Why fat chicks love sex more than you

I was told I was fat because I have lifestyle issues not because, "it is in my DNA." Life style issues? I don't know what that guy is talking about. I don't have any life style "issues." I like my lifestyle. I have been drinking coke and surfing the net all day. I drove to McDonald's for lunch so I could buy a Big Mac Meal because they have their Monopoly promotion on again.

I have to say that buying Big Macs is a great investment strategy right now with the Stock Market in the tubes and all. For 7 dollars I got a large Bic Mac meal and two bags of ice. The super sized Big Mac meal came with 6 free chances to win a prize, so I feel like I am finally on the road to financial recovery.

Friday my work reissued my lost payroll check. I cashed it and took all the money to 7-11 to pay my electric bill. The kiosk took all my money, but it did not credit my account. I called the customer service number and they promised me that the money is going to be credited soon. "Maybe Wednesday or Thursday." The operator said. I told her that was kinda shady and she told me to stop eating chocolate graham crackers and cola after eating a Big Mac for lunch. I wanted to tell her to mind her own business, but she has a point. I'm fat. And because I am fat I promised to tell you the secreet to why fat chicks love sex. I will, but hang on for a second. I'm not done talking about me yet.

I need to buy a tire, because I got a flat the other day. I think the tire is going to cost me a hundred bucks. I haven't made a truck payment to Card Shard this month. I need to do that this week, or at least at some point this month. I need to shop around for cheaper car insurance, because 120 dollars a month is too much to pay for a 2001 truck.

I do have some good news on the finance side. I have not received the bill for the internet which means I can still blog at home for you before I go to work. I won 280 dollars at poker last night. My share is 140 dollars and with it I can buy a new tire even if Walmart refuses to honor the warranty Card Shark says he has on the flat.

I have 21 minutes before I need to get ready for work and I am down to my last chocolate graham cracker cookie and I have not even started all the research I need to do in order to deliver to you my newest report on why fat chicks love sex so much.

My initial hypothesis is an extension of an earlier theory I had on why the retarded love sex so much. If the mentally retarded are going to survive in the world they need to reproduce at a higher rate than the non-retarded. That is why evolution equips the retarded with an almost insatiable curiosity for sex. The retarded are constantly playing with themselves and dry humping unsuspecting visitors anytime some one knocks at the door.

I am not sure about "legally," but ethically you can't rape a retard because they love sex so much. I am pretty sure the same thing goes for fat chicks. If you have ever had sex with a fat chick then you know how grateful they are for penatration. FAt Chicks loves cock and even though you have heard the rumors that fat chicks gobble down all day on your rod because they are woried you will leave them for a skinny chick, I am telling you to skip the foreplay and go straight to the fucking.

As soon as you put it in a Fat chick she will scream like you are cutting through her with a chainsaw. I don't know about you, but I like a loud fuck. I like it when the girl bucks and screams your name and claws your back and begs you to put it in "deeper."

I did some research on the internet and by research I mean I watched a lot of fat chick porn on the internet. You know that I review amatuer porn clips but that I can never find a site that lets me embed the clips. I figured out why. I forgot that the best web site for embedding porn clips is Red Tube. Here is a fat chick. They look limber when they bang you.

I've always wanted to hit a woman

I've been fasting so you probably shouldn't take anything I say seriously. I tried to quit drinking coke today. I had 2 cokes for breakfast. At work I drank tea with no sugar. I gave up fasting 3 minutes ago and cracked open an ice cold can of coke. I gulped it down as quickly as I could. I got such a rush that I popped open a second can. I am trying to type for at least a few seconds before I drink that one.

I know I am not supposed to tell you that I've always wanted to hit a woman. I just wonder what it would be like. I don't think it is such a big deal. To be honest most days the thought never enters my mind. Women have hit me before. But I've never taken the idea seriously when given the opening.

I know I've lost a few of you for good here with this post and that's ok with me. I know that you are going to say that I have crossed a line and some lines you just can't cross. You CAN'T TALK about the idea of wanting to hit a woman.

That's funny to me. I've never hit a woman. I never will. My momma raised me right. I just think it is odd how we can't talk about something that every single man has thought at least once in his life. A few men hit all the time. I think we need to understand why.

I will never hit a woman, but I have hit a man before.

Imagine if I had led off with the statement, "I have hit men in my life." Ask yourselves if you would feel threatened by me. Would you consider the statement by itself to be toxic? I will wager you that would not have. That's because it is ok to hit a man. Men are violent and we expect violence from men towards men. Moreover; women demand violence from men.

A women will always question the masculinity of a man afraid to be violent towards another man. Every woman I date expects me to perform "violence" if the need arises. I would never expect the same from my date. I would not question her loyalty to our relationship if she failed to intercede on my behalf during an altercation. The reason for that is simple. I do not require my partner to engage in fisticuffs, not because I have "evolved" any more than the average women, I just grew up in a society that does not require women to be physically aggressive. Because of that I know I could not count on a women to help me if I were in trouble. Society explains to men early on that men must battle the world alone.

Conventional wisdom suggests that if women ruled the world we would have peace. The secret to understanding why war still exists lies not in the violent genetic disposition of men, but in how society acts upon that tendency.

Any woman who has suffered at the brutal hands of another woman's merciless teasing knows full well the cruelty that resides in their sex. Women use stealth rather than force only because women do not come prepared for physical combat the way men do. Women lose fist fights between men and women.

I can never get an agreement from women on this point. They all seem to want to say that woman are as tough as men, that they could whip us in a fight. At the same time they want to say that women are more peaceful than men. I guess from the female perspective, men are lucky that women are holding back on us. I tend to see violence in a woman's desire to argue with me over their inate ability to crush me.

I wrote this post because I was just curious to see when both men and women are going to awaken to the realization that we could live in peaceful society. Most of us are so tied into are our animal concerns about surviving that we are willing to live with violence because we fear danger. The fear of danger is the most pernicious enemy of a healthy society.

