Murderizer - RTOTD #801

Day 801

A thought came to me today & I felt compelled to share it. Because I'm a gracious deity & you have sort-of behaved recently.

I think we should begin a new tradition. I've always been curious as to why Good Friday is labeled as such. A motherfucker got murdered & we call it Good Friday. And in the same way that names matter and we should begin calling Killer Whales by their true name of Death Dolphins, we should rename Good Friday & give it some significance.

I say that the new name for it should be Murder Friday.

And to go along with the new names, a new tradition. Now, I haven't worked out all the kinks in it yet, but I think that... Once a year.... We all get together, vote for the person most likely to be the 2nd coming... And kill them. If they come back, we know we found the right guy.

Or we just get together and kill someone we don't like. Or a Flyers fan. Or just a Flyer.

Just an idea. It makes sense, right? I totally think it makes sense.

Evolution: Phase II - RTOTD #800

Day 800

I've been writing this thing again for yet another 400 days. The first 400 were FetLife exclusive, with the other 400 days as a sort-of "phase 2" which, to be honest, should have culminated in the book release as poetic justice or sometthing, but I kept going for another 100 or so days after that.

In the last few years that I've been writing this, it's gone from me just venting about something like not getting enough sleep to threatening to active subliminal suicide messages embedded in the writing, to becoming a commentator about pretty much anything in the local kink community. And then I needed a break.

I came back to this thing 400 writing-days ago with a slightly different focus. I started telling more stories. I would comment on larger issues outside of the kink world. I would occasionally bitch about something or get analytical about some of my bigger kinks. I effectively started editorializing on a larger scale, and with a signficantly larger audience.

I tried to do other things with this little corner of the intarwubz as well. Some were interesting, some were stupid, a handfull were fucking moronic, and some that were just a good goddamned time. Kinky Mad Libs, some of the stories that eventually ended up as part of "Hold My Beer & Watch This", an open forum for discussing taboo kinks, or even a few Ask Me Anything's.

All of which I did while still being absurd and amusing to all but a few idiots without a sense of humor. And those idiots just made it funnier for those of us WITH a sense of humor.

That's before I even mention my ever-present commentary on world events, local kink community bullshit, and even making the attempt to be the voice of fucking reason when some of you people lose your goddamned minds about shit and go off like crazy townspeople chasing down Frankenstein's Monster. And I still took the time to make fun of idiots, hypocrites, and the over-sensitive naval-gazing children that seem to be running rampant around here over the past few years.

And when I need to be the voice of reason on ANYTHING... well.... that should be a good indication that you all have gone off the fucking deep end. I mean, come on... I don't know the last time someone described me or anything I do as "in moderation".

I hadn't planned on doing this. I wanted to try to see if I could keep up the energy to work on the 2nd book and hit Day 1000 without a break (except for when I'm on vacation or out of town on business), but in the past week or 2, it's really been reaching that point where I just need a break.

I'm kinda tired of wracking my brain 5 days a week for the past nearly-3-years to find something to talk about. When I first started this up again, the ideas just came out every day. I could sit down and not even think at all and 1000 words came flowing right out of my fingers. Then 2000. Then 5000. Then an 80,000 word book. For the record, that's about standard novel length.

But since the new year, I've been struggling. I've been devoid of inspiration. Nothing strikes me. I don't want to just keep writing the stories only and hold nothing back to get you motherfuckers to actually buy the next book when it comes out, but at the same time, I feel like I've been only in the "book mode" for the past few months. The problem with that is that I spend so much time thinking about what I want to write for THIS thing each day that I just don't want to think anymore to start working on actually getting the stories back out of my head (and double-check some of my more fuzzy memories from them by asking friends that were there) and onto the screen.

So I've just  been feeling worn out by it. And I wanted to just take a break.

But I still couldn't. I kept going for another month or 2 and pushed thru it. I know that the quality has suffered since then. I've kinda hated just about everything that I've written this year, and judging by the lack of comments, you don't seem terribly moved by it either. Though the page hits on the blog site have been increasing every month for the past 6 and have nearly tripled since March of 2012, so you're all either getting the link from Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, or actually looking at the blog site for the full versions cause you're tired of the text-only version on Fet. But comments have dwindled to almost nothing.

