hey, Singapore!

So apparently I'm getting 1,000 hits a day from Singapore. Can anyone tell me why? 

I teach you things about Lesbians and Fatties (edited from an earlier post)

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 think I've learned a few things about them.

Like I know there are many different categories of 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't worry too much guys, boy-lesbians don't want to physically transform into a man, because being a boy-lesbian is way more 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 [aka 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?

You've heard advice that women should, "discover their bodies through the use of dildos."  Sound advice unless taken too far and that's usually what happens to the lipstick kind of lesbian.  She discovers her clit and then goes to town.  Eventually she can only get off using a vibrator and so she's ruined herself for normal dick. I have two words for those bitches. Fuck no! I am not mutilating my dick by attaching metal rods 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 I 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 I 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? Here's the YouTube.

Don't check your blog stats

They serve only as a reminder to depress you.


Talked to a nerdy girl at a bar last night.  I like nerds.  I want to get with a nerd.  She was ex-Mormon and made a joke about 8 year old boys and the pope.

I could be in love.

Totally got cock-blocked by her friends.  But she "just" turned 21. 

You say.  "Maybe that was a good thing as I should date women my age."

Are you serious?

Somebody ought to fix this.

If you Google "How to kill your baby and get away with it."  You will get no useful information.

For the Phone Dog

I have bad dreams

I keep having this dream where it is my 40th birthday, and all my friends and family forget that it's my birthday, and nobody writes me, and nobody calls me, and nobody comes over to visit.

So I write this long post on Facebook about how I hate my life and the world and I decide to kill myself.  I buy a bunch of pills and start drinking and arrive home to a shock.  A surprise party.  As soon as I stumble through the door I throw up and pass out.

I wake up to a stomach ache and a severe headache.  I see a number of family members and friends through a halo of dim eyesight.  I have only one remark for them:

"So this is what Hell is like."

Aphorisms and Anotations

Knowledge is useless.  The ability to see all sides is what paralyzes god.

I follow John Larroquette on Twitter.

The gray carpet underneath my feet is scrunchy.  I would like to tell you that it is not wet with my cum, but I can't.  I guess that starts us out kinda creepy.  And that is regrettable.  I like to keep  my creepiness to myself and slowly let you in on it.  That way my creepiness is more like an inside joke that we share than some kind of mental illness on my part.

Like when I tell you I can't control my shivering around women anymore and that I am not too sure how long I can make it if I don't get some sex soon.

I'd offer to sit you some place other than next to me on the couch, but that would require moving all the used paper plates off of my chair, and I hate moving shit off my chair.  My chair is not for sitting. My chair is an extra dining room table.

Also you sitting close to me is about as close as I get to sex.  So I take your human heat and imagine it to be a warm blankey that you have given me to sleep with when I call out your name in the middle of the night, because of the sleep terrors I get.

I know this makes me seem like a kid to you, even though I am 40 and you are half my age, but I use little mind tricks like that.  Not on purpose.  Not really.  I mean no harm.  No harm is intended.  All you do is think of me younger than I really am when I use my mental tricks on you.

Don't judge me reader.  Nothing ever comes of it.

JL did not write this, I did.

I need to stop reading your personal ads

If I read how one more person likes to watch movies and enjoys listening to music I am going to puke on myself.  Then I am going to make you eat it off my stomach,  because that's how I roll.

I roll with a giant plastic tarp attached to my truck that I lie out before you, all the while forcing down your throat the puked out residue of my intestines, all because I get sick of reading the same banal shit about how you enjoy doing things that are awesome, but hate doing things that suck.

Other things that make me want to decapitate you?  When you talk about how you are interested in being challenged, and how you need a man with goals.  I don't have any goals.  I think goals are stupid.  What happens if you get all your goals before you are dead.  Do you just sit there for the rest of your life wishing you had sucked at the lower levels of life more?

Life is not a video game.

If I have to read one more personal ad about how you want to "grow" I will be forced to grind your decapitated head into hamburger meat and feed it to your now orphaned children.

Grow what?  The only thing I have noticed growing is your ass.  And now it has gotten way too big for either of us to know what to do about it.

The only thing I can think of for you is to for you to continue your junior college study of Oprah on the Lifetime network and for me to start dating your teenage daughter.  At least she puts out on the first date.

Signed.

An exasperated man.

Nothing much happened today.

Which I guess is okay if you are me.  I mean who am I to ask for things to happen to me just so I can write them down for you to enjoy.

Number 1.

You don't enjoy anything.  So why the hell should I go about the hard task of taking all the mundane shit that happens to me and try to make it seem interesting.

