Observational Comedy – Page 4

The Time I Almost Became a Accidental Nazi

When I was much younger I made plenty of detrimental desions thats no mystery. I was somewhere between 52-72 when one of the shittier choices I made was spending time at a local bar called The Brass Bollocks which was run by a Biker named Finely. Finely was in fact a well respected member of the community who was quick to help anyone in need and do whatever he could to fix peoples problems. In spite of Finley’s friendly reputation and welcoming nature his bar was a different story all together, and it had a reputation of its own.

The Brass Bollocks was not only a Biker Bar it just so happened to fall on a highly disputed territorial line that was constantly being fought over. The two gangs who were involved in the ongoing battle were The Heathens on one side of the line and The Brood on the other. This rivalry led to an uncountable number of drunken fights, brawls and beatings along with a handful of stabbings. For this reason Finley was in the habit of hiring unaffiliated Bikers as bouncers to work the door on busier nights.

There as one might be apt to imagine The Brass Bollocks was full of colorful and delinquent individuals who frequented the bar on a daily basis, and I love people watching so I was completely at home. It also helped I knew all the bartenders, Finley and the bar’s head bouncer ( who went by Big Dick) as well as a few regular patrons. One of the barfly bunch was a young twenty something guy by the name of Caucasian who’s second home was The Brass Bollocks. Caucasian always sat at the end of the bar farthest from the front door surrounded by a small group of associates who all dressed in black T-shirts with Metal bands or Biker shit on them. So I being young and a drinker just took it at face value that Caucasian and crew where in deed Bikers and paid it no more mind.

One night after a particularly rowdy night down at The Brass Bollocks I found myself back at my apartment along with Caucasian, Big Dick and there were 3-4 other people there but I haven’t a clue who the hell they were then or now (so that sucks for them). We were hanging out pounding beers, shooting the shit, and ripping through fat lines of cocaine when Big Dick remembered I liked to write. Big Dick suggested I show Caucasian a current piece I was working on and I thought fuck it why not. The piece was a violently distorted version of the game show “Press Your Luck” in the guise of a new Japanese gameshow where if you landed on a Whammy the contestant would be killed in creatively cruel and gorgeously gory fashions. The piece was a tribute to the absolutely awesome, wildly insane and often violent or humiliating world of Japanese gameshows which I’m a massive fucking fan. Caucasian really liked the piece to no end to say the least and asked if I could print out a copy for him. I printed a copy and handed it to Caucasian without a second thought as we all proceeded to keep partying until the light of day.

A week or two later at The Brass Bollocks Caucasian asked if I was interested in getting my gameshow piece published in a small magazine. Caucasian went on to explain that again it was just a small magazine, but popular locally having a small audience, and he knew the Chief Editor who he had shown my work already. Bottom line Caucasian said is if I was interested to let him know in the next couple of days about the possible publishing. I said sure thing and went about my day like any other. Over the next couple of days from time to time would find myself debating should or shouldn’t I have my writing published ending up each time totally indifferent.

A few days later again down at The Brass Bollocks I was having a beer and mulling over my decision to say yes and thusly having something I wrote published for all its worth. A woman named Birdie who I had seen here and there around the bar yet had never as much as said hello to her approached me. She sat down at the bar next to me and introduced herself she was the best friend of Caucasians wife Ariana. Birdie had wanted to touch base with me before I decided to have Caucasian go publish my piece so out of intense curiosity I asked why did she feel the need to contact me about my work and all. She told me she knew I may not be privy to who and what I was in reality dealing with. Birdie then told me that Caucasian was not a Biker but was the Head Neo Nazi of The State’s Neo Nazi Chapter (which state you ask, come on you know I’m not going to tell you.) Not only that but the magazine he was talking about having my piece published in was in fact a Neo Nazi Magazine. Well with the new information I obviously decided there was no way in Hell I was letting some Chief Neo Nazi publish my shit in some Neo Nazi Rag, and then I left as soon as I finished my beer without Caucasian noticing. I then avoided The Brass Bollocks like the fucking plague for a week or so hoping the issue would just fall by the wayside and that would be that plain and simple. Luckily for me it did by the time I returned to The Brass Bollocks the whole deal had been forgotten, and I was off the hook from having to deal any further with anyone associated with Neo Nazis.

