Sunday, December 31, 2006
So that you would understand me. Some of you would have liked me. The antinomy tearing at your mind relentlessly like the knife I would have used. The turmoil in your mind can only be drowned out by the sound of blood gushing from your neck. You speak, but only in gurgles. When the blood abates and your precious oxygen can be drawn in. Your draining life interrupting your sage advice.
Only I don't like the killing part. I am not squeamish or timid. But my erection doesn't need to be soaked in the wounds of others.
Maybe I am just not as damaged as I'd like to be. But for now I lie still. And I will protect you. I will not unleash it.
But this story doesn't sit well with you. No, the prodigal son returns home. But not to victory. Not to set things right. But out of logic. Because the laws of action have consequences. Contingency is the most powerful source of our knowledge.
Where we to track events carefully we would find their solutions to be just. To be truthful. Physics cannot be sorry for its solutions.
Only in movies does science fail. Most likely you will never hear anything from me. Consider this my gift. You won't. You do not see the forces that swirl against you. You do not see over the tide that threatens us all.
I am a lonely ship captain. Who's one duty is to set sail into the maelstrom. But a good captain always goes down with his ship. Lifeboats are for rats or deserters.
If I do fail. It was not my fault. I went down with you too. I will perish alongside of you. Doing my best to steer you safe harbor in a storm.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Just because I am a loser that doesn't mean that I spend all my days looking for the next big thing in Jailbait
Anyways it been a slow week in the news for underaged girls. Sometimes I just steal music off the internets.
It's a lot more difficult to find the Jackson's Victory Tour on Lime Wire than you would think. Instead I had to settle for some Waysted and Kelly Clarkson.
Whenever I listen to really dramatic music like Kelly Clarkson I cry. I think I need some more Paxil or something. I am pretty sure Kelly's preteen audience doesn't get misty eyed over "Because of You."
The only other time I cry myself to sleep is when I listen to Lindsey Lohan's little sister sing Christmas songs. After hearing her sing I knew the devil existed.
Now that you know about Kentucky Chicken, I'd like to know just what the fuck Justin Erik Smith is talking about when he calls meat eating genocide.
Even his title suggests that he's not quite sure if there is an animal genocide. He starts the off the essay noting that only a non repentant Nazi could compare meat eating with death camps. But that doesn't stop him from noting that "10 billion animals die each year" just so they can be formed into Chicken McNuggets.
"Some point out, compellingly, that it is absurd to carry on about animal rights in a world in which we are doing such a poor job of ensuring that humans enjoy human rights."
Monday, December 25, 2006
In the dream where I save the world from Aliens the World throws me a bitching "after party" featuring my favorite band UFO
CNN's Larry King and various famous people evaluate my strategies like a really important Superbowl halftime show. There are long boring pedantic lectures by world famous philosophers on my tactics.
Other scenes flesh out the requirements for being selected as the "choice." The individual must not be too abnormal. Can't be a Mother Teresa type or a Steven Hawking IQ dude.
The choice must denote and be in touch with humanity. A decent level of verbal and written communication is necessary to build your case. A mixture of good and bad that "fight for his soul" is helpful.
We win the argument by admitting to our potential for evil. But we promise to work on it. We get a reprieve.
THE Bitchinest AFTER PARTY of ALL TIME
I peg UFO to front the musical celebration. The sell hundreds of millions of records. I hang out with them on stage and even KAROKE a few songs. The bootleg CD's of my performance stay at number 1 on the Billboard charts for 10 years.
People like me.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
- Atheists believe that life is meaningless.
- Atheism is responsible for the greatest crimes in human history.
- Atheism is dogmatic.
- Atheists think everything in the universe arose by chance.
- Atheism has no connection to science.
- Atheists are arrogant.
- Atheists are closed to spiritual experience.
- Atheists believe that there is nothing beyond human life and human understanding.
- Atheists ignore the fact that religion is extremely beneficial to society.