I won't.  And I don't.

But at least I am writing in this blog again.  I think we can just turn this blog more into a daily journal than a place to go for my creative writing since my creative writing is so shitty anyway.

Poop Watch

I took one today.  The house is full of mosquitoes.  I am sure that is a coincidence.

My computer is running slow again.  I am out of memory.  I need a new internal hard drive (or maybe external)/ I need some more RAM as well.

I know I mentioned that before but I think it is important to repeat oneself as much as one can get away with it.

Not that I did here as what I just wrote bored the shit out of me.

I am doing laundry.

That was more boring. But I am not going to worry about that.  I am just gonna keep typing because I am going to start writing every day here at this blog.

Like it or not.

I watched 24 today.  I made a giant pizza and ate the entire thing.

I told my brother I am not going to get an i-pod touch.  I have a classic and I am (one day) going to get an Android based phone so I don't really see the need for an i-pod touch or i-phone.

I hate the new i-pad. Who has money to buy something that is a niche filler and not a necessity?

Fan boys I guess.

I am going to file this post under worst written post ever.  I am sorry I wasted your time.  I just need to get in the habit of writing every day.

I need to get a PO Box so you can send me drugs through the mail. I hear that is totally safe.

After 3 weeks of coughing out phlegm I think that the bacteria have finally surrendered, or at least they have figured out a way to peacefully co-exist within my lungs.  Either way I am happy.  I am done coughing up and spitting mucus into a paper towel or giant noogies on the street.

I've alway found the practice of hocking up mucus to be disgusting- even when I am amazed by the strength and power some men demonstrate when they engage in the practice.

It seems to me that those men are not at all bothered by such a practice and it also seem that those men always have girl friends so it may be the case that I am doing it all wrong and they best way to attract women is to spit something up on the asphalt.

Let me know ladies.*

*your response can't be that yo find the habit disgusting.  you need to address the fact that all these men have gf's and I don't.  otherwise you two cents ain't worth one.

If you read my other blog (and you also read this blog) then you might want to get a real hobby like taking PCP.

Like I said if you read the other blog (who reads this one?) then you might have gotten the impression that I am calm motherfucker on PCP.

That's not exactly true.

I'm a fucking maniac.  I can't even describe what the fuck happened last time I was on it.  Let's just say I participated in a number of felonies.

Don't do PCP with your crazy crack head gf.  She will want to use the kid she pooped out as fodder for comic relief.  And two year olds are not very good at running even from people on PCP.

"Don't worry Bobby, I'm not on PCP anymore."

The kid will fucking believe you know matter how many times you lie to him.

Really, I mean two year old's are almost clinically retarded.

In a side note finding PCP and E is really difficult right now.  Damn near impossible.  If you can (and it's legal) send me some to my PO BOX.  You'd really be helping a mother fucker out.

p.s.s

I'm going to a rave this Saturday.  Hopefully I will grab a lot of crotch!  I hear chicks go to raves and don't take anything because all the E takers are all love and dovey and not aggressive jerks like most guys who drink. 

They have no idea that I get horny as shit on E and I get all crazy intense with my ASS GRABBIN' (registered trademark of the ASS GRABBIN Halloween Costume Company).

Pretty sure I'll get away with it, but we will see.

PSSS

Really bad insomnia for the last month.  Also headaches.  I wonder if my brain hurts from all the experimenting I'm doing.

Suicide Christmas Cards

There is always bad weather around Christmas time.  The wind won't stop blowing, the rain won't stop falling. Raining down on me like the bullets rained down that night at Columbine.

What a fucking night that must have been!

Dear Mom & Dad

This is just a little card to let you know that I care.

If you were wondering if Uncle Tommy's molesting had something to do with my decision to smash my head like one of those Halloween pumpkins that David Letterman tosses off  buildings in his crazy "throw stuff off tall building segments" then you were straight up correcto!

You should really think about getting on that TV show "So you think you are smarter than a 5th grader?"

Because for the first time in your lives...YOU WERE!~

Love,

Billy "your head look a little bit like a pumpkin that got pushed off a 10 story building."

p.s.
Dirty Hairy was right, " A Colt 45 does some magnificent damage."

I should use this blog for something

My Dumps:

I took a massive stinky dump at midnight.  Shit stinks, but the smell from my dump worried me.  It was the smell of cancer or sickness.  I took another dump earlier today.  Though that dump was small.  Not even perfunctory.   Just like the eraser tip from a pencil.  More annoying than anything.  The big dump was gray.  Better than the black dumps I have had for the last week or more.

