Fear And Loathing In Ann Arbor, MI

It was the middle of November in Michigan. The day was cold with a gray sky looming overhead. We were on the verge of leaving fall and entering the god awful winter of the north. There were four of us headed from Holland to Ann Arbor, a three and half hour trip across the state, from one coast to the other.
To protect the guilty, I will change the names of my three cronies. We will call them Nick, Brent, and Tim. The three amigos were broke. Money wasn't an issue for me however, and I needed these three in order to make the trip complete. So I handed each of them $100 and we were off.
We were leaving Holland when we realized that we needed gas. In order to conserve our money, we decided to steal gas. Now there is almost an art to stealing gas. Let me tell you it is not just as easy as pulling in, filling up, and leaving. You have to have a game plan.
We pulled over before the station and removed the license plate. We then pulled up to the gas tank, everyone wearing shades on this dull, overcast day. Brent, who was driving, got out and started filling up. Usually when you are done filling up, you leave the gas nozzle on the ground so that the employees don't realize that you are done pumping. It can easily buy you another minute for your escape. Brent forgot this golden rule and placed the nozzle back in its home, and took off like a bat out of hell. Fortunately for us it did not matter.
When pulling a crime off of this nature, you tend to go through a fit of laughter. Uncontrollable and beast like noises bellow out of your face. The veins and blood vessels in your head feel like they will burst. The stomach feels as if it is cramped. I love the feeling of a good hard laugh.
We were close to the border of the neighboring county. When we crossed the line, we hopped out and put the license plate back on the car. We were safe from the man and out of harms way. We were now Ann Arbor bound but we needed to stop for some strong drink.
We stopped and purchased a fifth of whiskey and stole a 2 liter of Coca Cola. We probably would have stolen the Jack Daniels if it weren't for the fact that it was behind the counter. Now we could make this boring journey across the flat, farm lands of Michigan.
The day that we arrived in Ann Arbor just happened to be the day of the Wolverines/Ohio St. Buckeyes game. If you aren't familiar with college sports, this is one of the biggest rivalries in all of sports. Ohio St has Michigan's number and they did that day as well, in the Big House.
We pulled into town with an empty fifth of whiskey and a strong desire to burn the locals. Screaming Ohio St. rules at the top of our lungs, from the safety of the car, was a good way to get everyone's attention. There was a mob of students chasing the car and throwing objects like chocolate milk, among other things, at the vehicle.
At one point we reached a red light and were forced to stop. A young Asian man opened the passenger side door. He tried to reach for yours truly. I pushed the savage bastard back, screamed a racial slur, and then the light turned green.
Bored and waiting for our female friend, Callie, to get out of work, we pulled over and decided to wrestle each other on the side of the road. People were driving by slowly like we were crazed zoo animals who had escaped captivity. We were the roadside attraction.
Feeling fatigued and drained from wrestling, it was time to get more booze and meet up with Callie. She had prepared 30 jello shots and they were waiting to be devoured. By the time we left her place to meet up at the bar with our other friend, Verde, we had eaten every one of those lethal treats. It was bar time.
I can't say that I remember much of the ride to bar. I can't speak for the three stooges, but I can't recall any of it. It's during black outs when the true animal surfaces. The body operates on instinct. A man becomes one with his inner beast.
However, I do remember walking into the bar. The place was packed full of our nation's young minds getting wasted and killing their brain cells. Some of the Wolverines were sitting in the back drinking and going over what had gone wrong that day.
It was getting late and last call was coming soon. Verde informed us that there was not much alcohol at his place. This presented a problem. We needed our medicine and were not about to go without it. Looking over at the bar, I spotted what looked to be a full case of Bud Light bottles sitting unattended.
This was going to be a well planned mission. I would grab the case of beer when the bartender was facing the other direction. Someone would walk in front of me to block the case and part the crowd of students. Breaking through these pack of wild dogs was not going to be a simple task. I needed a little bull. I needed Brent.
Brent parted the way and moved fast. He was working out perfectly until he lead me down the hallway to the bathrooms. There were two hallways that were side by side. The one on the left lead to the bathrooms and the one on the right lead to freedom. We had to backtrack. Walking back towards the bar and the crowd of drunken students, we pulled a u-turn and went down the hallway that lead to the street. We made it. It was time to wind down and drink in a safe place. Of course we wouldn't be at Verde's for long before we had the itch to go out.
Brent and Nick left for pizza and never came back. This left Verde, Tim, and myself with nothing to do. We could stay and hang out with Verde's liberal minded roommates from all four corners of the world, or we could go out and cause some chaos.
Verde was leading us to his old fraternity house when I suddenly changed my mind. His roommates may have been the kind of people who despised me and my Republican views, but a couple of them were females, and I was confident that my conservative ideas would not interfere with my chances. I headed back after fighting off Tim and Verde. They started dragging me when I told them about my change of heart...Bastards.
I was back on Verde's road when I realized I had forgotten which house was his. The fear of being lost suddenly hit me. I did not own a cell phone at the time and looking back I wish I had. I had to be in Detroit the next day to watch the Lions/Giants game and now I couldn't remember which fucking house was Verde's. I started walking around and randomly stopping people who had cell phones. I would explain my situation and then they would let me use them. However, nobody was answering their phones.
After awhile I realized I wasn't even on Verde's road anymore. Now I was really lost. I would head to the nearest hotel and work out all this bullshit in the morning. It was beginning to snow for the first time and all I wanted was a warm place to lie my head down.
There are three hotels in Ann Arbor and every one of them was full. I had forgotten that the big game was the same day. I thought to myself, "That's it, I'm fucked. I'll have to sleep outside on the first cold night of the year." I could picture gangs of drunken rugby players finding me and beating the shit out of me because they thought I was a bum. I had to get indoors.
There weren't many options when I came across a sign that read Hospital this way. I could walk in, sleep in the emergency room lobby. If anyone woke me up, I would make something up and split. The hospital was enormous, and it took me an hour to walk around the building to reach my destination. Upon entering, a large, black, security guard stopped me and asked me what I was doing there. I responded, "My sister is in there. She's sick and it's urgent that I get in there. Thank you very much for your concern."
Six hours later I awoke with a stiff neck and sore back from lying on the hospital furniture but I was warm. It was 10:00 A.M. I still had to find my friends and make it to Detroit which was an hour away by car. I wondered through town until I found a bar/restaurant. I ordered a Bloody Mary and was denied because it was before noon on a Sunday(state law). This experience couldn't get any worse. I was in purgatory, I knew it. Somewhere during all of the madness I died during a black out.
Borrowing the bartender's phone, I called every person I knew to help me reach one of the savage pricks who I had come with. Finally, Tim's girlfriend reached Tim. I ordered some food and waited patiently. Never have I been happier to see Tim. When he walked through the door of the restaurant I thought he was an apparition. I told myself, "You're hallucinating you fool." But I wasn't. He and Callie took me to her place. Nick and Verde were already in Detroit.
Fortunately, Brent drove me to Detroit, drinking and driving about 100 mph the whole way. I had finally made it to Detroit. It was my first time there, and I realized why everybody called it a shit hole. I had only missed half of the first quarter and my friends waited for me so that I could get my ticket from them.


*Nick, Brent, and Tim are the real names of my three cronies, by the way, for those of you who don't know them.
*Fact: The Giants went on to win the Superbowl that year.
*Fact: The Lions lost that game. Not a big surprise.
*Tim also got lost and slept outside on a random porch. He was awakened by Verde's girlfriend. She just happened to live in the house where Tim had fallen asleep on the porch.
*Nick and Brent never made it back to Verde's. They were also lost and just happened to come across Callie's apartment by chance.

Strippers

I am a man with many vices. Even as a child, I knew that there wasn't much hope for myself. Many hours of my childhood were spent daydreaming about drinking, drugging, and sleeping with women. Perhaps I lack values, or maybe I am just hard wired to be a savage prick. It's probably safe to say that I'm on a highway to hell. This highway that I am on leads me right to my sanctuary...the strip club.
The strip club is actually a very unique place, and not because of the fact that the girls are in their birthday suits. There is a certain freedom that one feels upon entering the club. A feeling that no matter what happens in this life, everything is going to be OK as long as young, beautiful girls are willing to dance nude.
There is a strange sense of honesty that a man shares with an exotic dancer. The stripper craves money and the man craves a naked, warm body. There is no hiding the truth. Anybody who thinks that these girls are going to fall in love them is simply lying to themselves. However, it is very easy to fall in love with them, with trashy names like Jasmine, Star, and Angel. Who wouldn't fall in love?
The female body is the most precious thing on the planet, more than money, diamonds, or power. I see nothing wrong with women dancing in the buff. In fact, I think that if there were more strip clubs people might be happier. Imagine what would happen if we opened up a chain of strip clubs in the Middle East. Sure, some of them would get bombed, but after awhile the Arabs would jump on board. Spreading Democracy through strippers, I like that. In a world full of violence a man should be staring at a couple of breast, not thinking about how fucked we are.

