Friday, June 09, 2006


So here's the bottom line on life, according to coffee, and delivered through me:

Life is a fucking struggle. From your first breath until your last, it's a constant fight for survival. It used to be that all we needed were clothes, shelter, and food. We hunted and gathered, huddled in caves or built simple structures to shield us from the elements, and fashioned animal skins into makeshift body wraps to preserve the fire that curiously burns in each of us at a very predicatable 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit.

The problem, of course, was all of the fucking we've done since then.

Now we've got billions of people all over creation wrestling over natural resources, competing for political influence, and fighting for economic relevance. Individuals no longer shelter, clothe, and feed themselves. We count on other people to do all of that shit for us. And we pay them with money we earn doing other things of value. Meanwhile, we keep on fucking - sending the total population higher and higher year after year. And that means more competition for natural resources, land, political influence, economic power, and whathaveyou.

We invent things to make our lives easier, then come to depend on them. Cars, remote controls, microwaves, cell phones, e-mail, ATM cards - you name it. And since we don't need to spend our entire lives hunting for food, building shelter, and stitching clothes, we have a lot of free time to have something called fun. You might say that we, as a species, have worked awfully hard to get where we are today and we deserve to have a little fun.

But there's a little fable about a grasshopper and some ants that we probably ought to keep in mind while we're out on our cruises, tuned into American Idol, shopping for things we don't need, zipping about on thrill rides, and drinking ourselves half blind because life bores us to death: Winter isn't gone for good.

There remains much work to be done. The first frost isn't far off. Will it bring bird flu? More natural catastrophe? Nuclear self-destruction? How will we come to pass? By the heavy hand of something much larger than us - perhaps a wayward comet? By the soft fingers of something far smaller - perhaps a deadly pandemic? By our own undoing - perhaps another world war or glacial meltdown? This is not stuff to worry about. This is simply the work that needs doing now, or all of this fucking we've been doing since the dawn of time will have been, well, for naughty.

Now, if you'll excuse me, all of this coffee I've been drinking is initiating its exit strategy.

Thursday, June 08, 2006


Here’s a little something to help you break the ice.

Fun for minutes!

And if this doesn't make you grin, try calling someone a fuck nugget. It just rolls off the tongue. Go ahead and try it. Feels good, no?

Fuck nugget.


According to reports, Al-Zarqawi bit the bullet in an air strike and is no longer the elusive mastermind of Al-Qaeda's Iraqi terror network. That is great news. It's always good to be able to put a strategic air strike to a name.

As proof, the U.S. military released video with F-16s dropping two 500-pound bombs
and a copy of Sarah Jessica Parker's last feature film "Failure to Launch" for a total of three bombs. It is believed Al-Zarqawi managed to elude the blast radius of the traditional munitions, but was sucked into the vortex that is Matthew McConaghey's shit-eating grin and perished instantly. Paramount Pictures has been unavailable for comment.

Upon confirmation of this notable success in the war on terror, President Bush's approval rating skyrocketed to 12. It is expected the president will leverage this small victory to garner support for a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage. A White House spokesperson told reporters this morning:

"Everyone was up in arms about illegal wiretaps and the government spying on the people - but look where it got us. Al-Zarqawi is dead. This is clear proof that the president's policies are moving the country in the right direction. If we can ban gay people from declaring their love for one another before the law, the president thinks we may have a shot at bin Laden."

Tuesday, June 06, 2006


A friend wanted me to know that has set the odds of the apocalypse happening today (06/06/06) at 100,000-to-1.

A maximum $500 wager that the world survives could win you half a penny.

Is it just me or is this whole 6-6-6 thing a little out of hand? It's got nothing to do with the calendar or time or a day of the year. No place in the good book does it say June 6th of any year ending in "06" is going to be a bad day. Need a little background?

From the New Testament, Revelation 13:16-18:

" causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, so that no one can buy or sell who does not have the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of his name. This calls for wisdom: let him who hath understanding reckon the number of the beast, for it is a human number. Its number is six hundred and sixty-six."

Fear of the number 666, by the way, is the title of this post.

For reference, let's consider the date June 6, 1906 - which was also 06/06/06. Do you know what happened on this day? People died. A lot of people. And a lot of people were also born. In fact, that day was just like any other. In fact, the only thing of historical note that happened on that day as far as I could determine was the launch ot the Lusitania at the John Brown & Company shipyard in Glasgow, Scotland.

So there you have it. It's not the end of the world as we know it. It's fucking Tuesday and there's a pile of shit with your name on it - so get your nervous ass back to work!

Monday, June 05, 2006


There are so many things wrong with this picture I don't know where to begin. First off, there are still fries on the tray. How did he miss those when every grain of salt has been pounded out of the box in front of him? And how did that napkin around his neck escape the suction when they turned this fast food vacuum on?

Chuckles aside:

How can any loving parent feed a meal of fat, cholesterol, and grease to child so obscenely obese? Ten bucks says this kid didn't have a happy meal. I'm usually the last one to call for new legislation for anything, but man, there really ought to be a law. Or perhaps the industry could self-regulate and employ some standards. I'm thinking of those cut-out wooden signs at amusement parks that say "You must be at least this tall to ride this ride." Only, here it would be a big cut-out of Grimace or the Hamburglar letting you know that "You must be at least this thin to eat at this restaurant." For your own health and safety, of course.