Archive for the ‘Random’ Category

Go Cats

Sunday, November 21st, 2010

Every year the Cats/Griz game is a big deal to Montanans, and this year the MSU Bobcats pulled out a 21-16 victory. This is a pretty big deal, since the last MSU victories came in 2005, 2003, and 2002. Prior to that, MSU hasn’t gotten a victory since 1985. That means that U of M kicked ass through half the Regan era, and all of Bush Sr. and Clinton’s eras.

The main reason I root for MSU is because they have all my money. That’s the deal. You go to a school, go into heavy debt, and then cheer for those bastards for the rest of your life while you eat Top Ramen. I have shitty luck when it comes to my “home teams.” I remember the Bobcat victory in 2002, because I graduated in 2001. For four years I cursed the blue and gold for being a bunch of losing assholes that dropped every one of those rivalry matches. Then – as soon as I’m gone, they pull out two straight. Fuck you! That happened to me in high school as well. As far as I know, the Billings West High Bears never won a football championship prior to my time there. I graduated in 1997. As soon as I got my diploma, the team went apeshit, winning pretty much all the games for the better part of the next decade. I know they got the school’s first tittle in 1998, and I think they’ve gotten a few more since then. So, fuck them too. Why do my teams get good when I stop caring?

Honestly, between you and me, I don’t even really like Bozeman anymore. Because of good ol’ MSU, I’m up to my eyes in debt for an education that fell drastically short of preparing me for the real world. On top of that, yuppies have invaded the town, sucking all the fun and soul out of the town. Nowadays, the cops are rough on drinking, there are a couple high-fallootin’ wine bars, as well as box stores like Home Depot, IHOP, Borders, and so on. It’s not the rowdy Mom & Pop town it once was (that I loved).

However, I realized today, even if I hadn’t gone to school in Bozeman, I would probably still root for the Cats. It’s not because I like an underdog. It’s because Griz fans are a fancy pack of pricks. There are a lot of people that specifically root against the Yankees or the Cowboys because the fans are such irritating sphincters. Missoula fans think they’re superior because the football team is consistently good. I would be fine with their sickening loyalty if they were former U of M students that are as deep in debt as I am — but they’re not. U of M has legions of fans that didn’t even go to college. I wonder if some of these idiots even have a GED. I watched the game in Billings at Hooligans Sports Bar. Three quarters of the room was dressed in maroon, sitting sullen, because their champions were losing to a rival that they almost always beat (69-36-5, if you’re keeping track). There was one small chunk of the bar sitting in the back corner of the bar like Rosa Parks, dressed in blue and gold, cheering for a school we had actually attended.

Part of our enthusiasm was the victory itself. It was like a crowd excited to see Haley’s Comet – you never know if you’re going to see that shit again in your lifetime. The other thrill was watching the pompous Griz fans pay their bar tabs with dead, gray eyes, and leave. Odds are, the Griz will win again next year. But, in the meantime — eat shit Grizzlies, go Cats go.

Seat Belt Laws

Wednesday, March 18th, 2009

Call me crazy, but I think seat belt laws are ludicrous. Luckily, I live in Montana where the laws are as relaxed as can be. Montana has secondary seat belt laws, meaning a cop can’t pull you over for not wearing your seat belt — but if he catches you for some other automotive indiscretion and notices you’re not buckled-up, you’ll get stuck with a $30 ticket on top of whatever else you’re getting busted for. Those poor, soggy bitches in Washington have primary seat belt laws, meaning cops can pull you over if they noticed you’re not buckled-up, and stick you in the jugular with a $125 fine.

First of all, how can this be a law, and why do we put up with that shit? We just go along with everything like neutered sheep, “Well, it’s the law, so we’d better blah, blah, blah… Safety first, I always say, blah, blah, blah.” I’m not saying don’t wear a seat belt, but I’m simply suggesting that if you choose not to, you shouldn’t be punished by law for it. It’s like banning cigarettes in all bars. If you run a business and it’s your choice to be smoke-free, then great! You and your pussy patrons can clank your Michelob Ultra bottles together and listen to The Carpenters while admiring each others’ scarves. Unfortunately the Government knows what’s best for us, and is slowly stipping away our freedoms in bite-sized nibbles. They do it in incraments so small, we barely notice it or care.

