2009: A Review

2009 was as shit as ever year that preceded it.

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Published in: on 04/01/2010 at 5:13 pm  Comments (2)  
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Bending To The Beats… (This title will be 300% funnier when you finish reading this blog.)

So my friend’s handicapped brother, let’s call him, Jack, decided he can live a normal life just like the rest of us… Making a decision like that as a handicapped person usually is quite a proud and momentous occasion for handicapped people, often it marks the end of being cared for and looked after the beginning of their own attempt or success in the field of self-sufficiency…

Now, call me cruel if you will, but I just thought it was a good excuse to get him wasted off his tits and leave him in the middle of nowhere for the lulz.

So we take him out to this club, Thompsons it’s called, a nice enough club, if you like E-heads rubbing their faces against your 100% cotton jumper for three hours. Cotton jumpers are like E-head magnets, I had like 6 of them rubbing my jumper at one point. I think one of them actually followed me home… Which is slightly worrying.

Anyway, we took our handicapped friend to a club and fed him full of Es…  And I have to tell you ladies and gentlemen… You have not seen funny untill you’ve witnessed the hilarious vision of a man with cystic fibrosis raving and dancing to pounding, pounding techno beats. I dare say it is the funniest imagery I have ever been witness to. Incase you’ve never seen a man with cystic fibrosis, off his tits on Es, dancing to techno, it looks a little like I imagine the Stretch Armstrong toy would look if you melted his arms and legs then threw him down the stairs.

Many hours later when he’d had his fill of being the only man on the dance floor, very much like a dancing version of the elephant man, he decided he wanted to go home. He was pretty off it, so we put him in a taxi and sent the taxi to Dublin…

We haven’t heard from him since… Hope he doesn’t have to walk home, I can’t imagine he’ll get too far with his legs, probably be better off walking home on his hands…

I wonder if he still thinks he can lead a normal life… I don’t think witnessing a man with cystic fibrosis walking over 60 miles on his hands is normal… Then again if he does it we may well have accidentally created the ultimate endurance sport…

…All jokes aside, if you do see a man with cystic fibrosis walking towards Belfast from Dublin do be a nice chap and pick him up, as we may or may not have sent him down there with no money… Or clothes.

Published in: on 26/11/2009 at 4:38 pm  Comments (1)  
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Some female propaganda.

I found this, apparently, it’s “27 ways to make a girl smile,” as far as I and you are concerned it’s “27 ways to friendzone yourself like a complete fucking faggot and be seen as ‘another one of the girls’ like some cockless eunich.” The original list of “27 ways to make a girl smile” or as far as I and you are concerned the “27 ways to friendzone yourself like a complete fucking faggot and be seen as ‘another one of the girls’ like some cockless eunich,” is in regular font, my changes are in italics.

1. Tell her she is beautiful (not hot, fine, or sexy)
Don’t compliment women until you’re sure you’re just about to fuck them, and even then it’s dodgy territory.

2 . Hold her hand at any moment . . . even if its just for a second.
Holding hands is for faggots.

3 . Kiss her on the forehead.
You know who kisses women on the forehead?

…Their gay friends. That’s who. Are you a gay friend?

4 . Leave her voice messages to wake up to.
Yea, that’s nice, but here’s how a man wakes up

1., wake up,
2., have a piss and a shit,
3., maybe, if you’re feeling up to it, have a wank

Note how nowhere in that list did I say “leave her a voice message like a stalker faggot with no social skills.”

5 . Always tell her you love her every second of the day.
Or, don’t say it in excess of once every 3 days and make her work for it.

6 . When she is upset, hold her tight and tell her how much she means to you.
When she is upset; get a new one; she’s broken.

7 . Recognize the small things . . . they usually mean the most.
Or, alternatively, just an idea, WHO THE FUCK CARES?

8 . Sing to her no matter how horrible your voice is.
You know who sings Barry White? That’s right, Barry fucking White, let’s keep it that way shit fuck, I don’t need to hear you woeing your walking vagina with your tone deaf bullshit.

9 . Pick her over all the other girls you hang out with.
Or ignore her when you’re with other women. Sometimes the most counter productive methods are the most effective, and by sometimes, I mean pretty much all the time, and by pretty much all the time, I mean do what I say faggot.

