Spaulding Bogosian

Screw Lou (A Memoir)

2010-01-22T14:09:00.006-05:00

Everyone who's ever had a real brush with fame raise their hands. Alright, you can put your hands down now. I'm gonna spin a yarn (so sit back). This isn't as much about a brush with fame as much as its about carrying on a dysfunctional relationship with someone who isn't even aware of your existence.
Celebrity is an interesting phenomena. It affords the person the ability to have an impact, negative or positive, on peoples lives without ever acknowledging their existence.
Here's my story:
It must have been 1988 or '89 and I was living in New York. Although New York City is a hotbed of celebrity inhabitants, it's not like L.A. where you can't swing a dead cat without hitting “Bud” from married with children. No, you could live in New York your whole life and unless you like to lunch at the restaurants around Rockerfeller Center or run in Central Park you may never bump into a celebrity. There's just too many damn people, and New Yorkers tend to be more low key fashion-wise so everyone kinda looks the same. Unless your Howard Stern and you look like Big Bird on Sesame Street, you could be a major talent and walk around unaccosted for the most part. I have run into to the marginal talent, and even the major one but I am rarely star struck, and for the most part I don't make it a habit to intrude. That said, I am dining in a restaurant on the upper west side one Saturday evening, I believe it was an asian place, and excuse myself to use the bathroom. On my way as I meandered through the tables my eyes lock on an icon of rock and roll. There before me at about 10 o' clock sits none other than Lou Reed. Well, normally in these situations my mind says hey that's pretty cool, and I go on with my life fairly unaffected. But this was Lou “Fucking” Reed! A musical pioneer and genuine rock and roll royalty. So I uncharacteristically made my way in his direction. He must have noticed me out of his peripheral vision before I even got to the table and braced himself for the encounter.
“Mr. Reed, I'm sorry to interrupt your dinner but I just wanted to say that I'm a big fan.”
He already had an expression of exasperation on his face and my eyes averted briefly to the fetching female that was sitting with him. I saw her do the shade the eyes thing with her hand to her forehead and elbow on the table and she seemed to be bracing herself for something as well. When I turned back to Lou he was rising from his chair and now almost nose to nose with me he spoke, loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear.
“Did it dawn on you that I'm having a conversation here. Can't a person go to a fucking restaurant and have dinner without being bothered by every stupid fuck that feels they has the right to insinuate themselves into my life. I mean for christ fucking sake go away!”
Holy Shit, did Lou Reed actually take time out to chastise me in front of an entire restaurant? I was in shock. I mean yeah I was embarrassed, but also, it was kinda cool in a way that he got so personal with me.
Although, now I was kinda pissed at him too. I mean what a colossal prick! I didn't touch him or try to shake his hand. It was adulation in the briefest, most benign form. He could have waved me off but he actually took time out to embarrass me.
“Sorry Lou.” I coward, muttering curses under my breath as I continued on to the bathroom. I stood in the bathroom getting quite angry and actually had to calm myself down with splashes of water to the face. I thought about going out there and chastising him in front of the restaurant for being such an ass. Why did he seek out celebrity anyway? Eventually I peed, came to my senses and made my way back to my table, getting odds looks from more than a couple of fellow diners. Finally sitting down with my date, who was laughing so hard at me I think she made Lo Mein come out of her nose.
I carried that night around with me for a long time. Retelling the story every-time Lou Reed came up in conversation. I even stopped listening to his music for a while without consciously making the decision.
For more than fifteen years I feuded with Lou Reed.
Only he didn't know it.
Lets skip ahead to winter 2005. I now have a family, three beautiful young boys and we have just finished a wonderful vacation in Turks and Caicos. We are standing in line at the quaint little airport waiting to check in, and my boys notice a tiny little dog. I'm a big dog kinda guy so I can't quite place the breed, some kind of Cockapoodle or schnitzerdoodle or something. Not my type but cute. I follow the leash up to a hand, at the counter talking with the agent I see an older gentleman look down at my boys with a kind of grumpy face. It takes a moment because he's aged quite a bit since our last encounter but I see it. It's LOU! Uh oh, I think. He's gonna rip my 3 year old a new asshole for touching his dog.
I tried to step in and head it off, “Theo, leave the dog alone, I'm sorry sir.” Intentionally not acknowledging his celebrity.
“That's alright, he won't bite”, Came a familiar grumbly reply.
“Thanks.” I said and hung back.
Holy Shit. Lou Reed was being nice to my kids. I don't know if he's mellowed with old age or maybe I caught him on a bad day 15 years ago, or maybe he just wanted to make an example of me in front of everyone to avoid further interruptions. Either way Lou Reed redeemed himself. The feud had ended. I could throw away the hostility I'd felt all these years and listen to “Satellite of Love” again without thinking what a fuck he is. I could hear “Dirty Boulevard” without wanting to tie his ass to the back of a pick-up and drag him down it. I for one felt better. Like me and Lou had mended fences and we could be friends again. Though I still wouldn't give him the satisfaction of recognition.
It's funny to wonder what Lou might think of this feud that raged for 15 years if he'd known about it. And I would still probably be in a Caribbean prison if he'd had the nerve to yell at my kid.
All this sort of occurred to me this past summer, as I geared up to watch him perform at Lollapalooza in Chicago. I was sitting there thinking how out of place was this guy. Most of the kids there never even heard his name before. And I thought, he's got to do his hits for these kids. He's got to open with “Walk on the Wild Side” so they know who he is. Now one thing about these multi stage festivals is that they are timed down to the minute. The reason for this is, number one so you can schedule your day and constantly be seeing music. And another reason is because there are 3 bands on after you and frankly it's rude to everyone. So, in typical Lou Reed fashion he went on stage 25 minutes late. What a self centered fuck. When he finally went on he opened with “Sweet Jane”. I said that's cool, and although I'm a fan, it was way too mellow for a festival crowd. After something very obscure and “Dirty Blvd.” and taking time out to scream obscenities at his sound guys (which almost made me flinch due to bad memories), he launched into some masturbatory long feedback infused piece of crap that I left halfway through. Vampire Weekend was on another stage and I couldn't wait to catch the end of their set even if it meant walking half a mile. It was cathartic watching him crash and burn in the eyes of the Rock and Roll youth. At last we were all able see this dinosaur for who he was, although talented, a narcissistic ass with no joy in his performance. He really could care less about putting on a good show. And I was no longer bitter. I was apathetic, yet I felt a sense of closure. It was no longer just me, now there was thirty thousand more people saying “Fuck You Lou Reed”. Thanks Lou, for all you were, I'm sorry things didn't work out for us.

Best Shatner line since "Beam Me Up Scotty"

2008-01-23T23:17:00.000-05:00

Heard on the January 22nd episode of "Boston Legal";

"Look at how far women have come... They used to be objects we wanted to have sex with. Now, they're intelligent, autonomous, powerful things... we just want to have sex with.
-Denny Crane

Dirty Sanchez

2007-12-18T13:50:00.000-05:00

Many of you have heard various terms that elude to heinous and humorous sex acts. For you benefit I thought I put them all in one place so that you have a quick reference guide.

Dirty Sanchez

A Dirty Sanchez is a sexual situation where a man is laying some pipe doggy-style, and while in the midst of sex he inserts his finger in the woman's starfish and then smears his finger across her upper lip, giving her a thin shit moustache. This is the Dirty Sanchez.

That bitch was so skanky, she didn't even mind that I gave her a dirty Sanchez!

Cleveland Steamer

A Cleveland Steamer is one of two acts that are similar for the scatalogically inclined. One is a crude sex act the other a crude break up technique. Both are the same thing.

1. You take a dump on a lovers chest while or before titty fucking (if that partner is a female.) Generally for the cacaphile only or as a domination and humiliation tool in BDSM games. See also Brown Showers. The steamer part is that it is very probably steaming from the freshness (Moisture rising from it) not to do with "steamrolling" it. Then it would have been called a "Cleveland Steamroller". It is probably named after Cleveland (Lucky us Clevelanders) because of the brown stripe left behind resembling the brown stripe on the orange Cleveland Browns Football Helmet. If you squish it down and then you spooge on it for syrup it becomes a "Boston Pancake". Don't know the origin of Boston in refernce to that act.