Channel 4 News- Pennsylvania Man Saves Strippers

Local man in Pittsburgh, Pa saved 10 exotic dancers from a fire at a downtown strip club. Apparently, an electrical fire caught and within seconds the entire club was up in flames. Customers rushed for the door trampling and injuring dancers. One man, named Abe Young, stood alone and helped the strippers escape by staying behind to make sure everyone made it out safely. We caught up with Mr. Young and were able to ask him how he found the courage to become a hero.

Reporter: Abe, I've got to ask, what possessed you to help these injured women when the walls were literally burning down all around you? You must have been thinking about your own safety.
Abe: Its simple, I didn't want to see that beautiful T and A go to waste. I mean look at these chics. Could you possibly think of yourself when there's a chance that hot pieces of ass like these could perish. Maybe it's me but I couldn't run away.
Reporter: Did you find that the young ladies were grateful?
Abe: Holy horse shit, did I ever. I can't say that I've ever been rewarded for my bravery like I was after saving the girls.
Reporter: Can you elaborate?
Abe: I don't know, is my Mother watching? (laughter in the background) Let me put it this way, I could die right now with a smile on my face.
Reporter: Thanks for the interview, Abe. You truly are a hero
Abe: Thank you
Reporter: This is one reporter who is in awe. If there were only more men like Abe Young. Back to you Bob.

Andy Rooney On Walking Dogs

Living in New York, I see people walking their pooches everyday. What I don't understand is why do people own dogs in the city. They have to follow their K9 with a plastic bag waiting for it to drop a load. Would people walk their dogs if they could defecate in a toilet? I highly doubt it.
What if people walked their toddlers who weren't pottie trained. Why don't we follow children with a plastic bag in the park? I think I would enjoy watching that. I think I would enjoy shitting in the park. Is anyone interested in following me with a plastic bag? I'm Andy Rooney and this is 60 Minutes. Watch next Sunday as I continue to make an ass out of myself.

My Journey West

On June 18th I had no idea what the next two weeks would have in store for me. The plan was to leave on the 19th, Idaho bound for a family reunion, and return on the 22nd.
The reunion which consisted mostly of Doyle's, my Father's family on his Mother's side, was wonderful in every sense of the word. We stayed in a beautiful home in the mountains. The women spoiled us with hearty meals and a massage of the shoulders. We drank beer all day long and stayed up til 4:00 in the morning every night. There was plenty of smoke if you knew the right relatives and like any trip it was over before I knew it.
My last night I stayed awake, cherishing every moment with my cousins and siblings. We drank and laughed and shared stories from our lives while sitting in a hot tub under the big sky of Idaho full of stars so bright and close that it was as if you could flick them with your finger(maybe that was the shrooms).
Time was running out for us and suddenly the mood changed to a feeling of melancholy. My two cousins, Lucia and Tessa, whom I hadn't seen in 13 years, were wearing their puppy dog faces and my heart felt broken. Tessa, the free spirit, convinced me to stay longer and when I say convinced...well, it was more like just bringing up the idea because I was not ready to leave. The journey was not over. There was more to see before returning to midwest. My cousins, their children, and their mother(my Aunt D) were pushing on further west to the coast. And I would be damned if I was going to miss out on this trip.
The only thing I had to do at this point was tell my Father that a ride to the airport was no longer necessary. Now I could write a book about the old man. He is the strongest man I have ever met and I'm not talking about his fighting skills which were superb in his day. He is unique in the sense that he doesn't give a shit about what people think. He was recently shot in the leg two years ago and now walks with a limp which will most likely be with him for the rest of his life. He is a simple man who leads a simple life that is relaxed and subject of envy. He smokes a little grass, has long hair and pays $40 a month to live on the Demoines River. When I told my Dad that I was staying he asked, "Abe, do you have your fuckin head screwed on?" My response was, "Yes Dad."
Having never been further west than Whyoming, I was ecstatic to see Oregon, Washington, and California. I experienced some of the most breath taking scenery from the mountains to the Redwoods to the drive along the coast of the Pacific ocean in northern California. The air in some of those places was like a drug itself. Observing God's work first hand made me walk away feeling a little wiser.
There is an attitude in the west that is hard to describe. A feeling of freedom overcomes you. The pigs are not winning the war against marijuana. In fact, they are losing miserably. The people have spoken. On any given day at any given time a person can walk the streets of SanFrancisco and smell reefer wafting in their direction.
I experienced the police's failure to arrest my cousin's friend. We were smoking in her vehicle when I got out with my 12 pack of Budweiser to get a little air. The police, in an umarked car, rolled up on me. I warned my cousin and her friend(still in the vehicle) and then turned to have an officer standing directly in front of me. The girls showed their medical marijuana cards and the next thing I know the female cop(good cop) is talking about diet, reality t.v, and hot guys. I was stuck in an episode of Reno 911. The male cop(bad cop) wasn't having it. The girls were clearly aggrivating him with their talk of legal marijuana and how he was out of line for searching the vehicle. The bad cop found some keef and had an argument for arresting her. Apparently, concentrated pot is illegal in the state of California. A half an hour later the victim of police harrassment was dropped off at my cousin's door with no charges pressed.
The best part of this trip was being with my family. It was stressful and at times it felt like the walls would cave in. Traveling with 8 females, ranging from ages 2 to 58, is not an easy task to take on. I would not recommend doing so unless you have patience and a lot of alcohol. Fortunately for them, I had both.

5 Ways To Save A Cat In A Tree

5) Throw snowballs at it.
4) Cut down the tree.
3) Send a trained bear who listens to commands to climb the tree and rescue the feline.
2) Shoot a bullet in its general direction.
1) Call the fire Department

