ROID RAGE!

Ok, I know what you're thinking, a massively muscled barbarian going insane after pumping up at the gym and destroying everything in site. WRONG! Everybody talks about steroid abuse, I want to talk about the things that other people won't. HEMORRHOIDS! That's right I am going to share with you the rather intimate story of my ass. Are you ready?

How many of you have actually had the pleasure of experiencing the "roid" sensation. If you have, please feel free to laugh along as I try to explain it to the rest of the "roid" free world. Let's see, where should I start. It starts off as a mild irritation, maybe you just got done taking an enormous dump, or perhaps you where taking a shower, when you noticed that your crack is a little tender. Over the next couple of days the sensation starts to become a little more severe, you start to wonder if you pulled something after you disposed of your buffet dinner. Next thing you know you wake up one day and it feels like there is a golf ball shoved up your ass! At this point the pain is mild, it's more irritating than anything else. It's pretty hard to act cool with a golf ball up your ass.

Now this is where things get tricky, you have internal and external roids. Now the external variety hang of your bunghole like some kind of alien stalactite. While on the other hand the internal ones grow until you feel like your asshole is going to explode. Up until recently I believed that I was the proud owner of a rather small external model, the occasional flair up, no big deal. Due to some current events however, I'm beginning to believe that I have an internal roid the approximate size of a volleyball! 

Every time I sit down the room goes black, I see swirling stars in front of my eyes, and I try not to pass out as the pain explodes into my head directly from my anus! That doesn't hold a candle to what it feels like when I try to take a shit. Hell I can't even fart without whimpering like a bitch! Now Stop laughing for one moment and try to imagine having a red-hot poker stuck up your caboose that has a handy dandy inflatable but plug on the end of it. Not only is my ass ablaze, but it also feels like I'm trying to give birth to a flaming bowling ball. 

I'm told that if it doesn't go away soon, my only option will be to visit my local proctologist. I get to strip naked and crawl my nearly 400lb frame up onto a examining table, and assume the prone position while a doc stars up my hole. "Nurse! You have to see this thing, it's the size of a volley ball!" I don't think I can do it. I have to retain some of my pride. I have bared enough of my soul to you people. I have made the conscious decision to role over on my stomach and die like a man. I realize that if this thing continues to grow, it will either use up my entire blood supply, or explode and kill me. If you don't hear from me again soon, remember that I went out with dignity.

Adios! 

THE BUFFET!

TOO NICE?

Is it possible for someone to be too nice? Absolutely! How is this possible you may ask, in a world that seems to be teaming with rotten human beings, how is that someone can be "too nice"? The simple answer is, if there weren't so many overly conscientious people, there wouldn't be so many opportunistic criminals.

Adios!

How you can get laid in the next hour, guaranteed!

I know, you are wondering how I can guarantee that you can have sex with a complete stranger within the next hour. What is my secret? How can I make such an amazing statement? The answer is easy my friends. All you have to do to guarantee that you will have sex within the next 60 minutes is put on your best party dress and head for the closest bar! Oh yea, did I mention you have to be a female?

That’s right people it’s 1:00 am and the magic hour is about to start, it’s time to go hoggin! Yeee, Haaaaa! Anybody who frequents the local bar, and or club scene already knows what I’m talking about, but for the rest of you I shall explain.

At this very moment there is an incredibly ugly woman about to have sex with someone she just met. That’s right, she has absolutely no redeeming qualities whatsoever, but she is still going to go home with someone she has never talked to before in her life. How is this possible you ask? How is it that this nasty bitch is going to get some tonight and you aren’t? I hate to be crude about it, but the answer is very simple. A drunk man will fuck anything! Yep I said it, ANYTHING! Short, tall, fat skinny, ugly, crippled, stupid or smelly, a drunk man will fuck it. Hell in some cases we don’t have to be drunk, just lonely and hard up.

Women possess a power that I feel is completely and totally unfair. They can have sex any time they want. Any time, it makes no difference. If they aren’t real particular about their partner, a woman can get laid within an hour of leaving her house, guaranteed.  I’m not talking about an extremely attractive female either, any of them can do it.