2. Often used as a breakup technique for angry lovers to wait till the other is asleep and dumping on their chest and leaving them to wake in it the morning after. Point made. Sexual intercourse isn't necessary beforehand technically. It is only for extra points with your pals since you obviously are only pretending to be making up and having sex to achieve this goal and are tricking the other person to get even. Usually done without knowledge of the victim if the "pooper" wants to escape alive.

Tom wanted to break up with Sally after their last fight and he made his point to her by dropping her a Cleveland Steamer and leaving the bedroom.

Boston Pancake

When you shit on a girl's (or guy's I guess) chest. This the supposed pancake. And everyone likes their pancakes with syrup, so you jizz on the shit. The jizz is key, without it, you are performing a Cleveland Steamer. I'm not sure where the change from Cleveland to Boston takes place, but it's somewhere between the cum leaving the penis and landing on the shit.

My bitch forgot to clean up the Boston Pancake I made last night, but at least I didn't have to make my own breakfast.

Alabama Hot Pocket

The Alabama Hot Pocket is a special fetish maneuver that roughly involves taking a shit into a woman's vagina, typically followed up by a good ole fuckin'. The term "Alabama" originated from a lesser known, but crucial additional practice that involves "Porky Piggin'" the female who has recieved the Hot Pocket. In Alabama, you see, good old redneck boys, when bored, would fuck pig troughs or large, wet piles of mud. To properly perform the Porky Piggin' follow-up procedure, one must take a massive shit onto the vagina WITHOUT spreading the lips. This creates a core that enters the woman, and then dregs that explode out all over her. By randomly stabbing with the cock, one will successfully Porky Piggin' the girl... repeating, naturally, the action that would normally be associated with screwing a pile of mud or animal trough.

Yeah boy, I gave her a good ole Alabama Hot Pocket. What? No shit I Porky Piggin'd that shit.

Rusty Trombone

The act of performing anal cunnilingus while reaching up above the testicles to manually administer quick up and down motions to the penile shaft; resulting in a violent yet pleasant explosion. It is then customary for the female to then give a quick blow into the anus for good luck, the lips blowing into the anus sounds very similar to a trombones sweet melody. This was introduced to the Americas in the late 50's.

While receiving a rusty trombone I lost control of my bowels.

Hot Carl

Proceeding to the act of hot-karling involves one of the following:

1. Any part of sex in which faeces from one partner is found on the other, regardless of the technique. NOTE: the action of defecating on one's self may not be regarded as a "hot karl" but rather as "soiling yourself".

2. A form of assault in which the assailant proceeds to fill a tube sock with his own feces, ready to engage in fierce guerrilla.

1. While you were sleeping, I snuck into your sister's room and hot-karled her.

2. Brandon is such a moron, let's hot-karl him after school today.

Angry Dragon

Immediately after you blow your load in a girl's mouth, smack the back of her head and make it come out her nose. When she gets up she'll look like an angry dragon.

I gave your mom an angry dragon last night!

Angry Pirate

The act of receiving oral sex while standing up right, ending with the reciever not only shooting his sperm rocket into one of the giver's eyes, but also kicking the giver in one of his/her shins, thereby hindering the giver with a "peg leg" and a defunct eye.

dude,i gave your sister an angry pirate, and thats why she's limping a little...(don't ask why she's walking like she has a stick up her ass... thats a whole different story dude.)

Donkey Punch

The Donkey Punch is when your engaged in anal sex and when your about to ejaculate you punch the poor little lady in the back of the head so her anal cavity tightens making the orgasm all that more better (for you of course).

I donkey punched Meredith last night, and It was awesome

Tony Danza

When you are giving it to a chick from behind, you yell out "Who's the boss?" She'll get confused, turn her head around, at this moment, you donkey punch her in the face and then scream TONY DANZA!!!

Oh man, I totally powned Kenny's mom last week when I gave her a Tony Danza.

Blumpkin

The delicately balanced art of getting your cock sucked while taking a dump.

Morty made frequent trips to the office restroom, but never when the janitor who calls Costa Rica is there, because that janitor like to give Blumpkins.

Cunnilumpkin

A variation of the blumpkin where a woman receives cunnilingus while she is defocating. This can be intentional or accidental.

Note: For bonus points and so both parties walk away a winner, the cunnilingor can position their own body during a cunnilumpkin to get Hot-Karl on the pecs.

Intentional: Busy Linda preferred the cunnilumpkin to regular oral sex since it accomplished two things at once....just as long as they did it at the bus station so she could just leave her shit smeared all over the seat cushions.

Accidental: Ed was really doing a good job down there and Eva was starting to peak at her orgasm. Ed had all he could do to keep her from squirming off the bed so he squeezed her hips tighter, and that's when it happened. The uninvited cunnilumpkin had ruined the sheets and both of their evening plans.

Strawberry Shortcake

The action in which the male ejaculates on his partner's face, and then the male punches his partner's nose, which causes blood to stream forth. The semen and blood fluids create a red and white image, just like the icing and filling of a strawberry shortcake.

I just gave my girlfriend a strawberry shortcake.

Pink Sock

This is the result of excessive anal plundering; the intestines actually exit through the anus, forming a dangling mass, resembling a pink sock.

When I left prison, I had a pink sock the size of Texas.

Birmingham Booty Call

Put your woman's cell phone on vibrate, stick it up her ass, and as you are having sex, call her phone, have her shit it out, answer it, and talk dirty to you as you cum on her face.

I met this freak bitch in Alabama, and she introduced me to the Birmingham booty call.

Rusty Trumpet

1. the female version of the rusty trombone
2. to eat the ass of a woman while reaching around and fiddling with her special place (especially with several fingers, simulating a trumpet)

I gave your mother a rusty trumpet.
She loved it.

Newnan Burrito

Wrap your cock in a tortilla and fill the tortilla with whatever a normal burrito would have (sour cream, cheese, maybe hot sauce) and then start having anal sex. Before you cum, you stick the newnan burrito in the woman's mouth, giving the taste of cock and burrito.

Mary kept asking me for mexican food last night, so i gave her a newnan burrito.

Hot Lips Houlahan

Before you have sex with a woman, put tabasco sauce on the OUTSIDE of the condom, her pussy lips will be on fire in no time. If you want to cool the burn, pull out and hose it down. (this may also work for BJs.)

My woman is always bragging that she enjoys spicy foods, but she couldn't handle the Hot Lips Houlahan.

Abe Lincoln

When an unconscious person gets jizzed on their face, gets their pubes cut and applied to their face to form a beard, then adorned with a top hat.

The last time a gang of transsexuals Abe Lincolned Stump, he was picking various shades of pubes from his teeth for a week!

Cincinnati Bowtie

When you reverse titty-fuck a girl. So your balls and cock are upside-down and it looks like she is wearing a fleshy bow-tie. It's called "Cincinnati" because they do everything backwards there.

My bitch was complaining all night because I kept ramming my anus into her nose, but dang, I was really in the mood for a Cincinnati bowtie

Alligator Fuckhouse

A daring sexual maneuver: Mid-coitus, one person bites the neck of the other, locks their arms and legs down and goes into a deathroll, all while maintaining insertion. Like downshifting a car!

Sally: "Last night Johnny surprised me with an Alligator Fuckhouse, and I came for an hour and a half! I think the bite might have left a scar though..."

Dirty Gas Pump

starting off with simple tea-bagging, making sure that her nose is between your ass cheeks, and as she is jacking you off, you fart as much as possible.

I know she wants a dirty gas pump when she insists on paying at the local Mexican restaurant.

Ride the Bull

To have doggy sex with a woman and have people in your closet with cameras jump out. Your partner will then attempt to get away. The point of riding the bull is to see how long you can keep your dick in her. But beware, she may make an awkward turn and could bend your dick.

I will ride the bull tonight in an attempt to smash my record of 30 seconds.

Tea Bag

(v). To lower your body as to dip the testicles into her mouth as the woman is tonguing the scrotum.

Hey man, you should have seen the look on that bitches face when I tea bagged her.

Glass Bottom Boat

A sexual act in which the customer lays under a glass coffee table and looks up through it, while their partner defecates on the top. How some people find this stimulating I'll never know.

Also can refer to the same positioning with a coffee table but the person on top merely presses their genitals onto the glass, for "squashed" visual effect - or can refer to defecating onto some one's face which has been first covered in plastic kitchen wrap like Saran Wrap.

Your grandfather got arrested in Thailand again after paying an underage transvestite hooker for some ]glass bottom boat] action.

