00.006-05:00

Black people aren't down with Jesus.

I used to know this kid in High School who was Mormon. Besides having a weird girl name (Cary) he was fairly normal. We didn't have any black people at our school so I never got see him enact with anyone except for white people in a one on one situation. But according to this cartoon, he thought they were aliens and not cool with Jesus. Now that I think about it, we used to screw with him in the locker room because he was still wearing cartoon underwear in the eleventh grade...so I guess that's pretty weird too.

"They decided to put all of Elohim’s many children on a planet, and that the planet needed a savior the bid, for it came down to Jesus and to Lucifer. But Jesus won out because he had unselfish reasons. But then Lucifer revolted and turned many of Elohim’s children against him, and they were banished to the earth, never to have physical bodies. The people who were on the side of Jesus were very light skinned. And the people who remained neutral in the battle, their skinned turned black and this is the Mormon explanation for the black race."

Mormonism Exposed

Looking For That Special Someone?

2009-12-24T10:04:00.003-05:00

Sorry I've been so lazy lately. But there's nothing like discovering a gay thug love dating website to get these fingers tapping again. Due to mumbletomyneighbor's dedication to bringing you all things fresh and new from the online dating forum of the world wide web, I give you gaythugdating.com

This site is hilarious. It has always amazed me as to why real thugs tolerate such things as gay thugs. I mean if I walked around my hood trying to be hard they wouldn't allow that for a minute. Why is it okay for a man that openly dreams of a Jonas Bros. foursome to walk around acting hard? I find it hard to believe that Omar Little was a real person. Click through for some real life profiles from the Number 1 Gay Thug Website. (There's more than one? Good Grief...)

Here's Proof. Surporisingly they are all "Man looking for a Man"...

Sara Palin : Oprah Interview Highlights

2009-11-19T14:41:00.004-05:00

"I loooooove Porn!"

If you're like me you probably didn't get to see Sarah Palin on the Oprah Winfrey Show yesterday. I wouldn't have watched even if I could have. But boy, would I have missed out! She discussed her love of porn and how hubby Todd plows her for hours after being asked why she stepped down from the governors office. I know she's never been known to stay on topic but this is ridiculous. Click through to watch the highlights after the jump...

Make Me Mighty : Your Own Medieval Coat of Arms

2009-11-17T23:29:00.001-05:00

Me taking a picture of my girl on the beach in Rio.

Sorry for the absence, been out with the swine flu. At least that's what i told my job. Really I was in Rio kicking it with my girl Shakira. I don't have time for a proper post, like 1,200 words on Mr. T. I did find something interesting today though to hold you over. Some people get all jazzed up over their lineage being traced back to royalty or some warlord of yore. Well, now you can just fake it. Click through with a step by step instruction of how to obtain your own badass of coat of arms for the rock bottom price of nothing. Thats right, it's free!

To start, go here: MakeMeMighty.ca

I know the .ca made me kind of dubious, too, but then I though everything from Canada can't be shitty. I mean, Neil Young is a badass, right?

Yeah so I was lying, you just type your name in the box and it does all the work. Just do it till you get one you like. Slap it up as your desktop wallpaper and get ready to make up some bullshit story when the office fatty rolls up on you. Here's mine, (click to enlarge):

Angel

2009-11-12T11:13:00.000-05:00

I sat down and left her for nothing as long as something came true. Her breath was warm and kept me whole. A step in the right path of unended horses fell to the trail that cowboys did. She was a woman that galloped in the right step of a show horse. She led a beautiful loser to a short sell that led the long hall to the hope that only existed in the oasis of blood that is bleeding. It is yours that will be signed in a red wonderment that will turn you in. That red will be your signature as long as your heart still pumps.

China's Got Talent : Monkey & Goat Walk a Tight Roap!

2009-11-02T19:48:00.000-05:00

The internet has anything. This proves it.

Hot Mormon Mom Calendar

2009-10-30T14:36:00.006-04:00

You may have seen this floating around, fortunately all the other sites don't have the photos I do. Click through for behind the scenes photo shoot. Might be NSFW due to some being in bras in panties!

This is from the video series. You can find their youtube channel HERE. That beautiful pair below belongs Letitia "Sister" Farr.

Buy the calendar HERE. For more weird cchick themed calendars, go HERE. How did i start reviewing calendars...man my life is miserable.

Badasses: Sudanese Rapper, Bangs

2009-10-28T22:33:00.003-04:00

Click poster to enlarge print and hang on your wall, ceiling or cubicle.

Yo, Yo! So check out my boy Bangs here! Dopest rapper to come out of Footscray Australia via Egypt via North Khartoum, Sudan. That's hardcore, yo! You'd think his rhymes would be about the atrocities of Africa like Chuckie Taylor, but he doesn't roll that way. He's down with the pound as far as what sells in America so he autotunes the shit out of all his songs on such topics as: girls and taking girls to the movies. His debut album Hard to Be Up is in limited release and as of right now, you can only get it at an adult book store on a side street of Leeds St.

You gotta see his dope ass video for Take Ya to Da Movies. Click thru to get the lyrics exclusively here on Mumbletomyneighbor so you can be the first to spit'em on your local block's freestyle rap off. You can cop them as your own, he's still waaaay underground. But just wait, once this jam starts burning up the charts and is in constant rotation at Hot 97, you can say he stole them from you. Instant street cred, Yo! Word up!

LYRICS:

Yeah your boy bangs
And this track is dedicated to all the ladies out there that like to go to the movies
Especially you girl.
Let me take you to the movies, shorty
I’m sure later on you will be my baby.
Let’s just sit down be by my side.
I got the popcorn I know what else you like.

Hey shorty, you really looking nice
Let me take you to da the movies cause I know you like.
You got nothing to worry about
Hold the popcorn and the drink
Let me pay the money so we can get in.
Now hold my hand
and take a step to the door
Don’t fall
Lets sit on those two chairs alone
Watching a movie
So we can see whats going on.
If you like to watch you can lean on my chest
Take a rest do you r best.
Baby Girl
(Yehaw!)

Chorus

I hope you enjoyed the movie Cause I did too
Anytime you wanna go again, Just holla at me
Baby girl we can make it to be better than before
Anything you want me to do, I can do it for sure.
You can be my Cinderella
When it rains, you can stand under my umbrella
I know it make us feel better
I'm not like other boys
I'm a different guy
coming from the sky
I never lie
Just let me know if you wanna go somewhere
Yeah Boy!

Chorus
Hey shorty where you at where you going can I see you later
Cause I can see you busy right now meet me at the shop at 4 o’clock don’t forget and don’t be late
I can tell you what we do when you come back
I still remember what you told me take me to the movies Friday night,
that’s right what time it is now half past three my girl be back in about half an hour
let me go and take shower dress
good put some perfume so I can smell good

(Talks in baller voice)
Yea girl you can go to the movie any time you like
but guess who you gonna call your baby boy bangs
cause he still got chance you know I mean
(Yehaw!)
yeah yeah that’s right roll um

Sings softly
Let’s just sit down be by my side.
I got the popcorn I know what else you like.

Take a gander at bangs special girl:

For more Badasses, click HERE.

www.bangs8.com

Amazing Tom Cruise Impersonation

2009-10-22T11:01:00.002-04:00

And...no, he doesn't just jerk off to pictures of little boys. Dude is spot on. It's pretty funny.

Jungbauernkalender : German Erotica Farm Girls Calendar

2009-10-21T22:19:00.010-04:00

The Germans are famous for finding things erotic that most people wouldn't dream of, only second to the Japanese. Hell, they find Hasselhoff wildly entertaining. He's a bestselling musician over there, even after this cover/video catastrophe: HERE.

Staying true to typical mumbletomyneighbor fashion, I add another weird but sexy installment to the slowly growing "Calendar" tag on this site with the only other previous post on this topic being "Russian Nuclear Power Plant Goes Nuclear." Yes, the Russians or Putin made a calendar to that features ACTUAL employees of nuclear power plants that were obviously never close to the powerfully destructive Chernobyl.

