f-your blog

Frienenemy

We all have one at one point in our life. The true intention of the start of an attempted friendship is never that to purposely gain an enemy. We as people truly have good intentions the majority of the time.

I know. There are some people that only become your friends because of your position in life, because of your circle that they want to penetrate, your looks, your car, there are endless countless reasons that you could be used for your friendship. Maybe we all do this to some degree or another, even if you substitute these replaceable material things with that of someone’s personality. With that of a person’s inner most soul.

No, I know again. We can’t see the soul on the surface. That is why friendship can be a trial and error process. As we are younger, we are less cautious until we get hurt by another. It is very much akin to baby animals (and baby humans for that matter) who will go up to another and have unending trust in them.

That is why I believe not in original sin. Sin is taught, sin is learned. Behaviors around us are emulated. What is a sin to you, may not be a sin to me. And vice versa. Yes there are sins which an overwhelming majority knows are wrong, like murder, because they feel wrong and you would not want this happening to you. However, there are smaller things on the grand scale of things, that some people do not consider wrongs.

This therein lies where we come about the phenomenon of known as frenenemy.

You see it does not really matter, hide nor hair, of what a person’s upbringing is. It is what you surround yourself with. Your blood family can only be so much a part of this. Most of this is up to you and what you can tolerate.

I have had a few frenemies in my day. There is that old expression, “Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer.”

But how much can we tolerate? Where is the point where we must draw the line in the sand and say stop? I am beginning to the see where this ends and where this begins on the great precipice known as reality. There is a fine line between everything sane and rational and everything “insane” and irrational.Â When the line is visible to all those around you sometimes it is time to call this to an end.

Yet, I wonder to myself. Were my motives selfish for associating with this person in the first place? Was there something I wanted to get out of it? Obviously I was getting something out of it as it filled my need for evil, that was mainly learned by society. There was a hole in my soul that needed a temporary patch job like putting ambisol on a cracked tooth or putting a tiny snoopy band-aid on an arm gushing with blood.

My most famous frenenemy (no he was not really famous, more like imfamous) started as my friend but after many years I only stuck around for reasons to this day I am unaware of. Perhaps I liked the pain that he brought me. Perhaps I liked the element of surprise that he brought to my life because I never knew what city I might be in or how much money he could bring me in the next night. He turned into my boss, but wow now I’m really rambling.

The point is. How long would you stick around for a frenemy? Is there any point to the mayhem?

I say. If no one is bleeding, then no one is hurt. But once you have ripped open my wounds and created new ones on top of that well then I listen to my friend Tori Amos. She says maybe it’s time to say goodbye now.

By The One and Only

SpaceDog

Yet Another Reason Not To Visit Mexico

One day my good friend Danka and I were drinking on the stoop of Danka’s house playing the “Most Fucked Up Story Game”. The game is rudimentary and simplistic. The goal is to tell the most fucked up story of the evening thus becoming the winner.

Dana served a short time in the United States Navy before being discharged for being an Alcoholic who was “Derelict of Duty” or some stupidly phrased bullshit statement. You see Danka had a habit of going binge drinking while on shore leave which resulted in a semi concous Danka being dragged to returning to the ship for check in by his fellow soldiers. Finally Danka out did even himself by missing Check In in favor of chilling at some waitresses’s apartment he was hooking up with in Tijuana, eating Captain Crunch cereal, and watching American cartoons in Spanish. Well that was the final straw that broke the preverbal Camal’s back, and the Navy booted Danka instructing him never to return to any branch of the United States Military ever again.

Before being unceremoniously kicked out of the Navy Danka had spent several months down in Tijuana Mexico were he was temporarily stationed for some fucking Navy related reason. While in Tijuana Danka learned some tactics for day to day safety and survival that weren’t taught in the Navy. It was simply how to navigate daily life in Tijuana without running into trouble with Thieves, Drug Dealers, Pimps, Gangs, Cartels, Muggers, Car Jackers, Con Artists, Drug Addicts, Hookers, Ex Convicts, Militias and Corrupt Cops.

Now with the corrupt Cops it was basic Extortion. If a Tourist per say wandered into the wrong neighborhood the Cops would arrest them, and then drive them directly to an ATM. The Police Officers would then demand a bribe of usually $300 U.S., BUT if you refused to pay they would take you to jail on some bullshit trumped up charge. While it goes without saying that Jail fucking sucks, and is one of the last places anyone would want to find themselves especially in a foreign 3rd World Country. Mexican Jails have a foul reputation for being filthy, over crowded, understaffed, Bribing of Guards, Murders, Rapes, and inhumane living conditions for the most part.

This is what happened to Danka’s buddy named Blackburn. Blackburn was on shore leave and had had a few drinks when he wondered off the main fairway into a shitty neighborhood. While desperately trying to find his way back, which was complicated by his intoxication, Blackburn was picked up by a couple of Corrupt Cops looking for a quick pay day. The Cops drove Blackburn to the ATM and demanded payment ($300 U.S. per Officer times 2 for a total of $600 U.S.), and Blackburn told them too fuck off because he wasn’t giving them a single goddamn cent. So the Cops threw Blackburn into the back of the squad car, but instead of taking him to the nearest shithole jail they drove him to a sleazy Dive Bar on the outskirts of the city that featured Nightly Donkey Shows (if you don’t know what a Donkey Show is Google it) The police shoved Blackburn into the dimly lit backroom of the Bar and tied him to a rickety wooden chair. The Police then proceeded to sell Blackburn to the Bar owner for $775 U.S. and then left quickly.