Last year in the US, 41,000 people died in auto accidents. Since we are a nation that values lives, we think we can shrink this number if we all wear seat belts. Now – on average, we annually lose 1,500,000 lives to cardiovascular disease and cancer, caused by our shitty, fat, American diet and smoking. There are a lot of drunk driving stats out there that are supposed to scare the shit out of you (drunk driving is responsible for over half of auto fatalities, so roughly 22,000 deaths a year). Because we care, drunk driving is understandably illegal. However, to put this in perspective… when you’re in your car and you look over at the car next to you, and you see some fat douchebag shoving a Big Mac into his/her head, or they’re smoking a cigarette, they’re 68 times more likely to die from they shit they’re putting into their body than getting struck by a drunk driver. However, Pall Malls and McDonalds will never be illegal, because the money generated through taxes, insurance hikes, and medical bills are pretty sweet to our benevolent Government that runs shit – but cares for us. (Last year, our Government pocketed over $34.3 billion on cigarettes alone.)

Back to the point of seat belts. It seems we don’t care about poor people, because there is not a seat belt to be found in any bus I’ve ever been in. Also, some poor people can only afford cars built in the Flintstone era, which don’t always come equipped with belts. What about motorcyclists? I don’t give a shit if they wear a helmet or leathers. The way some of these knuckleheads drive, if they hit a rock the wrong way they’ll skid until 80% of their flesh looks like Freddie Krueger’s taint. It would stand to reason that a person could drive a car and opt to wear the helmet in leiu of the belt. That might be the safest drive of all. People might assume you’re eight shades of ‘tarded and give you the breathing room you desire on the road. But what do I know. Trust your Government. They know you better than you do (and they care more too).

Michael Phelps: Olympic Water > Bong Water > Hot Water

Wednesday, February 4th, 2009

Once again, it’s time for parents and zealous goodniks to have the passionate conversation: Are there no more heroes in the world?! I guess he’s a hero, so much as one can be when your occupation is swimming. Personally, I find Aquaman to be a more suitable underwater hero. However, for a brief moment, Phelps made Americans feel proud about being Americans when he won eight gold medals at the 2008 Olympics in Beijing. Actually, he’s acquired more Olympic medals, gold or otherwise, than any human who has ever lived. If that doesn’t make you want to put him on a Wheaties box, shed a tear, and wave a flag, then you’re a communist – brother!

And now a picture has surfaced with our “hero” smoking pot — out of a bong, no less. Doesn’t he realize that children might look up to him? I mean, the man is a fantastic swimmer. Those are the role models we give to our kids. Athletes. I’ll get to our role models here in a second, but I’ve got to stick with Phelps specifically for a second.

I remember during the Olympics, there were news stories buzzing around about how the lanky, chinless swimmer had a 12,000 calorie-a-day diet. People were shaking their heads in befuddlement. How on Earth does he do that? POT, motherfucker, that’s how! Do you know how stoned you have to be to work up that kind of an appetite every day?

So we’ve now solved that little mystery, but how do you account for his ability to work like he did? I was under the impression that marijuana was the A1 killer for motivation and work ethic. In that sense, it makes me appreciate his accomplishments all the more. Steroids are performance enhancing drugs, but this guy sweeps the field while on performance hindering drugs. That’s amazing, folks. Maybe we should as a country revisit why weed is a illegal. We can’t make criminals out of our heros now, can we?

I guess the world still has heroes, but the older a person gets, the less and less they tend to look up to people. Thankfully age makes people believe in themselves, and not in other people or things (which may explain why 17 year old kids need clothes with Aeropastale plastered on the front, and 40 year old people with jobs don’t). So — I accept that there are heroes and/or role models, but I only do so with the caveat that all of them come with serious baggage.


