Cats can learn about technology, but can you teach them?

Cats can learn about technology, but do you know what it takes to teach them?

Hey there Albert Ninestein!  Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you.  So you wanna teach your cat about technology, do ya’?  Good luck.  I don’t think you have the capacity or the interpersonal skills to manipulate scientific information well enough for a cat to understand.  However, if you think that you can teach a cat, there is a way.

You’ll need to follow closely if you’re going to teach your cat anything.  First, you have to get a cat.  Got one?  Six.  Wow.  That’s a lot.  Well, pick one and get the others some tuna, they’re gonna wanna watch this.  Next, take the lucky winner and sit him down in an inexpensive, steel-framed computer chair.

You might use duct tape to keep his paws strapped down and his eye lids peeled open (don’t worry, cats can’t feel and he’s really gonna wanna see this).  Once the monster is firmly locked down, grab a burlap sack and quickly slip it over the chair.  Hurry, there isn’t much time.  Flip the chair upside down and pull the bag as far up as you can.

Get ready to close the bag, but before you do, round up the other five tuna lovers and throw them in the bag too.  Tie off the end using a twine rope.  Next, throw the cat sack in the trunk of your car.  Make sure that you throw it hard enough to silence any terrified meowers; you don’t want to have to answer any silly questions about the “cat noises coming from your trunk” should you happen to get pulled over.

Don’t worry too much if you didn’t quiet them all on the first throw, the exhaust fumes that go into the trunk when you drive off should put those little buggers out in a heartbeat.  Now, drive.  Find a secluded spot in a forest where a river runs deep.  Remove the cats from the trunk and shake the bag.

Wake them up.  Are they riled?  Good.  Now, toss the whole sack into the river.  The chair will help sink the bag as the cats try to claw their way out.  There.  That oughta teach ’em.

Go hear the audio for this blog at The Boy’s Club for Men.

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“Huh? Whoa! What are you doing?”

“I’m, ummm.  Let me just…”

“No, no, no!  You’re sleeping.  Get your hands off me.”

“C’mon, baby.  You know I love you.  Let me just kiss it one time.”

“You’re asleep.  You don’t know what you’re doing. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m even not sleep.  Let me just touch once.  C’mon, baby.  I’m love oo.”

“Everytime I say yes you either get half way through and collapse or you wake up half way through and yell at me.  I can’t bear it.”

“You know you want sthis me.  Juss gimme a kiss.”

“You won’t remember.  I’m not doing this.  I’m so tired!”

“I’m just gonna get some uh….this tasty. Mmmmm. C’mon now, I like to do it for you!  Baby…please?”

“Well, if you’re not asleep, I guess, maybe, uhhh!  Alright.  But make it quick, I have to get up in…uhhh…four hours.”

“Put me in.”

“Goddamn it!  You’re so flippin’ heavy!”

“Oh yeah.  Do you like it hard?  You make me so hard.  Oh, yeah.  This is so, so, so, so hot.  You’re so pretty, too.”

“You’re not even in.  Hold on, Jesus…there.”

“Oh yeah.  Is that the spot?  Oh yeah….huh?  Wha?”

“Are you awake now?”

“What are you doing?!  Ahhhhhh! What?  Get off of me!  Why am I all wet?  Ahhh!

“This happens every time! What are you doing?”

“Why do you do this to me?  It’s like you manipulate me in my sleep for your own pleasure!  Why didn’t you just wake me, we could’ve done this consentually?”

“What are you talking about?!  You woke me up!  Are you even going to finish?  WTF? I was so close.”

“I’m scared for my life!  You’re sick!”

“I can’t believe this.  Every time.  What is wrong with you?”

“I’m tired.  I’m going to sleep.  I can’t believe this.”

“Yeah, you can’t believe this.  I can’t even…uhh!  You’re a fricking idiot.”

“I know you didn’t mean that.  Goodnight.  I love you.”

“Where’s my Rabbit?”

“Oh, baby, that’s hot.  Let me juss touch it.”

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Do you ever struggle to wake up and it stays with you all day?  Well, that’s me…everyday.  It may be due to a lack of sleep but I have a sneaking suspicion I’m tired for some of these reasons:

10. I’m kept up all night by the sound of the cat noshing bunny skulls.

9. The monster under my bed wants spare change and keeps rattling a can of nickels.

8. My wet dreams smell like curdled milk.

7. The wad of toilet paper that maximizes sweat and smell absorption stuffed between my butt cheeks is all itchy (it’s been referred to as a “manpon”).