And well, comments and loves are what puts the Fet version into your activity feed. It also puts it into the Friend Feed of everyone on you friends list, which then they eventually click on after seeing something different of mine getting commented on or loved by you every day, which slowly expands readership. This is kinda the basics of grassroots marketing.

Hell, 95% of the positive comments I've gotten on the book have been either in the form of private messages or in-person. And while I love those, hey guys... maybe tell OTHER people about it. I don't mean to be a dick here (or maybe I do)... but I KNOW the book was good. I wrote it. Even if I hated it after reading it through like 7 times during the writing/half-assed-self-editing-because-none-of-my-volunteer-editors-actually-edited-it-or-even-read-it process. The thing is... other people might NOT know it's good. So um... tell them? Not me?

(Oh god, kill me... I just resorted to a combination "you're doing it wrong" and self-promoting-asshattery and a request for grassroots advertising help in the same 2 paragraphs. I kinda wanna kill myself now. Sorry.)

Throw in that Fet has been a fucking ghost town for months now and I'm starting to see the tumbleweeds rolling from everyone other than the 50 Shades newbs and the asshats that feel compelled to constantly pimp their groups or events (for the record, I don't even ANNOUNCE anything. I create an event and walk away and still get 40-50 people to show up for something. Call me when you can pull that off while still being an outright dick to most people at the exact same time) or the people that do nothing but argue the administraive and protocol bullshit of different groups or Fet's Terms Of Use.

To be perfectly blunt, opening up Safari to just see that shit every time I look is just taxing. And draining. To the point that I'm not even sure if I care about cross-posting to Fet anymore. Mostly because I don't want to look at the pointless boring shit that is being posted there at this point. I just don't care.

So with all that said, I need a break. I am putting this column on indefinite hiatus. I know that I'm going to get bored soon and my brain will again start filling up with things to say and I just feel completely compelled to bring this thing back from the dead once again, but in the meantime, I need a break.

I guess 400 days is where my gas meter hits zero after all and it's time for a fill-up.

I'll still be here and I'll still be tweeting and occasionally status-updating and shit, but I'm taking a break from this one thing in particular. When the fun morning thing that you do while waking your brain up to do real work start turning into draining work before actually doing real work, it's just not worth the effort. In the meantime, I'm going to tak the time to recommit to working on the 2nd book (seriously guys, I even gave you a contest to name the next book and got exactly 1 response that wasn't even an offer for a book title. That should probably explain why I'm tired of writing this thing right now) maybe do some other minor tweaks to Hold My Beer & Watch This, and possibly work on expanding the web presence to launch an actual website with some of the better stuff there, but that still links back here for the RTOTD.

So yeah, when this comes back again, I can guarantee that I'll have changed it yet again. Because it will never remain static. Every attempt I've made it focusing this onto 1 or 2 more focused themes has been pointless. Because I'm not that focused of a person. I am random. And strange. And I do wildly unexpected shit because that's what comes natural to me. I mean... seriously. This is me we're talking about here? Or that I'm talking about.

So I'll catch you later, kids. Try to entertain yourselves without me?

Surprise - RTOTD #799.1

Day 799.1

So we have a surprise for you all that are attending the party on Saturday...

Well... 2 surprises:

Firs surprise... It's not really a surprise if you read the updated event info. It's a masquerade party. Costumes are optional.... Masks are mandatory.

Second surprise is the good one though.

We're giving you a little something different since it's Easter season fast approaching & this is the only time we'll have the chance to do something like this.

We're giving you a kinky Easter Egg Hunt!

We'll explain the rules when you get here. So try to show up at the beginning of the party or all of the eggs might already be found. Plus, I don't feel like explaining everything twice. I'm a dick like that. Some of the eggs will have candy. Some will have punishments. Some will have small presents or rewards.

See you Saturday.

