Observational Comedy – Page 2

The Alienation of Alaska

Lets face it there are only 3 different types of People that reside in the Beautifully Brutal Environment of Alaska. Life even in the most populated places in Alaska (like Anchorage for example) day to day life provides a bleak existence cut off from the rest of the Civilized World.

The Weather with its prolonged Winters, Bizarre Daylight Issues, and Freezing Temperatures is only one reason that Regular People visit, but don’t move to Alaska.

The Other is the effects of the Extreme Isolation, a virtual Plague of Loneliness and Absolute Alienation.

Living that remotely removed from Established Society can wreak havoc on a Persons Sanity causing anything from Paranoia, Aggression, Crippling Depression, Psychosis, Hallucinations (Auditory as well as Visual), and Delusional Thinking, and thats not nearly all.

Point Being Cabin Fever is VERY REAL.

So considering its Foreboding Reputation based on the Harsh Reality of Life in Alaska it truly takes a particular type of person to not just live but even exist there. For Anyone that is not just willing to, but that can also successfully endure the Alienation (and the untamed Wilderness) that is Alaska.

You might be thinking to yourself who ARE the 3 types of People be one might ask themselves, and heres the answer for those who are wondering.

Now the First Personality Type of living in Alaska is quite obviously the Inuits who are the Indigenous Native People of Alaska whose Families, and Ancestor’s have lived long before recorded time. So it makes perfect sense why they call Alaska Home.

The Second Personality Type that inhabits the grand State of Alaska are the detrimentally Anti-Social motherfuckers.

I’m talking text fucking book Anti-Social Personality Disorder which is one of the most destructive disorders ever Diagnosed. This disorder can cause (One, Some or All) behavioral problems such as Deceitfulness, Hostility, Aggression, Impulsivity, Irritability, Lack of Restraint, Manipulativeness, Lying, and lack of regard for Their or Others Safety.

These are simply those People who are SO FUCKED in the Head that they CAN’T and Won’t be a Part of any Society whatsoever.

The Last Personality Type One finds living in Alaska are Those People who are running from something, and that something is usually the Law. And why not Alaska is a perfect place to go if One doesn’t want to be found, it is for all intensive purposes Off The Grid.

Now not all of These People are hardened Criminals, some are running to avoid IRS Problems or are Dead Beat Asshole Dads escaping the obligation of Child Support.

Don’t get Me wrong Though there plenty of Seriously Hardcore Criminals that came to Alaska to avoid Prosecution. Gang Members, Members of Organized Crime, Murderers, Drug Dealers, and Sex Offenders all using Alaska as a last refuge outside of a Life In Prison.

In Summation the 3 Personality Types That Dwell in Alaska are The Indigenous Natives The Inuit, Anti-Social Basket Cases, and Assorted Criminals/Criminal Elements.

So Come VISIT ALASKA because living there SUCKS BIG TIME.

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober

Yay cinema! part uno

Every since I can remember I have always been a sucker for a great movie. I will literally drop everything when one of my favorites comes onto my television. I will do what I call the G rated Hollywood cyber stalk when I come across any new actor or actress I’ve discovered who can act and is pleasing to the eye. I will literally pan down the list of movies someone has been in and try to watch as many as possible in that one day. Clearly, this has made my amount of blog posting suspect at best or if we are being total honest non-existent.

There is no real great recollection of my first movie. When it comes to theaters, that movie was E.T. I cried at the end though I really cannot remember. Literally the next thing I remember about movies is making characters that I thought should be in movies. Not in specific movies. In my movies.

I would see these people in my head while in somewhat of a meditative condition. They would tell me all kinds of intricate details about their lives, their dreams, hopes, desires. Of course, since I was 12 and had little knowledge of the world, these were not exactly groundbreaking. I hid them from everyone. I had suspicions that my parents were reading any little thing I ever wrote and I really did not want them seeing.

So all my childhood characters and playmates ran away. In the beginning they simply made their way to the trash can. Later in my teenage years, the pyromania took full effect and they were always burned. Sometimes by a chant, sometimes by the dead silence of the night, it was a way to let them go again. I didn’t need them taking space in my head just in case they were some kind of malevolent spirit.