SOME IMPORTANT SIDE NOTES:

Out of them all only Caucasian actually had a shaved head.
There was no Internet fueled Smartphone Social Media at the time this story took place.
At this time in society it had become acceptable for balding men to shave their head instead of getting hair plugs, hair pieces or just dealing with a comb over. (But it hadn’t yet become so accepted that anyone balding or not could shave their head and not feel like they stuck out like a sore fucking thumb.)
None of the Neo Nazis had racist tattoos such as Iron Crosses, Lighting Bolts or Swastikas.
None of the Neo Nazis ever yelled “White Power.”
None of the Neo Nazis wore clothing with Racist Propaganda or Nazi Emblems on them and they didn’t wear Doc Martins/Combat Boots either.
The Neo Nazi were very discreet in their affairs going out of the way apparently to stay off the radar, there wasn’t anyone using Racist Language/Slurs.
THE NEO NAZI COMMENTS ABOVE ARE TO SHOW LIFE ISN’T WHAT YOU SEE ON T.V. with rallying mobs screaming racial slurs sporting swastika arm bands or like the fucking Hollywhore movies like American History X.
REMEMBER its what YOU DON’T SEE that you SHOULD be scared of.

The Back In The Day Battle That Got Me Banned From Blockbuster

Back a Billion years ago when no one gave two shits about a burgeoning little company known as Netflix and before technology brought us the ability to stream Blockbuster ruled the world. I admit whole heartedly I’m a movie addict (a film junkie strung out on celluloid ) so I had no real alternative to Blockbuster if I wished to rent a movie I was forced to deal with them.

One day I along with a few friends went to the local Blockbuster. Its important to note at this time Debit Cards where still the new big thing in banking, and I myself had recently received my first debit card mere months ago. We walked in and I proceeded to stroll over to the check out counter and asked the man standing there how would I go about acquiring a Blockbuster Membership Card (which without you couldn’t rent shit obviously) The man told me right off the bat that I would need a credit card I have still to this day NEVER owned nor EVER will own a credit card, (but thats another story all together) ,and because as I mentioned before Debit Cards had just become a big deal because they had duel purposes. One of the cool new options Debit Cards offered was the ability to select credit as a payment option upon check out so I pulled out my Debit Card and handed to him. The employee barely looked at it before handing directly back to me saying that Debit Cards didn’t count as credit cards. He then went on to say I’d have to have a American Express or some bullshit if I wanted a Membership.

Now to say that back in those cryptic times I had a short fuse would imply there was a fuse to begin with. Now in spite of this kick ass cool new Debit Card this Movie Moron was telling me that Blockbuster, when all other businesses were wildly embracing new banking technology, was going to refuse me over an antiquated system. I decided to turn a bad situation to a worse one because the Film Freak behind the counter was being utterly irrational so I was going to fuck up his day for being such an unarguable ASSHOLE. I aggressively asked the Blockbuster Bitch why the Hell Blockbuster wouldn’t allow the use of Debit Cards considering their backed by Credit Card Companies hence the Visa or MasterCard Logo on it. The Idiot Employee stated condescendingly that Blockbuster does not acknowledge Debit Cards as a valid form of payment as it were and if I couldn’t get a credit card (implying that I was a young punk kid who would be denied by any and all Credit Card Companies) then it wasn’t his or Blockbuster’s concern, and thats when all Hell started to break loose. I was glaring at the employee in undeniable hate while he stared at me with his best “Fuck You Face” as the volume of our disagreement was beginning to escalate. At this point it was no longer about a minor movie membership but a total battle of wills, this shit had become personal.