Media Consumption:

I watched the Daily Show.  Two episodes.  I listened to Twilight on the Env3.  Book 1 parts 4 and 5.   I watched the final 20 minutes of Law Abiding Citizen.  I watched Full Moon the movie.  Am I turning into a 16 year old girl?  How the fuck does Twilight part 2 end with a marriage proposal.  I was like "get the fuck out of here!"  I know Bella will say yes.  I am sure of it!

Hypochondria:

My back hurts.  My liver hurts.  My liver pain may only be back pain, but you never know.  The pain in the liver comes on the lower left hand side of my back.  I think I need a new bed.  The back pain is worse because of it.  I think my testicles have something growing in them. Whatever it is, it is getting bigger. 

SEX:

I did not masturbate today. 

I found the perfect amauter porn clip

There is something appealing about getting drunk in the middle of the day. I think the idea is that if you can get drunk in the middle of the day you might also be able to get laid in the middle of the day.

I have some homemade refried bean tostadas waiting for me in the kitchen. I should take a pass on eating them and walk down to the neighborhood bar. If I don't eat I could get drunk fast and afterward walk over to local porn shop. Like most porn shops you can rent movies there, but in addition to the take home videos the local porn shop I go to has private booths where you can watch porn. The owners don't care if you jack off in those booths.

Porn shop jack-off booths are nothing like coming home to your wife in the middle of the day for a blow job. A wife never stares uncomfortably at the tiny cock hanging out of your shorts like the queers at the front of the porn store do.

The queers hang around the front of the store hoping to spot the "first timers" who by mistake find themselves in one of the first 3 booths. The First Timer has no idea that his booth is connected to other booths by windows that have had the glass broken out by hopeful faeries.

I can't explain why "straights" would pick one of the booths with the connecting windows. I guess they just like all the male companionship of jacking off together. You know. Like in the sixth grade when you used to "build" forts out of blankets. Because of the heat from of all those blankets you would strip down to your underwear and your best friend would run his hard on all over your thigh, which you made okay by just pretending that all your friend wanted to do was build forts with you because he said he wanted to be in the military like his dad.

Click here for More Free Porn Movies

This amateur porn clip has it all. The star is an old, fat, hairy, white guy with a small cock. He "comes" in under a minute.

The other star of the clip is the fat disinterested wife.

This couple looks like most of the couples that shop at my grocery store.

The best thing about the clip? EVERYTHING!

The clip starts out showing an obviously drunk and obese middle aged woman. The TV is blaring at her. She sips a drink of her 22 ounce "Full Throttle" energy drink.

The chubby naked husband strolls over to the wife. His cock in full glory at a good 2 or 3 inches. The wife looks at the cock. She can't believe this tiny thing needs to be sucked off to cum.

For the time period from 28 seconds to 45 seconds you can tell she is just phoning in the BJ. But that all changes around 45 seconds. She sucks him good for a few seconds. All it takes is 4 to be exact. After all that attention the husband only needs to jack off for a few more seconds more to come on her face.

The really loving part of the "Lunch Time Blow Job" finale is how the wife runs her face through the husbands cum by shaking her head side to side.

It's the LOVE that makes Amateur Porn great!

I am getting spammed

I am forcing people to type in those matching words for a few day until the spam bot gets the point. Hopefully we will be back to regular comment posting soon!

The New Podcast

Not that you noticed but the old Self Help Center Blogcast was deleted by my hosting site. Something about getting bought out by a paid site. Only the assholes at Podcast did not tell me anything about what was going on so I lost a years worth of shows because I don't have most of the podcast saved.

I know none of you like the podcast so none of you care but the podcast was downloaded over 2500 times so maybe a few people out there want to know where I am hosting the new version.

HERE.

What follows will be part 1 of many :

A Purposeless Driven Life.

A Purposeless Driven Life®

A Magnum Opus by Romius T.

Subtitled: A compendium of all the things I have learned.

There is no purpose to life. A fact you are well aware of.

Two days have passed since your birthday. No one acknowledged your birthday.

No one should have.

By not acknowledging your birthday your friends have given you not just you a gift, but the best gift they can give you. The gift is that of awareness. Awareness of the emptiness of life.

You feel alone. Good. You are alone. There is no god.[1] Even if there is a god, he does not care about you. No serious person could believe in a personal god. But many serious people claim to believe in a non-personal god. I think you call that belief Deism. [2]

In this essay I had hoped to get around talking about the existence of god, but since I brought it up and since so many of you will have some kind of belief in god I guess I might as well tackle the belief head on.