Snow Day - RTOTD #799

Day 799

I miss being a kid and waking up to find out we have a snowday. Today would have likely been one of those days. As a result, I kinda want to leave work early, go home, build a snow fort, and have a snowball fight with someone. Maybe my dog. Like I would have done when it was a day like this when I was like 10.

Or maybe I'd go do what I would when I was 16 and go snowboarding. Maybe with Chloroform. If I had any.

Or maybe... just maybe... I'll hide in a snow drift tonight... outside of your house... wait until you go to sleep, and then sneek in with a knife. Right after the power has gone out from the snow on the power lines.

Because there's nothing more magical and wintery than a psychopath in your bedroom standing over you in the darkness with a knife while you're asleep, right?

Force - RTOTD #798

Day 798

So I didn't really do much while I was in Texas that's story-worthy. For the most part, I just kinda went into the office there, did all the stuff that I needed to, went back to my hotel and took a shower, hunted fuuds and then watched Netflix. To be honest, it was pretty boring.

However, I did hang out with an old friend/ex-girlfriend and her fiance while I was there. And I got substitute dogs to hang out with during my trip. The office in Houston has a "yard dog" that kinda plays guard dog. He's an old boy that you can tell is getting up in age (he's been there for as long as I can remember, and I was first at that yard 8 or 9 years ago) and was a stray that wandered in and never left because he kinda found a "home" in a scrap yard.

I also got to get my evening substitute puppy time with my old friend's dog. They have a year-old puppy that is full of energy. About the size of @Artemis_Fallen's dog. But taller and skinnier. Still all paws and legs like a lot of year-old puppies. But I'm not here to talk about the dogs. As much as it was fun to play with them.

Well, the one evening, we all went to dinner with their other roomies. I drove, like usual, mostly because my rental was the biggest of all the cars and it was easier to just take the 1. On the way, we ended up having a conversation about how much of an influence I have on people. Primarily with the girls that I have dated, and in 1 way in particular.

While we agreed that it was likely because I hadn't quite figured out my Bimboization kink nearly as much as I have at this point (which is still pretty far from fully examined), apparently for a long period of time I was subconsciously engaging in basically Forced Feminization. But Forced Feminization of women, which is a little more obscure of a kink than the more standard submissive male kink of being force feminized by a FemDom. For those readers out there that aren't as familiar with some of the kinky stuff that I write about (believe it or not, there are a lot of vanilla readers that send me e-mail asking questions about the kinkier stuff that I write) most of the time, Forced Feminization is something that I have seen associated with humiliation for submissive males. I, on the other hand, practiced virtually the same thing on girls. But not necessarily with an emphasis on the humiliation aspect, though I guess it was still there to a degree because it wasn't something they were entirely comfortable with, or else it wouldn't have been "forced".

I mean, I guess I was doing it. And I was being clear from the beginning that "this is how it was gonna be if you really have any interest in dating me". But I didn't really "name" it. I just kinda said "here's the things that I like" and then went from there.

But part of the conversation was also on the way that that impact stretched beyond the period of time that we were dating. The way that those changes that I demanded in wardrobe or how they did their makeup or whatever... the way that they stuck with the people I dated. The way that they liked the changes that I had made to the point of not only continuing to present themselves in a similar fashion, but in the way that they occasionally even continued down the same road that was not necessarily discussed but anyone with 2 firing neurons could figure out where the road led.

And after thinking about it and thinking about the other girls that I've dated that I demanded similar "changes" out of, and on occasions that I would run into them down the line at something, how often they had also kept those same "changes".

I just find it interesting. And to a degree, it's a validation of what I was doing. I hesitate to use the term "improve" when it comes to the long-term impact that I could possibly have on someones life, but in the few discussions that I had with people while we were dating, mostly to get their feedback and see if they were growing comfortable with those changes, or even in cases where I spoke to them after the fact, the general concensus was that they were happier with themselves after the fact than they were before. So hey, maybe I'll chalk it up to some positive reinforcement and being at the right place at the right time. And because I'm a complete narcissist, I kinda like that I ended up being "right" as well as finding out that I wasn't just being humored or placated while we were together if they chose to keep those changes after the fact.

