Tag: consequences

Yokai Bob The Builder

Welcome to Yet Another FYB Monday Post featuring Yokai Bob The Builder by MeatCanyon. It occurred to Me that We have Used Several of MeatCanyon’s Works Particularly on Mondays for the Last Few Weeks Creating an Unofficial MeatCanyon Monday Situation. Mondays fucking Suck so MeatCanyon’s Odd Ball Alternative Comedy just seems to be Great at Combating Monday Melodrama. With that Said this Week We are Showcasing some of MeatCanyon’s Darker Work this Time Around. Whats Uniquely Different About this Certain MeatCanyon Animation is its in Japanese with English Subtitles. Yokai has the definite Presents Itself as a Cautionary Tale Crossed with a Moral Fable with a Very Folklore Feel.

MeatCanyon’s real name is Hunter August Hancock better know by His Online User Name MeatCanyon. Hancock is an American Youtuber, Animator, Voice Actor, Comedian, Writer, and Director who makes Parody Animations of Popular Characters (say Sponge Bob for instance). Some Viewers of MeatCanyon’s Animations  have Described Them in just one Single Word “Horrifying”. A Common on going gag in Hancock’s Video’s is that something Normal or Mundane gets You killed or Possible Worse.

Synopsis:

Young Asian Couple is eating dinner at home when a Hideous Troll like Gnome Appears out of the blue asking “Can we fix it?” The Sight of this Ghoulish Gnome Terrifies the Young Couple, but Alas the Ghastly Gnome Kidnaps Wife. Man Obviously Panics and Demands that the Gruesome Gnome return His Wife to Him. Unfortunately the Ungodly Gnome Tells the Husband matter of Factly that “You can’t fix this.” before Disappearing into the Night. Will The Poor Man ever Cross Paths with the Godless Gnome Again, and be Provided the Opportunity to have His Beloved Wife Returned to Him? Watch and See.

Enjoy.

Thanks For Watching,

   Presented By Les Sober  

The Motorcycle Fiasco

Since I along with the Rest of the World have a Great Deal more Down Time I have been reflecting on the Past a Bit. Yesterday in Fact I remembered the Story of The Motorcycle Fiasco, and Now I’m going to Tell It.

A Life Time Ago when I was in fucking High School My Two Best Friends where Bluejetski (whom I have Mention Before) and the other was Tuck. Tuck was the first one of Us to Get His Driver’s License and have an Actual Car. Unfortunately Tuck was a Hell of a Mechanic and Great at Starting Projects, but He was also a Procrastinator who Never seemed to Finish whatever He had Started. So While Tuck had a Kick Ass Camaro and a License the Car Remained Inoperable languishing in the Driveway. I wouldn’t be fucking surprised if the very same fucking Camaro is sitting at the Top of the Driveway at Tuck’s Parents House (Tuck I heard indeed up buying His Parents House when They Retired to New Mexico or Some other Cowboy State) to this very fucking Day.

One Day the Three of US were walking Home from some Girl’s House We went to School with who was Friends with Tuck. In the Girl’s Neighborhood there was what was Referred to as “The Biker House” because Not Only were the Owners Die Hard Hardcore Bikers, but so were Their Friends/Associates who there all the time that They might of Well Lived There (and Some more than Likely Did at One Point or Another). One this Particular Day a Buch of the Bikers had taken up Residence on the Front Lawn in Cheap Ass Beach Chairs with a Big Ass Cooler of Beer. Some of the Bikers present were in the Garage with the Door wide Open standing around a Motorcycle while Drinking Beer and Bullshitting.

           

There was also a Generic Looking Motorcycle parked Horizontally on the Lawn for whatever reason. As soon as Tuck laid Eyes on the Parked Motorcycle He became Infatuated with it, and Actually stopped Dead in His Tracks. As We Stood there watching Tuck Staring Intently at the Motorcycle while Middle of the Road One of the Bikers Acknowledged Our Presence and Called Out, and Tuck instantly responded to the Greeting Enthusiastically. Tuck walked up the Drive Way and Started talking to the Bikers congregating in the Garage for a While. Bluejetski and Myself remained standing by the Curb trying to Awkwardly figure out what the fuck Tuck was Up To Exactly. It didn’t take Long before We found Out.

