Sarcastic Humor – Page 4

Growing Up & Getting Even

Phil never felt the need to grow up. Thats not to say He wasn’t aware he was going to get old and one day die because Phil was quite aware of this. For His entire childhood Phil had been told that People graduate High School, GoTo Collage, Graduate with a Degree, Get a Job, Get Married, Buy a House, Have Kids, Commit to a Career, Work, Grow old, Retire, and Die shortly there after.

This plan for ones life was absolutely unappealing to Phil. Phil didn’t want to live a Ridged , and Pre Structure Life, Phil was far too Abstract for all that traditional Social Norms Nonsense. Phil was what People refer to as a Free Spirit, a Person Who walked to the Beat of Their Own Drum, and Cut from a Different Cloth. It all inevitably all lead to the fact most Friends/Family of Phil’s all agreed He suffered from a wicked case of Peter Pan Syndrome.

Peter Pan Syndrome isn’t a real Syndrome like Downs mind You. Its some stupid bullshit that Conformists created to define Those Who walked free from the Flock. PPS simple means that a Person for whatever reason(s) doesn’t grow up to be what is commonly called Mature.

The way Phil saw it Mature was just a fancy way of saying falling in line. Why should He watch what He was Saying?! Who gives a shit if something is “Not what People Do”?! Why not do something Unusual?!

Phil truly felt that if He was born a totally unique one of a kind and that there was no one exactly like Him Why would He then opt to Act, Dress, Behave,and Live Life like Everyone fucking Else?! Be a Leader Not a Lemming was Phil’s personal motto since He was 13 years old.

So Phil did in fact Graduate from High School, and gave Collage a Try. Collage was far more free flowing than High School had been, BUT Phil couldn’t seem to figure out a Educational Path to Follow.

Since Collage was’t in Phil’s future He did the Only Other thing He could do ACCORDING to His Parents, Family, Teachers, Guidance Counselors, and all Other Authority Figures.

It took next to No Time for Phil to realize He detested Working for Another. Phil always had a Extremely Strong Aversion to ANY AND ALL AUTHORITY FIGURES. Just like other People Phil resented Someone having the Power and control over Him, BUT unlike the Others Phil didn’t hide His feelings just the opposite.

Phil was VERY Outspoken about his Views, Opinions, and General Thinking. Phil didn’t have this fucking “Filter” as They say though Phil always thought Filters were for fucking Pools not People.

One Day Phil decided to relocate to Florida as He hated Cold fucking Weather with a passion, and there was nothing keeping Phil tied down as He wasn’t married, No Kids, Didn’t own a House or Business, wasn’t attending Collage, and He had come to hate pretty much everyone in His Home Town of Phukuville. Thus Phil could simple up and move with little notice or planning involved.

Once Phil made it to Florida He settled in Orlando renting a Small Apartment in a Cheaply Built Apartment Building off of Orange Blossom Trail. Phil’s crappy Apartment had one perk if You will as it was just a mere 8 minutes from Disney World.

Phil needed work quick to get some positive cash flow coming in. Phil first took a job as a Short Order Cook at a Country Themed Restaurant call The Black Eyed Pea. The Black Eyed Pea is essentially a Poor Man’s 3rd rate Cracker Barrel rip off. Phil had a blast partying with His coworkers, BUT inevitably Phil ended up Quitting on the Spot on Day due to the fact He felt the Manager was just being a dick for the sake of being a dick.

Phil then took a Job as a Telemarketer and absolutely hated everything about the Job. His employer was some vaguely shady company with a token cliche name referencing America. The hours were odd, and the pay was less than appealing. Phil didn’t speak to His coworkers as He felt They were all fucking Basket Cases, had legit Mental Health issues, had Drug issues, or some sort of unscrupulous Scumshit (a Low Life Piece of Shit).

When Phil got so sick of the Job that He wanted to Burn the fucking Call Center Down decided to just never go back fuck’em. After that Phil eked by one His meager savings, and small loans from Family Members. Finally the Bank Account ran dry and there was No More Family to ask for a Loan Phil had a moment of clarity.

Phil went out bright and early the next morning to purchase a Newspaper. Phil then went home and proceeded to open the paper to the Classifieds where something absolutely amazing. Phil saw an Advertisement for Help Wanted at Disney World, and this NEVER HAPPENS. The reason that a Help Wanted ad was so rare it was like spotting a fucking Bigfoot riding on the back of a Unicorn was this.

First and foremost NO ONE currently Employed by Disney World would quite unless They HAD NO OTHER CHOICE BUT TO DO SO. Why You ask? Simple. Disney World payed REALLY WELL and the Benefits were fucking UNREAL. Second the rarest of occasions that a Job at Disney World did open up it was filled almost instantly. Hiring at Disney World is identical to the Auditions for American fucking Idol as in HUNDREDS of People Apply.

Taking the Want add as a sign Phil boarded the first Bus headed to Disney World. Once Phil arrived it took Him 90 fucking minutes to locate where the Hiring Office actually was as Disney World is Big as Hell.