For a very long time all of these people, characters, and even a few animals went away. Perhaps it was my dabbles in drugs (or lack thereof as I had rampant visions during my teenage nuclear winter years), my self-deprecation gone awry, or modern technology sucking the life out of me. Most likely it was just everything pilling up into some great big shitstorm all at once.

Then something started to change in the past week. It all started with a seizure. I always portend seizures as a sign of change or trouble and I was not sure exactly what this one would bring. The majority occur when I am passed out or crunk as fuck so it honestly was quite the surprise. Luckily I was seated and it was relatively mild, no loss of consciousness, no loss of surroundings.

Afterwards things began to take remarkable change in my life. I noticed myself laughing again and honesty could not remember the last time I seriously laughed at the complete mundaneness of the world.

Something opened up inside of me. It was almost sexual in nature but without any arousal. It felt like being proud of having snagged someone for the night who is out of your league. It felt like passionately kissing a former lover at the train station never to see them again. Waving goodbye at them with the passion of 19th century mob at a departing ship. A few fake I loves exchanged was the cherry on top of your amicably departing orgasms.

Yet this wasn’t sexual. This was more. This was everything. Yeah sure the internal sadness is still here but it’s kind of like this eternally pestering buzzing noise in my apartment. It can always be drowned out. I was doing a decent job swimming until last night.

That is when it all changed yet again.

To be continued…..

By SpaceDog

Don’t Tell Me My Dick is Crooked When It’s Perfectly Straight

I did my least favorite thing in the world yesterday. I went to a new doctor. In the past when I have gone to new doctors, I have always looked at them as these great big ancient buildings like the Colisseum or the Great Sphinx, marvelous and magnificent but crumbling and old.

Well getting older sucks because all my youthful indiscretions about doctors being these relics of the past are becoming fantasy. I had a doctor who actually listened to me and asked questions. One that actually typed fast and knew how to work a computer. She even used a smartphone. I know I should expect this out of people in the world we are in today especially from someone younger than me but I sort of live in my own universe.

I never see anyone out in public paying with their phone. When I use my phone to pay with pretty much anything people look at me in awe or say they do not accept that as payment. Honey, the cash register don’t lie. Look I payed with my phone. I am some kind of Houdini. Not really. I just have loved tech from the day I first even knew such a thing existed.

Anyway back to this doctor. The reason I do not see a whole hell of a lot of doctors is because for every one doctor I see am always told to go see about 10 other specialists. Well it is more like about 4 I mean it is only about that many body parts or areas of mine that do not work and mainly that is because I am a fat lazy fuck.

It was just highly amusing being told all this, because being told all this was basically the reason I stopped seeing my last set of doctors. You seemingly have no idea what is wrong with me and then tell me to see about 5 other doctors. Listen… I know I am fucked in the head, have no semblance of time, space and reality… or sentence structures…

or paragraphs.

I know my teeth suck, my eye twitches somewhat, I walk like a Hunchback, I say inappropriate things, have a slightly abnormal heart, and smoke like the Marlboro man. I came for you about my stomach. I mean if you wanted to destroy my prostate I would understand but don’t tell me to stop pissing in the sink when I came to you about the leak in my roof…

Anyway people in general need to stop pretending they can offer you the world or give two shits about every aspect of your being when all they care about is a diagnostic code, a pharmacy refill, and their direct deposit.

Who knows if I go back….the anxiety kills. The pain is still real. I thought about getting high on god knows what for the first time in about 10 years because well you know doctors want to know every drug you ever tried as a teenager. Well goddamn it how about all of them. I was a curious little fucker.

The only reason I am not curious about random drugs now is they haven’t made any good new ones in the past 20 years. Maybe longer. That’s for another hour. Another post. Also well they do have these things called teenagers now too. They are good for new music, friending on social media and looking at the 18/19 famous pretty ones. Never make contact with one in person however as they may and will ask for cigarettes, alcohol purchases, or if they are trying to fuck one of your friends they tend to come down with a massive case of can’t shut the fuckupitis.