Deism

Deism is not an acceptable answer to the purposeless driven life. That’s because deism allows many of its practitioners to see purpose in the world. The more pernicious deists see agency in nothing more than random patterns. Usually deists see the agency “behind” the phenomenal world.

Many deists see “design” in the universe and believe that means there is a god. [3] But not all deists make such easy to refute claims. Einstein:

"[If you]try and penetrate with our limited means the secrets of nature and you will find that, behind all the discernible laws and connections, there remains something subtle, intangible and inexplicable. Veneration for this force beyond anything that we can comprehend is my religion. To that extent I am, in fact, religious." [My emphasis]

Einstein was a great man. He was also a very smart man. He was much smarter than me. But is what Einstein talking about god? "Yes, you can call it that.”

Actually. No. You can’t. That’s not god.

The awe that humans feel when confronted with the “inexplicable” is understandable and it is what drives every great scientist and philosopher to truth. The desire to make sense of the world is natural. Every child is born with it. Curiosity may not be limited to humans, but it certainly is one of our finer characteristics. But it is a giant leap to go from confusion to god.

Veneration.

The problem with the Veneration of Mystery.

I don’t worship anything I don’t understand. I don’t know why anyone would. That's why I am more of a Troy Aikman kinda guy and less of a Tony Romo kinda guy.[4] Even still. That seems like a personal choice of mine and not a logical argument.[5]

Let me break down the “logical” argument for you in to several parts.

First.

Deists act like Atheists.

Einstein said that he “venerated” the “force behind” the seeming logical consistency of the world. But did he? Did he go to church? Did he light candles? Did he worship? Did he pray? How did he devote himself to the force?

The answer is he did not. That is why Spinoza was excommunicated.[6] And rightfully so. Deists never get around to really doing anything religious. They love a good mystery. They make terrific writers of constitutions, but they really have no place for gods as most people understand them. Because Deists don’t act like religious people they often get confused for Atheists. [7]

Second.

The world may not be so darn comprehensible.[8] Einstein was not a fan of Quantum Mechanics. He once famously said that “god does not play dice with the universe.” He was wrong. God does play dice. Even if god does not play dice I just wanted you to know that I knew that quote by Einstein. Also, I knew that the second I started the sentence “Einstein once famously said…” you expected me to use that quote. So I did.

I guess my point is that if Einstein would have just paid more attention to Quantum Mechanics he might have been an Atheist and saved us all a lot of trouble. [9] But he didn’t. And that is another good reason to dislike religious thinkers. (But that is still not a good enough reason to not believe!)

---

[1] I know there is no need to instruct you on the silliness of a personal god. All I have to do is point out that Zeus is not real. Nobody prays to Zeus anymore. Speaking of praying. I have no idea why people pray, or light candles. Really! When the fuck did lighting a candle ever do anything? If you think that lighting a candle can do something other than increase your contribution to the alarming growth of green house gasses into the Earth’s atmosphere then you are fooling yourself. What you really believe in is magic. And that is sad. There is no such thing as magic. I know that saying that “there is no such thing as magic” seems like a big claim, and maybe it is. You might even want me to prove. Well I am not gonna. And I think you are an asshole for suggesting to me that I should. By the way, if you believe in magic you can’t claim to be a deist. If you are not a Deist then you are in the same category as the monotheists and the crazy right wing creationists. That category is the crazy folk.

[2] At least the dictionary says it is.

[3] Do I really need to suggest to you that you go and read Kant? If you don’t want to do the research for yourself then you HAVE to take my word for it. The ontological argument is an argument only an idiot could like.

[4] I still think Tony Romo is going to win me and the Dallas Cowboys at least 2 Super Bowls.

[5] If you like big words you might have used aesthetics.

[6] I suppose you don’t know who he is either. Einstein based some of his understanding of the god force on the pantheism of Spinoza, "I believe in Spinoza's God, who reveals himself in the lawful harmony of all that exists, but not in a God who concerns himself with the fate and the doings of mankind."

[7] There is a huge fight between Atheists and theists over Einstein. It seems everybody wants a piece of him.

[8] We could play a bunch of logic games here. If the world is ultimately incomprehensible (i.e. the thing in itself that is the force behind the apparent lawfulness of the universe) how could the world be comprehensible at all? We probably need to read more Kant.

[9] Interesting side note, Einstein’s religious thinking may have clouded his scientific mind to the point that he overlooked Quantum Mechanics and thus avoided reconciling the new science with his theory of relativity ultimately dooming his quest for a theory of everything. The ultimate theory of everything would prove god does not exist which would make this whole introduction parenthetical.

I believe in one less god than you

YES WE CAN!

Simply the Funniest thing I have seen in a long time

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