Jonah and the Whale

When a male inserts his erect penis into the mouth of another and then cums in the asshole of the same person. Then that person farts the semen out of the asshole so it looks like a blowhole.

Jane an Bob went home after a couple of drinks and performed, Jonah and the Whale.

Dump Truck

tucking the cock and balls between the legs and proceeding to ejaculate in the female's mouth while backing up and dropping a steamy load on her chest making crazy beeping noises like a dump truck

"Beep Beep Beep," said Little Eugene as he dropped a killer deuce all over Molly and her twin sister. "Now THAT's what I call a dump truck!"

New Delhi Dot

After anal sex, poke your partner right between the eyes with your fecal covered cock. If you do it correctly, it should leave a "shit dot" similar to that worn by Hindus.

I gave Pradip a New Delhi Dot to cover the red one.

Rotten Oyster

When a man is having sex with a woman that has a foul smelling/tasting vagina, and right before you cum you pull out, stick your dick in her mouth so she can taste her nasty vagina and cum in her mouth.

I was giving a woman oral sex and decided she needed a rotten oyster, so that she could taste what I tasted.

Golden Shower

The act of urinating on another person, usually for sexual gratification, or as a way of humiliation. More common than a Golden bath, where, during anal sex, one partner urinates into the colon of the other.

Do you need me to give you a golden bath?

Hot Lunch

the act of shitting in clingfilm stretched over someones open mouth then fucking the mouth and at the point of ejaculation bursting through the clingfilm giving the recipient a mouthful of shit and spunk

got any food wrap dear ?i fancy giving a hot lunch

Space Docking

The act of defecating directly into one's vagina. Like a space ship attempting to dock to a space station, "space docking" involves very accurate control and near-perfect alignment of the two orifices.

"Hey baby, want to try space docking tonight?"

Houdini

As a man reaches climax whilst in the "doggie style" position, the man pulls out and spits on their partner's back, fooling them into thinking that he has ejaculated, however, when their partner turns around, the man lets loose his baby yogurt in his partner's face.

I took my weenie and pulled a Houdini in her eye, then she cried.

Why Canada Sucks

2007-12-18T10:52:00.000-05:00

I'm an American. One thing you can say about Americans is; They are never prouder to be Americans than they are when they're in another country. I lived in Europe, Italy specifically, for a year when I was in college. It was difficult getting used to the things you took for granted not being around. Driers for example. I don't know how to use a clothesline, and frankly, I don't want to know. Showers is another. Why is it so difficult to get hot and cold water to come out of the same faucet creating what we like to call in America, warm? Even when visiting England I discovered those ingenious Brits had invented a rubber nozzle that you attached to the hot and cold faucets. I had to knock on the next apartment over to see if Ralph and Alice were still living there. And even if you had the hot and cold coming out of the same faucet, you have a tank roughly the size of a propane tank to take your bath. No wonder most Europeans only bath 2 or 3 times a week. Its just not satisfying. And while we are on the subject of bathrooms, what's with the tile room with a hole in the floor. I imagined it was supposed to be some type of toilet, but no seat, no paper and no water. Just a stinky hole. Very frightening. When I went to Europe to live it was an adventure. As a single male abroad, I wasn't as concerned with the creature comforts. Now I am in my forties, married, with kids. I'm concerned.
When George Bush was elected president for the second term, most intelligent people threw up they're hands in disgust. I was one of them. He had conned the American public, or at least 51% of them, into thinking that they started something with this guy and they needed to let him see it through. Others predicted that he would go down in history as the worst U.S. president ever, and I agreed. Some alarmist folk threatened to move to Canada if he was elected. So many in fact that I'm sure that some must have, just for that reason. The romantic notion appealed to my adventurous side. I'd been to Vancouver, Montreal, Quebec City, New Foundland and Toronto and as a visitor I saw very little outward difference from the states. I even thought the speaking of french made it more exotic. But in reality I would never have gone through with it. But life has surprises.
My wife had been interviewing for a new job through the summer of 2005 and had received several offers. One of which was in Toronto. It stood out among the others for salary and position. Being the type of people we were, we were not intimidated by the thought of moving. Actually, the idea of a short stint in another county was exciting and we were even able to get the children excited. They are young and were younger then so getting them excited was as easy as acting excited.
So now here we are living in Toronto. I'll start with what is good. It's a clean city and tries hard to be even cleaner than it is. It's a pretty city, especially when viewed from the island just off the waterfront. It has lots of stuff to do and the Zoo is world class. O.K. we're done. America is the greatest country on the planet for many reasons. The one that they list ad nauseum is the “American Dream” scenario, where you come from Bangladesh and end up a millionaire with a string of cabs. But I believe that the reason that America is great is the retailer's oath, five words, “The customer is always right.” Now some people in the U.S. may claim that they have had bad experiences with customer service, but that's not the same thing. Any one can be an idiot, but that's on the individual. The U.S. is designed to be user friendly. This may seem like a fantastical notion but the truth is when a customer walks into a store or a restaurant and they as for something, even if it's not standard, they get it. This makes the customer happy and in-turn, his reviews to those people who enquire about an establishment are friendly and positive.
I don't know about the rest of Canada but Toronto sucks to live in. And the reason it's not a great place to live is that it's not user friendly. Traffic is awful. Which is true of a lot of U.S. cities. But traffic in Toronto is awful because it seems like nobody cares about the drivers. The words common sense don't spring to mind while I wait at the HUNDREDS of non working left turn arrows through out this city. Forcing at least five cars at a time to run a red light so they can make the turn. The arbitrary “between the hours of 4 p.m. and 6 p.m.”, you can't go right left or straight. I see this making sense concerning a school for obvious reasons, but to many of these signs are just meaningless. I live in a residential neighborhood and they just decided one day to put up no parking signs. Now if I need to leave my car on the street for even an hour I get a ticket. While, on Lawrence Avenue for example, a major through street, you can park DURING RUSH HOUR. Now I may be totally out of line here, but not allowing parking until rush hour, and then when the streets are at their most crowded force the traffic down to one lane seems utterly backward. And that's just getting from point A to point B. And as far as the moronic robots that work for the parking authority who remember the pictures in the paper after a storm of the dunces ticketing a car with a tree on top of it.
What is with the service people in this town? It really seems like their on some kind of power kick and enjoy being rude and senselessly unaccommodating. I can only sight examples of rudeness so irrational that it's a brand you would never witness in the States, because it appears to be policy. My 4 year old child was told after waiting 45 minutes in line at Canada's Wonderland Amusement Park, that if he didn't settle down he would be asked to leave the line. He made the mistake of putting his hands on the gate that separates the lines. I used to live in Chicago and really enjoyed the trip to Second City Comedy Club once in a while. So when I got tickets in Toronto I was excited. But no exaggeration I have never seen a bigger bunch of power trippy a-holes than the wait-staff down at Second City Toronto. I was actually told by one after I went through two sets of double doors and walked into the lobby to take a phone call from my son (the phone was on vibrate), that she wanted to confiscate my phone. When I refused, she informed me that she'd be keeping an eye on me. I mean what a set on these people. And I won't bore you with the other waitress who obviously overdosed my cocktail with Triple sec because I wanted to eliminate some of the 10 chairs they had surrounding the table the size of a phonograph record. The place was half full and as usual it would have meant nothing at all for them to accommodate the whims of 4 of us but they just wouldn't. It became a pissing match between the wait-staff and us. What a senseless display of unprofessional ism. I don't understand the logic in it and I never will.
Another time I was privileged to be able to frequent Druxy's Famous Deli in the entertainment district. I'm originally from New York (real N.Y. not Buffalo, NY) so I know a bit about Deli. They have pretty good Deli here in Toronto, good Corned Beef. All around good quality meat at most places. But again they ruin it by not catering to the customer. Druxy's offers several sandwiches that pile numerous ingredients on top. So they offer several combination sandwiches. But ask for a simple combination of two meats and it cannot be done. I was given the option of ordering a deli platter with like 3 pounds of meat on it and they'll bring you bread on the side, so that you can make your own sandwich. But ask for Corned beef and Pastrami on a roll and they smile at you while they tell how how sorry they are that you can't be accommodated. I don't think they are sorry at all. In any of these places. St. Louis Ribs won't split a double order into 2 kinds of sauce for your wings. They essentially want to charge you an extra $3 for an extra piece of tinfoil so that they can call it two orders. Most places won't even think about an egg white omelet. The service people are so quick to say no to you that there is no denying they like the power. Why? On the surface these offenses may seem minor. But when you in a city that is very expensive to live in, and obviously prides itself on being a world class city, why would you consistently treat your meal tickets this way.
This is why America is a great country. Not the ability to create a fabulous life with nothing but hard work. That's good too. But the ability to get what you want, how you want it, whenever you want it. This is why even with a moron like George W. Bush at the helm, the U.S.A. is still 100 times the country Canada is. This is why CANADA SUCKS! Because they have the things you want, but whether its poor management, poor staffing, or a monkey for a city planner, they manage to screw it up before it gets to you. How do you have a city with 17 Chinatowns and still have crappy Chinese food? That's like having a beautiful island surrounded by beaches that no one can swim in because the water is too polluted. Oh yeah, that's Toronto Island. It makes no sense.
A Blogger by the name of Bob O Wrinkly wrote this also which is kind of funny and I couldn't agree more:

You know what sucks? I'll tell you what sucks: Canada.
I'm mad as hell about Canada and I don't have to take it. Guess who liked Canada: Hitler. And I may not have any evidence to back this up, but trust me. It's true.