In spite of the massive delay in locating the Hiring Office Phil was the first one there as the Office was just opening. Phil was released as he had hailed ass through the Parks and all because as He was looking for the Hiring Office He say a multitude of Other People doing the same. Perhaps this was part of the Hiring Process Phil wondered as sometimes Employers do weird shit like that to see You is determined and Who preservers.

The Job was for a Wild West Restaurant Actor which was described to Phil in the following way. There was a Huge Wild West Themed Restaurant in one of the several Disney World Parks that had Actors working there in addition to the Servers and Kitchen Staff. Actors/Actresses dressed as Cowboys in 18th century Wild West Attire and Acted out various Storylines.

NOW THIS WAS NO DINNER THEATER At Least NOT in the Conventional Sense. Unlike normal Dinner Theaters were Dinners filled a Dinning room and the Actors put on They’re performance on a Stage. There was No Stage at the Wild West Restaurant.

Instead the Actors and Actresses preformed the set Stories/Story Lines while roaming through out the Entire Restaurant among the Dinners. And this being a Wild West Theme there were Bank Robberies, Foot Chases, Ho Downs, Town Meetings, and Yes Gun Fights happening around the Visitors as They ate.

Phil aced the interview which was far from surprising as Phil was blessed with the Gift of Gab,and could seriously turn up the Charm when He needed too. Phil was given the Job as “Cowboy ” who would do all sort of cool things from playing Poker at a Table mixed in with the Diners or Having full blow Gun Fights. The Roles He’s play would change Daily to keep it fresh for the Visitors and more Interesting for Actors and Actresses.

Time ticked by as the weeks turned into Months and Phil feel head over heels for His official Job as a Fictional Cowboy. He had money in the Bank. He moved to a much nicer (but still cheaply constructed) 2 Bedroom Town House. He bought a New Car. Life was good.

Christmas came around and for the very first time in Phil’s life he mailed out Christmas cards. Phil had never put much thought into shit like Christmas Cards because they didn’t register as important a thing as they did for other People. So Phil hit up the local Hallmark Store and bought a slew of Christmas Cards.

Phil headed home and started filling out the Christmas Cards He had purchased to send to ALL His Friends and Family back home as well as Several Other Key People (one being for example His High School Principle Mr. Witless) As soon as He was done the last one Phil mailed them immediately without hesitation.

When Phil’s Seasons Greeting Christmas Cards arrived to His Entire Family, Every One of His Friends, and Some Others (His first Boss Dick Pickler from Samuel Goody’s a Chain of Commercial Record Stores) They all happily oped the envelope, opened the card, took a deep breath, and read…..

Hello and Happy Holidays Assholes,

For years You all told Me relentlessly time and time again to Grow up, Act My Age and Get a Job. Well I’m a full grown Adult now ,and I have a full time Job with Excellent Pay/Benefits.

What is My Job? What do I Do?

I dress up in a Authentic Cowboy Costume and Play Cowboys & Indians for 12 hours 4 fucking Days a week. Thats what the fuck I do for a Living so Fuck Your Bad Advice, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year Shitheads!

See Ya Later PHIL!

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober

We Don’t NEED a Sign.

Yesterday I along with My Mother drove My Brother and His Wife into the nearest City so They could utilize The Airport there to fly home. We went into the City early so We could have Lunch at some little Bistro that My Brother’s Wife had heard of (I forget if She had or hadn’t been there before or if She is just a real fucking Fan of Vietnamese Food), and wanted to eat at.

My Brother’s Wife is a bit more out on the Trendy curve of things, and NO She is NOT a Hipster thank fuck for that. She is in actuality quite awesome so just wanted to clarify that. So I was curious as a cracked out cat, BUT at the same time wary as shit that this was virtually uncharted waters for Me. I have had Vietnamese food only once or twice in My life and sadly with My aging memory can’t remember much about the food.

Anyways We drove into the working class neighborhood where the Place was located and found a place to park. We then walked about 4-5 blocks to the Bistro or whatever the fuck trendy title They identify Themselves as/with.

What is quite cool is that the Place (I hate trendy shit so I refuse to say Bistro, Gastropub, or Fusion as they are pretentious and inane) is housed in a some what renovated Corner Gas Station. I say some what because while the Owners had full gutted the shit out of the inside and transformed it into a Hipster Clubhouse with a professional kitchen, the outside remained untouched.

The exterior while being rather plain and completely ordinary it was in need of some attention. The paint was severely cracked and chipping badly, the wore out sun bleached Logos and Advertising for the former Gas Station/ Garage were barely visible.

Another reason to mention the condition and aesthetic is due to the fact the Place is one of those Hipster “We’re so fucking cool We don’t need a Sign or any sort of exterior recognition whatsoever, and don’t Advertise because We’re old school word of mouth trendy Hot Spots so Fuck You.”

Thus if You didn’t know it was a place to eat You’d drive right the fuck past it as You would just immediately dismissed it (if You acknowledged it at all) as just another Abandoned Gas Station/Garage so in fact fuck Them.