Maybe it's just my thing? Find kinda hippy chicks or the types that don't put that much effort into their appearance (or those that are just a little shy and want to blend in rather than stand out) and then push them in a way to alter their appearance in a way that they likely would not have without prompting, and then doing so in a way that improves their self-esteem.

So I guess I'm doing a public service. I'm like a Life Coach... for whorification!

The Doktor: Helping Womens' Self-Esteem, One Bimbo-Building At A Time.

You can all thank me. Line forms to the left.

What's In A Name? - RTOTD #797

Day 797

Wait a second... you can now sell the naming rights to your kids on the Internet? I'd almost be willing to have a kid just to sell their naming rights! Granted, I'd hand the kid to the first stranger that passed me on the street and told them to take it because I didn't want it right after I got the check for the naming rights, but still...  This is fucking brilliant!

And before you throw a tantrum about how wrong this is, it's not like the kids get a fucking vote in their name now. The parents are picking it. If they decide to crowdsource the name and make some bank on it, is there REALLY that much wrong with it? Now if you start ending up with people selling their kids names to corporations like they were sports arenas or stadiums, well... I guess then I might see an issue with it. I mean, the Internet deciding your kid should be named "Gaia Smith" and paying you $5,000 for the privilege of picking it out is one thing. Naming your kid "1-800-FlowersDotCom Jones"  for a half million or something is entirely different.

Can I sell MY naming rights on the Internet? Cause that would be awesome. I'll go by whatever the hell these people want me to for the right price.

So here's the deal... I already let Doxie call me Joe-Joe in exchange for doing my laundry (which, let me clarify here, was NOT a 1-time thing. You want to keep calling me Joe-Joe? You gotta keep doing my laundry!)

But I think it's time you motherfuckers started paying me if you want to call me other weird names. So what do you want to call me? Put it in the comments section and I'll reply back with the price that I think it's worth for me to be inconvenienced by that name. And if you are willing to put up ENOUGH money, I might even be willing to get my name legally changed to whatever the fuck it is that you all pick. But I'm gonna want paid for going that far.

Speaking of naming things though... I'm not sure I like my originally planned name for the eventual 2nd book. I had thought that "Mostly Drunk & Always Disorderly" was a good one, but I'm not sure.

So here's a contest: Make a suggestion for a title. And if I pick yours, I'll give you a free signed copy of the 1st book in your preferred format (eBook, paperback, or hard cover) AND a free signed copy of the 2nd one (whenever I'm done with it) in your preferred format, as well as a credit for the naming.

Fuck Philly - RTOTD #796

Day 796

I hate the Flyers. And when I say that, I don't mean it in the way that I hate asparagus or that I hate traffic. Yeah, I might pitch a minor bitch about those things, but the Flyers? The Flyers make me lose my god damned mind.

There's just something about that team that just drives me up the motherfucking wall. Something about the smugness of their fans. The way that half of their fucking team looks like they're inbred cousins of each other (Tell me that Giroux, Harnell, Couterier and a few others don't all look alike) or the way that the national TV announcers verbally fellate pretty much their entire organization, it drives me up the motherfucking wall. Hey Filthy... why don't you try winning something in the last 37 years and then earn some kinda recognition. Oh what? You won a World Series? Congratulations, it's baseball. That's barely a fucking sport.

I rarely have wished injury or death on anyone, but I want that whole fucking city to burn down and for that team to die in a fiery bus accident. Fuck you, Philadelphia. Your city is a filthy, drug-infested ghetto owned by almost entirely by a price-gouging cable monopoly with shitty service. Your most famous local cultural icon is a fucking fictional character! I mean, what else do you have to say about the level of delusion that Philadelphia lives in when they have to idolize a fictional character to personify their city. That's like New York putting up a statue of Spider-Man in front of the fucking Met. Hey, he's inspiring and shit, but he's still an imaginary fucking character!

The only thing redeeming about your shithole city is Pat's Cheese Steaks. And even then, I could live with never eating another one of them if your whole city burned to the fucking ground in exchange. Hopefully, with you bitch hockey team stuck in cement in the middle of it so they can't escape. Go fuck yourselves and die.