The Bar owner had one of his cronies take Blackburn out back to a Small Barn located next to the Bar. Once there Blackburn was stripped buck naked and tied to a barn post. The Bar Owner’s henchmen then ground up 3 or 4 bottles of Viagra and mix them with a quarter ounce of Crystal Meth. Once the concoction was full mixed together the Side Kicks laced a 32 ounce Corona with it, and then fed it to a Donkey that was penned up in a cramped stall. About 50 minutes later the Donkey had a raging 18 inch erection and was violently kicking the sides of the pen. One of the Cronies then untied Blackburn from the post, and then tied his hands behind his back while the other crony aggressively lassoed the inscenced Donkey. The 3 men and the doped up Donkey then made their way over to the Bar and entered through a side delivery entrance.

The Bar smelled like hot stale beer and body oder mixed with piss. There were a handful of patrons spread out through out the Bar that was so smoky it was like being trapped in a fucking mist or some shit. The Henchman responsible for Blackburn took him over to a worn out Pummel Horse that was held together with Duct Tape. He then bent Blackburn over the Pummel Horse and bound Blackburn’s wrists and ankles together. Next a shitfaced MC comes on a beat 1972 PA System to announce the Nightly Donkey Show is Starting. After a short pause to allow the Bar Patrons time to freshen their drinks and light a smoke the 2nd Henchman dragged the Donkey over fighting it every step of the way. As the Donkey was being brought over the Bar Owner came over to Blackburn and sprayed him with Female Donkey Pheromones and Menstrual Blood to get the deranged drugged up Donkey’s attention. It worked. It worked extremely well. In an instant the Donkey got a whiff of Blackburn and galloped over to him, and mounted Blackburn placing its front legs on Pummel Horse on either side of Blackburn. As soon as the Donkey penetrated Blackburn it went fuck wild, this Donkey wasn’t playing “Just The Tip” with Blackburn he was slamming shaft balls deep in Blackburn’s battered butthole. It took about 17 minutes before the Donkey finally completed and its semen was seeping out of Blackburn’s broken butthole like a garden hose.

Blackburn was about to be loaded into a car and left to die of his injuries in the Desert to die when the a group of American Military Police busted in the front door of the Bar with a vengeance. Blackburn had to be taken out on a fucking stretcher and Medivaced by Helicopter to a Special Surgical Trauma Hospital in Seattle Washington. Blackburn lived after spending the better part of a year in the Hospital where the Surgeons removed just over 8 feet of his intestines, rebuilt his bowls, reconstructed his rectum, and stitched up his sphincter. Blackburn was discharged from the Navy Under Section 8 Status due to his Donkey Rape induced PTSD. He moved home to Shasta South Dakota and lives in his Mom’s basement on permanent disability watching Anime while drooling on himself while playing with his pecker making guttural sounds.

Needless to say there was no fucking way I could top that Tale of Terror in Tijuana so Danka went home that night quite drunk and the most fucked up story winner.

Thanks For Das READ,

Les Sober

Madness Beyond Midnight: Les Unleashes Atomic Text Bomb

I’m not a morning person, nor am I an Afternoon person. I am the typical Night Owl exemplified a thousand fold. I get my so called second wind around 10:30-11:00pm and by say 2 am I’m up and running firing on all cylinders.

I have a tendency to text bomb Spacedog since he doesn’t mind fielding an avalanche of texts at all hours of the night, and more importantly Spacedog is one of the very few people I can write/text/say anything to. Thus I text the most extremely perverted, obscene, Absurd, Foul, Offensive, Insulting, Outrageous, Raunchy, Demented, Insanely Crazy, Controversial, Unorthodox, and “WTF” texts his way.

Last Night was no acceptation. The following are texts I sent to Spacedog starting at 1:49am with the last text sent around 3:00am.

1:49am The Insanity Ensues:

My Feet Wreak Of Scotch

It was actually a decent dinner party until Eric tickled Theresa’s twat, and one of his sausage fingers slipped through her beef curtains ending up knuckle deep in her happy humping hole. At that point we were all kicked the hell out drunk as drunk can be into the nefarious night.

Bollywood has an emerging Pornography industry that has actual 4 hour long fucking musical orgies of Singing, Sexing, Dancing & Dicking with the Super Slutty Cunny Sutra.

My New Favorite Insult: “Go Fucking Fist Yourself” or “Go Fist Fuck Your Face”

Karl got his cock cut off down at the Slimy Sausage Packaging Plant by humping on a Industrial Disemboweling-Internal Organ Processing Machine.

“DAMN THESE ELECTRIC SEX PANTS!”

Masa Clitty world renowned Scottish Folk Singer and Exquisite Anal Gaping Artist

Look Into The Eye Of My Ass To See What Shit IS Going Down.

