Pointing at a person to get their attention, then motioning a thumbs down.
Do males ever sing like men anymore.
Guy who attends live music events with the only intention of foraging the crowd for someone more desperate than him to fuck.
Alternate reality where the palpable insecurity generated from women traveling in large groups is harvested for energy causing nuclear power to be obsolete.
Met a beverly hills hairdresser who smokes speed and takes 15-20 cum loads in his ass but only does it in moderation, like, one weekend every three months or so. He had a small dog named wilma and pectoral implants.
Treating someone like a pariah for having slightly less socially acceptable physical attributes than yourself.
Steve 'crumb czar' Roggenbuck's checklist before disfriending someone on Facebook.
- Is this person currently making a revolving donation.
- Has this person donated money in the past.
- Could this person donate money in the future.
- Did this person fail to donate money after a verbal commitment.
- Does this person have influential/wealthy friends.
- Does this person have influential/wealthy parents.
- Does this person have a beneficial skill set which can be leveraged currently/in the future.
- Will this person cause drama over disfriending and detract from my precious brand.
- Does this person have 'material wealth' that can be leveraged.
- Does this person hold a high position of power in a corporation.
- Is this person vegan.
- Is this person straight edge.
- Is this person involved in a large charity.
- Is this person a sycophant.
- Is this person associated with a media outlet, publisher or popular lit journal.
- Is this person an author, musician, artist or politician.
- Is this person subjectively comely.
- Do they like me?
Read some shit earlier today that resulted in lava strength hatred towards a large group of human beings. Like, mount st. helens intensity.
As someone who's lived on a curb, slept on a couch for 10 years, shoplifted diapers, formula and grapes from corporate-owned markets, worked soul-sucking jobs like 'graveyard janitor' and 'newspaper delivery boy with a suspended driver's license' and 'telemarketer calling from a windowless room furnished with only a 25-watt lamp, plastic picnic table and a telephone' and 'guy making minimum wage to grind very small iron springs in a revolving swiss cheese cylinder who will later sneeze and cough metallic shavings from his sinus cavity for hours at home', commuted on public transportation 6-hours a day, hiked a mile through 4am swampland in sandals and shorts, bicycled on the freeway during torrential rainfall, walked 10+ miles rather than trouble someone for a ride to work/not work, raised a child who's been ran over by a dump truck and lived, been afflicted by life-long illness that's caused statutory blindness, loss of hearing, loss of mobility, decreased cognitive function, crushing anxiety/depression and unending physical pain, I think it's fucking pathetic for someone to start a 'charity' campaign--via a website designed to profit off of begging--exploiting their baby's previous/expired hardship as a vehicle to beg for thousands of dollars to (allegedly) pay off old medical bills--which, if not paid will result in debt collectors calling once daily; oh no!--instead of selling off their insanely expensive MacBooks and/or getting a first/second/third job.
Hey! Hey! Skinny-fat crybabies in their twenties and greedy forever-titty-nursing limp-wrists in their thirties: it's okay to suffer, it's okay to achieve something on your own even if failure replaces your original goal, it's okay to go without internet, it's okay to have the electricity shut off from non-payment, it's okay to not whine about student loans as if they're debt owed to a mob bookie, it's okay to be the opposite of a little bitch that runs to others whenever life gets inconvenient, it's okay to have self-respect, you shameful pools of fermenting vomit, you're whole-heartedly disgusting.
I don't understand the current culture of crumb snatching. Like, don't you people feel gross doing what you're doing. Doesn't that shit haunt you.
Hell is a locked room wallpapered with televisions playing every fandango commercial on repeat.
Alternate reality where Anheuser-Busch monopolizes the hispanic market after releasing gatorade flavored budweiser.
Waiting for an elevator to arrive while staring at your feet and momentarily glancing up to see a 10-year-old dressed like an off-duty stripper with booty shorts so tight that the crotch resembles a crawdad pincer wrapped in static cling then thinking 'television is harmless.'
Insult for a balding white guy dressed in an unbuttoned blazer with a tshirt underneath and designer jeans: bruhhhh, do you even CEO?
Suburbia: erecting a basketball hoop in your driveway with the intention of never using it because your neighbor installed one last week and you've felt inadequate since.
Moment of strength defined by not bursting into clown laughter while listening to a plastic surgeon praise a 22-year-old girl with a sutured forehead and unblinking doll eyes for her bravery and triumph.
Beverly Hills: the comedy.
Nothing enriches your hatred for the human race like witnessing an almost completely unsupervised asshole toddler dressed in designer apparel costing more than your entire wardrobe, tripled.
Imagining most of the males you meet with a large ring of confectioner's sugar around their mouth as if they've been sucking on doughnut holes for dear life.
Esoteric hobby consisting of staring at the ceiling while listening to Johnny Paycheck on a barely working record player.