Have a nice day. I hope your entire city steps on Legos all day long for the rest of forever.

A Short Story About Rage - RTOTD #795

Day 795

As those of you that have read my book and those of you that have read this column for a while know, I have a buddy called Rage. He moved out to Colorado a while back and I haven't seen him in a few years, but to this day, he's still one of the best friends I've ever had.

Rage got his nickname because he was that loose-cannon friend. And while some of you might refer to me as "Angry Joe", I'm just loud, abrasive, and opinionated. Rage, on the other hand, is one of those quiet guys that just explodes at times. Not because he's unable to control his anger or anything, but because he's SO in control of his anger that he is like a pot of boiling water that gets covered. Eventually, something has gotta give and he's going to explode, and when that happens, it's quite impressive. And the thing is, he's so naturally angry that those explosions can become almost predicable. You can almost tell when he's about to explode if you know him well enough and can calculate how many "anger points" he's accumulated since his last explosion. It's quite the spectacle.

Often times, I would go out of my way to push his buttons one at a time just to see how close I could get him to that glorious seething volcano of rage without it bubbling over into a Mount St. Helen's like anger explosion. It was a game and even though virtually all of my friends played it, I just played it the best. Hell, I'm planning on putting at least a few stories about doing just that in the next book.

This story however, is not one of those stories.

See, Rage is also almost as random and weird as I am. He is certainly less abrasive and belligerent in his daily behavior, but he's also a lot funnier than me. Truth be told, I was probably one of the least funny members of my group of friends up through my mid-20's. I'm not sure if that's a reflection on how funny they were, how much funnier I've become, or how un-funny my current friends are, but that's a whole other examination that I don't feel really compelled to get into today.

In other stories, I've also told you about one activity that I have always loved doing but don't get as much of a chance to do anymore. Getting in the car and getting lost. Either because of gas prices (seriously, I remember 83 cent gas in the late 90's. This "almost $4" bullshit is un-fucking-acceptable) or time or just because I now live close to the city and there's nowhere TO get lost, I just don't get the chance to do it very often. One of the reasons that I always loved getting lost was because it inevitably led to a good story for one reason or another. There's the Brownstown story. There's the "magical gateway to Indiana" story, there's the "holy shit, we got lost for like 5 hours and wound up in Canada how the fuck do we get home without going past border security wait how did we get INTO Canada without going past border security?" story and at least a dozen more.

This story stayed local. We made a turn off of Route 30 near North Huntington one evening and just started taking roads that "looked cool". Either roads we'd never been on before or just because it reminded me of some road from some movie and oh wait, that's how every horror movie starts, isn't it?

Like most of our other "driving aimlessly and hoping to get lost" stories, we were inebriated. I've told you before and I'll mention it again... I do NOT condone drunk driving or stoned driving. I do my best to avoid doing so at this point. I did however, often engage in it in my younger years and because nobody ever got hurt or died, I can joke about it now. So don't do it. You're probably not as invulnerable as I was in my youth (and still am, to this day). But once again, we were fucked up and driving around.

For the most part, the drive was uneventful. We would turn onto this road or that one and slowly get further lost into the semi-rural areas of Western PA. But because I was involved, eventually something fucking weird had to happen. And inevitably, it did.

After making a turn onto one particular street, we began driving up a hill after about 100 yards. It was fairly steep, but also crested after only about another 50 yards. It was a blind hill where you couldn't see anything past the crest until just before you reached it. And reach it we did. At about 40 mph. This wasn't that big of a problem because Rage's Explorer that he shared with his brother, PrettyBoy, was a fucking beast and weighed approximately as much as an elephant with legs made of cement. It also handled about as well. If it had been a car rather than an SUV, we would have been in the air as soon as we reached the peak of this small hill because of how quickly the road dropped off beyond that point, but thankfully we stayed on the road.

I say thankfully because I have never in my life seen anything like what we saw beyond the top of the hill.

