Well, i figure it's time to announce to the rest of the world. I proposed to my girl, she's accepted. I've officially thrown away my man card now and will soon join the rest of my shackled brothers in captivity.

I have come out of posting retirement to propose the following "political campaign"

1. Open up your word processor
2. Select the largest size font possible
3. bold the font.
4. Type out a document that says this and only this "Are you fucking stupid?" as big as you can get it on a single piece of paper.
5. Mail at least 1 copy to every member of the fed that just approved the interest rate drop.

A: "I want to be so rich that it borders on obscene."

B: "Why? Why not just be comforatably rich."

A: "Cause I want ping-pong balls man. sexy sexy luscious ping pong balls"

B: "What?"

A:"Ping Pong Balls."

B:"O.K."

A:"You can never have enough ping pong balls."

*Minute and a half of silence*

A:"Need a lot of KY Though."

*Silence for the rest of a 30 minute drive...*

My distaste for all things "poetry" has increased sevenfold today. Poetry in the form of... well, poems.

The ones that rhyme like some sort of childrens fable piss me off the most, especially when they contain phrases like "The heart is my target and I will strike it hard".

...

HULK SMASH

...

If anything was going to get my gnarly green blood going and my irrepressable desire to break things and hurt people brought to a homicidal peak, crappy, shitty, fucked up poetry would be on the top of that list. K.D. Lang would probably be in second place, closely followed by that bald headed interior designer on TLC... Man, I hope a staplegun falls on his shiney bald head one day and riddles his brainpan with ten-penny holes.

They only thing that should be "struck hard" is the authors head, Preferably with hardwood lumber swung by a major league baseball player on national television. I'd fucking stand and place my hand over my heart for THAT.

My mind burns with BULLSHIT, it is unsatisfied with the state of peoples exhubrant shit spewing from orifices in their face that, on a normal human being, not be used to ejaculate shit upon the undeserving populace of this earth.

To all you fucking bastards out there who insist on being "deep" with only the glimmering of an education in that thick head of yours, I open my asscheeks upon you and yours and fart in your worthless fucking general direction.

Love, kisses and tender moments
George.

I remain strong for you

That's right my hordlings, for you do I remain all stoic and strong-like. Though I'm having a shitty morning. Y'see, I decided that it would be a great idea to take the last 10 or so steps on my face this morning. Nothing like going down a concrete staircase on your face... I know that goddamned squirell is somehow responsable for this. I fucking KNOW IT. Not really all that worse for the wear though... I have red patches on my hands that are the result of the skid at the bottom and my nose bled a little bit. BECAUSE I AM MIGHTY MANLY GODKING!... or I'm just naturally padded... on of the two. Was running a bit late for work so no chance to stop for some grub this morning... not even the shitty "breakfast" burrito at the Kwik King (3.99 for... something I can't really describe)

But! on the bright side, WW3 is kicking off, and while some of you might not consider that to be a particularily "Bright" side thing... just think of the luminescent output of nuclear warheads should they be deployed... woohoo!

Fuck I need food before my stomach eats it's way through my torso and attacks a random passerby.

There I was just minding my own business, casually walking down to the car to go to work this morning.

And then I saw HIM Baron Von Death Squirell. His beady little eyes locked onto mine and we stared at each other, my hand inching towards my pistol, his fuzzy little tail of doom twitching every so often. Someone's gonna die here today, Oh yes, someone's gonna fucking DIE!

And then it happened, I could almost hear his chirring maniacal laughter in my head as he popped up... gave me a cold stare that sent chills down my spine and bounded off for his treetop empire before I could do a thing.

NEXT TIME SQUIRELL! NEXT TIME.


The non-dramaticized and factually true version is more like this.
I saw the squirell, I froze. My mind is racing (oh, fuck I'm gonna be atacked by the crazy rodent again). He looks at me and runs off, I heave a sigh of relief... because you know... that squirell fucking owns my ass.

I met a furry little airborne ranger today; death from above and all that; screaming chirring furry rage from on high. Evidently I transgressed in passing underneath the sovereign territory of Frederick The II Butcher of Squirelldom's domain on the way to my car this morning and he sent his little death dealing demon from hell to deal with the intruder.

The fuzzy monster from the polloped bowels of hell landed on my head, did a six pence dance, raced down my neck and back, wound around my feet a couple of times and then raced back up a tree, never to be seen again. Though I'm sure he's plotting my demise for the next time I walk underneath his domain.

Naturally, I, the urban silverback himself, acted like a scarred little girl and did the "AHHHHH icky achy" thing and did a little dance that resembled a mash up of the "I gotta pee" dance, and some other full body seizure of unnamed flavor.

And that was this morning...

As to the fourth I lit up the night sky (and the field, and left a crater) with a meager assortment of fireworks that I purchased with scrounged money. While the assortment itself was, like I said, meager, the four good resultant explosions I was able to produce where... fun. Not going into detail, my ingenious use of empty paper towel tubes, toilet wax, and not a little craftiness in the cannibalization of the available resources I was able to produce four fireworks that where of a dubious nature.