Feel the Wrath of a Drunk Skunk Rage Humping Your Leg and Cumming on your socks for Spite.

Over Time How Far Do Vaginal Lips Sag as they head South?!

I’m suffering the onset symptoms of Saggy Senior Scrotum Aging Disorder, so I scheduled an appointment to Botox my Balls Tomorrow at 5:30 the AMs

Phil was a generally smart motherfucker who was killed by a Cannibal when he mistakenly told the Cannibal to “Eat My Ass”

The Young Cocksman Vs. The Salty Yogurt Singers for the Best New Porno Punk Rock Group 2017

If He Be a She and She Be a He then aren’t we just back where we started?!

New Porn Title: Licking Lot Lizards: The Trucker Fucker Union

Boner Toner For All Your Porn Star Needs.

I’m not giving coal to the people I deem to have been naughty this year. Instead I will be giving them 3 Pounds of Unwashed Wild Pif Pubes.

Sci Fi Porn is just Fucking With Phasers.

SciFi Pornos: All Alien Anal 11

HOLY ANAL GAPING GOPHERS BATMAN!

Can Drag Queens hide their Balls by sticking them in their butts?!

Justin Bieber’s Man Beaver

My New Death Metal Punk Band is Called THE MANGLED MANGINAS

Get It Up, Get It In, Get It Off, and Get It Out

They be Swank Fucking Fancy.

TODAY AT 5:56am Text From Spacedog

Hi. New Blog? Lol

Thanks for Das READ,

Les Sober

Joy & Gary: An Exercise in the Psychotic

Lets be real we have all had them before and chances are we will have them again, and no I’m not talking about Crabs. I’m talking about NEIGHBORS oh yes my friend Neighbors those people living next door to us all. We are all pretty familiar with the different types of Neighbors one can have noting that the best Neighbor is either no Neighbor at all or an Anti Social Neighbor.

You have the Nosey Neighbor always lurking around looking for something to fucking to find fault or issue with. The Young Neighbors those special first time apartment dwellers who run rampant because they haven’t realized they no longer live at home, and thus have to clean up their own shit, and act like a fucking adult not a feral 18 year old. Then there the Overly Friendly Neighbors the ones that want to be your BFF for LIFE and go one family vacations together or celebrate the holidays with. Theres the Party Neighbors who live in a eternal frat party blaring shitty EDM while playing endless games of beer pong. There’s the Arguing Neighbors who make the assholes on Jerry Springer look like the Micky Mouse Club, and are willing to fight morning, noon or night because apparently they have no jobs to go to. The Geriatric Neighbors who complain incessantly about anything and everything you do, how loud you do it, and when you choose to do it. The New Parent Neighbors/ Multiple Child Neighbors are not the same ,but are closely related as the bottom line is their annoying kids become your problem as well as you hear every goddamn temper tantrum.

Alright enough of the example listing bullshit. The point is Neighbors are annoying and a constant nuisance that honestly we all rather not have to deal with at all. I have encountered every extreme when its come to my past Neighbors from Almost Dead to Crackhead, and every deviant in-between. Thats Why I consider myself extremely lucky now a days that I have absentee Neighbors. They only show up a couple times a year for a few days to hang out with family and shit. But when the question arises “Who was the Worst of the Worst” pertaining to my past Neighbors the answer hands down without a doubt is Joy & Gary .

I was living Phase 2 of my life in The Great Southern Swamp, and was living with my good friend Nightmare. My Wife and I also where spending more and more time together during this period as well. Nightmare and I lived in a typical Swamp Condo with a mundanely generic floor plan. Essentially you walked into a small enclosed courtyard (enclosed by a 8 foot privacy fence) and straight to the front door. Once you entered the condo you were facing the stairs up to the bedrooms. On the right was the Living Room and to the left was the dinning room and down stairs bathroom. The kitchen was located around the corner past the dinning room. Now in true Swamp fashion the condo had NO WINDOWS which is really fucking weird to say. Instead of windows the architects used Sliding Glass Doors like the kind you commonly find in a house leading to the backyard/pool/deck. Once you went upstairs the guest bedroom was directly in front of you and the master was to the left of a small landing. The bedrooms both had Sliders leading out to a balcony overlooking the courtyard. That meant essentially that 4 walls of our condo where made of fucking glass.

Ironically Joy & Gary lived 25 feet to the right of our condo in a separate set of units that neighbored our building seperated only by a narrow sidewalk running in-between the two units. Joy & Gary fell into the “Arguing Neighbor” Category. That though my friend is just the tip of the iceberg. Joy & Gary would fight any hour of the day or night with ALL 4 SLIDERS OPEN. Their arguments were fucking epic and lasted for HOURS (I mean 3,4,5 or more hours) NON STOP I swear they didn’t fucking stop to breathe. To make shit crazier Joy & Gary had a young son about 7 if I had to and am guessing named Albert and his best friend a cocker spaniel who’s name I do not recollect. During Joy & Gary’s hellacious fights you’d never hear a single peep from Albert or the Dog. In fact 95% of what we were subjected to was solely Joy’s tirades as Gary seldom spoke and even in the heat of battle when he raised his voice it was only a grabbled mumble sort of like Charlie Brown’s teacher. As for Joy aka the star of the shit show more than likely had some serious and legit mental health/ emotional issues, well it sounded that way to us. Joy would SCREAM BLOODY MURDER at the top of her lungs like a demonically possessed savage warrior, and the stamina of a Track and Field Olympic Gold Medalist.