However, the girls in this calendar are ALL hot. The previous, only a smattering. The difference lies primarily in the fact that a professional photographer, Jungbauern, was commissioned to cast and shoot it. He picks his ladies well. In addition to his goats, chickens and cows. They are shot scantily in the natural environment in the most artistic ways possible for this shoot. Let's just say, 2010 will be a good year. However, according to dead Mexicans, 2012, will not. For this Hollywood film studio, at least. Just kidding, every jackass in America will see it. If that includes you, you should feel ashamed.

After the jump, every girl, month by month. The above photo is December, of course. I was able to find them without the watermark so you can print them out, Photoshop yourself into them, shrink them and place them in your wallet as a girlfriend photo or on the dashboard of your shitty car or place them in your Megan Fox shrine, whatever it is that weirdos do. There is no nudity but there are few topless women covering themselves with a baby goat. Just kidding. About the goat part. Maybe NSFW. Don't forget to click to ENLARGE.

Buy It Here, I think?
<VIA>

Welcome to Ohio, Home of The Rape Tunnel

2009-10-19T22:40:00.001-04:00

This is hilarious. Some jackass (Richard Whitehurst) just decided to dispose of the whole "cotton candy, win you a teddy bear, Tunnel of Love, night at the carnival" that serves as a prerequisite to you getting your dipstick dipped, if you know what I mean. Under the pretense of "ART" he has a controversial new exhibit. It's called The Rape Tunnel. Basically you crawl into a long tunnel and he rapes you. Yep, come one come all, Richard says:

It could be men, women, old, young, fat, thin… anyone.

My luck, the night I got to man the Rape Tunnel would be the night the Cincinatti Bengals were visiting the museum as a public service with a group of inner city kids. This isn't Whitehurst's first shot at why didn't i think of that genius. His previous exhibit was a "Punch-You-In-The-Face-Tunnel." I'm not kidding. Guy is bursting with brilliance. Hopefully his next installation will be the "Blow-Me-And-Make-Me-A-Drink-And-Leave-Me-Alone-Tunnel." I'd go even if it was him inside. As long as he would let me stay in there a while. Unfortunately, this will probably never happen, cause the whole thing was a hoax by a website called Artlurker. I fell for it hook, line and sinker.

Click through for photos of the exhibit and him as well as fraudulent interview after the jump.

This was the supposed Rape Tunnel. Looks scary right?

Richard Whitehurst, Genius-At-Large

Gawker fell for it, too, so don't feel like a dumbass. Ok then, go ahead, feel like a dumbass. Interview From Artlurker below:

Please describe the project.

In the 4D Gallery main room, I’ve constructed a 22 ft tunnel out of plywood that leads into the project room. There is no way in or out of the project room except for this tunnel. As you travel through the tunnel, it gets smaller and smaller, making it so that you have to crawl and put yourself in a submissive position in order to reach the tunnel’s destination. At the end of the tunnel the subject will find me waiting in the project room and I’ll try to the best of my ability to overpower and rape the person who crawls through.

Why rape?

Because as an artistic gesture, it’s one of the most impactful I can think of. For the past ten years Ohio’s art scene has been largely centered around a string of alternative spaces in Akron’s warehouse district, where people had been putting on art shows. At the beginning I happily participated along with everyone else but then I started to feel like it wasn’t going anywhere. It dawned on me that if the work we created had never existed the world would be no different than if it had. None of it mattered to anyone outside of our small and insignificant circle of peers. I wanted something that would have more impact.

I started to think differently about my work. In 2007 at the Seward Projects Space in Columbus, I had my first breakthrough with an installation that was to be the prototype for this current one. It was called THE PUNCH-YOU-IN-THE-FACE TUNNEL. It was the same set-up as THE RAPE TUNNEL except at the end of the tunnel I’d punch the subject in the face instead of raping him or her. The impetus was completely reactionary to the current state of art, and motivated by pure frustration.

As it turns out, I ended up breaking the nose of the third person to crawl through the tunnel, an aspiring model. She went to the hospital and eventually sued me. Her modeling career was put on hold. The civil case was long and drawn out and the matter still hasn’t been resolved. To this day she still has unpaid medical bills. The point of this long aside is that all this took place two years ago, and I’m still having an impact on this young lady’s life, something not many other artists could claim about their work.

Rape seemed like the next logical step.

But rape is way more extreme than a punch to the face. Is your intention to ruin people’s lives?

Possibly. I’m not necessarily concerned with the positive or negative effects of this project so long as there is some effect on people’s lives. I’ve merely set up a situation where there is potential to impact people in meaningful ways. Maybe I won’t be able to rape everyone who crawls through the tunnel, but the door is open for all kinds of scenarios; rape, serious injury, maybe even death. I might even get arrested.

Right now the installation isn’t even complete, and I’ve riled up a substantial portion of the local population. The installation as an idea is powerful enough itself.

By “substantial portion of the local population” are you referring to people that have been protesting this event?

Yes.

How do you feel about the protesters?

I’m fine with them. They have the right to speak out against this installation. The project would be an utter failure if it didn’t create this kind of open dialogue.

Are you pro-rape?

Not really. I personally think rape is morally reprehensible and something that should generally not be allowed in our society. Most people feel this way, which is why the act is exploitable for the purposes of my work. If people were not so repulsed by rape then this project would fail.

Does this mean you’re willing to go to jail for the sake of your work?

I am. The local authorities are already threatening to have this exhibition shut down. Caroline Miffen [4D Gallery director] to her credit has hired a team of lawyers working hard to ensure that THE RAPE TUNNEL will proceed as planned. At the end of the day there’s a disclaimer on the door so people know what they’re getting into.

It would seem that what you are proposing to do will not technically constitute rape for the obvious reason that whoever enters into the tunnel is acting of their own free will, therefore making the act consensual. If you aren’t really raping anyone, doesn’t that undermine the credibility of the project?

First of all, I want to make it clear that I plan to make the experience as unpleasant as I possibly can to anyone who dares to crawl through the tunnel. I will try to the best of my ability to make them regret their decision.

Secondly, rape is not always a black and white issue. The definition is argued almost everyday in courtrooms around the country. The woman who gets too drunk one night and regrets having sex the next morning, was she raped or not? There is no easy answer. I hope some of that ambiguity will manifest itself in this project.

Do you have any limitations on the kind of person you’ll rape?

None whatsoever. It could be men, women, old, young, fat, thin… anyone.

What if a police officer crawls through the tunnel?

Then I will probably go to jail. But before that I’ll try my very best to sexually assault him or her. The tunnel is constructed in such a way that it gets smaller the closer you get to the project room. The bigger you are, the more difficult it is to comfortably crawl out. And trust me, I have a lot of secrets up my sleeve to ensure that I can overpower anyone that comes through the tunnel.

Where do you go from here then, a “Murder Tunnel”?

No. That would be too much like repeating myself. I’ve thought about this long and hard.

I’m in danger of painting myself into a corner here and I fear that the sensational aspects of my work might overshadow my ultimate message. If I could somehow cure some disease in the name of art, that would be interesting.

The problem with most of today’s art is that it’s being created for a world that doesn’t want or need it. So many other lesser modes of expression have taken the place once held by art in the culture. I’m trying to totally reconfigure art’s importance in the world and make it meaningful. The process will take a long time. I’m not really sure what the next step will be. I’d rather concentrate on the current project[.]

Here's a link to the admittance of guilt.

Badassvertising : Domestic Abuse Public Service Announcement

2009-10-15T00:22:00.000-04:00

Again, something disturbing that I find to be hilarious.VIA Larocca

Japanese Sniper Prank or (Watch a Dude Piss Himself on TV)

2009-10-13T22:45:00.004-04:00

We all know that people in Japan are crazy. Their sexual fetishes alone leave me in disbelief. But their attempts to outdo everyone rarely shows itself as often as it does on television. Youtube Japanese commercials and you'll get thousands of examples. Almost every one of them have nothing to do with the products they're hawking and make you feel as if you just dropped 2 sugarcubes of acid and are listening to Pink Floyd - The Wall at your local planetarium. Their game shows are awesome and apparently so is their version of Candid Camera...uh...I mean Punk'd, is way awesome. They bring some guy in to interview him and then pretend to snipe (assassinate) everyone in the room.

Dude thinks he's about to be murdered. Look at the cute girl in the inset laughing her ass off. Sure he pissed himself. Guy almost has a heart attack and then they all come in and start laughing that full bodied Japanese belly laugh that most idiots do after leaving a sushi restaurant drunk as an American skunk. This prank would only work in Japan. Watch the video after the jump.