6. Instead of dinner, I did some meth and drank a Camel Pak of Mountain Dew.

5. I am fraught with woes about the economy of my ant farm.  There just isn’t enough sugar water to go around.

4. My body is trying to work off the calories I consumed from eating all of these spiders that were looking for a warm place to die.

3. Peeing in the pool makes it warmer.  Peeing in the bed makes it wet.

2. My boogers are so dense and gooey that I can hardly breathe when I eat them.

-And Finally-

1. I am kept awake by loud farts…my loud farts.

 

Did I miss something?  Tell me some of the things that keep you awake.

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Tookie is my cat and we live on the third story of a condominium building.  He is extraordinary in every way.  He is cute and fun like a small human.  He bites hard and sleeps well.  Even the way his huge craps stink is immaculate.  Unfortunately for him, he is an outdoor cat trapped inside a indoor cat’s house.  Sometimes, however, he is allowed out when I leave the house and the neighbors are gone.  And this is where one of his best features kicks in.  In order to get back into the condo after I let him outside, he doesn’t just wait at the front door making a scene for no one to hear like all the other idiot cats out there.  No, he’s better than that.  Using pure prowess and power, grace and skill, he scales the back side of our building with his cat-like claws and incredible strength.  He jumps on our back porch and comes in through a dog door I paid for with my mother’s retirement money.  This morning, I let Tookie outside a little earlier than usual so that he could exercise his handsome feline features.  Which he did.

Tookie sometimes reminds me just how close to nature we actually live.  We are a mere 20 yards from open space and, because of this Tookie and I have an agreement:  He may only take memories and leave only footprints.  Today he violated that agreement.  He caught, maimed, killed, carried up the building, sat down on my kitchen floor with, and devoured the head of a baby rabbit (otherwise known as a cutie or a babbit).  It’s pretty incredible what my cat is capable of.  It’s even more incredible how much he can just kill an innocent creature with no remorse only minutes after I fed him.  But I’m not even mad; I’m actually a little proud.  Look what he can do!  Commit murder?  The thing is I just don’t want to clean up his pukes.  Maybe if I leave it, my lover, JDubs, will clean it up with a trash sack and spare me the trouble.

Tookie eats like a man

Tookie eats rabbits like a man juggles; with balls

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These are just  some of the reasons I shave my balls:  I pride myself on being clean and proper; I also try to keep myself current with popular trends; my lover really appreciates round, smooth and hairless objects (she has allergies); if my pubic hair gets too long it pulls when it gets caught in clothing or between me and a chair.  Additionally, long pubes are harder to clean than short; trapping moisture, dingle-berries and, consequently, smell.  The way I see it cleanliness is pleasant.

As much as I like my balls well kept, I find that it’s a chore to get them clean and shaved.  However, I have developed a system that allows me to shave them like the dickens and gets the chore out of the way quickly.  I find that timing is everything.  I schedule my shavings around my face razors.  When they get too dull for my face, I take them directly to my nuts (nothing’s too good for my ball sack).  The hair cutting process is a two-parter which includes the trim and the shave.

(1.) The Trim – hover directly over a toilet with a set of hair cutting sheers, hips pushed forward to get the clippings into the toilet, grab a hand full of nuts, keep your head down and go to town.

(2.) The Shave (post trim)- sit in a bath tub, dull razor in hand, legs up and out, ass cheeks spread with butt hole puckered right up to the cold cast iron tub, balls lifted, shaving cream slathered all over, hot water running slightly, get shaving mister.

I usually reserve this activity for non-public showers with locking doors.  I feel awkward doing it and, to onlookers, I probably look like I border on the side of auto-erotic masochism.  Whatever.  I like the way it makes me feel.  I also like when my lover esses my dee.  Unfortunately, she won’t go near me when my pubes are as long and as thick as night crawlers.  Do I have a choice?

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You may wonder, how?  The real question is how not?

You may wonder, how? The real question is how not?