I know I can't worry about you judging me for this post so that's why I went ahead and posted it

The day after I shot a man in the face was the first time I ever felt powerful, so I guess you can't blame me for scooping up the latest pictures of Miley Cyrus looking like a slut for your enjoyment. I don't like looking at a picture like this because unlike you I am not that much of a voyeur. I like having a normal girlfriend and a normal relationship life. That is why I am attracted to good looking, funny, and intelligent women-not the little girls you like. But I post these pictures as a service to you so you can jack off to them and stop circling the playground so much and worrying all the soccer moms that got that flyer from the sheriff's office with your picture on it. I know what you are thinking, if I am attracted to smart good looking chicks what is the problem? Why am I still single? How hard can it be since I like girls who are legal? I'd like to think it has something to do with how I am picky and I like really attractive women, but I think it has to do with how smart, cute, funny girls have standards and I never measure up well to standards, because unlike pedophiles I never practice trying to pass statistical tests. I am a creative type and we need more freedom and breathing room than the facts and figures can give.

You should think of me like an independent film with subtitles and no plot even though I am an American. I don't open the big screens like Batman does, but every once in a while a movie like me comes along and even though the first part is boring you start to appreciate a film where the character gets developed and the plot moves along in congruence with the feelings and ideas of a flesh and blood person, not simply as the side show for special effects.

I know what you are thinking that sometimes even quirky independent movies suck and you are sick and tired of how all the so called "quirky" characters in independent films are all really the same. That might be true, but sometimes when you floss your teeth they bleed out for three hours, but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't go ahead and floss them once a week anyway.

Either way it appears that Miley Cyrus has no idea how to stop acting like a whore despite all the bad press, and I guess that is a good thing for you. It just goes to show you that god had something planned out right when it comes to repopulating the Earth with sluts. Every few years the sweet pre-teen with braces who loves daddy and jumps in the garden sprinkler grows breasts and discovers for herself that empowerment means having power, and since she does not have power in the real world she begins toying with the idea of using her sexual awakening against the pathetic man-boys staring at her through closed windows hoping to get a peak at her nipples when the water begins to work its magic on her bathing suit.

I don't know if you can tell the difference between this post and any other post I have written, but I will tell you that I was totally phoning this one in. The sad thing is I could write five or six of these posts a day and if I added a few more pictures of Miley and Britney I'd end up making a few dollars a week from Adsence. Instead I work hard all week looking for inspiration because I am stuck with the idea that you are looking for a blog with integrity. Even though I only write when I want to I still get worried that the people who read this blog are bored waiting around for the three posts I write a month, because they have decided that my blog is just not worth it if they are not sure what I stand for. I think you should give me a break and not force me to tell you in graphic detail what I do here, because if anything that only stokes the disdain I have for the audience which only means fewer posts for you. By now if there is something I should not have to tell you, it's that if carefully defined I have a great deal of integrity.

That's why I am always trying to come up with a new angle to attract someone other than the mid 30's married alternative mom that I can't seem to meet in real life, but only on the net where they are already married and ridden down with offspring, so I really have no hope of getting them to jump ship with me, so I guess I will always be alone, because I live in a town full of crack heads and old people who care more about money than well defined integrity. I guess what I am saying is that my sense of integrity compels me to point out how wrong it is for a preteen girl to feel OK about subtly using the power of her sexual awakening against a horde of horny social misfits for profit all the while complaining about all the misunderstandings that she is perfectly aware she is creating. Confusion about your burgeoning sexuality is not only natural, but is inherently a private affair; hence, it is no one's business. Not even a perverts. But the naked manipulation of said sexuality for purposes of avarice leaves one open to critique which is why you will find Miley's photos posted here. I hope you all appreciate how much I have had to hold your hand here, and explain things to you because then you can then begin to understand how much smarter I am than you. I know how thankful you are for this service, but it only fills me with pity for you. All this anxiety gives me a pit in my stomach that grows ever more hallow. I am sure you are all the reason I have acid reflux and throat cancer, and one day when I can't breathe from my esophagus closing in on me I want you to have a nice ceremony at my funeral where you engage my blog in the literary theory that you took at community college, which on second thought will probably end up sounding a lot like some small town Oprah Winfrey's book club meeting, so maybe I am having second thoughts on that. Maybe you could just convince a middling blogger to give me some air time now that it is clear to the world that I am not a pedophile just a hard working social critic.

Cut Off Your Pussy: A three part treatise on the history and evolution of the sexual double standard

PART 1.

The old sexual standard



A BRIEF PRIMER ON THE HISTORY OF THE SEXUAL DOUBLE STANDARD: the ancient sexual double standard stems from primitive woman's weakness.

Why do we need to learn about the double standard? Because you can't spend more than 5 minutes on the Internet looking for the latest self pics of Disney teen stars without being interrupted by some middle aged feminist and her gravity obeying tits shouting, "My VAGINA IS UGLY AND THAT IS SO NOT FAIR! Why DO MEN GET BETTER LOOKING WITH AGE? Why ARE ONLY WOMEN JUDGED FOR THEIR BEAUTY?"

How you can learn to stop blaming men for the sexual double standard...and start loving YOUR EVOLUTIONARY HISTORY.

Not so long ago during the infancy of our species, womankind, struck a Faustian bargain with the male sex. Man promised to protect woman. The task of protecting woman was not easy. Woman wants shoes. Many shoes. Woman carries shoes even at risk of getting eaten by bears.


Man evolved from his selfish animal need to survive in order to satisfy his promise to protect woman, which is why men walk on the outside of a sidewalk when on a date. Men know their bodies can't stop cars, and it really doesn't make a difference because the odds of getting run over are small and getting in the way of a car is not really going to slow the car down, but women accept this token of protection because they get the pleasure of knowing we promise to die first.



CULTURE TEACHES MAN ONE THING:

IN THE EVOLUTIONARY LONG TERM THE SUBJUGATION OF WOMAN IS UNTENABLE

[see part three]

tHE POWER OF CULTURAL LOGIC IS THAT IT RUNS ITS OWN COURSE, iT CARES NOT FOR THE SELFISH INTEREST OF THE INDIVIDUAL. THE POWER MEN DERIVE FROM CULTURE STEMS FROM ITS REALITY TESTING AND TRUTH TELLING.