Canadian flag

Why do I hate Canada so much? I'll tell you. I have seven reasons that will make whiny liberals quiver in their faux-fur lined boots.

Canada is cold.
Real cold. Too cold for anyone sensible.

But Canadians should prepare for warmer temperatures, since those Godless socialist pinko cowards will suffer an eternity in Hell.

The metric system.
Those Canadians practically invented this "metric" system bullshit. Somehow it's like inches and feet, only it doesn't make any damn sense. And kilometers? Don't even get me started on those.

Next thing you know they'll have metric months, metric dollar bills, and women will have metric breasts. Where will the madness end?

Canada gained independence from England in 1982.
1982! Can you believe that? Practically yesterday. We told those British popinjays to take a hike over 200 years before those lazy Canucks got around to it.

And guess who still has the queen on their currency? I'll give you a hint: Canada.

Rich people must pay for health care for lazy bums.
Imagine being coerced into paying for health care for undserving lazy scaramouches who sit on the street corner day after day, chugging down a 40oz Mickeys before noon.

Those cretins don't deserve a nickel, let alone expensive medical treatment paid for by wealthy, upstanding members of society.

Fact: If you're poor, it's entirely your damn fault -- and you deserve a short miserable life of pain and suffering.

They have oil.
Come on, Canada. Give us your damn oil. Who do you think makes your cars, anyway? Manitoba isn't exactly Detroit, if you know what I mean.

Don't make us go Iraq on your ass. We'll do it.

I'm serious.
(Spaulding's comment: Gas in Canada still averages a dollar more than the U.S.)

They speak French.
Okay, I know what you're going to say. "But O Wrinkly, only Canadians in Quebec speak French!"

Well be that as it may, Canadians still write in French all over the damn place. Street signs, documents, businesses...

If I ever saw a coffee shop with a sign that said "ferme" in the window instead of "closed," I'd blow that place up before those Satan-worshiping French terrorists spread their hate any further.

Draft dodgers.
And this is the big one. Where do you think those America-hating draft dodgers run off to when the going gets tough?

You're damn right they go to that God-forsaken hellhole known as Canada. Look, we're making the world safe for you hippie clinchpoops, so show some damn respect.

There you have it folks -- seven indesputible reasons Canada sucks. Of course, everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion. But if it's different than mine, it's wrong.

Because I said so.

Spaulding says:

I like to add to the reasons Canada Sucks list.

1. Celine Deion- What is the national obsession with this poor man's Barbara Streisand?

2. Canadian Football- The WNBA is a more respectable sports organization. Not even the Canadians care.

3. Military Time - Whats the reason for it. Are we going on a mission?

4. How can a country that is always claiming how violent the U.S. is, have Hockey as a national sport. I mean what exactly is the rule about fighting anyway. Is it allowed? Is it a penalty?

5. The proof is in the pudding. People are moving away in droves. they actually have an open door policy to all immigrants because they need them to boost tax revenue.

6. PST and GST together account for 15% sales tax on everything you buy. Taxes suck here. Yes you can get a cuban cigar, but with the taxes it costs $35 a piece.

and lastly as my friend Bob already stated;
ITS TOO DAMN COLD!

Wolfmother

2007-03-07T11:30:00.000-05:00

Well, I went to see Wolfmother at the Kool Haus in Toronto last night. I have to say that they put on a good show. They opened up with “Dimension”, also the first track of their self-titled album, and it was loud and heavy and everything you like about the band, assuming you like the band. The set continued with more songs off of their debut album, over the top feedback, throwing around of instruments and microphone stands and the general posturing of a band with deep ties to “The Who”, “Jimi Hendrix”, “Led Zeppelin” and “Nirvana”. Let me say though, when I mention these other bands in the same breath as Wolfmother, I am speaking of the on stage antics and not to the quality. I personally have always liked the purity of a three member band, Rush, The Police, Nirvana, to name several. Wolfmother while they have that pure energy, is probably most respected and followed by default. Their music is reminiscent of some of the power rock that we just haven’t seen enough of in the last two decades. In the words of Eddie Murphy, if your starving and someone throws you a cracker, your gonna be like, “Wow that’s a good cracker.” And that’s what Wolfmother is, a good cracker. They have the raw energy and plenty of attitude, but the music just isn’t there. I think people are thirsting for that old school rock and roll energy and want to believe that Wolfmother is more substantial band than the music proves out. Last night during the encore set, Andrew Stockdale, the lead singer swaggers up to the mike and declares, “Some people say that Wolfmother is derivative, we are not fucking derivative.” Now, if you weren’t trying to sound like a mash-up of Led Zeppelin and Styx, and you weren’t playing your guitar behind your neck and with your teeth ala Jimi Hendrix, or using the mike stand as a bow ala Jimmy Page. And let’s just say you didn’t have The Who in mind when you trashed your instruments. Lets face it, the best thing about this band is that they are derivative. Of all the bands that they are not trying to copy, their best song wouldn’t come close to the worst of those legendary bands. But the crowd doesn’t seem to know the difference. During the encore they did a very respectable cover of Led Zeppelin’s Communication Breakdown, and the crowd kinda stopped and stared. Most of them didn’t know the song. It’s very sad when mediocrity shines brighter than genius. It reminded me of an Umphrey’s Mcgee show where the crowd seemed to know every word to their songs, and then they did two Beatles cover tunes, and the crowd was silent, like, what is this shit. I mean it’s the fucking Beatles, come on kids have a little taste and knowledge. There are a few bands that are renewing a rock and roll sound, The Kings of Leon for one that have put out two respectable rock CD’s, and The Darkness, who put out Permission to Land back in 2003, and had a very similar buzz about them as Wolfmother. And in my opinion the music was superior, but alas they have had no success as of late and are threatening to fade into obscurity.
Wolfmother needs to get out of there own way. If they really want to be a great band they need to concentrate on their writing. You take White Unicorn for example, that is one of the most derivative songs I’ve ever heard. Is it Styx? Is it King Crimson? The answer is it’s neither, because it’s not good enough to be Styx or King Crimson. Stop worrying that people are comparing you to great bands. It’s a wonderful place to start. You think Bruce Springsteen was offended when they compared his songwriting to Bob Dylan?
They played what appeared to be a new song for the crowd (might be called “Something”) and I for one, thought is was pretty good. If the new album has songs of that quality and better they might be around for a while. Bottom line is I enjoyed their performance, they have a lot of heart and energy. Now all they need is good songwriting.

Britney Spears is just a symptom...Like pus.

