Random Thought Of The Day #698

Day 698

I don't really have anything all that prophetic or anything to talk about today...

I just wanted to say that I hope everyone enjoys their Labor Day Weekend. Have fun. Stay safe. Beat your partner, get beaten, or just beat your liver up with all that alcohol.

Stay safe. Don't drink & drive. And have yourself a blast. I know I'm going to. I might do a SMALL cookout on Monday. If you don't have family or friends that you're spending your Labor Day with, gimme a call or txt me or something and maybe you can join us if you ask really nice (and pitch in with some meat or beer or something).

But regardless of what you're doing... have some fun and stay safe. And watch for cops and drunks. Both of them are hoping to nail you.

Celebrate the American way. With fireworks, fried foods, alcohol, and cigars.

Random Thought Of The Day #697

Day 697

Once again, I believe it is the appropriate time to remind people, as we approach the election season, that my dog is available as a write-in candidate for the President of the United States.

While he lacks the manual dexterity to type effectively and no company has yet invented the dog-paw-sized keyboard, especially for a 95 lbs dog, I feel that he would like his platform to be made clear to all.

If elected, he promises to:

Not poop in the (white)house.  (I think we can say that there's at least a few that have left some steaming piles of shit in that place in the last 30 years or so)

Serve as a Watchdog for the nation. (He does NOT like people in his yard. And he likes wild turkeys in his yard even less) He is fierce.

And judge people by the content of their character. (Though that last one is normally based on if that person is willing to spend a half hour petting him or not. But that's a damn good judge of character)

So this coming november... ignore President Dumbo and the T-888 prototype with the laser eyes that are running for the Big-2 parties and vote for the Brown party... well... the Fawn colored party.

We elected our first black President in 2008... and now we can elect our first Tan president in 2012.

He has not yet picked his Vice Presidential nominee, but I suspect that it will be Regs... or potentially @Sybele 's Baby Princess with Regs as his Secretary of Defense nominee.

Vote Bailey 2012

 

The Deadpool Approved Candidate. Deadpool paid for and is responsible for the content of this ad.

RTOTD #696.2

Day 696.2

A German guy blew up his daughter's boyfriend because he didn't like the way the relationship was going.

Let me say that again:

HE BLEW HIM THE FUCK UP!

Leave it to the Germans to once again prove that they do everything more hardcore than any other group on the planet.

Their porn is more balls-out and violent. Their cars are better built. Their metal bands are pretty much a walking flamethrower show. Their genocide techniques are more deadly. And now even their ability to handle family squabbles for troubled teen aged relationships is more hardcore. They blow motherfuckers up.

American fathers that don't like the daughter's boyfriend do easy shit like "make sure you're cleaning the shotgun when he comes to pick her up"... I'm wondering if the German equivalent is "cleaning your bazooka when he comes to pick your daughter up"?

The explosion knocked this kid out the 4th story fucking window.

I don't know how anyone else can compete with this guy. Fucking Liam Neeson can't even compete with this guy. All he used was guns. This guy blew up a motherfucker.

I'm almost feeling the urge to go all mid-90's ECW wrestling and start changing "HE'S HARDCORE! HE'S HARDCORE! HE'S HARDCORE" over and over.

Badass.

RTOTD #696.1

Day 696.1

So if someone gets Athlete's Foot and then manages to spread it to his balls, does he get Athlete's Balls? And if so, do they peal or just get shiveled up from steroids?

Just wondering.

And since we're still celebrating Deadpool getting a video game... more Deadpool!!

Here's some 'Pool-Aid Man!

Here's DeadPony

 

 

Pimpin Ain't Easy for PlayPool

 



And here's The Many Faces Of The 'Pool

Random Thought Of The Day #696

Day 696

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Hey, look at that... that looks like some words on a page.

Hold on... wait a second... DEADPOOL FUCKING VIDEO GAME!!!

Mother Fucking RIGHT!

This makes me want a Best Of Deadpool Video Game References Day!

Here we fucking go!!

 

 

 

  

 

Random Thought Of The Day #695

Day 695

I'd like to start out by wishing XtraSpecialTom a happy birthday. I'm too lazy to go and find out how old he actually is, but hey... it's his birthday. So it's either the number on his profile or you can add one to whatever it says there.

Or just kinda make one up. He's like eleventy-Q years old. Or 19. Or F7. I don't know. He's an age where things happen and people do stuff. But he can rent a car and vote, so we know he's at least that old.

So go wish him a happy birthday. Or send a stripper-gram. I'm really not sure which would be more appreciated.

And on an entirely different note... I spent all day in the mill yesterday.

I was reminded that I have a 2nd place to dispose of the bodies if my primary body disposal option becomes unusable. Electric Arc Furnace (or an AOD furnace) would be quite effective. I don't believe much DNA evidence would survive the 3000 degrees of an AOD furnace. Although it means I'll have to probably blow a lot of Argon into the vessel to make sure I don't end up with too high of Carbon in my mix. That's a lot of carbon to blow out.

If it can take care of the T-1000, it can take care of a body.

Science... for the disposal of evidence.

Random Thought Of The Day #694

Day 694

I would like to congratulate the kinky people of the Internet for going an entire week without causing some gigantic tantrum throwing campaign or crusade against some perceived injustice. There were no major outbreaks of "whiny fucking cunt' anywhere that I noticed. This is an epic achievement for the perpetually bitching contingent of the world. Congratulations.

Maybe I should offer them a cookie?  Maybe that's not the best idea. We all remember what happened the last time I offered a cookie to anyone. Maybe a steak is a better idea. How about a steak?  Speaking of which... I still owe LAR a cookie.