Done. For now. No idea…. brain malfunction….

A Hard Sell Apology

My Mother has been lurking around her basement as well as attic, and along the way she keeps finding fossils from My childhood during Her adventures. (I’m not so sure if My Brother is being subjected to this or if He dodged this particular bullet?!)

When My Mother finds something She thinks is especially special She is taking a photo and then texting it to me along with Her 2 cents worth.

Her exceptional find for today was indeed odd. It seems to be a letter I typed, and then I signed at the bottom by hand. From the content I believe I had to write this because I was beating up or tormenting my Little Brother Phil.

After reading this little bit of personal history I have decided to post it here Verbatim Any Names of course have been changed as I believe in getting a person’s permission before using their name in a Post, and in this case I have not.

Ladies and Gentlemen I give you now, THE LETTER!

I agree NOT to Push, Pull, Poke, Hit, Smack, Kick, Bite, Curse, Shoot, Ax, Knife, Mutilate, Kill, Smash, Bash, Mow*, Choke, Assault or in any other way Inflict Bodily Harm on the 2nd party being Phil.

If I break this agreement I promise I will write Phil a letter of apology.

Sincerely Les*

(1* When it comes to MOW I sure I meant Mow him over with a Lawn Mower.)

(2* I love the omission of a comma between Sincerely and Les.)

Thanks for READING,

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

Go Home Hunter Boy Before You Get Hurt

If anyone has any doubt that I Love my Wife too No End Yesterday Proved it beyond any and all reasonable doubt. For those that know me what I’m about to say next is Far Beyond Bizarre, but My Wife has a variety of Holiday projects/Crafts for the kids in our Family that both required the same exact component Pine Cones. Yes I fucking went on a walk with my Wife to collect the very much needed Pine Cones.

There is a dirt road behind our backyard that separates our neighborhood from the neighborhood that neighbors ours (say the shit 5 times fast). The dirt road since it was built has been designated as a Public Road. This is due to the fact people use it for a wide assortment of reasons. Golf carts putter back down that road with little trailers filled with limbs or logs that the driver intends on dumping. There People who walk down the road doing the nature thing, kids use it to cut through between the two neighboring neighborhoods, People walk there dogs on that road, Trucks towing boats/small rv’s/ATVs use that road either to assist in getting there boat or whatever out of their backyards or as an access road to go between both neighborhoods visiting friends/family. Point being it is a rather well used road.

My Wife and I exited the backyard (deciding to leave the Our Big Backyard Dwelling Dogs at Home as walking them is a real labor of love) and proceeded down the road Pine Cone collection bags in hand. While you walk on the road you can see right into the residents backyards and can see the trails they have made to move recreational toys (ATVS, Boats Etc.). The woods separating the two said neighborhoods is like a small, narrow Triangle thats narrowest point is behind our house and as you travel the woods on both side of the road thicken to a decent degree.

After walking around five minutes I saw something on the right next to the side of the road (No not Puppies and that for those who know that reference was a different dirt road) that honestly exclaim “What The Fuck?!” it was so utterly insane for me to see. Here I must mention it is still Deer Hunting Season and what I saw lying buy the side of the road was a Deer Baiting Area. A Deer Baiting area is simply a small clearing usually near the hunters blind (A ladder with a small seat attached to the top that gives the hunter the advantage of height over their pray) and consists of only one other thing outside of a clearing, and thats Corn. Hunters can buy 25 to 50 pound bags of Livestock Corn (for animal feed, not human consumption) on the Cob which they then dump in a large pile in the clearing. The Hunter then retreats to his/her hunting blind to wait for hungry Deer to come by for a bite to eat at which point the Hunter shoots them (Not very sporting you ask me the gun toting camouflaged assholes) There was a sapling growing approximately 3 feet back from the piled corn that had a Trap Camera. They are the cameras that hunters strap to trees that have motion sensors so when anything enters the cameras view it will automatically take photos. This way hunters can see if their animals around that area worth hunting.