MAN EVOLVED FROM A (RELATIVE) POSITION OF STRENGTH TO CREATE CULTURE, on the other hand, women are weak and evolve towards cuteness.

Nature has a communication method all its own. When a thing is cute that is nature's way of saying, "Ignore me. I am not a danger to you. Also please don't eat me." No creature will eat anything cute. It's just not done. That is why the panda and the koala bear survive.

***A tHING tO REMEMBER***

a WoMAN is "cute," because she is no threat [evolutionary SPEAKING] to MAN.


Because women are weaK, women MUST be cute. Women do that thing where they trace their finger down your arm when they are walkING away from hugging you. They lose hair in all the right places. They are soft and like to smell like vanilla. I like those things about women. So do the lions and jackals. We must accept the evolutionary truth that "iN THE PAST IT MADE PERFECT SENSE fOR A WOMAN TO CEDE CONTROL OF HER BEING TO HER MAN FOR PROTECTION."

{HINT}

A woman will tell you men that it doesn't matter what your dick "looks like." When the woman wishes to seduce a man in order to aquire his protection she will will tell him,"that it does not matter how big or small your penis is." In addition, she will tell him that she does not care how big or fat or how bald he is, because looks are not as important to women as they are to men.

The woman who tells you "looks are unimportant to her" knows an important fact, but has stretched that fact to fit a lie.

DO NOT MISTAKE A WOMAN'S LACK OF SEXUAL INTEREST IN YOU TO BE INDICATIVE OF A LACK OF SUPERFICIALITY

AN ASIDE: The differing superficiality of the sexes should be understood as the differing mating strategies of the sexes.

YOU MUST UNDERSTAND THAT THE WOMAN SEEKS YOUR PROTECTION AND SHE WILL ATTEMPT TO MASK HER INTENTIONS to you

A BRIEF EXPLANATION OF THE IMPORTANCE WOMEN PLACE ON THE SCURRILOUS CHARGE OF MALE SUPERFICIALITY

For eons women have complained that men seek only beauty in a mate. ( They forgive us when we create the David, or mono lisa, or the empire state building, do they not?) Was this also not because in the past the only commodity a woman had to offer was the beauty of her offspring?

Women who complain about men who place a high imporance on thier mate's beauty are simply those women nature has failed to bestow its bounty on. It is a defense used by the ugly.

REMEMBER an ugly woman is a weak woman from the point of view of nature.

The ugly woman seeks to distract the male from his natural mating strategy: to procreate with the most attractive female available. An ugly woman seeks to contaminate beauty by conflating it with superficiality. This is an effective and deviously clever strategy. Naturally man is wary of the superficial. Man's caution around superficiality is the reason why he owns only 3 pairs of shoes at a time, a number most women find unfathomable.

***REMEMBER****

Man is not superficial. His desire for the most attractive female available is simply the most effective mating strategy nature has ever developed.

***

A woman who is obsessed with superficial will spend the resources of a man foolishly. With his resources wasted a man can not protect his mate, nor could he aquire additional mates he desires. This is why a woman marries as rich a man as she can, but spends him to the poor house.

Therefore; men are naturally wary of superficial women. An ugly (but clever) woman exploits this weakness by suggesting that the male preoccupation with attractive mates is superficial spending. But a woman will never admit her concern with male 'superficiality' is mearly her displeasure over male mating strategies that place her at the bottom of the rung.

{ HINT CONTINUED}

Women don't care about 'your looks,' because they know looks are not highly correlated with money. The secret to the old sexual double stand was that men WERE not judged on looks but on their earning potential*.

translation- A woman uses your income to measure how much you can protect them from the cruelty of nature.

PART 2


THE CURRENT STATE OF THE SEXUAL DOUBLE STANDARD

THE SECRET TO THE CURRENT SEXUAL DOUBLE STANDARD IS THAT MEN WILL NOW BE EVALUATED ACCORDING TO HOW MUCH THEY EARN AND HOW SEXY THEY ARE... MUCH LIKE WOMEN WHO WILL BE DRAGGED KICKING AND SCREAMING INTO THE WORLD OF WORK.

Man hoped for peace between the sexes by developing culture. Culture provides protection for both sexes and offers the possibility of equality for all. But nature has selected against this possibility. Men are selected for the qualities of the past. Men are aggressive and ugly. Science has shown the female body is preferred by lesbians, straight men and straight women. Only gay men prefer the male body. In the immediate future there is a distinct possibility that woman will likely out earn man. She is already considered the better looking sex. Power will shift slowly but inexorably from man to woman.

Once again a bitter inequality in nature will arise. As man transforms nature to reflect the softer characteristics of the female he will naturally dig his own grave.

PART 3

TOWARDS A THEORY OF THE THIRD WAVE OF SEXUAL DOUBLE STANDARDS: THE tRANSGENDER OF MANPUSSY & LADYBOYS

iN THE FUTURE WE ARE ALL T-GIRLS.

Man-pussy eliminates the ugly vagina. No longer will thousands of women be subjected to the horrors of a labiaplasty. In the future we will be the "best of both worlds." Droopy tits will be a thing of the past. We all get Firm and Voluptuous implants for breasts.

We keep the dick!

Personally I can't wait for the future.

eric schaeffer on the coming revolution:

Your boyfriends, husbands, and pals are fantasizing about sucking tranny dick - June 27, 2008

Okay geniuses, this lesson is for you. Listen up, it's a little complicated so I'm gonna go reeeeal slow. I'm a straight man. All straight men look women up and down. God made us that way. Take it up with him if you have a problem with us checking you out to see if we should impregnate you to propagate the species. The same desire women have to doll themselves up so that our cocks will get hard and want to go in you to propagate the species is the same instinct we have to look at you. Straight Darwinian AND God stuff. Deal with it.

Secondly...

