How Bad We Are

The Ravens are 4-11, soon to be 4-12. Our season got so bad so fast that a Baltimore man decided to camp out on the roof of a bar until the Ravens won a game. His decision earned national acclaim, "the goof on the roof" became something of a local celebrity. He was certainly more popular than Brian Billick.

But today The Baltimore Sun reported the man on the roof, Ronald Stach, to be nearly as lame as the Ravens themselves. According to the mother of his child (and ex-wife), Stach owes nearly $45,000 in child support.

Perhaps Stach should get off the roof and join the Ravens. He'd probably fit right in.

Actually, ignore that last sentence. Making fun of the Ravens for their legal troubles is so 2004. They were respectable back then. Now they're slightly better than a high school junior varsity squad. And slightly worse than the Miami Dolphins.

Christmas Ads

It's holiday season, which represents a perfect time for Presidential candidates to continue upon their chosen path of campaigning: ignoring the issues. Luckily, nearly every candidate released a special Christmas advertisement. Like all other campaign advertisements, they are inane and useless, but two in particular struck me as scary. Hillary Clinton's was simply pathetic, while Mike Huckabee's was a bit too genuine not to be scary.

Here's Hillary's Ad

Please. Hillary, please. Stop trying to portray yourself as a caring, motherly figure. You're a cold bitch. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but you're trying to have your cake and eat it too. One day you're the strongman (woman) of the Democratic field, tougher on terrorism than those wimpy men, Obama and Edwards. But now you're just a kindly mother, looking for that one gift lying amidst the clutter?

And speaking of the gifts...could that ad have any more phoniness? Is it too hard to simply say "I'm Hillary Clinton and I'd like to take this opportunity to wish all of you a Merry Christmas/Happy Holiday Season"? Believe me, we've heard enough about universal health care, bringing the troops home (which you don't even want to do in the first place), and all the other issues you not so subtly tried to advance in this ad. Don't overdo it. Most Americans would rather get an iPod for Christmas, anyway.

After bashing Hillary's ad for its phoniness, I'm now going to take a moment to attack Huckabee for an ad that's the direct opposite. His Christmas ad showed America (Well, Iowa, since all other Americans are second-class citizens and don't deserve to choose their nominees) exactly who he is.

I sure as hell hope he doesn't win.

Here's Huckabee's Christmas ad

Before I criticize him too much, I would like to thank Huckabee for not being excessively politically correct. That's refreshing. What's not refreshing is that he's a religious nut.

At this time of year, sometimes it’s nice to pull aside from all of that and just remember that what really matters is the celebration of the birth of Christ and being with our family and friends

No, you Jesus-face, what matters is gifts and commercialization. Where have you been? This is also a tad explicit for my tastes. Merry Christmas is fine - "celebrate the birth of Christ" is not. Is he doing an advertisement or preaching? I doubt have the "Christians" I know who are getting gifts today could tell you about the birth of Christ.

The fact that he refers to this time as "Christmas season" shows who he is - a rural Arkansasan. And guess what? I hate those people. I'd rather have a Mormon.

Well, maybe not. Romney's a jackass.

RON PAUL FOR PRESIDENT.

Another one line paragraph.

And another.

Childhood Memories

So I was watching pornography and it reminded me of my first boner.

I was parading around the house, so happy at my bountiful hog. I hopped around and I yelled "MY WEE WEE, LOOK AT MY WEE WEE!!!"

To which my dad said:

"JIM! Either you start acting like the 16 year young man you are, or were kicking your ass out of the house!"

A BALTIMORE RAVENS CHRISTMAS

Here's a Ravens Christmas comic for all of you. Made it in like 5 minutes. Click on it to open the picture in a new window.

To Be Alone With Sufjan Stevens

I love Sufjan Stevens with a virulent passion. I really want to have his kids. But most of all, I want to be alone with him. If I could only have one thing in life, that would be it. Actually, I’d prefer to find a $20 bill on the ground, but outside of that, I want to be alone with Sufjan Stevens.

Funny enough, Stevens actually wrote a song about being alone with…me! I’m not kidding: "To Be Alone With You" is actually a song by the burgeoning artist. It may not be his most famous song or his best, but boy, it really turns me on.

I'd swim across Lake Michigan
I'd sell my shoes

Personally, this isn’t all that impressive to me. I mean, what good would a pair of shoes do if you are swimming across Lake Michigan? But it gets better.