All of a Sudden Tuck laughing shook several of the BIker’s Hands, walked over to the aforementioned Motorcycle, Grabs the Handlebars, Kicks Up the Stand, and Started Walking the Bike dow the Driveway towards Us. Apparently Tuck had inquired about the Motorcycle in Question and had managed to Buy it for a Whopping $50 from One of the Biker’s. No again this Wasn’t a Harley or an Indian nor was it some Asian Crotch Rocket it was just a Simple and Generic Looking Motorcycle. In Fact I don’t recall ever learning what Company did in fact make Tuck’s Motorcycle, but if I had to Guess The Motorcycle was a Small Company Leftover from the 70’s or Early 80’s. Most important of All the Motorcycle Tuck bought was in Fine Work Order and Ran Great so it wasn’t Destined to Sit Next to the Camaro for Eternity.

           

Once We returned to Tuck’s House We asked what He planned to do with His Newly Acquired Motorcycle seeing as it was running, But Not Street Legal by any means. Tuck informed Us He planned to Ride the Motorcycle as a New Hobby though He wasn’t going to get a Legal Motorcycle License, and He wan’t going to get a Insurance since He didn’t deem it Necessary. Lastly He wasn’t going to get a Legal Motorcycle License Plate for it either. When it came to the License Plate Tuck decided to Cut a Motorcycle License Plate Rectangle out of the Top of a Nike Sneakers Box. He then proceeded to make up a Fictitious License Plate Number, and literally Drew it On with a Black Sharpie.

Needless to Say one Afternoon while Tuck was out Joy Riding on His Motorcycle found Himself sitting at a Red Light when a Cop pulled Up Behind Him. Instead of figuring He was fucked and Should do whatever was in His best Interest as Far as the Police where concerned made a Different Decision. Tuck decided to say Fuck It, Turned Right, laid into the Accelerator, and Sped Off Down the Street like a motherfucker. The Police turn on Their Lights and Siren and immediately give Chase. It was a short pursuit as Tuck in all due Favor did manage to Outrun the Cop. Tuck drove Home and stashed the Bike out of Sight in the Backyard, and was coming around the Side of the House When He learned a Valuable Lesson. The Lesson was While You can conceivably Out Run a Cop You Can’t Out Run the Police Radio. As Tuck rounded the Side of The House He was greeted by the Two Police Officer’s who had Responded to the Fleeing Suspect Call, and at that point the Jig as They say was Up.

           

Luckily for Tuck the Police wrote the incident off to being Young and Dumb, and it didn’t hurt that one of the Officers was also a Big Time Gearhead. So instead of throwing the Book at Tuck for Running on Them He ended up getting $250 Fine and a Ton of Community Service (We’re talking 100 Hours or More I forget the Exact Number, But I assure You it wasn’t less than 100). The Funniest Part of the Whole Fiasco was at one Point Tuck was given a complete and thorough copy of the Police Report. We ended up reading over it one Night while Drinking 40’s of Crazy Horse Malt Liquor having one hell of a good a Laugh.

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober

Cartoons That Aren’t For Kids: The Bad Egg and Molton Light

We start this Installment of Cartoons That Aren’t For Kids with the Award Winning Cartoon “The Bad Egg” Directed by Bala Vikram Veturi. “The Bad Egg” is a Fable of Sorts if You Will, a Cautionary Tale that warns One against  the Consequences of Choosing Greed Over Need. That is to Say Choosing What You Want OVER What You Actually Need. Humanity has always, and especially in Today’s Times confused “Want” with “Need”.

