The Church of Lost Souls

From Hawkeye to Hot Lips

Greetings from the 4077th

Here's blood in your eye

If atheists were as kooky as the devout

The unpopular truth

Some good reads about the shameful outpouring of love and respect for less than respectable people:

"Excess Rites All Wrong For Sicko Freak!"

"Shed No Tears For This Twisted Sicko"

"Don't be so quick to make McNair a hero"

Diagnosing Creepy

The question has been posed: why does Steven/Creepy act "enraged?" 

Any thoughts?

What am I doing here?

Walked outside just now, after recovering from a near heat stroke this afternoon, only to be overwhelmed by heat and humidity.  Not an ounce of breeze, just hot and sticky.  Here's what weather.com has to say about 10 p.m. or so:

 

Have you ever been in a steam room?  If so, is there anything remotely pleasant about it?  Shit, if they want to torture people screw water-boarding, shove them in steam rooms.

Anyway...  I have no job, no prospects, no love interest, my friends treat me as if I were a leper, and I hate this fucking place.  The only thing that's kept me here this long is my folks, but even that is losing it's allure.

Cousin Bruce came up with a brilliant suggestion today (what have you been waiting so long for, you prick -- just kidding, you're one of the few people NOT on my shit list): take a job working for a tropical resort in the Caribbean.  Why not?  My lease is up at the end of the month and if I don't find a job by then the plan is to shove my shit into storage and move in with my folks (*shudder*), rather than continue to burn through my savings.

I can see taking a gig spending the day on the beach someplace, say the Cayman Islands, for example, renting wave runners to tourists.  Waiting for the job market to improve in South Florida.  Wearing a big-ass hat and sunglasses, enjoying the island lifestyle, fooling around with drunken vacationers, consuming tropical beverages in the sea breeze, not having a care in the world.

I may only make enough money to cover my expenses but the experience of clearing my head for a few months can't be a bad thing.  And Mary the doxie might like a change of scenery; who knows, maybe she's a beach doggy at heart.  I can get her a doxie lifeguard vest.

I've just got to find a temporary home for my cat, Josie, and snake, Alistair.  Don't bother volunteering for the cat, Larry.  Sick fuck.  Or offer to feed my snake to one of your cobras. 

How dare they!

 

(Crap, can't remember where I lifted this from.  Sorry for the lack of credit.)

Tax your sin, not mine

Times must be tough for smokers.  Last week $1-a-pack cigarette tax kicked in here in Florida, at a time when an extra buck is the last thing folks need to be parting with.  (Unless you're using it to vote for Mary!)  What must a pack of smokes go for here these days, $6 or $7?  Ouch. 

I think their intentions were somewhat noble in singling out a small group of people to tax: raise more revenue for the state while reducing the smoking rates, thereby improving people's health.  However I don't believe it's fair to pick on one bad habit.  Nor do I believe it's going to have any significant impact on the number of smokers.

Sure, smoking is obviously not the healthiest or smartest thing one can do.  But neither is being obese.  And according to the latest figures, the obesity rate in Florida is 23.6%.  One out of four people are walking, talking pictures of less than health.  If you're gonna stick it to "sinners" with a "sin tax" why just pick on smokers?  Last I checked smoking was not one of the seven deadly sins; gluttony was.  Why not tax candy bars, potato chips and pints of Ben & Jerry's?  Add a buck in tax to each item on McDonald's, Burger King and Wendy's value menus.  After all, part of their motivation is to improve the health of residents; wouldn't discouraging people from eating such fatty, calorically-absurd food benefit everyone's health?

Not to mention they're punishing people who are ADDICTED to a substance widely considered more addictive than heroin.  Are they really the fairest target?  Which is easier, quitting smoking or quitting Twinkies, Ho Hos or Ding Dongs?  I've done both in the past few years, and losing nearly 60 pounds was a walk in the park compared to giving up smokes.  I did not need additional support from a product such as the patch to offset any unpleasant side effects from giving up chili cheese fries.

And the increased price isn't going to force people to quit smoking.  People don't successfully quit until they're ready to do so.  (And even then it's probably a losing battle.)  No, to make ends meet they'll switch to generic brands, or even roll their own, and cut corners someplace else, like buying cheaper beer or eating out one less night a month.  Which is going to reduce the amount of money they put into the economy, and offset the amount of tax revenue the state receives.

If they really want to increase revenue and make the state a better place they should add a tax for cell phone minute and text messaging usage.  We'd all be much better off if people were diddling with their phones less and actually paying attention to what they're doing.  Fewer car accidents, less time spent everywhere behind jackasses slowing the pace of society to a crawl, being spared from the torture of having to listen to some inconsiderate prick's insipid conversation.  Now that, my fellow Americans, is plan I can get behind.

