Hey everybody – metten here.  ”So is Mockable done or what?” The question has been asked here as well as by online friends and real life people.  I figured the least I could do is provide an answer for the people who have supported the site for the last 2.75 years.  The official answer is, I hope not.  I hope the site will be full of fresh and hilarious material very soon – please keep checking back periodically.  If that’s enough for you, feel free to stop reading here.  The remaining is full of useful information but is also bloggish and whiny – which I am told is unbecoming and not very fun to read.  My mom can be so fucking cruel sometimes.  Anywhoo…

If I can get this thing back on the tracks it will be me, a series of kickass weekly contributors and Friday guests. Of course, Jeff Kay can do whatever he wants because he owns the domain and pays the bills around here.  Realistically speaking, Jeff will probably only post here once or twice a year – but it’s a guaranteed good time when he gets a chance.  In addition to being an extremely funny and wickedly gifted writer, the man has a natural ability to attract web traffic.  Despite being dormant for months, despite being hijacked more than once by the Russian porn mafia and despite the fact that he hasn’t posted anything here for well over a year – this dumb little site still sees a ridiculous amount of traffic because of Jeff Kay.  Thousands of people have traveled to this site to defend Southern California, figure out what to do after falling down the stairs and ponder why nearly everyone who backs into parking spaces is an asshole. Frankly, mockable.org became immediately shittier when I restarted it alone nine months after Jeff and I originally pulled the plug.  Feel free to read through that post and the comments to learn why we originally stopped posting.

Nowadays, Jeff is busy running his popular and hilarious site, working to promote his book and putting together a new non-fictionish effort.  It’s true that the guy has become one of my best friends. It’s also true that he has done more than any other 50 people combined to advance my aspirations to become a real writer someday.  He has hosted my writing at the surf report, asked me to do this site with him, pitched an idea for a book that we planned to write together and always found time to listen to me cry like a bitch.  I owe the guy a lot, but I also get really pissed at him on occasion.  More on that later.

Even with Jeff Kay out of the picture, mockable.org has managed to put together a team of contributors that routinely kick the shit out of the easy jokes and lazy top ten lists that make up much of the internet these days.  Caveboy always puts together a solid effort to welcome you back to work on Monday. Tammie continues to be an amazing and hilarious writer (plus she’s physically attractive – but that’s not supposed to count) who’s willing to continue hanging out on Thursdays.

As far as Wednesday is concerned, I recently talked to Lakr and he claims that he is back and down to mock.  Lakr is like that irresponsible guy at work who rarely shows up (and when he does show up he’s often drunk and disruptive) who manages to keep his job because when he is at his best, the work product is so amazing that it has no equal.  Similar to my own whiny and egotistical story that is to follow – Lakr has had to deal with some heavy personal stuff and has also made some strategic decisions that have interfered with his ability to become a truly amazing writer and the third funniest man on the planet (after Brad  Neely and Joshua Allen, of course).  As a result of said amazingness, you’ll either get nothing or brilliance on Wednesdays.

The rest will fall to me. I would like nothing more than to wake up every morning and pound out an update for the handful of people who seem to like what I do.  Other writing projects include a completed novel that I’d like to release to the world someday,  about a hundred pages of another book I’d like to finish and a kickass (if I don’t say so myself) idea for a third novel.  I’ve also written a handful of screenplays and a bible for an animated television show. Writing and making other stuff that might entertain people remains my #1 ambition in life.   Sadly, it doesn’t look like I am going to get a shot at doing any of those things in exchange for money anytime soon.

Honestly, I am in a lot of trouble at the moment. At the end of August 2011,  I selfishly left my reltively high-paying job for the selfish reason that if I did it much longer I was going to have a heart attack.  I tried to start a little company and make a living while doing some good in the world.  It worked really well for a while – until I made at least one bad decision.  Then I made a series of worse decisions in an effort to counteract the original bad decision. Because of these decisions (and a few other factors), I have been named as defendent in a lawsuit, both in my personal and professional capacity.  There is also a very real possibility of even worse things to come.  Sadly, that’s really all I can say on the subject.  If you want to know more you can email me or send me a private message on facebook.

In an effort to combat this,  I need to raise money. My family, my business and perhaps even my freedom rely on my ability to put together the necessary funds. In response to this critical need,  I did what all educated and rational people do.  I created a page to sell tshirts with a giant eff word printed across the front of it.  Please take a look and consider helping me out. If profanity-laced tshirts are not your thing, there are plenty of other ways to help out:

For example, you could buy some of my books. http://www.amazon.com/shops/A2RM88RWS1303Z

Or you could Loan me money – if you want to take a look at the investment, it is real and it is lucrative. There is some security offered, the exposure period is short, the return is substantial and I will also offer an equity position to the right person.  So if you, your rich uncle, your bookie, your favorite private lender or anyone else you know might want to take a look, please let me know.  My pending demise is your gain!

