No one in their right mind besides a dirt encrusted hippy would hang something like this in their house. No reasonable human being whose brain was not severely addled by the effects of a lifetime of pot consumption could look at something this fucking gay and think it passed as a home furnishing. If it was a choice of either hippy drapes or spreading rancid fecal matter on the glass as a choice of window dressings I would go with the poo EVERY TIME. Although I never saw any proof of it, I also suspect these people probably own log furniture. Log furniture is for people who think that…wait…hold up…I am going to be totally honest here, I can’t even begin to achieve the lowest level of consciousness that would be required for me to come close to fathoming what people who buy fucking log furniture would be thinking. It’s like asking me to imagine what causes monkeys to eat their own crap. I have no point of reference. The thing is, yes, here in Colorado there IS a market for shit made out of unfinished logs. Seriously. I am not fucking with you.

I know I have said this before, but it needs to be said again- there was a reason we had an industrial revolution. The whole point of us having opposable thumbs and internal combustion engines was to make our lives better, to get the hell away from making shit out of logs. Abe Lincoln may have lived in a log cabin, but everyone in the US lived in a relative state of abject filth, so that is not a justification.

It does not stop there though, they did not apparently ever mow the yard on the side of the house. I am sure there was some freaking cannabis laced rationale behind this one, maybe during a Sponge Bob watching pot frenzy they decided that if you can’t see the grass on the side of the house, then in your crap infested, lint festooned, grimy hippy universe, it doesn’t exist. So I got to mow THIS today-

They also left behind various items of dog screwing hippy propaganda such as a Grateful Dead sticker in the window of the bedroom, a ultraviolet light in the basement and a Feng Shui pamphlet with OUR NAMES on it. Feng Shui is just cheap ass Chinese hippy propaganda. Apparently China has been remiss in their duties of heavily clubbing their stupid hippies and some of their ideas have gotten over here into the hands of our children of Jerry Garcia. Hey, CHINA! Step it the fuck up! We don’t need this shit over here, we just trounced Tai Bo and we’ve got that fucking Atkins diet to deal with now, we don't need even pussier Chinese versions of hippies infecting us!

There is also no peep hole on the main door, this upsets me because as I have recently discussed with czerka I have a fear of Ninjas.

That's why I personally reversed the little peep hole in the door to my last house, so I could look inside when I got home in case there was a ninja attack on the other side. Have you ever noticed that in movies when an action hero is attacked at home by Ninjas that they never show you what actually happens in movies BEFORE the ninja attack, they just show the victim walking through the door and then it's like "Suddenly Ninjas!"

I would assume that while they are waiting for you to get home they probably lounge around, maybe eat some of your food, look for naked pictures of your girlfriend. I mean, they're ninjas, not saints.

Anyway, that’s not the point. The point isn’t Ninjas. It’s not the former mulch screwing hippies either. The point is that this is all totally something I pulled out of my ass and now with little to no segue I am going to go off on something that is totally unrelated.

So I am sitting at this light the other day in Alexi and I hear this loud ass punk music blaring through the intersection so I look around to see where it is coming from, I mean, this is some seriously angry, antiestablishment punk rock, the kind that you don’t listen to unless you are seriously raging against some machine of an undetermined nature. The kind of music that brands you as a social outcast merely by it’s shockingly abrupt take on politics and the issues that shape our world, the kind of music that Tower Records or a Virgin Megastore would NEVER carry because it is SO SOCIALLY DANGEROUS that a major chain even attempting to harness it’s awesome punk rock power for the horrific means of capitalism would actually MOTHERFUCKING EXPLODE! Either that or they don’t carry it because punk fucking sucks ass and is devoid of musical merit. Either one.

In case you hadn’t guessed, I hate punk. Mostly because the people who listen to it think that the mere act of putting it on some 15 year old boombox and getting drunk while blaring out the astute lyrics of a song like “Maggie” by the Exploited is on par, civil disobedience-wise with storming the capital and overthrowing the government. For the record, most punks can’t handle the proper application of deodorant so the concept that these people bear any real social implact is ludicrous.

Anyway, I am looking for the source of the unspeakable audio defiance. I couldn’t find it at first because I was looking for your typical punk rocker car (see also ‘Typical Goth Car’) which would be some shitty ass 1982 Toyota with an ass ton of band stickers and crappy seat covers. I finally look over and see a plume of cigarette smoke emanating from this P.T. Cruiser.

I pull up because I have to see the rest of the story, and as I guessed it is some guy who looks like a middle manager at some brokerage firm. This is the source of said punk rock music.

Ok, look, P.T. Cruisers are NOT tough. Sorry. If you own one, even more sorry. Not because I bad mouthed your car, but because you bought a piece of crap car that was built on a Neon frame and is the Soccermom 2.0 vehicle for the next decade. NOTHING about these cars is badass, and no amount of punk rock, shitty flame decals, or custom rims is EVER going to change this, aight?

The real point of all this is that it got me thinking about how many people out there are pretending to be total badasses and are actually alarmingly unclear on the concept. With this in mind, I have composed a short list of some of these things that I keep seeing that are just mind blowingly suckass.