Now this is the strangest part of it all it was the topics of their knock down drag out verbal fisticuffs. For the sake of time for both the reader and myself I have the Top 5 Most Absurdly Savage Argument Topics from the Joy & Gary Wars. Joy’s Quotes are in all actuality virtually verbatim.

Topic 1 Sample: “IF You Don’t Walk The Dog Gary I’m Going To Divorce You!”

J: “GAAAAAARY! Walk the fucking dog Gary, walk the goddamn dog!”

G. (Unintelligible Garbling)

J: “Gary if you don’t walk the dog I’ll DIVORCE YOU! YOU HERE ME GARY?! YOU HEAR THAT GARY?!! I work all damn day and you won’t walk the dog by god Gary you sleazy shit, are you boozing it up at the boogie bar Gary? Sucking down shitty cocktails starring at fake tits?!I’ll divorce you, I’ll take everything, EVERY FUCKING THING! Walk the Dog Gary, WALK THE DOG OR ITS DIVORCE! You don’t DO SHIT GARY, you don’t do a GODDAMN THING AROUND HERE! WALK THE DOG GARY OR I’LL DIVORCE YOU, I’LL FUCKING DIVORCE YOUR FAT ASS!”

Topic 2 Sample: “Don’t Send Your Drug Dealer To My Job”

J: “FUCK YOU GARY, I don’t know what is going on? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON GARY?! Are you working Gary, I work all fucking day and DON’T SEND YOUR DRUG DEALER TO MY JOB! I won’t be fired for you Gary, I’m not getting fucking fired over your bullshit.(Primal Scream) BULLSHIT GARY BULLSHIT! BIG PIMPING DOPE DEALING THUG!What the fuck is this Gary, Gary WHAT THE FUCK?! WHAT THE FUCK GARY?! You shooting dope in your dick again Gary because I know that dope dick game already! I bust my ass and god knows what the fuck your doing, DO YOU HAVE TRACK MARKS ON YOUR PECKER GARY?! what are you doing Gary WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!(Scream with Unintelligible dialogue) Don’t EVER GARY, FUCKING DON’T its fucking ridiculous DON’T SEND YOUR DRUG DEALER TO MY JOB GARY!!”

Topic 3 Sample: “Where Do You Go All Day?!”

J: “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck! Fucking stop the shit Gary! (Prolonged Scream) Where do you go, where do you go all day Gary? You working Gary what the fuck you said your working a job, what fucking job? You giving out hand jobs in the Home Depot parking lot or WHAT?! I don’t know where you go all day, you could be fucking off drinking your ass off at the goddamn bar with your bullshit buddies Gary or your slumming at the sex shops on the edge of town like a dirty old perverted man?!. I pay the bills Gary I PAY THE GODDAMN BILLS! BILLS NOT BULLSHIT GARY! You could be on Meth again for all I know pan handling for dope money for fucks sake!! I don’t know where you go all day, what do you do Gary What is it pray tell you do all fucking day as I work till my goddamn back is breaking, ITS BREAKING GARY, MY FUCKING BACK IS BREEEEEAAAAAKING! YOUR BREAKING MY BACK GARY, Where do you go ALL DAAAAAAAY?!!!”

Topic 4 Sample: “Where The Receipts?!’

J:”Where are they? Where are the goddamn receipts Gary? I gave you money Gary money I worked my tits off for and you don’t bring me any fucking receipts? Where the fuck is the money Gary what you spend it on High Grade Japanese Sex Dolls, is that it Gary you fucking dirty old pervert, you a pervert Gary is that where the money is going or what, what Gary (Loud Howling) You banging Bath Salts Gary, You getting fucked up on Flakka again Gary is that it?! Wheres MY MONEY?! What did you do spent it on what you won’t tell me, is it a fucking secret, WHATS THE FUCKING SECRET GARY, You financing Cheap Local Porn again at the Welfare Motels Gary? GARY! WHERE ARE THE RECEIPTS!

Topic 5 Sample: “What Happened To Dinner?!”

J:” SO GARY what the hell happened to dinner?! Did you snort our dinner Gary, did you fucking snort it up your fucking nose?! I come home and theres no dinner, you promised dinner you wanted off my shit list GARY. What the fuck have you been up to, you weren’t sure as hell making dinner you bastard! YOU SON OF A BITCH! (High Pitched Wail) YOU SON OF A BITCH! What happened to dinner Gary you spend our food money on porn again, where you at the scummy porno shops again you PEEP SHOW PERVERT! Jerking off in a shitty adult book store like a demented OLD FUCK! I’m starving Gary this shit is bullshit, what happened to DINNER?! You fuck a hooker with it Gary did you bang some crackhead bitch with a std ridden twat under the freeway over pass was that WHAT HAPPENED TO DINNER?!”