Can we manage another week without acting like a 5 year old girl with a skinned knee over some issue that would be better solved by actually discussing it?

Can our heroes act like rational human beings for another full week?

Or will the dastardly Butthurt come back to throw a wrench into their plans of behaving like logical, thoughtful adults?

Find out next week. Same FetTime, Same FetChannel!

Random Thought Of The Day #693

Day 693

Found out yesterday that I accidentally cross-posted a blog post to my personal Facebook account when I did the twitter post. Eek.

Thankfully, someone pointed it out to me and I deleted it. Granted, it was like a week late, but at least I wasn't talking about anything kinky (I believe) and since I so rarely use Facebook, it didn't really get any hits or anything. So that's good.

That's why I created a separate account there last night. TheScience Jesus. I'm creative. Really. I am.

So show of hands... Who has accidentally posted something to Facebook that you probably shouldn't have?

RTOTD #692.1

Day 692.1

So... how many guys named "Peterson" have killed their wifes?

There was Scott. And Drew. Was there another one?

Someone keep an eye out for Adrian. He hasn't been doing that well on the football field the last few years. He might snap.

Wait... the other guys were white. So I think he's safe. Killing wives is a white guy thing. Same with serial killing. They're all white guys. Fucking crazy white people.

Random Thought Of The Day #692

Day 692

I figured I'd tease you all a little bit more by posting the introduction to my book. Here is the unedited version of the book intro section before I get to the actual funny and ridiculous shit.

My name is Joe and I pretend to be a writer. I’m also a raging drunk, an egotistical jackass, a manwhore, and a complete asshole with no internal filter. In short, I am the awesomest man alive.

Somewhere around mid-2005, I started writing. I don’t know why. I just woke up one morning, and started writing a little something and, back then, posted it to MySpace. You know, back when people still used it for social networking. Or to find slutty internet girls to nail and then find out too late that they’re going to be on the next episode of To Catch A Predator.

I simply called it a Random Thought Of The Day. Mostly because I couldn’t come up with a better title and it wasn’t really ABOUT anything. The next day, when I got into my office, I wrote something again. And again the next day and the day after that. Quickly, it became a thing for me to do in the morning. Part of my routine. I didn’t even realize that anyone was reading it.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when a few friends complained when I didn’t write one that day that I started to realize that maybe I wasn’t completely awful at this. Or maybe I was and people still liked reading it because of how horrible it was. Like the first few weeks of American Idol, when the only reason people watch is to laugh at the idiots that think they can sing but kind of sound like a cat being raped by a jackhammer. You know what I’m talking about.

After about 4 months I got bored and frustrated with how useless that site was and closed that account.

The writing itch however, never went away. I really enjoyed writing. And to be honest, I thought I was getting pretty good at it. Maybe a little verbose at times, but hey… most of my literary exposure in my formative years was comic books. And I don’t know if you ever read comic books in the late 80’s thru the late 90’s, but let me tell you… motherfucking writers would cram more useless exposition into each panel than anyone had any right to. It was like the literary version of ass-stuffer porn from the turn of the millennium where you had no idea how that much dick ended up in that asshole and how that shit didn’t tear… er…  well, I was going to say “in half”, but it’s an asshole and that wouldn’t make much sense at all. But you know what I mean.

Sorry. Got sidetracked there. Be warned, I kinda tend to do that. Back on topic.

But that bite from the writing bug… I couldn’t shake it, and within a year, I was writing again. But in the intervening year or so, I had moved most of my social networking over to [REDACTED]. Now, I don’t know if you know this, but you’ll find this out in the book here: I’m a kinky fuck, and while this book is NOT about sex or really anything, sex does play a big role here. Some of my best stories involve sex. Most involve me doing something incredibly stupid, and against all reason and cosmic or karmic justice, manage to survive. But sex is kind of a recurring theme in here. And Butt Sex.

I had become significantly more involved in the kink world. Those that I had befriended there would end up being my primary audience, the cheap fucks that they are, but I was giving it away for free. Like a slut.

See, I’m a whore. I want paid. Giving it away for free for a few years was my method of letting out my inner drug dealer mixed with a toddler learning to walk. I was giving people a taste to get them hooked while still finding my voice. Yeah, you all were used. It’s OK. You love it, don’t you slut?

What follows here is a number of stories of the things that I’ve done and situations that I’ve lived through interspersed with a lot of thoughts on the world, especially the kink world. I’ve changed some dates and locations, and given nicknames to friends to protect both my friends and myself from potential legal issues that might arise from telling these stories. I also did this because their employers that might not like stories of their employees antics tarnishing a corporate image. But all of the stories here are completely true, unfortunately; to the best of my, sometimes inebriated, recollection. I’m not proud of all of it, and in some cases, I’m shocked I’m still alive afterwards. But I loved living it. And I’ll continue to love living it.

It’s been a weird fucking ride. And I hope you enjoy reading this even 10% as much as I’ve loved living it.

So there you go... this is probably going to get at least partially re-written for the final version. I just figured that since some of you have already seen tastes of what a few of the stories look like because I posted them on the blog site before I even decided to do the book, that I would now give you a taste of some of the new material that was written entirely for the book. And let me tell you, there's a fucking LOT. The stories that I've posted here already are the short ones or only parts of much larger stories.

Just the "Girl Invites Joe & Friends To A Party. Things Break." story is 8000 words. The longest story I've posted here so far was around 2000 words. Some of the more epic stories are 6-10K words while some of the storter ones are around 2000 like you've already read.

Random Thought Of The Day #691

Day 691

I'm in a more "book writing' mode today than a "blog writing" mode.

So I'm simply going to leave it at this:

I have not been getting as many applications for Rope Bottom as I'd like. I need rope playmates. I have been having that itch recently and don't feel like seeking out people to help me scratch it.