- Atheism provides no basis for morality.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Did you know that you could buy something that analyzes your poo? I didn't but Spider Man's girlfriend does.
In my very first post on this blog I blogged about my poo. Mary Lou Henner was going around pimping her new book. The book devotes multiple chapters to your poo. That led me to my current fixation on mentally organizing my morning dump.
I never really cared about my poo until Mary Lou. But once I recognized it as a possible health concern I began to worry every time I went to the bathroom. I would look my poo over for consistency, weight, color in hopes of gaining some kind of insight into my health situation.
I don't know how much this might cost but if you forgot to get me a birthday gift or are looking for the perfect Festivus gift, now you know.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
4 means you like doing this activity, and would like to experience it on a regular basis.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Monday, December 18, 2006
Sunday, December 17, 2006
A wide ranging podcast that doesn't take itself to seriously. No tin hat wearing paranoid, the podcaster believes that Osama destroyed the Twin Towers and The New World Order is the result of paranoid anti-Semites.
I can't say that there is anything like this podcast in the world as we speak.
I do have some concerns. The podcast seems to be recorded on one of the 99 cent microphones and the podcaster has no ability to mix music, audio files or sound effects yet. He doesn't even know how to post a blog for this podcast.
The first posting is simply a test run to see if he could get a podcast posted on the Internet. I am not sure that all the effort needed to simply do that was worth the final product which was a bit amateurish.
Friday, December 15, 2006
"I, Vincent Gallo, star of such classics as Buffalo 66 and The Brown Bunny have decided to make myself available to all women. All women who can afford me, that is. For the modest fee of $50,000 plus expenses, I can fulfill the wish, dream, or fantasy of any naturally born female. The fee covers one evening with Vincent Gallo. For those who wish to enjoy my company for a weekend, the fee is increased to a mere $100,000.
Heavy set, older, red heads and even black chicks can have me if they can pay the bill. No real female will be refused. However, I highly frown upon any male having even the slightest momentary thought or wish that they could ever become my client. No way Jose.
However, female couples of the lesbian persuasion can enjoy a Vincent Gallo evening together for $100,000. $200,000 buys the lesbos a weekend. A weekend that will have them second-guessing."
Actually I kinda feel sorry for Vinnie. He'll never know the joys that only male erotic love can give. I "hear" that men give the best blow jobs.
Don't think I haven't figured out who my target audience is. My target audience is nothing demographically like me. Sure there are more than a few perverts who like this site. I know the perverts because you get here by searching for nude pics of Jena Malone. But they don't make up the majority of readership.
My readership is largely female. I know I take a risk by posting some of this jailbait stuff. Because I also know how smart you are. You are smart. Very smart. Way smarter than most of the guys you know.
But you like me because I am smart too. You can identify with my "outsider" self. You are most likely fat. Maybe not huge, "I need a forklift to get to the McDonald's." But you are fat. At minimum you have the "fat girls complex." So even if you are not fat, you are the kinda girl who can enter a room without anyone noticing.
You probably have a great imagination. You needed it. Because no one wanted to be your friend. You probably flirted with a case of the bisexuality just because you're easy. You crave attention and affection.
And you know how desperate I am to give it to you.
I tell you how I feel. How guys feel. How you feel. You think I am kinda incredible for this. You get butterflies in your stomach because of all the truth I tell you.
But deep down you've pinned your secret "staying with him" hopes on me being a genius. It makes you feel real smart that you knew I was a genius before anyone else. Even if they don't find out till after we are both dead.
I am sure many of you may not understand my choice of Jena as Jailbait. I mean isn't she now 24 or something? True. And I think she might be a real artist or something. I know she only makes artsy films and stuff. The stuff is of course a youtube page called "of wild animals and the loss of her sister."