A Prime Example of this is When the Wife of a Good Friend of Mine called Me up one Night Engulfed in Frustration. He Told Me that His Wife WANTED to Buy a New 90 inch TV to replace Their 60 Inch TV for NO OTHER REASON than She simply WANTED a Bigger TV in Reality.

When I asked My Friend about His Wife’s Reaction to Him stating the 90 inch TV was a Unnecessary (and bit impulsive) Purchase at the Time He told Me that once He started to Object She told Him that “They NEEDED the New TV.”, and Honestly thats Exactly what She Believed to be True. The Cliche that “Your Possessions End Up Owning You” could Never be Truer.

The Second Cartoon is Chad Van Gaalen’s “Molten Light” by Chad VanGaalen Who did The Animation as well as Providing the Music Accompaniment. “Molton Light” which also Serves as a Cautionary Tale of Revenge Warning One That Their are Consequences for One’s Actions. That and Some of Those Consequences can Hunt You Down and Kill You.

Hope You Enjoyed These Cartoon’s Cautionary Tales of Greed, Jealousy, Murder, Cannibalism, The Supernatural, and Revenge as Much as We Did.

 Presented By Les Sober

My Decade of Debauchery : The Foreshadowing Preface

After High School I didn’t have a fucking clue what the hell to do. I was young, and hated authority in any form. Needlessly to say I was jobless and had NO DESIRE to ever enter the Workforce. I had no desire to become one of those poor people who waste the prime years of their life at work only to retire and resent it. I drank like a fucking fish while smoking cigarettes excessively from the time I opened my eyes to the time I passed the fuck out. I was on numerous illicit substances usually a combination of several daily morning, noon or night. I was what is referred to as a “Functioning Drug Addict” which simply means I can party my ass off and still function.

I  was EXTREMELY Opinionated and not afraid to state it no matter where or when I had an opinion on every fucking thing there was or is. My Mother I remember took me aside one day and said,”You have to watch your mouth because unless someone REALLY knows you at some point you’ll insult, offend, shock or anger someone, and their going to turn around and punch you in the face.”

I lived at home with my Mother as by then my parents had been divorced for a couple years. I also had the habit off pissing off one of my parents after a few months and then bailing to go live with my other parent. This was great for at one point I was living with my Father in a Dope Apartment in the center of town over a fancy ass restaurant, and was never there because of work and he was dating a good bit ( I met several women who’s names and faces I forget and don’t mind that I’ve forgotten.) So I had the place all to my self I had the entire run of the place. I digress for now that that is a completely different set of Stories all together, and I plan to save for another time.

I also had an extreme impulsive control issues as I had none at the time, with a horrendous temper I inherited from my Father (R.I.P) Whatever I thought to say I said and whatever I thought to do I did immediately without a single thought about any possible consequences. It was also true I had a Knack for getting in trouble, but ultimately I never suffered any serious side effects (Example: Getting Arrested Numerous Times)

I knew I needed cash to fund my” Low Life” life style and feed my various addictions as the grew bigger and badder over time. I was what is referred to by Narcotics Anonymous as a “Garbage Can” meaning we didn’t have one particular drug we craved and indulged in as opposed to others. I did them them all. I did whatever I could get my deviant hands on because my true drug was MORE. I never cared what it was just give me MORE AND MORE, but I”ll never be satisfied. I did Cocaine (I snorted and injected it), Smoked Crack, Shot/ snorted Heroin, Dropped Acid (Paper or Liquid), Ate Ecstasy and MDMA, Crystal Meth, Peyote, Micro Dots, PCP, and the some pills such as Vicodin, Xanax, Valium, but thank fuck I got out of the drug game before Pain Pills became EXTREMELY POTENT and READILY AVAILABLE. The one addiction I’m glad I narrowly avoided is/was gambling as I’m positive I suck at it from the get go, and would have lost even more shit in my life than I did with the Drink and Drugs.

I don’t include Marijuana because I don’t consider it a drug and remain a daily smoker.