Sometimes we would listen and laugh or make a drinking game out of their arguments (drink every time Joy screams GARY!) but most of the time it was a huge paining the ass being forced to listen to insane shit like those two psychos Joy & Gary. But to be honest Joy & Gary’s arguments were deeply disturbing considering this was a almost daily/nightly occurrence. 7 or 8 months before We moved Joy & Gary disappeared. I honestly have no idea what the hell could have become of these two tyrannical twats but here are some scenarios. Somebody finally called in the Cops and Gary or Joy were arrested and the other took the kid and ran for the fucking hills. Either Joy or Gary Died and the other took the kid and split. Gary could have had Joy committed to a mental institution and hit the road with his son in tow. It could also have been a murder suicide, but that shit would have made the news and I think we would have noticed if our psychotic neighbors went apeshit crazy and offed each other. Now with that said Joy or Gary could have murdered the other and fled town and possible prosecution. All in All if I had to make a definitive guess Gary killed Joy and headed to Mexico with his son Albert.

Thanks For Reading,

Les Sober

The Tale of the Small Town MothMan Mural

When We moved from the Southern Swamp to the Southern Country one of the advantages of the move was there were several structures located out back behind our new home offices. There was a large one car garage which We unceremoniously designated for the usual trivial shit like Lawn Mowers, Various garden tools, Paint cans, and for a few months 2 large puppies (who now have their own Dog House complete with Heater and Air Conditioning)

The second structure was a run of the mill silver, 10 foot high, 20 foot long, 8 foot wide, sheet metal shed supported by an internal basic wooden frame. When We purchased the property the shithead previous owners failed to give us among many other things the keys to unlock said shed. We could see through the 4 small windows (2 per side) and do a very general assessment. From what we could see the only real issue other than getting a new lock was the plywood floor was rotten in 2 separate places and would need patching.

Once We got the shed lock changed and were able to enter the structure things looked as if the shed was worser for the wear than We had anticipated. Even if it needed more TLC than We thought it was still a viable option to be My Art Studio (Yes I paint and Draw in a variety of various mediums such as CharCoal or Oil Paints. I have recently decided that it is at this point in my life I will be pursuing Sculpting as creating a 3 dimensional project is going to be fucking awesome and intense.) The first thing I did was load it up with all my various art supplies (Canvases, Paints, Brushes, Assortment of Project Materials etc.), but the floor fix would take time, and I have NO PATIENCE, NON AT ALL. Its A Virtue I was born without and I’m totally fucking fine with that.

It took less than a day before I was wallowing in frustrated boredom and thought to myself that if I couldn’t currently use the shed I could still in the mean time decorate the outside. I drove to the local hardware store in the neighboring town and loaded up on Spray Paint big time. I had no idea what I was going to Paint on the side of the shed so first I selected which side I would do first. The rightsize of the shed made a small alleyway between it and the garage so space to work was limited. The same was true of the back of the shed even more so as our fence came in even closer proximity than the garaged and the sheds right wall. That left me with the choice of either the front or the left side of the shed to choose from. I chose the left side since it was bigger and had the best area in which to work.

I walked around the to the left side of the shed and stood there just looking at the shed without a thought in my mind waiting. It didn’t take long before an idea popped into my head MOTHMEN/MOTHMAN. Now before the first fool blurts out how much they loved the movie “The Mothman Prophecies” shut the fuck up. True it was a some what decent movie, but the Mothman is not solely limited to the Point Pleasant, West Virginia 1967 Silver Bridge Collapse that killed 46 people. The Mothman or Mothmen if you will have been seen in different areas before an impending disaster strikes such places as Chernobyl circling Reactor 4, before 9/11 in New York City, The I-35 Bridge Collapse in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and The Swine Flue Outbreak in Mexico in 2009 for instance.

Now I don’t claim to believe or not believe in such things as UFO’s, Ghost’s, Monsters or Cryptozoology but it all fun food for thought because who actually knows, and all I’m saying is I don’t know. What I do know is I utterly LOVE UNDERDOGS and to me the Mothman is just that, The Underdog of Cryptozoology. The main debate surrounding the Mothman is simply this is the Mothman coming and bringing death/doom/disaster with it OR is the Mothman a supernatural being/creature that comes to WARN US of immediate impending danger?! I hold with the latter of the two believes myself. It all added up to a quick decision that the mural I’d Spray Paint on the side of the shed would be The Mothman. (Yet myths, legends and lore interest me to no end ever fueling the fires of my undying curiosity.)

I should take a moment to add that the left side of the shed faced the street in a small neighborhood in a tiny town located along the Bible Belt. For this reason and this reason alone I wrote “Mothman” across its chest because while the Mothman was enough to turn many a head I didn’t want (nor need for that matter) for the locals to think the new guy was painting Devils or Demons on the side of his shed.

In a few days the Mothman was finished and I decided the silver background was fucking up my visual of the Mothman. I thought about background colors to use (My wife suggested blue and I should have listened, but I was thinking Navy Blue not say Sky Blue) and some how I chose Orange. On top of using Orange for the background I used a VERY DEEP AND INTENSE shade only to realize when it was all said and done the Orange background made it look more demonic than I’d liked or intended. I didn’t want to change the mural so Mothman with Orange background and all remained vigilantly watching the passerby on the road for months.