I launched into a full blown, brutal, profanity laced, obscene diatribe damn near screaming about how the fuck Blockbuster could be so motherfucking egotistical and blatantly deny memberships over trivial bullshit. I mean I wasn’t trying to buy a goddamn gun I just wanted to rent a motherfucking movie for fuck’s sake. I went on that I was the prime demographic that caused Blockbuster’s rise to rule ,but not only that the demographic that comprised the body ,and provided the blood able to sustain such a massive national company. I said that from now on fuck Blockbuster I was going to now refer to them as Cockbuster because thats exactly what the fuck they are. The verbal assault switched gears from Cockbuster the Crap filled Corporation comprised of Shit Sucking Soulless Sons of Bitchs to the conduct of their (specifically the guy I was/had been dealing with) employees and their eat shit attitude. It was the usual cliche shit, who did he think he was, what made him so fucking superior when in reality he rented fucking movies not like its fucking open heart surgery.

My buddies at this point knew things were way too far out of control and realized they only solution was to physically remove me from the store. The 3 of them formed a triangle around me as my buddy at the front tried to calm me down (or at least get me to shut the Hell up) and at the same time trying to placate the situation by talking over me as well as the employee to drown out the arguing. I then became aware I was boxed in by my buddies and that they were attempting to escort me off the premises before inevitably the Crooked Cops were called in. So under duress I was shuffled out all the while still continuing my venomous venting all the way out the door, and through the parking lot to our car.

After Thoughts and Facts:

Cockbuster slowly died and rotted away as Netflix and Streaming became the new and far better alternatives to putting up with Rental Rejects.
Cockbuster in the end before their crippling corporate demise gave me a membership with me using my finally accepted new way of the world Debit Card.
I NEVER USED THE MEMBERSHIP, I got it to PROVE I could in fact get a Membership and Cockbuster could subsequently Piss Off into Bankruptcy.
About a month or so after my run in with Cockbuster an article was published (and insanely popular with the general American public) about how Cockbuster DENIED TOM FUCKING CRUISE a Membership.
The Cockbuster that I had my run in with closed and was bulldozed to make room for extra shopping center parking because no one else want to lease the building.
I had an opportunity to return to where my Cockbuster incident occurred during a business trip and once I stood where the Cockbuster had been I proceeded to piss on it like the commercial grade grave it is.

A Nightmare’s Bad Dream

Looking back at my life a couple of centuries ago when I was a 72 and fueled by emotion not logic I met one of my best friends of all time. I lived in the apartment next door to my soon to be buddy ,and one day I was over at his apartment just killing time (which I had too much of at the time I get myself in the most trouble when I’m bored) and there was a small group of people having a lengthy conversation about Chili recipes. After approximately 20 minutes or so give or take I couldn’t stand having to listen to their conversation a minute more. Unlike other people who would just leave the apartment and go about their day I stayed for the soul purpose of antagonizing the Chili lovers for my own amusement.

I walked over and weaved my way into their conversation only to announce that Lithuanian’s (for a while I was obsessed with picking on Lithuania for some weird reason even I’m not fully aware of) Chili is by far the strangest Chili recipes in the entire known world. I backed my statement with the claim Lithuanians used Bean Sprouts as a main ingredient in their various Chili recipes. Immediately without pause one young man called me out saying that my statement about Lithuanian Chili was absolute bullshit. I then took the offense and demanded to know how in the name of all things Universal did he know what I was saying was in fact utter horseshit. He replied quite adamantly the reason he knew I was full of shit was the simple fact he WAS Lithuanian ,and that amused me to no end.

So over the following months since the Great Chili Convention Conversation my neighbor and I grew to be very good friends. Since it turned out in a bizarre stroke of luck my neighbor was really Lithuanian I dubbed him The Nightmare of Lithuania which then was reworded to The Lithuanian Nightmare (since the second version of the nickname reminded me of a 1980’s WWF Wrestler who’d have had epic pay-per-view matches against Hulk Hogan and shit) and then the final condensed version Nightmare which was the version that lasted the test of time. One day Nightmare’s roommate up and pissed off all of a sudden and Nightmare invited me to be the roommate replacement. I of course accepted his offer without a second thought, packed up my gear, told my current 2 roommates I was moving and then promptly left them standing in the living room looking rather bewildered ,and a tad unhappy about the out of the blue announcement.