2007-02-16T12:04:00.001-05:00

I was told that if I put the words Britney Spears in the content of a blog, that it would get a lot of hits. So I’m trying it out. Recently I read an article in a Canadian newspaper about a girl in Toronto (I’m sure not the only one) who idolizes Britney Spears. Now, on the surface it seems like a normal piece, but not really. The author was attempting to do just what I am. Use the name Britney Spears to get exposure. What’s more, as unbiased as the article was in expressing the reasons for the girl’s ardor, it implied that anyone who would devote their time to such a trivial individual, is a freak. I mean, why else write the article unless you want to expose something. And it worked! I skipped over all the articles about how many people were killed yesterday in the latest roadside bombing, so that I could shake my head at this misguided twenty-two year old girl, and feel utterly superior. Knowing I personally stopped thinking Roger Waters and Frank Zappa knew the meaning of life when I was twelve. Yeah, I used to put on my headphones and listen to “Shine on you Crazy Diamond” and think, this guy knows my life, he knows all our lives. If I could just talk to him for an hour, I would understand the meaning of life. But we’re getting off track because worshiping Pink Floyd or Jim Morrison as an adolescent at least showed you had a little musical taste.
But Britney Spears? She is a marginal talent who got most of her exposure being hot, jailbait, and dressing like a parochial school girl. Granted she was hot, but that was eight really long years ago. She has an OK voice, but what has she really done. Four bad albums in eight years? “Baby one more time” was written by Max Martin, she’s not even a writer. If you go to her website she hasn’t updated her blog since 2005. Her last pearl of wisdom to the fans was “People Magazine is great in my book!” I’m sure her book must be “The idiot’s guide to... Whatever.”
I’m starting to sound a little bitchy and I’m not even gay. Enough about Britney! My heart and testis go out to any young lady that is mired in Britneydumb. It is a fitting capper that she is now at the height of her fame for showing her gaping twat.
The record companies are all up in arms about declining CD sales. They want to blame illegal downloading. What they should do is try to develop an artist with some fucking talent. The state of the entertainment industry is appalling. I can’t remember the last time I saw a movie that I didn’t feel ripped off by because I paid to see it in the theatre. Ok, I liked “The Departed” but that’s it for the whole year. And the truth is, movies like that used to be a dime a dozen. Charles Bronson, Clint Eastwood, Robert DeNiro, anything these guy’s touched would be gold. Now it just the same warmed over shit.
The entertainment industry is lying to us and they are using our superstars to do it. They are selling us crap disguised as star studded events. I call on the celebrities to stop making bad moves. Boycott the work untill the scripts are better. You don't need the money! “Ocean’s Twelve” how much was that to make. That was awful. Sooner or later we regular folk are gonna stop taking the bait, we already have with music. There is a reason why the record industry is losing money and it’s not illegal downloading. It’s the same reason the Rolling Stones are still the biggest grossing tour. Or that Kiss is still around. Or the reason that The Police and Van Halen are gearing up for tours. It’s because you’ve let us down. You idol makers have dropped the ball. Shame on you Hollywood! Stop recycling every thing that was ever good in lieu of something new and worthy. Shame on you Rolling Stone! Stop glorifying the bullshit that passes for talent. You gave Jack White five stars, do I need to remind you that that’s the highest amount of stars?! So what you’re saying is “Elephant” is right up there with “Tommy”. Are you out of your fucking minds??? And Broadway, I was never a big fan, but can we get a fucking play that isn’t a recycled movie or based of the music of a great (or not so great, ABBA) songwriter. Are there no “Rodgers and Hammersteins” left? Or playwrites for that matter. Or are they all making Disney movies? You haven’t given us a star that we can really believe in for over twenty years, so we’re bringing back the ones that made us happy. Acadamy Award’s are going to children. Not that anyone gives a shit anymore because it’s all about what fucking designer they are wearing. The Police aren’t nostalgia, they are just the last time music was exciting. Maybe I should get excited about Radiohead because they are reminiscent of Pink Floyd? Or maybe I should just buy “The Wall”. Kids if your still reading this go buy a copy of “Houses of the Holy” or “Quadraphenia”, Or email me and I’ll give you 100 cd’s that are actually worth buying. But you can start with “Gaucho” by Steely Dan, and Overnight Sensation” by Frank Zappa. As a challenge name one album that equals any of those by a band that started after 1987.
You can’t build a culture around hip hugging jeans, thong panties, tattoos and peircings. And you can’t sit back and just count the money because no one is doing anything better. The NBA’s newest stars are all white guys from Eastern Europe. You know why? Work ethic! America can’t sit back on its laurels and be above getting back to quality. Because when 16 year old kids start lining up to see Penelope Cruz in something subtitled, is over Johnny. Lights out.

Apathetic Neo-Conservatism

2006-07-11T11:57:00.000-04:00

Can someone please tell me what I should believe? Should I care any more about politics? Is it out of my grasp? According to most reports “Global Warming” will kill us all in the next 1000 years, unless I change my light bulbs to the kind that last longer. I would do it but those bulbs cost about ten bucks a piece and are so dim you feel like you have a brain tumor. Maybe I should invest in low pressure shower heads? All the Seinfeld jokes not withstanding, there are very few things as unsatisfying as a bad shower with no water pressure. I’m just not down with it. How about the smaller tanks on toilets? There’s a fine idea. Now I only have to flush three times to make sure there aren’t any floaters, kind of defeats the purpose. So I recycle…that’s it. It’s an extra effort on my part but I figure it’s the least I could do. Frankly, with all the delusional religious fanatics out there I don’t think we have a thousand years left to worry about ice in Antarctica. The human race is but a tiny period in the history of the world. The blink of an eye. How self-important are we to think that we could destroy the planet? I mean even if we launched all the nuclear missiles, yeah, we’d kill most everything, but some stuff would survive, and in ten thousand years or so there might be some new creature crawling out of the abyss trying to make fire. Personally, I think the Earth can’t wait to wash us off like a bad case of head lice. It must be like needing a shower for the last fifty thousand years and only having a broken low pressure showerhead. And really how freakin’ nuts to think that we have a religious right to the earth.
I’m a little Cross with Jesus
I’ve Jihad it up to here with Mohammed.
I have lost faith in faith.
I’m sick of the superstitious ignorance of the religious right trying to run our lives. The reason they get away with it is fear. Fear of the unknown. It’s true, nobody knows what happens to you when you die, but does it really make sense to think you fly up to a cloud and sit at the right hand of an all powerful being. Or does it make sense that we get stuck in a box, stuck in the ground, and we decompose. Well, there is evidence to support only one theory. And since some fella in a cave came up with the other a few thousand years ago, based on stories he heard, I’m not inclined to buy any of the shit they’re selling. Religion is so harmful to humanity that there should be warning labels inside every bible and Koran. WARNING: May make you kill or think less of people that don’t agree with you.
And who came up with 72 virgins? Sure it sounds good on the surface, but that’s a lot of pressure. You know they never forget their first. And where do these virgins come from? Did they die virgins? Or does Mohammed have some kind of “rehymenizer” or a virgin machine that’s pumping them out. I think it would be funniest if these fucking misguided terrorists got saddled with infants to take care of for all eternity. Here’s your virgins fuck wad, enjoy. And what’s in it for the women. Do they get 72 virgins too, for living a pious life? Most women I know wouldn’t want 72 virgins. Maybe they just get one stiff dick. But the real problem with Islam isn’t that everyone is getting laid in the afterlife. It’s that Muslim’s abhor sexuality and instead fucking each other, their fucking the rest of us. If there is a more misguided, self destructive, stupid bunch of inbreeds on the planet I don’t want to know about it. Every time they get together for some ceremony 3 thousand die, because someone left their tent in the middle of the path and it turned into a giant “Who” concert. If there is a god, I think he’s trying to tell them something. Yeah I guess the shit in Africa in Dubai etc., is fucked up too, but I think that’s more about some kind of tribal feud. I don’t know I could be wrong. What I do know is that they are killing each other. It has nothing to do with The USA. This Middle East shit on the other hand is just getting out of hand. We keep sticking out fingers in the dyke, trying to stop the leak and it just keeps getting worse. It’s gonna go bad, and when it does, we’ll be the asshole everyone’s pissed of at. And then we are fucked. Nukes in NY everybody! I give it 10 years before some asshole decides all the infidels need to meet their maker. Actually they already decided it, now we’re just bailing water out of the boat before they sink it.
So I have a new political mind set. I’m calling it “Apathetic Neo-Conservatism”. Basically, it means I understand that we’re all different and we should have a “live and let live” ideology, but there are too many zealots on the planet who think they know what’s best for everyone. So, it’s inevitable that in order to get along we need to be either more homogenous or more apathetic. Since it’ll take another ten thousand years for races to co-mingle to the point where we are all pretty much the same, and we really don’t have that kind of time. I’m choosing apathy. I just don’t give a crap anymore. You can’t have it both ways. You either need to kill all the extremists, or get the hell out of their backyard. Your only pissing them off, and your not gonna change them. I choose get the hell out of their yard and protect our own yards. In the old days when you fought a war you got something out of it. If you won, the land was yours. That was a fine thing. If we actually could claim Iraq or Afghanistan for our own, call it something like “Ameristan”. Claimed its resources and improved quality of life over there, maybe even get some Mexicans to move there. Put up a few McDonald’s and Starbucks. Mini malls with places you could get a good goat cheese log with the nuts on the outside. And Koreans who do the French tips for a sawbuck. Cable T.V. with five hundred channels, and pay-per-view porn. This is what we’re fighting for. This is what everyone wants. That, and the comfort of knowing the chance of a sidewinder coming through the window is really, really slim. If you want a revolution, than have a fucking revolution! Stop trying to liberate countries. It’s like using a bug bomb on a tenement house in the projects. Sure, you’ll clear out the roaches for a while, but if the building next door is infested…How long before they’re back?