So sayeth the shepherd, so sayeth the flock.

More wisdom from Larry David

I fuckin' love this guy.  Kinda reminds me of someone I know.  (Scroll down to paragraph four.)  (Wow, I could have written paragraph one today.  Loneliness has played a rather extensive role in my life.  The more things change...)

Quote of the day

"The way in which a man accepts his fate and all the suffering it entails, the way in which he takes up his cross, gives him ample opportunity -- even under the most difficult circumstances -- to add a deeper meaning to his life.  It may remain brave, dignified and unselfish.  Or in the bitter fight for self-preservation he may forget his human dignity and become no more than an animal.  Here lies the chance for a man either to make use of or to forgo the opportunities of attaining the moral values that a difficult situation may afford him.  And this decides whether he is worthy of his sufferings or not."

-- Viktor E. Frankl, "Man's Search for Meaning"

Do as we say, not as we do

Matthew 19:23 - 24

"Verily I say unto you, That a rich man shall hardly enter into the kingdom of heaven. And again I say unto you, It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God."

"Pastor with $457,000 salary is resigning"

"Religious broadcaster builds $4M home despite layoffs at his ministry"

Calendar girl

I give and I give but never ask for anything in return.  Well, it's time to pay the piper.  I've entered Mary the doxie in our rescue group's calendar contest, and my Mary IS gonna be in that calendar, regardless of what it takes to get her in it.  I'd prefer to do this the easy way, and not have to resort to any shenanigans -- which as you well know I am not above.  But this is really a fantastic organization comprised of the most selfless, compassionate people I've ever met, who make incredible sacrifices for the best interests and lives of doxies that would otherwise be put to death.

So I ask/beg/implore you use the following link and cast a vote (or 10) for my Mary.  It's only a dollar a vote, so you can't use the economy as an excuse.  Please throw this down on his luck, broken down old warhorse a bone, and help make my doggy, the only thing that has gone right for me during the most awful year of my life, a calendar girl.  My four-legged little miss sunshine.  If you've gotten anything at all out of this free fuckin' blog please repay me by making a vote/donation.

http://www.dachshundrescuesouthflorida.com/CalendarContest.html

(So much for my anonymity.  Fuck it, a good cause is a good cause.  And my Mary WILL be in that damn calendar.)

If it ain't broke, don't fix it

Evidently the plastic two-liter bottle used by Coca-Cola for all of its brands was broken (who knew), and in need of a fixing.  Thus, they give us the new and improved(?) contour bottle: 

 

Oooh, shapely, just the way I like my carbonated beverage bottles.  Not to mention it's "easier to hold and easier to pour." 

Unfortunately, while it may be "easier to hold and easier to pour," it makes the tasty soda inside more difficult to drink, because it will be warm when you drink it.  See, the new contour bottle (I love saying that) is taller than the previous version, by about an inch or so:

And this inch or so is the difference between a two-liter soda bottle fitting in my refrigerator standing upright, or not fitting.  So because some fuckin' people who haven't evolved as much as the rest of us can't hold or pour soda from the old fashioned bottle I've got to lay mine down on their side?  I can't have this, it will throw the peaceful order inside my fridge into utter chaos.  If bottles were meant to lay on their sides the top would be in a different location.  Shit, it's no longer the top if it's not on top!

On the bright side, while walking towards my grocery store today I followed a 20-ish fella pushing a shopping cart INTO the store, doing his part to eliminate the problem of carts disfiguring vehicles in the parking lot.  And as I was leaving I observed the nice old lady parked next to me grab a cart left sitting by our cars and bring it with her into the store as well!  Could it be that common sense is prevailing and people are actually attempting to do something that might make the world a better place?  More shockingly, could it be that people are actually picking up on one of my bright ideas?  (I believe that is unquestionably a sign of the Apocalypse.)

Did she say "Don't, stop" or "Don't stop?"

Maybe being lousy in bed isn't so bad after all: at least I don't have to worry about making a woman scream.

(Thanks Larry!)

Thanks but no thanks

Dear Steven,

Thanks for expressing interest in the ********************* position with *********************.  At this time we have decided to pursue other applicants whose qualifications more closely match with what the position requires.

We appreciate your interest in pursuing a career with *********************, and we wish you every success in your job search.

Sincerely,

The company who won't be hiring you

The wisdom of Larry David

Jesus vs. lobster:

Quote of the day

"Hi, call me when you're off the toilet."