In general, gay men don't want to fuck trannies.
In general, gay men don't want to get fucked by doms wearing strap ons.
In general, gay guys... like to fuck other gay guys.
In general, women, gay or straight, don't want to fuck trannies.
In general, women, gay or straight, don't want to get fucked in the ass by doms wearing strap ons. (Obviously lesbians have a slightly higher proclivity of course but that's mainly in their pussies, not in their asses.)
In general, bi sexual guys like real cocks when they fuck guys and therefore don't go in for doms, some for trannies but less so than good ole regular gay guys

So that leaves one kind of people who are the NUMBER ONE GROUP INTERESTED in FUCKING OR GETTING FUCKED BY TRANNIES AND GETTING FUCKED IN THE ASS BY DOMS... wait for it... STRAIGHT MEN.

It will be the powerless, straight men of the future who will transform modern society into the Third Wave I call the Transgender society.

The only way to stop this is for women to stop asking for pay raises. Women need to stop graduating from college at higher rates. We need a more level playing field in the realm of looks. Attractive women need to mate with uglier men.

My plan may not work. But if you do not try it you might as well sew a penis to your daughter's vagina.

I am way too nice now to give you a lecture on the passive-aggressive interplay between the sexes

I am on this new kick where I am exposing myself to the world for the nice guy that I really am. I am talking to you about my sensitive side, because I don't want you to think that if we were in a relationship and you brought home a kitten I would really train it by lighting your bottle of hairspray on fire and spraying it at the cat.

I mean I would light the can on fire and and spray it every once and a while just to let the cat think it is possible that not just water comes out of spray bottles and it better behave itself. I think it is important to exert dominance over animals otherwise one day they may get it in their heads to to eat you if you forget the kibbles and bits.

Speaking of me being nice here are some pictures of Britney Spears looking less fat than before. I guess if you are like Britney then you used to be cute but then you got pregnant and decided eating was way more fun that getting looked at by boys. I don't blame you for your over eating as men are assholes, and the mean truth of it all is that if Britney lost her high paying job and fame she'd just be another single mom at the community pool hoping to play house with some reformed gangster who just got out of jail for selling dope.

I don't know why you go after reformed gangsters, because gangsters don't take care of their own kids, so what makes you think he's going to take care of your smelly brats? The sad truth is he is just using you for sex and the sadder truth is you know it, but just can't help yourself. Your last boyfriend was so bad in the sack and had such a tiny disappointment for a penis that you will do anything short of shoplifting cucumbers to feel something in that stretched out womb of yours.

I applaud your life affirming decision. Most people in your situation have given up on life and have lost all their enthusiasm, but not you. It doesn't matter how much weight you gain you still feel entitled to an orgasm. I guess taking all those feminist classes in college wasn't a complete waste of money for your dad. I bet he rests at night easy knowing that your fat ass is getting hammered by a big black cock.

And I know that the reason I don't have a girl person, even a girl person like you, is that I am slacker and somehow being a slacker is worse than being a drug pusher. "At least drug pushers have ambition" and your biology compels you to mate with men who can take care of you. I understand that part of the psychology of women. What I don't understand is how you mix up the ideal of a 'man with ambition' with the current incarnation of man you are with who drinks all of your Budweiser and replaces it with the Natural Light that he steal from his pot head friends.

What makes even less sense to me is that most of the women who read this blog have money and don't need a man to take care of them. Even if they didn't have money, our modern society allows you to exert control over your own finances. But women are filled with the funniest anxieties. You all wonder how a man will react to you ending up in a wheel chair. Even though most people will never become paralyzed you constantly quiz your man over his desire to remain with you if "something truly awful ever happened to you."

The truth is most people bail in those situations, and you aren't being any different to me in my situation so stop being so judgmental. You aren't paralyzed, or horribly disfigured, but I am poor which is the male equivalant. I am a bonafide slacker and therefore I will be unable to care for you. You don't need to worry about the possibility of me running off on you as you get older and ugly, as you are already bailing out on me faster than K-fed after he gets a girl pregnant. So the real question is not if I will stick around if you get deformed, that is a difficult mental equation invlolving my emotional attachment to you that has to be balanced by my future ability to acquire someone better. I make that calculation every second I am with you and asking me to turn that unconscious mechanism off is like asking me to stop breathing. I can try for a while but all it will do is is leave my blue in the face.

No, the only real question here to ask, is are you going to look past my inability to earn to see the real human being I am? Stop obsessing over hypothetical questions about the future. Ask yourself how you feel right now.

My guess is you can't, because deep down inside women are not liberated enough yet as a species. You ask questions like that because you don't assume you can take care of yourself. You aren't really looking for a partner, just a substitute for daddy in the bad times. Plenty of men date ugly women, thereby violating the state of nature that our male gender bequeaths to us, but most homeless men have to make do with raping shut ins- no matter how witty and clever they may be- because so few women have any real confidence in navigating life by themselves.

I am nice and if you don't believe me I will punch you in the face (metaphorically) because that's what writers do

I know you wonder why I never write anything nice about women. I know I am not a writer just a blogger, but you get what I mean because for some reason you actually read this blog, and you can't blame me for that, you have only yourself to blame, and whatever happened to you in your childhood.

You probably read all my jokes about fat chicks and assume I am either the misogynistic asshole I hold myself out to be, or you assume that I a jokester and all my jokes can be wrapped up in the tin foil of chub.

I have to admit that writing jokes about fat chicks is easy and I like taking the easy way out most times, but so do you. That's why you don't call your mom except maybe on Mother's Day and then you make a big thing about how you remembered her special day and sent her flowers and bought her a copy of Funny Girl, because what doesn't brighten Mom's special day like a Barbara Streisand movie?

I know your mom appreciated you sending her the flowers and she will will probably wear out the VHS in the tape you bought her. Personally I think it is about time your mom went digital. You can get a cheap DVD player for 20 bucks at Walmart.

I wrote this post to show off my sensitive side and I realize that I am not doing a great job of that but being sensitive is risky and tuff and I don't know that any of you have earned me divulging things like that to you. Even if you did I can't say that I would have done a better job of it than this and you are just going to have to accept that. The good thing is only 10 people read this blog and only 3 people listen to the podcast I work on so I won't be disappointing too many folks out there.

