Dust - RTOTD #835

Day 835

A conversation last night after going a few rounds in the sack while the girl was groping me:

Me: "It's not getting up again. It's tired and just wants to go to sleep. Like me"

Her: "But but but...

Me: "Even if I did get it up again and even if I did get off again, the only thing you'd get out is a cloud of dust"

So I want you all to stop for a minute and imagine that. Imagine you're about to blow or be blown on and setting up a good ol'fashioned facial. Because facials are totally ol' fashioned, right? They were doing that shit in the 1800's, right? Well whatever... so you're waiting for an epic facial and when the moment comes...

well...

A cloud of dust shoots in her face. That gives a new meaning to the old exploding cigar gag from Loony Tunes, right?

I (Less Than 3) Commies - RTOTD #834

Day 834

This is why I love commies. It really takes almost zero effort to make fun of them. They really do just hand you the material and wait for you to make the joke. Fuck, you don't even need to write it. I could stand up and just read the newspaper and it reads like comedy.

Kim Jong-Un had his ex-girlfriend and their entire band executed for violating North Korea's anti-pornography laws. Because I guess they made a porn and sold it in China.

Seriously. A dozen people. Executed for making weak-ass clebrity porn and trying to be the Tommy Lee & Pam Anderson of Asia.

$5 says it was recorded on a Betamax camcorder because they still don't have digital.

And it's all in greyscale or with that blue/grey hue from CSI New York and all of the winter episodes of Law & Order. In fact, I have never been to North Korea, but I'm gonna bet that when you walk across the border from South Korea into North Korea, everything just magically becomes a grey-hued world. And you can see the sunny nice areas across the border, but everyting inside your country? Totally blue/grey-toned. Like there's a gigantic wall of depression around you and you're stuck inside it.

I bet they even give you a gun and just 1 single bullet when you get there in your official "Welcome To North Korea" WelcomeWagon kit. Along with a couple sticks to make a fire so you're not entirely without creature comforts, maybe a canteen, a map that you can't understand that has the 2 places you can find clean water but they're all on the other side of the country, maybe a blanket, like 20,000 korean dollars (worth roughly 38 US cents) and a backpack. But then you get a copy of the rule book for dummies and it's 35,000 pages and you realize that you can't carry any of your other stuff because the backpack is only big enough for the damn rule book.

Because even when you get (sorta) nice things there, it still sucks.

You can go find one of their amusement parks though for a happy-fun-times-good-day thing. But it's closed and abandoned. But at least then, maybe it'll let you live out your life-long dream of being a Scooby Doo villain. Except the Mystery Machine won't ever find you and you'll just get bored of dressing like a ghost or robot or viking or some weird shit all the time for no reason for absolutely no reason. 

Seriously, why was the creepy old guy ever actually dressed up like something in the first place? I never quite understood their scams or whatever their diabolical evil plans were. They were just dressing weird and scaring people for fun? Or was there like an endgame? Did I miss something? And why the fuck were these stoners in a VW Bus just driving from amusement park to amusement park to zoo to fucking abandoned mine to random castle anyway? Wasn't this during the gas crisis in the 70's? Where the fuck did they fill up their tank?

And I somehow just connected executed korean musicians, communism, and scooby fucking doo. I guess I'm maybe starting to get back on my game a little with this shit.

I actually started writing a big rant about commies and the people that are always screaming for "sex workers" rights, and then I stopped caring because FUCK POLITICS and figured I'd end it with Deadpool and hookers instead.

R.I.P. English - RTOTD #833

Day 833

No. No. No. NO! NO! NO NO NONONONONONONONONO FUCKING NO!

We've finally reached a point in human history were I'm legitimately ready to give up on the English language.

Yes, it's a complicated bastardization and amalgamation of a few different older languages. Latin and German and fucking whatever else. But it works. And it's worked for a good long while now. Though I still will argue that middle English is fucking dumb as shit. But that's neither here nor there.

No, I think it's time we just gave it up and made like a fucking metric system for language. Something that fucks everyone over and we're all stuck learning a new bullshit language. But I don't want to do this because of some fucking gay one-world, kumbaya, united nations, touchy feely bullshit reason. I just want to screw everyone else over if we have to replace it. The metric system is a commie plot. This is a plot to make everyone equally miserable. Wait, I think that also sounds like a commie plot.

Sorry. Sidetracked for a moment.

Why is the English language dead, you ask? Well, isn't that a coincidence because I was just about to tell you. But maybe I won't know? Oh, you know what, I'm feeling in an angry, spiteful, vicious and overall excellent mood this morning. So I'll tell you.