And you've got to go check out the stuff. Jena enjoys making student films. Jena really likes to sing too. She even has a recording contract. I think they gave it to her because of the wife beaters she wore in Cheaters. I am all for that. That wife beater rocked. And Jena really rocked that wife beater. I am not ashamed to say I beat a little to that. If you know what I mean. If you don't know I can't explain it to you. It might be a little uncomfortable for us.
Don't take my word. Take the word of one her 17 year old subscribers, "This is amazing. Jena's more talented than I thought. She can act, direct, sing, and be arty."Jena's youtube experiment is still fresh. She only has 690 views and 27 subscribers. We can all get in the ground floor of this thing if we want. And I want. I want it bad.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
According to Blogger:
Logging in with an old Blogger account to post a comment on the new Blogger is giving a “please try again later” error. Until we fix this, it may work to log in first at http://www.blogger.com/login.g, and then go to the comments page on the new version of Blogger in beta.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Monday, December 11, 2006
While the rest of you write about your personal problems or celebrity gossip on your blogs. I am doing the really heavy lifting that blog writing requires from a "h" level blogger celebrity.
I have to be very careful about what I write because as the google's foremost authority on Jessica Hawn the world takes my opinions seriously.
That's why I didn't initially post my response to this story. The post was in the form of a "real time " blog.
Journal entries of a guy freezing to death.
Its cold and we're lost.
Still lost and cold.
Burn tire. Burned second tire.
Now she's even breast feeding the toddler. God that's hot! How can I still be horny when I am so damn hungry?
I lost straws. Guess I get "lucky" enough to try and get help.
Fuck, it's cold. Should have burned one of them kids for heat instead of the tires. If we had tires we might have been able to drive back the way we came in. If we hadn't used up all the gas on "keeping the kids feet warm."
Hey haven't I seen this creek before? I am tired. Just take a nap here for second. Then I'll head back to the car.
I know what you're thinking, "too soon." But every now and then I need to shock you in to some common sense. If you give a shit about this guy at all you should shoot yourself.
Or I'll do it for you. You're like my favorite cousin on crack. Do I have to piss on you for my pornographic incest webcam before you hit rock bottom? Because I will. I will pee all over you.
You "feel" for the guy. I know, but it's all just a trick of your brain. You are responding to a dramatic story that you've able to visualize and dramatize. You give a shit about this guy because you can relate to it. You can imagine yourself in his situation. You can wrap your brain around it.
Unlike say all the kids being exploited and killed because some soccer mom needs a 6 carrot piece of rock on her hand. The 61 billion dollar diamond industry is responsible for untold death and misery. Financing war and impoverishing the very people it should have enriched.
But other than infertile Hollywood mothers who cares about African babies? The national emotional outpouring for this one unlucky family is incommensurate and illogical considering the magnitude of suffering that every single one of your married fucks has personally fostered on tiny African children.
Don't even pretend to tell me you have never heard the diamonds are blood story. Stop feeling good about feeling bad about how some dumbass who can't use mapquest waits 9 days to long to go looking for help.
Just throw away your diamond rings and donate a few dollars to African village. Burn down a McDonald's. Do something.
This post is dedicated to anyone else weirded out by how happy his wife looked when she got rescued. She didn't seem concerned at all about the husband. I am just saying.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Saturday, December 09, 2006
My brother Jeramey thinks we should hang out more often.
But I just tried that recently. We left the house to go get some cola. On the way to a convenience store I was accosted by some Mexican kids. None of whom were of an age that could be said to be greater than 8.
"Wanna see a donkey show?" One of the children asked.
The children must have caught the bewildered expression on my face. What followed my expression was an eruption. A cacophony of laughter at my expense.
So I think you know now why I prefer to stay indoors. And avoid any trouble while my stay keeps me in Palmetto, Florida. And instead order "Free" On Demand movies from Lifetime.
Tonight's movie download was- Blindsided. Starring Jeff Fahey and Mia Sara. Its current position on the Amazon.com Video Sales Rank is: #40,752.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Thursday, December 07, 2006
I know you haven't talked to your stepbrother in 10 years. So I am not sure how you guys were able to square your stories so quickly.