Or you could hire me.  I have a bunch of degrees, diverse experience and I once saw a blimp in real life! (*credit Larry Burns with the blimp joke, it just seemed to fit*) We don’t really have any geographical ties although we do like the Midwest and our extended families are here.  Regardless, if you or someone you know wants to pay me to do something in exchange for money feel free to let me know – especially if you are a literary agent who is willing to actually read something I wrote.

The final option is the most effective as well as my least favorite…just give me free money - this is the fastest and easiest way to help me out.  You get nothing in exchange, but every $175 is another hour that I have at least some legal representation.

So is mockable finished? I dunno.  I hope not.  At this point there’s a good chance that I am finished, so I have no clue about mockable.  Please take a second and let us know in the comments if you have an opinion on the matter.  Thanks for reading and I appreciate any and all feedback or assistance I can get.  Thanks very much for everything.

In the interest of being green, I am recycling some old news.

Some people were born with greatness coursing through their veins, destined to be someone remembered for generations. Then in times of adversity, some people have greatness thrust upon them, as they rise up to the challenge and untapped traits of heroism emerge.

And sadly, there are occasions when people in leadership must courageously reach forth to grab the brass ring of greatness on behalf of others, but instead they fall face first into a rescue boat. Such is the tale of the internationally recognized coward, Francesco Schettino, Captain of the luxury liner Costa Concordia.

We all know the story. Captain Schettino led his ship a little too close to the rocks, where it was subsequently gouged and capsized. And in lieu of going down with his ship, the good Captain “tripped” into a rescue boat (as did other members of his commanding crew…I guess Italians are better known for loafers than topsiders) and left 17 passengers to drown on his sinking ship. Talk about chicken parmagiana…(ba-da-ching!!)

Which is surprising, because when doing some research on the subject, I came across some old video of Public Service Announcements that Captain Schettino did for a small Italian TV station. Ironically, the Captain was dispensing emergency safety tips that people should follow given a few hypothetical disaster situations.

With the help of my friend Giuseppe, I was able to translate and Americanize these PSA’s for the good of the citizens of the United States.  Here is a transcript of the PSA’s, which I transcribed in a terrible Italian accent for added realism. Enjoy and be safe!! 

EMERGENCY SAFETY TIPS FROM CAPTAIN FRANCESO SCHETTINO 

PSA#1:

Saluti! I’m Fransceso Schettino of-a the Italian navy with-a an importante safety tip for-a you. If-a you evah in-a hospitale, and-a disgruntled former employee come in-a with an automatic weapon and starts-a shooting up-a the place, here-a what you should do. You find-a what floor-a the nursery is-a on, and then run-a to the nursery. Take-a all-a of the newborns, stack-a them all-a up around you, and-a you make-a baby fort. Cry and make-a the mewling baby noises too, so-a no one knows-a you inside-a the baby fort until-a the shooting is-a over.

Buona fortuna!!!
PSA#2:
Saluti! I’m Fransceso Schettino of-a the Italian navy with-a an importante safety tip for-a you.  If-a you evah at a Furr’s Cafeteria in-a Florida when-a they issue-a hurricane warning, and-a you automobile won’t-a start, here’s-a what you do.

You find-a the weakest, most-a frail old lady a-sitting in-a powered wheelchair, and-a you throw her on-a the floor, then-a you steal-a the wheelchair. Now-a remembre, it’s-a most important to find-a the weakest, frailest one, because-a they are-a the least likely to-a maybe hurt you. You might-a want to kick-a her in-a the hip-a few times until it-a breaks to make-a sure she don’t-a come after you.

After you steal-a the wheelchair, you drive it to-a the parking lot, and-a you use-a the battery from it to start-a you car. After you start-a the car, you take-a the battery from-a the wheelchair, and-a you put it in-a you trunk. You do this-a for two reasons: Uno- you might-a need the battery again to start-a you car, and Due- the old-a lady with-a the broken hip, she can’t-a chase after you.

Buona fortuna!!!

PSA#3:

Saluti! I’m Fransceso Schettino of-a the Italian navy with-a an importante safety tip for-a you. If-a you evah in-a the midwest at-a big shopping mall, and there’s-a tora-nado warning, heres-a what you do. Wait until-a everybody get-a inside-a the storm shelter. Then-a you knock on-a the door, and-a say “hey…I was just-a outside, and-a the tora-nado, she went-a back up in-a the clouds.”