My first instinct was to 1) Piss all over the corn rendering it useless for baiting Deer and 2) Ironically to take my big old hunting knife and cutting the camera down. I then would of course take it with me to teach this Massive Moron that hunting SO fucking close to people is a common sense issue, and if this ignorant ass idiot doesn’t have any or is not using their common sense then I’d help them figure it out so to speak.

Now not only was it shocking to see the such monumental stupidity, but on top of hunting on a well used PUBLIC road in-between to large, populated neighborhoods (where kids play, parents do lawn work and grandparents sit on the porch throughout the lazy country days.) the Deer Baiting area was only a mere 100 feet from one of the off shoots that people use for their aforementioned recreational toys. These off shoots lead right into someones backyard or directly behind several house’s backyards as these are the established unofficial travel/transportation paths.

My Wife managed to talk me down and I left the hunters spot and gear undamaged still reeling from the sheer fucking stupidity of said hunter. We walked another several blocks down the dirt road until we inadvertently ran into the actual Hunter. At this point I must interject that I grew up in Sleezy North, spent the last 13 years in the Great Southern Swamp, and spending 10 years as a Hardcore Drug Dealing Drug Addict have been exposed to all kinds of weapons and the madness wielding them. Due to this this fact this hunter has a rifle didn’t phase me in the least. In all honestly in came down to one thing in particular and thats the “3 feet Rule” which dictates if someone one has a rifle 1) You have a knife/weapon/good with your fists 2) MORE IMPORTANTLY if your within a 3 foot radius the hunter can’t get his gun up, aimed and fired before your onto of them with your knife in their fucking neck.

The hunter emerged from the left side of the road about 15 feet infant of us and then proceeded to walk directly at us with his rifle in a resting position across his belly. I was already well pissed off so I wasn’t about to take any shit from this fuck. See Hunters are EXTREMELY TERRITORIAL and EXTREMELY PROTECTIVE of their hunting grounds. This means that if you accidentally wonder onto private land and come across the owner hunting you’ll get one of two reactions. The first if its a younger hunter they’ll be rude, agitated and loud when they inform you of your mistake. The second is if its an older hunter they will be strict but fair in that they’ll let you know they aren’t happy that you showed up on their land (especially while hunting), BUT will be polite enough not to rant and rave and will instruct you to leave their land ASAP and not return.

The hunter was a young guy, about 5′ 8″, 140-150 pounds, intensely blonde almost white hair poking out from under his hunting cap. He was cloaked in camo and was carrying a black .22 caliber hunting rifle. Like I said younger hunters can be pricks and this guy seemed to be a petty prick. No hello or anything the hunter demanded to know what we were doing. This is a PUBLIC road so as far as I was concerned he had no rights hunting or otherwise so I walked up to him stopping short of a foot from his face, and answered “Picking Fucking Pine Cones.” in my deep dead pan manner while staring intently at the hunter. No one in the Southern Country curses while in the presence of others so my barrage of foul and aggressive swearing confused the hunter who seemed to find the whole obscenity thing unnerving.

The hunter responded that we were messing up his hunting by walking down the road spooking all the possible prey that he could kill. My Wife called him out on the fact this is a PUBLIC ROAD and the Hunter looked at the ground and sort of shook his head. I jumped in and demanded to know that if we had accidentally walked onto his land then he should be able to show me the property line. I continued that I find it very strange that his family hadn’t set up signifiers along said property line allowing others to distinguish between public and private land. The usual and accepted way to do this is by Posting “Private Property: NO Trespassing, Hunting, Fishing or Dumping (garbage)” on trees approximately 15 feet apart along the ENTIRE property line. Also there bright neon ties that are fashioned around trunks off trees along the property line as another signifier of private property. Lastly since this was a road there would be a gate of some sort blocking off the part of the road that fell on private property. I asked the hunter why there was none of these and he couldn’t obviously answer being the fact he was fucking lying through his fucking teeth, and I wanted to let him know he was fucked because he couldn’t bullshit us.