Nightmare and my friendship is based on essentially how different we are which greatly improved my life thanks to Nightmare. Nightmare is one of a minute number of people that have the unique ability to calm me down once I lose my shit (My Wife would be the best of the best as the kiddies say) ,and back in those ancient days I lost my shit constantly. A Classic example of what I’m talking about is what I refer to as “2 a.m. Anger Avoidance” which played out back in those medieval days as follows. Nightmare and I would meet up in the evenings after work and other assorted shit back at our apartment. Now at some point I would vent furiously about how someone or something had totally pissed me off because what ever happened was a Damnable Offense against me, and if you fuck with me I’m going to fuck with you 10 fold. Nightmare then would spend up to several hours as the night marched on words morning slowing the progression of my angst from Rage to Anger to Disgust to accepting that indeed shit does happen.

Inevitably in an attempt to end the discussion Nightmare would remind me that the current time of night was say 2 a.m. at which point I would start to ramp up again because now on top of whatever it was that pissed me off (whoever was to blame basically) had now kept me up till 2 in the morning. Having to work his magic all over again from basically the start Nightmare would get me to simmer down so we could try and get a few hours of precious sleep before work. We had at the time taken on 2 more roommates in our 2 bedroom apartment so Nightmare and I shared a room. Now as Nightmare was desperately longing for sleep intermittently I would readdress the issue that angered me earlier that day until finally I would run out of steam and fall asleep. Unfortunately for Nightmare he would remain up a while longer and before he succumbed to sleep he would suddenly find himself agreeing that what I had been raging about the entire night was in fact quite fucked up.

I’ve Been With My Wife 12 Years & Don’t Know Her Name So What?!

I was never aware of the fact until one day like another I was standing in my neighbor Joe Bob Billy Bob Jr.’s driveway shooting the shit and drinking some beers. We were taking a brief moment in our conversation (to stare menacingly in contempt and utter disgust at a mutually disliked neighbor’s house) when out of the blue Joe Bob Billy Bob up and out right asked me what my wife’s name is. This question gave me reason to pause because it was such a simple question that at first I could only look at Joe Bob Billy Bob with vacant eyes and questioning face. I suppose it was for that reason Joe Bob Billy Bob decided it was best to elaborate a bit more upon his question. Joe Bob Billy Bob reminded me that we have been friends for 15 years or so now and during those 15 years whenever I talked about my wife I would always refer to her as just that, my wife and seemed to never use her real name. Finally Joe Bob Billy Bob’s curiosity which had grown constantly through the years as to way exactly I never called my wife by her name in conversation, and felt compelled at this point to ask why that was. I took a long drawl off of my beer and then told Joe Bob Billy Bob since he asked I’d have no problem providing an explanation for him.

Well you see I told Joe Bob Billy Bob when it comes to women I am insanely shy and quite nervous to say the least. When I realized this wonderfully wicked woman was interested in dating me (and it took forever and a day until I became aware of my Wife’s intentions were romantic) I was extremely excited and very anxious to say the least. It was due to this initial anxiety when my Wife and I started dating that a week into our relationship I realized I had no idea what her name actually was. Luckily for me due to the fact I’m better with faces then with names (point being it’ll take me a while to learn a persons name) I had given her a nickname right from the get go. So I had to make a judgement call should I get force fed a entire Humble Pie and ask her real name OR I could stick with the nickname game and see what happens. I decided to go with the later.

Immediately as soon as I was done talking Joe Bob Billy Bob announced with great conviction that he was calling Bullshit so I was inclined to ask on what grounds. Joe Bob Billy Bob stated he was calling Bullshit because when we got married we had to exchange vows at which point I would HAVE to have learned her proper name, and thusly from that point on my initial argument is moot. Not so I replied for when we were exchanging vows I was so nervous all I could hear was the sound of my own heart pounding in my ears ,BUT thanks to plenty of rehearsals I was able to fly on auto pilot as They say.

At this point Joe Bob Billy Bob obviously didn’t believe me in the least and knew my story was absolute bullshit, BUT he had no proof what so ever which left a small amount of doubt in his mind that maybe just maybe as crazy as my story sounded it could actually be true. As I started walking back to my house I said “My Wife told me to tell you to stop by and don’t be a stranger.”

My Mind @ 2am on

I’m an extreme night person who finds his mind most calm and creative most from 1:30am to 4:30-5am.

