As if we needed more proof…

by on August 17, 2003 @ 5:50 pm


LANGLEY, Washington (AP) — An amusement park operator was killed Saturday when his hair got caught on a roller coaster car, pulling him up as high as 40 feet before he fell, back-first, onto a fence.

Doug McKay, 40, was spraying lubricant on the tracks of the Super Loop 2, a ride at the Island County Fair on Whidbey Island, when his long hair got caught on a car full of fairgoers, sheriff’s spokeswoman Jan Smith said.

Nowhere in the article does the word “mullet” appear. On the other hand, how many amusement park operators have you met who *don’t* live the “business in front, party in the rear” lifestyle when it comes to their greasy unwashed locks? It might also be reasonable to guess that he was trying to use the grease from his hair to lubricate the ride…but let’s not push it ok? We will assume that this man had a mullet before he was scalped by a carnival ride.

This is about the point where I have decided that this post should not become a post about mullets. Instead I’ve decided to honor Mr Doug McKay, 40, by writing his eulogy right here on (where we care about the little people.)

Doug, or “flyboy” as he liked to be called was a simple man. He always dreamed of someday becoming a pilot. His dreams were never fulfilled because the air force told him that his eyes are just too close together…a trait he shared with one of the men believed to be his uncle and/or father. Doug was steady in his resolve, however, and he did the next best thing to piloting. He became an amusement park ride operator. Many times he was offered promotions to the position of ring-toss guy or even weight and birthday guesser, but he always turned them down. I suppose he was addicted to the simple thrills associated with operating and maintaining the carnival’s flagship attractions…the rides. Doug’s tireless work brought happiness to many youngsters, even the ones who were an inch or so too short to ride the Hurricane or the Gravitron. Given his tireless work, Doug was still never too busy to show a young lady that trick he did where he put his entire fist in his mouth while he lit a cigarette that he had crammed up his nose.

He always said that no man could ever hope to tame the Super Loop 2 and it looks like he was wrong…Doug did tame the Super Loop 2…he just had a little trouble with the fence on the way down. Keep reaching for the stars ol’ buddy but have old Saint Pete cut that hair of yours when you get to heaven!

In other news, the Island County Fair employees declined to cut their mullets as a show of support for Doug’s family because they’re currently unaware of the existance of any other hairstyles.

BINGO! Now…snack on some lead and hand over the loot.

by on August 5, 2003 @ 11:00 am

HOBE SOUND, Florida (AP) — A woman who won thousands of dollars playing bingo was shot in the stomach early Monday morning when she refused to give the money to would-be robbers, sheriff’s officials said.

Pamela Anderson, 39, won $5,900 at bingo Sunday night near West Palm Beach before leaving with a friend for her home in Hobe Sound, about 30 miles north. A car with two men and two women trailed behind her. When Anderson arrived home early Monday, one man pointed a gun at her and told her to open her car door and give him the money.

When she refused, he shot her. Anderson then tried to drive to the hospital but started to faint and crashed into construction barricades.

She was taken by helicopter to a West Palm Beach hospital and was listed in critical condition Monday. Her passenger was unhurt.

The suspects didn’t get any of Anderson’s money, authorities said.

I have problems with several parts of this. Before I get to those, let us first review what we learn from this incident. First, we learn what a 39 year old Hobe Sound Florida woman’s life is worth. If her own actions are any indication, it is worth $5900. If she dies, I’m sure her family will engrave on her tombstone a loving tribute to her valient death in the name of bingo winnings.

Now…First off I noticed her name is Pam Anderson. We don’t even have to touch that one. I’ll let it slide and you can just make up a punchline in your own head.

Second, the carload of redneck scumbags trailed the woman with the cash for THIRTY MILES. They then SHOT her. The worst part about this is that they DIDN’T EVEN GET THE FUCKING MONEY!!! Its not like there was just ONE scumbag, or two. There were FOUR and none of them had the good criminal instinct to grab the goddam swag after they capped the lady? I’m not condoning their actions…its just that I was raised to do things 100% and I tend to get a little irate when I hear about a job done half-assedly. This incomplete robbery is a direct assault on my core values! Hell, when you factor in the costs of gas and ammo, the crooks actually LOST money in this deal. Plus 10 evil points for the shooting and minus 5 for running away empty handed

Third… “Her Passenger was unhurt.” The passenger stayed in the car!? What in the wide wide world of sports led to THAT development?

I can imagine what the dialogue must have been like in that car following the shooting. Actually, check that. I can imagine what the “choose your own adventure” version of this story would look like.

“Your friend has been shot! Do you:
1. Go inside the house and call an ambulance (turn to the next page)
2. Have her lie down in the back of the car while you drive her to the hospital (turn to page 78)
3. Tell her that she had better step on it if she wants to get to the ER before she bleeds to death (turn to page 100)”

That must have been some kind of crazy carnival ride until Pam passed out and crashed the car. I’m sure some kind of ironic song was playing on the radio the whole time.
Radio: “takin care of business…everyday! takin care of business…everyway!”
Passenger: Hey Pam I can see your ribcage through your bullet wound and its making me a little uncomfortable.