Unfortunately upon a proper inspection of the shed, the shed was found to be structurally unsound. The floor was completely shot and would need total replacement. The supporting wood infrastructure was compromised beyond belief. This was apparently due to the fact the previous owner had tried to wire up the shed with electricity themselves and fucked it up causing a fucking fire. The fire had burned a majority of the roof supports right through so if you tapped on them with a hammer they disintegrated.

I called my contractor and informed him that the shed was shot and I’d need his help tearing it down so as We could replace it. 3 or4 days later my contractor showed up with a small handful of workers who set off demolishing the rickety old shed. It only took them a few mere hours to reduce the standing structure into piles of scrap.

That evening I was talking on the phone to my Brother in the Great Northern New Yonder and he asked what was new. I told him about the failing inspection of the doomed shed and that it had been torn down and hauled off. I also told him that for a split second I thought about asking my contractor if the Mothman Mural could be salvaged, but in the end I just let it go. My Brother started laughing, not in an at me type manner, but a “He hasn’t figured it out yet” kind of way. Once he paused to catch his breath I asked him what he found so fucking amusing about the whole ordeal?! I had spent all the time and effort to paint the Mothman mural just to have it crushed and carted away in the end. He responded by saying that if I believed the Mothman was a Warning of impending danger, then painted one on the side of the shed, and then ultimately the shed met its demise then it followed my Mothman belief to a tee.

I couldn’t help laughing because he was dead right. A dilapidated shed, a Mothman Mural painted upon it, and 4 moths later the shed and the mural are gone having been destroyed in the dismantling process.

Thanks For Das Read,

Les Sober

Unconventional Assignment Sets English Department on its Ass

DISCLAIMER: THE FOLLOWING POST DOES NOT INDORSE, PROMOTE, SUPPORT OR GLORIFY DRUG ADDICTION. IF YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW IS BATTLING ADDICTION PLEASE GET HELP.

I was a freshman in collage when I took a writing course that was billed as a creative writing class. It turned out to be a real turd. There was absolutely NOTHING creative about the class I assure you. The Professor was phoning it in as far as I was concerned. There wasn’t creativity because there was no originality. What I mean is this Guy basically ran us through a basic writing textbook full of the most mundane rudimentary writing exercises.

One fateful day the so called Professor assigned what is called “A List Exercise”. A list Exercise is writing a list describing a process such as ReBuilding a Carburetor, Baking Cup Cakes, Making a Toy Model, Groom a Dog etc. in list form. Its basically a step by step how to list.

I was so utterly disgusted with the assignment I decided to write an unconventional list because that would be interesting (I mean its a fucking list how interesting is that shit?!), and not just a half assed description of some ordinary task I chose just to complete the assignment.

When it comes to writing a classic motto of sorts is “A writer writes what they know” and with that said I decided for my unorthodox List Exercise that I would write about the ritual of the Heroin Addict which I am quite personally familiar with from my Decade of Debauchery (My past feels like several lifetimes).

Needless to say this caught the Professors eye and not in a good way. He told me it was inappropriate and that I was making a mockery of the class. The Professor then went on to report my paper to the Head of the English Department. Before the end of the day the entire English Department was gossiping feverishly about it and adding their two cents worth.

In the end I was given a slap on the wrist and told not to repeat such “Disruptive Behavior” and all would be forgiven.

Ladies & Gentlemen without a further ado for your reading pleasure I give you that very cleaver and controversial Exercise List:

Score the heroin
Find safe and private area/location
Fire up Zippo lighter and place it standing upright
Get spoon out
Place small amount of water in spoon (to help with this part bending the spoon at the base of the neck is recommended)
Combine the water and heroin in spoon
Mix water and heroin thoroughly in spoon
Place spoon over a heat source i.e. flame such as a Lighter, Match or Lit Candle
Wait for the water-heroin concoction to simmer (Bubble)
Once simmering immediately remove spoon from flame
Allow the mixture to cool (requires just an minute or so)
Place piece of cotton or a piece cigarette filter to use as a filter
Draw up heroin into syringe through the filter
Make sure to remove ALL air bubbles by flicking syringe with index finger (If you inject an air bubble it will travel to your heart and you will DIE)
Once the bubbles have burst expel the excess by pushing plunger of syringe until air is out

16.Tie off using a belt, phone cord etc. as a tourniquet

17. Insert syringe into vein at a 45 degree angle

18. Draw back plunger to see if your actually in a vein

19. If a small amount of blood rushes into the syringe your set, if not repeat #17

20. Once you’ve draw the plunger back and blood entered the syringe inject heroin slowly

21. Once the heroin is injected remove tourniquet

22. Remove needle

23. Wipe off excess blood from injection site

24. Apply pressure to stop any further bleeding

25. In 3 to 4 hours the high will wear off (possibly making you severely sick depending on how addicted you are or become)

26. When you come down you will want/need to repeat this entire list again and again and again….Until You either end up DEAD, IN PRISON or GET CLEAN.