“A man needs a woman like a fish needs a bicycle” is one of the best analogies I have ever heard.  Not only is this statement completely incomprehensible but it’s also misinformed.  I will explain why, for that very reason, this sentence is fantastic!  First of all, fish don’t need bikes, they’ve got their own means of conveyance.  It’s called current.  Also, fish need water to live.  Have you ever gotten your bike wet?  Good luck getting upstream with a rusty chain.  Attention all wannabe bipedal fish: If a rust bucket paperweight is your dream, you might as well absorb all the mercury you can and turn belly up.  Pathetic. 

Conversely, it is a true fact that every man needs a woman.  Guys are pigs.  They’re gross.  They eat gruel and fart and stir up trouble.  Women are clean and well-mannered.  Women are the world’s great equalizers.  When dudes are rowdy, chicks calm them down.  When the fellas are just kicking it and chillin, the ladies come into the room screaming.  If it were up to men, nothing would get done.  Lawns would go unmowed; gifts would go unwrapped, TVs would be watched.  If it were up to women, well, I don’t want to think about that.

To be perfectly honest, the only reason I’m writing this is because a woman is standing behind me with her finger on the trigger of a very sawed off shotgun.  Women take life seriously.  They’ve got things to do and people to do and guns to point.  And that’s ok with me.  If I didn’t have a strong motivational woman behind telling me to get up and get going, I probably wouldn’t.  What kind of life would that be?  That would be like a fish with a bicycle and that’s no good for everybody.  Regardless of what the statement says, I still like it.

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I am as liberal as Adolf Hitler was gay…flamingly.  You want abortions, take two.  You want affordable heath care, have some.  Taxes?  I love taxes.  I’ll pay yours.  That’s how frickin’ left I am.  You might be reading this thinking, “this assh*le is a borscht loving, Stalin sucking, rabbit eating Communist!”  Thank you for thinking that, but no.  It’s simply outrageous!  Truthfully, I’m only borderline Communist.  And actually, I’m moving away from that.  I’m growing up.  I’m becoming a small, bearded man.  You see, my understanding of true communism is that, as a member of the party, each person works as he pleases and is compensated according to his needs.  It’s like skirting through life doing your hobbies.  “Hey kid!  You’re really good at video games and rippin bingers from your bonger.  Here have a boiled goat’s head and a bag of KGB Branded Funyuns.  And kid…keep up the good work!”  Truly amazing.  The thing is, though, it’s not that amazing you crazy dreamer.  You might be saying to yourself, “That would be pretty cool.  But, gee whiz.  Something that awesome couldn’t ever happen in my America.”  Bullsh*t.  That stuff happens everyday in your America.  And that’s why I’m not Communist.  Not only could I sit around playing video games while dabbling in my other “hobbies”, in America, I can get paid to do it.  Paid to do what you love?  America, f*ck yeah!  America is a land of opportunity.  Golden, plentiful, tig ol’ bitty opportunity!  Yeah, you may have to work hard and play politics and beat out competition to reach your pie in the sky, boiled goat’s head dreams.  But you can do it.  And with an understanding of marketing and merchandising, you could be living big just by doing what you love.  Just remember to pay your taxes when you start making your buko bucks  and maybe, just maybe, pick up one of those BOGO abortions for yourself.  After all, you earned it.

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Theres only one way to ruin a babys day that I know of

I can only think of one way to ruin a baby's day

I have lived a full and gratifying life filled with lemonade and cherry pits.  As I approach a ripe old age in my life, I have been provided with valuable lessons that I need to share with you….now:

10. Douche bags are inside of pussies for one reason: they’re giant pricks.

9. Canned produce is just as bit as nutritious and delicious as hobo piss.  Do yourself a solid and buy fresh or frozen.

8. Challenge authority.

7. An open mind will set you free.  You’ll never hear a gay man say, “Hey, that doesn’t go there!”

6. Learning to cook feeds the soul’s desire to eat.

5. Own your smell.  Showering is for honorable men.

4. Ditch your values and friends to the highest bidder.  Selling out is the new buying in.

3. Best friends make the best lovers.

2. Whenever you can, jerk off your biggest sex toy; your mind.

- And Finally-

1. Once a rectal thermometer, always a rectal thermometer.

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Sage men open wide

Sage men open wide

Sometimes you see something that you’re not expecting and realize how unprepared you are for the unpredictable.  I was flashed by a set of old, wrinkly knockers on the interstate once and I almost ran off the road.  I feel that if the incident had taken place in a bar or a bedroom, I would have been less shocked.  The fact that it was outdoors really threw me for a loop.  More recently, I fell victim to another similar event and found myself mystified at my inability to react appropriately.