These are the guys that get tons of credit, admiration, and money (not to mention – probably a ton of pussy, too) for doing nothing whatsoever to offer any nourishment for anybody’s psyche or well being. At best, they’re entertaining. When I was a kid, I idolized Magic Johnson. I remember hearing the news when he got HIV and had to retire from professional basketball. I went outside, slooped down on the front steps and cried. It took a while for me to come to grips with the fact that somebody I admired so much was capable of living the type of nefarious lifestyle that would give him such a terrible disease.

Magic opened my eyes. I realized that pretty much everybody anybody could admire has serious problems. I’m sure if we knew the actual figures of how many athletes abuse illegal substances, steroids or otherwise, it would blow our minds and break our hearts. That, or we’d become desensitized and not care — which is where I am now. Plaxico Burress walks around with guns, Kobe may or may not be a rapist, and OJ is a walking bag of shit 24/7. The list goes on and on.


Let’s look at our last three presidents. President Obama has admitted to using pot. Clinton smoked pot. Screw the whole, “I didn’t inhale” bullshit. He smoked pot. Then you’ve got GW who was a coke addict and an alcoholic. That is, of course, until he “found” God (oh, there he is). You’ve got Rush Limbaugh, who I loathe but many admire, and he’s a pill popper. You’ve got former Senator Mark Foley sending x-rated instant messages to his underage pages. Then there is Ted Haggard (former leader of a Christian mega-church in Colorado, and also was a spiritual advisor to the White House) who bought meth and had sex with a male prostitute. The departed racist Jesse Helms who had a black love child. Again, this list goes on and on and on.


You’re going to be real hard pressed to find greats in this category who didn’t have some sort of serious peccadillos. Growing up, these were the idols I had who made me realize that everybody did drugs, or did something of a nature my parents wouldn’t approve. It doesn’t matter the genre: Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Eric Clapton, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, Willie Nelson; or comics like Bill Hicks, Richard Pryor, Rodney Dangerfield, George Carlin, Mitch Hedberg…


I’ve looked up to and admired many people in my life, and while they’ve all done remarkable things and inspired millions of people, their problems tended to mute my appreciation of them. However, through my whole life, there’s been someone close to me my whole life who could be considered a real hero: my mother. Granted, she doesn’t play the jazz trumpet, write the funnies stories ever, or catch game-winning touchdowns (except for that one time…), but she’s been good to me my whole life and supported everything I’ve ever done with love. She doesn’t drink. She doesn’t smoke. She goes to church. She pays her taxes. She teaches third grade. She’s never screwed anybody over. Some people turn to drugs for comfort and escape. My mom turns to anything with sugar and/or butter and The Game Show Network. All these years I neglected to realize how close a hero can be.

Michael Phelps isn’t a turd for smoking pot. He’s a turd for sounding like a dumbshit when he went on talk shows to promote his book with the clichéd title, No Limits. But he’s an even bigger turd for trying to apologize after his bong picture got leaked. Do you honestly think he feels sorry about smoking pot? No! He’s sorry he got busted. Now he’s just a big, lying dork.

Jesus. How in the shit did I get from Michael Phelps smoking pot to my mother being a hero? This is definitely getting filed in the rant section. Sorry I made you go through all that.

Bruce Springsteen is Why America Sucks/Rocks

Monday, February 2nd, 2009

Mumbling his way to millions since 1972

Mumbling his way to millions since 1972

Bruce Springsteen. You’ve really got to admire the guy. He put on one hell of a performance at the Super Bowl. It was charming right from the start. Springsteen was standing back-to-back with Clarence Clemmons, backlit behind a curtain. The curtain rises and it looks like Bruce is about to rock out on his guitar, but as the first number is being counted out, he chucks the guitar away from him. Well played, Bruce. Well played.

I admire The Boss for the same reason I admire guys like Bob Dylan. Sure, they’re crafty songwriters, but what is truly amazing is how they managed to become pop icons with no ability to sing whatsoever. The man can barely hit a pitch, and he mumbles through everything. One can only understand about every twelth word, and it’s always something like “America,” “girl,” or “Cadillac.”