Volunteer line forms to the left.

Please fill out the attached application


Also... on an entirely unrelated note:

I think I want to do the Kegs & Eggs party that Unwonted & I were going to do a while back and had to cancel. I think we should do it soon. Early-morning beer & breakfast party.

Is anyone else interested?

Random Thought Of The Day #690

Day 690

I got a message the other night from a new-ish (I think) reader that, after a number of messages conversing back and forth, seemed to highlight my issues with the community concept of the past few years.

The reader was asking me why I felt compelled to "whore myself", as I've recently gotten to calling my choice to open friend requests to people I don't know. I simply explained that it was hyperbole and that it was my way of describing a choice intended as a little bit of viral marketing for the forthcoming book.

I hate advertising and marketing, but no matter what the quality is of my writing, without anyone knowing about it, nobody is going to be buying it or reading it. It's the "tree falling in the woods" question. And I don't have the marketing or advertising arms of a publishing house behind me to any degree because I'm self-publishing. There's probably a shitload of good or great writers out there that have written something great or shitty or anywhere inbetween that nobody ever actually bought, simply because nobody knew it existed. And thus, a viral marketing by just opening up my friend requests to anyone anywhere was my way of doing it. It puts it in the friend feeds of more people, which allows a greater chance of comments, which then puts it in their activity and thus their friends' friend feed. Exposure. That's it. But as I said I kinda hate marketing & advertising, I feel dirty doing it. I feel like a whore. As much as it might be a necessary evil, it still makes me feel dirty and like a whore for doing it.

Well, this reader replied with something that, when I first read it, kinda grated on me. I couldn't quite figure out exactly what it was though. It took me a few moments to figure out why, but eventually I did.

The response was that people would buy it simply because we're all part of a community and should support one another.

Aside from the kumbaya hippie commie stuff in there, it took me a moment to figure out why this line of reasoning behind the statement bothered me as much as it did. After a little reflection and a moment or 2 of thinking about it, I finally figured it out.

I don't want people to buy it because we both happen to share the trait of owning a sexual appetite that deviates from the established idea of what is "normal" in the world-at-large. I don't want anyone to buy it just because we both like to spank people. I don't want people to buy it just because rope is as hot to me as Barry White and some rose petals are to 18-year-old virgin imagining her first time. I don't want people to buy it just because I drink with them or play with them or went to school with them or anything like that.

I want people to buy it because they'll enjoy it. I want people to buy it because they might be able to use it as a cautionary tale or a way to embolden themselves to live life a little bit outside of their comfort zone. I wan people to buy it because it makes them laugh or smile or elicits some sort of emotion from them. I want people to buy it because they want to read something different. I want people to buy it because it's good.

And I want people to not buy it if they think it sucks. Or if they think I don't know the first thing about writing. Or if they can't stand me as a human being. Well, actually, on that last one, they might definitely want to buy it because it'll give them a lot more ammunition to prove that I'm a horrible person.

I just want it to stand on its own merits or fail on its lackthereof. That's all I want. I don't want people to buy it just because it's written by someone that also shares a love of inked up girls with fake tits and more daddy issues than Batman. Granted, they'll get a little bit of their appetite whetted in there, but still. You know what I mean.

This brings me back to my Day 579 thought about "community" concept and what role it actually serves. It also brings me back to the fight that I've had for a long time with conformity or assimilation into group-think. Think for yourself. Question Authority. Stop being a fucking sheep. Be. Fucking. Punk. Rock. Do it yourself. Play in the darkness. Make shit up as you go along. Do your own thing. And fuck everyone else or what they think.

I don't know how many more cliches I need to throw at you people before the message hits home. Maybe I'm just preaching to the choir.

We've seen it time and time again. We've seen the cheerleaders touting all these mediocre "achievements" as something major. We've seen the bandwagons. We've seen the mob mentality. We've seen the torches and pitchforks being raised or the pom-poms brought out to cheer lead this thing or that thing. How about we all stop and think and forget that it's the Internet and behave like the critically thinking adults we SHOULD have been raised to be? And if someone did a shitty job on teaching that critical thinking when we were younger, well... no time like the present to figure it out for yourself.

In fact, I'll go as far as to say that nobody should be getting supported by the "community" just by virtue of them being a member of said "community". And any community that has an expectation of support just for being there is not one I would have ever wanted to be involved with. Give support to those that need it based on if they deserve it. And don't support things or people that don't deserve it. It's as simple as that in my opinion. But simply because you're a member of any community doesn't mean you should get support simply for existing. To steal an oddly and frequenctly useful yet still somewhar cheesy line from a movie; "if the juice is worth the squeeze".

Random Thought Of The Day #689

Day 689

I told a friend this a few weeks ago and let her steal it. She found it as correct & true as I do.

"there are 3 things a guy looks for in a girl. Sane. Single. Sexy....."

"Pick 2"

Of course this brought on the expected reply of a great deal of laughter, but it's very true.

Now, you might ask "what about the ones that are sane & sexy & married or with someone? They were single at some point, right?"

Yeah. And they're the exception. Whoever they're with now, they effectively hit the vagina lottery. Because most of the others that are taken are also lacking in one of the other 2 variables I mentioned.

Now, from time to time we all hit this lottery and fuck it up or something. Like a hillbilly winning the Powerball. We blow it on stupid shit and get robbed in the parking lot of a strip club with a hundred grand in a briefcase.