English is dead because of the fucking words we keep adding. For instance, after the travesty of adding "bling bling" a few years back, we've decided to raise the stakes for our game of poor grammatical decisions by adding some of the following:

srsly, selfie, phablet, lolz, tweep, twerk, bwahahaha and tl; dr and a few more.

Yes. SERIOUSLY (see, I even fucking SPELLED IT!) all of those words have been added to the dictionary.

Look, I have no problem with people that still act like they're 14 and blabber incessantly in 4th grade level intertron speak. I occasionally will throw in an LOL or "haha" simply to convey a degree of humor because I'm a dick and sarcasm doesn't translate well to text. I regularly butcher the English language and often times make up words when I don't feel like finding a thesaurus or dictionary.  Fine. Cool. But you won't hear me say the word "lolz" out fucking loud. Or phablet. Or any of those ridiculous words. Because those aren't actually WORDS. They're a clusterfuck of sounds that escape your face hole.

Granted, I'm pretty sure that Keith Giffen should get credit for making "bwahahaha" into a thing since he's pretty much the originator of taking the 1930's robber baron mustache-twirling villain laugh and popularizing it in text ever since his1980's comic book work. But hey, whatever. It's just no longer a geek thing. It got mainstream acceptance now, so I guess it's cool enough to get into a dictionary. Whatever.

So I'm pronouncing it here and now. The English language is dead. Time to start creating its replacement.

I'll start now:

Dur gavlz qurok jingerboob sublavynz gurglesmack

That means:

I have lost all faith in humanity.

Or rather, what little faith in it I had remaining.

Let's build our new language, if for no other reason than to throw away the embarrassment of having "tweeps" in our dictionary. We will call this new language... Joeish. And we will make it the fuck up as we go along. Well, this is a different version of Joeish than the one I presently use whenever I'm just making up my own words as I go along and then publishing them in a book that people actually pay money for, but hey... I can recycle. See? I just followed the first rule of our new language. Make shit up.

A Morning Prayer - RTOTD #832

Day 832

Wakey, wakey, boys and girls. 

It's long past time to get a start on the day. Those knives aren't going to sharpen themselves. That chloroform soaked rag isn't going to wrap itself around your victim's mouth all alone. The ropes don't bind themselves and the blindfolds don't know how to knot. And that cage in your basement isn't going to fill itself with prisoners. You have to work for it.

The tears & screams & terror & blood must be wrought with our hands and our minds.

SO GET UP!

There's evil to be done. 

 

Grey Matters - RTOTD #831

Day 831

I'm starting to keep a little notebook filled with little one-liner insults or descriptors that I haven't found an organic use for in writing. It's fairly short right now, but that's because I realized sometime in the last few weeks that I've come up with far too many clever or funny things that I don't have a use for quite yet and have forgotten to write them down and lost them forever.

And fuck, sometime I might want to just put together a list of them to share or I'll actually find a way to use them and if I don't write them down, how will I remember them all? I have random strings of numbers or comic book continuity or where I left the remote control to remember. I can't be using the grey matter for superflous things like clever sayings or the names of people I really don't care about yet keep running into, like any of the dump truck fires of emotional baggage that I've fucked over the years.

Though, I always remember the names of the bullets I've dodged. That list is a lot shorter:

Like PlayBoyBunny. I almost got married to that one. That was almost an unmitigated disaster.

Or that GothSlut. I still got a flesh wound out of that one, but I'm still kicking.

Or DeadEx. Well, just because she's dead. Not really that I dodged any bullets there outside of a few altercations with a pissed off cop husband. Just that she's dead so I kinda felt compelled to remember her name. I'm not COMPLETELY heartless. Just mostly.

But for the rest, forgetting the names of these trainwrecks helps me disassociate from being as horrible of a human being as I was for even sticking my dick inside some of them. They needed heavy drugging. Instead, I let them reinforce their daddy issues a penis at a time. I'm kind of a raging dickhead like that. If I don't remember their names, I can't recognize mistakes or learn or anything. And I'm all refusing any fault.

Though in my defense, I don't think I ever really noticed how much of a tsunami of glitter and non-ironic-700-club-viewer type crazy some of these girls were at the time. At least in my experience, I didn't catch the telltale signs until I looked at it in retrospect. I was pussy blind.

But that's kinda how that stuff goes. Fun and crazy and "oh god, is she going to stab my in my sleep?" are often difficult to differentiate in the moment.

I don't know where I was going with this at the beginning and I don't really feel like scrolling back up to remember what it was. So I'll leave you with these parting words:

God bless dads that don't give their daughters attention growing up and only provide creature comforts. I never would have gotten nearly as much ass as I have in my life if I actually had to be anything but a substitute male figure that reinforces that objectification.