10 . Write her notes. (she loves them)
The only note you write in your lifetime should be addressed to your family and when you finish writing it you should take a long sip of whiskey and shoot yourself in the head in your study.

11 . Introduce her to family and friends . . . as your girlfriend.
If she actually is your girlfriend, other wise it’s weird. Actually, on second thought, if she is your girlfriend, introduce her as “some girl I met in the pub earlier,” women love an asshole.

12 . Play with her hair.
Don’t you’re an idiot, you’ll just get tangled in it and make a mess.

13 . Pick her up, tickle her, and play-wrestle with her.
Or beat her.

14 . Sit in the park and just talk to her.
Parks are for drinking and frisby, nothing else.

15 . Tell her funny jokes, tell her stupid jokes, or just tell her jokes.
Stupid jokes = goofy = friendzone, boring jokes = boring = friendzone. Jokes = dated and boring = friendzone, write an anecdote, or even better actually have a real one to tell. Then beat her.

16 . Throw pebbles at her window in the middle of the night . . . just because you missed her.
Don’t go near her house in the middle of the night, unless you’re burning it to the ground in the name of vengeance, otherwise, you’re a faggot.

17 . Let her fall asleep in your arms.
Then have sex with her.

18. Carve your names into a tree.
Then have sex with her.

19 . If she’s mad at you, kiss her.
Then rape her.

20 . Give her piggyback rides.
Don’t.

21 . Bring her flowers
Then have sex with her.

22 . Treat her the same around your friends as you do when your alone.
Don’t, your friends will think you’re a faggot, because chances are you act like a faggot when you’re alone with this bitch.

23 . Look her in the eyes and smile.
Or fuck her from behind and make funny faces.

24 . Let her take as many pictures of you as she wants.
Especially if she’s fucking you while taking pictures. You’ll need them for when you fail and get dumped.

25 . Slow dance with her, even if there isn’t any music playing.
If you’re both slow children who travel in the special bus and wear suspenders and socks up to their knees.

26 . Kiss her in the rain.
Don’t the rain is shit, it’s not romantic, it’s not French and whimsical and magical, it’s retarded and you’ll catch the cold.

27 . If your in love with her . . . tell her.
If you’re in love with her, you lost the game.

I like how initially when I started writing this I was actually trying to give real advice, since if a man does everything on this list he’ll friendzone himself after about 3 days, then after about…well… point 1 really I just started being a complete ass.

This is actually little more than a reflection on how horrifically I treat women.

I love being a complete cunt.

Man Skills Pt.I : How to survive a Tsunami

Recently, during my little excursion to Asia, I found myself being swept up by a Tsunami, while casually holding my breath for 15 minutes straight, keeping an eye out for underwater debris, and using some man’s dead fiancee and children as a human shield, I had quite some time to think about how most men are completely unknowledgeable in even the most simple tasks regarding manliness and being manly as fuck in general.

As such, I’m starting a new segment to my blogs, called “Man Skills,” let’s see if we can teach you festering wank monkeys some practical skills for the real world.

How To Survive a Tsunami.

Tsunamis are nature’s way of testing your metal as a man, you shouldn’t see them as a natural disaster, rather they’re just one of natures many little tests of your fortitude.

Mindset:
In regards to surviving a Tsunami, mindset is everything.
“Tsunami! I piss in a Tsunami!” or “Fuck everybody but myself! I’ll stitch your dead children together with banana skins and muscle tissue and use them as a life raft!” are two very good mindsets to prepare yourself with for dealing with the inevitable Tsunami.

Practical Issues: Most Tsunami prone areas will have an alert system set up to prepare people if the situation should arise, but since Tsunami’s occur usually between every 6 and 7 years and people continue to live in the same fucking area and have to continually rebuild all their shit every time nature has a hissy fit you can’t really rely on the Tsunami warning center as chances are, like everything else in the area, it’s been flattened and is filled with nothing but the bloated rotting corpses and missing peoples from the previous Tsunami.

Know The Signs: Some foreign git driving around in a shitty hatchback shouting “TSUNAMI!!” is usually a pretty good sign that your area is about to get hit by one, but like I said previously, this doesn’t always happen.