Then when-a everybody walks out-a the storm shelter, you run-a inside, and lock-a the door-a behind you. Then you take-a all-a the blankets, and-a make-a nice pallet to take-a nap. Use-a the cotton balls from-a the first aid kit, to-a stuff inside-a you ears to drown out-a all-a the screaming, and-a crying, and-a begging, and-a beating on-a the door. And if there is-a like effa-4 type destructione, you gotta-a plenty of bottled water to take-a towel bath before-a they dig-a you out.

Buona fortuna!!!

+++

I hope you enjoyed reading these Italian PSA translations as much as I enjoyed translating them for you.

See you next time!!  XO-LF

There's a new store in town.
They sell clothing and that's kind of nice. We haven't had a clothing store in our town for a while now and I've been forced to travel if I've needed to buy something.
While it's true that I hate shopping, I do, on occasion, get the urge to buy something pretty. I want to have something to wear if I ever win the Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes.  Shut up! It could happen!

I keep my pretty outfit hanging by the door so if they come to my house and I see it's them,I have time to change into my pretty outfit. Imagine how disappointed my stalkers would be if they saw me on TV looking like a hag in a feed sack? Anyway, I had the urge to go look in the new store and see if there was anything pretty that I could buy.

I walked into the store and browsed for a few minutes, trying to shake off that whole creeped out feeling I get in clothing stores. I know those stick figure girls that work there are not pale because they're vampires but I still wonder if they're going to attack me while I'm trapped in the dressing room and feed on me. Maybe that's just me but it COULD happen...

I spotted a clearance rack and made a beeline to it,finding a cute little summer dress to try on within seconds. That's the kind of shopping I like. Fast, quick and easy. So I headed to the dressing room and smeared garlic paste on the door,(I'm paranoid, so what?)Then I put on the dress. I turned to look at myself in the mirror and almost screamed out loud. I looked like a sumo wrestler wearing a Hefty garbage bag. That's no shit either. It was just plain old scary.
I took the dress off, put my clothes back on and left the store as quickly as possible.

As I stood outside on the sidewalk, feeling disgusted and annoyed, I noticed some ladies. They were all wearing spandex, walking quickly past me toward a place called "Curves". Out of curiosity I followed them, mainly because they could wear spandex and get away with it. There had to be some secret to this miracle and I was going to discover it.

I walked into this "Curves" place and there were roughly five or six old ladies swaying back and forth to loud latino music. One of the spandex women walked over to me and told me it was the senior citizen Zumba class, but the next regular class would begin in ten minutes. I decided to watch, mainly out of curiosity, and because I'd tried this Zumba stuff before. Let's just say it didn't work out for me. I'm not coordinated and Zumba might as well stand for "Zealously Undulating My Big Ass" because that's about all I can do with it. So I figured that if the senior citizen class wasn't terribly complicated maybe I could just take that class. I mean, all I'd seen them do so far was sway back and forth to the music. Even I could manage to do that.
Oddly enough, they were all dressed alike, in white stretch pants with elastic waistbands. They all had the same kind of hair style too. As they swayed and stretched their arms, moving like they were riding invisible ponies, all I could picture was a group of Oompa Loompas doing Zumba. Substitute the green hair for blue hair and it was pretty damn close. Then I began singing the Oompa Loompa song in my head while watching them and I burst out laughing. I just couldn't help myself. It was hilarious and I was powerless to stop.
Everyone in the building was staring at me but I didn't care! I was waiting for Gene Wilder to step out of the back room and clap his hands, telling the Oompa Loompas it was time to get back to work, but it didn't happen. Instead, several of the spandex women asked me to leave.  So I left, still laughing.

I suppose this means I will not be welcomed to this "Curves" place anytime soon. Meh...I'm ok with that. I can't do any of those moves anyway. Besides, Swedish dancing is way more fun and I know how to do that.  Maracas?
Maracas,schmaracas. They got nothing on an accordion. As I'm concerned Zumba can suck it!
You haven't really lived until you've danced the polka to an Abba song played on the accordion, complete with the accompanying fiddles and guitars.

I'd rather be a dancing queen than an Oompa Loompa any day.

As for the pretty dress? I said to hell with it. Instead I'm thinking a Viking look might work or maybe a set of bunny footed pajamas, like the kind in the movie "The Christmas Story". Both are a much better representation of my personality than a pretty dress.

Dontcha think???

Okay kids, stand here and face the wall. I'm gonna go post stuff on the internet telling everyone how hard it is to deal with you.