Here are a small sample of tweets I came up with during the early hours of the morning or in the late of night (depends on how you view time)

A. America is not a country, its a global cooperation.

B. Mr. Id is coming and The Egos can do nothing about it.

C. Smut peddlers of the world UNITE!

D. I irritate people and piss people off to make the lemmings dance for my amusement.

E. When in doubt question

F. Hope can be dangerous

G. I’m so old I remember when Ozzy could talk like a normal human being

H. This reality feels virtual

I. Why are drug reps not referred to as drug dealers, thats what they do push drugs all day long

J. Trump America’s 1st dictator in the making.

K. Hillery those pant suits can’t hide your massive dick.

L. Sodom and Gomorra ain’t got shit on me.

M. I hide my eyes to spare you from shit you’d never forget

N. So if you say ‘I want to fuck the shit out of him/her” means what? That your going to fuck them until they shit themselves?!

O. In 90% or more of child custody cases due to divorce the court rules in favor of the mother and I think thats sexist.

P. Shove your App up your ass.

Q. Next time some dick I dislike gets married I’m crashing and replacing the chocolate in the dessert fountain with feces.

R. If you use a vaporizer to quite smoking tobacco good, if your vaping for vaping’s sake your a douche bag.

S. Prepare for the Hipster Holocaust can’t stand the fucking LL Bean looking lumberjack trendy clones unoriginality all over

T. Uwe Boll is a untalented ego maniac who should shut the hell up and make a good movie for once.

U. Bill Zebub is the laughing stock of independent film

V. Smarter the phone dumber the user.

W. Global warming will usher in the 2nd coming of the dinosaurs

X. Body shaming someone? When I was growing up it was called being an asshole.

Y. I swear my Bulldog farts tear gas

Z. Alcohol the true gateway drug evil.

These are just some I could remember off the top of my head as my twitter content has been frequently described as prolific by others. If your curious

Less_Sober@f_yourblog.

Uwe Boll SHUT YOUR MOUTH

If you don’t know who the hell Uwe Boll is consider yourself lucky thats for sure. Uwe is a german screenwriter,director,producer and actor based in Canada of all places. There is simply 2 parts to Mr.Boll his work in film and his pungent personality (Boll won the “Worst Career Achievement” Award at the 29th Golden Raspberry Awards)

WORK: Uwe Boll has made many movies over the years since 1990 that have one thing in common, THEY SUCK on a monumental level. They are all gutter garbage for the same reasons as well, the acting is like watching a nervous summer camp talent show skit were the actors are literally reading their lines off a piece of paper as they try not to shit their shorts. But thats just the beginning of the cinematic shit storm that are Uwe Boll’s films. As far as a script is concerned its like Boll took a crude amateur script, shoved it through a industrial sized shredder, and then picking up the shreds to tape them back together in a completely random order. Not to mention 95% or more of Boll’s work is based on the same similar subject matter and basic Boll business plan. The whole of Boll’s work consisted of him buying the rights to popular video games (such as Postal, Bloodrayne and House of the Dead to name a few) and adapting them into his movie template. Its not a surprise that video game fans have blasted Boll with aggravated anger claiming Boll butchers the games he bases his films on by destroying the plot and ad-libbing a bunch of his own idealistic gibberish. Some Anti-Boll minded people have also said that Boll’s work is low budget as if thats a contributing factor to how much blue whale cock his movie(s) suck. I DO NOT AGREE With The Previous Statement for I’ve seen brilliant independent movies made for around $25,000 and shitty ones too ,and same goes for bigger budget hollywood films as well. You can make a masterpiece or a monstrosity with 1 or a million dollars.