I then addressed the fact that he was hunting in EXTREMELY Proximity to people that it was equal to hunting in their backyard. I then asked how the fuck he’d feel if his stupidity got a kid/person/elderly person wounded or killed because of his GROSS INCOMPETENCE. Again the hunter remained speechless. I asked if he had an actual hunting permit, what his family name was (to verify if it was in some sort of way his family’s private land) and while I was interrogating the hunter relentlessly I made sure to stand no farther than a foot away. I also made sure to stay standing to his side in his blind spot. I did this because when he looked at my Wife he had to take his eyes off me to the point where he couldn’t see me even in his peripherals, and as you may image makes people quite nervous as it did this Hunter.

I suppose they hunters plan was to try and act all authoritarian with us and try and intimidate us by bullshitting that this was his/his family private property, and that combined with a rifle in hand should have been enough to run us off if you will. Needless to say then that this was not a response he ever thought he’d get. The little shit then asks us to please leave by walking the rest of the road until it emptied into part of my neighborhood instead of back tracking which would have been a 5 minute walk for us. Some people could call me paranoid others could call me safe, but I agreed to exit the hunters way though it was a huge fucking inconvenience because I didn’t want the little shit to know where I live.

We exited the wooded road and walked all the way home. As we approached our house I had an idea. While crossing the lawn I fetched my car keys from my pocket and walked directly to my Jeep. I got in my Jeep drove it down the dirt road a few blocks and then laid on my horn like a New Yorker possessed by a insane fit of road rage insuring there wouldn’t be a single fucking chipmunk left in the wood for the hunter to hunt thus fucking up the rest of his hunting day.

Thanks For Reading,

Les Sober

I Don’t Drink That: Beer Blues

I’m simply sick and tired of friends and family that know me best chronically forgetting what alcohol(s) I drink, they all should damn well know better by now. So I’m at the point where the only goddamn thing I can do (having exhausted all other options) is to actually put it in Black & White.

Wine: No, I don’t drink Wine. Now lets be clear I have drank a fair share of Wine before in my life and I enjoy the drunk, BUT Wine hates the hell out of me. The worst most hellacious hangovers I have ever had the misery of experiencing were all from drinking Wine. I drank only Red Wine, I detest the taste of White Wine, and I sure a hell never drank any god forsaken Pink Wine bullshit.

Shots: No Not Any More. I used to do shots of Vodka or Whiskey but gave them both up as shots seemed to excellerate bouts of drunken insanity or black outs.

Punches/Niche Drinks: Hell to the No. I don’t care about Ancient Alcohols, Medical Meads, Roman Receipts or BC Boozes. Save that shit for the fare fans of Renaissance Fairs.

Cocktails: No with the acceptation of a Captain & Coke once in a blue moon or perhaps a Mojito ever several blue moons. Especially now a days as cocktails are making a massive comeback, I have no need for artisan cocktails. In my opinion Bitters are Bullshit, Garnishes of pickled Jalapeño or Candied Bacon are drink drama, infusions (example wood smoke) are for Idiots and Muddling is for Morons. I don’t want to watch my Bartender spend 15 minutes making a drink like he’s a member of Circus Du Soleil.

Malt Liqueurs and Fortified Wines: I don’t drink Mad Dog 20/20, Old English, King Cobra, Crazy Horse, Thunderbird, Ripple, Red Rose or Boone’s Farm because I’M NOT IN FUCKING HIGH SCHOOL. That combined with the fact I’m also not WHITE TRASH or HOMELESS.

Hard Ciders/Sodas/Lemonades: No Way, No How. The concepts are cool but they don’t translate from paper to reality. Hard Ciders taste like fermented/spoiled Apple Juice thats been sitting in your grandmothers garage for several years.

Moonshine: Never Again. If you drink Moonshine you won’t be back to your self for at least 48 hours.

Beer: YES, WE HAVE A WINNER. I primarily drink Domestic Beers but I do like a few Imports as well as Craft Beers.

I like a couple Micro Brews, but their accessibility is restricted to geographical location.

I Hate IPA’s and other similar beers like Black And Tans, Bitter Beer is Bitch Beer in my mind.

I primarily drink Lagers and Ales, I hate Wheat Beers because after you drink a couple you feel like you fucking drank a huge loaf of bread.

I also HATE shit like seasonal beers like Pumpkin brews I mean Pumpkin WTF is wrong with you?