Far more often however, we THINK we hit it, that we're the lottery winner, only to find out that the degree of psychopathy buried under the facade of sanity is so overwhelming that you start to wonder "how in the world did I miss this shit"? We see the numbers on the screen and then look at our ticket and they match, but soon-after find out that not only was our ticket for yesterday's lottery, but yesterday's lottery is also the one that makes you the next participant on an episode of the version of Survivor where they throw a dozen people on an island with an axe-wielding maniac. You pretty much realize you're fucked and you'll be lucky to make it out of this situation with only a few cuts and scrapes, but more than likely you're gonna get your fucking head lopped off while running for your life.

That's pretty much the way I view dating at this point. Like it was the lottery. And the lottery is nothing more than a tax on the stupid. Yes, it's true that you can't win if you don't play, but you also can't waste all of your money & end up as a degenerate gambler with an addiction to the action if you don't either.

That's why I wrote my Application a while ago. Because I'm not playing the lottery anymore. You're only going to get 2 out of the 3 numbers right and while that might be good enough for many people, it's not good enough for me. I'm just going to hang around until I'm stumbling through the street one night in a alcohol-fueled haze, trip and fall into a gutter, only to lift my head and find a lottery ticket that turns out to be the winner that someone elses unfortunately purchased and lost.

It'll probably never happen. But fuck... it could. The other option is to waste more time and money than I can count buying losing lottery tickets.

Weirder shit has happened.

Random Thought Of The Day #688

Day 688

So people are making a big deal out of needing valid photo ID to vote. Cause apparently some people don't have ID.

So, I have a question for people without ID: How do you exist?

Do you not engage in any banking or financial transactions outside of cash? Oh... Drug dealer. You're like the people that still use pagers. You know, drug dealers.

Do you never drink or smoke? Cause unless you're like 50 now, someone is gonna card you to even get in the bar at some point.

Never had to buy allergy or cold pills? They make you jump through a million hoops to get rid of allergy symptoms in the name of not making it easy to make meth. But hey... at least Dog the Bounty Hunter won't be chasing you down for going all Breaking Bad.
Do you not have a job? I've never had a job that didn't want to see ID to get it. Do you just like... cut the neighbors' grass for $25 a pop?
Never left the country? Cause passports work.

Never gone to a doctor or hospital or anything? Other than the ER, they won't even talk to you without ID. Though that dude with the shady clinic that smells like whisky in the back-alley with a single dentist chair for everything doesn't count.

Never even rented a car? You need a license to do that.

Never even rented an apartment or house? Where the fuck do you live, unless you're constantly couch-surfing from place to place?

Fuck, I think even the Greyhound sometimes asks for ID now to get a ticket. Much less a plane or Amtrak.

There's not really much you can do in life without some form of ID at this point. You really need to be living on the total outskirts of society. Like, the alley-dwelling fringe of dumpster diving homelessness. I don't mean hipster freegan dumpster diving bullshit. Which, for the record, royally fucks all the ACTUAL homeless people that do NOT have the means to go and buy food, unlike the cheap fucks that just want free shit. And the shelters WILL help you get some form of ID in case you get busted by the cops for vagrancy or something.

Or you still live with mom & dad into your 30's or something and are a total drain on both them and society.

And the argument that I saw about not being able to get ID is about as flimsy as you can get. All you need is a birth certificate to get ID. That's it. Who doesn't have one of them?
Were you born in the back seat of a '77 Ford in the middle of bumfucknowhere, Iowa, lived your entire existance in a cave, and don't exist as far as the government is considered? Then guess what? You're not actually a citizen and don't have a legal right to vote! Though I do have to ask if you ever tried to find your cave in Google Earth. And how the fuck are you reading the internet right now? Is it like the Flintstones with Fred's rock television? Do birds fly into your intarwubz box and tell you the news and act-out YouTube videos? Somehow, I don't think that "Call Me Maybe" crazy chick is nearly as funny when acted out by birds like Fred's tv did.
Illegal immigrent? Oh, yeah... also not a citizen and no right to vote.
On a work or student visa? Yeah, I know... but you can go vote in your own country. You don't get to make up for not being there for yours by voting in ours.
Faked your own death? Same fucking deal. Though if you faked your own death, you probably totally got a false identity you're living under now. So vote with that false identity. False identities tend to come with photo ID. Otherwise it's just an alias. And you don't pay some shady terrorist-helping guy on the internet or in some dark bar like $10,000 for a stage name. Even strippers can come up with a stage name using their own cocaine-addled, cum-soaked brainbox. I think you can do it too.

Bigfoot? Well, I think we can give Bigfoot a pass. Since he's like... pretty distinct. But I'm pretty sure voting is kinda low on his priority list. Behind "eat", "mate", and "try to look super blurry in every photo taken of him". I wonder if he would show up as blurry in his photo ID picture? Like Mitch Hedberg said, "I think Bigfoot is blurry, that's the problem. It's not the photographer's fault. Bigfoot is blurry, and that's extra scary to me. There's a large, out-of-focus monster roaming the countryside. Run, he's fuzzy, get out of here."

But still...

Really, is there anyone alive that's an actual citizen that doesn't have a birth certificate? No. You all got one. And if you don't physically posess it, you just gotta call up the hospital you were born in or your ophanage (if you were adopted) or even just the state or county you were born in and have them mail you a copy. Not that hard. You should probably have a copy of it anyway. They don't give you the only copy. The government keeps copies of the title to your car, they definitely keep copies of the list of people that should be paying them taxes.

So sorry to inconvenience you, but if you're dumb enough to go through life with absolutely no proof of who you are, then you really probably shouldn't be voting anyway.

Though I'll give you a pass if you've had your whole life and identify stolen. But that's pretty much it.

Random Thought Of The Day #687

Day 687

My office got repainted overnight.

I hate the fucking color. And the god damned paint fumes are giving me a headache.

