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.

Demons From My Past

 I have been assaulted by some demons from my past. I was asked to join facebook and join some grouping of evil people.

 I have lost touch with many of them because we have nothing in common.

 I feel this is the natural progression of unhealthy relationships and poorly managed healthy ones. I have been a poor friend to many and a bad enemy to even more.

 I moved away. I have a family. This family means more to me than anything else. I will protect this family and I eat anything that threatens this family. Yes I said eat!

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

In my neighborhood #6 By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

This morning in my neighborhood the power went out at like 6 am. Thank god I was already up because I did not want to be late to work.
 I have already shaved and brushed my teeth and was about to shower when the power went out. I showered in the dark I think I know my old fat body well enough to shower in the dark. lulz
 Anyway everyone was there to fix the power. The cops had my street blocked off. The garbage men were there as it was garbage day, the cable guys were there as they had to reroute some cables and shit. The gas man was there as they felt that maybe the gas line was in jeopardy if they had to do some digging.
 Something like 50 people crowded around the manhole cover in front of my house. Only 5 of them had orange hats the rest had white.
 Pamela had come over to ask for some candles. We talked about the power being out and how the last time this happened she went to Wendy’s door for candles and the "bitch" had handed her two sticks of dynamite. I laughed at the joke, but Pam still does not find it funny.
 Rollins was screaming about living off the grid and some stupid shit like that.
 Mc Hammer was in his pajamas drinking a cup of coffee. Or maybe he was wearing a new outfit. I have the toughest time telling the difference.
 I gave Pamela some tea candles and I closed the door. I got dressed for work and thought that maybe I could get the cops and everybody to let me out of the drive way.
 I was about to leave and there was a knock on the door. It was Johnny Cash. I opened the door and he began to babble about the inconvenience of it all.
 Just the some guy poked his head out of the hole in the ground and pointed towards my house. There was a long discussion and the supervisors turned to wards my house.
 so here I have a cop, a cable guy, a telephone repairman, a gas line supervisor and construction looking dude walking up to my house.
 I totally back grounded Johnny for a minute and he knew it and turned around.
 “Damn it!” he says There are too many people to fix this shit!”
 “What” I ask
 He says, “There are too many witnesses to stop the Village People from moving in.”
 

 

Currently reading Like A Monkey With A Handgun By Rev. J. Sleestaxx Release date: By 3 December, 2007

2008 is expected to be very interesting.

On January 1st I woke up with the dogs missing the taste of dog in my mouth.
There is a big black burn mark in my front yard. Something was definitely burned there. I can not even begin to imagine.
My neighbors will not look at me in the eye and some appear to be scared when I am outside.
Part of me says this is normal and that I should not worry.
But I do worry. Where are my dogs? why do I see strange images when I close my eyes.
Today a little boy was walking to the bus stop and when he got to my property line he sprinted past my house like Satan himself was chasing him.
When the paperboy knocked on the door I went to answer. He turned pale when I opened the door. Then he started to leave and tripped and fell. I know he broke his ankle because I heard the crack.
If there was anyone there that can help fill in the gaps please let me in on the events.
I mean if there is something I did wrong I should know right?
If I offended my neighbors I should apologize right?
If I dressed in drag and roasted my dogs.... again... I need to replace them and start taking my medications and get another appointment ASAP.

Currently reading Like A Monkey With A Handgun By Rev. J. Sleestaxx Release date: By 3 December, 2007

Working Out and HR

So I am working out last night and here is the thing. During the day I do reliability testing that means I break shit expensive shit. You do not know how reliable something is until you force a failure and study the failure.
I am 235 and 42 years old.
I'm on the elliptical and I do not believe in doing things half ass.
I have the iPOD cranking out the tunes and I am on my second resistance 8 cycles
The guy next to me was just sort of moving at a slow pace. I on the other hand do not believe that
My pace should drop below 160 strides per minute. Ever!
Well he must have looked over and saw my HR at 185 cause he left and shortly an attendant came over to get my attention.
I slowed and asked hats up?
She said that she was concerned about my pace and my health.
I told that the pace she is concerned about is broken because she was interrupting me.
I told to get on the machine next to me and watch something.
She did and I cranked Ace of spades back to the beginning of the track and started my pace.
I grabbed the HR monitor and the machine calculated 174 I looked at her and she shook her head.
I winked and blew some sweat from my eye lid and began to concentrate on the HR monitor and the number began to drop
I got the number to hover at 160 and I pointed at my pace (168) which never slowed.
Then I blew on my eye again and concentrated and the monitored dropped to 157 and stayed there until the resistance dropped to 2.
My pace picked back up to 210 and my HR jumped to 163 and hovered I looked at the fresh young attendant and smiled she left and the guy.
Got back on the machine next to me.
I looked at him he looked at me we made eye contact and I mouthed "PUSSY" to him as ACDC Thunder struck started.
Black Flag White minority kicked in at the time Resistance changed to 8 and I went into full bore 174 strides and my heart jumped to 170.
I began deep breathing and concentration and the heart slowed and my pace stayed I caught the fucker looking again and I said under my breath that he should no breed because he is too stupid to pass any genes along. He said what and I laughed and leaned forward.
3 miles in 35 minutes. Not bad for an old fucking fart like me???
I am trying to find a way to post my play list from my iPOD.

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