As for his pungent personality its plain to see Boll is overtly egotistical and self assured, far beyond opinionated, a bit delusional and a extremely intense person who truly believes the endless stream of bullshit he perpetuates. Boll blames everyone else for his failure from distribution companies to underachieving Kickstarter account its ALWAYS some else fault, as Boll believes the world is out to get him because of his outspoken self perceived talent and self deluded cinematic genius. Boll who was/is an amateur boxer has over the years challenged many of his critics and detractors to a 10-12 round boxing match to prove he and his work isn’t a laughing stock of the entire film industry. After Boll’s last failure he posted a handful of videos on Youtube screaming like a banshee. Boll went on to yell about Hollywood is for fake motherfuckers, no one is smart enough to understand his work, Big Name Hollywood actors (i.e. George Clooney) are talentless whores who sell their faces for films, American directors (such as Eli Roth and Quentin Tarrentino) are slaves to the film industry who have no originality Boll said in his random rambling rant.

What set Boll off was the Kickstarter page he started to fund the 3rd installment of his Rampage film series failed to secure the needed funds. Boll’s baby all along was his Rampage project about a disgruntled average American Joe who can’t take the corruptions of the country (and world) with all its injustices and brutality (Calling Micheal Douglas via Falling Down) and takes matters into his own vigilante hands. Unfortunately for Boll who wrote,directed,produced and acted in the previous two Rampage movies (Rampage and Rampage:You End Now) were a PERFECTLY PRIME EXAMPLE of what makes Boll such a wannabe bitch. The Rampage movies were shot on a single shaky digital video camera by what one can only imagine is a teenage high school AV Club member. As for any sort of proper sound recording/editing there is none just the microphone on camera which causes the sound to cut in and out like a shitty WiFi signal. As for the screen play its just a vague and artificially angry monologue spewed out by the lead actor (who’s body armor is blatantly a run of the mill paintball outfit) thats supposed to be this hyper intelligent socio-political commentary of the current state of affairs in American and its citizens. Instead the “dialogue” comes off like Boll got a paranoid schizophrenic conspiracy obsessed person to hook up with a elderly homeless person with late stage dementia ,and the script was dictated to him by their outrageous offspring.

Boll’s bottom line is he spends more time trying to make people believe he’s a great film director/writer instead of just MAKING A GREAT FILM.

The Coolest Cake I Ever Encountered

I’ve never really liked sweets as I have always preferred salty over sweet. Don’t get me wrong now I am in the end just a human ,and once in a blue moon even I need to score a Snickers. But just like you I’m part of the birthday party propaganda machine so on my birthday I would always get the traditional cake and so be it.

Now back quite a few years at this point my wife and championship tag team partner’s cousin Jameson (please drink responsibly, what? if your changing names have some fun with it for christ’s sake.) and his first wife Opal threw me a 30 something (don’t recollect which 30 though) birthday party at their house. After quite a few rather strong beers and pot smoking it was time for the whole cake fiasco. The first cool thing about it was no one said some stupid shit like ” OK guys its time for the cake!” or everyone up and disappears into the kitchen all of a sudden. Basically we were hanging out on their back porch when a tray comes down in front of me from behind me. Once the tray hit the table I saw it was entirely covered with various colored Jello Shots. Heres the kicker and coolest part my wife along with Opal had taken those cheap candy letters you can buy at the supermarket and spelled Happy Birthday Less by placing the letters on top of the appropriate jello shot.

See plenty of people know my aversion too sweets but don’t take it into consideration where as my wife and Opal did ,and as a result came up with the kick ass Jello Shot “Cake” concept.

Peddling Death Door To Door

I was sitting in my apartment one summer afternoon enjoying a craft beer or two when the door bell suddenly rang. Now I’m the type of person who knows who and when people are coming ,but no one was supposed to stop by on that particular day. I weighed the options and decided to for once to answer the door instead of ignoring it due to the fact I didn’t know who was ringing my door bell (and I utterly hate to be bothered)

So I exited my apartment on the 2nd floor, walked down the stair case to the 1st story exterior door and opened away. To my surprise it wasn’t any asshole asking if I found Jesus/accept christ or little kids going door to door selling candy as part of a school fundraiser. It was in fact a little old lady about 60-65 years old, hair white as snow with a cliche grandmother vibe. I said hello and asked what I could do for her today to which she replied she worked for a local funeral home with a neighboring cemetery. So she was going door to door talking with (and hopefully selling funeral home services) people about their or a loved one’s final preparations. More ironic then sending a senior citizen representative to sell funeral services (coffins,flowers,earns,cremation etc.) but I had amassed a short list of 3 personal questions on the matter of post death options for myself when I too die. I invited the little old lady in and took her up to my apartment where she set up shop so to speak in my living room. I informed her that yes I did have some questions about said funeral services and she very politely told me to ask her what they were.