Attack Of The Fire Ants

It was May 2005 in Holland MI. The rain was coming down steadily which is common for that time of year. However, Mother Nature's urine was not a concern for me. It would only be a couple of days before I was basking in the sun in lovely Palm Beach, Fl.
My mother and stepfather were packing up and heading south. Their house, which had been built only two years before, was now empty. A U-haul truck sat in the driveway loaded to the brim. At the end of the drive sat a trailer with my parent's van propped up on it.
Being the considerate son that I am, I tagged along with Mom so that she would have company and when we reached our destination, she would have help unloading. It would be a long trip, especially tugging a trailer behind the U-haul. My girlfriend at the time sat bitch, I sat shotgun the entire trip(because I lacked a license), and poor old Mom drove this sputtering beast over six states.
The trip was going well. We got started early in the A.M. and were making great time considering the load. If you know my mother, then you know that she is a trooper. Give this woman her Ritalin and Diet Mountain Dew and she can conquer the world. Sure, the trip would prove to be challenging but nothing could defeat us.
We were already in Frankfort Kentucky by mid afternoon and we were ready for a break. We were not stopping to stay the night. No, we would continue to push on, but when you see a sign for the Jim Beam distillery, well, it goes without saying, you must stop. And we did. We lined up with the rest of the tourist and watched a movie about the history of this delicious bourban. Then it was time for shots. Fortunately for me, my mother and lady friend were not up for bourban at 4 in the afternoon. Coming from a long line of drunken white trash from Ireland, I figured no one would mind if I helped myself to their free samples, and no one did.
The field trip was over and it was time to hit the road. Onward we went. Dusk hit as we ascended the Appalachian Mountains into Tennessee. Rain accompanied the night and so did a truck that felt as if it were on the verge of falling apart bolt by bolt. Traveling up the mountains reminded me of the choo choo that could. I was waiting for the U-haul to start reciting the words, "I think I can. I think I can." We had pushed the old truck long enough. It was time to find a place to rest our heads.
We stopped in some town in the middle of Deliverance country. Anywhere was fine with me. We got seperate hotel rooms. Mom in one and the lady and me in the other. We had brought some weed. It was time for the much needed and overdue buzz. Babies don't sleep like we did that night.
The next morning it was up and Adam before the Sun was even considering rising in the east. We continued our push through the Appalachians and were now descending. We had finally reached Georgia but the truck was hurting. Backfiring, sputtering, and making God awful noises. You could sense the fear in the cabin. Little prayers to God were being muttered under my mother's breath. Like a shot gun blast, came the loudest noise I have ever heard a vehicle make.
We pulled over onto the shoulder of the highway. Cars, SUVs, mini-vans, and semi trucks were flying past us. It was a scene from the game Froggert. We stood there looking at the truck with a sense of defeat looming over us. Is this it? We've come so far. Why now?
Suddenly, my mother is slapping at her legs and ankles. I asked, "What is it Mom? Is something biting you?" Mom decided to step off of the shoulder to walk around the vehicle when fire ants attacked. Instantly she became weak. Trying to keep my mind intact after the misfortunes of the day, I encouraged my mother to push on. We would walk to the nearest gas station which we had passed five minutes earlier. My mother made it about twenty feet before the toxic alkaloid from the ants hit her like a ton of bricks. I was frightened that my mother was about to die on the shoulder of some fucking highway in the middle of Georgia(of all places).
"Come on Mom, I'll carry ya." I said. Like any son who loves his mother, I threw her up on my back and carried her piggy back style. The Georgia heat at 10 A.M was overbearing. It had already reached 90 degrees. Fortunately after walking this way for about 5 minutes a man pulled over to offer us a lift. I couldn't believe that we had gone that far without anyone stopping. This was post 9-11. Where were these people's sense of comradery? I 95 is one of the most traveled highways in the U.S.
The kind stranger drove backwards up the shoulder and whipped his truck around at the end of the ramp. The next thing I know is that we are in a BP gas station. My mother, who is a Christain, is yelling for Benadryl. The lady behind the counter says, "Mam, we can't go and give ya benadryl. We don't wanna give ya sumfin that might counteract the hospital's drugs." My mother replied, "Are you fucking kidding me. Abraham, find me benadryl."
An ambulance arrived before I had a chance to find any drugs for my mother. They took her away and like that my girlfriend and I were stranded in Hicksville, USA. What do we do? Should we try to find a way to the hospital? Instead, I contacted the U-haul people and gave them our location. "Yeah, give us bout twenny minutes. We be right out, awrighty." said the mechanic on the phone. Now there was the issue of not being at the BP when my Mother came back, if she even did. Well, no problem there because they both came at the same time, 5 hours later.
So my lady friend, Kylie, and I sat there in the Georgia heat. This was not my idea of basking in the sun. No, that fantasy included margaritas and my girl in a skimpy bathing suit. I began to miss the rain up north and found myself wishing that it was cold.
It was a Sunday and the religious were coming from all different directions to buy only God knows what at their local gas station. I sat on the curb watching the people when an obese black woman fell into the newspaper machines. She lay there crying for her husband as her two year old grandson stood over her with tears in his eyes. "Is this actually fucking happening?" I asked Kylie. I felt the sudden urge to laugh hysterically and found myself using the same muscles one would use to shit in order to prevent any maniacal laughter. We were in the Twilight Zone. I was convinced. I ran into the store and yelled at the old black man paying his bill. "Sir, sir. I think your wife has fallen and hurt herself."
For the second time that day, in a town of no more than 200 residents, the ambulance found its way to the BP gas station. That was when my Mother and the U-haul mechanic showed up seperately and at the exact same time. It was time to leave this madness behind. We would hop in with the mechanic and ride to the U-haul together.
As we approached the truck, we could tell that something wasn't right. While we were showing the locals at the BP how Yankees freak out over fire ants, an 18 wheeler clipped the side of the trailer(carrying the van) and the U-haul. Damage all the way down for 30 some feet. How this was not a collision of monsterous proportions still boggles my mind to this day. The semi simply just scraped the living shit out of the entire side leaving the tires flat on the trailer, a scratch down the side of my Mothers van which resembled the work of a giant keying a vehicle, and a partially dented in side of the U-haul.
We disconnected the trailer. They would come back for that later. The mechanic hooked the truck to his tow truck. I rode with him while my Mother and Kylie drove the van that sat on top of trailer. We were headed into the deep country of some rural Georgian county that reminded me of the slasher films. My imagination was in overdrive. It would only make sense that we would be tortured and murdered by the end of this journey. Some rednecks wearing my Mother's skin while chasing my girlfriend as I hang from a cattle hook. The perfect ending to a terrible day.
We were safe though. There was no torturing of the Yanks. At this point we simply waited while the mechanics worked their magic. A state police officer showed up to fill out an acident report. This may have been the first time that day that I had a panic attack. The officer walked around the van with my mother making note of the damage. That is when I realized that my marijuana was in a hand bag that was plastered up against the back window of the hatch back. The trooper stood next to a quarter ounce of my weed for what seemed like an eternity. He never had any reason to get in the vehicle.
The U-haul was fixed, the trailer recovered, and we were on our way. We drove to northern Florida and stopped for strong drink(which you can't buy in the entire state of Georgia on the lord's day). We stayed the night and started early for Palm Beach. We made it unscathed.

Andy Rooney On Brunettes

I must say that women with brown hair have always attracted me more than others. Perhaps there is some truth to Freudianism. The women in my family are all brunettes. My mother was a brunette, my sister, my grandmother. They're all dead now, but I still fantasize over them.
What is it about a woman with brown hair that makes me want to get to know her privates a little better? I don't understand why my 87 year old cock becomes arroused when I see a pretty brunette. It just does.
Sometimes I find myself playing with my dick in Central Park. Mothers taking their children for a stroll, young ladies jogging with their dogs, and brown muff all over the place.
Who says blondes have more fun? I don't know any blondes who have more fun. Are women with lighter features suddenly the spokespersons for female fun. I remember a young lady by the name of Cyndi Lauper, brunette, who dyed her hair all kinds of punky colors. She said, "Girls just want to have fun."
I'm Andey Rooney, and this is 60 Minutes. I will see you next Sunday, where I will continue to act like a senile old bastard.

*Brunettes of the world, I truly believe that you are the prettiest. I meant to say something sweet about you girls, instead, I drifted off to Rooney world. Life is much simpler there.

Random Thoughts

My dog stinks really bad. Sometimes I wonder if I carry her repulsive stench with me. How do you have fun without drinking or getting high? Would a room full of snotty boogers smell bad, I wonder. Sometimes I pray to God when I'm tired, then I start to fall asleep and have impure thoughts while I'm still praying. I find myself apologizing to someone I've never met. I'm always excited for football season in the spring. I havn't even appreciated summer yet and I'm ready for fall so I can watch people (who don't give a shit about me) play a game. Why do I fall in love with a different girl everyday? Doesn't have to be someone I know. Could be some poor white trash girl at the supermarket. Could be a bank attendant named Shawanda. Or maybe its you...Creepy

A Confusesd Little Man

Jiverly Wong was a Vietnamese immigrant who lived in the U.S. since the early 1990's. In case you have no idea who this person was, let me fill you in. Wong recently stormed the American Civic Association building in Binghampton, NY killing 13 people before turning the gun on himself and taking his own life.
Binghampton is a small town in western New York. Per capita, Binghampton has the least amount of crime in the U.S. I guess you could say that they were a little shocked when Jiverly went ape shit.
According to Wong's suicide letter, the police have been harassing him since he came to this country. Late night molestations, threatening text messages, and vicious rumors are just a few of the examples Wong was gracious enough to leave us in his delusional letter.
The letter, that is being investigated by the experts, was dated March 18th nearly two weeks before the slaying. Photos of Wong smiling, holding two guns, and waving around a gun permit and driver's license also accompanied the letter.
Those are the facts in this case. Now let me start by saying, "What The FUCK?" For the reader's sake I was considerate enough to post the suicide letter following this entry. I should apologize for calling it a suicide note. I would describe it more as the rantings of a depraved mad man. A confused little man who was missing all of his screws.
Let me interest you in a couple of Jiverly Wong's quotes. Wong started the letter, "Dear New Ten Now. I am Jiverly Wong shooting the people. The first I want to say sorry I know little English." Like most Asain people, Wong is very polite. I like that in a mass murderer, shows character. Good manners will get you far in life.
This quote that you are about to read completely blew my mind. Try not to think about the words for too long, you will have a fucking brain embolism. "Because undercop gave me a lot of ass during the 18 years I got 7 years and 8 month delivery to grocery in the California came back New York on the August 2007." Ok, I understand that he spoke poor English, but what does this mean? Does anyone feel like they lost some brain cells? I wish I could have had a chance to sit down with Jiverly and pick his little brain apart. I'm certain that it would have made for some of the most interesting conversation I've ever had.
The final quote that I will share ends this letter full of jiberish and non-sense and in all honesty makes the most amount of sense. "Already impartial now...cop bring about the shooting. cop must be responsible. And you have a nice day."
And I say to you sir, have a nice day in Hell.