So thats I Official Alcohol Intake Mission Statement,

Thanks For Reading,

Les Sober.

For Shits & Giggles: The Low Country List

Here is a list of a few things I personally find endearing and welcome as part of a simpler way of living. Yet most people it is safe to say would have a rough time adjusting to.

No Night Life by 10:00pm EVERYTHING is closed including Gas Stations.
Its a little more half hour drive to find a Fast Food Restaurant.
Having direct access to Killer BBQ thats only Available 2 days a week (Friday and Saturday 11am to 9pm)

4. There is No Trash Pick Up. You have to load your trash up in your car/truck and drive it to the Local Dump (Closed on Sundays and Wednesdays)

5. You can drive 60 mph where ever you need to possibly go.

6. There is not a single Traffic Light in the tiny town I live in, 1 Street Light in a near by neighboring town, and the town directly next to us holds the record for Traffic Lights at a grand total of 2.

7. There is No Food Deliveries. Not even the token Pizza Place or Chinese Restaurant will deliver so whatever you order you have to pick up so you need to keep your eye on the clock like I said shit closes here early.

8. There No Street Lights. When your driving its PITCH BLACK the only things you can see are the stars and your head lights.

9. Hospitals are not local nor near by. The Hospital ER I had to visit while down here getting married was an hour and a half away from town.Luckily for me my Wife is an Insanely Smart and wildly Intelligent RN.

10. There is only a single Veterinarian there are No other Veterinary options as there are no Animal Emergency Hospitals either. Our Local Vet is a tough as nails 82 year old man who’s mind is as sharp as his wit, but just like the Wild West once he is no longer practicing then the question is Who Will?

11.There is a VERY SMALL Police Presence so Owning (and knowing how to use) a gun or several Guns is considered the logical thing to due in these parts. When We first moved here our extremely rural town of 344 residents spread out through the Southern Country had on 1 Police Officer. Think about that for a minute its mind bending. Our town now as of 3 months ago hired a second Police Officer. That math means only one Police Officer is on duty at a time. Again take a minute to wrap your mind around that little ditty. There are surprisingly more Cancelled Weapons Permits issued here as there are in The Great Souther Swamp, but the attitude here on the subject are in direct contrast to one another. Here people keep Gun Ownership (including Shot Guns and Rifles not just Handguns) to themselves they don’t broadcast it to the fucking world. In The Swamp its a bunch of moronically macho cowboys running around with assault Rifles and shit bragging none stop trying to trick the world into not finding out how small his dick actually is.

12. Everyone has Well Water as the Public Water Works won’t extend their services to remoter areas.

13. People talk and interact with each other, when your out you won’t see a single Lap Top or Tablet. You won’t find people stumbling around with their heads buried in the Smart Phones, in fact its hard to find someone just making a phone call on a Smart Phone.

14. Here Cash is still King, Paying with Plastic is not the norm by far.

There are no Fire Hydrants. This is something you wouldn’t even actually notice until it was pointed out to you by your Insurance Company. Its an Insurance issue because if your house is remotely located (the County doesn’t extend their Fire Hydrant services that far),and the small Fire Station is going to take quite awhile its safe to assume if your house catch on fire theres a HUGE RISK of it burning to the ground.

15. If you need other certain services such as say an Exterminator you ay have to wait a bit because if you live in a remoter location they don’t want to come all the way out for just one call so they bundle them if you will.

16. Lastly, and this I have come to HATE is due to our remote rural geography the Major Internet Providers like Verizon, Adelphi, Comcast, At&t etc. don’t provide service because they aren’t enough people to cover costs and make what they deem as a good profit margin. So what the hell does that mean, well I’ll tell you. It means you have to take a technology specific time machine back to fucking 1982 by which I mean SATELLITE SERVICE. Its pretty fucking safe to say that since 1982 there have been few to none improvements in technology and thus service. Its the same bullshit now as it was then if it rains the service gets sketchy or just cuts out. Now back in the day it was just your cable that went out but with the greedy bundling bastards of today now you Land Line (cell phone service is shady at best, here calls get dropped on a daily basis) Cable AND INTERNET go out. The part that irritates me the most is not only do I have to rely on OUT DATED Technology with Sub Par Service(s) because there is only one Satellite Provider is costing me 3 fucking times more than it did in The Great Southern Swamp.