So you can all fuck right off today.

Here's some music/porn/bailey pictures/bullshit to amuse yourself.

RTOTD #686.1

Day 686.1

Also... Gotye fucking sucks. Seriously. That band is attrocious. There is nothing redeeming about their music. And I wish they would slit each others wrists. It's just some dude and some chick, right?

Or was it just some dude? I don't know.

Since I haven't wished that anyone dies in a fire recently... I hope these motherfuckers die in a fire. And then someone finds a way to destory all of their cds and then someone invents a virus that tracks down every digital copy in the world and then makes the computer or iPod or phone or whatever it's being stored on, catch fire. As well as the owner of that device. Because you have shitty shitty shitty taste in music and deserve to die for it.

Then they'll just be somebody that used to annoy me on the fucking radio.

Random Thought Of The Day #686

Day 686

Here's just a little couple things that I wanted to mention:

1.  I just saw a news article about a Boy Scout being attacked by a rabid beaver in a river in Pennsylvania.

Come on... that fucking joke writest itself. There's enough source material there to go with everything from "closest a boyscout will ever get to a beaver without joining the kink community to put his rope skills to use" to the "frothy beaver" joke to the obligatory "boyscouts and gay scout-masters" joke.

Maybe it's just me and not having any sort of journalism background. Hell, I've never even taken a journalism class. But I just want to know how in the hopping chocolate christ does that story get written by anyone and NOT be filled from top to bottom with jokes? I'd shred the shit out of that one with every joke imaginable.

Then again, I guess it would be probably terribly unprofessional to do that, but fuck... Look at the joke options there?

Maybe that's why the newspapers aren't selling. None of the articles are funny. If you could find a way to throw in a joke about "maybe someone wrote on his face with a sharpie while he was asleep" into the odd story about a stabbing or a joke about underpants gnomes into stories about the dimentia patient walking down the street naked, the newspapers would sell better. I'd be willing to read them if I could get even a little chuckle out of every story, no matter how serious or whatever it was. That's just me though. I guess some people don't have that much of a sense of humor.

Ok, so maybe there's a LOT of motherfuckers out there without a sense of humor.

I hope you all have a stroke from the hypertension that not laughing brings on. Or maybe some sort of intestinal disease from impacted bowel due to the stick in  your ass.

2.  On a sad note, I neglected to mention this yesterday. It slipped my mind.

The comicbook world lost a legend this past weekend in Joe Kubert. A guy that taught multiple generations to draw and whose sons, Adam and Andy, are some of the top sequential artists on the planet.

He built a school for comic book artists and taught a number of very talented guys how to draw comics right. And even at the end of his life, was still drawing and teaching every single day. And doing the PS Preventative Maintenance comic/guide for the US Military. He's a legend. And a guy that gave more back in teaching than 95% of the artists in ANY business. He could do AND he could teach. That is a rare combination.

He will be greatly missed.

And no, he didn't create Deadpool.

3.  The piece of Dove chocolate that I just ate... They're totally promoting unsafe play. It was a rejection of Safe, Sane and Consensual. It was possibly even beyond RACK. It might have been bording on BORK.

It said:

So that's a reference to either unsafe play, or they really want you to be a fat fuck.

4.  Cigars, Boots, and Chocolate is now stuck in my head. I want a motherfucking cigar. Does anyone have any recommendations for something? I've always been a "cigar from time to time" kinda guy. Especially parties when I'm grilling food while wearing a grass skirt and straw hat. Beacuse I'm safe like that.

I've just generally always ended up with Dominican cigars. I was always a fan of the flavor. But I've started expanding that recently towards domestics and Europeans. So I'm looking for recommendations outside of the Dominican or central American type without needing to walk into the humidor and pick up every cigar to get a whif of it before settling on one or two or thirteen.

5. And now I my Cigars, Boots and Chocolate thoughts have morphed into my first love when it comes to a cigar. Cigars, Beers, Football, and Blowjobs.

There's not really anything that is even remotely as relaxing or ideal of a situation than all 4 of those at the same time. The only major problem is finding the right chair for it. I have a recliner in my bedroom that is pretty much perfect for that. It's the right height, right depth, and rocks just slightly to help kinda get the face-fucking hip-thrust that's virtually inevitable with a good blowjob.

Though a hot girl smoking a cigar is also wildly hot. So yeah...

Random Thought Of The Day #685

Day 685

I know that many of you have already seen it. Some of you might not have.

The @ElitistFucks group is no longer the @ElitistFucks group. It has evolved. It's now known as the UnMunch.

The original idea ran its course. It outgrew what it was intended as. I think I've previously covered what it was intended as enough that I won't rehash it now.

The thing is, the group dynamic and purpose evolved. It had been changing for months. In the span of a year and a half, it changed from being 3 guys in a bar that needed a drink into between 20 and 30 people in a bar. It wasn't for the disenchanted anymore. Well, not in the same way. The number of disenchanted had grown. There were more that just said "oh fuck everyone, we just wanna have a few drinks and some good conversation about something fun and not about the outrage of the week". It went from being an escape into an alternative. A growing counter-community. Not so much in the opposition to the existing one, but just as a new one that was an alternative. Almost something running parallel.

The name kinda says it all. UnMunch. Because we do shit at a bar. It was based on drinking, not food. And calling it a Drunk would have been confusing. We experimented for a couple days early on with trying different terms for a gathering, but then got distracted and stopped caring about that question.

When it was small, it could be legitimately called Elitist. Because 3 or 5 people sitting around saying "we're better than them for X, Y, and Z reasons" and owning all of the criticisms thrown at us on a personal level by some people could make us Elitist. However, it wasn't just 3 or 4 or whatever people in a bar anymore.