Here’s the same disclaimer I always provide when I say something like this – This is not a political argument and I don’t care about your politics. Take them to some other site.  I can support what I say here (except for things that are clearly my opinion) as a verifiable fact and I have no opinion at all on specific politicians and no public opinion on any particular political philosophy. So there. (disclaimer #1)

There are almost no real (i.e scholarly, peer-reviewed, respected) supply-side economists left.  In fact, if I hadn’t painted myself into a corner by putting that disclaimer in the previous paragraph, I would be comfortable saying that there are none.  I believe that the reason for this is that their theories don’t work from an academic perspective.  That and the fact that they have also been debunked over and over and over again throughout the course of several generations from a literal perspective.

Supply-side economics, cold fusion and that sixteen foot bong I tried to make one summer belong in the same category – good ideas when you’re stoned and bullshitting with your buddies…or hosting a cable news channel…but generally ineffective in practice nonetheless.  I only told you this because I wanted you to know that I know exactly how full of shit I am as I make this supply-side argument about teachers. (disclaimer #2)

I am fully prepared for the teacher contingent to descend upon me with great force and furious anger after I say this, but I really think it needs to be said. Before I do, let me say that I love teachers.  Some of my best friends are teachers (maybe not after this)…there’s even a small percentage of my best friends that are black teachers.  So I obviously can’t be a racist because some of my best friends are black.  I also can’t be a pedagogist (probably not the most accurate word, but it’s the best I could do other than “teacher-hater”) because some of my best friends are teachers (disclaimer #3).  And since I have best friends who are black teachers, I am getting mainlined to heaven…I am pretty sure I won’t even have to stop at St. Peter – I’ll just get whisked to the front of the line like the Make a Wish kids at Disney World.

Having said that, teachers are one of the groups that annoy the shit out of me on facebook and google+ and in my email box on a regular basis.  There is a veritable stock ticker of pro-teacher quotes running through my life:

• If a doctor, lawyer, or dentist had 40 people in his office at one time, all of whom had different needs, and some of whom didn’t want to be there and were causing trouble, and the doctor, lawyer, or dentist, without assistance, had to treat them all with professional excellence for nine months, then he might have some conception of the classroom teacher’s job.  ~Donald D. Quinn
• Modern cynics and skeptics… see no harm in paying those to whom they entrust the minds of their children a smaller wage than is paid to those to whom they entrust the care of their plumbing.  ~John F. Kennedy
• A good teacher is like a candle – it consumes itself to light the way for others.  ~Author Unknown
  

Okay, we get it…you are selfless and dedicated to your craft, you work hundreds of hours unpaid every year, you buy school supplies with your own money, you are woefully underpaid, you are forced to endure politicians who hate you and apathetic parents who expect you to raise their kids. Despite all the hardships, you somehow soldier on because you are selfless heroes and teaching is your passion.  You are so selfless and dedicated that you would starve to death while teaching for free – you love being an educator that much. I promise, I really, really get it…because you won’t shut up about it.

Just for a simple comparison, let’s look at coal miners.  Now, maybe it’s because I don’t live in a coal-rich territory, or maybe it’s because I am not friends with enough coal miners on facebook – but coal miners have been getting screwed for over a century.  Miserably low pay or getting paid in company store credit rather than money, child labor,  hearing loss, black lung and extremely painful death that might manifest itself in a hundred different ways has always been part of a coal miner’s life.  Despite this, other than a relatively small public outcry after 25 miners died in the 2010 Massey Energy mine explosion, I have not seen one single piece of propaganda telling me that I should thank a coal miner for making my life what it is today – and frankly, the technological advances that American society have seen over the past 100 years were made possible in large part because science had access to cheap energy.  I understand that there are no scientists without teachers – but Joe the Coal Miner did way more to advance my knowledge and available skill sets than Larry Ireland (my high school government teacher) ever did.

Again I promise, I really am especially grateful for every teacher’s contribution to society and I genuinely believe that they are underpaid and deserve much more than they get (disclaimer #4) – but to quote Mr. Pink – “It would seem to me that waitresses [or teachers in this case] are one of the many groups the government fucks in the ass on a regular basis. Look, if you ask me to sign something that says the government shouldn’t do that, I’ll sign it, put it to a vote, I’ll vote for it, but what I won’t do is play ball.”

Seriously, what do you want me to do?  Why are you quoting some guy I have never heard of named Louis A. Berman at me?  How should I interpret this stuff? Do you want me to pay more property taxes in the hope that it trickles down to the teachers (don’t forget that we’ve established that the supply-side thing doesn’t work)?  Do you want me to donate money to the teacher’s unions?  Do you want me to write to a governor in a state that I am not registered to vote in and call him a dick? I seriously want to know.  Maybe I should email you and tell you that I appreciate you more often? Maybe this one of these “awareness” things?  Okay, I am aware already.