Thanks For Reading

Les Sober

Kevin Smith in a 532 Word Nutshell.

Kevin Smith was born into a Roman Catholic family on August 2, 1970 in Red Bank New Jersey. He attended and graduated from Henry Hudson High school and went on to attend classes at The New School for Social Research as part of their creative writing program. He ended up leaving The New School for Social Research after a year due to the school’s authorities complaining about Smith’s “undisciplined behavior”. Smith then went on to attend the Vancouver Film School in 1990 for four months. After he left the course he found his life lacking direction and decided to take a job as a clerk at a convenience store in Leonardo New Jersey.

While he was working there, Smith saw Richard Linklater’s low budget comedy “Slacker”. The movie inspired him to write and direct his own work. Smith’s good friend from film school, Scott Mosier, prompted him to write his first script for the movie “Clerks” and in addition to writing the screenplay produced the film along with Mosier. The film followed a day in the life of two central characters Dante and his best friend Randle who work as clerks. Dante works at a convenience store and Randle works at the video rental store next door. Smith shot the film in black and white during the hours after the convenience store he worked for closed, and edited the movie in the store room on his breaks. The film was an acclaimed success, but in 1995 his second movie “Mallrats” ( whose characters hang out at their local mall) was a box office disaster.

Then two years later he released his third movie “Chasing Amy” about a straight man falling for a lesbian woman and the movie was a huge box office success. In 1999 Smith’s fourth film “Dogma” was released and it caused a massive backlash from the Christian community due to its discussion of the religious issues pertaining to Catholic beliefs. The films that followed were 2001’s “Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back”, and the big budget film “Jersey Girl” (another colossal flop at the box office), 2006’s sequel to “Clerks” aptly titled “Clerks 2”, “Zack and Miri make a porno” in 2008 ( a romantic comedy that failed at the box office. In 2005 Smith wrote his first book titled “Silent Bob Speaks” a collection of essays on multiple topics .In 2007 Smith wrote the first episode of the short lived television show “Reaper” and served as the show’s executive producer for seven additional episodes.

In 2007 he also started his podcast (which he refers to as SModcast). After “Zack and Miri make a porno” Smith took several years off from writing/directing his own movies and went on lengthy spoken word-like tours of colleges and small theaters discussing a variety of topics from screen writing to his personal life. In 2011 he returned to film. He wrote/directed the film “Red State” (his first horror movie) and “Tusk” in 2012 (after reading a bizarre want add). Additionally in 2012 Smith started his second venture in television with his show “Comic book men” which is a reality tv show filmed in a comic book store. The stars are the store’s staff. Smith has been very vocal about wanting to make one last film pertaining to Hockey.

Thanks For The Read As Always,

Les Sober

Unknown History To Me

Tonight I was informed by my Wife that she is deeply concerned that I don’t know who the hell Shamus McButtfucker is. I am a big fan of history as its a Sociological Study, and pride myself on being smarter than the average bear on the subject. I openly admit I have never heard hide nor hair of this so called Shamus McButtfucker. So curious on where the fuck my Wife was going with this I asked Why the hell I should know who the fuck Shamus is in the first fucking place?!

She replied that Shamus McButtfucker was an Irish Cowboy circa 1614 ad who’s claim to fame was that he buttfucked all the cows out of Ireland because there was a huge cow epidemic, and they weren’t producing enough beef. So Shamus informed the cows that this was unacceptable , and therefore immediately started buttfucking them into submission. Needless to say the cows started producing more beef. Thus Ireland was saved from the great beef famine of 1676.

Subsequent Note: The potato famine suffered Irland a worse fate because for some unknown reason at that time there was no Shamus McSpudsfucker sad to say.

Thanks for the read,

Les Sober

Les’s Late Night Text Bombing SpaceDog

The other night during a synaptic storm I texted bombed SpaceDog with a slew of absurd, obscene, insane or offensive thoughts I was having through out the night. This time around the initial late night text bombing led to a 5 day sporadic exchange between SpaceDog and Myself.

The Texts are as follows.

Monday 10:50 pm: Les to Spacedog

Text: Dominick Dunn had a 13 1/2 inch Monster Cock and an All Star Porn career until one day he got on a public bus and was staring at a fellow female passenger. Dunn got a semi and when he sat down he accidentally fucked himself. He quite Pornographers the next day. But the question remains….Could he have maintained his career going Gay for Pay, but only actually fucking himself?

Tuesday 4:44 am: Spacedog to Les

Text: No he would have died of a cocaine addiction. Those half hard dicks up your hole would be hard to maintain.

Tuesday 5:37 am: Les to Spacedog

Text: Damn Dope Dicks, Coke snorting cocks!

Tuesday 2:56 pm: Spacedog to Les

Text: So the retarded guy I live by gave me mail he got by accident. Instead of just ringing my bell though he at first thought attempting his key in my door as a proper move. He was trying that fucker for a good 30 seconds before the rang the bell.

Tuesday 3:19 pm: Les to Spaced

Text: Well at least he has an excuse other than being just a mindless moron phone drone or just plain fucking stupidity, he is at least legit retarded.