The Sucide Letter From Jiverly Wong

Dear NEW TEN NOWI am Jiverly Wong Shooting the people.The first I want to say sorry I know a little English. I hope you understand all of this. Of course you need to know why I shooting? Because undercover cop gave me a lot of ass during eighteen years I got seven years and eight month delivery to grocery in the California came back New York on the August 2007.Let talk about when I live in California. Such as...cop used 24 hours the technique of ultramodern and camera for burn the chemical in my house. For switch the channel time...For adjust the fan. For made me unbreathable. For made me vomit. For connect the music into my ear.Undercover cop usual coined some nasty was not true about me and spread a rumour to the receiver and some people know me conduce toward many people predudiced and selfish to me...cop made me lost my job...cop put me became poor.Let talk about when I live at the 28 Baker St. 2nd Floor, Johnson City, New York 13790. It terrible when I live there such as...cop wait until midnight when I off the light and went to the bed. Cop unlock my door and came in take a sit in my room ((cop did it thirteen time on the year 1994 )) on the thirteen time had three time touch me when I sleeping. One time stolen 20 dollar in my wallet. One time used electric gun shoot at the behind my neck. (That time I did not know English)Please continue second page thank you.Page 2From 1990 to 1995 New York undercover cop try to get a car accident with me. Such as when I driving on the highway and on the street undercover cop sunddenly brake the car stop immediately at the of front my car...cop did it 32 time like that during 1990 to 1995 but I never hit the car.Many time from 1990 to 1997 at the day time...cop exploit unknow English and went to my house knock the door for harass and domineer. Of course during that time cop coined something was not true about me and spread a rumour nasty like the California cop.From August 2007 until now cop gave me not to much ass only one time cop leave a massage in my voice mail and said (( come back your country )) after five minute I send a text massage to them I said I will call the police and they send it back to me they said they are the police.Dear New Ten Now. Right now I still get unemploment benefit of the company Shop Vac Endicott. New York State Department of Labor was cheat and unpaid from December 1st 2008 to December 28th 2008 I already claim weekly benefit from that date.Any way I can not accepted my poor life. Before I cut my poor life I must oneself get a judge job for make an impartial with undercover cop by at least two people with me go to return to the dust of earth.Already impartial now..cop bring about this shooting. cop must responsible. And you have a nice day.

Man And Dog Combo Save Child

A west Michigan man and his dog saved a child from getting hit by a bus. Apparently, Abe Young (29) and his dog, Lucy Young (35 in dog years) were going for a walk when they saw 10 year old Jamal Jenkins cross before a bus. Abe and Lucy ran in front of the bus and pushed Jenkins to safety. Jenkins first reaction was to punch Young in the grill which led to the worst ass whooping the child ever received. Everything settled down when Jenkins realized how close he was to being killed, then everyone had a good laugh.
You may remember Abe Young from other stories such as "Man Saves Dog From Aligator" and "West Michigan Man At It Again" where he foiled a bank robbery. This humble man, who ask for nothing in return, is a genuine hero. He may be Superman. I think as human beings we need to look at ourselves and ask, what can I do to be more like Abe.

5 Ways To Become A Savage Conservative

5) Denounce the evil Democrats
4) Stop acting like a pussy
3) Grow a mustache
2) Believe that we are justified in whatever we do concerning foreign policy.
1) Hang out with me

My Good Friend, David Villaverde

It was around October of 2002 when I met Verde. He was a 17 year old punk who was very opinionated and too smart for his own good. Not much has changed except for his age, his weight (fat bastard), and his status as a college graduate.
I must say that I have had some interesting times with the old chap. One of my first memories of David was duct taping him to a chair when he was passed out drunk. Doesn't sound very funny, huh, that's because you weren't there to see him lean his head forward and puke all over his crotch.
Knowing Verde over the years I have noticed that their are two sides to this young man. There is the primitive, savage side that comes out during whiskey binges. The primal beast slurring his words as if they were the first to ever be spoken. That look of confusion and fear that lead an animal to attack its own kind. Laughter bellowing from his bowels like some kind of demonic mating call. The other side, which he can probably thank his parents for, is a deep instilled fear of not being a righteous man. He can probably thank Catholicism for that as well. These are two sides that we all tangle with from time to time but for a Catholic who is half Peruvian, it can be a little bit more confusing.
Today I spoke with my dear friend and heard him utter words that sent a shiver up my spine. He is ready to quit drinking and get his priorities straightened out. I was dumbfounded and felt myself at a loss for words. What do you say to your friend when he tells you that he has lost his faith? A part of me wanted to cry out and say please tell me that you are not abandoning me. I didn't, however, because I know that every addict has his or her moment when they are sick and tired of being sick and tired. It goes without saying that the drug does conquer the great ones occasionally. It is a never ending battle. We lose men on the front lines and we recruit more to further the cause.
Unfortunately, Verde has been placed on probation and has no choice but to comply with the law. They are making him blow the plastic dick everyday (so he says). He may be lying to me because of some god awful epiphany that has plagued his brain. Either way it doesn't matter, he made it clear that when he is off probation he plans to continue this life of sobriety.
I will end this little piece with the 12 steps. Perhaps he can find serenity in these words. The next time that you speak with him, he may insist that you accompany him to an AA meeting. I pray for your soul, David.

1) We admitted that we were powerless over alcohol- that our lives had become unmanagable.
2) Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us back to sanity.
3) Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him.
4) Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
5) Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
6) Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
7) Humbly asked God to remove our shortcomings.
8) Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.
9) Made direct amends to such people whenever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
10)Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
11)Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood God, praying only for the knowledge of God's will for us and the power to carry that out.
12)Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to other addicts, and to practice these principals in all of our affairs.

Dear God, man. I think typing the steps has done something to me. Are there any meetings at 4:10 in the morning I wonder. No more stinking thinking, I'm going straight and narrow from here on out.

The Joy Ride

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am an alcoholic. I am aware of my terrible and unrewarding affliction. I remember clearly the day that this realization hit me. The morning of June 15th 1994 I awoke in the hospital at age 15. The night before I received or you could say earned a DUI.
My stepfather was out of town on business. This left dear old mom alone to supervise which she never really was good at doing. Earlier in the day myself and my friend Brad stole a case of beer from his father's beer distributor. Now we needed girls. Getting girls wasn't hard for a couple of horny teens who had beer.
The party started around 10:00 at night. My mother had gone down to her room in the basement to sleep. This left the first and second floor open for business. Our little girl friends came over and we had a pretty good time. Drinking, sucking face, and even a little pot. It was shaping up to be a good night.
It was around 2 in the morning when the girls finally left. The party was over and the beer was gone. "What to do", I thought to myself. That was when I made the most foolish mistake of my life and I've made some pretty bad decisions.
My parents Dodge Ram conversion fan sat in the driveway unaware of its death which would take place shortly. I hopped in the giant beast and started on down the road. My friend Tyler, God bless his soul, gave chase and caught up with me before I had a chance to get very far. He jumped in to convince me otherwise. I assured him that it would be a quick drive around the neighborhood. An hour later after driving all over town it was time to get back.
The whole time I had the van out I hadn't really tested her. I wanted to feel the power of the engine. I wanted to see what she was made of and so I did. I reached a residental road a couple of blocks from my home. At the end of this road you could take a left or a right but there was no going straight. At least not for normal motorist but I was hardly normal and not a legal driver to begin with. We were moving. The last I looked at the spedometer it read 95 mph. Then I looked up and realized that we were fucked.
At the end of this road was a house straight ahead that sat back from the road. The entrance to the driveway started off from my left and snaked down in front of me. I hit the curb and was airborne for 75 feet. When I landed it was on top of a car which shot out from under the van like a bullet. Next came the swing set which instantly crumbled. And then came the telephone poll which came crashing down on the van flatening it like a pancake.
When I came around the dashboard was lying on my lap. The doors wouldn't open so we had to climb out of the passenger side window. The first thing I said was, "Lets take it home and fix it." There was no fixing this vehicle especially when the engine was half laying on the ground.
The sirens were roaring and the residents were out in the street. The police were there within 2 minutes. Quick response time. They hauled me off in an ambulance. When the lights shut off I started singing "When The Music is Over" by The Doors. I wonder what the paramedics must have thought.
Later the police would tell me that if I had hit the curb a couple more feet to my right, I would have gone through the daughter's bedroom. Fortunately I didn't kill anyone. I wasn't even wearing a seat belt so I'm lucky that I didn't kill myself. One year of probation and $1000 in fines. Took it pretty easy on me.