Anyway, the first thing I noticed was gangstas. Now, seriously, what gives with the fact that no matter WHAT these ass lancers are doing, they have to try to assume the most badass pose possible. I pass by this guy at the bus stop and he is has the big poofy jacket on, which ok, sorry for saying, but thank you for adhering to the lower primate tactic of making your chest and torso puffier to scare off potential threats. So he is standing there, striking a pose like some retard who was rejected from the dance company for a Madonna video for being too apelike and attempting to remain tough, or as they say on the streets 'keepin' it real'.

Look fool, here it is: You’re waiting for the bus. I don’t care how many repetitions you did with you’re Badassercise DVD this morning, YOU DON’T HAVE A CAR. This puts you at notch ZERO on the Badass-mother-fucko-meter. Things you cannot do on foot as a gangsta-

1. Drive by shooting. The best your silly ass can hope for is a jog by shooting. You sure as hell can’t shoot someone from the bus. First of all those little windows don’t roll down far enough to allow for proper gat clearance, assuming that someone so bitch ass poor they can’t afford a car actually even owns a gat, and you sure as hell can’t shoot THROUGH the window because they’ll kick your stupid ass off the bus for that and then you’ll be some fool who not only can’t drive, but can’t even take the bus.

2. Get ho’s. Look, ho’s may be bitches, but bitches don’t go for fools whose ride is a jank ass bus, and good luck trying get the Public Transportation officials to drop some gold Daytons with little spinning hubcaps onto their 189 year old busses.

Next on the list is the new generation of ‘Bikers’. Look, I am going to go off on this here, so if you are some honky ass peckerwood who says shit like “I love my hog more than my old lady” then you might not want to read this, because I am either going to mortally offend you, or I might be your hero.

First of all, when I think biker, like REAL biker, I think of the Hell’s Angels, or Marlon Brando. I think of surly, foul smelling men who live in bars and make people try to lock their doors as inconspicuously as possible when they pull up next to them at stop lights. Now there are several more types of bikers out there. You have the yuppie bikers, you know, those bitches who tow their bike on a trailer to Sturgis and both the gay ass Customer Service Manager Pansey and his Real Estate Broker bitch both have headsets so they can talk about sofa patterns while they ride. I am actually not even going to bother talking about those fools because in all honesty, it’s too easy.

Nooooo, the ones I am fucking tired of are the ones who you see wearing bandanas, shades, and some shitty ass “West Coast Choppers” hoody or jacket. The el numero uno thing that you can do to tell the real bikers that you are some bitch ass pussy is to be wearing three items of ‘biker’ apparel that all has that stupid ass “West Coast Choppers” cross on it. The Son’s of Silence you aint.

Another group of people that get me are people who brag about being homeless. In case you have never encountered these tards, they are usually gutter punks and they brag incessantly about how they ‘lived on the streets’ and how being homeless was so damned hard. Ok fuckers, I am going out on a limb here, but I am not imaging it can be THAT hard, I mean if it was that hard it wouldn’t be something that ANYONE COULD DO, especially THE HOMELESS. I could be homeless right fucking now, all I have to do is stop paying rent, walk outside and start shitting myself. That’s IT. No MIT degree, no years of hard work, just stop living in a house. Even quadriplegics who can only blink their eyelids to communicate can be homeless, all they have to do is blink a sufficient number of times to convey the message “Hey, wheel this bed down the hall and out the fucking door, I want to be homeless bitch! While your at it, smack the back of my head forward so I don’t swallow too much rainwater while I’m out there” and there you have it.

You knuckle dragging simians want to know what is more hardcore and difficult than being homeless? Having some shit job that sucks ass, demoralizes you and insults your intelligence on a daily basis, driving to work surrounded by inept motorists and paying for all the random crap that being an adult entails like a heat bill that gets higher every damned year because the government won't recall our heavy weaponry to the US and turn it on the power companies and demand a halfway reasonable rate on home gas and electric. THAT takes work, being homeless takes a pantload of chili cheese because you don’t feel like taking your jeans off to take a bowel movement anymore.

Speaking of pantloads, here are some honorable mentions on other people who are failing at being tough-

The French. Nothing French has EVER been tough...ever. Why? Well, because you have a country where the entire language sounds like you are trying to sweet talk a goat into licking your vagina for one. You know why no one fucks with the Germans? Because they have a kickass language where EVERYTHING they say sounds like a Nazi interrogation and even the word for ‘Cat’ is 360 syllables.

Oh yeah, and your women are hairy too. Don’t tell me about how different cultures shouldn’t be judged, your hairball women need to be shaved.

Finally, I present to you, the LEAST badass thing on the planet. The Anti-Badass...

HIM.

Ok, the awesome site of his shirtless studlyness notwithstanding, the lead singer is the gayest thing ever. He is so gay that as a heterosexual male, I could fuck him and not feel gay because his man-gina is probably more frilly than most girls I have been with. (Note, I am not homophobic, so don’t start with me on that. The fact is, no homosexual I know of would even touch that guy from HIM even with someone ELSE’S dick)

Also, when your band symbol is a combination of a pentagram and a freaking HEART, you have done something wrong, something horribly, terribly wrong. AC/DC? NIN? Those guys chose good logos. You think Trent would ever be seen in front of some girly ass Finnish heart-o-gram? Hell no!

At any rate, that about does it. I have to go get my Iron Cross t-shirt out of the dryer and catch the bus... *

*That was irony for all you jive turkeys that keep writing me to tell me there was a contradiction in my post. Yes, I noticed that. I wrote it you ass tards.


 

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