Funny thing is your not very angry at me. "You feel sorry for me." And you're more mad at your Mom than me. I think that says something.
Your stepbrother says his hand was flushed down the toilet. That is quite unfortunate. You were both "thrown" in to a kitchen wall. That probably hurt.
I seem to recall something else. I remember secret meetings where you and your stepbrother planned to kill me. I remember fearing for my life.
You think you remember "things." Touching.
You don't remember the audio recordings do you? You don't remember the doctor reports. Where did all the blood go? Did you go poopie in your pants instead?
Who the fuck is Andee? Haven't you guys ever heard of false memories? You have video of a false memory. I have a tape recording of you denying it.
Who licks people in a car? You never said that. Just the interviewer. Do you remember that?
Stop blaming me for your failed lives. For your inability to be strong. For your failure to become successful. Maybe your just a miserable person.
I did my best.
This post is dedicated to finally getting "it" off my chest.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Saturday, December 02, 2006
I don't think the "controlling interests" of the world would ever allow a book like this to be published.
History begins some several billion years ago. That is when some UFO's thought it would be a good idea to go exploring. Ufo's help build the pyramids and have sex with apes. That's how we get black people.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
I don't think it would be a great deal of trouble for one you to start my very own Wikipeda article.
I think you can see why I might like that.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Sunday, November 26, 2006
I messed up and posted a poker story about bacterial infected dildos over at my other blog. I meant to post it here.
What I have told you in the past was that RomiusTexis is the home of my "real life only fictionalized."
I didn't really think that one through. I should have been more precise. My real life at work fictionalized is what I meant. Of course the Romius T. character got a lot of fleshing out over there, so it is kinda confusing for you and me sometimes.
I won't bore you with the details about my copy/paste function not working so there was no way I was going to rewrite the entire post on here and then delete the post over at R/t.
That wasn't so bad was it?
Since you were OK with that story, can I give you a little nugget to use the next time you are outdoors pissed, bored and in the company of a few willing friends?
I'd like to introduce the concept of "inappropriate clapping" for your use and pleasure. The inappropriate clapping technique works at most KAROKE bars or with most shit house bands. But feel free to use it a your child's rehearsals and at family gatherings.
Proper use of the inappropriate clapping entails only the simultaneous clap in the middle of any really annoying performance. Any point where it would seem to make no sense you just interject a bit of random clapping. People will follow along with you sometimes. Be prepared for that.
But make sure you have at least two friends with you when you attempt this. You may have to kick the shit out of the "German" waitress who actually enjoyed the musical stylings of her guitar solo playing 56 year old ex hippy whose vocal range mearly extended to "do...do.. doing" most of the lyrics because he'd rather get high than remember words.
And just because today my brothers and I looked like the tourists you are always playing for suckers doesn't mean we're going to fall for the old "Sorry, I just learned English because I am from Germany" routine like the rest of your middle aged patrons.
And if you do over hear us remark "that your cunt smelled worse than an 2 day old aborted fetus" let me suggest you just take the comment as it was intended.
As productive criticism, rather than as the "Bitchy snipings of nearly middle aged man suffering from young pussy withdrawal." As you so eloquently informed us in your delusional belief that a "Valley Girl accent" you affected could actually pass muster as proper Deutschland barking.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Monday, November 20, 2006
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Friday, November 17, 2006
Orange you glad you are not my friend in real life? Or how you should never add Larry King as your MySpace pal.
No I am really here just to say "Hi." Sure there are all kinds of ways to say "Hi." But dropping down a few lines on someones myspace says I care. I really care.
Sow how you doing? How's that novel coming along? Got any funny characters yet?
Also if your site doesn't have any playmate characters all over it, maybe it has ponies. Do you like ponies? Because I don't.
I would also prefer you didn't go looking around my other myspace friends and look to find which ones I gave the exact same post to.