<VIA>

Ten Feet Tall on Madison Avenue or Anger Mgmt. Issues

2009-10-08T21:53:00.001-04:00

Last night I put a bunch of new stuff on my new talking iPod shuffle that I won courtesy of this new contact management site called namet.ag, and am stoked to hear the newer Grizzly Bear record, so I start shuffling through my playlists and its not recognizing my awesomely clever names. You see, the Shuffle has no viewing screen, instead it talks to you and reads your playlists. So, of all my playlists have some sort of profanity in them because I am entertained by hearing a computer swear. This is the reason I immediately become exhasperated. And then it turns into anger because I realize I can't listen to the record because I can't find it. By now the rage is swelling to the point of "punch a homeless person fury," but I soldier on, settle into T Rex and go to work. Then I realize the shuffle function isn’t working as I’m about to get off the train. I’m about to throw the iPod into oncoming traffic when the T Rex album finishes and the next album comes on. Ted Nugent – Stranglehold. And all of a sudden I feel 10 feet tall. This is the perfect jam for walking down Madison Avenue or beating your girlfriend. This is an 8 minute epic song with awesome dirt rock lyrics like,

NOW I'VE BEEN SMOKING FOR SO LONG
YOU KNOW I'M HERE TO STAY

&

YOU REMEMBER THE NIGHT THAT YOU LEFT ME
YOU PUT ME IN MY PLACE
GOT YOU IN A STRANGLEHOLD NOW BABY
YOU BETTER CROSS YOUR WAY

&

GONNA CRUISE IS A B*TCH NOW BABY
YOU KNOW YOU CAN'T DO ME 'ROUND
IF YOUR HOUSE GETS IN MY WAY BABY
YOU KNOW I'LL BURN IT DOWN

So it’s definitely for fans of the guitar. I don’t know how it compares to that dirty hippy music ( READ : FISH, WIDE SPREAD PANIC, STRING CHEESE INCIDENT or any other uber gay name you can think of...) you all like, but it’s pretty awesome. So if you all will excuse me, I’m gonna go start a fight with small mexican delivery guy from the restaurant across the street.. I’m pretty sure I can take him

The Dutchess and The Duke - Mary

2009-10-07T22:31:00.000-04:00

I rarely find any new music that turns me on anymore. Mostly because I'm a jaded bastard that is predetermined to categorize everything as sh*tty. Fortunately, there are those out there that are young and full of hope and their glass is always half full and the liquid inside is that sweet heavenly amber that us mortals call whiskey. One of those folks did me the favor of sifting through muck and turned me on to this gem of a band. He's an old fat bastard, too, so I don't feel like I should be on To Catch a Predator for listening to kiddie's music. You shouldn't either. He's a really great lyricist and the recording sounds like it's from the 70's so that's a plus. Just watch the video and put away the peanut butter. "There, there (stroking matted head of hair)....that's a good boy, mommy still loves you...shhhhhh..."

Ghana Mobile Movie Posters

2009-10-01T22:55:00.004-04:00

There are two things you should know about Ghana. they are one of the world's largest producers of cocoa and that they made the most badass movie posters in the 1980's. Seeing as 30% live below the $1.25 international poverty line (yes, in other countries you have to make enough to buy a candy bar a day to be considered middle class) no one had televisions or VCRs. Some aspiring entrepreneurs got together to take advantage of these peoples lack of candy bars and brought the movies to them. In order to promote their arrival they would hire local artists to hand paint movie posters. Most of the artists never even saw the movies as evidenced by the CUJO poster above. The results are hilarious. After the jump I've collected a few. The last one is NSFW, unless looking at a hand drawn, big breasted woman getting attacked by cats is cool at your work, if so, then please let me know where you work. It's the poster for Stephen King's Sleepwalkers, by the way and the poster gives away the awesome ending. So thanks for that, Ghana.

I forgot to mention that these posters are really expensive. This Steven Seagal poster is going for $195.00. You can buy it HERE. Yeah right, like you have a $195.

NSFW

Thanks for the link Larocca.

[VIA]

Badasses : Nerd Post 171 Best Wikipedia Posts and Categories

2009-09-29T22:27:00.004-04:00

A loony bookmarks 4,200 articles on Wikipedia. Sorts through them all and posts top 171. Other loonies chastise him, add to list and calculate said time to compile said list. (1 minute per article, 70 hours total) and here's what he got. It's pretty badass. Henceforth, he's a badass. Click through for the list and waste the rest of the day. From Something Awful.

INDIVIDUAL ARTICLES
1 Marree Man 7.8
2 War Plan Red 7.4
3 Vela Incident 7.2
4 Tybee Bomb 7.2
5 United States Numbered Highways 7.1
6 Wow! Signal 7.1
7 Tube Bar Prank Calls 6.9
8 Kola Superdeep Borehole 6.8
9 Back to the Future Timeline 6.8
10 Year Without a Summer 6.8
11 K Foundation Burn a Million Quid 6.8
12 Sokal Affair 6.8
13 Blue Peacock 6.7
14 Veerappan 6.7
15 Person From Porlock 6.7
16 Eternal Flame 6.6
17 U.S. Color-Coded War Plans 6.6
18 The Wedge (Border) 6.6
19 Mohave Phone Booth 6.5
20 Stanislav Petrov 6.5
21 Valery Sablin 6.4
22 The Man on the Clapham Omnibus 6.4
23 Special Atomic Demolition Munition 6.4
24 Piracy in the Strait of Malacca 6.3
25 Prometheus (tree) 6.2
26 Zone of Alienation 6.2
27 Fan Death 6.2
28 Outlawries Bill 6.2
29 Raymond Robinson (Green Man 6.2
30 Scoville Scale 6.2
31 Kardashev Scale 6.2
32 Larry Walters 6.1
33 Joshua A. Norton 6.1
34 Fabergé egg 6.1
35 Issei Sagawa 6.1
36 Joseph Jagger 6.1
37 Traumatic Insemination 6.1
38 James Joseph Dresnok 6.0
39 Ivy League Nude Posture Photos 6.0
40 Jim Corbett (Hunter) 6.0
41 Just-World Phenomenon 6.0
42 Nicholas Bourbaki 6.0
43 Humanzee 6.0
44 Old Man of the Lake 6.0
45 Alexamenos Graffito 6.0
46 Fairy Chess Piece 5.9
47 Michael Fagan Incident 5.9
48 ETAOIN SHRDLU 5.9
49 Palomares Hydrogen Bomb Incident 5.9
50 As Slow as Possible 5.9
51 Bouvet Island 5.9
52 Joshua Milton Blahyi 5.9
53 Centralia, Pennsylvania 5.8
54 The Black Book 5.8
55 Tehachapi Loop 5.8
56 Arbre du Ténéré 5.8
57 Hiroo Onoda 5.8
58 If by Whisky 5.8
59 Peaceful Nuclear Explosions 5.8
60 Planned Shrinkage 5.7
61 Predictions of Soviet Collapse 5.7
62 Clause IV 5.7
63 Marvin Heemeyer 5.7
64 Two Cunts in a Kitchen 5.7
65 Octopus Wrestling 5.7
66 Cliff Young 5.6
67 Sylvestre Matuschka 5.6
68 Gustave (Crocodile) 5.5
69 Leatherman (vagabond) 5.5
70 Saddam Hussein's Novels 5.5
71 Battle cry 5.4
72 Doomsday Argument 5.4
73 Egg of Columbus 5.4
74 Technical Tap 5.4
75 Martial Races Theory 5.4
76 Buffalo buffalo… 5.4
77 Cherubina de Gabriak 5.3
78 Hapax Legomenon 5.3
79 Descent From Antiquity 5.2
80 Graham's Number 5.2
81 Laconia Incident 5.2
82 Margaret Hogg 5.2
83 Richard C. Weaver 5.2
84 Casu Marzu 5.2
85 Bummer and Lazarus 5.2
86 Rochom P'ngieng 5.2
87 Russell's Teapot 5.2
88 Bloody Island (Mississippi River 5.2
89 Lion-Eating Poet in the Stone Den 5.2
90 Oak Island 5.2
91 Norwegian Rocket Incident 5.1
92 Brian Douglas Wells 5.1
93 Flag of Bikini Atoll 5.1
94 Iron Pillar of Delhi 5.1
95 Shades of Death Road 5.1
96 Caste-Related Violence in India 5.0
97 Wild Bill Hickok-Davis Tutt shootout 5.0
98 Higest Unclimbed Mountain 5.0
99 Lady Be Good (aircraft) 5.0
100 Ideal German Campaign 5.0
101 Leck Mich Im Arsch 5.0
102 Atomic Bomb Go Game 4.9
103 Paris 1968 4.9
104 Dioxippus 4.9
105 Fleet in Being 4.9
106 Frontier Thesis 4.9
107 Gaëtan Dugas 4.9
108 Color of the Bikeshed 4.8
109 Burst of Joy 4.8
110 Four Dead in Five Seconds Gunfight 4.8
111 Cymothoa exigua 4.8
112 Harry K. Daghlian Jr 4.8
113 Kinetic Bombardment 4.8
114 Vasili Arkhipov 4.8
115 Jerimoth Hill 4.8
116 Yukio Mishima 4.8
117 Tom and Eileen Lonergan 4.8
118 Royal Fish 4.8
119 George P. Burdell 4.7
120 Cincinnati Subway 4.7
121 Dugway Sheep Incident 4.7
122 Lichtenberg's Avertissement 4.7
123 Drake's Plate of Brass 4.6
124 Hansa Carrier 4.6
125 Lace Car 4.6
126 Atari Video Game Burial 4.6
127 Blood in the Water Match 4.5
128 Cowboy 4.5
129 Degree Confluence Project 4.5
130 Lp0 on Fire 4.5
131 1973 National Archives Fire 4.4
132 Baldwin Street, Dunedin 4.4
133 Blood-Vomiting Game 4.4
134 P = NP Problem 4.4
135 Tree That Owns Itself 4.4
136 Cadaver Synod 4.4
137 Stagger Lee 4.4
138 Three Whom God Should… 4.4
139 Lake Woebegon Effect 4.3
140 Champawat Tiger 4.2
141 Minor Scale 4.2
142 Dunning-Kruger effect 4.2
143 Gaslighting 4.2
144 Lead Masks Case 4.2
145 Perfidious Albion 4.2
146 Aokigahara 4.2
147 Height of Land Portage 4.1
148 Martha Mitchell Effect 4.1
149 Ashley's Hundred 4.1
150 Dead Hand (nuclear war) 4.1
151 Man Singh (dacoit) 4.1
152 And you are lynching Negros 4.0
153 Brfxx...116 4.0
154 Locus Amoenus 4.0
155 Lloyds Bank Coprolite 4.0
156 David A. Johnston 3.9
157 Leopard of Rudraprayag 3.9
158 Adolf Lu Hitler Marak 3.9
159 Aron Ralston 3.9
160 Boot Monument 3.9
161 Mise En Abyme 3.9
162 Larry Mattlage 3.8
163 Mel's Hole 3.8
164 Eric Moussambani 3.6
165 Baghdad Battery 3.5
166 Corinthian Leather 3.5
167 Mount Yamantaw 3.4
168 Atacama Desert 3.2
169 Anaconda Smelter Stack 3.1
170 Air New Zealand Flight 901 3.0
171 Bear JJ1 2.8