We decided to sit outside under the awning that used to protect the Pumps and customer’s from Rain, but now Tables. Inside not only was unpleasing They were also fucking blaring some shitty Folk EMD Hybrid shit at Night Club Level for some ungodly reason.

The menu was small with only 6 items on it which I liked as I’m not too familiar with Vietnamese food, and thus wouldn’t be overwhelmed by a larger menu. In the end I tapped out and let My Brother pick for Me. I didn’t want to waste time lingering and loitering staring blankly at the menu as if all of a sudden it would be come clearer to me.

On the reverse side of the menu were the beverages. The first thing I noticed was the entire drink menu were Alcoholic. I have NO problem with Alcohol and am a fan of Beer, but not at 12:30 pm on a fucking Tuesday for fuck’s sake. What I found funny as fuck was at the very fucking bottom of the drink menu it said in tiny lettering “If You Would Like A NON-Alcholic Beverage Please Ask Your Waiter/Waitress”

I thought this was funny because People in general would expect it to be the other way around where one would have to ask for alcohol as the alternative. I also found it wildly fucking entertaining that at the bottom of the Food side of the menu it read again in tiny lettering:

Buy Kitchen a Beer- If you enjoyed your food & want a chance to do something nice for the kitchen staff.

I found myself wondering after reading the above “So what they whole staff splits a singular beer? That doesn’t seem very nice. And why only Kitchen Staff what about the fucking servers? What They don’t deserve a fucking free beer?! Bullshit.

I decided to play it say and stick with fucking water. I didn’t wan to waste ( fucking dollars on some crazy Asian soda/juice only to take a sip to find out I hated it. Fucking Hipster Prices.

The Food was really good and very fucking spicy which again I really thought was cool. The only thing I didn’t dig about are Server was One when You read of what you wanted He had to be a pretentious twat and repeated with its proper pronunciation in a condescending manner.

Two was when He asked “Would You like more water Bro?” I take issue with this because come on Guy “Bro “talk about un-fucking-professional. Also I HATE BEING CALLED BRO. I’m not Your Bro in any way shape or fucking form. I don’t want to be refereed to a Bro as I think Bros are complete pieces of human shit. Fuck You Bro, Fuck Bro, Fuck You.

In the end it was a good meal at a odd Hipster hangout with an excellent outside eating/seating area. The staff weren’t overtly dicks keeping the Douchebaggery to a minimum. They didn’t pipe the shitty Folk EMD music outside through speakers or what have You. The only down side was the aforementioned Hipster Prices which resulted in a fucking $92.49 bill for a basic Lunch deal.

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober

Tech Support is a Shitty Scam

We have all been there Countless Times over the Years to say the fucking least. At the most inconvenient moment possible some piece of technology that We are using/Need takes a massive shit, and refuses to right itself.

And after tooling around with the Device like the good old “Turn it off and on Again” and other DIY tricks of the trade. When nothing within the realm of fucking Logic doesn’t work, and your Device is still having a Tantrum like a bratty fucking child We break the fuck down, curse under Our breath, and call Tech Support.

Yeah those Less Than Helpful 9 out of 10 times with Their bullshit attitudes, and general hating of They’re Lives. Well yup you fucking guessed it some of that Trifling Tech shit happened to Me just the other fucking day.

I jumped on My trusty fucking Laptop (AKA My Partner in Crime) logged on to the site here, and it was all normal until I pulled up a Post I was in the middle of working on. Thats when I found out My Format had somehow become completely fucked rendering pretty much everything if You think about it to a grinding halt.

I spent little over a hour trying My best to remedy the situation, but to no avail. I finally had to accept the fucked up fact that I’d have to call Tech Support in for this fucker.

I spent 40 fucking minutes talking with the first Guy and LITERALLY GOT NO WHERE. Apparently He couldn’t access My screen to see what the fuck I was seeing because something on My end effectively blocked Him before He could.

Well this dumb fuck tells Me since the issue is on My end I need to shut off whatever the fuck it is thats locking Him out. So I said fine tell Me then how the fuck I do it and I will now, BUT thats when the TECH SUPPORT GUY informs Me for some unexplainable reason He can’t.

I then told the Guy how fucking stupid and utterly fucking absurd the issue was. Here I am the Tech Noob asking Him for help only to have Him tell Me Me He CAN”T DO A DAMN THING TO HELP. Then the Tech Expert tells the Noob He needs to figure out an issue the fucking TECH FUCKING EXPERT CAN’T.

Needless to say I was transferred to a Second Guy in what I was told was the TurdPress Live department.

After having to tell the Second joker all over again what the fuck was going on He tells Me He’s all too familiar with the issue and that He sees it several times a Month.

I then ask Him what the hell happened to which He replied an Automatic Update (I have experienced any such fucking thing, at least nothing fucked up like it in the 4 plus years I have been Paying this Provider) had a faulty Plugin that either didn’t load or it only partially loaded either way thats what clusterfucked My Beloved Format.