Nananananananananana... Affleck!! - RTOTD #830

Day 830

Seriously? Ben Affleck? As Batman?

Is his suit going to have nipples? Did I fall into a time-warp where the same guys casting for Joel Schumacher's Batman movies that gave us George Cloony and Val Kilmer (pre-fatass) as Batman never got fired? Cause it seems like it.

Or maybe Kevin Smith is going to direct it and it's ACTUALLY going to be the real Bluntman & Chronic movie. Cause that's something that I could maybe get behind.

Or maybe it's going to be the most fucked up genre twisting meta bullshit ever.

For instance:

Superman from the movie that came out this summer somehow ends up inside that Christopher Reeves Superman movie where he fights the nuclear not-superman guy that Lex Luthor built and throws missles into the sun. But it turns out that that is actually in the same universe as the Adam West Batman. So when he runs away from that mullet-wearing fake Superman guy and runs into Adam West Batman it's actually Ben Affleck in the costume because why the fuck not? And when BatFleck falls asleep, he dreams that he's actually Adam West from the tv show. And the Adam West Batman tv show is actually US watching HIS dreams that he projects into our reality because it turns out that he's REALLY superman that's been mind-switched with Batman and he's got all the weird Silver-Age Superman powers like super knitting and that chest cellophane thing he used in the one movie and the little tiny miniture superman that can pop out of his palm and fight on the microscopic level. Dream projection into tv waves is one of those Silver-Agey powers.

And in the end, Affleck ends up as Superman and that guy from Man of Steel finds out the he was just a fever dream of Silver-Age Superman who is also Adam West Batman. And somehow Brainiac is responsible.

Dum dum dum......

Seriously... this is going to be a bigger disaster than Daredevil and Elektra combined. DC/Warner Brothers really doesn't have a fucking clue what it's doing, does it? Shit, this is a worse idea than Greedo shooting first.

Event Apathy - RTOTD #829

Day 829

So here's a challenge for you all:

Convince me why I need to re-think my "fuck events' policy and make an argument for why any specific event is special. Pick your favorite event and tell me why it's killer and why I should want to go. Because I am reaching a point where I am maybe(?) re-thinking my "fuck events" policy but can't really figure out why I should reverse it. Nothing I can think of is doing the job, but it's a policy I've had for a while now and I've justified it with things like "you can't drink there so it's not really your scene" and "you hate dealing with new people at this point and 95% of people at events are new people so it's not really your scene" and "you don't really play much at this point and none of the classes speak to you, so why not just stay home and watch tv?" or "I'm tired of seeing naked people that I don't want to see naked and it seems like events are filled to the brim with them" and other arguments that a narcissist with some borderline sociopathic tendencies would make.

And they're all very true and very accurate arguments as to why I shouldn't bother to change my mind. But I'm trying to have a more fair debate in my head about it and can't come up with much beyond "new boobs, some of which I might actually want to see" or "I can play the 'see how many people I can make hate me' game with strangers in a different city" but those kinda suck.

So that's where you come in. I want you to push me off the fence. I can't remember why I enjoyed them at all in the first place, or if I really even did. The cynical side of me has been telling me for a while now that the only reason I ever bothered with events in the past is because whoever I was fucking at the time really wanted to go. And to keep them happy, I'd give in and go and then, once there, I just kinda meh'd my way thru it all weekend until it was time to go home and I could go back to not giving a fuck. But I don't know if that's actually true or just something else I tell myself to reinforce my "fuck events" policy.

That's why I want you to try to convince me otherwise. Hell, just use it as a chance for you to pimp whatever event you really care about.Or tell me to stay the fuck away from your event if you're an organizer and don't want to deal with me. Or it might make me really want to go to your event then if for no other reason than to fuck with you and cause a problem. Because I'm a dick like that.

But I want to try to find some of what I used to think was passion again and maybe hearing about the passion of others will help me find mine again.

Blah.

Joe vs. The Volcano - RTOTD #828

Day 828

Do you know what the world is missing more of? Virgins sacrificed into a volcano. Why did we get away from this?

Also... something about the virgin sacrifice has always bothered me and I think I just put it all together: It was an early attempt at pushing girls into being sluts.