In a world gone seemingly 'wild', where insects constantly harvest crumbs and solitude is outlawed, one man-boy is humanity's lone hope against bitchmade living. Trained in the martial arts of thumbjitsu and who is you-fu, he walks the streets with a homemade weapon, smiting chill narcissists in the face. For me, for you, for our future children. His name is Baby J and he carries a Liberty Stick.
Resume describing abstract destinations that have allowed you to survive reality.
Esoteric hobby consisting of sneaking into various high school proms and shit talking the king and queen until they cry.
Reality tv show consisting of me visiting various wine tasting events while high on a moderate amount of lsd.
Cheeseburger: the cologne.
Working the least difficult position in a restaurant and being unable to act cordially or even smile during the 12 seconds of customer interaction your job requires.
Vivaldi is for chumps.
Poetry book consisting of negative yelp reviews from defunct los angeles restaurants.
Wrote my first yelp review today and consequently feel like my soul's been penetrated against its will by one of those supervillain drills that can bore to the center of the earth.
Shallow socialization and maintaining a no-opinion attitude seem to be the most important traits for an employee to have now, efficiency and work ethic are almost extinct.
I feel strongly alienated while in the company of grown-ass men and women still living with their parents and/or receiving a monthly stipend.
A hard indicator you're living a cream cheese dream is not riding public transportation during adulthood.
Perceiving your body as an enemy and doctors its militia is the best way to mitigate insanity/giving up.
National Geographic documentary on the most pathetic creature in the world, the high school football coach.
People who fail to acknowledge the human being behind the entertainer for $1000, Alex.
People who treat a tip jar like it's a garbage can for the horribly inconvenient change they don't want to carry around are glib cunts.
Pick-up line consisting of me making an 'okay' sign with my hand and pointing the index finger of my other hand very close to your pussy, then exclaiming in a terrible italian-american accent, 'now, that's a spicy meatball!'
Sweet spot found 4-6 days after showering where the natural oil of my hair mixes with the grit of the los angeles smog providing greasy locks like jean claude in hard target.
If you feel any affinity towards the show rug rats, we definitely shouldn't be within proximity of each other.
Started writing a eulogy for my terminally-ill friend, imagination.
A strong sign the world has gone to pig shit is witnessing a young hispanic couple sharing a plate of fajitas at a 24/hr cafe.
Deep, rolling chuckle proceeding a police officer's advice to 'just walk away' during an unprovoked altercation as if a cop has ever backed down from the slightest provocation like an errant stare from a cross-eyed alzheimer's patient wearing mismatched flip-flops and a piss plumped diaper who's standing outside a CVS and reciting the pledge of allegiance to a redbox kiosk.
Mistook an uprooted palm tree for the vertebrae of a dragon, felt double sorrow after realizing I was wrong and missed another fortuitous encounter of being crushed to death.
Guy wearing an off-black baseball cap turned backwards and holding a duffel bag in each hand selling pairs of mismatched tube socks, charlie brown lanyards and a lone unmarked super nintendo cartridge for $1 each.
Greeting card with the words 'YOU'RE MY FAVORITE...' written in large block font on the cover and a hand drawn sad faced turd on the inside.
Big love and shout out to my little bro, ryen 'big cheyenne' betzhold, for winning his first amateur mma fight by way of opponent destruction. Contact your financial adviser and plan for a broken future before fuckin' with the eagle empire. We sleep on floors and eat from garbage cans. Ya hurd.
Every time I hear ODB yell BROOKLYN! in a song, I hang my head and feel a stale sadness wash over me. It's fortunate he died when he did.
C'mon dudes, just ask the girl if she's down to fuck and save us from your protracted essay filled with faux critical analysis and contrived allusions of literary/philosophy greats<-->her new book. Like, from the heartspace, stop being a pussy and stop wasting my/our time. -->
Certificate of achievement and complimentary gift card for not dismantling someone's existence after hearing them say the detrimentally egotistical phrase, 'if you don't have anything positive to say, then don't say anything at all.'
Another valid reason to intensely hate america is the upcoming kickboxer reboot, starring a canadian roid-bitch nicknamed g.s.p--or, really, just 'reboots'.
Pick-up line consisting of me turning to you and asking, hey, lady, do spiders poop?
Losing your virginity to a gwen stefani song seems like the worst reality possible.
Seems odd national 'rape a family member' day hasn't been declared yet.
Eat rain until you drown.
Sternly believe 'compassion' is a dishonest form of selfishness and any person espousing it does so for self-serving benefits, as if abstaining from purchasing/consuming slaughtered animal products and fronting like that made the world a 'better' place or donating to an organization that--allegedly--will use a portion of the monies to ambiguously help a cause with no actual results seen, known or experienced, is anything but a smarmy way of placating guilt from an acknowledged, unethical exploitation and being too lazy/uncaring/unresolved to effectively do anything about it.