This is why America is so wonderful. You can be a huge success in this country through hard work, determination, and charisma. Talent and skill hold no bearing. You just love how raw and gritty it is. I’d much rather listen to the buzzsaw of a voice that Springsteen has (it really does look like he hasn’t taken a shit since the Regan administration), over the polished voice of Josh Groban, who’s voice has a methadone-like effect.

I’ll grant immunity to The Boss for his success despite the fact he isn’t what you would call a musical virtuoso. However, there are other talentless people have successful careers, and it gets under my skin because they lack ability, balls, charisma, etc. (i.e. Kid Rock, The Jonas Brothers, Miley Cyrus, most rappers, and the list could go on and on). The Boss tends to be a blessing, where the rest of the “products” we are told to like make up the curse of this country’s music industry.

On a side note, I was really dissapointed that Clarence Clemmons didn’t have a wardrobe malfunction. That would have brought a smile to my face.

How I Want To Die

Sunday, February 1st, 2009

Death. It’s a big, ugly thing we all have to go through at some point. There are several ways to die, and people tend to summarize the departed’s demise with some sense of nobility. Some people die by serving honorably in defense of our freedom. Others lose a battle to cancer. People that die of old age led a full, rich life. Even if tragedy strikes, be it from a gunshot or an automobile accident, people will say something heartfelt about the deceased. This, I suppose, is probably how it should be.

However, given recent news, I think there are some awfully silly ways to die. If you are up on your current events, you’ll know that there was a recall on peanut butter products sold by King Nut Companies because it caused a salmonella outbreak. They linked this to a few peoples’ deaths. It made me realize that there are some real suck ways to die. (My apologies for using ’suck’ as an adjective.)

That has to be the worst possible way to die. “Dude, I heard Jeremy died. What happened?”

“Motherfucker ate a PB&J and he dropped dead.”

(Pause for seven minutes of dumbfounded silence.)

“That’s gotta be the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”


That’s why I want to get hit by a meteor. We’ve all got to go one way or another - I’d like to go in a really unique way that will stick in people’s minds for quite some time.

“Hey, did you hear that Korb died?”

“Hell yes! He got mowed over by a Goddamned meteor!”

I find that to be far more suitable than dying from eating a tasty treat like peanut butter.

Show Midgets Some Love

Friday, January 23rd, 2009

The past presidential election constantly reminded us of race and gender. They told us that those things aren’t a factor, but we all know they are. “Hillary could be the first woman president!” “Obama could be the first black president!” Unless you’re the first human to do something, you can only get accolades if you’re the first woman or African American to do that same thing. In 1997, Madeleine Albright became the first woman to serve as the US secretary of state. In 1947, Jackie Robinson was the first African American to join major league baseball. Let me ask you this – who was the first Mexican to go into outer space? Who is the first Asian to win a grammy? Nobody knows. It would seem as though nobody cares. Women can complain all they want about having to work harder to succeed in a man’s world, but at least we can pat them on the back when they achieve something. Let’s face it: we leave a lot of people out – namely – midgets.

Midgets get shit on all they time, and it’s not because they’re so close to our asses. When was the last time you ever heard a first for a midget? Never! You’ve never heard of it! Why don’t we ever give them love? Earlier I mentioned Jackie Robinson. I’m not trying to diminish his accomplishment because it was extremely significant for our cultural fabric. But, have you ever heard of a man named Eddie Gaedel? He was 3’7” and he played in a professional baseball game on August 19, 1951 for the St. Louis Browns. That’s right ladies and gentlemen – a midget in professional sports. That should be super fucking impressive, but the problem was that Gaedel’s appearance was a joke and publicity stunt. He made one at-bat, where he was instructed to “stay low.” The pitcher threw four consecutive balls, where Gaedel made it to first base and was replaced by a pinch runner. To me, that sounds like genius coaching, but it became a big joke.