50 feet ahead of us was a guard rail that stretched across the entire road. With a STOP sign mounted directly in the center. Beyond it, all we could see were trees.

Rage slammed on the brakes and we skidded to a stop only a few feet before the guard rail.

We were shocked. There had been no "dead end" or "no outlet" signs. There was no warning whatsoever to warn drivers of what was coming up in front of them. It was simply "road, steep fucking hill, blind drop-off and then BOOM OH HERE'S A MOTHERFUCKING GUARD RAIL!" That was it.

We needed a moment here. We were both borderline hyperventilating and it took us both a moment to catch our breath. Holy fucking sweet jumping Christ on a pogostick. There was no way that a road just ends like this, is there? Not a fucking chance.

We stepped out of the SUV and stood there for a moment before walking up to the guard rail to look over. All we could initially see was trees. Just a bunch of goddamned trees.  It was getting quite dark. Even though it was summertime, it was pushing 11:00 and we were out in the middle of fucking nowhere. The ambient light from the city barely reached out this far, but there were a few houses in the area with lights on, and the Explorer's headlights were still on, so we were able to squint over the guard rail and notice...A motherfucking cliff. I'm not just talking about a really steep hill, this was the kind that if you started falling down there was virtually no stopping you until you slammed into a tree or hit the bottom. It wasn't quite 90 degrees straight down, but it was at least 75.

Looking over this cliff for a few more moments, I began to make out more shapes and colors. I turned to Rage:

Me: "Dude, is that a car there?"

Rage: "There's at least 3 that I see"

Me: "What the fuck, man?"

Rage: WHAT THE FUCK?!"

We stood there for another moment, alternating our glances between the burned-out hulks of long-since-wrecked cars and each other. We were utterly speechless.

Rage was the first one to start looking around. I was still in shock. I've done a lot of stupid shit that's almost killed me, but this was a first. This was the first time I've almost died because of the stupidity of someone ELSE. The someone else being whatever waste of sperm that designed this road and whoever in this municipality that had decided that there shouldn't be a fuckload of clear god damnned warnings about the clusterfuck of civil engineering failures that you were about to drive into when you turned onto this road.

I turned and noticed that Rage was walking towards the closest house with lights on. The porch light and the living room lights were on, as well as the TV. I was about to say something and figure out what he was doing, about to yell out to him, when he pushed the doorbell.

Try to imagine this. 11:00 at night, in the middle of nowhere, with very few neighbors, on a dead-end street, and someone is ringing your doorbell. And then try to imagine opening it to see a short, scruffy looking young guy standing there who you've never seen before in your life.

Now imagine that the next thing this total he does is turn half-way away from you, point at the SUV parked in the middle of the street right against this random guard rail and stop sign, turn back to you with a very blank expression and his finger still pointed in the exact same position and simply yelling, not asking, but yelling "WHAT THE FUCK?!?!"

The guy almost fell over laughing after his initial split-second of shock passed. And I just almost died from oxygen deprivation from my hysterical fits while still standing in the road.

RandomGuy: "HAHAHAHAH!!"

Rage: "NO, REALLY, WHAT THE FUCK!"

RandomGuy: "HAHAHAHAHAHA"

Rage: "SERIOUSLY MAN! WHAT THE FUCK!"

RandomGuy: [He's not even making audible noises at this point, he's doubled over in his front door hyperventilating from laughing so hard]

Rage: "SWEET CHRIST MAN! WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT? CAN'T THEY PUT UP A FUCKING WARNING SIGN OR SOME SHIT?"

Rage waited for the guy to regain his composure. He said some other things that I don't really remember because I was still 100 feet away and he was no longer yelling, but after the neighbor managed to stifle down a few more chuckles, he gave Rage some sort of explanation. Rage was not satisfied. He also knew that talking to the neighbor was no long going to be helpful either and without another word, he just turned and walked back to the car. No "thank you". No "sorry to disturb you". Nothing. Just turned and walked away.