CATEGORIES AND LISTS
1 List of Cognative Biases 8.2
2 Narratology 7.8
3 Military Strategy 7.8
4 Stock Characters 7.7
5 List of People Who Have Disappeared 7.6
6 List of Military Nuclear Accidents 7.5
7 Mysterious People 7.4
8 List of Fatal Bear Attacks in N. America… 7.4
9 List of Military Tactics 7.4
10 List of Massacres 7.3
11 Cognative Biases 7.3
12 Stock Characters 7.2
13 Hoaxes 7.2
14 List of Numbered H'ways in the U.S. 7.2
15 List of Extremely Hazardous Substances 7.2
16 List of Famous Trees 7.1
17 The Thirty-Six Dramatic Situations 7.0
18 List of Heroic Stock Characters 6.9
19 List of Paradoxes 6.9
20 List of Largest Non-Nuclear Explosions 6.9
21 List of Places Blurred Out On Google Maps 6.8
22 Plot Devices 6.7
23 Exploration 6.7
24 Paradoxes 6.5
25 List of Memory Biases 6.5
26 Ship Types 6.5
27 Rhetorical Techniques 6.4
28 Logical Fallacies 6.4
29 List of Fatal Wolf Attacks 6.4
30 Rules of Thumb 6.4
31 Extreme Points of the World 6.3
32 Gestures 6.3
33 List of Rainbow Codes 6.3
34 Semantics 6.2
35 List of Poisonings 6.1
36 List of American Defectors in the Korean War 6.1
37 List of Statues of Lenin 6.1
38 Controversies 5.9
39 List of Explorers 5.9
40 List of Self-Contradicting Words in English 5.9
41 Nuclear Tests 5.8
42 Motif of Harmful Sensation 5.6
43 Word Play 5.5
44 List of Deaths on Eight Thousanders 5.5
45 Phantom Islands 5.4
46 List of Camouflage Patterns 5.3
47 Indian Castes 5.1
48 Modern Street Gangs 5.0
49 Phrases 5.0
50 Bible Errata 5.0
51 English Words With Uncommon Properties 4.6
52 List of Unusual Personal Names 4.6
53 Unsolved Problems 4.4
54 American Old West Gunfights 4.1
55 Nuclear Warfare 4.1
56 Chord Progressions 4.0

From Something Awful

For another Wikipedia list that shows Non-Wikiedia websites look HERE.
For other lists check out 7 reasons why Crispin Glover is Awesome HERE.

Matt Damon Makes Adrian Grenier Look Like A Bitch

2009-09-25T19:17:00.002-04:00

I think most people agree Matt Damon is one of the cooler movie stars in Hollywood. The Jason Bourne series is totally badass. Well, here he proves he also doesn't take any shit from two bit hacks, either. He totally smacks Adrian Grenier down during a promotional taping for his charity. Although, it might be from onset footage from Entourage. Either way, it looks real!

Yo Dude, Where Was Your Dad Last Night

2009-09-24T16:51:00.006-04:00

This is why you don't let the crackheads sing at a funeral. It's pretty impressive that the only words he knows TO the song he "sings" are in the f*cking title. Nice going, jackass. Way to represent. Wait for 2:10 where he puts the soul in soul plane. I'm sure this is what Whitney's funeral is gonna sound like.

If you liked this post, you should check out, Yo Dude, Where Was Your Mom Last Night.

Fat Kids Getting Hurt Video Montage

2009-09-23T17:01:00.005-04:00

This is a pretty good one...for more Fat Kids videos, go HERE.

BadAssvertising : "And Hispanic People, Too!"

2009-09-23T14:57:00.004-04:00

Thanks, Larocca.

Kevin Smith Talks About Tim Burton/Nic Cage's Superman

2009-09-22T22:19:00.000-04:00

Kevin Smith is a funny, funny dude. Here he tells a 20 minute story about how the Death of Superman movie was squashed after years of rewriting and director hirings and firings since being started in 1994. Kevin Smith was brought on after his success with Clerks and being asked to direct Chasing Amy. Well Jon Peters was to be the producer and he wanted Kevin Smith to write it but he gave him a few conditions.
Peters wanted him to write the script so as to never see Superman in his costume (it was gay), never see him fly and to have him fight a giant spider for the finale. Oh, and he wanted their to be a gay robot in it to serve as an addition for merchandising profits. Click through for his hilarious telling of the story and all the evidence you need of why Hollywood is the biggest bunch of dumbasses of any industry or evidence of what someone who does entirely too much blow might think.

Kevin went ahead with a few rewrites of the script and then Tim Burton came in. Needless to say, he wanted a different script by his own team of writers. Kevin was canned, Nicolas Cage signed on, the movie was then put on hold after both Burton and Cage quit and was finally put to rest some years later. Needless to say, this would've been one of the biggest pieces of shit in Hollywood history.

