Eat the dog

The chant was so unison it was almost one voice.

 It was his first band camp.

 He wanted to make new alliances, this was to be his year, he was going to be the man, he was going to get a girlfriend AND kiss her.

 And then his parents sent him to this camp.

 Now he’s in the circle, with the whole camp chanting and watching him.

 What's this going to accomplish?

 It's a team building exercise. Now you will share in their strength and share a bond that can not be broken.

 Now it’s simple, just Eat The Dog

Crackers and porn.

 The angry gods sat at the table made from the bones and skin of humans.

 They rallied and railed on the loss of devotees. What can we do? They just sit there looking at "internet porn".

 The succubus quietly brought in cheeses from all regions.

 Bloggers! Harrumphed another one.

 Yahweh stood and raised a hand. "I believe it's time for a complete reinstall."

 “Of course you would” said Zeus “you always like that. But seriously who here has the time for such a project.”

 “I do. said Satan.

 Then let Satan do it and let us see what he gets.

Old Zombies Come Back To Haunt Me

For some time my son has been harassed on FB about my where a bouts and my health

To you all I have written an open letter;

You know I was a nice guy back when. I was always agreeable. Then the scene started to hit critical mass and there was 
fractioning and cliques and little drama wars.

 Then I realized, I guess I always knew, that this was no-where’s-ville this was not a sustainable life style. 

 I remember the Tales of Terror coming back from the slavery tour and being different. I remember many friends being swallowed by their

vices and addictions. I remember going to Bedrock Bill’s funeral, you all remember that? Remember how he was found and how sad and

pathetic his family looked during the viewing and the evil “kill you where stand” looks from his mother.

 I was already starting to distance myself from it all, but I think that was the clincher. That look from his mom was a monstrous weight

heaped upon me.

 I knew my mother was insane, but I also knew I did not what her to go through that.

 I left. I kept in touch with many and lost touch with many more. I became a terrible friend to all of you eventually, but it was for the

sake and sanity of me and my future family.

 I took my family to Texas without ever telling my mother where we were. That should tell you something about my privacy and protection of

my family.

 We are different from when we were then and there is a reason we lost touch. We changed and now when we are all 40+ and staring at the

horizon of our lives we try to go back, but we cannot rewind time.

 I have changed I am a mean mother fucker I hate just about every human on this god forsaken rock spiraling into the sun.

 I have come to realize humans are evil simple fact. it is amazing that we ever evolved past the fish on the beach. By all accounts we

should have eaten each other there on the beach and had been god's failed experiment.

 That said I have a couple of things to point out;

 Jeff said, “Have to say.... John was a jerk...and a pig... with his silly rotting catbones, plus the fucker chipped my tooth... could 

say more but why bother...”

Jeff:
 You did not rule shit you acted like to the poser fag you will always be.

 I vaguely remember you talking some shit 25 years ago about some chipped tooth and I kind of remember I was not responsible but then

again I cannot clearly state I remember the whole sorted crybaby saga but I am sure you were doing something stupid to get me to do

something to chip your tooth, but then again that is the youth and the culture of today, isn’t it? It is never your fault it is the fault

of someone else.

"It was not my fault I was arrested for drinking beer in the park, it was the fault of the Chinese guy at the liquor store or the old guy

who called the cops but clearly it is not my fault for trespassing and violating ord 3.1.5.2 of the city penal code. No way, not mine, boo

fucking hoo"

 So Jeff, maybe in your little world with pink skies and purple grass, you are somebody.

 Maybe in your little world where all of your furniture is made of the scrotum skin of young men, you are important.

 You might be king shit where the maggots go to worship, you might be a prophet to the little turds in the sewer.

 But in my world you are an open festering sore on a dog’s ass. You are nothing and you do not even require a name.

 You are just simply shit, not king shit bubba douche bag. Not even bubba douche bag.

Malcom

 It was Stiv Bators not Iggy Pop that served us whiskey and as far as the penis thing well I remember hearing about you touching Iggy’s

dick while I was in jail, you cheating bastard!.

Randy:

 It was not Rats Ass, Boots and John. First of all Geoff hated the nick name boots. Second it was Rick W. myself  and Sam C. that got

arrested in the back of the club for damaging the ceiling and we three were taken off to the station.

 During our incarceration someone else fell through the ceiling onto the stage and another dip shit punter broke through the ceiling and

stole the ticket money thus corroborating our story that two others had fallen through and got away.

 If I offended some of you all, well I guess I did. If some wonder if I hate them, then I probably do, and if you want my e-mail then 
Y3d0c3RyYXlkb2dAeWFob28uY29t

 But really you zombies need to leave my son alone; he does not need friends like you I should know.

 Burn in hell, you sinners, you evil tools of satan. For one day the lord will come and you all will be cast into hell and I will be there

in all my glory kicking dirt into the hole and laughing and pointing at your misery and dismay. It will be a glorious day then too for the

lord has come to take all his children home.