I was standing next to the passenger door waiting for him to come back over before getting in. He reached the car, turned back to look at the guard rail again and looked at me again. With the most serious expression I had ever seen before, he looked at me and said "I hope that whoever planned this gets hit by a meteor" and got back into the car.

I think I might have laughed hard enough to let out a little bit of pee before I even got back in the car.

Because I Needed A Good Rant - RTOTD #794

Day 794

So... is there a way that we can just kind of eliminate French Canadians?

I mean, Montreal girls are hot and all, but really... it's like a combination of the 2 most annoying groups on the planet. 

First of all, you've got the Canadian part with their bullshit haughty "oh, we're so much better than America because we don't have the crime and look at our socialized medicine and legal pot in some places, who cares about gay marriage?" attitude while suckling the American teat of defensive perimeter, major scientific research, and lack of fucking people (seriously, all of Canada has less people than California alone). I mean, thanks for making hockey popular and giving us some great players. But fuck you Canada, you haven't yet thanked Pittsburghers for inventing indoor ice or professional hockey, because fuck you we did it first while you were still sliding around on backyard ponds for free and falling through cracks in the ice. Morally superior smug assholes. We should have just made you colonies when the English offered us to you as well as the other 13 after the Revolutionary War. You're welcome for your pseudo-independence. Even if you still have another country's monarchy on  your money. What's your Prime Minister's job again? Learn to pronounce the letter O, you hoser.  And bring me a motherfucking moose!

And then to make it worse, you've got the French... and well, do I really need to explain why FUCK YOU, FRANCE! is pretty much the perfect response to anything about the French? Oh, let me guess, you weren't listening because you were too busy covering your garlic and body odor smell with shitty perfume on even men, while making love to your own faces and pretending you're better than everyone else, right, you wine-swilling cheese-eating surrender monkey?  And thanks for Vietnam, you cowards. Hey, do we all know the first rule of French warfare? You only win when you don't have a Frenchman commanding you. Wanna know the second? Let the Americans handle it. The only warriors you have that you can be proud of is the Foreign Legion. And none of them are actually Frenchmen! Hey Pepe Le Pew, why don't you tell your women to go shave and maybe then learn some German for the next time around, cause we know you pussies aren't gonna be fighting and we know that your Eastern neighbors like your vineyards or something, cause they keep coming to visit and not leave whenever they get too bored. The most fight you'd see out of a Frenchman would be if they cancelled Fashion Week in Paris. They'd throw down their Berets and stomp out with their nose high in the air, mostly so they can't smell themselves, and then go eat some horse meat. Frog. SPEAK THROUGH YOUR MOUTH! We can't understand you when you're talking out of your nose like usual, Claude.

So yeah... the 2 most obnoxious groups of people on the planet and we decided to let them breed? Fuck, why didn't we throw in the radical queer Marxist feminists too and really make it a party?

"Come one, come all, and see the most annoying show on earth! They'll talk down to you! They'll mumble in a foreign language! They'll make constant and ever-increasing ridiculous and contradictory demands, while being hypocritical and throwing a tantrum when they don't get their way. Like children. While smoking and not bathing or grooming and using made up words or words that don't make any sense with their actual definition in the English language! It's a show that you can't dare miss! You'll never ever see someone as morally superior and haughty in your life!"

I mean... hey... they only good thing that ever came out of that menagerie of atrociousness was Mario Lemieux, and he doesn't even live in fucking Canada anymore.

So how about this... we'll take all those hot girl that drive buses and mop floors and strip and hook from Montreal (seriously, it's like this weird hotbed of hot girls. And slutty hot girls, too! So many so that they're even doing menial jobs that no hot American girl would do) and spend a lot of time and money to wipe away that fucking nasal accent. Hell, I'll settle for Jenny & Cathy Poussin alone. And then we can just wipe the rest of you off the map, ok Jacques? Can we localize a zombie apocalypse in just Quebec and then find a way to keep it from spreading outside of there? Then at least we can get some good reality TV out of watching the few Frenchmen that aren't total pansies try to fight for survival. As long as the zombie isn't named Klaus. Because if that's the case, the only fight will be to see how quickly he can pull that white surrender flag out of his back pocket. Hey Pierre, zombies don't actually accept surrender!