The truth is that teachers are paid a living wage. Most teachers would, in fact, quit teaching and find work in another industry before they starved or defaulted on their mortgages.  Nearly all of them would do something else before they starved to death trying to get my kid to understand the difference between effect and affect.  I believe that they deserve a lot more and I believe that our values as a society are misaligned (disclaimer #5).  I simply can’t control the fact that some jagoff will pay thousands every year to watch Tom Brady throw a football while there is no television channel to watch great teachers teach.  There is no such channel because watching great teachers teach does not sell beer.  So there you go.  Teachers are heroes that are abused by American society, but they are annoying self-aggrandizing heroes and I wish they would knock it off.

The truth is, just like in Higglytown, this world is lousy with heroes – defined here as people who have dedicated their lives to get as proficient as they can at something in order to advance society (at least as a secondary or tertiary goal).  I honestly believe that I am capable of teaching my children what they need to know in order to succeed in this world.  I also believe that I know how to build my own retaining wall or cook my own steak to the proper temperature.  Despite this, I prefer the way that the system currently works – I want a professional teacher to teach my children because they are better at it than me.  I want a licensed and insured contractor to build my retaining wall for the same reason…and if I am going to spend a substantial chunk of change on a steak, I want it cooked by a professional who has total control over every possible variable that might present itself while preparing said steak.  That’s right folks…I did all that yammering about teachers and coal miners and supply-side economists so I could tell you about steak…tomorrow.  In the meantime, feel free to take as many swings at my nuts as you feel are appropriate.

Hey everybody.  This isn’t going to be an attempt at comedy so much as a general update on the existence of metten.  I hope I’ll get an hour or so to write tonight because I have a mock half done, but I’ve been busy and shit.

I put in notice at my job at the beginning of this month and it felt really good.  It is not hyperbole when I say that the place was killing me.  I am fatter than I’ve ever been and I am relying too much on the old crutches that I use when the stress is turned up to 11. I always get the job done without complaint, but the stress takes its toll in other ways.  Someone close to me sneered when I told him this and he responded that if I wasn’t able to separate the job from the person, I probably didn’t deserve to have the job in the first place. Man up, grow a set, etc…

While the way that it was said was designed to bust my balls, it is most decidedly true.  I took an extremely high stress job extremely seriously…and personally…and it was going to give me a heart attack at age 35. So I quit.  The problem is that I was making close to six figures…and in two weeks and two days that will be gone.  At least the economy is in good shape…I’m sure the job market is pretty strong too.

Last year I filled out the paperwork and started a small business. Then bought a little restaurant in a small town that’s about 100 miles east of Kansas City.  I spent my youth working in restaurants and I know what I am doing, but I haven’t had any time to invest in it.  The place has tremendous income potential, but it has a slow money leak at the moment due to neglect.  Hopefully leaving my job will give me some time to devote to turning the place around.  Unfortunately, that will take some investment (see the second to last sentence in the previous paragraph).

I am also in the process of buying a second commercial property and setting up a new restaurant and convenience store.  I also have one additional project in the works that I am too scared to talk about…but if it gets funded things are going to be pretty cool for my little business.  It’s not going to replace the lost income, but it will cross a few things of my lifelong to-do list.

Speaking of the lifelong to-do list – I am proud to tell you guys that the creative endeavors that I was forced to abandon in order to do my soul-sucking job have started to see new life. First, my old band is slowly beginning to rehearse together every once in a while.  We’ll never win a Grammy, but it feels good to play music again.  I’d give you the link to the album we released ten years ago, but I don’t think it’s for sale any more.

Further, I have recently gotten a little bit of voice work (that I am sure you will hear about in the coming months) and I have pulled my “novel” off the shelf and am working on it again. The current version of the book took me several years to write and I am fiercely proud of it.  Most people that have read it have returned with positive reviews and minor suggestions here and there, but there are at least three people who never finished it…or it was so bad they couldn’t bring themselves to comment on it.  If you are one of those people – fuck you.  Especially if you are one of the people that asked me if you could read it.  I mean aggressively and angrily, fuck you – all joking aside, I am seriously pissed at these people.  Honestly, can you think of a bigger insult than to have someone agree to be an early reader of a guy’s first novel (or worse to beg to read it) and then not bother to ever speak about it again…or even give an explanation why?  I’d rather be hit in the face with a shovel. I mean, if it sucks, or I suck, I need to know about it…that’s the bad side about being an early reader, you shitheads.