I hate Mondays

I hate Mondays.

I was just having a bad Monday.
Money troubles, this weekend I had some of those “Let’s fuck with the umpire cock suckers.”
I had some Starbucks zombie try to talk on the cell phone while trying to navigate a behemoth of a urban assault vehicle, all while trying to bend the laws of physics. The dumb twit tried to occupy the same location as me in the universe at the same time.
I was passed on some training that I felt I should have been given but was not because my supervisor does not think that hourly employees are of any use or benefit.
I was just in one of those “FUCK!!, FUCKING!!!, FUCK!@!!!” moods.
I decided to go to a “Ross Dress for less” store to cheer myself up.
Why Ross?? I like the smell of the fabrics, to see what’s on sale and stuff. Also they have my picture behind the counter at ‘Vicky’s’ (Victoria’s secret). Seriously, I know because I was forced to let them take it and I made them let me autograph it.
Any ways I am in the parking lot and I see front row parking, so I slam the Ranger into the parking spot and jump out.
As I get out I see a fairly decent looking older woman and she honks at me, I wave, smile and turn to go in the store.
While I am in the back of the store touching the bras and panties, this lady starts bitching about some driving and parking spots and some other bullshit. I turn and yell’ “What?? Oh Yeah? Fuck you. You fucking cunt!”
She stops mid sentence and looks like I slapped her. Everybody in the store looks at us. So I say, “Oh I am sorry that was wrong. Let us try that again. Here, you start with being a rude fucking bitch.” Pause , “ and I will tell you how to lick my balls.” I laugh and I turn to leave before the manager comes to take my picture. Because the bras and panties are in a great location, sort of tucked in the back behind some tall racks of cotton summer dresses, and I would like to come back later next week.

It is not a sport to abuse the umpires

What has happened in our culture that has made it a sport to verbally abuse umpires??
Where and what strike zone are these bones teaching our kids.
The strike zone exists where the umpire says it does as this is a judgment call
As the ball crosses any part of the fucken plate. The written strike zone reads "a strike is called if any part of the ball enters the strike zone." And this is as just below the god-damn knees to the leading arm pit as a batter was to swing at the ball.
That word "any" means a thread, a 1/4, the black, the white, if the damn ball starts above the knee and ends in the fucking dirt.
The strike zone is not a flat plane but a 3 dimensional rectangle drawn at every pitch. And your little Xerox turd copy can duck, bob, dive back and make faces all they want but the box was drawn when the stood at the plate, and if they jump out, or duck the box bigger, I am not going to penalize the pitcher because your child can't stand in the box.
I have grandpa behind me calling pitches. I have mommies taking it personal when their kid strikes out looking (not swinging at the third strike). Believe me I hate to ring a kid up more than any umpire. I as a coach hated the backwards "K". It stood for not trying, not protecting your strike zone.
Mommies talk to your coaches and your husbands about what a proper strike zone is before you start treating me like a monster out to eat little kids. If that pitcher can consistently paint the corner of the plate a double "oh" brush with a 3" freaking ball I am going to give him his strike. And you parents can act as if I am killing kittens on field all you want, the fact remains that was a strike it had been when your pitcher was throwing the goddamn ball and it is a strike now.
And when the rule says "pitcher and catcher of record" and you are visitor and you are at the top of the 1st inning. You do not have a catcher or a pitcher yet. The rule is states of record so you can not arbitrary decide that your slowest runner is now a catcher but later you change you mind and choose another player to catch. And if the tournament director says “they can” switch means “they will allow it” not that that is the correct interpretation. "They can" means “they are allowed to”. The rule literally states "of record" which means until your player has played that position he is not that position player. AND DO NOT COME UP TO ME AFTER THE GAME TO INSURE THAT I WAS INSTRUCTED ON THE RULE!! WHAT THE FUCK YOU STUPID TURD!! THEY SAID THEY WILL ALLOW IT NOTHING more than that. Then to jump up and down insisting that I was wrong AFTER the game, is just trying to have a pissing contest. So do not be offended when I ask “why are we still having this conversation” the freaking game was over. And do you realize how retarded you looked when you yelled after me as I walked away?? HA HA HA HA man did you look stupid “We know you are going to make bad calls just know the rules?” and just about every person I came into contact with after that said "what was that coaches problem?" As I always explain it as “when you are on the short side of any score you will try and find any reason why it is not your fault.”
And to the coach about the balk, yes your boy balked, he paused on his movement to third, which I deemed a feint, regardless of his lifting and turning to first, he paused it was a feint with the foot on the rubber. I may not have explained that properly and I was a bit pissed from the last game and the opposing coach had I pissed off because he made my job harder by calling balk before I did. I am trying to slow down my calls so that my calls do not have to change because of stupid kid player crap. Like dropping the ball, over running the bag