I don't know if that makes a fuck bit of sense at all or if it's even an accurate representation of my thoughts on it. But it doesn't matter.

In the end, the name needed to change. It didn't fit anymore. There was less irreverance. There was less beligerance. It ceased being the big middle finger to the petty bullshit on the way out the door and became an alternative where people would come to take a breather without necessarily being the escape hatch to go entirely off the reservation.

And so, some of us got together last Friday and made the call. Nothing really changes. The few rules that there were don't change. Just be an adult. Just leave your bullshit and baggage at the door. Anyone wants to call for a munch, you call for it. You pick the place. If you ask me to do it, I'll pick the place and I guarantee it'll be within damn-near walking distance from my house so I don't have to go anywhere. Because I'm a lazy fuck like that.

I guess I just look forward to seeing what this thing evolves into now.

Random Thought Of The Day #684

Day 684

As I write this, it's writing number 901 for me. Stop and think about that. I hate to sound like a cocky asshole... No... Wait... No. I don't... But I know that I sound like a cocky asshole for saying this but that's a fucking lot of writing. Day after day, it's become almost like a column in a daily paper. It's something that people ready daily or check out moderately frequently. I actually wish I could see the analytics for the FL hit counter. I know what I get on the blog site (pretty decent traffic that's been growing every month) and I know that a lot of people don't follow the links to it. I'd be curious how much higher it is here.

It's kinda strange though that something that I started just for fun has kind of becomes what I'm known for. Well, among a handful of other things, both good and bad. But when I'm meeting people for the first time, or in a new place with new people, I almost always get "oh, aren't you that writer guy?" from people I don't know.

That's a strange feeling for me. To be known for something other than "Dude, that guy can fucking party" or "that dude can drink" or "he throws killer parties" or "oh fuck him, that guy's an asshole" or "that smug, egotistical, self-important jackass". I'm not used to people knowing who I am before I meet them. It was going on before writing for years and I didn't get used to it then. As far back as Highschool and college people somehow knew me before I knew them. Just not as often as now. I don't think I ever will get used to it. As much as I enjoy it, it's still kinda weird. I almost feel as though there are now expectations on me from other people that I have to meet before I say "hello". Like I have to meet a standard of awesomeness or dickbaggery or just being a raving lunatic that I've set for myself.

Do I meet it? I have no idea.

That's not a complaint. I'm certainly never going to complain about people knowing who I am without me needing to even walk up to them and introduce myself. I already wrote a whole thing a week or so back detailing how I compensate for being kinda painfully shy in one-on-one encounters with new people.

I'm not nearly that much of a douche to bitch about the little hint of notoriety that comes from being able to hammer out 1000 or 2000 words each morning on whatever bullshit topic springs to mind that day. I could be unknown and writing to no audience. I could be just ignored altogether. So I'm not gonna complain that people sometimes know me.

I like it. It's another way to kinda act as a coping mechanism for my shyness. It doesn't mean it's not weird or I'll be getting used to it though.

Trust me though... I'm well aware that the modicum of notoriety I've gotten from this is very minimal. It might be able to sell a nice number of books or at the very least, convince me that it might be a reasonable venture to actually publish something. But there won't be anyone selling any tickets to events or anything based on my attendance anytime in the foreseeable future. I'm definitely not putting any asses in seats. I'm not that good. I'm not that well-known. And I'm definitely not that much of a draw. Especially considering that skills & looks sell in this world when it comes to events. Words don't. At least not to audiences at events.

But that's cool. I don't wanna be that. I just like writing. I like putting words down and telling stories and being a self-absorbed ass. I like shamelessly self-promoting and letting my ego run rampant. I like seeing how many times I can make Kinky & Popular in a week or a month. I like being some sort of just weird kinda fixture. There's almost a guarantee that you'll see something I wrote end up being prophetic when something random happens a month or 2 from now.

Though I do have to say, when I am the voice of reason on a topic, you gotta all realize that you've all gone of the motherfucking deep end. Just sayin.

Then there's the other side to the whole thing. The shitstorms it's kicked up. The fights I've picked with ideas or people that I think are dangerous or insane. The chasms that it's torn into local politics in the scene. They were inevitable, even without me putting my fingers on the keyboard. It was shit that was going to erupt. So don't think I'm taking credit or blame for them happening. I just never have been shy about being the one that fires the first shot in a war against bad ideas or lunatics. And hell, putting myself in the middle of them has only served to make my ego bigger, to grow the infamy, to make my spotlight brighter and my stage bigger.

Now, do I like everything that's gone along with being a loud-mouthed asshole with no internal filter and a borderline case of sociopathy? No. Certainly not. It's caused headaches for myself and for friends. When you make yourself a public figure and relish it, you don't really get to bitch when shit goes bad or when people dig up dirt or attack you back. It happens. You deal with it. You ignore it. You roll with it.

Regardless, it's been a fun ride and it'll be a fun ride for a good while longer too. It'll be an even more fun ride if the book is successful.

Thanks for reading for the past few years and I hope you keep going for a lot more. As I do more stupid shit. As I get drunker. As I get louder & more belligerent & piss off more people. And as I throw more parties & write more shit. And maybe, just maybe.. Make a little money off this writing thing.

Because I am the awesomest man alive. And you fucking know it.

Random Thought Of The Day #683

Day 683

I'd just like to thank everyone that donated to the Keep The Peace fund. We hit our goal last night.

I didn't want to do that. I didn't even want to think about doing it. I was really hoping it was as simple as someone that didn't think to leave a note or whatever. But it appears as though it was either someone too chickenshit to come forward, or it was someone that wasn't there.