I went to the supermarket just a day ago and followed an older man in.  He was short and thin.  His hair was grey.  His broken and bent posture gave me the impression that he had been working his entire life.  As I followed him into the store, my gaze veered downward to see my next step.  As I began to look down, I noticed his brightly colored teal and red plaid shirt under a set of grey suspenders.  The suspenders were supporting his tarnished blue jeans.  My eyes lowered just past his shirt tail and stopped.  At his lower waist line, where a normal person’s shirt might have been tucked into his pants, I saw that this man’s bare ass was completely exposed.  It was as if his suspenders had grown as weak and weary as he had and had completely given up.  His shirt tail ended just below the top half of his butt and his pants hung just below his cheeks.  If he had bent over for some unknown reason I would have been subject to the gory sight of old man balls (sorry Grandma, I don’t know how you do it).

In an attempt to capture this moment in time for all eternity, I reached for my cell phone.  The man grabbed a shopping cart from the corral and I quickly followed.  As he began his shopping trip I trailed him closely all the while fumbling with my smart phone to activate the camera application.  By the time I was able to pull off a good shot from four feet away, the man had realized the breeze between his knees and had begun to correct his situation.  It must have been an interesting scene; me arms extended holding the camera following an old man who’s ass was clearly exposed.  Not the day I was expecting, yet still I was disappointed.  I didn’t get a shot on the camera.  I was only able to capture a mental image of an old, wrinkly, surprisingly hairless and tan, liver-spotted ass that will live with me for all time.  I left the old man and finished my shopping trip.  I gained some valuable knowledge that day: always be ready for the unexpected because that’s all there is.

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Communication is the key to a healthy relationship.  Its what separates dogs from other animals.

Communication is the key to a healthy relationship. It's what separates dogs from other animals.

I am no expert in the area, but I’ve been around the block once…if you know what I mean;)  I’m talking about commitment.  Sure, weird things happen in that “honeymoon” phase, but once you’ve moved on, you have to decide whether or not your partner(s)/animal/fetish is going to make it the long haul.  Do you think you’re ready to take the plunge?  See how your relationship habits stack up.  The following list pits the signs of a good relationship versus the signs of a bad relationship against each other to determine why all your relationships fail miserably.

Know Thy Self:

Knowing what kind of person you are will determine what kind of person you are looking for in a relationship.  Do have goals and ambitions?  Are you happy being a flake?  If you haven’t the faintest clue who you are or who you want to be, may God have mercy on us all.  Solid understanding of yourself provides you with the confidence and wherewithal to make healthy decisions that might otherwise demise your partnership.

Signs of a Good Relationship Signs of a Bad Relationship
Listen for phrases like:-“I want to grow with you”

-“Let’s compromise”

-“I love you for who you are”

-“Yeah, I’m ticklish”

Look for insincere and extremely repetitive use of these generic phrases:-“I’m sorry”

- “You complete me/You are my rock”

- “Let’s never fight”

- “I don’t care.  What do you want to do?”

Opposites Attract:

Differences in personalities, likes, and dislikes all provide fuel for your love fire.  Part of a good relationship is the ability to grow together, not apart.  When people have competing ideas and meet challenges together, compromise is born.

Signs of a Good Relationship Signs of a Bad Relationship
-Your partner has inspired you to try new things-You and your partner work through problems together

-You are open to your partner’s ideas

-You hate morning breath and long toe nails-You love drugs, your partner is sober umpteen years

-You’re a cat person, your partner eats cats

Shared Responsibility:

Understanding that a relationship is a reciprocal cycle of give and take will help you navigate your way into a happy future.  If you’re unable to get your share of the work done because you’re bending over backwards to pick up his/her slack, you’re going to have issues.

Signs of a Good Relationship Signs of a Bad Relationship
-Your relationship feels like a team-When you come home from work and your partner has been home all day, the house is clean and vice versa

-You ask if you can help the other person and vice versa

-You think work is for suckers-You’re exhausted from getting too much sleep

-You don’t mind a dirty house

-You’re chiropractor says bending over backwards all of the time is taking a toll on your lumbar (also, You do all of the work)

Same Page:

Sometimes opposites attract, but you’d better like at least some of the same things as your best gal/beau otherwise your relation-ship is sunk.  You might sit on opposite sides of the political aisle, but if his/her dream is to be a senator, then you’d better be heading up the campaign.