Now I’m feeling a bit better at least the Second Joker is familiar with the problem, and sounds like this Guy can fix it since He had NO trouble diagnosing the problem in great detail at length. Well I was Wrong.

The next fucking thing I know is this asshole is telling Me for some reason He won’t fucking tell me He can’t intact Fix the issue. I mean shit at least the First Joker had a reason for His incompetence. This Guy had DICK.

I then realized where the fuck this conversation was inevitably headed and that time I was right fucking on.

This assfuck goes on to say that if I want the problem fixed (and remember I can’t write/Post a goddamn thing without My fucking Format being fixed/working) I have to SIGN UP FOR THEIR TURDPRESS LIVE SERVICE.

Apparently They like SO many Others use TurdPress, but in this incidence the Provider Company created TURDPRESS LIVE just to handle all the fucking issues all the fucking users where having. How fucked is that shit I ask You?! A Secondary Company had to create a Tech Support Department to handle THE FIRST COMPANIES USER’S PROBLEMS.

Anyway I damn well know signing up for ANY and ALL ADDITIONAL SERVICES translates into “But You’ll have to PAY US MORE MONEY.” So I ask this fucking Guy how much, and He has the balls to tell Me its “just” a couple hundred a month.

He then lets Me know that most People sign up only for a few/couple months and then drop it like some People do with HBO and Their Game of Thrones Show as well as Other Similar Sinarios with Different Shows.

Bottomline is I’d have to buy a MONTH worth of Support to fix this one issue. I then asked this idiot what the fucking alternatives would be, and He says to surf forums asking questions (and see what the fuck happens) or scouring YouTube to see if You might find something of use. Both would require a great deal of time and effort, but still it all could come up with absolute dick as far as answers.

I was well pissed off by now as anyone would and told this clown I’d have to think about some shit and call back later or something. I sat around for a while killing time before My Wife came home form Work spitting venom.

I for one am SICK AS SHIT that I Pay all these different fucking companies and They all tell Me about the fucking spectacular Customer Service They provide for Their Customers.

Then You have an actual problem thus You call them for Help ONLY TO BE TOLD IT WILL COST YOU MORE FUCKING MONEY for Their Service that can actually fix the fucking problem/Provide the Service You want or need.

I mean where the fuck is the Customer Service Help I’m ALREADY FUCKING PAYING FOR?! How come all these phone fucks can do is charge Me more through some Upgrade orSpecific Service. Talk about Double Billing.

HERE’s The Kicker. Once My Wife got home see took a look at it and had it totally fixed in UNDER 15 Minutes FOR FUCKING FREE.

Tech Support/Customer Service can EAT SHIT SANDWICHES In Jersey.

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober

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

Text Poetry No One Should Read Pt. 2 SpaceDog’s Reply

Quick Reminder to the Reader THIS IS ONE OF THE MOST OFFENSIVE POSTS YET, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

For those who skip intro’s I met up with SpaceDog during a recent Road Trip. On the way I decided to insult a person We both mutually Hate and Mock Mercilessly. I sent him an impromptu Poem about said Asshole, and SpaceDog wrote his own Poem in Response. It may be pertinent to note I did date this Fuckass for several months. This Poem is about surviving the ghastly grips of a grimy gutter dwelling Girl.

This is SpaceDog’s Poetic Reply:

Title: Saved From The Snatch of Satan

There was a hole that many knew,

As time went on its reputation grew,

Most men that entered turned gay anew.

And the one’s that didn’t they wound up dead,

Tragic overdoses, shot in the head.

But one man lives to tell the tale, No cocks in his mouth,

Heart beating strong as a Whale.

Despite the dead placentas on his dick,

He turned around his life like a magic trick.

Most know him well yet don’t speak his name,

Only time will tell who is to blame.

Just know well when your pregnancy tests comes up B,

Abort it fast…coat hanger 1,2,3.

Right now this tale is almost over,

The Living Legend Les Sober.

By The One and Only,

SpaceDog

Text Poetry That No One Should Read

WARNING DEAR READER:

Even though We here at f-yourblog.com have an open letter statement posted that has a section pertaining to content. The Following Post is the reason We have said section. THIS IS THE MOST OFFENSIVE and OBSCENE Post to date. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

In the past I have posted a couple of SpaceDog’s and my Late Night Text Conversations. I was recently on a road trip that had me headed into SpaceDog’s neck f the Woods. So I texted Him a short 4 line limerick that then gave birth to an entire poem written on spontaneously on the spot while stuck in a real bumper fucker of a traffic jam. A few minutes later SpaceDog hit me back with a Nasty bit of Poetry of His own also pertaining to the same person. See one of the things SpaceDog and I have in common are a bunch of people we both Hate and Despise to NO END WHATSOEVER. To handle this deep disgust We mock these people viciously in an arena where NOTHING IS OFF LIMITS EVER.