In the time of efficiency and time management here (in no certain order) are the 3 questions I asked her alone with her answers.

Can I have my skeleton bronzed and placed in a certain pose?

No due to laws pertaining to the desecration of a corpse where there ABSOLUTELY NO acceptations.

2. If I chose to be cremated could I have my skull bronzed and placed on top of the earn’s led?

No something similar too the answer for question 1 ,but dealing moreover with the issue of handling dead bodies or some shit.

NOW THIS IS WHERE SHIT GETS DARK FAST AND MAKES NO SENSE: I SWEAR TO THE STARS ABOVE HOW THE FUCK THIS OTION IS POSSIBLE (CONSIDERING THE ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS 1 AND ) AND MOREOVER HOW THE FUCK ITS LEGAL AS THERE LAWS OUTLAWING CANNIBALISM.

3. Can I have my corpse (and possibly certain organs i.e. liver) cooked and served to the funeral party quests?

Yes if you can find someone willing to butcher and cook a corpse.

( There has to be some bizarre loophole because I can’t get my head around the yes to Necro Cannibalism.)

Ladies and Gentleman thank you, that is all.

Time to Criticize the Critics

Heres my question if they say art is subjective then why in the name of all things absurd do we need critics, and moreover why do people listen to these parasitical morons? Now ALL art is subjective its not limited to just painting/drawing its all inclusive painting,sculpture,writing,drawing,performance art etc. Now subjective means its up to the viewer/reader to determine for themselves what the said meaning of the piece is or was which means people may or may not agree. The question then becomes why do people believe what critics say, its just their fucking idea(s) so why not just formulate your own idea(s) Just because some critic thinks its good or bad is utterly indifferent because unless your thoughts are previously tainted by the influence of a review(s) chances are you wouldn’t agree. Thats what a critic really is just an over opinionated and some what egotistical person who believes their ideas/opinions are absolutely the end all be all on a said subject. To blindly comply to the point you think the critic is so invaluable that you believe what they say instead of finding out what you really think on your own.

The Damnedest Thing When It Comes To Doctors

Here is a short list of 3 things I have noticed about doctors that are rather fucked up to say the least.

Doctors never admit money was part of the decision to become a doctor. I’m not saying by any means that it was the only or main reason but undoubtedly money, a lot of money, played a big role. No doctor I have asked (its been approximately 6 doctors including specialists) have had the balls to admit the money factor. Instead they ramble fumbling and bumbling about they were interested in medicine, their father/mother are doctors or wanting to help patients. If doctors weren’t serious about their salaries and truly believed in benefiting humanity through medicine they wouldn’t refuse service to patients without insurance or donate a large chunk of their time to support free health services. But instead they hide behind the Hippocratic Oath which they took after passing the board exams and means as much as learning parallel parking for the drivers test, once you pass you never do it again.
I fully understand that collage and medical school cost an ungodly fortune which is unfortunate. With that said I object to doctors padding their bill if you will in order to pay off their student loans which average around $100,000 plus. So while I am empathetic to doctors having to endure such heavy financial student loan debt ITS NOT MY JOB TO REPAY THEIR STUDENT LOANS.
If you want to chap a doctors ass in a big way call them by their first name . Now your totally entitled to do so yet people become subservient when it comes to doctors. The fact people fear illness and more over death that they wouldn’t even imagine calling their doctor by their first name. The was I see it if I’m paying you for your services then essentially I’m your fucking boss plain and simple.
Lastly why is it Doctors damn near demand to be addressed as doctor. I don’t call any one else by their profession . I don’t call people mechanic Bukowski, Banker Lawson, lawyer Johnson or Cashier Newman. The sole reason I endorse is doctors are insanely egotistical to the point of narcissism, their so high and mighty because they can fix the injured and heal the sick they develop a borderline god complex.

Thats all for now Ladies and Gentlemen.