Signs of a Good Relationship Signs of a Bad Relationship
-You are interested with your partner’s life outside of your relationship-You ask questions

-You actively listen

-You like VH1 and s/he hates TV-You like to get faded at da’ club and s/he likes reading the poetry at the café

-You like butt sex and s/he has hemorrhoids (rectum, damn near killed ‘em).

Future Plans:

S/he sees kids your future, but you see a boat?  Yeah, maybe it’s time to talk.  If your partner isn’t visible in your five-year-plan, maybe it’s time to rethink who your future includes.

Signs of a Good Relationship Signs of a Bad Relationship
-You’ve talked with your partner about the future-You have similar goals for the future (own a house in a year, own a dog in two years, add a 2nd dog in two and a half years)

-You can see yourself growing old with your partner

-You squander away your money and your partner’s money-Your partner is nonexistent in your future plans

-Marriage is not for you

-You’re in prison

Communication:

Some people fight to win and others fight to

share information.  The ability to effectively exchange ideas with each other while maintaining respect is paramount to a relationship.

Signs of a Good Relationship Signs of a Bad Relationship
-You feel like you’re with your best friend-You talk

-You listen

-You eat dinner in front of the TV-You’d rather your partner keep it down then you listen up

-When you talk, you can’t get a word in edge wise

There’s someone Else:

You talk until all hours of the night.  You think about him/her all of the time.  His/her d*ck is so young and thick.  You long to be together day and night.  If these are sentiments you hold for someone other than your partner, it’s time to break it off.

Signs of a Good Relationship Signs of a Bad Relationship
-There is no one else but your partner-You are seriously considering marriage

-Soul mate is an understatement

-There’s someone else-You stare at anything in tight jeans that walks by

-You love him/her, but you’re not in love

Sexy Time:

Sex is not the most important thing in a relationship but it is significant.  If you’re coming back for more after all this time, chances are things are looking bright.

Signs of a Good Relationship Signs of a Bad Relationship
-You and your partner have sex at least once every week or so-You love to give and receive

-You and your partner talk about and sometimes act out fantasies and turn-ons

-You don’t know what your partner looks like naked-Your pubic area is overgrown and overwhelmingly odoriferous

-Masturbation is better for you

-Your safe word is “rape”

Recognizing and implementing some of these good signs in your relationship is sure to give you the boost you’ll need to make it with that special someone.   If something’s wrong, however, chances are it’s you.  Get yourself in shape and try again.  There’s no sense in ruining somebody else’s life (and credit) because you’re a selfish jerk.  That’s not what a good relationship is about.

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They discovered this was a woman from the 80s trying to break through a glass ceiling.  What will scientists discover about you?

They found this woman from the 1980's trying to break through a glass ceiling. What will scientists discover about you?

What are people in the future going to say about us?  Yeah, what?  Those b*tches.  They don’t know sh*t.  Don’t judge me.  Take a paleontologist.  Here, take him.  What does he do?  He digs through trash, that’s what!  I saw this show on the Historectomy or Discoverme channel and these dudes were just digging through dirt.  One stupid idiot professor picks up an old piece of wood and a nasty pot and tells me that “this is an early receipt on reeds and a latrine from 10,000 years ago.  Analyzing the muck that has petrified inside of it is a great way to discover our ancestor’s habits.”  Did you read that?  Future people are going to check your receipts.  Then they’re going to dig through your crap to find dirt on you.  After all of that they’re gonna put it on TV.  That’s some effed up nasty sh*t.  They’re going to check my bank records and see all the toys I bought and then they’re gonna check my Internet Explorer history and think I’m sick.  I saw the show.  I know what happens.  They’re going to rummage through my poopy doo doos.  Yeah, I eat chalk and candy wrappers.  I want it all to be Chinese rice candy.  So what?  They’re going to wonder about the dog excrement.  They’ll find out I don’t have a dog.  Yeah, I’ve eaten a condom or two in my day. I’m scared.  They’re going to find out about me and tell everyone.  Whatever they tell you in the future…it’s not true.  I’m lonely.