Here is My Poem I sent SpaceDog:

THE BAD ASS BALLAD OF BRITTANY:

People laugh and people scoff,

But Brittany cut her pussy off,

She’d have Wild Fetish fits,

While Strange Men shit on her Tits,

She used so much lube She bought Stock,

While sucking on an Old Man’s Cock,

She’d fuck you till you bounced off the Walls,

She’d Swallow, Eat Ass, and Gargle Balls,

When She heard of Bukaki,

She said “thats for ME!”,

She always had problems with her legging,

When some Dude’s Ass She was Furiously Pegging,

No Secret Brittany Licked some Slit,

Nibbled on Crackhead Clit,

She Shot Heroin that was Top Notch,

She injected into her stank Crotch,

Filled with Pervert’s Jizz,

She Loves The Biz,

Now She has Lost All Hope,

She’s Sucking Dick for Dope,

Made Her money on her Back,

Spent it all Smoking Crack,

Her Vag is riddled with STDs of Every Kind,

She’s Drinking Mad Dog 20/20 to unwind,

She’s Pregnant again and She Knows the Institution,

She’ll go back to The Free Clinic for her 100th Abortion,

She’s a 3 Hole Super Slut,

Mouth, Vag, and The Butt,

She sits on the corner smoking a PCP Laced Blunt,

While Passerby’s on the Street gag at the smell of Her Cunt,

It looked like a sloppy Hot Roast Beef between Her legs,

As Her Live In Gimp Grovels, Moans, and Begs,

She can Cream Pie like no other,

She once even fucked Her own Mother,

Started a Porno Web Cam,

Where She’d eat Her Sister’s Clam,

She’ll fuck every last one of the 42 of us,

As Long You don’t mind Her Pussy Puss,

Her Scab covered Genitalia,

Just the Smell Could Kill Ya,

She’d let you Tittie fuck Her for just a Dollar,

You could finish on her face and its No Bother,

She would go insane if you wanted to run a train,

Just as Her Baby was Aborted so was Her Feeble Brain,

Gang Bangs made Her Wet,

Bath Salt Abuse made Her Forget,

Molested by Her Step Brother,

Preformed Oral sex on her Mother,

A Homeless Alcoholic Hooker,

As a D-List Stripper No One would Book Her,

She loved taking Golden Showers,

She’d sell Her body at all hours,

She can really go to town taking on a Taint,

She does shit that makes Hardcore Porn Stars Faint,

She has to be to remain the Rim Job Queen,

She was a regular at The No Tell Motel,

In Her Own Ejaculation Soaked Hell,

She was a truly Bitter a real Bitch,

Who’s pounded out pussy tended to Itch,

Her Vaginal fuck Flaps hung down by Her dirt covered Knees,

A Vile of Crack would pop out of Her Ass when She would sneeze,

Track Marks under Her Muff,

Taking 56 cocks a day can be rough,

She would Masturbate in a Fury,

Behind the Dumpster in the Ally,

She’s fuck you for Food,

She’ll fuck a Girl, a Sheep, and a Dude,

She was a Donkey Show Star,

At the Sleaziest Bar,

So absolutely fucked up and utterly Dumb,

No wonder The Stupid Slut is coated in Cum,

She used to shoot Golf Balls out of Her Snatch,

And Golf Tee’s out Her Ass just to Match,

She’s Dirty, disease ridden Prostitute,

There is NO Dispute,,

She used to run through Police Barricades,

While Screaming “I have FULL BLOWN AIDS!”,

She constantly Battled the Clap,

Under a Bridge SHe’d take a Nap,

She was a Tramp among Tramps,

She’d take Cash, Drugs, or Food Stamps,

She just a low rent junkie,

a Drug Mule Flunky,

A rotten, scummy Hell of a Gutter Whore,

I hit the Road, I could stand Her NO MORE.

What? You were Warned So if your Offended in any way…..

For those Reader’s who are around I will be posting SpaceDog’s Reply Poem Tomorrow without Fail Friends.

Thanks For Reading,

Les Sober

Senior Citizens & The Sex Shop Showdown

One Day I was hanging out with my dear friend The Armenian at his Grandmother’s house drinking Gin and Tonics of all fucking things. For the record I hate Gin, and think the only people on Earth who should drink it are The British Elderly. My personal feelings aside Gin was all We could steal from My Mother’s Liquor Cabinet the previous night.

Once We were dead drunk We wondered around and came upon a Bus Stop so We got on the next Bus that came without regard to where it was actually going. 10 minutes or so later We found out that it went to the local Mall. This was of course AFTER We had gotten OFF the Bus. We stumbled around trying to find a way to get the fuck away from the Mall when We came across a couple of Girls named Ryder and Debs (Short for Debra) sitting outside a Mall exit. They happened to live in the neighboring town of Addison which was cool because We were sick of the girls in our town. We struck up a conversation, and short story short We became friends with some romantic relationship shit along the way.