I'd give my body to be back again
In the rest of the room

Oh Sufjan…I’d love your body.

To be alone with you
To be alone with you
To be alone with you
To be alone with you

Ok, I got the point after the second time you sung that. Just get in bed already.

You gave your body to the lonely
They took your clothes

I’d much rather give my body to you, Sufjan. And you can take my clothes, too.

You gave up a wife and a family
You gave your goals

Yeah, I did have a wife and a family. But then I realized, Sufjan, I want you to be both my wife and my family…you are my goals.

To be alone with me
To be alone with me
To be alone with me
You went up on a tree

Can you come up into my tree, Sufjan? Please?

To be alone with me you went up on the tree
I'll never know the man who loved me

Oh, wait, you’re talking about Jesus Christ. Never mind. Ignore this entire post. I'm not gay, either.

LOST MY PHONE! NEED CONTACTS!

Fuck Facebook! I have no fucking friends and no one ever requests me. All I ever get is invitations to groups from people who lost their phone. The infamous “I Need Phone Numbers Group” because for some reason everyone else has a fucking assload of cash and when they lose their phones can afford another goddamn $50,000 cell. Then they complain “OH NO MY FUCKING CONTACTS AREN’T ON MY NEW SHINY RICH ASS IPHONE (on a side note, blow me Apple Inc.), GIVE ME YOUR PHONE NUMBERS VIA FACEBOOK GROUP”. I get about 30 of these a day, and I only have 2 friends on Facebook. Which means everyone’s losing cell phones at an alarming rate.

Here’s my life, you anal douche! My phone gets stolen and I’m dirt ass poor. So I have to reactivate a phone my dad used is his childhood. This fucking monstrosity of a phone weighs about 40 pounds. If you drop it on a child, IT WILL KILL THEM! It also emits radioactive cancer causing discharge. I have five types of cell-phone induced ball cancer. Contacts are the least of my problems. My first problem is that I look like a jackass lugging this piece of shit in a wagon behind me when I leave the house. My second problem is that if I lose this fucking refrigerator phone, instead of getting another one I’m left with an even OLDER DAMN PHONE that explodes when it rains.

So don’t invite me to your groups anymore, just because it’s so hard to be you, without your contacts. Most of the time I’m not even really friends with you so I’ve dumbfounded you want my phone number. Just because you wipe your asses with iPhones and go through them like a fucking Night Elf Huntress goes through a horde of enemy Orcs (YAY WARCRAFT!), doesn’t mean you have to leave me to wallow in my shit life.

Fuck face.

This is an honest to God description that someone made for their “I’M HELPLESS WITHOUT YOUR PHONE NUMBER” groups.

“So after winning some champagne in a karaoke contest on a cruise in Alaska, I dropped my phone and it happened to slip right through the little crack between the floor and the elevator i was about to get on. Needless to say, after falling down seven floors, it is no longer usable.”

Cruise with an elevator? My cruises are fucking inner-tube rides in the Persian Gulf. And what paper thin delicate luxurious phone can fit through an elevator crack? If I dropped my phone in an elevator it would pull the elevator off its threads and the whole goddamn thing would force itself into the Earth’s core, setting off volcanoes all over the world. I don’t just have a phone, I have a device capable of destroying the entirety of human existence.

If I get another one of these invites I’m gonna give your sorry ass a big DECLINE button.

Oh yea, and Facebook creators, thanks for helping me make that threat I just made. If I didn’t have your “scary/ominous” “DECLINE BUTTON” as a tool for my threats, then who knows? I might finish this piece off with some masculinity. Can’t have that.

Not Horrible 2005

Me and Alex wrote these two things for our disgusting awful excuse for a website two years ago but never put it up because HTML coding took too long and took away from things that were more interesting like getting my asshole stapled.

It’s about the history of Thanksgiving, we both had input in it with each of us writing alternating paragraphs. Everything written by me will be indicated in italics, and anything written by Alex will be painfully unfunny.

In the 1600s, the devil-worshipping pilgrims sailed across the Atlantic in search for a place where they could quietly sacrifice their young without persecution from the Europeans. Religious freedom wasn't so prevalent, but luckily for the pilgrims, there was more than enough small pox to go around.

However, these were not completely evil people. While their descendents tried, and burned, young ladies on suspicion of being witches, the Pilgrims were perfectly normal people, who just happened to be the only whites in a vast area filled with trees, fish, and Natives. However, the Pilgrims were retarded, and needed help with basic things.