America's Youth Gone Wild

The year was 1996 and spring was upon us. The world was alive once again with the sounds of birds chirping and the smell of green grass being mowed. The small town of Franklin, Pa resting deeply in the valley was not ready or prepared for what was about to be unleashed on it.
It was a Friday morning in mid May when I awoke in a bathtub, holding a half empty beer and covered in my own urine. At 17 years of age I had been accustomed to waking up in strange places, losing half the night before from drinking excessively and taking strong drugs. I managed to drag myself out of the tub, chugged my flat beer, and exited the restroom in order to make some kind of sense out of my bewilderment.
James Ryan Edwards, the craziest son of a bitch that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, was yelling and carrying on about only God knows what. There he was with his bleach blond hair accompanied by his bleach blond eyebrows and that look. Oh God that look of mischief and hatred. I knew instantly that this was not going to be a good morning.
The seniors had their class trip and I being a junior was already a half an hour late for school. James was a senior and it was tradition for all of the kids to go to a diner called Kings before they reported to the school for their field trip. We needed a ride but found it very difficult to convince our fellow students to help us out. We were down to one last car of kids parked in front of the the house where we had crashed that night. We were in luck. They were willing to give us a ride to the diner and to school. I would be somewhat late but I would have a stomach full of breakfast food, hot damn.
Suddenly everything changed dramaticaly when James dropped his pants and started pissing on the vehicle that we were about to board. Our ride sped off leaving us standing on the main road in this town of 10,000 residents. Motorist drove by slowly as my friend held his manhood and screamed at the top of his lungs. We were in trouble and I knew it but there was no turning back. At this point it was sink or swim and I was not going down without some kind of public disturbance that would burn the locals.
A man in a truck came to a complete stop when James walked in front of him with his pants around his ankles. He then jumped onto the hood of the vehicle and planted his ass on the windshield. This was my cue. I ran to the driver side of the truck and pounded on the window screaming, "Get the fuck out of the truck. We need to comandeer it. Get the fuck out of the truck before we kill you." Fortunately for the drivers' sake and ours he remained in his seat with the door locked.
Little did we know that a retired police officer, who lived next door, was calling the cops as this was all going down. This was before the days of cell phones which meant you usually had a better chance of escaping the law. Before I knew it we were surrounded by the boys in blue. Nowhere to go but in the back of the police cruiser. As I sat in the back of the car I watched the cops try to arrest James. He was definitely resisting with his pants still around his ankles and lying face first on the sidewalk with his limbs spread eagle to make it more difficult for the police to pick him up. I couldn't help but laugh hysterically like some kind of demon who knows that good has prevailed.
In the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvanina they have (or had) a rule that 17 year olds can't wait it out in a cell. So there I sat waiting for my mother and listening to James call the cops every name in the book. I couldn't see him but his cell was 12 feet ahead of me and off to my left. All of the sudden a stream of piss was being shot out from his cell like a statue in a fountain. A puddle started to form on the floor right before my eyes. "Clean that up you fucking pigs!", James demanded. And sure enough some poor rookie still wet behind the ears came over with a mop and bucket and cleaned the floor of my dear friend's yellow fluid.
Now if you have never been picked up by your parents at the county jail, let me tell you it is not something that you look forward to. When they arrive they always have that look of being completely and emotionally drained. I am not a parent myself and can't really fathom how it must feel to receive that call.
I sat their full of anxiety when I felt an itch on my head. That was when I discovered that half of my head had been shaved right down the middle. I had hair on my right side and nothing on the left. "What is my mother going to think?", I asked myself. That was when I heard the big steel door buzz, lock release, and open. There my mother stood staring at me with that same old defeated look and tears in her eyes. She wasn't sobbing. Just a subtle cry that would break any son's heart.
James and I both faced the Magistrate. I was sentenced to rehab for 37 days and James received probation. Magistrate Billingsly made it clear that we were savage drunks with no decency or respect for mankind. There may have been some truth to that because I really didn't give a shit about anything back then.

*Now read this story again and think about my head being half shaved.

ABC Having Problems With "The View"

Tempers are flaring on the set of the "New View". Already the new host have been at each others' throats. Day time television is going through a rude awakening. Viewers are concerned whether they should be tuning into different programs while they're children are present.
Since the debut the women on the show have been out for blood. Threats during the filming and in the dressing rooms have created substantial problems for the excutive producer Abraham Young.
Young was reached for a comment and said this, "These girls have to get it under contol. We in the business were not expecting a complete fall out in the beginning." ABC is under fire for hiring amateures and may lose sponsors.
The women on the show however are not backing down. Kelsie Van Dyke was quoted saying, "If McDonald and Boonstra want to go to war then I will bring them a war! If those bitches think they're going to get more muhlaa, then they are fucking crazy!"
As a journalists, I have to ask what has become of us? Friends given the opportunity to prosper and what have they done? They have turned on one another like the barn yard animals in "The Animal Farm".

ABC Hires All New Cast For The View

ABC's show "The View", known for its cattiness, has pulled a 180 degree turn on its viewers. Everybody from Barbara Walters on down to Whoopi has been fired and replaced with five beautiful women from Holland Michigan. The new panel consists of Kelsie Van Dyke, Kelli McDonald, Erika Jones, Mary Boonstra, and Jenna Voogd. Apparently issues over contracts and a drop in ratings was enough for Executive Producer Abraham Young.
Many have asked why these five and who are they? What are their credentials? According to ABC they have none. The media heads have decided to take a different approach and hire a group of friends to see how long it takes them to rip each others heads off. Young was quoted saying. "I think it's a great idea. I know these girls personally and if anyone can do it, its these five. We'll have them go from best friends to arch nemesis over night. The best part of it is that we save over $100 Million."
There is no decision yet on who will host and co-host the show. Rumors are flying around Hollywood and many say that Mary Boonstra has the job. Others say that "The View" is looking for a host with a more conservative manner and may go with McDonald having Boonstra as the outspoken side kick. Already Jones, Voogd, and Van Dyke have complained about thier fear of not getting as much of the spot light. An anonymous source has leaked information pertaining to salaries and has Boonstra and McDonald making $10 million more a year.
We reached Mary Boonstra and were able to quote her, "Listen dude, this is a once in a life time opportunity. We're all making moolah here. If those other bitches have a problem with how much I'm making, bring it." Erika Jones was reached for a comment and said, "Oh, its been broughten Bitch!"
This may be a ticking time bomb. How long will these young ladies be able to maintain? There will be drama and it will be entertaining.

New Guy In Town

I moved to Holland, Mi in January 2002 at the age of 22. Being used to moving through out my life I found it very easy to meet friends. The first person that I met was a girl named Mccenzie. She was a nice girl and was kind enough to invite me to her house party during Tulip Time(a tulip festival held in Holland). Kegs of Oberon and strange faces surrounded me. Fortunately for my excessive drinking habit I was able to strike up some conversations and have a good time. I ended up drinking quite a bit and blacked out.
Now blacking out is nothing new for this drunk. How does the old saying go? "If you remember everything then you didn't have a good time." I have lived my life by those words. Blacking out can be a bad thing though when your mind isn't familiar with a new area.
The last thing I remember at the party was slapping a young lady's ass and being asked to leave. The next thing I remembered was waking up in an apartment where I didn't belong. Yes my friends this humble man who writes to you pulled a Robert Downey Jr. I awoke but naked and in a puddle of piss. The room was pitch dark. I stood to turn on the light and that was when I saw the hall light shine under the door entering the apartment. A sense of panic hit me like a freight train. The minute amount of light was just enough for me to make out the room that I was standing naked in. Quickly I gathered my clothes which made a trail to the front door. I was just about to walk out the door when curiosity took over. I had to figure this out. Where am I?
With a sense of urgency bearing down on me, I decided to look for pictures of the person or persons who lived in this place. The only pictures I saw were of a middle aged Mexican couple. Alright, time to bail before the heat comes down on me I thought. I left the apartment and walked down a flight of stairs that resembled the stairs in my own building. I walked out of the building and approached the nearest street sign to see where I was. 13th St. and College. I lived on 14th St. and Central two blocks away.
I went home, drank a couple of beers, and went back to sleep. The next morning I awoke and still suffered from curiosity. Maybe I left with someone I thought. It was time to make the dreadful phone call to my friend Mccenzie. I wanted to figure out whether or not I had left alone. Mccenzie informed me that I had left by myself stummbling down the sidewalk.
To this day it is still a mystery to me. Perhaps someone found me and gave me a place to sleep. That is highly unlikely considering that I was naked. I must have just wondered into the apartment unconsiuosly.

Shitting And Pissing In Funny Places

Ever since I was a child I have found it amusing and very entertaining to relieve myself in weird places. My fascination started in elementary school when I leaked the lizard right next to my 2nd grade teacher's desk before class started. She had no idea and either did my classmates. But I knew and it left me with a sense of satisfaction. The carpet bore a large stain and my teacher wondered how it got there.
Another time in highschool I had a human shield, consisting of other troubled teens, stand around me while I pissed on a desk during the middle of class. Let me tell you friends, it is hard not to laugh hysterically when pulling a prank of this nature especially when the teacher is in the class room.
When I was 12 I filled an empty Coke can with my urine and poured it on my friend's cousin while he slept. Why would I do something that cruel you may ask yourself. I don't know. Sometimes even I don't know how my mind works.
Pissing in random places evolved into the much funnier art of defecating in bizarre places. Places where people would never expect to see piles of shit. For instance, at the age of 18 and a freshman in college, I took a dump in the shower stall of our dormitory bathroom. I was awfully drunk and under the influence of drugs but that doesn't change anything. I would have done it sober in a heartbeat. I still imagine what the poor cleaning lady must have thought. I wonder how her face expressed her shock at the sight of my feces.
Speaking of pooping. I was 18 when I had my first apartment. There was a laundromat in the complex and it was open 24 hours a day. Now the laundry room had no cameras which was their first problem. Who doesn't have cameras in a laundromat? So one night while under the influence, me and a couple of buddies squatted and unloaded on the laundromat floor leaving three large, steaming piles. Laughter consumed our bodies to the point that it was hard to walk.
Shitting and pissing in public places is just what I do. If I know I can get away with it, chances are that I will. Maybe there is something wrong with my brain. Perhaps I am not entirely sane. But you have to admit, it is kind of funny.