I suppose the reason we attach labels to these “firsts” is because that individual had to overcome serious adversities like racism. Condoleeza Rice is a big winner, because she is a successful woman AND African American. When will we see a midget running for any political office? We’d probably just laugh if we heard he was out stumping. He’d probably have a slogan like “Think Big.” We still suck from time to time as a culture. In terms of our government, I can’t recall if any state has elected an openly gay person. And, if they ‘become’ gay while they’re in office, we kick them out and shame them for a few months. At least midgets are honest enough to be open about their stature. They don’t hide in the closet and tell you they’re tall. Now that I think about it, that’s a tough lie to pull off.

Any achievement that stems from an intellectual endeavor should be limited to the first human to do it, whether you’re black, white, female, Mexican, gay, Mormon… whatever. If you’re the first, that’s it. The brain is the ultimate equalizer. If the accomplishment is physical, I’ll still look on with interest. I’d love nothing more than to see a midget in the NFL or NBA. The closest we got was watching Mugsy Bogues play professional basketball at 5’3”. If you’re a basketball fan, I know you had an electric boner watching 5’7” Spud Webb win the slam dunk competition. I’ll give a midget props anytime they make regular people look silly in a physical sport. The only time I’d laugh at a midget is if he/she lost in a limbo contest. I don’t care how sensitive you are, that’d be funny as hell.

It’s nice to see people succeed. In today’s society, it seems the more labels a person has, the better and/or worse their life is. Some people will pat you on the back, other people won’t give you a shot at anything. I imagine we’re a long way from seeing anybody in our government who is a black Jewish woman midget with alopecia.

Long story short (ha, ha, ha, ha, that was a killer pun) a person should receive a pat on the back if they are able to accomplish something if their success is in opposition of their affliction. The following would be great examples of what I’m getting at: Michael J. Fox wins a Jenga or Operation tourney. Stephen Hawking wins a Grammy for his singing. Heather Mills wins a three-legged race. Paris Hilton becomes the first bulimic to win an eating contest. Stevie Wonder becomes the first blind man to win a staring contest. George Bush is the first visibly stupid person to become president.

I Have A Problem With Prostitution

Saturday, December 6th, 2008

I hate prostitution, but probably not for the reason most people hate it. I’m not saying we should do away with it — I’m simply saying it isn’t for me.

First off, I think prostitution should be legal. I understand why murder, drunk driving, and theft are illegal, but when it comes to prostitution I can’t find where anybody is a victim. Look at Elliot Spitzer. He paid a lot of money to get a smokin’ hot lady to have sex with him. She did it willingly. He willingly paid the money to let some out-of-his-league woman bust his nut. Who’s getting hurt here? Everybody knows what they’re getting into. The whore got a hearty amount of rent money, and the ex-Governor released a little tension by cumming in her face. Sounds like a win-win.

Personally, however, I can’t stand the idea of paying for sex. It’s as if the prostitute thinks you’re so repulsive, the only way she’ll jump on top of your miserable body is if you give her hundreds of dollars. Maybe if you look like Don Knots and haven’t known a woman’s touch for over 40 years it might sound like a good idea. Even then, if you’re that lonely and sexually repressed, you’ll probably reach climax within two minutes, and you’ll be kicking yourself in the morning for wasting that much money.

My biggest problem is: why does MY fucking orgasm have a price tag? That’s bullshit. What if she’s a multi-orgasmic woman? Say she gets three or four orgasms before you finally shoot your man-ranch, then you hold each other trying to catch your breath. Smiling. You both had fun – then she asks you for $300. How on Earth could she do that with a straight face? That’s like going to a garage to have some guy rotate your tires, and having that guy tell you, “Hey, while I fix your tires, do you think you could go over there to my car and fix my alternator for me? Yeah. That one. Thanks a million. By the way, that’ll be $300.” You’d probably tell him to fuck off. If I get off, and YOU get off, I’d say we’re even. If I ever visited a prostitute, I’d be awful — out of spite (not out of natural ability). If I’m paying to blow my load, I’m going to make certain she’s not enjoying herself one bit. Not if I’m paying for it anyways.

Spitzer swallows?

Spitzer swallows?