Alternative reality where a person, regardless of gender, age or handicap, is publicly euthanized for wearing a cap/hat displaying the phrase 'SPIRITUAL GANGSTER'.
Pick-up line where you write 'deserving' with mauve lipstick across your breasts then kneel behind an alley dumpster.
Taco stand with a handwritten sign that says FREE PICKLES.
Just realized nearly every interaction I've had with a cop there's been an outstanding warrant for my arrest.
'PIG NIPPLES' as a term of endearment for a relationship partner.
Bizarre german porno consisting of a man in a purple zorro cape throat fucking CEO's with an average-sized penis that has a down-facing thumb protrusion at the tip of its dickhead.
That shit where the metaphysical you is falling down an unending black pit during casual human interaction.
What's your favorite Cynthia Rothrock movie.
Pink July is officially over. God bless big/curvy/obese women with small/medium/large/asymmetrical breasts and cute/plain/beautiful/questionable faces. Each--and every!--one of you is just as valuable as an object as any other woman. It's all soft and pink on the inside. And, as my pal swears by, y'all suck dick like it's meaningful. Please remember and be empowered.*
Now back to the aggressive/doomed/alienating/deviant blogging that all four of you frequent weak-signal to read.
*statement does not apply to ex-wives or previous/current meth-addicted neighbors.
I'll be doing a book signing in skid row next thursday, outside the golden dolphin, 7:30pm. Make sure to bring your ipad or camera. There will be a ton of photo opportunities. Thanks for being a fan.
I google search my name once every three to six months. It's not a premeditated thing. Just something I spontaneously remember to do during times of depression or hopelessness, mostly. Usually, I don't find anything noteworthy. Sometimes, though, I'll discover a blog page, tweet or whatever mentioning my name. Almost always, it's a person passive-aggressively shit talking me. Which always makes me laugh, in a good way.
Today, I found this and feel completely validated in my existence:
Reaching a saturation point where emptiness is the only music worth listening to.
When a fight commentator with no credentials, knowledge or real opinion about the sport s/he's commenting on declares a fighter being 'one of the best'.
Pick-up line consisting of holding someone down against their will and shaving them bald.
Thoroughly enjoy when female mma fighter's have cute nicknames like 'jellybean' and 'cheesecake'.
Stereotype consisting of goofy, sheltered girls who reference the successful/famous musician married to their mother as 'dad'.
A reality where male frumps exist.
Insult for a privileged twenty-something that never stops complaining about being crushed by such a hard existence despite a complete void of struggle in their life: I bet you own the entire 'dave's world' series on blu-ray, huh?.
Ranking system for middle-class dads based on 'chill factor'.
There's a lot of people in the world today that need to be punched in the face, just once.
Pick-up line consisting of telling someone 'lady, you sure are beautiful! let's leave right now, get married and love each other forever. But first, I gotta stop by my storage space and defrost the deep freezer. It won't take long. Promise.'
I like how author readings have progressed to bar mitzvahs.
Visualizing insect mandibles on the faces of most everyone I interact with.
This is a parable about not being a bitchmade crumb thief.
Playing marco-polo in an abandoned warehouse that miraculously has working light fixtures with a shotgun and your ex-wife.
Never knowing and always knowing are near identical perspectives.
Getting blown and having a dog spontaneously lick the ball of the foot you're dangling off the bed and really enjoying that moment, maybe more than the subsequent ejaculation.
There's never a roadside manure and/or magic carpet salesman when you need one.
13minute avant garde film consisting of a black and white continuous shot of a midget in peril.
Force feeding someone multiple shots of wheat grass, then throat fucking them until they vomit.
Mentally screaming PUNCH IT! while passing somebody on the street, then envisioning your fist exploding their face like watermelon and gallagher's mallet.
No orgasm can trump the feeling gained from manufacturing your first successful hobo stove.
Yearbook picture consisting of a naked asshole puckering out a near perfect smoke ring.
Graduating in the year of chilling loneliness and voted 'most likely to be a larger asshole than s/he currently is.'
Feelings as achievements.
Only you can hate yourself more than you.
I'm a sucker for a sugarbird with a bob cut and a choker necklace For the past 2 months, been trying to find a thick gal for pink july who meets that criteria and have failed. If you know of any pics or would like to model, email me at email@example.com.
Life like a sleep-deprived midget running a marathon through the streets of a walmart parking lot.
Becoming a millionaire by selling signs for the home that say WARNING! BITCH DOG.
The sudden, alienating guffaw that proceeds a salesperson's smarmy declaration of 'this >OBJECT< is our most popular.'
A person soliciting an opinion is almost certainly motivated by ambiguity and lacks any genuine desire for understanding.
First date consisting of us inhaling whippets while watching episodes of THE WIZARD.
Overhead shot of a naked baby sleeping in a spoon that's being cooked by a lighter.
Depression like tetris blocks falling from the sky and stacking on top of your skull.