Follow me here. So you have a girl and in order to be a virgin sacrifice, they had to be of at least a certain age, right? Otherwise, you'd just wait until someone in the village had a crippled, deformed, children-of-brothers-and-sisters kinda baby and then hey... look at that! Instant sacrifice. But I guess the "gods" realized that that was cheating or something and told the chieftains that the sacrifice had to be someone that it would suck to lose. Or maybe someone that could realize what was about to happen to them. Which, let me interject for a second, is kinda fucked up, right? It's only acceptable to throw some girl into a volcano if she's old enough and aware enough to realize that she's about to be thrown into a fucking volcano? What kinda shit is that? First you're killing her, but that's not good enough. You gotta throw in some terror too. Because what kinda sacrifice is it if there isn't some fucking terror, I guess. Sadistic fucks.

But back on my line of reasoning here... So we've established that it can't just be the village half-wit or hunchback or some shit. It's gotta be someone that isn't a waste of DNA.

Next, it's gotta be a girl. Because fucking whatever. Boys can fight or whatever. Girls are just baby incubators or something. I'm not going to really bother delving into the fucked up thinking of our ancestors when it came to the actual utility of women in society and just let this one slide because it's going to cause me to go off on a gigantic rant that's got nothing to do with throwing motherfuckers into volcanoes & slutty girls.

So now, it's a girl and she's aware of what's happening, probably a teenager or something. Next we get to add the next layer to the criteria. Virgin. And this is where it gets fucking weird.

These ridiculously antiquated societies (I hesitate to call them civilizations yet since they're still throwing people into volcanoes to appease invisible men in the sky and under the ground) and even today with a good chunk of the middle east, they have strict rules about women and their purity. Motherfuckers will stone a woman to death to this day for being raped in some fucked up backwards parts of this planet. And sex before marriage will probably get your head cut off. All in the name of maintaining the purity of the woman before her wedding day. Because the best way to celebrate the day of being effectively handed to some guy to do with what they wish, and them being paid to take you off your dad's hands, is to bleed in a sensitive area from losing your cherry. Cause they couldn't find another way to make your day shitty in these fucked up cultures shy of female circumcision. I guess.

So these cultures basically demand that girls stay virgins. And then the reward for actually following the customs? You get put into the volcano lottery if you're not married off yet. What kinda shit is that?

So really, the only way to avoid being in the Miss Volcano 485 BC Contest is to not meet their criteria. Not a virgin? Can't go in the volcano.

Granted, the slut option isn't really much of a great fall-back. Because at best, you're disowned and cast out by the village. At worse, you're executed because I'm not even making excuses or trying to understand cultural customs anymore. But hey, still beats the "definitely gonna die in a volcano" options.

But from looking at it from a simple "positive vs negative reinforcement" view, it seems like the downsides of being a tramp are a lot less serious than the upsides of staying as a virgin. And that doesn't make a goddamned bit of sense to me.

So really, it might be the backhanded way of telling girls "if you can't get married quick enough before the new models are on the market, just start being a slut. At least then you're safe from being a village sacrifice and it's better than the alternative." And it might explain why every time you see some virgin about to sacrificed, she's dressed kinda trampy and she's pretty hot. Because her volcano groom wants her to look pretty for when he BURNS HER THE FUCK ALIVE!

But back to my original thought... I think we need to start doing a volcano toss again. Except this time around, we'll be equal opportunity. Virgins of any gender get the chance. Like the Hunger Games, except the people from the other districts are a volcano and you can't win.

A Long Lost Thought - RTOTD #827

I've been working on cleaning up my archives (and adding things to the archives here. The first 30-some or 40 days of the RTOTD is up way way WAY at the end of this blog) and I came across a couple unpublished thoughts. Shit that I don't know why I didn't post at the time. Well, maybe I understand why I didn't post them but now I don't give a shit and am going to just throw anything out there that I can come up with.

It also makes me realize that I'm just not thinking the same way I used to. I'm not going off on rants about things. Now I'm blabbering about plasti dip and fucking cartoons. Jesus. It really makes me hate my newer material. Because this SHOULD be something fun and amusing and random to read or write every day. Instead, I've been trying to make it so fucking interesting that I'm back in that "It's becoming a job" thing by caring what the fuck I write instead of just being an exercise in my rambling, incoherent brain wildly firing thought bullets like a blind man with an inner ear infection at the shooting range. And then assessing the collateral damage when the smoke clears.

And with that said, on to the retro thought given a modern date.

Day 827

So it's bad enough that there's pretty much a reality show for everyone at this point. There's those duck people, all those swamp idiots trying to catch alligators or whatever the fuck they do, there was the midget family, the people that had all the children in the history of ever, those walking plastic surgery factories that called themselves housewives, and just about any other person that they can find to act like a jackass on camera and get famous for being a total doucherocket. On camera.