If an author chooses you as an early reader, there are all sorts of positives:  first, you get to see the book before anyone else.  Also, the author clearly feels that you would be a good judge as to the quality or marketability of the work.  If you’re picked as an early reader, you should be proud.  The downside is that if the book is no good, it is your responsibility to let the author know in some gentle way.  If you never even finish it, you are an asshole of the highest order.  I am seething just thinking about these people.  Fuckers.  I want to fight them…and I might if I ever see them.

Anyway, Smoking Fish read it (most of it anyway), liked it and agreed to publish it.  All I have to do is get off my fat ass and finish the last two rewrites.  It was supposed to come out in time for the holiday season, but I am not entirely sure if I’ll make it. Maybe it would be a better Martin Luther King, Jr. Day present.

Finally, now that I am no longer a public servant, I am going to take another crack at standup.  I have done it, and I have never bombed or died or anything – but no one has ever pulled me aside and offered me a sitcom or anything either.  I have studied the craft and know what I am doing, but it has always been a matter of taking the time to make the bits great.  Hopefully my new found unemployment will act as a catalyst to action.

To sum up, I am at a crossroads in life.  A very cliche-ey crossroads, in fact.  I have officially left my relatively high-paying job that made me miserable in order to pursue the things that make me less miserable.   If I wish to succeed, I am going to need your help.  I know you don’t owe me or anything, but I sure could use a hand.  If I have something out and you have money – please buy it.  If you have a venue, please book me.  If you need copy written, please hire me.  If you need voice work done – please hire me.  If you are or you know a literary agent or publisher who works in the stuff I write, please sign me. If you are one of the people that agreed (or begged) to read an early copy of my book and then didn’t respond with comments, please blow me.

I have three daughters.
THREE.
That’s probably more than anyone should be subjected to at any one time.
But you know…when you like to molest your hot husband constantly, you’re going to end up with babies. It’s just going to happen. Especially if you’re as fertile as Kate Gosselin and Nadya Suleman combined, WITHOUT the fertility drugs.

It’s not that I don’t love and adore my daughters. They are precious, precious little angels….
And they are terrifying.
Seriously.
They can be mean and they make me afraid.

For years I wondered if I had done something wrong. You know…I wondered if telling them we were really aliens had somehow tainted them. Or if cutting their hair in bowl cuts and dressing them alike had driven them over the edge.
I was seriously concerned that I’d managed to raise three beautiful psychopaths.

But then I began to watch more TV and spend more time listening to the entire culture of young women, ages 12-30.

They’re ALL evil and scary.

They strut around whipping their heads in a frenzy, proclaiming they’ll “kick some bitch’s ass”. And that’s just the ones who are still in middle school.

Damn.

The ones in high school go so far as to actually fight, clawing at each other with their fake nails and pulling their nose rings out in preparation for the “skanky bitch takedown.”
They punch and kick and try to rip the fake tanner off their faces and cleavage. It reminds me of two drag queens fighting over the same ass pads.
It’s amazing to listen to these girls talk about their ass kicking abilities. To hear them talk you’d think they were the special forces of girls gone wild.
Not only do they talk shit, they dress like they live in a Russian whore house.

Apparently you do your best ass kicking in slutty garb.

Now I’m not saying that ALL of the girls in this age group are bad ass. There are some who aren’t, like the Amish and the Mormons and the mentally challenged. They are in a different group entirely and probably don’t even know who Snooki is.
But the rest of them…they are a force to be reckoned with.

I believe we should recruit the meanest drama queens from every high school and send them to Afghanistan.
Dress them all in Wet Seal and Hollister, adorning them with razor sharp nose, mouth, eyebrow and belly piercing jewlery.
Let’s plant nail files in their big hair to repair broken nails,if necessary, and stab a dude in his junk, should the lacquered claws on their hands fail to inflict pain.
This group of special forces would put Buffy the Vampire slayer to shame.
Hype them all up on Red Bull and tell them the Taliban compound is full of girls who made out with their boyfriends and it’ll be ON.
Umm…I guess we’d have to tell them the girls are disguised as dudes with beards in long dresses but that’d be ok.

Some Taliban members heads would explode from the shrieks of the girls who have to make a speech before they kick your ass. You know, to explain how you’re a bitch and a whore and you shoulda stayed away from their man, complete with the head jerking motion.