For example, let’s assume that I am a fairly attractive average male. I don’t have any visible scars, body odors, or physical disabilities. I can not guarantee that I will have sex in the next hour. Let’s see what happens. The first chick thinks your too tall, or to short. The one after that thinks your too fat, skinny, or not athletic enough. The third one doesn’t have sex on the first date no matter what, she wants a lasting relationship. Number four only dates blondes, five only sleeps with black guys. Six is looking for a meal ticket preferably with a Porsche. Seven wants too see the results of your last blood test before she considers you. Eight isn’t sure if your signs are compatible? Nine won’t shut up long enough for you to ask her to fuck. Ten has three kids at home, and would like you to meet them first. Oops! Your hour is up, and it looks like another night alone with Rosie Palm and her five sisters.

Now on the other hand, we have Salley. Salley is 32 yrs old, about 5’6”, 285lbs. She is a bleach bottle blond sporting a home perm, with a faded tattoo of a rose on her left breast. She has decided to wear a red sequin party dress that is about four sizes to small, red pumps with five inch stiletto heals, and a pair of black fishnets that have seen better days. The blood red lipstick, and bright violet eye shadow set off the outfit perfectly. Salley wobbles into the club, her ass looks like two pigs fighting in a sack, but the good news is that her fishnets hide those cottage cheese thighs fairly well. She sits down at the end of the bar, orders a slow gin fizz, and waits. Notice the difference in tactics, there are no descriptions of her failures, because there aren’t any. She doesn’t have to try, she is female, something will come to her. Sure enough, about forty minutes later he arrives. Joe mows lawns for a living, he is in his mid forty’s, divorced, drunk, and lonely. Salley has everything that Joe desires, a hole and a heartbeat. In well under an hour, Salley has achieved her goal. She will once again spend a sweaty lust filled evening in some sorry bastards double wide. So keep your chin up and your hopes alive guys. You may not always be able to go home with a winner, but if your willing, there is usually a hog available. Good luck!

                                                 The End

                                                     Adios!  

Promotion = Asshole?

I have a question for everyone out there. Have you ever worked with a guy that you thought you knew? I don't mean the kind of guy you hang out with, go get beers with, hell you don't even need to talk to him. It's just that you've been around someone so long you really think you know what they're about. Then one day it happens, they get promoted. The quiet little guy you thought you were familiar with becomes the boss, and henceforth is know as the ASSHOLE!

Is it the power that transforms them into the prototypical bastard that we have all come to hate? Is it the feeling of superiority over their fellow workers? Do only intellectually challenged coworkers receive promotions? Or were they always enormous pricks, and just didn't have the balls to show themselves? I'm just not sure what causes this strange phenomenon, but I have witnessed it with my own eyes.

Let's talk about bastard bosses shall we. These are but a few examples of the moronic pieces of shit I have worked for in the past. I had a boss that snorted cocaine, smoked weed, and shot steroids, and then wondered why people thought he was a prick. Can you say MOOD SWINGS you fucking loser. Of course no one likes you, one minute your screaming your guts out, the next your half asleep and don't even know what the fuck your talking about. Up or down buddy, both don't work! Then there was his boss, let's see the only reason you have a job is because your uncle owns the company, you raise carrier pigeons as a hobby, and you're so pathetic you have to buy your dates. Can anyone out there say LOSER?

The next boss is a serious winner. At the time of my wedding, I was working with my father, and my best man. Jackass tells me that we can't all have the same day off at the same time. It's a wedding you idiot, it would be nice if my parents and my best man could be there!

A couple of years ago my grandfather died in the hospital where I work. The very next day the boss calls me at home to find out if I'm coming to work. No fuck head! I'm not coming to work, we haven't even buried him yet. Have you ever heard of grieving? It's something you do when you have feelings you insensitive prick!

My friend informs him that he is having a baby in March, and is going to take off a couple of weeks for maternity leave. The guy looks him straight in the face and says "Can't you take off in summer when it's slower?" No, he can't take off in the fucking summer! The baby is due in March. What is he suppose to do, wait for the kid to be five months old before he spends any time with him? "Sorry honey, I know your going to have a hard time getting around right after you give birth, but I should be able to help you out in July."

Anyway, these are but a few of my dealings with the species known as bosses. If you have any "Boss" horror stories feel free to e-mail them to me. If I get any really good ones we'll post them in a couple of weeks.  Also, if you people out there have any good topics for rants, send them in! I can't be pissed off and funny all the time, I need a little help. Send me your stories or ideas, and we'll see what happens.

 Adios!  