But now... now we have hillbilly gypsies from West by-god Virginia that apparently think pre-marital sex is horrible but fucking and marrying your cousin? Totally cool. And perfectly normal. You all ain't doing West Virginia any favors. You're really from Kentucky and are just doing what you can to make West Virginia look bad, right? Couldn't find a goat to fuck in the meantime to help out with reinforcing the stereotype a little more? Find any city boys to make squeal like a pig recently?

I mean, don't get me wrong... I love any reason to laugh at hillbillies, West Virginia, make a Deliverance joke (which, oddly enough, I only saw less than half of, a number of years ago. I should watch that movie) and find a way to play up the stereotypes even more from that god-forsaken shitstain of a state. Well, godforsaken shithole state with really really nice roads. Seriously... I'd almost be cool with going the WV route and have a former Klansman being our senior Senator for a few years in PA just to get roads half as nice as Byrd got for them. Then I remembered that I have black friends and they probably wouldn't like that. And I like them more than I like West Virginia's roads.

So feel privileged, my black friends. I shall protect you from the klansman! Even if it means shitty roads!

I need a cape now. Because I'm a superhero that saves black people.

Did I just actually write that? Cause that might have been kinda wrong. But it made more sense in my head and was totally less racially insensitive.

Bring The Boom - RTOTD #826

Day 826

Do you know the one aspect of being in that 17-20 range that I miss? Having a stereo system that could rattle your teeth but not the trunk.

I had one in my Jeep that I spent a shitload of time and energy making sure didn't sound like 99% of the other "teenager with a loud ass car stereo" out there. I mounted the speakers right. I balanced them even better. The insall job was CLEAN, hidden and based on the type of box and speakers that I installed, and the way that Jeeps are built, I didn't get a single bit of that obnoxious license plate rattle that 99% of everyone else ended up with.

You know what I'm talking about. When you're sitting at a red light and some kid in a souped up Honda Civic pulls up next to you and has an exhaust that sounds like a back-firing lawnmower and then all of a sudden, his stereo starts playing and it's so loud that you can FEEL it. And while his choice of music is shit, because 95% of all music made after 2003 is complete garbage and he's 17 so that's all he knows, it wouldn't even be that bad if 1) you could hear the treble. At all. Hell, even if the mid-range gets lost in the shuffle, being able to hear the highs even a bit would be good. and 2) the entire back half of his car didn't sound like someone stuck a coffee can filled with pennies in a paint mixing machine and set it on high. Fuck, even wobble bass wouldn't be intolerable if you weren't concerned that his bumper might fall off and cause an accident if he somehow ends up in front of you. And he will, because even if it's bumper to bumper traffic, he's going to put his foot on the floor as soon as the light turns green so that he can show how fast his car is. And to justify that spoiler that's taller than the roof of his car on a front wheel drive car.

See, that's the downside of putting in a stereo system. Asshats like that that give car audio enthusiasts, or music enthusiasts that happen to spend a lot of time in their car, a bad name. They make people that put time and energy into putting together an exceptional sounding, rattle-free stereo system look like assholes too. Granted, most of us are. We're non-consensually shoving our music preferences on your ears at every red light, on every street, every highway, and every heavy stream of stop & go traffic. We're dicks like that. We make talking on your cellphone while driving difficult. But I prefer to look at it like we're doing a public service and a health service all at once. First, you shouldn't be talking on the phone will driving anyway. That radio car commercial lady that's always  talking to some guy named Larry, who'se stuck in a ditch is, constantly telling us that. And second, we're saving you from brain cancer. We're helpful like that.

Granted, the policeman sometimes doesn't see it that way, but fuck him. People with loud stereos are providing a vital community service.

I miss that. I mean, I don't mind the more "normal" stock stereos from cars today. The quality of the stock stuff is a million times better than it was in the late 90's, but it's still not the same. You get much above 50% volume and the stock stereos start to crackle and pop because they just can't handle the type of power that aftermarket equipment can. I had 2 high-end 10" subwoofers each getting 130 watts from an qaulity amp, a decent set of mid-range components, and some great mid-highs and highs in the front. I even still have the 3-way plate speakers that I had in my dashboard. It was balanced in a way that could make you feel like you were having a heart attack from the bass fucking with your heartrate, but you could still clearly hear the high-end and mid range in a way that most people never expected when they first sat down in the car. The distortion was virtually non-existent and it scared deer away from a mile in every direction. It was fucking awesome.

And as I said, I miss that. I think I need to do that again. I want that rolling disturbing the peace violation back. Because while "racecar" is certainly a worthwhile objective, so is being able to listen to some sick music while annoying the general public and being the envy of 17 year old kids with a 1996 Buick Skylark everywhere.