Jon Peters

VIA

World's Douchiest Douche Sings Douchiest Song

2009-09-17T20:03:00.001-04:00

This is Daniel Madelone. He is a "stuntman turned songwriter." After the jump is the video for his song, "America We Stand As One." He is from New Jersey and the video is f*cking awesome. And when I say awesome I mean the biggest piece of shit in history. This is the reason why everyone hates us. Well that and New Jersey. Click through for video, lyrics and links.

Drawn by Jon, Age 8

From Maddox aka the bestpageintheuniverse.com

"The premise: I can draw better, spell better, and run faster than your kids. So being that my skills are obviously superior to those of children, I've taken the liberty to judge art work done by other kids on the internet. I'll be assigning a grade A through F for each piece:

Ding Ding! Here comes the shit-mobile. I've never seen a fire truck that needed to be shaved. I would rather be burned to death than be saved by this hairy piece of shit.F"

Sorry Jon, Daniel Madelone has got you beat. But don't fret, I'm sure he's been doing things shittily for about 40 years longer than you. You have to check out his website. It's horrible too.

Daniel's Webpage

Ernie Anastos Gives Kanye West Sound Advice : "Keep F*cking That Chicken!"

2009-09-16T22:01:00.000-04:00

Click to Enlarge.

I have no idea what this even means apart from the obvious. I'm sure it will turn into a catchphrase for jackasses everywhere.

Son: Daddy, I can't play the guitar...my fingers aren't big enough.

Father: Son, I'll tell you what my father told me, don't ever say "can't," no matter what...you gotta keep f*cking that chicken!

But in a normal news segment from the beloved Fox News, Ernie Anastos makes a strange comment following a weather report and then bellows the piece of advice that leaves his co-anchor baffled. Maybe the weatherman was actually f*cking a chicken. That would be interesting. I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of Chicken Gate soon enough. Look forward to hearing PETA's comments on chicken f*cking! Click through for the clip.

For more badass posts about chicken (yes I just typed that...) go HERE.

from Gawker

Kseniya Simonova : Ukraine's Got Talent Winner

2009-09-14T20:01:00.014-04:00

Kseniya Simonova, definitely out of your league.

Talk about hot chicks doing cool things. Watch this and fall in love with Kseniya Simonova. She does what they call sand animation. Definition from Wikipedia:

A type of performance art where the artist creates a series of images using sand, a process which is achieved by applying sand to a surface and then rendering images by drawing lines and figures in the sand with one's hands.

As a contestant on Ukraine's got talent, it's obvious that she did something cute and pretty to make the judges laugh. No, we're talking about the Ukraine. Her story is of the Ukranian Massacre where Polish soldiers murdered Ukrainian civilians in the eastern village of Pawlokoma in March 1945 as revenge for the Ukrainians killing about 10 Poles. The internet says it's of Germany conquering Ukraine in the Second World War. Whatever, it's as elegantly told as she is beautiful. Oh yeah, she won, of course, but only a measly $125,000. That song you hear that you think you know but you know you don't know shit about classical music? Well, don't think you're some type of renaissance man. That's Apocalyptica (you don't know) doing Metallica's (you do know), Nothing Else Matters. Her video and pics after the jump.

For another hot chick doing cool things on America's Got Talent, check out Lilia Stepanova. Now she's not American but it didn't stop Hasselhoff from ogling her. The post is HERE.

VIA

Roger Federer is a Badass

2009-09-13T20:47:00.000-04:00

Rambo 5 : Science Fiction Thriller! WTF?

2009-09-10T23:04:00.000-04:00

This is insane. Rambo must be suffering from dementia. Apparently he forgot he's Rambo and not Arnie Scwartzy from Predator. He is supposed to be slaughtering whichever bad guys America's political regime is currently at war with. Which, last time I checked, there are no healthcare insurance companies remotely fucking close to the Arctic Circle!

Check out the synopsis after the jump!

John Rambo could track anyone - or anything - on earth. Now the military desperately needs him for a mission that his ultrasensitive instincts tell him he should refuse. A beast is loose somewhere north of the Artic Circle. It has already decimated a secret research facility and annihilated a squad of elite military guards. And the raging creature is headed south toward civilization, ready to wreak bloody devastation.

It's a job that Rambo and his 22-year-old hunting partner, Beau Brady, can't turn down, but they and a team of highly-skilled special forces kill team discover that the prey is a terror beyond their wildest imagination - a half-human abomination created by a renegade agency through a series of outlawed genetic experiments. It has man's cunning, a predator's savageness, and a prehistoric power that has transcended the ages. And even if Rambo and Beau survive its unrelenting hunger for human blood, they'll still have to confront the grim reality that it may have grown immortal.

via Horror-Movies

Google Super Sizes Home Page, Nerds Everywhere Lose their Shit

2009-09-10T22:03:00.000-04:00

Click for original size.

Google made their search box about 20% larger and increased their font size by a hair, thereby securing them a stranglehold on the senior citizen porn search engine market. So, of course, the internet is full of chatter demanding for a reverse to the old ways. These assholes have complained since the beginning, but Google has came along way since the original design. Click through for a pictorial evolution of Google all the way back to day one.

Original Prototype (Nov 11, 1998) hosted on Stanford University servers.

Moves off Stanford servers. (Dec 2, 1998)
Drops exclamation mark and add links to government searches. (Nov 6, 1999)

Starts bragging. (Nov 29, 1999)

Allow for easy adding of Google buttons to websites. (Mar 1, 2000)

Learns new languages. (May 10, 2000)

Hit over a billion webpages to search from. Brags some more. (July 11, 2000)

Ads AdWords. (October 27, 2000)

Starts offering dumb slogans each day. (March 31, 2001)

Tribute to 9/11 homepage. 6 days after 9/11. Their design dept. is FAST.

Clear off the crap. (November 27, 2001)

Adds Google News. (October 1, 2002)

Tabs to links and adds Froogle. (March 25 2004)

Throws up Picasa. (July 17, 2004)

Hurricane Katrina page. (September 2, 2005)

They turn 7 years old. (September 27, 2005)

Google learns how to write Arabic. (October 12, 2207)

Google

Lingerie Football League debuts With Slutty Awesomeness

2009-09-08T19:34:00.007-04:00

Chicks in sportsbras and bikini bottoms. No field goals, no punts and no clothes. Sounds like magic. It is. The often blogged about league finally had it's debut this Labor Day weekend. And unlike other powder puff football leagues, this one is tackle. And bitches hit each other. I have yet to see the footage but I tend to think that based upon the recorded conversations from the wife in the Blagojevic Scandal, women in Chicago are used to being hit, and therefore, the know how to hit back.

As evidenced by the above photo, apparently tackling by pulling down one another's panties is encouraged and I doubt this will have a hard time gathering a a respective sports bar pay-per-view following. Some of these girls are really hot.

Great slogan. The debut resulted in the Chicago Bliss beating the Miami Caliente 29 - 19. More details, pics and videos after the jump. Oh yeah, and Mike Ditka has an ownership in the league. But, you knew he was awesome already.

In case you care about the rules, they are different than men's football. If not, skip to the pics...

Play style is full-contact and similar to other indoor football leagues. Uniforms consist of helmets, shoulder pads, elbow pads, knee pads, sports bras, and shorts.

There are no field goals and no punts. There is a kickoff to start the game and second half.[1] A team must attempt to get a first down on every fourth down. After a touchdown, a team can attempt a one-point conversion from the two yard line, or a two-point conversion from the five-yard line.

There are seven women on each side of the 50-yard field, the same as the Continental Indoor Football League, but one less than the eight players usually found in arena football or other indoor leagues. Teams consist of 18 players, only 12 of whom are active on game day. This means that there are usually 3 or 4 players who play both offense and defense.

The standard offensive formation features 1 quarterback, 2 running backs, 1 center, and 3 wide receivers. The standard defensive formation features 2 defensive linewomen, 2 linebackers, 2 cornerbacks, and 1 safety.

The field is 50-yard between end zones, 30 yards wide, and the end zones are 8 yards deep, roughly the same as other indoor leagues. [2]

A game consists of two 15-minute halves, separated by a 12-minute halftime. In the event of a tie, an 8-minute sudden-death overtime is played.

From the initial idea with wardrobe malfunctions and commentary by Jenny McCarthy, Cindy Margolis and some douche that annoys me like Ryan Seacrest, fast forward to 4:39 to find its target market...