It was a slow Sunday when The Armenian and I were doing a lot of nothing when We decided to head over to Addison to do a lot of more nothing with Ryder and Debs. We drove over and picked up Ryder and Debs and proceeded to drive around aimlessly smoking pot and talking shit. This was our favorite time killing pastime as our towns were small and full of Assholes.

Once We succumbed to the so called “Munchies” We stopped at a Local Diner called The Crystal Diner on Route 99. Now Route 99 was the main highway and commercial strip that ran through Addison. It housed everything from Grocery Stores, Fast Food Restaurants, bowling ally, a 2 screen movie theater, a Dunkin Donuts, Clothing Stores, Etc.

The most note worthy thing about Old Route 99 was at the far end running out of town nestled between a Gas Station and a Music store back from the road was a Adult Book Store (AKA Porn Shop). The Porn Shop was a small grey cinder block building with a Blacked out front window and parking in back. The Crystal Diner just so happened to be located across the street a few doors to the right. As We came out of Crystal The Armenian noticed there was quite a commotion going on over at the Porn Shop. This was something that could not and should be ignored and We headed off words the Porn Shop on foot.

As We got closer We saw that there was a decent sized group (13-15) of Senior Citizens gathered outfronnt of the Porn Shop Entrance. Once We got to the edge of the Porn Shop’s tiny front parking lot We couldn’t believe what We had come across. The Senior Citizen’s were a all female Neighborhood Church Group protesting the Porn Shop in a growing intensity. They were waving signs saying shit like “Sex is for Procreation NOT Recreation”, and shouting “Hell No The Smut Must Go!” while waving their hands in the air.

We stood there smoking cigarettes watching this drama unfold. Finally it was getting old and We were about to go back to the car when the shit hit the fan. 3-4 of the Little Old Ladies bum rushed into the Porn Shop. A minute or so later one of the Little Old Ladies came out and held the entrance door wide open. The next thing anyone knows Sex Toys and Porno Movie DVDs come flying out the door and rain down in the parking lot. This really riled up the other Little Old Ladies into a Senior Insanity driven Frenzy as they started shouting encouragement to the “In Store Invaders” as it were. There’s nothing as absurdly entertaining as watching one Little Old Lady throw a Neon Pink Double Headed Dildo out of a Porn Shop while another Little Old Lady Shouts “Sex Toys are for SINNERS!” or a Little Old Lady picking up a Inflatable fuck doll (that happens to be a fucking Alien, it was like 6’4″, Black Almond Shaped Alien Eyes, “Total Recall” Tits (3), and Purple) and waving it wildly around screaming “Alien Sex Dolls are an Abomination !!!”

At last the Police Showed up to disband the Senior’s and We took off post haste as We hated Cops and were Holding a Variety of Substances in our car. To this day I can close my eyes and see the entire ordeal which still makes me laugh my cinical ass off every time without fail my friends.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

Its Called Karma You Kreaton

I was down in The Great Southern Swamp for some hellish holiday shit when something rather odd happened.

My Wife and I were driving back to our temporary base camp when I saw a something peculiar out of the corner of my eye. I asked my Wife to hold up ,and turn into the small empty parking lot of some small business. I had her drive down to the far end and park. I got out and peered around the corner to see exactly what the fuck I saw because it look bizarrely different.

What I saw was an average run of the fucking mill garbage can (the one with a flip lid and rear wheels), BUT what was cool was someone had tagged the garbage can with yellow spray paint. The Artist had written the message “NCAH Will Bite You” on all 4 sides of the garbage can no less, and then topped it all off with a caveman like hieroglyph of what appeared to be some sort of cat looking animal. I decided it was odd enough I was going to take a few pictures to document the weirdness when I hear my Wife say “He’s just taking a picture.”

I stood up as I had squatted down for a better shot to see sizable Veterinary Technician lording over me. The big bald bastard must have been about 6’3″ or so 200 some odd pounds and was standing in front of me bowing his chest out. He had his arms hanging at his sides all tensed up like he was about to lunge at me, and all that macho male posturing primal bullshit. On top of it all the big son of a bitch was staring me down hardcore glaring at me like I told him to go fuck his mom.

I couldn’t figure out why the hell my taking a picture of a fucking garbage had illicit such a aggressive reaction. Second I thought fuck him in his big bald bitch ass the big bald bastard. So I stood up and simple explained the obvious that I saw the garbage can, thought it was rather bad ass, and wanted to take picture. This Big Bastard stood there not saying a fucking thing just glaring at me like I’m the asshole.

So I attempted to chat with the Big Bald Bitch because at this point I had no fucking idea what the hell was going on with this fucking whack job. He just kept up the silent tough guy like a hollywood action movie cliche. Finally the Bald fuck says “Its (the small business was) a Veterinary Clinic.”, and then went stone cold silent again like a shitty statue. I asked who NCAH meant to see if it was a place, organization, or business perhaps at which point the Big Bitch informs me it stands for NORTH CAL ANIMAL HOSPITAL in a cocksucking condescending tone of voice before going back to scowling at me.