Mayor of Ann Arbor sued for Sexual Harrasment

Mayor David Villaverde known for his shenanigans has done it again voters. A woman named Anita Lopez is claiming that the mayor touched her in a way that was innapropriate. Lopez's attorneys filed suit today in district court. The mayor was reached for comment, "So I grabbed her rack a few times. Maybe I called her sugar tits. You should see some of the tops this braud wears."
Unfortunately the mayor was relected last November so it looks like we are stuck with him for the next four years. The mayor won by a narrow margin before going on to ruin Christmas. Many will remember Christmas of 2008. The year the mayor restricted air space over the city preventing Santa Clause from reaching half the children. Santa Clause never came because he didn't feel that is was fair for everyone.

West Michigan Man Arrested For Sex Crimes

A west Michigan man, Brent Vaalburg(23), has been arrested for crimes ranging from intent to sell sexual paraphenelia to minors to masturbating in public. Apparently Ottawa County deputies found Vaalburg spanking his monkey in an elementary school bathroom. When asked why he chose the children's bathroom he responded, "Because I wanted to sell a dildo to some little brat. Thought I might rub one out while I was waiting."
The police were not amused. Vaalburg finds himself being charged with some serious felonies. Bail has been set at 10% of $50,000. His lawyer is asking for mercy from the court, stating that his client has been under severe stress stemming from work, school, and relationships.

*This is a parody. I should probably make that clear so that my friend doesn't sue me for libel.

Super Bowl Champions- Sixburgh

Hello sports fans. Football season is over and the Pittsburgh Steelers are the champions. Many doubted the champs and some will say that they didn't earn it. To those, I say Fuck You! This team had undeniably the hardest schedule in all of the NFL. Determination and hard work were the main ingrediants in this dish called victory.
I must give respect to the Cardinals but they were never going to win. Even had the refs called Warner's fumble an incomplete pass, the defense wouldn't have allowed the Cards a touch down with one chance left. The Steelers don't typically allow teams many chances to score, hence the number one defense.
The Pittsburgh Steelers are one of the greatest franchises out of the four major sports in America. When you are that good, haters will try to discredit anything that is accomplished. People who have never felt the delightful high from their team winning the big game. These people are bitter and I can empathize. I would probably be angry if my team always sucked. Hell, I'm angry when they don't make it to the playoffs. I couldn't imagine being a fan of a team that struggles just to win a game.
My prediction for next year is that the Steelers repeat. Their schedule will be about a hundred times easier which will help them on their path to a seventh ring. Teams like the Lions, Chiefs, and Raiders are just a few of the shitty teams that they will face(sorry Lions' fans....someday they will be good. Look at the Cards). The black and gold dynasty is back. I thought you knew.


*Looks like my good friend, Joe Versandal, lost a bet to me. Time to pay up Joe. Time to get your beautiful, Steelers tattoo.

West Michigan Forecast

This just in....still fucking cold. There is finally some fucking snow to go with the fucking frigid weather. Doesn't look like this fucking winter will let up anytime soon. Drink some fucking hot coacoa and shut the fuck up.

Blago My Eggo

A new presidency has gripped the nation and Obama fever is spreading like the black plague (no pun intended). The people have spoken. The nation is hungry for change but the people of Illoinois are caught up in Al Capone like politics, because of a funny little man with big hair has been shitting all over the American dream.
Democratic Govenor Rod Blagojevich, A.K.A. Blago, has shown the nation that the liberals are just as corrupt as anyone else. My question for the media is: "Why are we not putting emphasis on the title Democrat?" If this were a Republican, I can assure you that the Dems would be lining up around the block to throw stones at this sinner.
If this is how things are done in Chi Town, I have to wonder what Obama is going to bring to the table. It seems that our president knows more crooks than your average convict. Perhaps Obama was and is a beacon in troubled waters. A bright light surrounded by nothing more than cold, dark waters. Or perhaps Obama is like the first time criminal who goes off to prison a pup and comes out a mad dog. A pup with no experience that has learned from the most rotten dregs in society, politicians from Chicago.

A Prayer To God

Dear God,

Please Lord forgive me for my sins. There are so many of them that I wouldn't know where to start. So please just forgive them all. Anyways, down to brass tax. I started this prayer for a reason. I need to talk to you about the Steelers. Now God, I can't be held accountable for my actions if they lose. You may just have a couple of souls up there a little early if the Cards win.
Here is what I'm proposing. You make it an exciting game where the Steelers win in the end and I won't kill anyone. I'll stop drinking and driving(ha ha, he doesn't know that I don't drive). And I'll stop masturbating....all over the place.
In the name of Jesus Christ, who died for our sins, Amen.

Obama Nanny Makes Accusations

America has a new president. A man with strong family values. Someone that we can all look up to. But is there another side that we don't know? Could he possibly have skeletons in the closet like many of us.
A former nanny for the Obamas, Kelli McDonald, has come out with some contraversial accusations. According to McDonald, Oprah Winfrey and President Obama have been having an affair since September 2006. The family nanny started working for the Obamas in January 2006 and was relieved of her duties for allegedly stealing Barack Obama's boxer shorts in late October 2007.
I caught up with McDonald and was able to have a brief interview. I really wanted to get to the heart of the story. I was anxious to see if there was any truth and validity in her statements.

Interviewer: "So Kelli, may I call you Kelli?"
McDonald: "Baby, you can call me anything you want."
Interviewer: "Ok Kelli, tell me your side of the story."
McDonald: "Miss Michelle was out of town. I was helping the girls with their homework when
I heard Oprah's voice coming from Senator Obama's room.
Interviewer: "Is it safe to say that Obama was watching Oprah on T.V? I mean it was after
school. Maybe about 4:00?"
McDonald: "Ah, ah, no. See here's the thing, I went to investigate and saw them going at it. 'He
said that he was going to give her some change that would drive her wild.' Now that's some change I could use, woot woot."
Interviewer: "Please Kelli, lets try to keep this professional. Can you explain getting fired over
boxer shorts? It seems to me that you may be disgruntled."
McDonald: "Disgruntled, are you kidding me? I was trying to proove that Obama was
sleeping with Oprah. I figured that if I could get the shorts to a lab, they could find
Oprah's DNA.

This is one reporter who is convinced. Miss McDonald acted like a patriot when she tried to show America that we are being fooled by a two timing prick. If he is two timing his wife, who says that he won't two time us. McDonald will probably be ridiculed by the media. She should be honored by our nation.

Savage Dating Service- My Friend Brent Is Now Signed Up Ladies!

My name is Brent Vaalburg. I'm 23 years young and know what a woman likes. I currently go to school at GRCC and have a job working for my idol, Doug. I'm good with computers and mechanics. But I'm not here to talk about boring stuff. I want the ladies to know about the real Brent. My friends call me "The Little Bull" or "Big Ted" because my cock is huge. A woman never leaves my bed unsatisfied. I go at it from dusk till dawn. You may have problems walking the next morning.
I'm a gambling man....Love to play Texas Hold Em. One thing you can bet on is that I'm gonna be in that honey box of yours, balls deep. Another thing that you can bet on is that if I drink too much, I'll piss all over you in the middle of the night. Some chicks are into that kinda thing. I think you will adapt.
If you want to call me on my cell, go ahead girl. The digits are 616-283-1572. You can also find me wasting away at the Poker Zone. Peace Bitches!

I strongly encourage those who read this to prank my friend.

5 Ways To Fight A Gorilla

5) With boxing gloves
4) With a samurai sword
3) With the help of Jean Claude Van Damme
2) With the big boxing gloves that look really funny.
1) Why would you want to fight a gorilla? That's fucked up.

