Thursday, December 17, 2015

Pharma vs. Karma, Bro

So this is the second hot-topical post I'll post.
Click on the image above to read the story.

Usually, I believe it is not healthy to rejoice in the disgrace of others, but I admit this development pleases me deeply. When you operate on that level of avarice and greed, a much bigger shark in the sea will eventually take a beefy bite out of your ass. This shark was the FBI, and guess who the little fishies were that told on you. Social media. Someone got pissed off, rightfully so, and dug deep. So here's the message to future Pharma Bros: Flaunting your Patrick Bateman-like expertise at getting rich will not help you in the digital era, scumbag. Does everyone know that your lawyer was ALSO arrested under these charges? 

Fuck you very much.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

The Most Interesting Beer Ad Campaign In The World...

Three times a day the East kneels and prays to him.

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Bruce Calling Caitlyn (This may be the only topically relevant post I post…)

I missed the Diane Sawyer interview but watched the E! special in which Bruce respectfully (earnestly and affectionately) disclosed to his wife that he was going to transform his entire being into someone else, regardless of every external force in the known Universe. I was moved, and proud of him. Her.

After years of watching Pawn Stars, I learned that memorabilia only becomes significantly valuable after the death of a known celebrity. Living legend stuff just isn't as cool, somehow. 

So how does this work? Bruce Jenner no longer exists. A new star was born to the world, ostensibly overnight, at age 65. Even if this eventuality is a flash in the big oily media pan for now, it is to me far more historical than a photo of Bruce running in the 1976 decathlonbecause Caitlyn's coming out may make life easier for a great number of people who are inclined to follow suit.

For whatever reason, I’ve had this mostly empty box of Wheaties on my desk for a few years. The sell-by date on the box top reads 22FEB2013.
Box goes to top bidder. As a bonus there's still a few delectable Wheaties flakes left inside.

Friday, May 1, 2015

The Background of Bophades Gnutz

Like most half-breeds, Bophades was born the son of a rape victim in the bone-chilling wilds of the Iuz Empire. You’d think his mother, Tiffany Gnutz, was the human—but no. Because Bophades’ father was both evil and insane, he did not care that Tiffany the Ogress had hairy tits, a cleft lip, and smelled like a yeasty codpiece. Nameless to Bophades, his father led sporadic bandit raids in the foothills overlooking Dorakaa. On such a raid he overpowered Tiffany in a barn and filled her snatch with his intellectually-superior human jizz. After the raping, Tiffany’s flight through the stony terrain separated her from her tribe. The pregnant and bare-hoofed ogress dragged Bophades’ older brother Gnum by the hand, and fled west.  

The two starving refugees covered hundreds of perilous miles before Tiffany pumped out Bophades in the muck of a fetid marsh, whence Bophades chewed off and gobbled down his own umbilical cord. Infant half-ogres are surprisingly mobile, becoming ambulatory at only two weeks. (They knuckle-drag like an orangutan.) Seeing the torchlights of a trading post ahead, the trio hit the banks of the Dulsi River—just downstream from the wretched hive of scum and villainy known as Greenreach.

Greenreach is predominantly peopled by humans and orcs, most of whom are assholes. This is where Gnum Gnutz taught Bophades Gnuts how to fightbare-knuckled and for money. Ogre genes grow you up fast, so in the prime of their adolescence, the boys capitalized on the locals’ affinity for lawlessness and depravity. Gawkers splashed copper and silver coins at their feet just for pummeling each other senseless. Usually, these tussles were embittered acts of violence, inflamed by profound animus between the boys—mainly because Gnum Gnutz was such a dick! But both boys were stalwart absorbers of punishment, their fighting style and marathon melees always a crowd-pleaser.

As a full-bred ogre with two years on his little brother, Gnum Gnutz had a formidable advantage of girth. But Gnum was kind of a retard, only drawing from a repertoire of clobbers and haymakers, wild jabs, and no defensive sidesteps or blocks. By age 14, Bophades had mastered bobbing and weaving. He often outfoxed his mightier opponent, grappling Gnum to submission or knocking him cold with a flashing uppercut. Bophades, luxuriating in his rising man-child glory, would scrape up his coins amid cheers and then promptly spend them at the Belching Bugbear and the Lion’s Den.

In the rowdy streets below Panshazek’s Tower, a mercenary promoter named Choakzondik took note of the boys’ talents and introduced them to the lucrative underground sparring circuit in Greenreach. He recruited them to compete in cage matches—sometimes against each other—though often in tag-team affairs with other recruits. These were not to-the-death beatdowns, and even the losers would take home a day’s wage in a matter of minutes. But the unbridled violence in their ass-whoopings would never fail to entertain the city’s spirited throng. “The bloodier the better,” Choakzondik would tell his punch-drunk gladiators.

One sultry Wealsun night, Bophades found himself nursing a ruptured left testicle from pounding his pud too aggressively. Choakzondik showed no pity and insisted the young half-ogre make good on his scheduled bout. So on this night, Bophades was embarrassed in the ring by a visiting mountain orc from the Howling Hills, Burt Crabtree, who beat the shit out of him. But at the nearby Post-Brawl Tavern, Mr. Crabtree had the decency to buy Bophades a no-hard-feelings consolation beer, which Bophades refused to accept because he is devoid of all grace and civility, because he has an 8 charisma. Instead, Bophades flipped the tankard of Svirfneblin Stout into Burt’s face, resulting in a post-brawl brawl. Gnum, muscling in to break up the skirmish, met with the slash of Crabtree’s blade as the orc drew his short sword. ‘Twas a critical hit, slashing Gnum’s jugular and causing 5 bleed damage. He bled out within seconds. Before the stunned crowd could respond, the Greenreach militia stormed the scene. Bophades clawed, bit, strangled, and clobbered the four guardsmen who eventually hogtied him like Bri and Jay Krauss hogtied Pat that one night. Despite being escorted out of town (for eternity), Bophades’ last stand was the best fight he’d ever lost.

Even though Gnum Gnutz treated Bophades like a piece of shit pretty much his entire life, he shared a certain bond with his older brother. He looked up to him—figuratively—but mostly literally. They did enjoy hog-porking together on Sundays. Vowing to avenge the death of Gnum and the broken heart of his mother, Bophades struck north toward the Howling Hills. He would find that cocksucker, Burt Crabtree, once his left ball fully healed. He would tear him limb-from-limb, teabag his gasping last breath, and spray a steaming diarrhea dump on his face. Oh yes, he would find him…

 The End

Monday, March 9, 2015

This Is Not A Photo Of Me

I have no idea who it is, but I am so deeply amused by the expression on his face that I want to share it with everyone. It’s a face that says, “C’mon, seriously now. Sure it is, man. You go on thinking that.”
I love irony, and I have never seen a more ironic smirk. So I suppose that means I love this dude in the moment in which this photo was snapped.

Well done, stranger. I want to buy you a pile of kittens and put them in front of you, and then take another photo. If it’s equally ironic looking—all the better.

Thank you. Please don’t sue me.