Other signs include earth tremors and earth quakes and if you’re in a coastal area you may see the ocean water recede.

People screaming random shit, women breaking down into tears (thus ruining their chances of survival) and children pissing, not only, their own pants, but yours as well, are usually also good indicators.

What To Do:
If you’re on holiday with your family, friends, or loved one then quickly asses the situation, can you gather your wife three children and wheel-chair bound uncle Albert (who when the wife isn’t around you lovingly refer to as “wheels”) with enough time remaining to haul ass into the mainland?

If the answer is no then you must again re-asses (this entire process should take between 0 and 1 seconds) who do you love most? (The answer is not uncle Albert – Trust me, he’s lived long enough.) Do you have time to get this reduced list of people and yourself to safety? If so then gather them quickly and get as far inland as you can before the Tsunami hits.

Women and children have a tendency to cry a lot when they’re faced with their mortality, so it’s generally a good idea to scream at them a lot until they shut the fuck up and let you take hold of the situation as if you were a professional ball grabber on national ball grabbing day in the Olympic ball grabbing arena.

In getting to inland, your attitude should be one of “every man for himself,” steal a car, punch a 10 year old’s ugly little face and steal his shitty rusted bike if you have to, running won’t be fast enough (unless you’re the bionic man, which you aren’t, because I am)

If you can’t get inland then your only option is to get to higher ground, (optimally you would do both). Hills, tall buildings (before going to your Tsunami prone destination you should have found out a little about the structural integrity of their taller buildings – just in case – if you didn’t and you’re sitting in the middle of a Tsunami right now on your shitty “look at me I’m a working professional” laptop reading this while simultaneously pissing all over yourself like a little girl, then I’m afraid to say that now is probably a tad too late). Wide, well-rooted trees are a good bet, but you probably shouldn’t get too hopeful as Tsunami’s are incredibly destructive and will probably just uproot it and smash you and your lovely tree into the wall of the local deli creating some Tsunami post-modernist tourist related art.

Remember, it’s not over just because you survived the first wave, if you managed to hold onto a tree or get into a high rise building, or inland, don’t stop to thank God, because he’ll probably fuck your shit up for irony’s sake by sending a second wave right up your anally retentive little God fearing ass.

Finally: If worst has come to worst and you didn’t manage to hold on, the Tsunami swept you off your feet and nature is raping you like a big burley lumber-jack raping a lost boyscout then don’t panic and don’t struggle, you’ll more than likely die, but there’s a chance that if you don’t struggle you’ll get swept back out to sea alive, where you can sit for weeks, waiting, in the hopes that somebody will rescue you as you slowly devour your own leg.

If you do manage to survive, and find yourself lost at sea, chances are finally in your favour, it’s at this stage that debris and bloated corpses of your loved ones will start popping up all over the show, use what you can find, and fashion a small boat, you can always use your dead fiancee’s skin as a mast! (It’s what she would have wanted.)

Published in: on 19/03/2009 at 1:09 am  Leave a Comment  
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Where Did All The Real Men Go?

Real men are still around but they are few and far between. Real men, are men who uphold real values, like alcoholism, being bitter, closed from their emotions, smoking, being epic and of course, being manly through the medium of all these things, violence and more.

What makes a man manly? To be honest, it can be anything, from a fabled neck breaking, “face-fuck” kick, (See Norris, Chuck), to violently and gruesomely destroying the living dead, (See Campbell, Bruce), to cutting your own arm off in order to live, (Ralston, Aron). Or even just something as simple as fighting mother nature, and God’s many creatures in drunken states (Cash, Johnny).

Manliness comes in many forms, sometimes, it comes from the simple things, in small doses, like smoking a cigarette, or drinking a beer in under 20 seconds, and sometimes it comes in big doses of vulva-kicking episodes of facial rape, like when a man fights a shark, just because he can.

Most of all though, it’s the name that says “manly.”

Names like Chuck, Bruce, Johnny, Aron, Rocky, Hunt, Rambo, Sue, Clint, Russell, “Face-fuck Al”, Tommy Gunn, Apollo Creed, Tom the rapist, and Kurt are all pretty damned manly. So what makes a name manly? Basically, a manly name sounds like a rock, type of metal, or something you use to cut somebody’s head off or shoot somebody with. Names that aren’t manly tend to sound like something two feminists, a member of Coldplay, or Britney Spears would name their adopted kid. Names like Tristan, Berty, Milton, are all pretty weak in terms of manliness.