The Super Bowl

The playoffs have come to an end. Two teams have conquered and will move on. Kurt Warner,age 67, will try and pull off a cinderella victory. Is it possible to run the ball on that savage Defense that wants to kill you and your entire faimily? Can Arizona's offense match the intensity of the Steeler's D? Can the Cards stop Pittsburgh's running game? These are all the questions one should contemplate when deciding who will win The Lord's game.
The Arizona Cardinals win the NFC. This team is a fluke and does not belong in the Super Bowl. The whole year we've had to hear the talking heads tell us that the NFC is better. Now with the big game on the horizon we are faced with a team that finished the regular season 9-7. Where did all the great teams go? How did they allow this team from the desert to represent them?
The Steelers have won the AFC championship which my gut tells me will be more exciting than the Super Bowl. Another two weeks for the Steelers to rest so that they can annihilate anything that moves. Like my good friend Benny Gonads said, "Steel kills birds." Black and Gold steel will kill the red birds on game day.
Football is a funny sport and often throws curve balls at the viewer. The only truth is in the game itself. That is why the heads and fans have predicted the number one seeds to go to the Super Bowl every year. It is easy to jump on the band wagon.
Steelers win the Super bowl 30-21!

West Michigan Forecast

It's still going to be fucking cold. Looks like the fucking cold isn't going anywhere soon. Bundle the fuck up. Stay the fuck indoors. You'd be fucking crazy to go out in this shit.

Playoffs, Playoffs?

Hello sports fans. Another exciting week in the playoffs wrapped up. My predictions were, how do I say....accurate. Too bad I'm not a degenerate who gambles. I'm just a degenerate who drinks.
The Eagles/Giants game was no surprise. Fans forget that the number one seed loses quite often. Example- The Giants won last year. I hate listening to the talking heads all year long predicting the super bowl. Did anyone really think that New York and Tennessee would play in the greatest game against one another?
Philly fans, Philly fans, Philly fans. I don't know what to say. I guess if I were you or a part of your fraternity, I'd be embarrased. Advice- Don't bitch about how bad your team sucks until they're excluded from the playoffs. The Eagles are going to their 5th NFC Championship in 8 years. Congrats Andy and Donovan. Idea- ship all of the unworthy, spineless, cowardly, shit talking fans to Jersey where they have no team. Better yet, ship them to Detroit so that they have something to bitch about.
Can anyone say holy fucking shit? The Arizona Cardinals are hosting the NFC Championship. Someone pinch me because this must be a wet dream. I have been rooting Arizona on for years now. 3 reasons: I love Phoenix, the uniforms are cool, and if the Cards can do it than Goddamnit the Lions can to.
Baltimore, why would I waste a paragraph on the Ravens? Fuck Flacco, fuck Reid, fuck Ray Lewis the murderer, Fuck their old coach and fuck their new coach, fuck their number 2 defense, fuck the city which is a really nice place, fuck the fans, fuck that fat son of a bitch, Saragusa, who used to play for them. Oops, I used up a paragraph on Baltimore.
I've always saved the best for last and the best are in the magical land of Pittsburgh. The Steelers are a force to be reckoned with. Doubt these words if you wish but Pittsburgh wins the Super Bowl this year. Fortunately, the Steelers have home field advantage in what is going to be a street fight. This will be the most physical game ever in the long history of the Lord's favorite game. "On the 7th day there was football!" Abe 3:16.
If I had my wish, it would be a Pennsylvania super bowl. Hell, we could have it at my high school. That would be weird. However, I don't foresee the Eagles beating the Cards. Arizona is on a role(not to be confused with Samari Rolle). They have the best receiving core and a great leader in Kurt Warner and their defense is actually solid.
Pittsburgh beats Baltimore 21-20. Arizona beats Philadelphia 34-17.

A Letter Written By A Poor A Black Man To His Mother

Dear Mama,

Gots to be bout hundred out on da farm. Sun be cookin like Aunt Bessie's corn bread on da Lord's day. Uhm Goodness. We be doin bout as good as fleas runnin up the stream wid da craw daddies. Ain't no ho daddy gonna spank my behind on down to da stream. Uhm Goodness.
Ole Leon Dempsey been stormin round like some kinda white devil. Boy got himself tangled up in da sticka bush. Uhm Goodness. Gots to bring it on down to da creek. Ain't got no water ain't got no soul. Shit, da man be runnin us up a rope. Bouts to be runnin dat rope some place else. Uhm Goodness.
Da woman be fussin bout nother little one. Says she ain't got no time for no more babies. "Woman," I says, "Don't be ridin no bus widout no paper in yo hand." Uhm Goodness. She know dat dis one mofo widout any sense anough to think twice. Mights got to run a cord upside dat bitches' head. Sorry Mama.
Crops be cummin long good. Melons be bout as ripe as I eva did see em. Ole farmer's son be smashin em up at night. Don't make no sense wastin good melon. If he was my boy, I'd beat him til da sun go down and up again. Uhm Goodness. Ain't much more to write about out here on da farm. Be keepin in touch. Uhm Goodness!

Love yo baby,
Reggie

Breaking The Law

Early February of 2001 was about the time that I was released from county jail in Pittsburgh after ninety days of rehabilitation. I couldn't ask for better weather. It was cold, snowy, and icy. That was just fine for this jail bird who had been released from his cage.
The old gang was about to be reunited with its missing croney. One thing I knew was that heavy drinking would commence shortly after my release. And it did. And it continued for several days until the shit house went up in flames.
Sunday nights in Pittsburgh, Pa are just as good as any other night to drink. Karoake bars are full of dreadful singing and easy women. Drinks are cheap and if you so desire you can be a rockstar for a brief moment in time. We were rock stars that Sunday night.
It was our turn to sing. The karoake DJ was calling for Vinny Jones and Benny Gonads. Two savage bastards that had no reason to be singing. Two drunks preparing themselves for a duet. The song was "Breaking The Law". We slaughtered the rebelious song, chugged a pitcher of beer a piece, and were ready for home.
The crew of degenerates piled in the car and took off into the night. We had no idea what was in store for us but we would soon find out. Benny Gonads, the captain of this ship, set his sails for home. Rough waters lyed ahead. The route that we traveled took us down a long and winding road. On one side of the road was a cliff that would surely take us plummeting to our death. On the other side was a terraced mountain. Stones were set in the wall to prevent erosion from wiping out motorist below.
The radio was blearing some punk band I've heard many times but can not recall. The car was flying around bends. Hysterical laughter filled the car like a thick smoke. Suddenly, everything came to a screaching halt. I remember saying to myself, "Are we here already?" I stepped out of the vehicle to find that the car was imbedded into the side of the mountain. Stones were toppled over onto the hood. The smell of radiator fluid sent a chill up my spine as it has countless times.
The scene of any serious car accident is one of confusion. How did this happen? Is everyone still alive? Where in the hell is the passenger who sat in front of me?
Time to figure this one out. The police would be on their way and time was a factor. We were missing our friend, Jody(passenger sitting shotgun), but after further inspection we realized he must have bolted from the scene. He was on probation and his carcass was nowhere to be found. A likely sign that he was gone. A tow truck magically came around the bend with no cop in sight. A sense of urgency came over benny and myself. If we were going to save Benny from a DUI, then the tow truck driver needed to work fast.
The chains were connected and the truck was pulling but the car wasn't budging. Not that easy to remove a car from the earth. Definately takes time which we had run out of. A cop came around the bend not expecting a car accident. Later the cop stated that he just happened to be in the area. Benny was arrested for DUI and I was given a ride home from the Man.
The police were able to assume from the impact and lack of tire marks that we were travling roughly 35mph when we struck the wall. There was no breaking. One moment Benny is looking at Jody and laughing and the next we were part of a wall.

5 Ways To Not Cum Early

5) Think about sports
4) Think about your bills
3) Think about your parents having sex
2) Think about having a catheder shoved in your piss hole
1) Think about your parents shoving a catheder in your piss hole

West Michigan Forecast

It's going to be fucking cold. There will be a lot of fucking snow. Fortunately, global warming will allow a nice day in a couple of weeks but then it's going to be fucking cold again. There will also be more fucking snow.

Greenland? I Heard I'ts Nice This Time Of Year

Tonight, seated comfortably in my recliner, I watched Current T.V. do a story on global warming in Greenland. A country not used to much vegitation. A country so frigidly cold that they have been supported by Demark, they're parent country, since their existance.
However, change may be in the air for the folks up north. Or in the ozone. Apparently we can't deny it anymore. Fields are green and ice is melting. This once frozen island in the north is becoming the next place to send your daughter on spring break to get raped and killed.
In the show, the young reporter walks into a party store and buys a beer made with freshly, melted, glacier water. He remarks after sipping the beer, "Global Warming never tasted so sweet."
Business seems to be booming in Greenland. As a matter of fact, an ungodly amount of oil and natural gas lie in the depths of this icy land. Denmark wants to start drilling soon. Greenland wants independence soon. Why now? Why not fifty years ago? Pretty obvious to this observer of the media, Money. The old saying, "Don't bite the hand that feeds you!", comes to mind right now. If I were Demark, I'd request all of the money lent to Greenland plus interest like a mortgage. It was lent now you owe.
The undeniable truth is that we are all going to die. You may die from melanoma or you could be killed having a spicy love affair. However, global warming will never be the official cause of your death. Let us embrace global warming. Let us dance in the streets like children high on sugar. As Americans, we deserve to feel rays from the sun beat down on us in the middle of winter.

