They just don't engineer microwave burritos like they used to.
The only law is black tiger law.
Today's armpits: curried piss diaper.
The soundtrack to my mind is mickey avalon's 'waiting to die' on repeat.
Discerning which celebrity a person could be before determining an appropriate level of excitement.
Shout out to my schizophrenic uncle--deceased--who, despite an inability to believe in 'normal' reality, was always able to survive on the streets, by himself.
How often do you send/receive dick pics?
Dollar Tree ad that says ITEM OF THE WEEK with clip art underneath of a thumbs down.
Genuine laughter that follows after seeing a picture of some college kid being 'rebellious'.
Seeing pairs of men dressed nearly identical and being grateful there's a moderate chance I might die in the near future.
A huge reason contemporary action and horror films are more boring than jane austen's masturbation fantasies is the absence of good ol' fashioned shit talking.
Road House is a near perfect movie.
The expression of joyful crying is pathetic, ugly, bizarre and terrifying, all at once.
yo fuck you and your "women are weak because they're taught," shitbag. women live in a misogynist society every single fucking day, which isn't fucking weak to me, and they dont seem preoccupied with whether or not YOU, not a woman, understands that they arent weak, fucking "love" for women fuck off
Yo, take your narcissistic rage elsewhere, ya dig? Or, actually, I don't really care. You can be upset over a misconstrued answer. It's okay. I'll be whatever nailed jesus you want me to be. But, in the future, if you want an elucidation on anything, feel free to ask. You can even do so in a mean/hostile tone.
Heck, I want to elaborate anyways but feel like you're just looking to play fight. Which is cool. I like fighting too. But only when I feel there's some substance behind it.
What I will address from your knee-jerking aggression is the misnomer that we somehow live in a horribly misogynistic society. Like, I don't necessarily blame you for misunderstanding what misogyny--or, really, hatred--is since corporate ad slogans and reality television have destroyed the strength of language but, like, the fact that you're here calling me a shitbag is a huge clue we aren't living in a world of female hatred. Or that Ronda Rousey is an UFC champion and more popular than nearly all male fighters, ever. Or that Hillary Clinton holds a high position of power in the white house and looks to seek presidency. Or etc. etc.
Pakistan, yemen and iraqi kurdistant would be misogynistic societies. And they're disgusting.
Previously, our country has been inconceivably shitty towards women. We are currently progressing out of that period. Which means, oppression still exists, very much, and there are pockets of blatant misogyny, but our society, as a whole, is not hateful towards women.
And, call me sassy, but I think using the leverage you have--as a woman in the 21st century--to fight those pockets of genuine misogyny, rather than run around the internet/life with a chip on your shoulder looking to nitpick fights wherever you feel your gender (you) has been slightly belittled would be more beneficial for women as a whole.
Meaning, step into an arena where an actual danger to your safety exists; the opposite of the confines of a north american home where it's very easy to misunderstand the distinction between inherent weakness and embracing the slave master's collar.
But, yeah, grrrrrrr to you too.
Wearing a compassionate tshirt that says TRIGGER WARNING so all the insecure pussies of society can avoid your existence.
Anybody seen ritchie?
Pick-up line consisting of rubbing your chest with a hand while silently staring at someone as if you're about to methodically dig each of their organs out with a dull butcher's knife.
Pick-up line consisting of a disapproving half-smirk, lightly shaking the head 'no' and saying, 'I don't like you.'
Xylophone constructed from the ribs and femurs of vanquished enemies and played as a war chant before embarking on amatory expeditions.
Starting each morning by kneeling next to the bed, clasping hands together and loudly praying for the death of at least one cop.
Incorporating the phrase 'well, if that ain't a turd floating in a bowl of milk!' into your vernacular but using it at entirely inappropriate times, like, when meeting a new born nephew or expressing excitement after a sexual partner disrobes.
Visualized a very large samoan man in a sleeveless muumuu hitting a golf ball off a tee and directly into my face while making a purchase at a big 5 today.
Postcard with a wide-angle shot on the front of a sun setting behind a garbage bag pyramid and the words 'wish you were here' on the back.
Sad poem called 'Sleep is hard and there's nobody here to suck on my dick.'
I'm hoping karma wakes from her slumber
and has a dump truck materialize
in the open sky
above that slag's head.
romance is for morons
even mall diamonds live forever.
Women named 'nikki' that aren't strippers, prostitutes or porn actresses.
If americans spent the same amount of effort/enthusiasm/money fighting our inept health care system and the patent corruption of the FDA as they do researching/blogging/kitchen prescribing homeopathic cures... fuck, man, my head might explode trying to fathom that reality.
Hearing someone say 'you look so much older than your age' and taking it as a compliment.
Unzipping someone's pants while muttering 'big money, no whammies.'
Pick-up line consisting of handing someone a box of kleenex and saying, 'hey, hi, you're gonna need these.'
Recommend reading all the posts on piffle--which was a poetry blog I participated on, ran by ani smith--written by xtx, ani smith and an unreliable witness (vaughan simmons). Suggest starting from the oldest post and going forward.
xTx's poems are on another level, I think. This is back when she believed her writing to be subpar and wasn't hanging out with all the mfa fags.
Alternate reality where Willie Nelson sings 'mamas don't let your babies grow up watching the disney channel.'
If you're the person who keeps a binder of sam pink's printed blog posts, email me (email@example.com). I have something to mail you that you might enjoy.
I don't care who you are and won't violate your anonymity to anyone (if that's something you wish to preserve).
That instinctive feeling of disgust for someone/something without the understanding of why.
Feel such deep affinity towards any stranger I meet with a genuine sense of humor that I have to war against the compulsion to invite them to move in with me.
Whenever someone says that idiotic slogan 'fuck the haters' they never seem to comprehend that the strongest 'hater' comes from within.
Living life with a perspective that's similar to a spider inside a shower drain looking out.
Seeing a large body of water and thinking, 'looks peaceful down there.'
Standing in a laundromat and imagining yourself climbing in a dryer and closing the door, then living there until the human species becomes extinct..
There's always one paranoid cokehead at a party sitting in a shadowy corner and muttering to himself like gollum with the precious that causes me to visibly laugh.
The easiest way to discern if someone pushing a cause (veganism/rawism/healthcare reform etc.) is bullshit is through their emotional investment to how many people are following/adopting the flag waving, instead of, ya know, focusing on the actual fucking cause.
Meaning, regardless of how the person feels about what they're espousing, it's secondary; a vehicle to garner attention/validation/narcissistic fulfillment fueled by the (dishonest) manipulation of others for the sake of personal satisfaction.
Keep thinking 'animatronic personalities' while interacting with people.
How many 'best friends' do you have.
I wish I had three of you:
one to love,
one to leave
one to annihilate.
Stockpiling watermelon like weapons.
Shout out to face fucking.
Feel like watching an uninhibited homosexual man dancing to pretty much any genre of music is far more interesting than anything you or I will ever create, say or do.
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 a large group 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.