Pics VIA 1 2 3

FOR THE LEAGUE HOMEPAGE HERE

CHOOSE TWO

2009-09-03T16:32:00.008-04:00

CLICK THROUGH FOR THE ANSWER!

My bad...I forgot to tell you it was a tetrahedron.

Adapted from Reddit.

Thanks.

Tsimfuckis Juggalo : Yet another Reason Why Black People Hate White People

2009-09-03T11:49:00.008-04:00

Tsimfuckis : Juggalo 4 Life

This shit is bizarre. I guess Juggalos do come in all shapes and sizes. This one in the dwarf weirdo size. No, I'm no hating on Tsimfuckis for suffering from progeria, I'm hating on him for acting like a wigger jackass on YouTube. I mean as far as progeria goes, most sufferers die by the age of 10, this idiot is 16. So I guess he's got that going for him. These damn Juggaloes, just when you think you've seen the weirdest they got, they give you this. Click through for his videos addressing "all the haters out there that say (he) has a penis coming out my f*ckin' stomach. F*ck y'all!" Yeah, he says that. Lots of pics too.

Read all about Tsimfuckis on his own Encyclopedia Dramatica page. (Encyclopedia Dramatica is Wikipedia for all things 4Chan.) On his page they speculate as to how he was conceived:

"One theory on this beast's conception was that its parents had sex on top of a barrel of industrial toxic waste while smoking a cocktail of crystal meth, crack cocaine and fertilizer, and eating copious amounts of Nerf. This seems like the most unlikely theory since ingesting serious amounts of drugs during pregnancy still could not create an ugly little thing like that...unless it was the Nerf. "

People say he's dead, but his Facebook page says otherwise.

To learn all about the backstory on the bullshit Tsimfuckis starts spewing at the end, check all the older posts on Juggalos. Be sure and read the comments, Juggalos HATE me. ALL JUGGALOS POSTS

Marky Mark Workout Video

2009-09-02T11:05:00.005-04:00

Marky Mark : Kizzee! You Pig! What are you doin?
Kizzee: What? I'm eating some grub
Marky Mark : What are you doin?
Kizzee: I'm eating some grub! (says with mouth full) Can't I eat some grub?
Marky Mark : What are you eatin?
Kizzee: I got all the groups here.
Marky Mark : This is a fitness video.
Kizzee: Your fitness video. Whats the difference between me eating this (huge plate of sub sandwiches and you eating that? (points to nothing)
Marky Mark : Come on, I got a nutritionist I want to introduce you to.
Kizzee: What's he gonna tell me that I don't already know?
Marky Mark : THAT YOUR A PIG! POW!

Classically Funky! Click through to watch him do what he does best. What is that you might ask? BE A BADASS! THAT'S WHAT!

Thanks for the link, Larrocca!

GHETTO GOURMAND : INVOLTINI DI CARNE ALLA MUMBLES

2009-09-01T22:47:00.004-04:00

Don't fall asleep with your stove on, Sucka!

Starting a new segment today regarding cooking. I learned when I first moved to New York that I was way too poor to eat at any of the top shelf restaurants that this city is known for. And because food is such a staple of conversation as well as indicator of breeding/culture, if you're 30 years old and you only eat pizza/McDonald's every day, your prospects for gettin laid are probably pretty slim. If you were like me, you probably are pretty broke, even more so now than before. Ladies love to eat, so unless you want to drop at least a bill on dinner, get a couple of bottles of wine prepare to wow her with your culinary skills. This segment, Ghetto Gourmand, will take a fancy recipe, usually having a foreign name and cut out all the expensive ingredients and substitute regular cheap shit you can find at any supermarket to produce a dish that will definitely keep your lady marinating all night. Before we get to the details, a few life pointers to turn you into a Ghetto Gourmand:

Step One : Watch Top Chef

Step Two : Find 2 or 3 simple dishes and make them often until you can make them well while drunk.a> This is important, cause if you are reading this blog, you will probably be in this state often. For a start, begin here. 101 Badass Simple Recipes from the NY Times

Step Three : Talk about what you have made. People will be full of all types of suggestions as to how to improve your dish and what you did wrong. Although they only offer these to show that they are superior to you, remember them, cause they are probably giving away there best shit for free.

Step Four : Try a new dish every month.

Step Five : If you don't understand a technique, look it up on YouTube. I use it all the time.

After a year, you will notice a considerable difference in your cooking. However, because there has been no change in your considerable drinking, don't be surprised to not only find the sordid mess that is your apartment, but also the disaster is now your kitchen. It is not rare for me to drunkenly declare something along the lines of "I make the best f*cking chicken fried steak in New York City!" At 1 am. which will explain the rail of flour from the kitchen to your bedroom. Sitting right next to the pool of vomit/urine. Whichever is your drunken excess of choice.

Last night I decided to make something I have never made before but have tasted before. This is important. You shouldn't try something you haven't tasted. It's hard to determine what you did wrong when you screwed it up. So for the step by step recipe with many photos, click through to start your foray into the world of the Ghetto Gourmand and the recipe that I call, INVOLTINI DI CARNE ALLA MUMBLES.

As I said, we're gonna keep these recipes cheap. The limit I have placed on myself is $20.00. Heres the receipt as proof.

Now for a brief review of the ingredients.

5 or 6 slices of Round Steak or London Broil (some places even have it labeled braccioli)
6 New Potatoes (you don't have to peel these)
1 head of garlic
1 bottle of red wine (Cabernet Sauvignon is what I use, and usually Australian, more on this later)
1 package of mushrooms
Fresh Sage and Rosemary
1 large shallot
Beef stock (if you use the liquid type as shown in the pic below get low sodium, the bouillion cubes are much cheaper, but I like the liquid better)
Bacon, prosciutto is better, but the shit is expensive
A slice of provolone for every slice of meat you have
Wax paper or Saran wrap
Flour, cornstarch or Bisto
Toothpicks
Olive Oil

Prep all your ingredients as shown below. notice there is one large bulb of garlic finely sliced in the top left. These are for your meat. The remaining whole bulbs are for your potatoes

Lay a sheet of your wax paper down under your meat. Make it big enough so you can move the meat across three time before laying down another. It will get beat to hell by the rather unorthodox method of thinning I use and it makes prep time faster if you don't have to keep tearing out another one all the time.

Lay another one the same size to cover it.

Take your wine bottle, upright in hand and beat the shit out of it slowly but forcefully starting at the edges and work your way to the middle. It should be at least 1.5X larger than when you started, 2X is the best, but I'm lazy.

1.5X bigger.

Drizzle a small amount of your olive oil so your herbs stick to the meat. Spread it with your fingers to cover one side of the meat. Resist the urge to do what you normally do when your fingers are covered with any type of lubricant. REMEMBER there is a lady present. Stick said lubed fingers in the lady's ear. They LOVE this. It shows them you are playful in the kitchen and not a maniac after watching severely beat slabs of meat for the past ten minutes.

Sprinkle rosemary, thyme and pepper.

CUT THE BACON LIKE SO!

PLACE CHEESE LIKE SO!

Yeah, remember that shit you usually eat? I said pizza and Mickey D's? Well throw Taco Bell in there too and roll it like a burrito. This will probably be the only step you don't f*ck up, so relish it. Use toothpicks to help secure it. You don't want the cheese melting in the pan, if it does, it's okay, but do your best, lackey.

Place pan on medium high heat. Let it get really hot, then place a couple of teaspoons of olive oil in it. Let it heat. When you can roll the pan and the oil flows freely in any direction let it sit for about 30 more seconds and you are ready to go. Sear the top first till it gets brown as shown below, do the same for the bottom. I use tongs then to stand each roll up and sear the folded portion of the roll a bit. Not necessary, but it works to maintain the hold for the 20 - 30 minutes it will be sitting in the broth and wine.

Remove the rolls from the pan and let it sit. This will help them congeal as well as produce juices. You want this for your sauce. The stuff you see in the pan below is a collection of meat dripping, cheese and oil. We're gonna use this. Turn the heat down a bit. Should still be at about medium heat now.

Throw in garlic and shallots. Disperse them evenly but keep them sitting on the part of the pan that is directly above the flame. Once they are evenly separated, don't stir them, let them sit in place for a bit.