Disappointment is one of those things you have to learn to live with as you get older as you realize all your dreams don't come true and god in whatever infinite wisdom he claims to posses doesn't think the world revolves around you even though he gave you a momma who told you it did and he gave you the vanity to seek it out. I'm sure you momma didn't mean to lie to you, but the really cruel part of it all is that god blessed you with just enough talent to recognize how talentless you really are.

I know you may be devoid of any real talent but that never stopped a lot of people ask Rachael Hunter. Have you ever seen any of Rachael Hunter's movies? She can't act and she can't pick a script or a director and she isn't even pretty anymore, but she sure as fuck isn't going upstairs just to sit in an infant nursing rocking chair and cry about it all the while trying not to listen to the sound of her husband's rock star persona dissolve like the fake smoke plumes from a miniature train set.

No. She went up and stairs and divorced Rod Stewart and now she fucks her boy toy on the beach. All Rod Stewart does is make all those boring Christmas Albums you love so much and play with his gold plated choo choo train.

I am not sure how to make that a really happy ending for you as Rachael Hunter will continue to make those god awful made for TV movies for the E-Network. But one day God will judge her for that, and he will get his sweet revenge. I can't wait for that day, and I hope I get to heaven just so I can watch him enact it.

Me? I don't really see happy endings, but then again I am not paid to write happy endings. I am not paid to write this. There is no such thing as rainbow brite. There is no such thing as happiness. I don't like telling you that because I stay unhappy as a protest until we all get to be happy, because that is me being sensitive to your feelings, but I guess I just don't like it when you all go being happy even though that was our agreement for you to be happy.

But don't try to be happy. It's like trying to be interesting. Some of you do interesting things. It doesn't make you interesting. It just means you might be aware (unconsciously) that you are boring. I know this because some of the most interesting people do nothing all day and some of the shiniest people doing the busiest things make me want to vomit on their couch and tell them that their Labrador did it. I know the next day the Labrador won't get fed, because you plan on taking him for a ride with you in the car to the park, and you don't like throw up on your Saab's interior, but that Labrador is old and fat and could stand to miss an meal. And, yes, this means I will write fat dog jokes if you don't like me writing fat girl jokes.

I hate you and I will not stop hating you until you make yourself a better person

I don't have any readers and I don't care. The smaller the audience the less I have to sell out to it.

You don't have to explain yourself to a small readership.

With so few readers I get to write whenever I want which means unlike you, with your giant fan lists and hungry blog roll, I get to wait for inspiration.

I guess it's a good thing that I don't like explaining myself, because nobody ever writes to me demanding that I tell them all the secret symbolism that I hide in this blog. I can't tell you how comforting is for me that you will all take every thing I say so literally. You're like my very own little group of wife stoning Southern Baptists.

I know none of you care, but here is one little secret I will let you in on. I named my blog Bathos for the Misanthropic after you.

You aren't a good person.

You aren't even really nice "after we get to know you." My opinion of you, is that like me, you are a bunch of misanthropes. You are all sociopaths and you hate the rest of your species even more than you hate yourselves. But most of you are just too much of a pussy to admit to it.

The joke is on you though. At least most of the time on this blog it will be. Except when you stop reading me, and then the joke is on the local Mail Box etc. where I bought all those business cards that say 'professional blogger' on them. I bought all those cards with over drafted credit cards. I always run up the maximum credit limit allowed on my credit cards and then never make payments on them.

I do that because my parents never taught me lessons about financial responsibility. The only thing they ever taught me was that the landlord has to give a renter a 3 day notice before you evict them, and that if you cry while handing your son a wooden toy wrapped in newspaper on his 14th birthday, he will cry too and say "thank you daddy for taking me to goodwill and not forgetting my birthday this year like you do most years," and then you can save all the money you would have spent buying stupid things like cake and presents for kids and instead spend all that money on whores and beer. Who do you think really deserves it more? Of course the whores do, and my liver tells me I like beer. The older I get the better I understand my daddy.

I guess I really shouldn't complain about the newspaper wrapping my daddy put on my toy, as my toy was wrapped in the sports page, which just goes to show you that my daddy did love me, as I would have picked out the sports page myself, if I were to wrap my own present. I certainly would not have fought over the comic pages like all brothers and step sisters did, even if I really wanted them and it was my birthday...

I bought a hand mirror today and I can now confirm for you what people have been telling me for years, I am balding.

I am mixed up kid. I am white trash, but I like to read and I never learned how to fix cars. Which just makes me bad at being white trash and really annoying to my middle class friends. I am so bad with cars that I don't even know how to change a battery. I googled it and watched a video and I am still confident that I am going to have to hire a Mexican or a grease monkey to come over to my house and replace my dead battery. I don't know a lot about blue collar workers, other than I think they all look like Erik Estrada, and are probably way more into ass play than you would think.

I guess everything would be ok if I had taken my love for reading and stuff to college and gotten a degree with it. Then I could afford to pay for the Mexican to take my car apart. As it stands now I can barely afford it, and so I will have to take the look that comes from some "macho" dude rolling up his sleeves and fixing on my car, but I can't shoot him back that look that says, "I don't do this because I can pay you to do this." My guess is that holding my career over a blue collar worker (who can at least fix the things I break) is about as difficult as it is to impress all the 15 year old girls I do. They fuck me. But they never look at me with any respect.

I am going to change the subject to my girlfriend. Whenever I find myself with a girl I try to imagine the things her parents (or especially her girlfriends) are telling her about me. I am sure they are asking her what she sees in me. I know I am not much to look at, so she doesn't even get points for that. I can't dance like a gay man or fix things like a He-man. When I watch movies like Rudy I don't cry like a man should. I don't choke back a few tears or a tiny sob near the climatic end of the story.

I cry throughout the entire movie like a little girl who is watching her pony get punched in the face by an on coming tractor trailer. I weep. I have to wipe away streams of tears. My face gets hot. I get flustered and my whole body turns red. I run a fever and get headaches that last all night at work.