The first and second one produced wonderfully loud booms, the third one I must have packed wrong and it set the surrounding area on fire after leaving a crater, the fourth one was also packed wrong and launched itself into the sky with no explosion, just a trail of fire.... Good times.

Also went down to Rainbow springs to go swimming. The water was great, as usual. Took a picture of the waterfall with the camera phone... which isn't exactly the best picture ever taken but it gives you a sense of the surrounding area. My boy is the one on the right, the one on the left is his friend... our neighbor’s kid, and with this picture I do leave you now.

Bloody Phone Numbers

Ladies and Gents, I need your phone numbers ONCE AGAIN, why? because the brand spanking new phone that they sent me as a replacement for my other new phone isn't recognized by motorolla phone tools, so my backup of my phone numbers is ... worthless.

Please, if you can, send me an email with your first & last name with your px# and if it's your cell work or home number (include all the ones you want me to have) thanks.

Poll #753840 My Penis
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All

My (harold3's) penis...

I've been reading about some funerals latley, and I've decided to write out some of my wishes.

First of all, I don't want to be cremated if at all possible... Just not my bag, however IF I must be cremated I want someone to put in a bag of marshmallows a pointy stick and a pack of kosher hot dogs (preferably hebrew national dinner franks, not for any religous reason, but because I like how they taste). (Hey, if I'm gonna burn I need a snack)

NOW, assuming I'm not cremated my first preference is to be buried at sea, tie a weight to my foot and drop me off somewhere in the deep. Make sure to rub me in bacon fat first though, that way it'll attract the biger carnivorous fish faster, think of my body as one large T.V. dinner for jaws.

If I can't be buried at sea, I'd preffer for my grave to be unmarked. It might be cool to be tossed down a piling during construction or something. Worse comes to worse donate my body to whomever is seeking bodies for hire. Stuff my corpse and put me on display at the smithonian or something. Make sure I'm naked though 'cause now that I'm alive if I run around naked I'll get put in jail for indecency, but when I'm dead and the product of a taxidermist's loving craft, my clothing free wang will be ART! People will rub it for good luck until my wang will be all smooth bright and shiney.... and seriously, people rubbing my wang well after I'm dead causes me to smile, maybe the taxedermist will even install a soap dispenser in it. Bukakke for hygene from beyond the grave!

Seriously though, be irreverant, do something oddball... hell stick a sign in my ass that says "Next Stop: Hell" and bury me in an asbestos suit. Dress me up as bobo the clown, set me up for photo ops on a park bench somewhere... but don't get all morbid and crying like.

I'm not some depressed kid thinking no one will miss me when I'm gone, I understand that one or two people might be all depressed and sad for a bit. I'm also aware that one or two people might dance an irish jig and declare that day a national holiday... but I digress. What I'm saying is that when I'm dead, have fun with it. Otherwise I'll be bored.... stiff.

The act of trusting another human being is an act of faith, not an act of reason. There is no human being on this planet that could be considered trustworthy by another if reason entered into the equation as is often claimed. Humans are unable to sense or otherwise determine the true motives and beliefs of another human being, therefore they posses insufficient evidence to make a reasoned judgement as to the trustworthiness of another. This does not, of course, preclude the act of faith; and indeed trust is all the more powerful and personal because it is (and can only be) based on faith alone. Those that believe their trust is based on logic and reason are deluded, oft to their own detrement, regardless of their claims otherwise. Unless, of course, these individuals have supernatural abilities beyond the normal ken of their fellow humans that allow them the insight and access to hard and indisputable evidence, at which point have they not evolved beyond humanity and therefore are no longer subject to this rule?

Delusions one might have that they believe to be rooted in indisputable and concrete fact are the most dangerous delusions that one could have, especially if the supposed evidence is not truly rooted in fact, but is rooted simply in emotion and intuition. Emotion and intuition serve humanity well, but mark me well on this, emotion and intuition are also the very building blocks upon which the most heinous evils and wrongs humanity has committed and has been the victim of are based upon.

While it would not do, nor is it advisable, for humanity to abandon emotional responses and reasoning (nor would it be possible short of major genetic tampering, and indeed maybe not even then.). It would go well for one to remember that their "gut instinct" is a dangerous and powerful thing that should be heeded only with careful examination, and with the understanding that it, and by extension you, can and will be wrong.

You want some goods? I got some goods. *Flips open trench coat* check out
these goods.

And in other news,not so large albino bald cincilas kidnap software engineer
and form a cult with him as their deity. Their spokesman was credit as
saying, and I quote "Squeek chir hisss hisss hisss" wich our resident
greenpeace activist/animal friend/translator has interpreted as "Die
inferior human parasites. The legion of fur shall have it's vengence upon
you! Our general, mother earth has devised a cunning yet animal friendly way
to dispose of your mongrel dog race."

This just in, greenpeace activist/animal friend/translator for a local news
network has been arrested for eating too many of ma mary jane's special
brownies.

Back to you bob.

And that is how it is, some fucked up shit.
*Snap Beeeoooooooooooooooooooppp!!!