Because we are real friends and any amount of time I devote to any of my other friends doesn't mean a thing. You know that don't you.
So how is that House coming? Is it getting all fancy? Have you settled in. Did you remember to leave a door open so I could get in and hide in the basement? Did you remember to delete all those love e-mails you keep sending me so your "hubby" won't find 'em?
That's a good girl.
Did you really think I could forget you? Maybe you could post a few more photos on your myspace.
I miss seeing you how you really are. Flash frozen and digitized. You're so less "back talky" this way too!
I still consider us friends even though somehow you have misplaced me on your "BFF" list. It totally did not bring me back to some high school era of insecurity.
I know our friendship is long lasting, I am in your will. But other people are starting to wonder. Why don't we just ease their minds and put me back in your list.
Otherwise, I mean who knows what I am capable of. Nothing really bad, I won't go after your kids. I realize you need the child support money for your "medicine."
Momma needs her medicine.
We might be brothers. We might see each other every day. But I still feel the need to "connect with you."
Maybe it is because I don't like being homeless. That's what our other brother enjoys. But he's hobo sheik like that. Me I just prefer to get on your good side.
How's that novel coming anyways? Is it going anywhere? Any conflict resolution yet?
Sorry about making that crack about you being a hobo. I know you're not a hobo. I just said that cuz your brother would think it's funny.
You're not gonna stop introducing me to all those crack whores you know are you? I need to get laid. It's been a while now. But I think that you know that, don't you. Don't hold out on me buddy.
I could have just given the same post to you. I know we aren't MySpace friends yet, but I do come over to your house for a little "poker." And I am not just talking about card games am I?
Is it inappropriate for me to make jokes about your "milfish" wife? Then I guess the other things I do to her are even more inappropriate aren't they?
Go ahead add me.
The writer's flaw. A hot chick always has just one flaw. You know to keep her from being perfect, so none of the fat chicks get all insecure.
I might be a dude, but I think even I go near the tweezers a bit more often. It's like they are on some kind of mission to take over the middle of her face. If her face was the board game Risk the brows would be making a bee line to Southern Europe.
And I don't think I need to tell you to stay away from choosing Southern Europe when we play risk together. You know I am always Southern Europe. Fuck, my name is Romius Texis muthu fucka.
I also like to select North Africa. It's a bitch to keep the middle in that board game, but watch out if you do. All you fuckers who take Brazil have some kind of vendetta for North Africa it seems.
And some people like my ex-roomie "Fro" just seem to love to antagonize me by selecting the home of the Roman Empire away from an actual Italian. That just means a blood vendetta on your ass.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
I just want to live. To be free. And to occasionally find one of those 3 pack Zingers repackaged as a bonus 4 pack
Fuck Google. And I know they are watching, listening and saving everything I do on the internets. So you know I just said Fuck You.
What ya gonna do about it? Nothing. Cuz you're bunch of faggots and pussies. That's why. You can't do anything to me because if you want access to my trade you must abide by my internal proxies and shit.
I'd tell you about the post, but that would be like sharing an inside joke with you and then not sharing all the inside info you need to get it.
Let's just say you had to be there. Let's pretend you were.
I can rant for 10 paragraphs because you all seem to enjoy picking on people in real life. Pickin' on folks is something I avoid. It's why I am better than you. That'swhy I pick on K-fed. Because he's not human.
All my 'real life' torture builds into a riff about how my well known inferiority complex isn't really true after all. Next I admit getting a bit depressed when I contemplated how Three Toed Sloth gets like 10x the hits and 17 more comments than I do. I've never gotten 17 comments on anything that I've ever written. Except for the Dr. Phil thing.
Sure, most of the 17 posts where asinine at best or just cutesy. But one came from a pretty hot chick. Well her back was pretty cute and that's all I saw.
But I got over my infatuation with Cheese lover's back pretty quickly after I read some of her myspace blog entries.
"we are all going to DIE if we get skinny."