Well I knew at this point there wasn’t fuck all I could do to reason with this Big Bald Bastard so it was time for me to get the hell home. I was half way back to the car when I turned around (still walking mind you) and said something like “I don’t see why your such an asshole… I just wanted a picture because its a cool picture I didn’t tag it you miserable fuck…You didn’t need to be a dick but you did you fucking asshole…fuck you, fuck off with that bullshit…Fucker…”

I get in the car as my Wife is telling the Big Bald Bitch that we’re leaving, when the Big Son of a Bitch say quite loudly “Why did it have to be that way??!” His question boggled my mind as I tried to figure out how big of a motherfucking ignorant idiot he really was. I couldn’t help myself and I yelled back “YOU DECIDED TO BE A FUCKING DICK, AND I DIDN’T TAKE YOUR MACHO BULLSHIT THATS WHY ASSHOLE.”

I can’t believe their actually People that are apparently like this gentlemen are simply too fucking stupid to live, how have they lasted this long honestly??!!

Thanks for the READ,

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

The Deviant Detective Ep 3 : Looking For The Cock Rock King

Rock kicked his feet up onto his desk with a solid thud. Rock picked up a copy of the local paper “The Fanatic” because you’d be surprised what ideas one can come up with by just reading the paper.

Rock flipped through the pages casually until he reached the back of the paper. At the back of “The Fanatic” was the local entertainment/art scene.

Rock never paid mind to the entertainment section it was all shit. Today though Rock realized he’d not only have to read the entertainment section, but also pay struck attention looking for any possible leads. His new client the underground self proclaimed Queen of Punk Ivy Savage had little patience and a huge fucking drug habit.

Rock scanned the concert section and found Ivy’s missing boyfriend Eddie Oi’s band The Fuck Me Pumps were scheduled to play that night down at a small hole in the wall called The Boozehound Lounge. The Boozehound was only a couple of blocks from The BarFly Bar which Ivy had mentioned as a possible hangout of Eddie’s.

Rock placed his feet back on the floor, downed 4 fingers of Kentucky White Whisky, lit a cigarette and exhaled with a labored sigh. Rock knew what he had to do. Rock called a cab and headed down to what was referred to as the dive district.

The dive district was a run down part of the city with abandoned factories, dive bars, shitty clubs, Soup kitchens, Hobo Haven (a tent city of sorts consisting of the cities many homeless), methadone clinics, the county mental health hospital, mom and pop liquor stores, Pawn shops, Strip clubs, Old school Porno theaters most converted into sex shops, the slums run by lecherous so called land lords, and the solid waste authority.

On the ride Rock decided it be best to pick the cabbies brain. Next to bartenders cabbies were the unofficial information sources of street knowledge the who’s, what’s, when’s and where’s the life blood of the city.

“Hey buddy how long you been driving the dive district route?,” inquired Rock

“22 years and thats 20 to damn many,” gripped the cabbie

“I’m looking for some punk rock guy named Eddie Oi. You know the prime punk scene hangouts and clubs?”

“Fuck that shit. The Fuck Me Pump’s aren’t punk rock, their fucking cock rock. your looking in the right neighborhood but wrong street if ya know what I’m saying pal.,”

“What in the name of Christ is Cock Rock?,” asked Rock as he reached for his trusty flask.

“Cock Rock,”said the cabbie “Its like punk rock, 3 chord shit played as fast as humanly possible. Instead of politics or social commentary Cock Rock is essentially a shitty porno put to music. Think 2 Live Crew but with guitars and all that shit.”

“Shit and I thought Punk was the soundtrack of the gutter but damn just like always theres something worse than what you think. Wheres a good place to start the search?” Rock wondered aloud.

“Easy you go to The BarFly Bar. When you get there ask for Bloody Sod Bollocks he’s the godfather of underground hardcore scene. He used to be in some famous British hardcore punk band back in the day called Shit Out of Luck or something like that. He’s been here in the city so long he knows every-fucking-body. You looking for a musical you go talk to Bloody Sod.” claimed the cabbie in utter confidence as he pulled up to the curb outside of The BarFly Bar.

Well isn’t that convenient as hell thought Rock. All signs seemed to point to The BarFly Bar and that would be Rock’s jumping off point. Rock exited the cab making sure to give the cabbie a hefty tip not for the ride but the information. Any asshole can drive a car.

The BarFly Bar looked like the kind of establishment one would expect to get stabbed in. The bar smelled foul like a locker room and a well used port-o-potty combined. Jesus Christ Rock thought I’ve been in shitty bars before but this is by far the shittiest. It’s like every other shitty bar came to The BarFly and took a massive shit in it.

The windows where blacked out to spare the bottom dwelling patrons having to face the light of day. Cigarette smoke hung in the air wafting around the lights like restless spirits. The bar was located to the left of the main entrance. The bar itself was lined with decreped and wobbly stools patched together with duct tape.

The bartender/owner was a stout man in his early 60’s whose collection of tattoos had deteriorated into sloppy blurs over the decades. His large gnarled hands with thick calluses spoke hard life of manual labor and long hours. The wrinkles in his face where etched through time like the feordes and ran just as deep.