Oh well…look for the “driver with a gunshot wound” thrill ride to be making its way to carnivals everywhere in 2004. It will be replacing the tilt-a-whirl.

Last I checked, Subway does not take food stamps

by on August 4, 2003 @ 8:55 pm

Have you seen the latest subway commercial? My memory is a bit fuzzy because I usually turn my head and look away when a formerly big fat fuck comes on the screen and tries to sell me sandwiches with too much fucking bread. Subway diet? Yeah…I’ll believe that one when that tubby bitch goes shirtless and reveals a lack of lipo scars. Then I’ll vomit all over my living room.

Actually, the latest commercial features a pair of formerly fat fucks. They appear to be at a BBQ of some sort preaching about their combined weight loss on the Subway diet and lo and behold…they’re black…er I mean they’re “URBAN.”

Clearly, this is Subway’s answer to McDonalds’ “Get your Mac on” ads which feature inner city youths pounding tasty Big Macs like they were Mountain Dew or sweet poverty inducing crack. (You thought you were getting out of that last paragraph without any mention of crack!? Ah…you’re quite silly if you thought that.)

Marketing Subway to fatass poor people is bound to have its problems. First off, Subway isn’t free. Hell, its not even cheap. Its even LESS cheap when you’re buying it for yourself AND your 5 kids. Its most definitely more expensive than the $0 it costs for 5 pounds of chicken (legs) and a box of HOHO’s on food stamps. Second of all, when a poor motherfucker hears “Subway diet” he assumes it has something to do with standing on an actual subway platform begging for change until he has enough to buy cigarettes and booze. Finally, all the Subway in the world isn’t gonna help you lose that fat ass if you present it with a plate of rib tips and fries as an encore.

For now Subway, if you’re reading this, lets market the trendy expensive diets to fatass suburban housewives and let the poor people diet the way they always have, by skipping dinner, eating a few hostess cakes and government cheese and running away from the occassional bullet or police car.

Once again, the LAPD dazzles us with its brilliance

by on August 1, 2003 @ 8:33 pm

LOS ANGELES, Aug. 1 Rap mogul Marion Suge Knight may be the ultimate target of a series of deadly gang shootings, according to a published report.

FOUR of the eight people killed in slayings that stretch back to 1997 were close associates of Knight, the Los Angeles Times reported in Fridays editions. Investigators have warned Knight to be cautious.
Word on the street is theres a hit out on Suge Knight, said Det. Michael Caouette of the Los Angeles County Sheriffs Department.

I have to commend the LAPD on some bang up police work. How amazing is it that they figured all this out!? Citizens of Los Angeles should sleep soundly knowing there are such outstanding public servents watching out for them (unless of course you happen to be black.) Suge Knight connected with all sorts of gang violence!? I never woulda guessed such a thing. I did some other digging and found a few other amazing things uncovered by the LAPD.

White people may be the target of crime after dark in Compton


Heroin use may result in addiction and infectious disease

If you leave your car unlocked, the chances of it getting stolen or urinated in increases considerably

Ahhhh now that’s some good police work. Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna take some PCP and go out and see if I can’t get a bunch of black cops to beat the shit out of me on videotape because I want to be the next CourtTV sensation.

Hey! Lets talk about the piece of human garbage that gave birth on a Boston train.

by on July 31, 2003 @ 9:45 am

Here is the link to the Boston Globe Article

In case you don’t want to read the whole article, I’ll clip the parts that win at “teH funneY”

About 90 seconds later, Chin said, “I saw a head, then full baby fall out from her skirt, hit the floor sideways and slide the length of the doorway, stopping when he bumped up against the next row of seats. Still she stared out the window. Either she didn’t know it happened or didn’t want to acknowledge it.”

I’m glad that the eyewitness specifies that he saw “a full baby” because it somehow would have been less shocking if she gave birth to just a leg or something.

After leaving the train and heading for the stairs up to the station’s main lobby, witnesses said, the placenta fell to the platform. Judge turned around, grabbed the afterbirth, put it in her shoulder bag, and headed upstairs.

If I were her, I would have taken advantage of this unique turn of events to give the afterbirth to a homeless man and say “here man, go have yourself a good meal. You might want to rinse it off though because it fell on the ground. Sorry bout that.

MBTA police intercepted her and took the baby boy, who was breathing and kicking but not crying. As two officers examined the baby in the front seat of a police SUV

The kid was not crying? Horace Q. Christ, this kid is going to be a tough motherfucker someday. After a short fall out of his mother’s “human garbage chute” this kid rolled around on a noisy, dirty train before being scooped up, carried away, and subsequently seized by police. I mean shit, sometimes just smelling the inside of one of those public trains makes me want to cry. I wash my hands when I get home after riding the train. This kid rolled around in a puddle of afterbirth mixed with floor dirt. Yep, this kid is a tough little mofo. Someday I’ll bet he’s the one who gets all his friends to switch to needle drugs.

The kid was born on the Red line train so I think it’s reasonable to name it “Red” or perhaps “Bubba” because it sounds alot like the sound he made when he hit the floor.
The woman works for the Boston Public school cafeteria system so one might assume that…well uhhhh maybe I shouldn’t analyze that angle. After all, its almost lunchtime.