I have no idea what prompted this, but just kinda couldn't hold it in. But hey... I was bored and I haven't gone on a good rant about any particular group of people in a while. So enjoy.

Because You Demanded It - RTOTD #793

Day 793

So I've decided to let my hair grow again. I'm kinda getting that itch to have long hair again. I know a number of you ladies are already squeeing "yay!" in anticipation. You've been asking me for like 2 years now when I was going to let it grow back. Now you have an answer.

Just figured I should let you know. Give you something to be excited for on an otherwise dreary day. Well, in another year or 2 when it's down past my shoulders again and you're always asking if you can play with it.

You're welcome.

But I think it's also time that the beard becomes less... fuzzy.

And yes, I'm still suffering some severe writers block/lack of motivation on pretty much any topic. Hence, you're being subjected to me rambling about changes to my personal grooming.

Oh... and thanks to those of you that came out for HATE Weekend. This might just have to become the new standard practice. With us turning it into a weekend-long event instead of just a simple party. I'm kinda loving the HATE theme, but we need to see more hate at HATE.

To be honest, I might want to consider doing something slightly even bigger with HATE next year, and I kinda want some opinions and input on it, as well as checking the interest level.

So here's kinda my basic "I just came up with this and haven't fleshed out a single detail  yet" outline for the future of HATE. I kinda want to make it into a thing. Not just a house play party. I'm thinking at a venue. I know a couple venue owners/managers that might be open to the idea, but I haven't approached them yet.

I also know and know of a handful of DJs and bands that might be interested as well. But again, I haven't talked to them.

I was thinking a 2-night thing with an option for something during the day. I don't know yet what the something should be though. The thing is, if it's an event at a place with things and entertainment, it might need to turn into a "pay for it" event instead of a "help me keep my liquor cabinet and beer fridge stocked so bring booze or snacks" event. And I don't know if that'll turn people off from it or not.

As for what to do during the day... that's where I'm really fucking stuck. Classes are... meh. Every event has classes to some degree, I guess. But unless they're limited to some niche serious-pain-inflicting thing, I think classes for a thing like HATE might be kinda fucking dumb. I also know that some of my ideas for other types of classes that are more like panel discussions and Q&A stuff for artists/musicians/artisans/etc doesn't fit the theme either. At all. That's something I want to do for some other kind of thing that's more geared towards a mix of Comic-Con meets Shibaricon, only on like 1/10 the scale. If even that.

Maybe just classes on how to go full-on psychological warfare mode on your play partner might be fitting for something like HATE? Or nothing but really sadistic shit? Topics that scream "I kinda might wanna kill you right now" because we all have that line between love/hate with our significant others and it could be an excuse to let out some of that pent up aggression.

I don't know. I'm just throwing shit at the wall right now and seeing if anything sticks. I don't even know how committed I am to even doing that. I guess that depends on response though.

My normal philosophy when it comes to throwing any sort of party is to just throw the party that I want to attend and fuck everyone elses opinions. And it's worked out pretty well so far, right? Other than idiots that somtimes hit other peoples cars. But that's only been twice and thankfully, nothing fucked up (that I know about) happened on Friday. But for some reason, with this one... I just can't quite figure out what it's missing. I know there's a missing element here, but I just don't know what it is. So that's my question for you...

What would a HATE theme event be in your head? What would it look like? What is missing that takes it into some next-level shit territory besides the obvious? What is something that you've seen at something else that just screams to you "hey, we should do this at a HATE party"?

So yeah... that's all I got today. Back to the word mines. I am making virtually zero progress on the 2nd book right now. I have the stories that I want to tell in it... well, most of them anyway... but I'm just not really getting in that zone for writing that makes the words flow and the jokes work just right.

Maybe I'm just lacking the ability to really engage my brain box entirely right now. It would explain why I can't figure out what the fuck the daytime portion of a HATE event would look like as well as my pseudo-writersblock all at once. Fuck it. I'm gonna go read a book or something. Or maybe even actually do work... at work.