Tuesday 8:58 pm: Les to Spacedog

Text: My new favorite insult is calling someone Cunt-Fart. Scrotumology is a lot like Palm Reading accept instead of reading lines on your hands its reading the wrinkles on your balls. TAINT PAINTING TUESDAY!

Tuesday 10:50pm Spacedog to Les

Text: Does it take into account your good ball and bad ball? And not the ball itself or more the sack. Bad balls kinda need to be removed. Good old one ball.

Tuesday 11:14 Les to Spacedog

Texts: Both and the equates the differential. They use a anal based algorithm. Testicular Topography is what your talking bout. The art of personally diagnosis using the shape, size, weight, and circumference of each nut.

Its all Eyeballs & Assholes on Facebook.

EAS: Enlarged Anus Syndrome.

Spunk Bunker Butter & Jazz Jam Sandwiches

Anal Gaping Grandmas.

Amputees with Foot Fetishes. Amputee Porn or “Stump Humping”. The Limp Dick Lounge Act.

Fantasying while jerking off is called an “Ejaculation Vacation.

The Mediterranean Sea home of the Spermicidal Jellyfish. The Jellyfish is comprised of sperm killing antibodies so the harvest them, and mash them into a lubricant.

Cream Pied Grandmas.

Deep Dildo Double Dicking.

The Vagbrator.

Ass Grease Sex Lube

Taint Piercing

Witness the Birth of an Abortion

Ragerrhea: Rage Induced Violently Explosive Diarrhea

Gentalmen Stop Spanking YourMonkeys! Ladies Stop Roughing Up Your Clams! STOP ANIMAL ABUSE! STOP JERKING OFF ANIMALS! STOP ANIMAL MOLESTATION!!

Scientology Mottos: “A Sucker Is Born Every Minute” and “A Fool & His Money Are Soon Separated.

The Pungent Stench Of Sex, The Foul Fumes Of Fucking.

I’ll have the Sucking’n Fucking Salad

Jazzy Juice is your Porn Star Sexual Stimulant Alcoholic Beverage now with 48% More Viagra & Vodka

Vaginal Viagra. All Hail Queen Clitoris & King Dong! Long Dong Silver AWAY!

Junk Stank New Crotch Deoderant

Implantphilia: The fetish where a person gets off fucking surgical implants, the most common being Breat Implants.

Blood Fart: Farting Blood. What if you jerked off so hard you ejaculated a testicle?!! FALLOPIAN TUBE TERRORISM!

Clit Shitting: Defecating on the Clitoris.

Siberian Ichtodeplomia: The Fetish where people get their rocks off fucking each other with frozen feces. OR the fetish where someone where participants fornicate with one another using frozen human feces.

Wednesday 2:19 am: Les to Spacedog

Brown Eye Wash. Vaginal Diarrhea . I can see with the eye of my cock and your a senior citizen when you cum cream of wheat.

Wednesday 4:07 am: Les to SPacedog

Aqua Cock is Deep Sea Dicking.

Wednesday 5:46 am: Spacedog to Les

Text: Double tapered shit. Was giving birth to a bloody fecal fetus. China Whyte. Goofy grape. Pie in my hole. Muff madness. Furkins and lemonade.

Wednesday 7:32 am: Les to Spacedog

Texts: Common Kiddies and I’ll tell you the tale of when the 1 Eyed Worm met the Bearded Clam! Anaconda Cock with the Vertical Smile. Mr. Harry taco.

Whats shittier than smoking Flakka? Smoking Flakka laced with Bath Salts and PCP.

Wednesday 8:53 am: Les to SPacedog

Texts: German Industrial Nipple Clamp All Inclusive Suspension Kit Only $199.99. That shit tweeted my tits.

Turkey Rapists will fuck the stuffing outta your bird.

Her Ass Is Like The Fucking Jaws Of Life. She asked if I wanted to see her Spotted Dick so I asked her if she wanted to see my Freckled Pecker?!

Nothing Like Dipping Your Balls In Fondu

Thursday 12:15am: Les to Spacedog

Remember Kids White Nationalists are Actually NAZIS FUCKERS! White Nationalists only eat White Meat.

Knob Gobbler: A Turkey That Sucks Your Dick.

Toilets EAT SHIT. Pissy Chrissy got shot in the Twat.

Saturday 5:18 pm: Les to Spacedog

Text: Sorry as fuck I missed your call, I’m driving. Their idiots and assholes all over the fucking road, call you back when I get back to the Orifice of an Office, headed to a meeting.

Saturday 5:33 pm: Spaced to Les

Text: Ok, Like a Mom Meeting?

Saturday 5:47 pm: Les to Spacedog

Text: Well not quite that, but it was a Business M-Meeting of a different kind LMFAO!

Saturday 5:58 pm: Spacedog to Les

Text: Murder LOL! My Slave Roots?

Saturday 6:01 pm: Les to Spacedog

Text: Murder? I fucking wish, but that be a legendarily long ass meeting as I have a massive on going list of people I’d like to murder LMFBO! My Slave Roots sounds like some fucking collage radio Indie Emo Band.