What you would not know from that is that I have been told I have a certain kind of genius. It's not a genius that most folks would ask for. And I would have preferred something a little more bankable. You might take a guess that I am "good with words" or funny or something like that. But you are wrong. I can't make a living typing or writing anything and folks mostly laugh at me in public. I mean maybe I am funny, but lots of people are as funny as me in person. And most people think my kinda funny is mean, and that's because they think I am making fun of them. And I usually am.

To learn about my genius you would have to sit with me for a few hours at a time. Maybe even a few weeks or months or in some cases a few years. But you would start to get it then. I can be entertaining. I tend to accept you, and don't think I need to change you. I am funny. But not always ha ha funny. I don't do jokes well as you can tell, you read this blog. When you read a "joke" by me on this blog then you can bet that I am struggling with what I want to say, and I am not being very authentic about it.

I might be a genius, but I am still broke. And since I am white trash that means I don't have health care. Which is ironic because I am a hypochondriac. A hypochodriac without health insurance is pretty mixed up. Even though I always think there is something wrong with me, sometimes there really is. It's allergy season and I am having a terrible time with my allergies. I think my red runny nose and bloodshot eyes have more to do with the occasional seasonal affliction of allergies which Arizona is now known for, than the Super Aids which I am most probably dying from.

I was taking Claritin until I noticed that it causes liver damage. It also gave me a few more heart arrhythmia than I thought was absolutely necessary. Now whenever I bend over my head hurts. I am still shitting green and yellow and I think that means I have Pancreatic Cancer. I hear you die quickly with that so I guess if I you still see my writing in a few months I can deduct the P.C. from my list of worries. Actually you can deduct the cancer from your probable list of my afflictions, but I still plan on worrying about it.

I have this idea to get a hold of some kind of government services for free health care. I plan on blogging how that goes. My guess is that I am going to die of whatever infection I have right now before I ever get any access to any medical care.

I am about to pick on some of you in the medical profession. I guess it's a good thing we call it a profession and not care giving. If it were care giving you might feel bad about care denying and asking me if I have insurance or suggesting that my only hope for admittance into your e.r. is if I think I am dying. I know you don't plan on admitting me to the hospital unless I am having another heart attack, but the least you can do is take a glance at me and tell me [I mean that person] that I am not going to die or something.

Not every person who walks into your counter is trying to trick you into getting free health care. They just might be overreacting to ascare brought on by a bit of paranoia and a large amount of seeping puss. Your advice to that person to have their doctor check them out later is not much in terms of advice. It's like yelling at someone to be careful right after they fall. Nobody appreciates that kind of thing, and it just makes you look like an ass.

Looking back on the time period when I had me some health care it's kinda ironic that I am now pissed off at someone getting denied medical service. The one time I had a health care "provider" he prescribed Effexor to deal with my depression and some kind of acid reducer that was supposed to help my Acid- reflux. All it did was give me liver failure and yellow shits.

I know you think this rant has had precious little to do with you how I hate you. But you don't work in the medical profession, or if you do, and you read this blog, you diagnose me with real problems from fake symptoms. But I appreciate that. Some of you are my best friends, if I had best friends on the Internet.

I used to have the definition of Bathos on this blog:

a. An abrupt, unintended transition in style from the exalted to the commonplace, producing a ludicrous effect.
b. An anticlimax

But somebody convinced me to take it off, and that has probably confused the dumber people who read this blog. They like to pretend they know what I am talking about even though they need a dictionary just to read me. But I have already blogged about why I hate you before. Like I think you care more about dogs and cats than you care about homeless people. And I think that makes you worse than Hitler.

I got attacked by another stray dog today. Which was bound to happen given your careless attitude towards fencing your animal and the 40 billion dollars or so that you spend on feeding them. I think I should have stood my ground and kicked it a few times as the dog was smaller than me and I was pretty sure I could win the fight. But the dog was slow running up to me and the bike I ride is really fast. So fast that I doubt you could keep up with me if you were running along side of me for too long.

Also, I think you'd rather sleep in today than do anything about all those little babies with flies in their eyes in Somalia.

I'm sorry. I don't just want to make you feel bad. I wanted to make you feel good about the path we are on as humans. I had a long speech prepared for you about how tiny we are in the universe. But I composed it while at work and work frowns on me using the voice recorder while I ring up your stupid groceries. And I can't remember anything I told myself while you hunted for exact change.

For the most part my speech went on about how we are evolutionarily speaking still provincial creatures who have barely raised our collective heads out from beneath the muck of creation. Our sense of morality is based more on disgust of the other than anything helpful to us.

That doesn't bother me. Like its white trash cousins, Humankind, can't help where they come from. It doesn't bother me that you prefer sleeping well at night rather than face the forces of evil. I don't blame you for that. I have a hard time sleeping myself, and I know what a good night of rest can do for you.

I can't fault you for being a coward either. I don't like risking things myself. The guy who says it is better to have tried and failed, probably never failed at anything important, and if he did fail, he probably didn't get knifed in the back for trying it. If he did you'd wonder how he ever got around to living long enough to say all of those things about trying so much. Me? I prefer the sidelines of life. I don't need to participate in full contact sports to get a rush.

I can get a rush out of just cheering for the winner.

I teach you things about Lesbians

I like the fact that the only people who read me are fat lesbians. I say fat lesbian like there is some other kind. I'm sorry about that fat lesbian crack. I know a lot of fat lesbians, and I don't mean to hurt your feelings.  In fact most of my girlfriends have been fat lesbians, so I've learned a few things about them because of that.

Like I know the different categories Lesbians.  First there are the masculine Boy-lesbians. Boy lesbians look a lot like prepubescent boys. They have short spiky hair, they wear boxer shorts and hang their pants off their ass like gangsters do. Boy lesbians scare the shit out of me. Boy-lesbians are militant feminists. And even though they are anti-penis they love penetration. Sometimes a boy-lesbian tries to pass herself off as a guy. Don' worry too much guys, boy-lesbians don't want to physically transform into a man, because being a boy-lesbian is so much fun. The just want to try on being a man. You know like finding out what it's like to pay for dinner and shit. Boy-Lesbians [aggressives] love to hook up with lipstick lesbians.