Or maybe I just want something that sounds better than stock. Mostly because I'm like half deaf at this point and want to get myself the rest of the way there. That way I have an excuse when I just entirely ignore 95% of the conversations that people try to have with me unless it involves a girl taking off her clothes.

Like Stepping On A Lego - RTOTD #825

Day 825

Bailey is super pathetic right now. He's wearing a cone again. And he's also gotta wear a sock 24/7.

It started the day after ArtemisFallen & I took all 3 dogs to the park. They all wore themselves out from running or wandering. They had a blast.

The next day though, I got a text while I was at work, telling me that Bailey was limping. I was concerned but not worried. He hadn't been running that much at home since he hates the dog run & has recently had the tendency to go on adventures if I leave him outside off the run rope. So I assumed he had strained something at the park. I would check it out when I got home.

I got home and lo and behold, he was certainly limping but it didn't seem to be anything major. He was laying down when I walked in the door but got up as soon as he saw me. His first few steps, he was obviously favoring one leg but after about 4 or 5 steps, he seemed to be getting along just fine and the limp faded. My assumptions seemed to be confirmed when he didn't wince or whine about it and the limp went away quickly.

Over the next few days, the limp got progressively less pronounced until it was only when he was lying around for very long periods that it would show up during his first or 2nd step before fading again. I wasn't worried. He was getting better. It was just a reminder that until I get my yard fenced in and he can run around as much as he'd like, I need to get him to the park more often.

But then something changed.

About 5 days after the limp had shown up, it had minimized but not entirely gone away. And on the 6th day, it almost seemed to be just a slight bit worse again. He hadn't been running much because I was letting him heal before taking him back out the park, but he had certainly been up and about a good bit. But on the 7th day, it seemed to be even worse still. Now I was getting concerned again. This isn't the normal healing process. Something must be wrong. He looked like he was stepping on a lego with his right paw with every step he took. This was no good.

I checked the pads of his feet and didn't see anything wrong. I checked every inch of his legs, all the way up to the shoulders and still couldn't find a single spot that seemed to cause him the slightest amount of discomfort. He didn't wince or whine or cry once as I inspected him but I knew something was wrong.

By this point though, the roomies were both out of town and Bailey had gone to visit Grandma & Grandpa for a few days. 2 dogs are easier to deal with than 3 by myself and they liked his company. Plus, he's used to being around people during the day while I'm at work, so fuck it. They can play with him for a few days. We all need a vacation from our kids. Even if we're babysitting for others at the same time.

A few more days passed and finally my brother called me to tell me that they had found a lump on his one paw. Not even really on the paw but on the side of a paw pad, almost on the webbing of his feet. And it was a fairly nice sized lump too. About the size of a large green pea. They checked online and found that soaking the foot in cold water can often help it and prevent the dog from at least licking or trying to bite at it. It worked for the night. But by the next morning (Friday), the lump was bigger and more prounounced. I called the Vet. It's nice having a vet that's the mother of a close frind (Whiskey) and has known you for years socially. She could see him that afternoon.

I was at work and unable to go with him, but I got the phone calls keeping me updated. He had a large infection and it was not something that would go away on it's own with or without antibiotics. they needed to lance it off.

I won't get into the gory details, but they drained a lot of gunk out of it and it took them a few hours to get the bleeding to stop. Being that it was on the webbing of his feet, they didn't want to stitch the area and wanted it to naturally scab. He stayed at the vet for a few more hours while they waited, mostly groggy from anesthesia and painkillers and antibiotics. I knew I couldnt' bring him back home until he was better. He was going to be staying with Grandma & Grandpa until he was better. Mostly because I don't trust the other 2 to leave his damn foot alone.

As they were about the leave the Vet, his limp had already almost completely vanished. But he looked crazy pathetic.

I was given strict orders. No running. Don't let it get wet. Change the sock regularly. 4 pills of antibiotics per day. He can't be off-leash when he goes outside. And the cone has to stay on until it's healed so he doesn't go at the scab.

He's playing it up too. He's not allowed on the beds or couches at Grandma & Grandpa's house but he knows he can get away with it now because he's injured. He can sleep on a bed. He can get on the couch. He can get pretty much all the people food that he wants and all he has to do is wear some stupid sock and that cone? Done and fucking DONE.

 

He goes back to the Vet tomorrow for a follow-up to make sure he's healing right. I'll be there with him this time. I'm not missing 2 vet appointments.