And even if it wasn't... I didn't really like the idea of asking everyone else for money to cover someone elses' fuck-ups. But at the same time, I wasn't going to say "no" to other people offering to help out.

But I really do appreciate everyone pitching in to crowdsource the payment to cover the neighbor's expenses for her deductible. That was fucking rad, yo. And it means a lot to me, personally, that you all would help out.

So seriously... thank you all.

Now... back to the word mines. I've slacked off all week and most of last. I need to keep getting these stories actually typed out. I've got a self-imposed deadline of Halloween to meet!

RTOTD #682.2

Day 682.2

To the kinky people of the city of New York.

Go away. Please. Just shut up and go away.

Apparently you're all rapists and all victims. Can we just give you your own sub-FL page that is separated from the rest of FL? That way, I don't have to keep seeing all of the writings on Kinky & Popular about fucking rape and naming names and consent and whatthefuckeverelse bullshit you came up with this week to throw a tantrum about.

Or just die. I hope you all die.

RTOTD #682.1

Day 682.1

I'm not going to try to put together some witty 1000 words on this topic. I'm just going to say one thing about it:

People that have nothing but random funny pictures or stolen pictures of pretty girls (or ugly girls) or cat memes or whathefuckever... What's up with that?

Seriously. You're not showing your personality. You're showing your Flickr slideshow of random bullshit that makes you giggle.

Oh, right... who am I to talk about people having pictures that aren't of themself on their profile? All I have is a couple shitty or artsy shots (depending on who you ask) of a face that you can barely see. And the majority of the rest are remixed art from someone else. The thing is... they are all related to who I am. They really DO have a thing with my personality. Except for the slip n slide. That's just random. We had a slip n slide at a party. It was funny and kinda awesome. When was the last play party you went to that had a motherfucking slip n slide? Yeah, that's what I thought. I'm better than you.

And I guess the reciept was just to prove the point of the @ElitistFucks being better drinkers than everyone else.

I'm just tired of looking at profiles filled with "oh look, 350 pictures on their profile. And 347 of them are a mixture of random porn & cat pictures and the other 3 are from 14 years ago. Great."

So can we stop that? Really? I kinda wish FL would go back to the old policy of only pictures of you or taken by you. And kinda cracked down on the blatantly stolen pictures. Because if I want to inundate you with porn, all I have to do is make a RTOTD with just "and here's a bunch of porn" at the end.

Even if it means I would have to take down my remixed art.

Random Thought Of The Day #682

Day 682

I have really nothing terribly interesting to say. I'm still irritated and frustrated over this whole hit & run thing. That's pretty much been the only thing I've been able to think about since Monday evening.

Seriously... that ruined my fucking week.

Thanks, random asshole that hit a parked car on the night we were having a party, even if you weren't a guest and will never read this. Jackass.

Then again, I guess this was bound to happen at some point or something like it. It sucks, but still. Something was bound to get fucked up eventually.

I guess I can look at it this way:  It could have been worse. Something actually bad could have happened. Someone could have done something stupid and actually gotten themselves or someone else hurt. I mean, the "act like an adult" caveat is always there to serve as a preventative measure here, but still. Acting like sugared-up children running around a restaurant and annoying the other adults or mentally imbalanced homeless people talking about the satelites reading their thoughts is supposed to be the hallmarks of ... Other... groups. Those that are a little TOO focused on being inclusive.

You should WANT to be better than that. You SHOULD be better than that. And most of you are either there or on their way.

Many of you have been around for a long time. Many of you have been in the scene for even longer than I have. Many of you should know how to find that line between chilling & having a shitload of fun and losing your god damned mind & being an out-of-control teenager. And should know how to stay on the proper side of that line. Most of you do.

But to those of you who don't. To those of you who haven't figured it out yet. To those of you that haven't reached that level of maturity yet. I have just one thing to say to you:

Stay the fuck away from anything I have anything to do with. I'm not your babysitter. And I'm not cleaning up your motherfucking messes. And if you really need a Daddy... I'll play fucking Daddy. You just won't be happy with the boot up your ass that you get as a result or the how much I like playing the "how well does your skull bounce off this concrete curb?" game.

I do it out of love. Or hate. Take your pick.

Oh well... I think Doctor Whiskey is just going to need to write me a prescription this evening before I get angry again at walking down the street to hand the neighbor her deductible in cash just to keep the peace. Even if it looks like all but a small amount of it is coming out of my pocket at this point.

If you're still willing to donate, please do so by paypal at the.science.jesus@gmail.com as any assistance would be greatly appreciated.

Have a nice day, children.

Random Thought Of The Day #681

Day 681

This is why we can't have nice things.

Random Thought Of The Day #680

Day 680

Someone just sent me a message and it got me thinking about something. They asked if it would be an imposition to come over with their partner/play partner/friend/whatever and use some of the toys/equipment that are set up in the house one evening this week.

At first, I was a little caught off guard. Nobody had ever asked me that before. I didn't really know what to say or how to react.

But then I realized something. How much different is it now for newbies getting involved in the scene than it was even a half-dozen or so years ago when I did?

Sure, there's a shitload of munches. There's a lot of ways to get information. FL is pretty much the Facebook of the kinky world and you can learn and share a lot there and even establish some connections before ever venturing out into the real-world of kink. There's always something to do that can get you involved in the scene. From something small to something big. Demos. Munches. Bar Crawls. Concerts. Gallery stuff. Fucking bowling. Whatever. That's awesome. There's always shit to do. That's a big change over the past decade with growth and expansions and splinters and fractures and everything else. Every crack or fracture has led to more surface area, like a disolving grain of sugar, from which expansion can happen. It's grown the scene. It's spread it out more and helped new people get involved a lot easier. It's made that transition from vanilla to kinky life a little easier for a lot of people.