Once the start to get translucent, push them to the outside of the pan. There is much less heat here, they will essentially stay warm but it will keep them from burning. Oh and those sweet juices will keep melding with the oil. Your guest should be burning with hunger by now. It should smell awesome in your apartment, providing you've bathed in the past few days. offer her another glass of wine and tell her this story.

"A lot of people talk shit about the synthetic cork (the lower grade Australian wines almost always have these) but Yellowtail is the number one imported wine in America a lot of this has to do with the fact that America has a lot more winos than it used to due to the huge layoffs on Wall Street, but hey, at least I have a job! (this reminds her that you are gainfully employed) Wine snobs argue that the synthetic cork serves only as a plug. It does nothing to tell the connoisseur of the ageing of the flavors of the wine. They argue that synthetic corks are not good for wine that's consumed after being stored for five years. And to that I say, "Eat a dick!" (don't say that, say some thing like Sacre Bleu!, it sounds classier, continuing on...)

When's the last time you had a bottle of wine in your house for more than five years? Never? Yeah, me either. Shit tastes good right, baby? And the food smells good? That's right. Play DJ, darling, Daddy can't let the garlic burn."

Place the carrots in the center first. These take longer to cook, so do as I say and spread them evenly.

Now the mushrooms, lay them on TOP. Don't mix them in. You are gonna cover this so they will sweat and wilt.

Probably 10 minutes of cooking to get them to this stage.

Now pour half of a cup of wine, maybe 3/4 of a cup. It has to reduce to half of what it started at. Cover the bottom of the pan liberally. Heat should still be at medium. REMOVE COVER FOR THIS STEP.

When it has reduced, should be about 10 minutes or so, add beef broth, probably a cup or so. You want it to come up to half the height of the rolls and place them back in the pan now. Put rolls on center of heat source and nestle the vegetables around it like so.

Let this cook for about 20 or 30 minutes. While this is happening, quarter your potatoes and place them in cold water so they don't turn brown from the air. Cook sauce until it starts to reduce and thicken. Remove the rolls when it thickens and turn heat to low.

You should have filled your pot for the potatoes with water and salted it liberally, 2 or 3 tablespoons of salt, covered it and brought it to boil on high heat while sauce was thickening. It should come to a boil right about when sauce thickens. PLACE POTATOES AND GARLIC IN NOW, NOT BEFORE. Keep it half covered to maintain high heat but do so to prevent it from boiling over. It should cook for about ten minutes. When you can stick a knife in the pieces and pull them from the water, if they fall off from the weight of the potato, they are done. Remove from water immediately and strain, because they'll keep cooking. You don't want to screw up your best chance of seeing ANY action from mealy potatoes. TRUST ME.

Cooking requires you to do a bunch a shit at the same time, so while the potatoes are cooking, you should be working your sauce. You want it thick. When you put a spoon in it, you should have a thick coating of it left on after removing it. A millimeter or so. I thickened mine with Bisto. Look it up. It's the easiest for when you are drunk and I am almost always drunk when I decide to take a step like making a new meal. I mean you 've been working for about an hour and 15 minutes at this point (easiest way out). Flour and cornstarch works but it's easy to create clumps and a can of Bisto will last forever and lends itself to beef sauces due to it's inherent flavor. You can use it for cottage pie and other things, so it won't go to waste. Thicken your sauce, mash your potatoes and add milk and butter. Add a spoon full of butter to the sauce for the girl on the couch to the sauce. And your done.

Remove the toothpicks from the rolls that have been sitting and slice them into medallions (little circles). Plate and serve. I chose a horrible presentation method but I was wasted on cheap vodka and waxing philosophical on etymology of involtini, to volcano, to Voltaire and decided to have the rolls and sauce ERUPT from the potatoes. Bad idea. It looked like a mess. My old lady suggested a simple potatoes with sauce on one side and the rolls arranged cut side up with a drizzle of sauce. I think this is better. I hope you try it. I'm out.

RAMBO V : DONATE BLOOD

2009-08-30T23:28:00.003-04:00

What Rambo looks like now...
If you paste his head on Kim Jong Il's naked body, that is.

[UPDATE : Variety pulls their heads out of their asses and confirms what I told you about a year ago. Post, plot lines and spoilers after the jump!]

WTF? Rambo 5? Hollywood finally pulled their heads out of their asses and is starting to make real movies again! Enough of that arty, cutsie, love bug movies! I want some blood! And so does Rambo, cause he's like 80 and is in need of dialysis twice a day...

Rambo V will focus on him wheeling himself around and pitifully asking, "Donate blood to a war veteran? Donate blood, please sir?" It will be reality TV at its worse. And 2 hours long. And you have to pay $11.50 to see it. Hey, but at least they didn't have to pay Stallone to write another winner of a script!

[SPOILER ALERT: Rambo dies at the end! What you think anyone is gonna pay attention to a B-List has been long enough to donate blood? Gimme a break people, this is Hollywood!]

I like to think back when Rambo was awesome. Taking a gander at the Rambo death chart helps do that, even though it reminds me that Rambo only killed one person in the first one. Don't believe me? Click through for the stats.

Confirmation via Variety

30 AFTER 30

2009-08-27T23:17:00.005-04:00

NOW WITH VIDEO

Yesterday I told you that it was a friend's birthday and posted a video of BIRFDAY DRUNK in the Ukraine. I decided it was be fun to take said friend/guinea pig to an all you can drink birthday bar in Manhattan called CheapShots. It's as classy as it sounds. Almost any early afternoon of the week you can find a man who gets wheeled into the bar in his chair by his large black male nurse, proceeds to get Navajo knackered and then wheeled back to his apt to piss his bed. The nurse drinks too. They do this every day. I didn't see him there yesterday so maybe he died.

So anyways, because I'm a cheap bastard I took my friend, Forrest there. All I had to do is pay his tip. And him being a guy who likes to get his money's worth, he decided to see how much he could drink (he was going for 30 drinks and just turned 30, hence the title) and I decided to document the whole thing with a camera. You know, for history's sake. The number in each photo is representative of what drink it was, my camera angles got a little unsteady as the night went on so I've done the counting so you don't have to. So here we go, all the photos and video after the jump.

I got a new camera and accidentally left the posterization on. Sorry, the rest aren't like this. Look at how happy and pretty he looks. He won't stay this way for long.

Alcohol Warning #1 : Excessive consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe that others are laughing with you. That's the bartender Jen. She sees this everyday. She's definitely laughing at you.

This is the only photo I missed.

Alcohol Warning #2: Excessive alcohol consumption may lead you to believe that you are smarter and better looking than most people. You're not, that's why you're going to try and drink 30 cocktails/shots and let me photograph it. Right.

Alcohol Warning #3: Excessive alcohol consumption may lead to the illusion that you look cooler than you are. This will be the first of 5,000 photos of the guy on the right. Because i'll be referring to him later on, let's make up a name for him. How about...Fusco? Sound good? Okay. He must have showed up drunk.

This guy just looks like a bear but he's actually straight.

This guy? Naw, he's really a bear. For definition, see link above.

Alcohol Warning #4 : Excessive alcohol consumption may reveal that you ARE A CREEPY WEIRDO.

Let's play a game, it's called "Where's Fusco." Yeah, game over.

She's holding that dollar up because that's how much she was gonna tip. Oh, wait...or was how much she charges an hour? I don't remember, this is about when it started to get hazy.

Yep. Him again. See how small that shot glass is? I lobbied for banning them but after taking one of them (i think that's called a red headed slut) there was alot of bourbon in it along with some sweet liquid so at there very least I hoped it would make him throw up all over himself. Oh and get him kicked out. That's the other rule to Drink Free on Your Birthday Night, "You throw up, your gone."

Apparently there was a reason Fusco was in all the pictures. Because at this moment Fusco was hearing "Ifuckinloveyousomuchman" whispered in his right ear Or something like that.

Alcohol Warning # 5 : Other people might not think your jokes (read, insults) are not as funny as you do. I think the "1" in the middle was meant for me. I kept telling her insulting Asian jokes all night. (She's not Asian.)

Alcohol Warning #6 : Excessive alcohol consumption may lead you to believe that sticking your pinky out while you drink a 2 dollar shot in a bar called CheapShots that smells like dog piss and vomit makes you... "CLASSY." This will be one of many so watch for it, the pinky also screwed up the "holding up the finger" thing, so, way to go, jackass.