Homeless Etiquette

2005-12-06T12:11:00.000-05:00

I’m not what you would call a small guy, but I’m not really big either. So why is it that people come up to me and try to get my attention by calling me things like “Big man”. This seems to be most prevalent among black pan handlers. White panhandlers stick with the much more tolerable “Hey buddy”. When ever I walk down the street in a large city and someone wants to hit me up for money, they start their pitch with, “hey big man can you…” I also get “boss”, which is not really offensive per say, but still, I am not their boss and if I was, I would probably fire them. I also get “chief” a lot, which I guess is kind of like “boss” but with the Native American flavor thrown in for no reason. Just where do people use a word like “chief” in every day life? I guess there are fire department chiefs, and chief financial officer, and the ever popular chief of police. The one thing that all these "chiefs" have in common is that they rarely interact with people that are down on their luck. Except for maybe the chief of police, and in that case I would think most pan handlers would shy away from contact with them. So why do they address me this way? Do they think I’ll be more receptive to giving them money if they call me names that assume I’m large or their superior. I think it’s a bad approach. The other day I went to the movies in a suburban mall, not usually the place you encounter pan handlers. An African American woman approached me with a clipboard and said, “Hey big man I’m trying to get money to go to college.” Now I count at least three things wrong with this picture, 1) There is no way to pay for college with spare change 2) What’s with the clip board? Was she going to take down my name and send me a thank you note or something, perhaps invite me to graduation and give me a special shout out for the buck I threw her? And 3) she called me “big man”, I don’t like that. If you’re going to give me and adjective while asking for a handout make it complementary. How about, “hey lover” or “hey handsome”, perhaps they could appeal to nostalgia and use “shiana punim”. Who cares if it’s true, you’re asking for money! A guy wouldn’t walk up to a woman at a bar and say “Hey big girl can I buy you a drink?” The only time I want to hear a woman call me big man is if my pants are down. And even then I might question her motives.

Restaurant Review

2005-11-21T16:48:00.000-05:00

I applied for a reviewer position at "blogreview.com" or something like that. Anyway, I was denied. They said I was denied for two reasons. The first being that I only had 4 articles on my site, so they couldn’t get a sense of my writing, this has inspired me to write more. The second reason was, I wouldn’t write a sample review. I guess I just find it hard to make up a review. I want to be prolific, I do, but not at the expense of caring about the content. This has inspired me to review something. So I am going to review a restaurant.
Last year I celebrated my fortieth birthday. My wife was kind enough to throw me a surprise party and a ton of friends came. I got some great presents. A couple of my friends even chipped in and bought me an IPod. One of the gifts I received was two hundred dollars in coupons to spend at a restaurant called, “Lucky Chengs” in NYC. The coupons were in serious danger of expiring at the end of this year so we needed to use them. “Lucky Chengs” resides just outside an area of NYC called Alphabet City (Alphabet City gets its name because the streets are lettered A, B, C, instead of numbered). It is located around 1st ave. and 1st st. Although I used to party a lot down in that section of town, I never heard of the place, but it is a very appropriate location for this type of restaurant. I had been to The Pyramid Club, a bar around the corner, which unlike everything else in Alphabet City from the early nineties, still exists. The draw of the Pyramid Club was that transvestites would dance around, flirt, dance on the bar like some nightmare version of Coyote Ugly, and in general make the heterosexual cliental slightly uncomfortable. This is similar to the draw of “Lucky Chengs”.
As its name might imply Lucky Cheng’s is a Chinese restaurant, that just happens to be populated by garishly dressed transvestites. Although they offer a few dishes that could be classified as Thai, so if you go for dinner there, it’s sort of like a Pacific Rim job. The place has an overall feel of being inside a circus tent. Orange and red decore, and vinyl bench seating with springs that remind you you may not be homosexual. The food is adequate, served on square white plates with a decent amount of presentation. I enjoyed my hunk of sirloin over vegetables, but after the 4 Kettle One and cranberries I might have enjoyed anything. I would rank the food as a 3 on a scale of 1 to 5. If you want really good Chinese food, take your butt just a few more blocks south to Canal Street and experience China Town. But from what I can tell people don’t dine here for the food. This place is one giant bachelorette party, complete with wall to wall transvestites. And it is pretty giant, I got lost downstairs while looking for my wife who was getting a Tarot reading from “Kyler the Improbable”. There just seemed to be room after room of little private parties, I was a little fearful of the bathroom for that reason. I finally did find my wife, who was getting her reading. Now, I’m no expert on the paranormal, I think there are probably people out there who have a genetic disposition to having visions and getting a vibe off you, but those people are rare. So if I’m skeptical of whether or not a guy, who works out of the basement of a drag queen restaurant, wearing a Disney wizard hat and a cape, has “The Gift”, well all I can say is, sorry Kyler, tricks are for kids. I would never participate in a tarot reading for two reasons; one, no one really believes that crap anyway, so if it’s good news you won’t believe it either, and two; god forbid its bad news, then what, your all stressed. What’s the point? Well, Kyler must have sensed I was a skeptic because he shooed me away rather rudely proclaiming, “This is a private reading, bye, bye now.” Whatever, we’re there to have fun… right? If my wife wants to blow thirty bucks, listening to Kyler tell her that “…there’s a lot of confusion around that decision,” have fun.
And there was a bunch of other ways to blow money aside from eating and drinking. I have to give a special nod to the balloon artist. This guy was maybe the best balloon artist in the world. That said, I wouldn’t pay for the privilege of wearing a giant ejaculating penis on my head. Although, it was interesting to have the phrase, “Turn this way so I can see your vagina,” be acceptable in public. In addition, there was a wandering masseuse, who looked like he could really end up hurting someone. But the big draw is the trannies. The place offers a floor show, which is why all the bachelorettes flock there. The main talent is a Chinese guy/gal who talks really fast, and sings songs like “Endless Love” in a combination falsetto baritone. Interspersed through out is what can only be likened to the chaos of a Japanese television show. There are platforms where the transvestite “Performers?”, will take highly embarrassed patrons, and proceed to perform very graphic lap dances on them. The men submit to things such as headstands in their laps and leg locks around their heads. All the while their signifcant others, are turning blue laughing at the misfortune of having their heads pushed into the crotch of a two hundred pound he/she wearing lingerie. The women suffer a more intrusive fate as they are lifted into a headstand and have their crotches stroked. Oddly enough though, they aren’t half as embarrassed as the men. You could run a roller coaster around all the gender bending that is taking place. When we arrived, I was under the impression that although I am what would be considered a “Regular Guy” I would find this entertaining. But I must admit, I was slightly uncomfortable with heavily made-up men bearing large breasts, rubbing my back and fondling my bald spot. I threatened my wife with a fork if she volunteered me for any part in the show. Drinking definitely helps though, and by the time the shot “girl” came around I was buzzed enough to go with the flow. It sort of wins you over, like going to see “La Cage aux Folles” only raunchy. This place bills itself as a place to shock your friends from Desmoines, and in that regard they will not disappoint. It’s not overpriced, dinner for six was about three hundred, gratuity included, and we drank like fish. And though we were tempted to stick around for dessert, they don’t serve coffee. So I recommend going up the street to Venerio’s on 2nd ave. and 12th street. If you are a died in the wool homophobic conservative, or maybe just out with your in-laws, than this is not the place for you. But if you planning a bachelorette party, or out with a group, (the group must include girls, this is not the place for a bunch of straight guys) than you should have a good time. You might even get lucky, one guy had an entire bachelorette party take turns giving him lap dances, but I wouldn’t bank on that happening.