The major difference though. The major negative in the past few years... Play options. And this is because of the lack of a public play space.

No, I'm not going to start a thing about it. I'm not even going to harp on it much. I'm not writing this to call for someone to donate the time & energy & money into putting something together. I really don't care if there's another dungeon ever opened in this city. I have a lot of thoughts on that topic that I've written about before and that you can hunt down in my archives if you want to know my thoughts on dungeon vs. no-dungeon, and I'm not about to rehash them here. I'm just pointing out this paradigm shift for newbies compared to when a lot of us got involved.

When we started out, we either had been playing privately for a while and had some toys & equipment at our disposal that we had collected over the years prior, or just hit up the dungeon as soon as we felt comfortable doing so (and were aware of its existence). If we didn't have any toys, they could be borrowed (within reason) from friends. And the dungeon already had the equipment. So unless we wanted a certain particular piece of equipment, we had most of what we needed available to us. Every Friday & Saturday night. For a couple bucks, you came and used whatever equipment you wanted. Some nights it was busy, some nights it was dead and you had the run of the place. But either way, it was there. It was an option.

Obviously, now it isn't. Well... you know what I mean.

I know that this is a far cry from my normal "oh, fuck them" attitude when it comes to new people, but I guess what I'm saying here is that some of us older, more "seasoned" people... we need to maybe try to put ourselves in their shoes a little bit. Try to remember being younger, or at least new to all of this. Try remembering the first scene you did in public. There's always that stage-fright of doing something for the first time in front of an audience.

Well, unless you're a self-indulgent, egotistical, and borderline sociopathic asshole like me. And then you just don't give a fuck.

That's all I'm saying. I'm not asking anyone to open their home or anything to just let newbs come over and use your shit. I'm just saying that it's gotta suck to not have space to play EVER unless you buy/build shit yourself, get to meet and not piss off the right people to get invited to a house-play-party or fight with hundreds of other people for play space at a big event hundreds of miles from Pittsburgh. But rarely, if ever, have a chance to play without being nervous about who is watching.

Well, I guess there is the Link bar munch (I still, to this day, can't remember which one exactly that is?) with the after-party. So that's an option.

I don't know exactly where I'm going with this one. I guess just the question prompted me to compare & contrast the paradigms that have changed in 6 or 7 years. And how jaded that some of us might be. How accustomed we are to "the status quo" for how play works. And how far removed we might be from being new. Then again, I didn't get much in the line of hand-holding for getting involved in the scene at all & I damn sure didn't get anyone volunteer to play with me or make me feel comfortable my first time around the dungeon.

Maybe that's why I'm such a cynical jackass.

Random Thought Of The Day #679

Day 679

I'm spending today recovering from last night. Fuck... I'm drained. But at the same time, I wanna pick up the rope again.

It's been a LONG time since I've done any rope work. Probably close to a year. But as I found out after just a few moments, that it really was a lot like riding a bike. I picked it up and as soon as I started running the lines around the body for a basic chest harness, it all came flooding back.

I'll admit... I was quite nervous at first. And more so once everyone decided to come watch me. Fuck, I like the spotlight but that was a little awkward for me. I mean... I have barely even touched rope in a year or so and now there's a dozen people that all decided "hey, Joe's tying up Spiel Mit Mir downstairs. Let's go watch! We never see him play" or something. All the while, I'm just trying to get myself back up on that horse. It would be like if an athlete didn't play for a couple years and then everyone crowded around to watch him tie his skates and glide out on the ice for the first time. All he's trying to do is hope he doesn't fall on his face. That's all I was doing. I just didn't wanna fall on my face. Or rather, let my rope bottom fall on hers. Cause... you know... that's a bad thing.

Even if they're suspended above sand.

The thing is... it was just an odd night for me in a number of ways. I haven't done pick-up play in going on 3 years now. No joke. The last just random pick-up play with someone that I wasn't dating or sleeping with was at COPE in 2009. So I was already a little off because I didn't have that existing connection to make it easier or more comfortable. I was already a little off before I picked up the rope.

Throw the audience that randomly appeared on top of that and it was definitely a little uncomfortable for me.

But this was one of those cases where I just totally ignored them. Everyone sitting around looking. I just blocked them out. Normally, I'd play to that, but this time... I just needed to focus on getting the first couple runs right. Get used to the feeling of the rope in my hands again. Let it come back to me. But once I got the chest harness done and was starting onto the thighs & ass, I kinda realized that a lot of my past knowledge was coming back. Slowly but steadily. Picking up some steam as it flowed back into my brainbox. I was starting to feel comfortable again. Not completely. But I was feeling... competent. Not skilled. Not even "good". Just competent. And that's all I needed for tonight. I needed to feel like I knew what I was doing and also knew the limitations of my muscle memory for tying.

I eventually played to the audience a little. Just some basic "you're up in the air, now fly!" type things. But nothing major.

I feel like I'm getting back on that horse slowly. And it's something I'd like to do more of in the near future. It was fun and I've kinda got those floodgates opened back up. I want to feel the rope in my hands again. I want to start running those lines around a body. I want to pull and lift and bind and control again. I want to build back all the muscle memory that I HAVE lost and get better than I was before.

Rigging was always something that I was proficient at, but not great. And I think this time around, I want to get good. I don't want it to just be another tool in my bag of tricks. Something that is done just to get to some other activity.

But I can promise that it won't be done on sand again anytime soon. At least not sand at my house. Because the Tropical Paradise Beach Basement Suspensions are a thing of the past. Sand inside is just really not a good idea. The last hurrah for it was for Sybele's birthday. Because an Arabian Nights theme NEEDED sand.