Lipstick lez's aren't even lesbians, they are just tired of guys getting "off " before they finish their orgasms. Watch out for a Lipstick lesbians. They will blame you for all their sexual problems. I know a lot of lipstick gals who've never used a vibrator or explored their pussies with a mirror or even watched an entire episode of Rosanne. How do they expect to achieve orgasm with some one else when they can't even give one to themselves?

The other kind of lipstick lesbians can only get off using a vibrator and so have ruined themselves for normal dick. I have two words for those bitches. Fuck no! I am not inserting a metal rod sideways into my dick just because your shit is so stretched out from giant black dildos and numb from that pocket rocket electrocution that you can't feel my three inches of thunder!

If you aren't a lipstick vag or boy lesbian then you are probably on of those fat lesbians.  Too the fatties reading this and getting pissed off at me, don't. I know you aren't the kind of fat lesbian that turned her vagina away from dick, because the guys don't like you. You're fat. But not ugly. If you had a six pack of beer, a copy of Planet of the Apes for us to watch, and could stomach laughing at my jokes for an hour, you could get laid by me.

Then there is the reluctant lesbian, or the lesbian who just had too much religon mixed in her mommie's baby sack. Reluctant lesbians know that lovin' a chick is wrong and will get them to hell. But they have such overgrown clits that every time a hot chick walks by they get a boner like I did in 6th grade swim class. I remember how I forgot my swim trunks that day and had to borrow a pair of green see-through speedos that the school supplied for the idiots who forgot their trunks.  All those cute girls walked past me and I checked out their stiff nipples and got a boner. Only nobody knew you had one because I hadn't hit puberty yet, so my little wiener was more a like a Vienna Sausage than a life-sized cock.

I have no idea if that's why I developed that fetish for naked male /clothed female porn, or if the Vienna sausage thing got me excited about Sigmund Freud, and he made me want to be a psychologist until you figured out that would require a lot of work, and I was a lot more interested in jacking off than reading books and doing homework.

(I can teach you a thing or two about fat chicks. Even Though you may hate fat chicks.)

Because you are not the kinda fat chick who's pussy stinks, you may not know a lot about stinky pussy. First point of fact. If you are fat chick and if you think you have never had a stinky pussy, then I have some seriously fucked up news for you. Your pussy stinks. Your pussy always stinks and it's stinking right now. Do me a favor. Sneak a peak down there. Ok, now go smell that finger. I hope we got clear on this, Captain Tuna! You get my point.

The best thing about fat chicks is they have cleavage. And the best thing about cleavage is it look a lot like ass, only tits and cleavage don't drip shit out accidentally. The scary thing about fat tits on chicks is sometimes those chicks don't really have big tits. I mean sometimes it looks like they got a big rack. But sometimes those tits will turn out to just be a big fold. Some fat chicks have a skinny girl's small tit genes and just love to eat. And some fat chicks just have the random bad luck to have small tits and a giant frame. I've paid money for freak shows, but I always ask for my money back it they show me into a room full of fat chicks with tiny tits.

Some things are just too freaky, even for T.
snuggles.

p.s. funny thing is I wrote all this shit before I watched the documentary "aggressives." I just watched the documentary because I downloaded it for free from the public library.

p.s.s. I prefer the term I invented for aggressives, boy-lesbians. Don't you?

Cinco de Mayo is fun!

All I know is people are mean to me. I can just be sitting there taking a piss in a urinal and something bad can happen to me. I don't like pissing in a urinals because I have a shy bladder.

I know you are probably thinking that my shy bladder has some thing to do with my small penis size, but you are wrong. I don't care that you know about that. I have spent thousands of dollars on phone sex for women to talk about my small cock. Sure most of that money was secured from credit card withdrawals that I never paid back. But 50% of my income over the years has been borrowing money from credit cards and not paying it back.

Cinco de Mayo weekend was no different. Three guys were in the only stall in the bathroom at the club I went to. I am not sure what the name of that club is, but if three guys can sit in the only stall for over twenty minutes then I think you might have and idea about exactly how Westside this club actually is.

All I know is I was finally managing to coax the urine out from my bladder into the splash urinal when all at once the three guys decided to open the stall door and burst out towards me. I am not sure where I developed the cat-like reflexes to simultaneously stop pissing, zip up and dodge three men and and their exploding door only 6 inches from my ass, but I did. Maybe it's all the Spider Man movies I've been watching. So maybe it's not cat-like, but spider-like reflexes. But you get my point all the same anyway.

You would think spending Mexican Victory Day over the French (who hasn't had a victory day over the French?) with three of the sluttiest girls you've seen in years would make me feel OK. Or at least seeing all those other sluts that walked around in half shirts and small dresses with hard tits from the unseasonably cool weather-that none were prepared for-I guess no one watches the news anymore-would have at least gotten me off.

But it didn't. Instead I wrote poetry in my head.

Nazis
in high heels
walk past me

I don't remember the rest. Just that a lot of hot chicks are out there and none of them will screw me. It got me thinking again. And I probably don't need to do that. Spider Man wants me to be an Existentialist. He wants me to think that my choices define me. That we can choose to be good or evil. I swear to god he almost got me. But I am stupidly emotional like that. Choices are bullshit. I saw it on a Penn & Teller.

My Cinco de Mayo sluts all wanted to dance. That's why we left the Cinco de Mayo celebration. That's how we ended up at some ghetto Westside club. That's when I noticed how odd other people are. I don't know what comes over you guys. But some of you out there hear a base groove and get this orgiastic compulsion to shake your ass.

I compare that compulsion to dance the way that Freud thought about religion. I guess you are under some kind of oceanic feeling. Maybe that's why you dance. I have no idea. The white bread in me has so mutated out in me rhythm that it is impossible for me to comprehend what the big deal is about dancing.

At least 2 of the slut girls wore short skirts. And I am pretty sure one of them didn't care how many times her tube top fell down again to expose her fake tits. I can masturbate for years from that. And she can't take that away from me. Even if this crazy chick is not the "slutty sister."