Names that have connotations to killing or fighting tend to be pretty damned manly too, names like “Ethan Hunt,” which combines the best of both worlds, a short first name that sounds rougher than shaving with blunt rusty knives, and hunt, which implies murderous rage. Which is fucking awesome. If you can imply that you’re going to main and/or kill people, with little more than your name, you know you’re a man.

So now we know what makes a man manly, where did the “manly man” go? It’s simple, they’re a dying breed, being slowly killed off by political correctness, feminist-Neo-Nazis, over-protective mothers, crappy music, being pussy whipped, and just a complete lack of demand for heroes in society.

Political Correctness has killed off the manly man’s ability to make incredibly judgemental, apathetic, and somewhat obnoxious generalisations about religions, metro-sexualism, women, the youth, politicians and pretty much anything we’d like to make obnoxious generalisations about.

The Feminist neo-Nazi, took away the manly man’s greatest tool, his complete disregard for women and their rights. It is this fundamental aspect of being a man that makes them “manly”, it is this pure lack of a desire to care for anybody, or have them care for you, that makes a man. (See Eastwood, Clint)

Metrosexualism has destroyed the manly man’s pleasing aesthetic, a beard that looks like you just shaved with a blunt rock and used gun powder as opposed to the less manly “shaving foam”, right after fighting a bear, and a voice so gritty it could only be emulated by rubbing granite down your throat while you talk.

Children drinking in the streets have ruined the attractiveness of being a whiskey swigging cowboy, since pretty much every 12 year old in this shitty nation already drinks anyway, it’s just not cool anymore. So now real men are forced to drink paint stripper (which probably accounts partially for their decline) or move on to harder things, like heroin (see Scotland).

Over-protective mums raise their little boys to believe that if they’re just themselves women will like them. Which would work if they weren’t blubbering imbeciles who fumbled their words and said ridiculously un-manly things like, “you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You’re like a flower, only infinitely more perfect and sweet smelling.” Real men don’t act themselves in front of women, and they certainly don’t compliment them, they say things like,
“Go away woman,” and “Make me a damned sandwich,” or “Iron my shirt, bitch.”
They don’t pander to the egotistical desires of maniac women who thrive on crushing men in front of their friends just for a cheap laugh. If you’ve ever said something nice to a woman on first meeting them, you’re a fucking pussy and it’s because of people like you that men in general have become so fucking needy and weak. Grow a pair.

Women hate you, because you need them.

Crappy music has led to a decline in the manly man’s urge to kill… You can’t kill without good montage in the background, you want to know that when you kill a man using nothing more than a toothpick and a button, that you have some fucking badass music behind you. Not this fucking rap or metal bullshit. Don’t get me wrong, both can be good, but it’s just not quality killing music. The music you kill to should sound like shitting razors while vomiting anthrax all over the faces of small orphaned children.

One of the major contributing factors to the decline of “manly” men, is the lack of need for stealth/guerrilla warfare, with the creation of new weaponry that means entire cities can be destroyed at the push of a button and the turn of a key…

Remember when war was manly? When men shot out 16 rounds of lead into each other in the name of protecting their women and homeland from the enemy…

Or when they fought in a cloud of tear gas, bleeding from their pours, with people of different nations, using nothing but their fists…

We need another fucking war… But a real one, with some proper heroic “defending my homeland and family” man fighting.

Another major contributing factor, around all the others pivot around, is nut job men disregarding all that is manly in the name of peace…

First off, if you disregard man laws, you’re demoted to fucking man bitch. As such, Ghandi is a man bitch. No argument, no discussion, he just is, as decided in the court of man law held by the Miserable Bastard on this day.

Secondly, peace is for fucking queer bait Nancy boys.

Real men kill each other.

War is manly.

End of story.

Like I’ve said before, Ghandi was a pussy and probably a communist. Other weak men include but are not limited to Paul McCartney, Prince Harry, any man who’s liberal about anything.