With no prospects for a future outside of our shitty little town that we both despised with people we fucking hated Armenian and I decided to Sell Drugs. I don’t personally consider Marijuana to be a drug, but unfortunately the DEA decides these matters. With that said we dealt mainly in Pot, LSD and PCP. If we didn’t have what you wanted at the time we knew where to get it. This lead to a  good bit of middle man work done on our part and of course charge a finders fee which could be paid in cash or stash we weren’t picky per say.

Now the Armenian was dating this girl E which meant it wasn’t just me and Armenian it was a goddamn package deal. On top of that bullshit we found out an acquaintance of ours named Guru who happened to be selling the same shit in the same area. Armenian and I decided joining forces was better than fighting for turf and customers, yet E was highly opposed to the idea and protested loudly. In spite of her opinion Armenian and I proposed to Guru our merger idea and we partnered up.

Thats Enough of That Now with More to Come.

Les Sober 

I Was A Teenage Murder Junkie pt.4: Salvation of the Streets

Mike shoved the doors of the basement delivery and much to our surprise they swung open like a $2.00 Hooker’s legs on pay day.  We bum rushed out of the confines of the basement show leaving the ensuing riot behind us. As we emptied onto the street it resembled the most messed up parade anyone could imagine. Several police cruisers were parked out front in various and precarious angles outside of the bar with their lights blazing as a handful of cops wandered around amidst the occupants of the bar. The regulars were at the outskirts of the crowd bitching about being separated from their beer and bar because of some punk kids shit show (that shouldn’t have ever been booked) as The Barfly was in deed a Bar not an actual show venue. The base of the crowd outside were not just the fan’s that attended the show, but an increasing amount of onlookers out from the shadows of the shitty streets they called home. It was quite obvious that there simply were not nearly enough police officers to accomplish much of anything accept a couple of initial arrests, and not getting killed in an already out of control situation that since they intervened seemed to only escalate more and more. Plainly put it was a numbers game and the police were well outnumbered.

Our small clan stood in a tight circle around GG who was beyond agitated and was now bordering on his usual redirect of hate against the entire fucking planet. All I remember from standing in that circle as we franticly threw together some resemblance of an escape plan that I was completely distracted by GG. Well not GG as much as the way he smelled to be more accurate. The pungent stench of stale beer, body odor, blood, feces and urine combined into a force all its own burning ones nostrils and causing ones eyes to water profusely. I have smelled rotting roadkill baking under the hellacious heat of a Texas summer heatwave that didn’t wreak nearly as bad or strongly as GG that night in the ally. The most immediate part of our plan if we were to escape unharmed in one piece and avoid incarceration was to camouflage GG like any anonymous fan. While the first responders found themselves out matched had inevitably radioed for much need back up, and GG was their main target. GG’s girlfriend grabbed a dirty bandana from out of a trash can in the ally and furiously started wiping the blood from GG’s head as well as face. The Mike contributed his leather biker jacket and one of the few other fans with donated a pair of cut off sweat pant shorts. GG took the fitly bloody bandana from Liz and fashioned it so it not only covered his shaved head but also obscured his eyes. With GG now dressed identically like one of his disenfranchised fans we slowly exited the ally into the main street. The police were to distracted by all the other bullshit going on they didn’t notice our exiting from the ally next to the bar. We started walking briskly in a tight knit group with GG on point. We made it all the half block down to the corner of the block without issue until we (moreover GG) was detected again not by the police or adoring fans, but by one of the amassed spectators on the opposite side of the street from the bar.

“GG IS FUCKING GOD!!” screamed the unknown onlooker like a fucking air siren circa World War II. Thats all it took to get the attention needed for the fans and mentality of the show to spill out onto the streets like blood from a severed artery. The fans and onlookers started to walk down the street in our direction, and unwanted attention. We managed to make it 3 blocks before GG decided to start engaging his following fans and assorted others like the onlookers. GG started by responding to the chants and screams of support which only served to rile the crowd into a further fury. We could hear the sounds of bottles breaking, trash cans being tossed and an assortment of other sounds of destruction as I began to worry that the incoming police back up might spot us thus ending our escape and starting the jailing process. GG didn’t seem to give a shit anymore as he continued to encourage the chaos. GG was leading the procession of misfits and deviants through the South Philly streets like a demented Pied Pipper leading his personal army of rats.