AMA #3 (Maybe?) - RTOTD #824

Day 824

It's another Ask Me Anything day. I don't know if this is the 3rd one or the 4th one or whatever but yeah. I'll be answering every question posted. So make with the questions & I'll answer them, motherfuckers. I think it's because I'm out of inspiration for anything else to write.

Final Week! - RTOTD #823

Day 823

This is the last week that Hold My Beer & Watch This will be free to download. So get it while it's ... you know... free.

Here are all the links again in THIS POST

So go and steal from me. Because we know that you're all a bunch of cheap bastards. And apparently $2.99 was too much to spend on it.

After Friday, the price goes back up in anticipation of the next book due out in... oh fuck. 4 months? I've still got like 1/2 of it to get written. I should maybe try doing some work on that again soon and stop just drowning myself in plasti dip & mindless jibber jabber about nothing on the intertron.

Blah. I'm getting in that "I'm losing interest" mode again and nothing is speaking to me. Nothing really has spoke to me in a week or 2 and I'm frustrated about that. Maybe I just need to stop trying to write a column every day and just focus on throwing out whatever nonsense is in my head again. Even if it is just a day where I ramble about music, comic books, sluts, booze or how much I really hate you all.

So fuck you. This is the best you're gonna get today.

And in honor of the new Doctor Who casting, here's who SHOULD have been cast as Doctor Who:

Because you know what the world really needs is a new Doctor that talks to himself even more and then breaks the 4th wall as a part of everyday life while knowing that he's a fictional character.

Although Warren Ellis probably would have been a good second option. Because I can only imagine how must of a clusterfuck that would have been.

Bon Voyage - RTOTD #822

Day 822

I really don't have anything that I feel like screaming about today or anything that's really on my mind. So I'm just going to send a shout-out to a soon-to-be-departed Epsilon Phi brother:

Comedy Police is leaving tomorrow or wednesday (or whenever that happens to be on Dave-time. I don't know. I don't pay attention to things that people are doing that don't have to do with me.) for California. Possibly for good. After a short stint in DC and an even shorter reunion back in the Steel City, he's departing for California for a far more promising opportunity.

So anyone of my readers in the Northern California area... not Bay Area (yeah, cause anyone in the Bay Area is going to read my stuff except for bulletin board material at their next "white men are the devil!" meetings) but closer to Nevada. If any of you feel compelled to welcome him, do so. He's a pretty good guy. Never even CLOSE to on time for anything, but still a great guy. We're gonna miss him around here.

He can be the substitute for not having me there. An annual trip out to LA is about all of the Left Coast that I can handle without going on a rampage. Though I will say that you can't beat the sheer quantity of hot whores out there per capita. Ahhh... plastic surgery. Ain't it great?

So someone offer him a welcoming cigar, beer, and blowjob. Really make him feel at home. Or at least temporarily forget that he's in a part of the country that I kinda wish would fall into the ocean.

Farewell, brother. We'll miss you.

Even if we should have started setting your clocks forward by an hour just to ensure you showed up even close to on-time for anything.

In the meantime, I'm going to come over to your house tonight and eat free meat or fish or whatever it is you guys are cooking and not waste another moment of fucking with you or watching you get far too competitive at beer pong.

Why Is Captain Power Standing On My Desk? - RTOTD #821

Day 821

I really wish that the 1980's would have saved some of it's boatload of comic-book-like fictional cartoon and tv show and action figure characters for the 90's. It would have helped prevent the "everything is a fucking anime!" thing that's been going on for the past 15-20 years.

I only thought about that because I came across an old toy that had as a kid back in the 80's. Captain Power. Does anyone even remember captain power? I only have a vague recollection of him but he's about eh same size as a GI Joe, so I think I let him be the awesome future soldier that would come back to prevent COBRA from taking over the world in the epic basement warfare scenarios that I would often orchestrate on a regular basis.

I'm pretty certain he was one of those "let's make up a character and then make a toy of that character and then make a tv show of that character so that we can use one to sell the other but not really certain which one sold which one" things that happened all the fucking time in the 80's. And to be honest, he got lost in the shuffle of the heyday of the Transformers and GI Joe and MASK and a dozen or 4 other tv/action figure-hybrid sales/rating model marketing campaigns of the same era.

And then the whole model died on the vine for a little while and was replaced by a comic book speculator bubble. Not because of lack of quality (though the quality did certainly suffer) but because of over saturation. Or maybe those reasons go hand-in-hand. Mattel and Hasbro and ToyBiz and all the other ones kept pumping new material out into the market but didn't really give any creative behind it. Honestly, it wasn't much different than 90's comics. It was "hey, this shit looks cool that I just drew/designed... let's make a new franchise" and instead of investing the time to actually build that franchise, they just kinda say "oh look, I drew another cool thing. Another franchise!" and on and on until there were 74923953 new fucking franchises without a single coherent story behind them.