Notice her use of capitalization. I opined that the blogger borrows her style from President for Life George W. Bush and his rhetorical use of "9-11 changed everything."
Only in reality you are not going to die if you get skinny. In real life only good things happen to you if you get skinny. The most important one is you will live longer. Getting skinny is the only scientifically proven way to expand the human lifespan. That's why all those starving Ethiopians live so long. So quit thinking skinny doesn't make you look better, because it does.
Cheese lover disagrees with me she thinks that, "We all look fine."
What... you've never been to a Walmart? We most certainly do not all look fine.
I am slacker. No amount of hard work or good luck will change that. I may never be able to support myself, but that's OK. Because I have to come to accept that about myself.
Why can't society? Why don't we abandon consumerism and gender roles and you can pay for my dinner and support my ass while I attempt half-assed blog entries and pretend to write that novel nobody will read.
I'll watch the kids, honey.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Brit Brit filed for divorce by Text message. Go here to witness K-fed almost getting upset while looking at a text message on his phone.
World exclusive. That some chick spammed me with.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Monday, November 06, 2006
"Sometimes I wish that things hadn't gotten so screwed up between us."
I know you are probably holding all those things I said about you against me.
Like how I told you that Brittney was so way cuter before she ever laid eyes on you. That you aren't successful because of anything you ever did other than forget to use that condom you never think of buying.
Or how you are just a young preteen girl's trailer park trash wet dream. Or like how I imagined Brit's vulva needed to be "popped in a Florida trailer park restroom floor."
Maybe I shouldn't have said any of those things. I guess the "what if" question lingers throughout anything and everything that goes down.
But I still don't think that is any reason to avoid me.
Because you can't avoid destiny. I am going to ghost write that autobiography of yours. How do you think stories like this end? Nothing but fairy tales, man. You are going to rescue me.
Take a hard look at your music, man. Nobody understands you any better. They just gonna toss around words like wigger. I am not black, so I am not sure if I can even use the word wigger. But I did. Maybe one of my black friends will tell me to take it out of this post. And if they do, I will. But that doesn't stop you from being a wigger, or from the whole world thinking your a wigger.
We aren't myspace friends. It's cool. I'm really glad that everything is where it is between us, for now. If I could have it one way or the other, I'm still glad I have it this way. Because trials only make you stronger man, ask Saddam. You take as long as you need to get there man.
Just get there is all.
This post is dedicated to the art of stealing someone else's blog post and making it your own. Go see.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Saturday, November 04, 2006
I have finally gone Beta in Blogger. Now you don't have to search all over for posts on alike subjects. And I don't have to try and link all those subjects together in my posts.
I still have a lot of work to do in labeling all my posts. I am taking requests for any particular subject you would like to see on the sidebar.
If you are worried that my blog no longer links to you, don't. I will get around to linking back to you. You will also see a few different lists and other things as I play around with beta's new features.
Hang around me long enough and you'll get exposed to one of my diatribes against police officers.
Why I hate them so much:
You are more likely to get killed by a police officer than terrorist. That's right. And that's after accounting for 9/11.. If you are sitting at the local Donut shop you'd rather see Osama Bin Laden walk in the door strapped with a backpack and a detonator than the have local county deputy stop you in the wrong part of town after midnight for being brown.
Being a cop is safer than you think.
Working at Circle K or driving a taxi is more dangerous than being a cop. Yet you never hear chicks speak in some cultish glow of affection about gas station attendants.
They don't do anything.
Most of a cop's time is spent doing paperwork, or dealing with arguing spouses and busting celebrities for pot. It is extremely unlikely that cop will ever save your life or even be around when a crime takes place against you.
What is possible is that if you are unlucky enough to get mugged by a mob of prostitutes while exiting from a strip club the cops will only look to avoid filling out a police report.
Cops get laid more often than I do.
Because too many women many still worship these guys as heroes. It's not because their jobs are dangerous, it's just that women are all to eager to submit before the power and authority that police represent.