Where could they get their help? Why none other than Indians!? Oh yes, there were plenty of Indians to sacrifice to Satan. So this begun the start of mass killings of Indians. This is most likely where the favorite family tradition of abusing Indians on Thanksgiving came from.

However, the tradition was practiced earlier this year, by the Chicago White Sox. (NOTE: THIS WAS WRITTEN AFTER THE WHITE SOX WON THE WORLD SERIES IN 2005, YES IT’S THAT FUCKING OLD, IT WAS ALSO WRITTEN BEFORE HUMOR WAS INVENTED APPARENTLY) (Sorry, I can't resist a good baseball joke when I see one) Back on track, the mass killings of Indians were not without a cause. You see, God came down and directly told the Pilgrims that if he did not receive 100 Indians every week, he would be very mad. The Pilgrims used their power of imagination to think of what God would do if he were mad. The Pilgrims thought God would sleep, eat, pray, or work, since those were the only activities they knew.

Fearing that God might, heaven forbid, SLEEP, (something that the Astros seemed to do earlier this year when being swept by the White Sox!!!DAMN DOUBLE THE BASEBALL JOKE!) (NOTE: I’M A FUCKING DUMBASS) the pilgrims began to harvest the Indians and killed everyone in sight. This is most likely where the favorite family tradition of abusing Indians everyday came from.

But, the next day, the Pilgrims realized they had no food. They also had no way of getting it. For this, they would need the help of dead people. So they prayed...

A young pilgrim emerged from within all the stupidity, and thought, maybe all this praying wasn't going to help them get food, maybe God wants them to find the food on their own. This young pilgrim was killed moments later.

Obviously, God was trying to teach the Pilgrims a lesson. You do what I tell you to do, or you die. By scaring the shit of every sensible Pilgrim, God proceeded to part the waters of Cape Cod, revealing Michelangelo’s painting "The Last Supper" except the food was real, and Jesus wasn't.

Jim, having no idea what the hell message Alex's last paragraph was trying to convey, stuck needles into his skull.

Alex, seeing Jim with needles in his skull, proceded to his Thanksgiving Feast, thankful for the great miracle God had performed for the cyber community.

And that's why every Thanksgiving the souls of the damned raise from the dead and feast on the living.

This year, it is my prediction that the feasted upon human being will be...LARRY KING, what a douche.

And my prediction is of course, well, yea, Larry King.(lousy douchebag)

However, Larry King isn't all that dumb, he at least allowed himself to be on the same set as Jerry Seinfeld only two days before he dies. If there's one way to ensure you're going straight to hell, it's to be Jewish (Or at least once been), and to have one of the last acts of your life be a conversation with yet another Jew.

And that’s the story of why all Jews go to hell.

I mean Thanksgiving.

If you don't accept it, let's plan to meet up in hell, because you'll be there too.

Fucking terrible, right? Well if that wasn’t bad enough, we actually wrote one prior to that that we didn’t put up because it was so awful, it gave me cancer of the prostate.

For many years, Americans have given thanks in November, and it's not for being able to vote. Now, it's to remember an arcane event that happened nearly 400 years ago. Most Americans do not understand this event; they just know to eat the turkey. However, we do know the reason, and will impart to you the Story of Thanksgiving.

So whether you are a fan of the moist turkey, the delicious mashed potatoes, or the disgusting radioactive pile of shit, cranberry sauce (how the fuck are cranberries can-shaped), keep in mind your not eating food. Oh no my good friend, your eating a pack of lies. A PACK OF LIES!

The common theory taught in public schools is that the Pilgrims and the Indians worked together to create a better life for both cultures, and that they celebrated with a feast; Thanksgiving. However, there is a new theory out, only in Kansas, called Intelligent Slaughter. It suggests that the common theory of Thanksgiving has holes, and that it's a theory, not a fact, and students should be able to pick which one they prefer.

Oh. yes the Intelligent Slaughter...fuck, goddamnit, sorry, but that cranberry shit is so bad. It's so bad that this may accidently end up to be a rant about cranberry sauce instead of "accidently" being a rant about Mexicans as I orignaly planned.

Jim apologizes for his behavior. I don't care. If I was actually mad at him, I'd send him to Kansas. There, they learn that in reality, the Pilgrims were ordered by god to kill the Indians, because they were a threat to the establishment. The good Indians were allowed to eat leftovers of the Pilgrims. They were so thankful, they called it Thanksgiving. There's the story of a bad theory made short.