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The reason for the lake is so you can drown yourself after you lose all of your money

The reason for the lake is to have a place you can drown yourself after you lose all of your money

I went to Lake Tahoe a few months ago for my buddy, Goldie’s, bachelor party.  In addition to the sick ski resort and water sport activities that can be had at Tahoe, there is also legalized gaming.  I’m not talking Monopoly or Galloping Pigs.  I’m talking about the provocative, self degrading gambling games like keno and craps.  These are the kind of games that you either win some or lose big.  Of course, when I lose, which is always, I get pissed.  “What a waste of money?!” I’ll say.  Every time one of my friends tell me that they’re up for the trip or that they’re breaking even, I tense up.  I’m pretty sure that winning or at least keeping money in a casino is impossible.  Apparently, they’ve all read Mensa’s Guide To Gambling and had great success; something I’m still getting around to.  Anyway, I ended up with my last $100 to piss away in one of six classy casinos and I sat down at a Black Jack table next to my other friend, Teddy. With a $10 minimum on the table, I knew that this would either make or break me.  The dealer was a middle-aged woman and my perception of her was that she seemed friendly enough, that is, until she started taking my money.  Now, usually, I can hang at the Black Jack table (it starts off well, I build a bank roll, then the money fades away, and I leave knowing I played a good long game).  Not this time.  The game gods were not on my side that night.  I feel that if you approach a situation with a good attitude and good things to say, you will enjoy the process and even come out happy at the end.  This was not the case.  Like I said, I was pissed; down to my last hundo.  Within a matter of minutes of sitting down, I played through 9 hands without a single push or win.  $90 just like that.  After some casual banter with the dealer about how poorly the game was going for me, I looked her in the face and with the most sincere disposition told her, “It’s not that I wish you were dead, it’s just that I wish your parents would have died before you were born.”  You take $90, I steal your soul.  The most Jewish act of my life.  She asked me to leave the table.  I wandered around some and played my last ten spot all the while contemplating what had come over me.  Who knows?  Frustration, maybe.  Whatever it was I’m pretty sure I dished out the world’s greatest insult.

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I learned how to read just like you.  Except not like you at all.  You prick; you think you’re better than me?  When I see the word “big”, I think of bestial anatomy.  When I hear the word “skipper”, I cringe.  Reading is a chore.  A sexy chore of disgusting images and male on male intercourse.

My story starts when I was a young lad.  My parents abandoned me and left me to die in a pie shop.  They knew I hated pie.  I made an immaculate escape.  It was daring and spectacular and that’s all I’m going to say about that here.  This story is about what happened next.  I was rummaging through a dumpster one night after my escape looking for a cat to eat.  All of a sudden I was rescued by a maiden.  She was tall and her Adam’s apple was poking through her skirt.  Her vibrant voice startled the cat and I got mad.  She asked me what I was doing.  When I told her that I was a lone ranger with no one to love, she grabbed my neck nape and kissed my lips.  The cat came back and we ate.

I knew that I could trust her because she was tall.  She took me to her house.  It was the whoryist house in the whole neighborhood.  There were all sorts of skank-ass hos and their Johns.  There were pizza boxes and pimps; recycled newspapers bins and crab shells; dogs and sweat pants.  The lady who found me told me she would raise me as her own and teach me how to read.  She then kissed me again and punched me in the gut with her fist.  The next day she taught me reading.

She said the only way to learn is to envision the words.  She taught me to think of an image each time I saw a letter so I could remember the sound.  She said that I could break down the words into letters and remember whole words by imagining the words that each letter represented to me.  Normally, this strategy might have worked, but I was in a whore house.  The only words for letters I could think of were the perverse images I witnessed.  Take the word “duck”: D is for the DEA, U is for uterus (I actually had one like as a pet rock), C is for big, gigantic, black c*ck (modifiers were another one of her lessons) and, K was for kiddie porn (I was also a movie star).  When I put it all together it looks like Ving Rhames dressed as a cop ripping the uterus out of an old hag watching me on VHS.  Far from an actual duck.

I am grateful I learned to read.  I despise that it was at the expense of my innocence.  Now where did I put that calico kitten?  I’m about to have me some dinner.  Let me know if you want me to spell out some other words for you.