And that's where it all fell on it's face. GI Joe and Transformers in the 80's were huge hits because someone actually told some stories with them before moving on to the next 83 franchises being launched that week. And once there was a significant number of stories out there for people to reference and kids to enjoy, the sales just kept going.

Although a business plan of "grow it every quarter to sell people another half dozen versions of Snake Eyes" is one I still don't understand. A kid still isn't dumb and can't play with all (legitimately) 66 different costume variant versions of Snake Eyes at the same time. He only plays with 1 because there's only 1 Snake Eyes. And 1 Duke. and 1 Road Block. No matter how cool that other version of him is, they still know inherently that they can only use 1 of them in that particular battle.

But I got off onto a tangent there. The point I was making was that the other 9234945921 franchises like Captain Power that were launched at the same time didn't really HAVE any story. They had a little bit, but at least with Captain Power, I was always confused at how it was supposed to work. As a kid and now.

See, the thing that happened was that you'd get this action figure and with the toy came a VHS tape. And some sort of gun thing. The action figure had a hole right thru his chest and you were supposed to do this thing where you'd play the VHS tape and stick the gun into the hole on the back of his chest so that it would shoot out thru the clear plastic window in the front. And then the VHS tape was supposed to be some sort of video game.

Except that even as a 7 year old kid I realized "something here doesn't make sense... it's a VHS tape. Even if you don't play the "game" and just press play on it, the same things show up on the screen. The same video game "blam" noises happen and nothing changes whether you play the game or not. Because it's a vhs tape and it's not fucking interactive. And it couldn't be. You can't do a choose-your-own-adventure VHS tape without fast forwarding to certain times or changing to another VHS tape but that's essentially what this was. Or what it was portraying itself as.

And see... when even a 7 year old can tell that you're insulting their intelligence, that's a bit of a problem. And your "franchise" is going to fail.

I guess I got off topic a little just because I got into a little rant. But what I'm saying was that there were like 9000 of these fucking things created in a few year span that all fell flat on their face because there wasn't enough thought put into it ahead of time. They totally could have tried holding onto a couple of those ideas for the 90's when they totally fucking lost any ounce of creativity. And just imported Anime cartoons and made a bunch of confusing card games.

Then again, now that I think about it... how the fuck did Duck Hunt work? It wasn't VHS, but still... that's going to bug me now.

A Helpful Lifehack - RTOTD #820

Day 820

I know we all have this happen: we're out somewhere and we run into someone we know that we should know but don't really remember. They remember us. We know that we've met them before but either they didn't leave enough of an impression to bother remembering their name or we were drunk or we're just a narcissist with an antisocial personality disorder and borderline sociopathy. But I guess you'll be dealing with the first 2 options. It's ok. Not everyone can be as awesome as me.

I have a trick for this if you can't remember their name. Assuming you're actually having a conversation. My most recent encounter with this was one of those situations where we said hello/nodded at each other but didn't actually engage in a conversation. In that case, just keep walking and forget their existence again until you've got no choice but to engage them. This is always my preferred method. Complete disregard.

But the best way I've found to deal with not remembering who someone is what I call the ID Game. Steer the conversation into how well or poor that you photograph. Then break out your ID to prove the point. They'll feel obligated to do the same and you really don't give a damn about what their photo looks like. You just want to remember their name.

And maybe their address so you can stalk them later or wait outside their front door with a knife. But that's also another "me" thing. You never know when it might be helpful to know where to attack. They might eventually cross you, or say something you disagree with on the internet. In which case, you already know where to go to punch them in the mouth and break their fingers so they can't type anymore. You don't even need to challenge them to a fight over an internet disagreement. It's the ultimate sucker punch.

So there you go. Instant way to avoid that awkward situation where you need to ask someone what their name is because you couldn't be bothered to waste the grey matter remembering it.

Unless you're like me and don't really give a damn what their name is and like to point that fact out that you don't remember them because they're not important enough to be remembered. Though I'm pretty sure that's how the premise for Iron Man 3 worked. And that led to fire-breathing people that regenerate. So I'm not sure how good that works out in the long run.

Ha. Joke's on them! Good thing for me that my overall lifestyle of excess, debauchery, and belligerence is leading me towards an early grave anyway. I won't be around to deal with the fire-breathing people that are the consequences of my disregard of social norms. Like Elvis. Except probably not while sitting on the crapper.

I'll probably be in the street walking towards another bar.