Giving up my humanity to join the cockroaches ...

The cockroaches required a god. They came to me one night and asked that I help chose one for them. So I surfed the net till i found a picture of a donkey. I showed them the picture.

I told them that donkeys are knowns for their stubborness. they only go where they want to, when they want to, no matter how hard you kick or beat or coherse them with snacks.

they held a little cockroach sync-up to vote on it.

the donkey won out in the end, but it was a close race. some of the more affluent and powerful thought that they would very much like George W. Bush as their god. They said they would call him Pharoah. and with his guidance we could make the poor into slaves and make the slaves rebuild the World Trade Center. We could rebuild it out of stone and add an additional penthouse floor, to apease the lesser god known as Donald Trump. Of course many of the slaves would be hurt, maimed and even killed as they slogged the heavy granite slabs up little aluminum painters ladders. But this would be a small sacrifice.

Onlookers would surly proclaim "how glorious a monument our Pharoah has bestown upon us, even if it killed, maimed, or hurt all the poor slaves. Certainly, it must last forever!"

I told them that this was all a very bad idea. the donkey would be good enough.

Story Time

ok, so once upon a time there was this really pissed off guy who lived in a really pissed off town called Las Vegas, Nevada. I believe it was in the country of Afghanistan, but i could be wrong.

it happens.

so one day he decides he might make it as a screenwriter. yeah, I fuckin know. all the screenwriters live in L.A. Afghanistan. so fuckin what. He was trying to be different.

anyways, to make a long story short (and or spare you the horrific details that I know you love so well) he sucked at it soooo bad that noone would even read his scripts. even his sister. he had to pretty much bribe her with cash offerings for her to even pretend that she read them.

life sucks. sometimes a bunch. anyone that tells you different is trying to sell somthing.

the guy just stole that from a movie, thus an example of how much he sucks at writing screenplays.

back to the goddamn story.

one day our protagonist figures he should at least try something. considering the disgusting popularity of the "blog", he figures thats as good a thing as any.

the end. he died after that.

the constitution: or a drunken atempt at one anyhow.

ok so here it goes. these are the rules, so listen the freak up.

1. bitching is allowed.


ok, thats it. this includes me, just so you know.

and i will.

alot.

a really enormous lot.

so get frickin used to it. it's all i do pretty much.

I had notes, but i'm too goddamn drunk to find them

shit, they're around here somewhere. gimme a sec ...