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Sure hope that bus gets here soon

Sure hope that bus gets here soon

 

 

I drive a car.  A fast car that flies.  When I’m pulled over by skycops and slow down enough to catch some of the street level action, I’m always forced to see the folks at the bus stop.  With the exception of a few retards, I’ve noticed everyone always looks miserable.  Here is a list of 10 reasons that I think fuel your bus stop depression:

 

10. It is certain that before the day is done,  you will sit in at least one piece of gum

9. No bench

8. No matter what, you are going to be late

7. People assume you’ve been hired to help the retard in the wheel chair next to you because he’s shouting profanities and smiling uncontrollably in your direction

6. Sitting at a bus stop is as frustrating as waiting for a bus.

5. An old man who has been hurling smut/needles/prophylactics at you, is taking off his shirt to show you his old wrinkly Navy tattoos

4. With all of the recent bad weather, your umbrella budget has depleted the money you’ve saved from riding the bus

3. Your clothes are soaked with foreign fluids and it stopped raining hours ago

2. You’d rather wait for the bus in your own car

1. You’re about to ride a bus

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I used to work for a property management company.  I leased apartments to suckers.  It was a sales job and I effen hated it.  I used to run home in tears from the monotony of pushing some serious units.  Now usually, I’m not a quitter (Read: I am a quitter with a huge, meaty vagina), but in this case, I wanted out.  However, I was afraid to quit, and I didn’t know how to tell the management I needed something else.  Fortunately for me and my lady parts (see about engorged vag above), the company decided to sell the property.  I felt it was the best time to get out without giving a two week notice or telling anyone that I was unhappy, thus saving myself the trouble of embarrassment.  It was through this experience that I learned something about sales that I would like to share with you today.  Through leasing these sh*tty apartments, I learned that for the most part, two things are true: 1.) Sales are apart of every job, and 2.) Unless you sell something that you really love, you are going to loathe it.  To combat this you need to love yourself and sell a product that everyone wants: you. 

Take a moment and consider every job you can think of.  Time!  What d’ya come up with?  At some point in all of those positions, you are going to be selling either a product, an idea, or yourself.  Businessmen sell ideas and products to investors and clients.  Teachers sell drugs to kids.  Hookers sell their bodies to businessmen for drugs.  And even if a job doesn’t directly entail some salesmanship, when you apply for that job, you are still selling your skill set to the employer.  You are a product of a material world.  Luckily it pays cash.  Cold, hard cash.  You have to be a provider, right?  If you don’t provide for yourself, you’re going to die sooner rather than later.  Remember all of those trinkets/candy bars/books/carpet samples you sold as a kid?  The system was priming you for the dog eat dog arena known as life.  Now rather than fight this reality (something I tried and it made me really angry; remember my tears?), you’ll need to embrace it.

Once you accept that you have to participate in a competitive world (which is something you have little choice over), then your survival depends on selling something you love.  For some folks, it’s the love selling sh*tty apartments.  For some, it’s selling their bodies.  For everyone, it’s selling yourself.  This is a task that takes a great amount of energy and self love.  (I have to point out it’s not the kind of self love that 5 minutes alone at the computer in an empty house with a bottle of Jergen’s and box of Kleenex can provide.)  You have to really like yourself.  If you don’t love what you’re selling, you’re going to hate the job.  If you hate what you’re selling and you are the product, you are going to hate yourself.  When you hate yourself or your image or your skill set, your buyers are going to recognize that and reject you.  If you are rejected by someone else, you’ll feel even worse about yourself.   The truth is, no matter how much you love yourself, you’re going to be rejected…a lot.  With the aide of self love, however, coming back from rejection is easier to do.

The cruel reality of this is that the world you live in is unjust and unfair.  Somewhere down the road, the key to your chance at personal success is held by another person.  Did you read that?  Your success is controlled by someone else!  That sucks big, old, hairy gorilla balls!  To be happy you can do and act and say whatever you want but you cannot control what other people think of you or how they react to you.  You do have the ability to control your attitude, however.  Your ability to sell yourself as a confident and hungry person is paramount to your personal success and happiness.  If other people aren’t buying it, they can eat a bag of d*cks.  There are many opportunities out there because people are always buying and it’s not hard to find them.  Buyers will buy you because they like you for who you are so long as you like you for who you are.

Sales is a brutal business and is impossible to escape.  If you’re not selling the filth you are absolutely passionate about, you are SOL my friend.  Your happiness and self satisfaction depends on it.  Your ability to sell yourself is one based out of the love that you have for yourself.  You’re ego is going to be beaten and bruised along the way, but remembering what is really important to you will keep you on your horse.  If you can’t manage to do that, you might as well pull the trigger now and save yourself the trouble.

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