West Michigan Man At It Again

A west Michigan man, Abraham Young, was awarded the key to the city by the mayor of Grand Rapids Monday night. Young, who you may remember from our story last week,"Man Saves Dog From Aligator" acted heroiclly again. On January 2nd, Young walked into his local bank branch to find a robbery taking place. Five men wearing halloween masks bearing the faces of former presidents were armed and demanding money. Not panicking, he managed to subdue all five men with his knowledge of cheesy movies from the early nineties. Luckily, Keanou Reeves and Gary Busey were there to assist in the arrest.
Young was asked to give a statement to the press later that evening. "Ah, where do I start. I'd like to thank Mr. Reeves and Mr. Busey. They were a big help. I'd like to thank God for getting me through this and ask him why these things keep on happening to me. (press room chuckles) Most importantly, I'd like to thank the creaters of Point Break. Without that movie as a guide, I wouldn't have known what to do in this kind of situation. Thank you."
A bank teller who wished to remain anonymous had this to say, "I feel safer knowing that he is out there. He is an American hero and he is so handsome."
Abraham Young will also be given a $10,000 cash reward. This will probably be spent on his costly drinking habit.

"Playoffs, playoffs?"

Hello sports fans and welcome to another blog entry from your favorite savage. Wild card weekend is wrapped up. What have we learned after this week in the NFL? Well, we learned not to trust my predictions because they are shit. I had both the Cardinals and the Chargers losing. Two out of four isn't bad.

The Divisional playoffs are next. In my opinion, the best week in the NFL. Every game will be a rematch from the regular season- exciting. The Steelers take on San Diego. In the words of the great Ron Burgandy, "Fuck You San Diego!" And in the words of the great Abraham Young, "Fuck You San Diego! If The Steelers lose this one I'm going on a killing spree." Lets hope and pray that the number 1 defense destroys Rivers and Ladainian Tomlinson. Forgive me for not calling him "L.T.", there is only one "L.T." Pittsburgh will crush San Diego.

The other AFC game, Baltimore at Tennessee, scares the living shit right out of my spinchter. If Pittsburgh wins they face the winner of this matchup. Baltimore, a divisional rival, has been beaten by Pittsburgh twice this year. Could they do it a third time? Baltimore always seems to have the Steelers number and they will come to play. On the other hand you have the Titans. A rough and tough team. Pittsburgh suffered one of its losses to Tennessee in the regular season. A game that decided home field advantage throughout the playoffs. I have faith that no matter what happens the Steelers will prevail.

On to the NFC. Is anyone else happy that The Vikings lost. Not only does this make for a great matchup between Philadelphia and New York but we don't have to watch Tavaris Jackson. New York-Philly, this one is going to be fun. Philly fans should be embarrased after all the shit they talked about McNabb. If they win this one it's off to their 5th NFC Championship under their current administration. I'm hoping that the Giants shoot themselves in the leg just like Plaxico Burress did. A Pennsylvania super bowl is all I want for Christmas.

The Panthers host the Cardinals. I'm torn here. On one hand you have the Cardinals who won their first game in the playoffs since 1947. You almost have to root for them to win their second. I love teams that have been terrible forever and turn it around. Arizona allows Lions fans to believe. On the other hand you have Carolina. Steve Smith is an explosive player. Very much like Heinz Ward, Smith not only catches the ball, he also blocks and lays on a helluva hit. I'm not rooting for either team. I just want to see a great game.

My predictions for the Divisional playoffs: Pittsburgh beats San Diego. Baltimore beats Tennessee. Arizona upsets Carolina. Philadelphia beats New York. No predictions on the spread this week.

Destroy The Internet!

Recently I have joined the 21st century. May I say that it is a rotten period in civilization. We must conform. We must obey. We must float like a feather unharmed, untouched, and hardly scathed. Hardly scathed? This is the root of all evil. Buy your ticket and take the ride. We are all in this together.
The Internet, and I dare call it that, is our God. We have finally done it. We have created Pandora's box , and have given it the greatest power ever. The power to never forget. The power to allow all. Finally, it can respond. Big Brother is amongst us. No turning back. No running away. They can sense you, smell you, taste you. Hypocriacy I do not preach. For I have become a victim.

Whiskey!

Whiskey, bourbon, sour mash. A potent drug made from the hill people of the Appalachians. A relief for the many downtrodden. An escape from the every day horrors of family, work, and the stresses of life. The hair of the dog. Grand Father's medicine.
Why is this juice so potent? As I drink and write these words- I dream of the demons within. The day has become night. The night has become 2 in the morning. And still, I sit waiting for the ride. The ride to nowhere. The ride that takes me back to my adolescense. The ride that reminds me of who I am.

Random Thoughts

Farts stink. I'm not a big fan of cats. Beer, no matter what kind, usually taste good. Dogs are cute. Music is better when it is annoying others. Jesus died for our sins. A penis is a strange animal that looks very much like a penis. I think that I may be a pirate. A vagina pirate. When did I decide to be a pirate of genitals? Is this me or an imposter? What has become of this fucking blog? Have I succumbed to the dirty, filfthy internet? Am I what I have always despised? I speak of the enemy, I speak of the sheep, and I speak of those who accept this punishment. Where is my escape?

The Cabby

The year was 1998. It was a cold, December night in Pittsburgh, PA. The time was 1:30 A.M. My late friend, Joe Judson, and I were low on cash and looking for some cheap diner food. The bus was dangerously close to shutting down for the night. With no way home we set off on an adventure via the bus.
We arrived at Denny's with $17.oo, reaking of strong drink and looking like something the cat dragged in. My hair had a bleach blond stripe running down the middle. Joe was sporting blue hair and neither one of us were wearing the kind of attire that people at Denny's would find suitable. Especially at this god awful hour in the morning.
It was time to split and we were stranded. We had $5.00 left. What to do? "I have an idea!", I said. "Lets order a taxi and ditch the ride about three blocks from home. The idea sounded genius to Joe. I made the call from the pay phone and the taxi was there in ten minutes. It was game time.
Now the trick to ditching a cab is very simple. You must become friends with the cabby. You have to take on the Michael Corleone approach. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Tell him whatever he wants to hear. We told him that we had a couple of easy girls waiting for us. This interested him. Now if I know cabbies and I like to think that I do. Then I know that they like to talk about perverted topics. This reminded him of a story of his own. Pretending to listen we were both plotting our escape. "Hey buddy, we need to stop and get some smokes at the BP gas station. Do you mind stopping?", I asked. Response, "No, not a problem. I need to use the pay phone anyways." This was our chance.
The BP was a 1/4 of a mile from our apartment. We strolled inside and purchased our cigarettes. There was no turning back. It was now or never. We walked out into the cold and headed the opposite direction of the taxi. He wasn't fooled and immeadiately gave chase. We ran. The cabby knew that he had a better chance of catching us if he got out on foot.
Now I've never been much of an athlete and running is definately not one of my favorite things to do. Joe was gone with the wind and I was left in the dust. The cabby was gaining on me. My lungs were on fire and the cold air was not aiding me in any way. I had to stop to catch my breath. Meanwhile, the cabby is running with a mag light and screaming simultaneusly, "How does it feel to get your fucking head bashed in for $7.00?" How do you answer a crazed lunatic when you can't even breath?
With lung capacity back at 30% and the cabby only ten yards away, it was time to start running.This enraged him and his cries began to take on a demonic sound. There was hatred deeply seeded in this man. Killing me seemed to take presidence over the cash. Fortunately, I was able to escape this mad man and live to tell the story of the mag light waving cabby.

In Memory Of My Friend- Joseph Judson

5 Ways To Make Home Made Pizza

5) In the nude
4) In the nude with your family
3) with a monkey
2) with a monkey while watching Family Feud
1) In the nude with your family and a monkey while watching Family Feud

Man Saves Dog From Aligator

A west Michigan man, Abraham Young(29), had quite an exciting Christmas this year. Young was on vacation in Florida when he witnessed a black lab being attacked by an aligator. Bystanders said that Young came to the rescue by repeatedly bashing a steel rod off the gator's head. One man said, "It was unlike anything I've ever seen. He was agile like a tiger. He had the strength of a bear. He is a true American hero." The dog was fine and seemed to be very thankful. Then it bit its owner for not helping. Young was quoted saying, "Yeah I saw that little fucker gettin all chewed up. Hell, I had no choice. It was like God said get on over there dude. Its just a gator man. That's when I knew I had to do something. Aside from that I hate fucking gators. One killed my cousin back in 84."

5 Ways Not To Run A Marathon

5) On crack
4) With a head full of acid
3) While having sex
2) While masturbating
1) While masturbating someone else's genitals