The only thing that finally got GG to snap back to reality and realize the true and present danger of the surrounding police was his desire to party. No surprise GG was a heavy drinker and endorsed drinking as well as drug use in any and all forms (GG also endorsed violence especially against authority) ,and his Achilles hill made him focused at the task at hand: Don’t get arrested (again) and get drunk/high. We soon realized walking wasn’t going to work as no one knew where we were or where we were going not to mention we were being escorted by a unruly gang of miscreants spreading destruction in their wake. I managed to wrestle a crumpled $20 bill from my tattered jeans and got Liz’s attention. I gave her the twenty and told her it was for cab fare to get GG out of here once and for all. We unfortunately had to walk several more blocks until we had a chance in hell of catching a cab in spite of the nights already tumultuous events. At last one of the few fans with us a small greasy guy (he was 5 foot nothing at best) with 5 o’clock shadow got ahead of us and managed to hail the only cab we had seen since arriving hours earlier. Liz jumped in the cab as fast as she possible could tugging on GG’s arm so hard it looked as if she was trying to dislocate GG’s fucking shoulder. GG paused as he entered the beat up gypsy cab and said angrily “Fuck you Philly!” and then preceded to getting the cab. As soon as GG was in the cab it took off like a bat out of hell with its ass on fire.

As I stood there watching as the cab barreled GG off into the night I thought to myself “I don’t know how the hell I ended up at a GG Allin show, but I was damn glad I came because you can’t make shit like this up.”

LSDeity

I don’t believe anyone knew his actual name but as kids we called him Smiley Jesus. You would only see him bare foot leisurely wondering through my and surrounding neighborhoods in summer. Besides the bare feet he also preferred to be shirtless wearing a red pair of 1970 high school gym class shorts like a personal uniform. Obviously looking like the traditional white version of christianity’s Jesus along with his penchant for constantly smiling earned him the nickname Smiley Jesus.

I found out from my father years down times long twisting road a basic backstory biography about Smily Jesus. First off he didn’t find ANY OF THIS OUT for Smiley Jesus NEVER spoke a single word as far as any of us knew he just paced around smiling and not bothering anyone at all.

My father had found out from some of our neighbors that Smiley Jesus occasionally mowed various peoples lawn for cheap. My father admitted he had hired Smiley Jesus to cut our lawn BUT said it was by far the strangest social interaction of his life. My father went on to explain that Smiley Jesus only spoke a sentence or two max and was unable to answer basic questions pertaining to cutting lawns he would just stare vacantly not saying a single thing. Also in spite of the reference no one told my father Smiley Jesus’s real name ,and he never found it out on his own. Some how the two of them managed to do business so to speak a few times over the summers.

Now a friend of our next door neighbor was in fact also a dear friend of Smiley Jesus’s family and knew what his story actually in fact was. Again his actual name was not mentioned as he was referred to during the conversation as he and the story’s bottom line was this. Smiley Jesus was a strait A student (that was a member of even fucking club and School events) a well rounded over achiever who upon graduating high school was accepted to Princeton University back in the late 60’s. Smiley Jesus excelled in chemistry (on a rocket scientist level) and had access to a full laboratory ,and he for some unknown reason started manufacturing LSD. That was until one batch he made was systematically fucked up, or in plain english a “bad batch”. Apparently Smiley Jesus didn’t know about or decided not to use a volunteer genie pig and tested his product personally. Needless to say he totally fried his fucking brain and destroyed any possible future he had.

I’m ending the story there with no wise life lesson or tragic hero sob story, or cautionary tale shit. The guy made a bad life decision and fucked over his life.