To find out more about Lucky Cheng’s go to http://www.planetluckychengs.com/

Men and Women, A Need to Know Basis

2005-11-14T16:24:00.000-05:00

Why do men constantly say things like “I don’t understand women.” Is it because they really don’t understand women or is it that they just don’t relate to women. Granted, there are some really stupid guys out there who will forever and ever do the wrong thing when it comes to women. And it is for you, you ignorant bastards, who give the rest of us a bad name, that I am speaking to now. Some of you who thought they knew what was going on might reconsider your approach. And then there will be a ton of stubborn assholes that will laugh at the funny parts but consider it all a joke. Although funny at times I assure you this ain’t no joke.
What are men? Well I’ll tell you one thing, we are not from Mars. Let’s just say, we are kind of like a basic computer program. We know what we like and if you try to install a more sophisticated program on us, well, we’ll crash. We like to eat, sleep, fuck, and have our egos stroked. We like to wear nice clothes too but we don’t like trying stuff on. We enjoy television. Most men love to watch sports but it’s not a prerequisite, there are a ton who could give a shit if the Giants win on Sunday. We love to spend money on gadgets. Cool toys are definitely a driving force in us. For those of us that work hard and are really successful, getting into the Porsche at the end of the day is the reward.
Another forced that propels us through our day is our penis. The penis is kind of like a barometer of base desires. In men, base desires are what make us work. Let’s take Ronny (a made up guy). He plays lead guitar. Why? Some will say that they play on stage because it gives them a high. And yes, it is an adrenaline rush. But in the end it’s about the adoring fans screaming your name. It wouldn’t be the same if there were no people to hear you play. So it’s about being cool and having your ego stroked. Which in the end is about people loving you but you don’t have to give back all that love in return. Being a rock star or celebrity is a true win, win for a guy. You just have to stay cool and people will love you. Thousands of simultaneous relationships going on without any regard for other people’s emotions. Wow, just the thought of it makes me horney. Some guys will grow tired of groupies. They’ll end up settling down and having a few kids because it’s what they think they want, but it isn’t. If you’re a guy and have a thousand women (or men if your gay) willing to have sex with you daily, and this is sex on your terms, all about you, its people who have come to worship at the alter of your penis, tell me how a regular life stands a chance against that. You’re looking at five years tops and then its either affairs or divorce. Because it’s all about ego if you’re a guy. If anyone wants to see what men are truly capable of look at Wilt Chamberlain, 20,000 women, Gene Simmons also about 20,000 women. Now that’s pure unadulterated, high test, testosterone. And a major difference between men and women. If a woman had 20,000 sexual partners we’d say she’s damaged goods. Probably got molested as a child and is looking for love in all the wrong places. She’s a self-hating, misguided nymphomaniac. But when a guy hears that another guy has had thousands of women, we do the math to see if it’s possible, think about how many a day that would be and how generally cool it would be to be able to claim that title yourself, sort of right up there with hitting the most home runs in baseball.
But enough about rock stars they are too self obsessed to read this anyway. It’s is still about ego for all men. If you dress like a slob, and you’re over twenty, you’ve basically given up. When you meet someone who will pump up you ego, you feel better about yourself. You start caring about things. You develop your ego. It’s like a muscle, the more you work it the bigger and sexier it’ll get. True if you get too big an ego, other people are gonna think you’re an asshole. But you’re so arrogant by then you don’t give a shit. Most regular guys don’t have rock star egos. Usually only your Wall Street types who make half a million plus a year. Some how having all that money gives you the right to have sycophantic parasites that will forever pump you up. They smile while you pick up the tab and hope the money will just rub off on them. A lot of the way megalomaniacs act can be blamed on women. Women are always there to pump up an asshole and make him think, “Well she is hot and I got her, so I can’t be too bad.” Wrong you’re an asshole and she loves your money. Now I know a few Wall Street types and that not to say there aren’t nice guys out there, there are some. But you know the saying about nice guys.
So what about these women, what do they want? Every little girl plays dress up, sings and dances, want to be the bride because it’s the prettiest dress in the closet. And for most (not all) women it’s about being the prettiest and the center of attention. Why is it that the wedding day is the most important day of a young woman’s life. Is it because it’s the beginning of the most important relationship that will define the next fifty years? No! It’s because she gets to throw a forty thousand dollar party where she is the guest of honor. A party where she wears the most spectacular dress, is the most beautiful and everyone in the room can’t stop commenting on how beautiful she looks. This is also why the bride’s father throws the party. The groom, while fully aware of the spectacle, probably could have done with 100 friends and a few kegs. If he was really involved he might even throw together a really special mix tape.
Guys, women are not that complex. The ones that are or think they are, are psycho. These are the truly self-absorbed ones who shouldn’t be touched with ten foot poles, no matter how hot they are. But men, who invariably speak the language of the penis more clearly than English or any other language will always seek out style over substance. Just take a look at the two stereotypes. The unemployed rich divorcee, and the woman who has been married for 30 years. The rich divorcee is a bitch, she became one because the only talent she has is her looks and manipulating rich men. Sure she might have marketable skills but she doesn’t really care to use them. She married an asshole because they had so much in common. He married her because she set the trap but more so because she looked good on his arm. What’s more she knew that when she married him. Now, nobody can carry on a ruse for more than a few years, so, inevitably she shows what a bitch she really is because she grows to hate the fact that he ignores her to do all this high profile work that keeps her in the style she likes. She forgets that this is why she married him in the first place. Only back then she was so busy baiting the trap and hustling herself that she didn’t take the future into account, it all looked like fancy cars and country clubs. But now she’s been married for two years and she thinks because she’s got the time to sit around board, and think of all the ways he could be romantic, she has been gypped. She is getting sick of disappointment. She hates the fact that he says he’ll be home, she plans a dinner and then he calls in saying he has to work late again. Fair enough, that sucks, but how did you get there to begin with? Who exactly did you marry? She wants the driven A-type guy that would make millions. That’s what she groomed herself for. She couldn’t let her good looks and style go to waste doing laundry and dropping the kids off a school. He’s just being himself. A self absorbed asshole. Sooner or later they are cheating on each other. She is probably the first one to screw the tennis instructor or masseuse, because she is the one who feels board and ignored. He is the last one to know she is screwing around because basically, he’s very, very, busy. And look out, because rich guys like toys, and aside from cars and electronics, guns are numero uno. So there is always that chance that by the time he finds out, if he isn’t already screwing his secretary, (because lets face it he’s rich and there will always be women that worship that) there might be some bloodshed.
This folks is a fundamental issue that men have with women, the “I’m not a fucking mind reader problem”. Women live under the pretense that if the two of you are having a problem, and they have to tell you, then it’s already too late. Men are fixers by nature. “Is something wrong, just tell me so I can fix it?” As you might imagine there are inherent difficulties to the meshing of the two philosophies. Now, not all women are schemers and manipulators. There are a ton of nice girls out there. But all women need you to “BE THERE FOR THEM”. That’s why they get along so well with each other. Look at the girl crying in the ladies room, a complete stranger comes up to her and says, “What’s wrong?”. Now that’s all that woman has to say, and then she just has to stand there and let the crying girl blubber all over her about her man problems, or she lost her job or whatever. The point is she is there for the crying girl. Even better if the two women are in the same demographic, they are now best buddies. But here the kicker; the crying girl, who needed a shoulder because she had a tough day at the office, gets suddenly introspective and is now pissed at her husband because HE wasn’t there for her. Not that he has any idea. He’s going to come home tonight to a cold TV dinner (if she cooks) and have no clue what he did. Hence the phrase, “I don’t understand women”.
Fellas, this is not your fault, unless you’re by nature an uncaring bastard. Women won’t admit it because it would make them appear crazy, but they are capable of reorganizing their lives at a moments notice. The girl you woke up with this morning may read a book, take a yoga class or just listen to a friend’s problem, and it could trigger her evaluating her own life and your relationship. You come home to a completely different set of rules. What happened? You have no idea. How do you deal? O.K. I’m gonna tell you a secret. Don’t fight it. If you sense that there is something amiss don’t ask, “What’s wrong?”. First take a minute to get hold of your own emotions, go to the bathroom. Then when you come back sit down and make eye contact and ask her how her day was. And very important, while she’s talking, DON’T turn on the T.V. or pick up the paper. Don’t even skim the mail or look in the refrigerator. If you need a beer say “Honey can I get you a glass of wine?” and while you’re doing that get your beer. Try to focus on what she’s saying, and just listen without talking, because… you will be tested on it later.
What women don’t realize is that although all this Dr. Phil shit seems very healthy on the surface, it is, for the most part, alien to men. It takes a real effort to get into the habit of listening to what may seem to most men like the petty problems of others. Sure we love our ladies and want to be there for them, but fuck, they’re adults’ not little girls, sometime you just have to work it out. Men are more instinctual, they don’t dwell on the problem as much as try to resolve it. Men can sit there and say things like, “I don’t sit and bother her with all my day’s bullshit.” And that’s OK to feel that way because you’re a guy, and this is important, you’re right. But they have the pussy so they make the rules. So as a guy you’re never right. And if you make an argument that proves your right, woe is you, you’ve only made it worse. All that testosterone and logic is only gonna sink you deeper in the shit. It’s all about the love. It’s high maintenance sure but you need to ask yourself if it’s worth it. And if it is, you need to learn the dance steps. If it’s not cut your losses and move on, life is to short to put up with someone else’s shit if you don’t love and care about them. And that goes for the ladies too.