-- Mom, in a voice mail message left for me Monday during my colonoscopy "preparation."

Take two thrusts and call me in the morning

During my session with the shrink this morning he remarked, "You need to relax."  I was even more agitated thanks to some sort of traffic snafu causing me to arrive 15 minutes late for my appointment and the useless valet parkers at his office building who've never heard of the concept "hustle".  (Shouldn't it be a requirement for the position of valet parker to hustle?  Isn't that one job in which it's mandatory for employees to get out of first gear?)

Anyway, my appointment was cut short, and at the conclusion I asked "Dr. Feelgood" what I should do since I'm obviously wound much too tight.  His professional opinion: "Get laid."  (They teach psychiatrists that in med school?)

I guess it's unanimous.  Any volunteers?

Simplicity

I just want to love someone, and be loved in return.  Why is that so difficult?

Creepy gone wild

*Warning: this is a drunken post*  (Do with that knowledge as you will, I've just come to the conclusion I should post a disclaimer.)

Ahhh, The Stones, "Brown Sugar".  Fantastic song.  Did you know the original title of this song was "Black Pussy", which put the record company's panties in a wad, forcing them to force The Stones to change the lyrics and title lest they offend anyone?  And that was pre-political correctness.  For once uptightness made sense, as "Brown Sugar" is much more poetic than "Black Pussy".

Let's see, the Creep hasn't been laid in 2009.  Actually it goes a few months back into 2008, making it about nine months since I've laid pipe.  (I hope the mongoloifriend isn't taking for granted the best shit he's ever gotten, and ever will.  Talk about overachieving... fucking hunchback.  By the way, if he talks shit about me again on his Facebook page "super douche" will...  You won, you've got the girl.  Be gracious in victory, not a disfigured, unsportsmanlike prick.  Don't try me.  Seriously.  And treat her well.  Very well.)   I profess to be a sexual camel but think the lack of nookie is getting to me.  I'm naturally wound too tight but shit has been coming to a head this week, leading me to believe I need unload a few clips at the range.

Tuesday morning Mom drove me to the hospital for my anal probing.  It was raining cats and dogs, and the outpatient department has a valet service.  There's an overhang under which you ideally can pull your car underneath to be valeted, without being soaked by rain.  However there were five cars parked along the curb underneath the overhang, so we had to put the car in 'park' out in the open, with no shelter from the rain, forcing my mother, a 70-something woman, to get out of the car in the pouring rain and get soaked.  So not cool in my book.

A valet dude came up to us and naturally I asked him why there were so many cars just sitting there underneath the overhang, forcing Mom to be drenched conducting the parking transaction.  They were very busy, he pathetically explained to me.  My response: your fucking job is valeting cars, not just taking keys and tips from people while sitting on your ass, forcing nice old ladies to get soaking wet because you can't be bothered to hustle and do your job when you're "in the weeds."

But I had a fantastic voyage awaiting me, and didn't have time to set this punk straight.  So I spared him a schooling.

After checking in at the endoscopy department Mom and I sat down in the lobby.  Needless to say I was already on my last nerve -- I don't do medical procedures well, especially anything involving anesthesia and devices up my ass.  While I waited to be taken back for drugging and anal probing we were disturbed by a 20-something's cell phone, which for some reason or another kept loudly blaring rap songs.  The first two times I gave him the stern eye, indicating I was not pleased with the distraction.  It's a fucking waiting room; if you feel the need to rock (or rap) out put in ear pieces, or leave the room.  Don't assume everyone around you shares the same taste in music as you, and happens to be in the mood to listen to it at eight'o'clock in the fucking morning.  I was on the edge of my seat waiting for it to blare a third time.  He would have been thankful he was in this department as they would have had to remove that phone from his ass.  Thankfully for him I was removed from the waiting room before his phone had to be removed from his rectum.

Today I met friends Shrek and Bruce for lunch at Hooters (a story for another day).  On the way back I was sitting at a traffic light behind a car containing four people with all of its windows down.  While the light was red the driver flicked a cigarette butt out the window.  I sat and stared at the smoldering butt so selfishly and inconsiderately discarded, the environment be damned.  My blood began to boil.  I decided I was going to put my car in 'park', get out, pick up the offending object and toss it back through the open window of their car.  The world is your ashtray?  That includes your car you inconsiderate, above-it-all cunt.  Unfortunately the light turned green and my opportunity was lost.

Sure, I'm a relentless prick, but do I need to get laid or what?  I'm wound much tighter than normal.  This masochist is lifting up his dress...