Thats All For Now Folks, Thanks For The Read

Les Sober

Our Exodus From The Great Southern Swamp Once & For All

As all these stories start we woke at dawn (or the ass crack off dawn for my fellow non morning friends) and proceeded to try to drink Dunkin Doughnuts out of coffee. We had to wait until 11 am before we could pick up the small army of Uhaul trailers the reason being our Slumlord wouldn’t allow us to park the vehicles in the parking lot overnight like an asshole. So we set out to finish “Tidying Up” and do last minute patching, painting and deep cleaning while we waited. I don’t personally have the patience to wait which is why I hate waiting. Patience is a virtue I was born without.

Finally we get the Uhauls lined up out front of the office and for the next 4 hours did nothing but load the trucks up one after the other. We then packed up our office animal and put rubber to asphalt. Just our luck The Great Southern Swamp had one more fuck you for us as we made our final escape. The entire east side of The Great Southern Swamp was hit with a series of brutal tropical storms. The storms were so intense you couldn’t see the tail lights of the car 6 feet in front of you thus slowing down our progress severely. After battling the tropical storms for almost 8 hours we crossed the state line leaving the Great Southern Swamp looming in our review mirrors.

The rest of the trip to the Southern Country went relatively smooth in spite of god knows how many fueling stops, bathroom breaks and other minor difficulties. We reached our new home office (which since moving have decided to dub “The Black Lodge” a tribute to the band Anthrax, what I told you I’m older than dinosaur shit?!) a little past 3 am and were needless to say exceptionally glad to have reached our destination and get the hell off the road. As we started to unload My Wife suddenly informed me the only key we had was missing. We stumbled around road weary and some what sleep deprived (everyone was excited about the move so no one really got any thing resembling actual sleep) looking in vain for the lost key. It was the brought to my attention there was a back up emergency key stashed about 30 minutes away. Not thrilled in the least my Wife and I got in our car, leaving the kids (staff) and critters on the front porch of The Black Lodge. Once we reached the house where our emergency key was at we had to enter the code given to us by the owner to shut off the security alarm. Needless to say in our delirious state we instead of shutting the alarm off we set it off. I can not begin to describe the sound this alarm made it was not only deafening (even with your fingers in your ears so far their tickling your brain) and disorienting in it self. It was so insanely loud we actually could think coherently, it was like the kind of shit the police/military/government agencies do when they blast music to end a standoff.

I managed to hold my shit together long enough to clock the alarm company’s phone number off the alarm box and ran across the street to call them. The alarm company was cool as shit and the problem was taken care of, well that one at least. My Wife then went in to retrieve our emergency key and I shit you not it wasn’t there. I then tried to contact the owner which took awhile being at that point it was around quarter to 4 in the morning. I did catch up with the owner in the end who then informed me they had our key with them. The only issue with that was the owner was on vacation in motherfucking Las Vegas which obviously left us high and dry.

With no other option my Wife and I got back in the car once again and headed back to The Black Lodge. Once we arrived we informed the Kids (Staff) we would be sleeping in the same vehicles we were so happy to get out of in the first fucking place. Fortunately that would only translate to approximately 4 hours or so because it turned out our contractor still had a copy of our key which we retrieved at 8:30 am the next day.

All in All it seems like a fitting end to our chapter in The Great Southern Swamp and our the start of our new chapter here in The Southern Country.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

Handyman Herb the Heinous Handyman’s Man

As my Wife and I were prepping/ repairing our little house in the Great Southern Swamp we had a list of certain handyman jobs (i.e. Hanging a Door, Patch a Wall, Replace some damaged base boards etc.) very basic tasks. Awhile back when we had a similar list we had contacted a local general handyman named Handyman Herb. Herb obviously didn’t graduate at the head of his class, but he was capable of doing elementary tasks with decent prices. So when we found ourselves in need of handyman services again we called Handyman Herb. My Wife talked to him via the phone and told him what we needed done and then scheduled for him to stop by on the coming Monday at 9:00 am.