The girls who take action immediately would be all over those Taliban dudes in a frenzy of sharp nails with Hello Kitty painted on the tips. The smell of hairspray and self tanner would make them weak. The girls would strike, punctuating each smack with “BITCH!”. As the Taliban laying dying, their last vision would be of the girls walking away, their pink asses proclaiming “Cheerleader” and “Hottie” written in bold glittery letters.

I’m not really certain why our government hasn’t already thought of this brilliant idea but I’m guessing it’s because they don’t get on Facebook or watch MTV. Reality shows are a great source of information on this group, as well as Maury, but this wealth of information seems to escape the military recruiters.

Ahhh…well.

Of course there is a catch.
You need to make sure to get these priceless weapons before they mature enough to realize how pathetic they are. That drains all the anger and confidence right outta their little drama filled hearts.
When they begin to realize that flashing their titties and whining like sirens will get them nowhere in life and they’re digging for loose change to buy a pack of smokes, they become calmer.
They take out their nose ring and throw out their slut clothes.
They get jobs or go to college and you can speak to them without fear.

It happened to a couple of mine and now they’re not nearly as scary as they used to be.
Or maybe the Zoloft helps me to not be afraid anymore.
Who knows?

Even if that is the case, as long at the Taliban isn’t on Zoloft we could wipe them out with our army of Barbies.

Or we could just send the female cast of Jersey Shore…

God I’m smart.

“Son, stop beating your mother with the American flag!!”

“I wasn’t hitting her with the flag part! I was hitting her with the stick part!”

“Okay, you can stay in the country, but you’re still in trouble.”

“Oh, okay.” – An argument I had with my son earlier today.

I was watching my kids watch Disney’s Peter Pan last night and was wishing that they hadn’t put all of that Indian stuff in the film when, from the corner of my eye, I saw something shoot across the hallway right outside of the door. It was one of those deals where your subconscious was positive that it saw something, but your brain was trying to convince it otherwise. Then I saw it again and my brain knew that the argument was over – there was something with wings in the house. I stuck my head out the door long enough to try and figure out what it was.

I can’t find it, but back in the early days of this site, you might remember my battle against the bird that was stuck in the fireplace…I handled that one all wrong and it was a full day of me being an idiot. I was no longer scared because the fireplace incident had completely desensitized me…I was a gristled and battle-hardened soldier and I wasn’t taking any shit this time…except this time it was a fuckin’ bat. I was creeped out all over again. The best solution that I could think of for a while was to close the freakin’ door and to hang out while my kids listened to a terribly racist song that I think was titled, “What Makes the Red Man Red?” I wish somebody would take charge and stop them from watching shit like that…no, actually, no I don’t. I want them to be exposed to these things and educate them as it’s happening because banning shit has never worked.

So I finally worked up the courage to peek my head out the door and see that the bat was taking a break. I took the opportunity to run out there like a frightened little girl and throw the balcony door open in the hope that he would fly out. After the movie was over, I picked up the girl and headed for the door to take her to bed. I wished for a hand mirror so that I could check the hallway without exposing my eyeballs to liability. The bat was nowhere to be seen, so I gingerly put her to bed. A few minutes later, her older brother was also in a bat-free bed. I figured the thing must’ve flown out the door after all. I went downstairs and started looking at pictures and goofy videos on the internet and checking various in-boxes. Shortly after that, I saw a shadow in my peripheral. Then it went away. Then it came back. Then it went away. I was hiding behind my typing pillow (yeah, I have a typing pillow, what of it?) when I finally got the courage to look at it. He knew exactly where I was and was intentionally turning around before I got too freaked out. Aside from the fact that I felt radar-violated, it was kind of cool.

He was all like, “Man, I’m sorry to bug you while you’re layin’ there in your drawers with all them holes in ‘em, lookin’ at pictures of people with their clothes off, but I’m stuck in this freakin’ house and I can’t find the goddamn door. Can I get a little help?” Bats are actually pretty cool. He was flying all over the house and I couldn’t hear a sound…he was all stealth and shit. So anyway, I waited until he was in the living room and then I threw the front door open and waddled back to the computer and hoped for the best. As is often the case, I fell asleep with my hands on the keyboard and woke up in the middle of the night. My bat buddy seemed to have taken off as I slept. I’ll know for sure when my wife wakes me up screaming bloody murder tonight…

Vulva: Good evening and thanks for watching the WTF evening news.  I’m Vulva Sweat filling in for Areola Brown and these are our top stories.

Suri Cruise has taken a shit.  At a press conference today the proud parents Tom and Katie Cruise indicate that this could possibly be the most important shit ever taken.  The couple went on to say that the shit was brown in color and appeared to be very intelligent.