Though, we here at Brick-Bats (NOTE: THIS WAS THE NAME OF OUR SITE IT WAS ORIGINALLY TO BE POSTED ON) don't settle for the short story, we go all the way. We all know that Alex hadn't finished because he forgot to mention the Mexicans, and how they can't keep a job.

Ah yes, the Mexicans. Well, as all this was going on, the Pilgrims got lazy, and hired the Mexican immigrants to build a ship that would take the Pilgrims to heaven. The Mexicans built the ship. The pilgrims got in. They ended up in Massachusetts. Man, were they pissed.

But that was a story that shouldn't be told. And surely, Alex will be killed tomorrow for revealing the true secret of Thanksgiving. And I'll stay perfectly unharmed until a Mexican reads this site (in theory, I could live forever).

Is that because no Mexicans can read, or because no one will read the site?

Oh you sly devil you!

Wait, aren't we supposed to be talking about Thanksgiving.

Yes, we are

We are the definition of Asshole. Happy Thanksgiving TO ALL! Except you Mexicans. (I'm that confident)

Happy Thanksgiving to all except the Dallas Cowboys. When it's an American holiday, be patriotic, and root against America's team. It just makes sense.

(NOTE: I DON’T HATE MEXICANS ANYMORE, THAT WAS MORE OF A 2005 THING)

I HAD SEX!

What's better than me putting a story on my blog that I've told numerous times to many different people that was barely humorous in the first place? Who knows. I guess the only bad thing about it is I won't get to see the priceless reactions I receive from telling people face to face.

(sample reaction)
(upon finishing story)
Person Hearing Story: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! THAT WAS FUNNY!
Me: You actually liked it?
Person Hearing Story: Oh sorry, I was thinking about something funny I saw on Seinfeld last night. Your story was shit.

I love using screen-play dialog to represent conversations I've had in life. Some day I hope to piece a bunch of these together and make a Broadway play of my shitty life.

On to the story. It's a wonderful story of my love life.

I was in DisneyWorld with the family (don’t worry this doesn’t turn into some family incest love bullshit, this is legit). If you know Epcot, you know of the World Showcase, a vast land of many small towns all representing one country. They have a small Italy town, China, Japan, Norway, and so on. Well this story takes place in the romantic country of Disney’s Mini-Retarded Italian Clusterfuck (they call it Italy there).

The family was off somewhere leaving me without them. I don’t know exactly where they went, my guess was a wholesome family dinner. They left me there leashed to a light post with a bowl of trout heads.

None the less, I was alone. I went into a fantasy world of chocolate mountains and gummy bear people, when all my day dreaming stopped when I saw this very attractive woman!

She was oddly enough an Italian, for some reason visiting a dumbed-down schizo shit town of her home land. I don’t know if these people actually visit Disney versions of their homeland, or if the Disney Corp. just planted them there to fuck with all of us. I was in the U.K. and saw some Brits, and for reasons unknown they disappeared into a foggy mist when I tried to touch them. Good try Walt, you Nazi sympathizer asshole!

Describing her is hard. She was breathtaking. She had a body like a goddess, with stunning maroon/red/brownish hair flowing endlessly like the blood from a kitten when you stab it right in the fucking heart. I stared at her lovingly.

As I was looking at her, to my surprise she stared back at me too! Oh my God! Well, maybe I shouldn’t give myself TOO much credit. I was hopping around, throwing dildos at everyone as I screamed “I’m the dildo fairy!” She also wasn’t giving me the old “you’re attractive, I want you” stare, she was more giving me the classic “who in the fuck throws around dildos in the middle of Disney World” stare. But that’s beside the point. She was very attractive, and my vain and superficial dick ass self was in love.

The problem was I only got to look at her for 30 or so seconds. Which means I knew that with my completely unstable mental capacity, I wouldn’t remember her face later that night for further “exploring”. Sure enough, my fucking retarded dumbass couldn’t remember. I find that really fucking odd because I can never remember anyone who’s attractive and how they look. However, I see ugly dumb cunt Bette Midler’s face for about a second on accident and now she haunts my dreams every night. FUCK!

Easy come, easy go. Girls in Florida always seem a lot more attractive then up North. Shit, the hottest girl I saw up North had an extra arm and a foot for a face. I’ll never forget you, you little Italian bitch whore (why don’t I get girls?)