Weirdo.

He's kind of like me, his drunkeness comes in waves. He was mellow, got rowdy and now is settling into a nice smiley high. He'll come back down, don't worry.

Still up there, looking decent...

Wait, here we go, getting a little rambunctious here. Pulling random girls in too close and too tight. Notice shes not holding up a finger OR looking at the camera. Yeah, she probably didn't want to be there. I'm sure he hadn't bathed in two days at this point and smelled like 3 days of vodka sweats.

Those Asian jokes are really coming back to haunt me, huh. They must have not liked them either. Naw, just kidding. That's Elliot Kang and John Lee. They're in the picture because of one of many lies I told that evening. They think I work for the NY Post. They bought him a couple of shots of Patron. Patron is full price. Honesty is not always the best policy. Sorry, Dad.

And here it is. He's fucked up. Wearing a hat like a d-bag. Definitely not the best look for ya.

After repeatedly bashing him in the head every time he screwed up the finger count with his pinky, he finally came to grips and starting doing the opposite. Making a fist. I told him if he kept sticking his pinky out we were gonna have to take the picture over and I would run out of film before the night was over. It worked.

The bear is praising Jesus. I don't know what the others are doing.

Here he uses the middle finger to make a "1" like he was the first one to do it all night or like it's the first time he has done it in a photograph. I guess it's one of those jokes that's so funny it never gets old. Oh and look, another bear. Birfday boy must taste like honey.

He made it to 22 drinks. Not bad for three hours. To this, I give you props, Forrest. Until my birthday, that is. So the night pretty much ended there. Well, right after he crashed into a corner, tried to throw his cousin into moving traffic, told her she was a pussy and then proceeded to walk into moving traffic himself, stopping cars and attracting WAY too much attention. Then he quietly snuck off into the night never to be heard from again. Naw, he showed up to work on time and is just fine. So, in short, I guess the kids can try this one at home. I'm out.

Video courtesy of Fusco.

Birfday Drunk

2009-08-27T16:17:00.004-04:00

Tonight is a friend's birthday. All you can drink if it's your birthday. We will be somewhere under the levels of intoxication of the video above. I love Ukrainian Youtube.

Red Star Chinese Vodka : Getting Drunk on the Cheap

2009-08-26T15:35:00.004-04:00

I was drinking this at a BBQ earlier this summer and had no idea what it was. I just saw 56%, and it really didn’t taste like 112 proof. I got blitzed and the girl said it cost like 4 dollars. Needless to say, I was in love. I took a photo with my phone and brought it to a Chinese guy in our IT dept o decode. He said it was for trashy drunks and I said I know, tell me what it is, I want some. So he says its called Red Star Er Guo Tou Jiu. I know the name isn't very catchy, I don't give a shit, that’s not China's forte. Getting you plastered on the cheap, however, undoubtedly is.

So I come to work today and guess what the dude from IT dept has for me? A huge bottle or the RED STAR! So I guess now I know they are good for something!

Do yourself a favor and pick you up some of this stuff in Chinatown to ensure you get your bang on with some high class bottle swillin slut at your last BBQ of the summer. Good Luck! For another Awesome article on booze, read about Drank and Mumbles Semi Home Made Drink o'the Summer, Hawaiian Drunch (Suck it Sandra Lee!)

Photo VIA, but he don't know shit, says it tastes like gas, but shit tastes damn good to me...

STEVEN SEAGAL IS A REAL MTHAFCKIN POLICEMAN?

2009-08-24T22:09:00.000-04:00

OMG. WTF. STFU. SYP.

Steven Seagal is a real police officer???!!! and has been "doing it for 20 years between films." How the hell did I not know this?? Well A & E did. And they are now embroiled in a lawsuit that may pre-empt production with another production company called The Idea Factory. You know why? Cause someone else claimed they thought of this first! But there idea was a little different. So the judge said get the hell out of here. You know what their idea was? The same idea every kid had back in 1988!

"What would happen if you put Chuck Norris, Jean Claude Van Damme (JCVD) and Steven Seagal (SS) in a house together?"

Well, that idea has a whole lot less ass whoopin' than the kids ideas in '88, but that seems to be the only shit TV execs can come up with. Here's a better TV idea:

"What would happen if you put a band of donkeys, three Tijuana whores and a mariachi band in a house together?"

"F*ckin TV Gold! That's what!"

Anyway, the show, "Steven Seagal : Lawman" debuts on A & E in December without the JCVD, Chuck Norris part. In order to settle this lawsuit they should just combine their ideas and let them join Steve's police force and call it COPS : THE BADASS VERSION! I mean, Norris was a Texas Ranger and JCVD was a TimeCop so they are all thoroughly trained. Just saying.

During the promotional trailer, Seagal actually says, "It's not a job, it's an adventure!" Which has to be one of the gayest things ever. And by SS standards, that is pretty damn gay. Gayer than 2 dudes blowing each other. Gayer than a Jonas Bros. three-way. Gayer than Perez Hilton blowing Richard Simmons while the J Bros tag teamed him. I hope you didn't read this before you were about to eat lunch. Click through to watch the trailer.

This is not the first time I've went apeshit on Steven Seagal before. Check out Valentines Day Sucks: Steven Seagal is a World Class Douchebag for more pain.

And for the funniest episode of cops you have ever seen in your life watch this one where the cops try to chase a midget and he eludes them in a very peculiar way...

And for more posts on midgets, check out Verne "Mini Me" Troyer : Midget Masochist where I show how hot all of Mini Me's girlfriends are and they are so totally not just raping him for all his money.

Winkers : Pants For Jackasses

2009-08-19T21:17:00.002-04:00

NOT A VIDEO, STOP CLICKING IT

File this in the why didn't think of that category. Actually, don't. These are pants that make your ass looks like it's winking at people who are staring at it. It's like, everyone's going, "Hey, look at how fat that dude's ass is! Oh gross! And how ill fitting his pants are!" And your ass puts on this little smirk like when a pederast finds out his catch is even younger than he thought, chuckles and WINKS as to go, "Yeah, I know I'm awesome."

But you're not. You're a complete dumbass. This stuff had to be made by the Brits. Just had to. Some limey was sitting around in his dreary ass flat and started watching reruns of Pamela Anderson's tits bouncing around and was all, "Wanker! Wait...no...Winkers!"

And he thought they would be really big in California or something. Ahh screw it, just watch the video after the jump.

From Dlisted

Splitter 2, More Fun Than Fantastic Contraption

2009-08-17T22:20:00.006-04:00

Months ago I started a series on becoming less productive at the workplace called TIMEWASTER. I found a couple of online games that were highly addictive, my favorite being Fantastic Contraption, a game that is governed by a few basic principles of physics. Using those laws you "build" contraption designed to move a little red ball from one place to another. The newest sibling of Fantastic Contraption is Splitter 2. Instead of building contraptions you deconstruct previously designed ones to move Splitter (a little yellow circle with a smiley face) from one place to another. You can "split" wood, ropes and whatnot to use gravity and motion to achieve the required tasks. Quite fun. Perfect for August at the office.

[WARNING: Ad starts automatically, I can't remove it, it's embedded in the game, turn off sound before the jump!]

To play Splitter 2, click through....

Due to technical difficulties, I'll place a link til I figure how to have it playable in Shittynet Explorer.

PLAY IT HERE if you still have IE on your computer, although I don;t know why anyone would use such garbage!

For Fantastic Contraption, Click HERE.
For Escapa or Red Square, click HERE.

More Homemade Birthday Cards

2009-08-14T12:11:00.003-04:00

Click to Enlarge.

I made this for a co worker today. I'm not sure if got the humor. I guess he really loves lions. For more awesome homemade birthday cards, click here.

World's Most Badass Dancer

2009-08-12T18:11:00.002-04:00

Michael Jackson, Patrick Swayze, Kevin Bacon and Kenny Powers. Bow bitches. Meet your new arch-nemisis, The Lollapalooza Dance Machine! This dude has so many moves, he never even needs to recycle one. The Ground Puncher, the Bicycle Kick, The Desk Elbow, The Flamingo, the list just goes on and on. Click through for the most hilarious thing you will see today.