The so-called non-slutty sister told me in hushed tones that "she hadn't had sex in three years." That she could "almost feel her virginity growing back." That's hard for me to believe. Your tube top fell down like six times. Almost as hard to believe she told me that she never touched herself.

"You haven't had sex is three years and you don't even touch yourself?" I asked her. "Yep." Was her reply. "I don't even care about it anymore."

I lost the chance to bond with her over that. I can't remember the last time I has sex, but I think it was when Reagan was in office. My friend may be getting his MoJo back. For that I am glad. I don't begrudge other people's happiness, no matter what you may think of me. But I have lost my MoJo for good. I am not getting any younger, or any better looking anytime soon.

I don't want to say that I smell death nearby. In fact I will probably outlive my desire to be alive. If that hasn't happened already. I guess you could say that I can't get a chick because I am not positive enough. Chicks always want some one positive and passionate about life. Someone with a plan or a purpose.

I guess I am passionate. I always tell chicks in my mind on Yahoo personals that I am not very passionate. But maybe I am. I am passionate about you not being so god damn passionate. I don't even know what the fuck that means. But you get my point. The point is stop fooling yourself and look around. There is nothing to be excited about. We are all going to die and there is probably nothing we can do about that. And there may be no point to living anyway after all.

I don't think you can make a philosophical case for life at least. But I soldier on. Because that is where we are at as a species. We have come to the ultimate awareness of our own absurdity. Absurdity is the only concept Existentialism got right. And for that we are eternally grateful. If by grateful I mean a thousand jumpers thank-you.

My stomach is upset. It feels all sicky. Like it collects bile. I can't sleep and I am tired and wired at the same time. I am not exhausted, I just feel spaced out. Like I took too many sudaphedrine. I have medicine head. My acid reflux if shaking and growling at me. Tums will not do the job. My stomach growl was louder than the movie I watched tonight. I hope none of you heard it. If you did you might have thought I was farting. But I wasn't farting.

When I close my eyes I see stars. Like a kid hit in the head with an aluminium baseball bat. But I'll try and spell better next time. Sorry about that. It's just that I see sparks. And I get so light-headed these days. All for no reason. The sparks look like grainy 1964 color home video. And I am Zapruder. And I am following around Anna Nicole Smith.

Maybe I will go bowling this week. But I don't think so. I know the library has misplaced the book they have on hold for me. I went sometime a few weeks ago. They said they had the book, but when I got there. No book. Why is that? What makes them think this time is going to be any different? I am going to go again today. To the library. And that book better be there. Or there just might be hell to pay. Maybe I will be that asshole guy for a change.

"I'd like to speak to your manager. Just where the hell is my book? I came all the way down here , because you guys said my book was ready. And now I get here and there is NO FUCKING BOOK IS THERE???"

"No fucking way! I can't fucking take this. What the fuck are doing? How do you run this kind of place? Why can't you just go look for it in the hold section? It's not in the new book section! I don't care what the computer says, I've looked there. I used to work in a library. This library in fact, so I think I can find my way around. OK!!? Get it? I think I know that it's not here!"

No it's not just going to appear. Otherwise it would already be here so don't put me on the list again. It will just cycle up and the book is lost and it won't be here when I get here and I will ride my bike all the way down here and the book won't be here. Do you know it's 90 degrees outside? Do you? It's fucking hot outside asshole and you made me walk all the way down here and now I am not getting my book what the FUCK?"

But you know I won't do that. I am not your fucking alpha male and I am not here to rescue you. Take some advice from me if you will. Follow some of the things I teach. You will get there someday. And I will be right behind you. Knowing the whole time you could do it! Because you are all so beautiful, man. Beautiful.

I drank way too much soda. What do you think? Maybe too much soda? That's all it probably is. Get away from the fucking computer. Quit it. Stop looking over here at me. Like I am the freak. Like just cuz I am a bit deformed. Fuck you. You're deformed too. Quit trying to get at me. Get out of my head.

The buzzing. The fucking buzzing. The fucking buzzing in my head. That's the problem. It won't stop. And writing isn't making it go away. You could just stop reading you know, stop having such a sick and adverse reaction. If you don't like it. Then stop reading this damn thing, OK? Isn't that simple? It's not DRAMA. Ok? You just pretend to get over me and go on defrosting frozen dinners. And picking up spilled shit off the floor.

You could just let it lie there. The whole world is just falling apart anyway. Second law of thermodynamics and all. This post could have ended a bit ago. But I don't like making things easy on you. Your life is already easy enough. The tall girls in high heels. With proud tits. Walking by me. Past me. Didn't you see me? Did you know I was there?

There are things I could do that could make you aware. I could make you notice me. I could make you aware after all. Stop walking around unconscious of me damn it.

No. That would be worse wouldn't it? Don't notice me. Please don't notice me. I don't want your judgement. Your appraisal. That negative energy. If you gave me any energy at all it would be negative. Because we hate the ugly? Don't we?

I do too. I hate them too. All the uglies. Those fuckers. some of them demand things. Not in crisis. Not from despair. They just want. They want to be able to want. Like they have some kind of entitlement to their desires. Their putrid ugly desires. When they have sex it is always grimy sex. Nasty sex. When they do it. They do it ugly and dirty. They don't shine they sweat. And it accumulates in their folds. Smells. Dirty diaper rotten smells while they fuck and they don't stop fucking they don't care they just keep fucking anyway dirty fucking and fucking unclean.yuck.

Misanthropic Quotes and Rants

There is no reason to repost any of this shit below, but I am going to do it any way. It's not like any of you are interested in learning about more about great stripper songs by UFO.

"You know it's been a while since I've encountered the soothing touch of a female human. I thought your foot was that little dog of yours that enjoys licking me so much. You know the one you trained by spreading peanut butter on your crotch. Seriously, that dog likes people too much now. It's sorta creepy. From now on couldn't we just leave the dog locked up when I come over?"

I am not sure if that is what you are looking for you when you Google misanthropic quotes but I love the idea of you spreading peanut butter on your vagina just so you can finally get some action. If the idea behind the story is a bit autobiographical then I apologize to stepmother's favorite cocker spaniel. But they don't name the dog cocker for nothing.