All Hail Vagina!

2005-09-13T12:21:00.000-04:00

I have a friend of mine that lives in California she is 41. She calls me sometimes, and tells me how this guy she’s screwing tickles her here, and another guy likes her to piss on him. So I know women over 40 get sex. But it’s all good, although I’d like my wife to borrow her sex drive for one day. OK maybe a weekend. If women only knew how horny men were then they might try harder to please us. Either that or they would be so totally repulsed that they would run screaming. Honestly nature has dealt women the perfect hand; they have a monopoly on vagina, zero competition. You don’t have to travel back that far in history to find the time where women were shit on. They didn’t even get the vote until like 1928 or something. If there was anything, and I mean anything else in the animal kingdom that had lets say, the brain of a yak but looked like Scarlet Johansson, women would be out of business. Men would be like, “Yeah she chew’s her own cud, but just look at her.” Don’t get me wrong, I love my wife, she’s my best friend, but if a thousand years ago men discovered some creature on an island that we found attractive and it didn’t appear that we screwing sheep, it would be a whole nuther story. Or if we lived in a solar system where we mingled with alien races, some of which happen to have “magic alien vaginas”, well depending on where women stood in the food chain when men discovered this, they might not be CEO’s today. To my knowledge there is no force on the planet more powerful than the vagina. But who knows, robot poon might be just around the corner.

So you want to be a "Stay-at-Home-Dad"?

2005-09-12T15:32:00.000-04:00

My wife in an important executive and I maintain myself an artist and stay at home dad. Being a stay at home dad is an interesting paradox. You can be proud and sensitive in front of the other moms, but you won’t associate with any other stay at home dads. Also with the wife it’s difficult. Other moms can manipulate their spouses in the way most women are able to manipulate men. They can order them around, treat them like children and generally demand they acquiesce to their needs. Case in point; Mom gets up with the children at seven a.m., dresses them fixes breakfast, gets them ready for the day and then proceeds to be part chauffer, part referee, part disciplinarian, a whole lot of house keeper and chef. All the while, she is taking care of running the house, making sure bills are paid, scheduling doctor and other appointments and last but not least keeping the fridge filled with groceries. God forbid there shouldn’t be milk for coffee in the morning. Oh by the way, mom went to college and wonders why and if she’ll ever get any use out of the MBA on the wall. Now, Dad comes home at seven-fifteen (if she’s lucky). And he left the house at six a.m. because he has to be in New York City by eight thirty. He worked hard all day merging corporations and having high powered meetings. But the minute he comes through the door he gets handed a child with a dirty diaper and gets told the kids need baths. Mom is wiped and she’s meeting Estelle at the local pub for a drink. Bye Daddy. (F.U. Daddy). And Daddy because he’s a man and only because he’s a man says, “O.K. honey see you later. Have fun.” Now I’ve been on both sides of the coin and I have to say being a mom is a lot more challenging. While sitting in meetings all day and having high powered lunches is mentally taxing. It will never strip you of the will to live like a rough day with three small children. Stay at home dad’s kind of have the worst of both worlds. While being completely in charge of the family and running the daily household, they’re still are treated like wayward children, second guessed on their decisions and generally told what to do by the mom, whose not really there all that much . And weekends are no longer made for Michelob. The wife still runs the show, sleeps late, and goes to get the nails done or the beauty parlor. I mean, excuse me for not being more high maintenance. The worst part is, is that I almost enjoy my family’s dependence on me. It’s nice to be needed. But historically men are never right in any confrontation with women, and that doesn’t change when the man assumes the typically female role. I am generally a happy guy though. A regular guy. Balding, slightly overweight with regular guy needs. So the hope is that all this sensitivity and doting will translate into more sex. Not the case, but after eleven years of marriage I guess I get an average amount. True the Mrs. could be hornier, but I live well, so I guess it’s a tradeoff.

Now I live in Jersey!

2005-09-09T10:28:00.000-04:00

Can’t we all just get along? I like to start some times with a question. This does not imply that I have any of the answers, sometime you can seem smarter if you ask the right question. Since this is the first in what I hope to be a long line of informative, educational and at times, humorous essays, I guess I’ll introduce myself.
My name is Jeff, let’s just leave it at that. Maybe if I knew you a little better I could tell you more but since I’m new to this and have no idea how much hate mail I might generate, let’s just leave it at Jeff. I live in New Jersey. Being originally from New York, I’ve always considered New Jersey to be sort of a red headed step-child. Aside from knowing how to get to Giant’s Stadium or Great Adventure, I had no knowledge of the state. And I was proud of it in a weird way. There’s a Chris Rock joke that say’s that certain black people are proud of “not knowing”, that this is part of “Keeping it real”. Well, I can identify with that because that’s the way New Yorkers are. Most that live within an hour of Manhattan consider themselves close enough to be lumped in with the true in habitants of the five boroughs of New York City. And that, in addition to New York being the center of the universe, puts most above acknowledging the rest of the country. You can sing “I love LA”, and “Yellow Rose of Texas” until your blue in the face. New Yorkers will remain stubbornly unaffected by your allegiance. We are so aloof about being from New York that we may actually feel sympathy for you and your small minded patriotism. In the long line of states that we feel are inferior, we give perhaps the biggest nod toward New Jersey. Sure there is affection for New Jersey, kind of like having a brother with Down’s syndrome. But true New Yorkers pride themselves on not knowing anything about it. If you asked a New Yorker how to get to Edison, New Jersey he probably wouldn’t even favor you with a reply. If you’re lucky you might get a “What are you, some kind of comedian?” look and then he’d dismiss you. That just the way it is. If you were walking along, and an ant pulled on your pants leg to get your attention, and you bend down. The ant says “Hey buddy, down here.” So you look down mostly out of curiosity, and the ant asks, “Hey buddy can you point me in the direction of large rock and elm?” Do you A) Step on the ant. B) Say “How the fuck should I know? Do I look like a fuckin’ ant to you? C) Stare at the ant stupidly until it goes away. Or, D) Consider how to direct this ant to the proper destination. Now, even if this happened to you while you were walking though your backyard in East Bumfuck, Kentucky, and you answered A, B, or C, well then, you understand a New York mentality. If you answered D, then you’re a fucking tourist.
But now I live in New Jersey. I couldn’t move straight here I had to first move to the Midwest to deprogram myself. And believe me that will deprogram you. If you are from New York and move to the Midwest it’s kind of like joining a cult. Suddenly everyone is nice, and will give you change of a dollar for the meter. Without making you buy something. People say hello out of the blue. The smell of apple pie has replaced the smell of homelessness and urine and the streets are clean. Now at first you’re stubborn, you don’t want to give in, but then you do, and it’s not like you feared it would be. You thought it was going to feel like someone replaced you with a pod, but it feels good. You might even become a Cub’s or a Bull’s fan. But you hold on to your Mets cap just in case.
So long story short, I can now tell you how to get to Edison. I live in New Jersey with my family, wife and three boys. It’s a bit rural but I can be across the Holland Tunnel in forty minutes. So I hold on to my status.