When asked about the odor Mr. Cruise replied that there was no distinctive smell other than a brief hint of jasmine and roses.  Mrs. Cruise agreed with her husband adding “We couldn’t be more proud, this is some special shit!”

Mr. Cruise ended the press conference by saying “I know shit, so take my word this shit will be famous one day.”

In our next story, Nicole “Snooki” Polizzi was arrested at Home Depot earlier today.  It seems Ms. Polizzi had become belligerent and somewhat violent in the lawn and garden section of the store when female shoppers attempted to purchase any yard tool with a long wooden handle.  According to eyewitnesses male shoppers were not accosted, but any woman attempting to get a shovel or hoe off the rack was attacked.  Store spokesperson, Woody Nailer, stated the incident lasted for almost 30 minutes.  Finally police used an 8 foot 6 x 6 to lure her away from the yard tools into the back of a police paddy wagon and she was taken to jail.  Her agent could not be reached for comment.

Stay with us, after the break we are going live to downtown Los Angeles and a report on how Angelinos are staying cool in this record setting heat wave.

Vulva: Welcome back, we are now going live to JaWanna Phuc in downtown LA.  So JaWanna how are the folks coping with the blistering temperatures?

JaWanna Phuc: Well Vulva it’s not easy.  Wait a minute Vulva there seems to be some commotion at the end of the block.  Quick get the camera on this.  It appears that a helicopter, wait what’s that, is that something hanging underneath?  Yes, yes it is!  Vulva you won’t believe this, a helicopter is flying over head with Jennifer Lopez hanging from a cable underneath.  What are they doing?  Wait they’re gaining altitude.  There’s a shadow growing, it’s getting bigger.  Vulva the helicopter has positioned Jennifer Lopez’s ass between the sun and LA and has cast a shadow over the entire city.  It’s unbelievable!  This is JaWanna Phuc reporting live from downtown LA, back to you Vulva.

Vulva:  Thank you JaWanna for that live report.

Today in our nation’s capitol unconfirmed sources reported that the battle of the budget is nearing a conclusion.  According to our source Democrats and Republicans met on Capitol Hill and each side admitted behaving like a horse’s ass and that the well being of the nation took precedent over posturing and looking good on camera.  The President could not be reached for comment because upon hearing the news the President shit a brick and had to be rushed to Bethesda Naval Hospital for treatment.

And now for sports with Andy Queef

Andy: Thanks Vulva

In sports news LeBron James has scheduled a two hour press conference that will be televised live on ESPN.  Unconfirmed reports indicate he is going to announce that he still doesn’t have a championship ring.

In a complete reversal of previous policies Major League Baseball has dropped the ban on performance enhancing drugs and gambling.  Players will now be allowed to use any drug available.  In conjunction with lifting of the drug ban, gambling will now be allowed at all major league and minor league parks.  Patrons will be able to place wagers on a variety of things other than the outcome of the game.  A few examples of “side” bets available,

Will the catcher take a foul tip to the nut sack. Odds 67 – 1

How many hit batters correct wager pays 22 – 1

How many times will the pitcher scratch his scrotum 99 – 1

Baseball commissioner Lawrence “Stitch” Feigenbeagle released the following statement.

“In the interest of the fans who are tired of watching pitching duels and 1- 0 games we thought by allowing performance enhancing drugs and gambling baseball could become more exciting for the fans and help those teams that suck really bad to sell a few more tickets.”

In the game between the Yankee’s and Red Sox Derek Jeter was called out on strikes, when he stepped into the batters box before the first pitch was thrown.  Home plate umpire William “Willy” Sticker said after the game “It was really hot and there were already two out in the bottom of the ninth.  I know the Yankees had bases loaded, but I had sweat running down the crack of my ass and I needed a beer.”  Under Major League rules the call is not reviewable.

And in NFL news, the problem of helmet to helmet contact may have been solved.  The NFL announced today that researchers at Slippery Rock University have perfected a system to determine if the contact is too violent.  It seems a device similar to what activates the airbag in your car has been fitted into a player’s helmet.  In the event of helmet to helmet contact that exceeds the limit for the unit a dye bomb will go off in the offender’s helmet.  Game officials will no longer have to make a judgment call as to whether or not the hit was intentional.

Vulva:  Stay tuned, when we come back I. P. Rainwater will give us the five day forecast.

Vulva:  Welcome back.  Now here’s I.P. with the weather

I. P.:  It’s hot, really hot.  Back to you Vulva

Vulva:  Thanks I. P.

Well that wraps up the 6 o’clock edition of WTF news.  Be sure to tune at 11 for our story on married couple sex Fact or Fiction.

For WTF news I’m Vulva Sweat, see you at 11.

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