Sweet merciful crap, what happened to all the rants?

by on July 27, 2003 @ 9:21 pm

My first rant and Nostrin’s two rants have vanished! If I weren’t a lazy man I would post a picture of me not giving a shit because I have my first rant saved on my hard drive.

And by “saved on my hard drive” I mean “Tattooed on my cock.”

I happened to go to a flea market today because I needed to pick up a set of dishes with minor imperfections and a couple stolen boxes of disposable razor blades. A couple minutes after I got there, the skies opened up and there was a torrential downpour.

Sweet Jesus, I haven’t heard that much cursing and yelling in Spanish since I walked through the kitchen of Red Lobster dressed as an INS agent last halloween. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all Mexicans. Your garden variety urban scumbag had many a van parked at the ol’ flea market and they were all scrambling to cram their tablefuls of crap into their vehicles. It was like a whirling dervish of unwashed limbs, banana boxes full of loose silverware, and stolen DVD’s.

In the confusion, did they notice the flashlight I helped myself to off of one of their tables? Of course not! It was one of those really nice MagLite dealies that you can use to clobber people. When I got it home and tested it out, it didn’t work. Fuck that noise about buying a bulb for it. Its in the dumpster behind my house if anyone wants it.

A well thought out business proposal that I will send to SONY.

by on July 22, 2003 @ 9:40 pm

And to of coursemanufacturers of the worlds only 6000 dollar sex doll, for that rare breed of man who really cant get laid with twenties hanging out of his pants.

Greetings! I have an idea for a new game in which I think you gentlemen might be interested! Its a variation on the very popular Dance Dance Revolution that has urban youths all over the country laying their crack money on the line so they can prove theyre the sickest dancer in town y0. Word to your mother. Anyway, my idea is for a game called Fuck Fuck Revolution The PS2 would hook up to a custom RealDoll and the player would score points for hitting the sensor pads at the right times! I figure her ass could be the triangle button, her right breast could be R1 and her left breast could be L1. The back of her head could be the square button in case you want to work some donkey punch action in thereyou get the idea. After all, youre Japanese game designers so I would imagine this game is going to improve your sex life by an order of magnitude. Please consider my idea, as the possibilities for this game are endless.

Of course, I had some other ideas for RealDolls, but for some reason the company that makes them refuses to entertain my ideas. For example, I think a doll that looks like the Virgin Mary would be quite neat and would sell quite well in the Middle East. A doll with a detachable football as a head would also be awesome, because I dont know about any of you, but after I finish having sex, I totally want to rip the girls head off and spike it while I scream SCORE SCORE TOUCHDOWN WOOOO!!! as I dance around my bedroom. I think the makers of the worlds most realistic sex doll underestimate the number of men who want to follow up sexxing an inanimate object with a end zone dance and boasts of kiss your immaculate conception GOODBYE!!!

OK I dont really want to spike the girls head but I wouldnt mind taking a shot at the Virgin Mary while resting a can of beer on her back.

An open letter to the drunk girl on Red Line run #906

by on July 20, 2003 @ 10:37 pm

I just need to thank you for momentarily changing the way I perceive this citys public transportation system. Long have I thought of it as an open forum for the citys poor and somewhat less than poor alike to turn an efficient mode of public transit into a part of my life that is convenient, yet utterly disgusting. There must be a thousand empty bags of Cheetos crammed in between the seats and the wall, yet it just wouldnt be public trans without them.

Your pure, unrestrained drunkenness undoubtedly made it impossible for you to clearly remember this train ride. It was crowded so you were standing, as were many of the passengers. Next to you was your boyfriend, a man with red hair, a goatee and clothes that may have been in style during his fraternity days in 1999. My apologies if I am being presumptuousif he wasnt your boyfriend then he was definitely grabbing your ass more than the average white male late night rider might.

Enough settingback to the topic at hand. You were quite drunk and would have been more comfortable sitting in a position where you could have simply passed out. You were standing, however, and for some reason your arms didnt seem to be functioning because you were propping yourself up by resting your face against the upright handbar.

Perhaps in your intoxicated state you thought it was a giant corn dog, because you were damn near licking the very bar that thousands of homeless people, commuters, chronic masturbaters, and ass-scratching scumbags grab hold of when the train lurches to a stop. The manner in which you was firmly committed to mouthing that bar almost convinced me that the palm sweat of half the city of Chicago must somehow make it delicious. Perhaps it has something to do with just the right combination of salts and spices from the countless fingers of people having their ghetto lunches of Cheetos and Doritos. For a moment, I perceived the train as a true monument to flavor, thanks to your revolting display of public drunkenness. Perhaps as an encore you should next try licking the train’s electrified “third rail!”

In the end I came to my senses and simply thought to myself Woah there drunky! The train hasnt arrived at White Castle just yet. For a moment there though, you really distorted my view of this towns beloved train system!


P.S. the top you were wearing looks like something the police might wave before an injured deer to distract it before they shoot it in the head. You should demote it from Friday night bar hopping top to dust rag.