The handful of patrons were spread through out the bar all of them alone. The exception being a middle aged couple who seemed oblivious to the world around them as the slobbered all over one another. It was the equivalent of watching a extremely shitty home made sex tape.

Rock saddled up to the bar preferring to stand over sitting on one of the STD ridden bar stools.

“Hey Bartender let me get 3 fingers of Westminster Whiskey and an ash tray while your at it,” Said Rock slowly rescanning the bar.

“I’m Gunny bartending is what I do.”replied Gunny as he angrily pulled the cork from the whiskey bottle “Ive got no problem letting you know that I don’t like dicks in my bar private or otherwise.”

“Well at least you didn’t say cop. I’m looking for Eddie Oi he owes my client money. Thats where I come in.”

“Who doesn’t that grimy little shit owe money to? I haven’t seen him since I 86ed his bar tab, and told him until he repays it all drinks will be on a cash transaction.”

“You have any idea where he might be Gunny?”

“Hell no. But Justin Sane the drummer in his little shit band is in the stock room.” said Gunny as he started to wipe down the warped bar top.

“What the hell is he doing in the stock room?” Rock asked downing his drink in one gulp before signaling for another.

“Some junkie groupie took him back there, sad the high light of this pitiful girls rough life will be sucking Justin’s baby dick in the back of a shitty bar.”

Rock downed his second drink in the same fashion as the first. Turned to face the stock room door at the back of the building. Rock steadily approached the stockroom door preparing for whatever maybe behind it. Rock stopped right in front of the door, grasped the greasy door knob firmly, and shoved it open like a steroid ridden line backer.

Stockroom more like storeroom is more like it Rock thought the instant the door gave way. None the less there was Justin propped up against a pallet of beer boxes with his red liberty spike mohawk, tattered leather vest infested with a collage of various band’s pins and patches, generic white t-shirt with a anarchy sign spray painted on it in a sickly green, slew of amateur India ink tattoos that gave way to the track marks beginning to establish themselves. His cut off jean shorts around his ankles while some skanky bleached blonde was on her knees in front of him her head bobbing like she’d been infected with a potent fast acting poison, and the only cure was located in Justin’s cock.

Before Rock had a chance to react all hell broke loose. Rock was grabbed from behind and thrown violently backward into the door frame . Ivy Savage came barreling past Rock in a goddamn flash, then she snatched the groupie by the hair and tossed her aside like a fucking rag doll. The instant the groupie was sent tumbling into a near by liquor rack Ivy dropped to her knees. She grabbed Justin’s massive member at the base with one hand and the tip with the other. What happened next defies logic. Ivy now with Justin’s huge lap hog in her hands bite down on it full force like she was rabidly attacking an ear of corn. Inspire of Gunny’s disparaging comments pertaining to the size of Justin’s “baby dick” Justin was hung like a goddamn donkey. The kid was 5′ 9″ and a 100 pounds soaking wet and 10 of those pounds were due to his dick Rock thought sarcastically. Justin’s porn star sized cock was inevitably too thick for Ivy to bite it clean in half which seemed to be her true intent.

In spite of Justin’s unforeseen girth Ivy earned her moniker of savage. Ivy gleefully started biting mouthfuls of Justin’s schlong spitting them out one after the other while screaming like a blood thirsty banshee “I’M IVY FUCKING SAVAGE! I’LL POISON YOU LIKE IVY AND BRUTALIZE YOU LIKE A FUCKING SAVAGE!!!!”

Rock had had enough of this bullshit for the day. The groupie cowering in a corner kicking and screaming, Ivy’s genital based cannibalism, and Justine guttural growls as blood splatter covered the entire room. Rock reached over and took a bottle of cheap rot gut booze and brought it crashing down upon Ivy’s head knocking out cold. Rock turned and exited the storeroom shutting the door behind him.

“Holy Hell what the fuck is going on in there?!!,” demanded Gunny scowling at Rock intensity.

“Gunny, your closed for the evening,” replied Rock with calculated calm before promptly leaving the confines of The BarFly for the soothing insanity of the city streets. Then it suddenly occurred he had failed to locate the so called underground godfather Bloody Sod Bolloks.

“Goddamn it! Shit,shit,shit!! Goddamn Bloody Sod!” Rock said aloud in utter frustration.

“You looking to find Bloody he’s at the Methadone Clinic everyday at 5pm to hook up his daily dose.” commented a disheveled homeless kid who was lurking in a dark doorway like a ghost of society.

“Thanks for the tip,” Rock said handing the homeless kid a twenty “Buy some fucking food. Don’t spend all this on dope or drink.”

“Sure thing,” the homeless kid chirped excitedly at the sight of the twenty.

Sure thing my ass thought Rock as he turned away from the kid and headed off towards the City’s sole methadone clinic at a quick clip.

To Be Continued…

The Deviant Detective Ep.4 : Shit Sandwich Lunch Special