My Wife was working that Monday leaving me to handle Herb which made me a bit wary. I have no illusions about my unruly behavior at times with other people especially if they annoy or disappoint me. Little did I know that Monday would test all of my strength to keep from going absolutely bat shit crazy on the entire known fucking world.

9:00 am Monday comes and no Handyman Herb. Twenty minutes later I have to hit up the shitter and did so as fast as possible incase Herb finally decided to show the fuck up for work. As I was walking back from the crapper my cell phone went off, it was Handyman Herb.

Now I thought Herb was calling to apologize for being late and would then give me a realistic ETA, but that wasn’t the case. Handyman Herb had brought a belligerent attitude with him, and as soon as I answered he demanded to know if someone was indeed home. Well I thought to myself your talking to me and theres a car parked out front so yeah I’m fucking here. I informed Herb that I was the only one home and I had to hit up the pisser (not to mention HE was now 30 minutes late but asshole didn’t want to talk about that shit) Herb responds by grumping like a gimp that he knocked and that he was now in fact here.

I already felt my blood pressure rising as a serious pet peeve of mine is if I’m paying you DO YOUR JOB (i.e. SHOW UP ON TIME) and BE A FUCKING PROFESSIONAL. You come to work for me leave your bullshit at the door. I instinctively started to text my Wife to channel the increasing irritation and shitty speculation of the Handyman Herb situation.

I opened the door to let Herb in (apparently he had brought a sidekick assistant who resembled a English Bulldog in both looks and mentality) as Herb entered it was BLATANTLY FUCKING OBVIOUS by the SCOWL on his face and agitated body language that this shit show had just begun. I gave the repair list containing 10 issues that needed to be addressed/remedied hoping at this point that Captain Crap-a-tude would just shut the hell up and get to work. Nope that didn’t happen.

Handyman Herb and his Sidekick proceeded to slowly pace around my house aimlessly assessing the project list. Not only are Herb and Sidekick wasting more time but their actively bitching about the jobs on the list like what a pain in the ass they may or may not be. This horseshit went on for 10-12 minutes as I continued to text my Wife updating her on the on going circus of shit as it unfolded.

Then shit really started to go down hill. Every fucking job that was on the list (which my Wife discussed with him one on one via the phone) in his opinion wasn’t an problem/worth fixing. The biggest issue was his total lack of preparedness. Herb read down the list while he moseyed around my house like a vagrant informing me that he didn’t have the tools for each said job. Around number 7 on the list Herb try to switch the blame for his grossly unprofessional bullshit was actually my Wife’s fault. Blaming my Wife (not to mention like I said I was in the room when the 2 of them talked on the phone so he’s lying to my fucking face) was a massive mistake.

Even then I was still straining with every fucking fiber of my being to get something productive done and not shit all over Not So Handy Herb and his wide eyed, mute, mouth breathing sidekick. As I mentioned earlier I was feverishly texting my Wife about not only what the hell was going on but my reaction(s) to it all. Losing my composure bit by bit I had started to fight fire with fire. I tensed up my body language to match Herb’s, started to angrily glare, and started to say things with a bad attitude. Example “I don’t give a damn about why nothing can get done, I need someone to fix this shit because I’m getting the fuck out of this shithole state.” Herb remained oblivious.

She was very cool about the whole deal as usually in these situations she is the one struggling to get me to chill out. When it got to the point that I texted her “I’m SO fucking done with Herb, I’m about to kick him and his shitty attitude out of the fucking house, she wrote back “O.K. kick him out then and we’ll call someone who appreciates the work.”

I can not BEGIN to explain how INSANELY HAPPY that text made me. I immediately tracked Herb down where he was lingering in my house like a foul fart. I then addressed Herb and the current crap shoot by saying the following:

“Obviously this ISN’T working for ME or YOU so the best thing for you (Herb) is to GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE and take Sidekick Shitkicker with you.”

The immense relief and total wave of satisfaction in absolving myself of these two wannabe handyman half wits was the definition of utter bliss.