The Sad World That We Live In

A good friend of mine contacted me today with what I find to be a very disturbing story. The friend I'm talking about happens to be a Tattoo artist. For quite some time now, he has been attempting to open a shop in Plant City, FL. (Why on God's green earth I have no idea.) For the past two years he has been bypassed, ignored, and just plain told no. Just recently he was told that his type of business wasn't wanted in their town. That the type of cliental he would attract would lower property values, and disrupt their lifestyle? What the hell is wrong with these people? Have they stepped foot out of Plant City in the last century. Tattooing is no longer considered a deviant practice in most of the civilized world. My bud was even told that his shop would take away from the historical value of their town. Let's have a little talk about the history of tattoos.

In 1991 a frozen man was found in the mountains between Austria and Italy. Upon his body he bore seven different tattoos. He is believed to be well over five thousand years old. Does that sound historical to you? Tools for creating tattoos have been found that date back to the Upper Paleolithic period. (10,000A.D. - 38,000A.D.) That definitely sound like history to me!

 Archaeologists have discovered clay figure representations of Ancient Egyptians bearing facial tattoos in their burial crypts. These sites date back to 2000B.C. 

Throughout Europe's history, tattooing was reserved for the social elite. Tattoo artists were considered to be as revered as canvas artists. Their prices were well beyond the means of the common people. King George V, Grande Duke Alexis of Russia, as well as King Harold, were all know to have bore tattoos.

As to the question of character, In a commentary written in 528A.D. Procopius of Gaza reported that "Many Christians were tattooed on the arms with a cross or Christ's name." Does a tattoo baring Christ's name peg you for a person of questionable character and moral standing? I personally find the accusation that people with tattoos are of a lower standing than the rest of the world to be utterly ridiculous as well as offensive. I am a trained medical professional. I lead a team consisting of three other college educated medical professionals. We save lives, and help to stop suffering, every time we report to work, and you know what? All four of us have tattoos! The next time you'r in need of serious medical attention, are you going to turn me away because I have a skull on my arm? I really doubt it.

Tattoos are expressions of ourselves, of the things we can't express in words, of the feelings that we have but can't explain. My arm bears a Chinese dragon that celebrates the birth of my firstborn son. He was born in the year 2000 (Year of the Dragon). My arm also has, both my zodiac symbol, as well as my wife's. These symbols will always be a reminder of the love that created such a beautiful child. I fully intend to add both of my parents symbols to that arm as well, a permanent reminder of the love that I have for them. My best friend wears the name of the son that he and his wife lost during childbirth. Nicholas's name will always be a reminder of the love that two people bear for a child that never had the chance to grow up. None of these things can possibly be considered deviant, evil, or inappropriate.

 To the people that have shunned my friend, The Hawthorne family at Olde Village Shoppes in Plant City, Collier Arnlod realty of Plant City, Walter Dickerson realty's of Tampa FL, as well as all the other small minded people out there who don't have the common sense to open their eyes, or their minds. We the tattooed of this planet are not all gang members, bikers, ex-convicts, social deviants, criminals, misfits, or any of the other horrible things that you can imagine. We are people with a love for an art, an art that has a rich historical background. We are mothers and fathers, husbands and wives, doctors and lawyers, and a million other lifestyles and professions that you would never suspect. We are people just like you, some good some bad. The fact that we have ink in our skin doesn't make us anything more or less than the people that we are on the inside. Remember that the next time you judge us. 

Adios.    

Reality TV 

The only thing "real" about reality TV, is you have to be "real" fucking bored to be entertained by it. Come on people? Reality TV? What the hell is real about dropping people of on an island, having a massive popularity contest, and giving a million dollars to a fat fag? Survivor my ass! If I had been on survivor, I would have killed the fag & the truck driving bitch on the first day. Then I would have barbecued the skinny whinny chicks! Now that's survival! How about this idea for survivor? We take a middle aged Caucasian business man, strip him naked, stuff him in a pair of cowboy boots & a Stetson hat, then drop him off in the middle of the ghetto. If he survives for 24hrs while creatively reaching designated check points, he wins $100,000. At this point he can choose to take his money and run, or be dropped off in a new hostile area. LA, DC, Chicago, NY, etc. If he can survive for one week, he wins $1,000,000 now that's survival! By the way this same scenario can be used for other ethnic backgrounds as well. We could drop Puerto Ricans in the Louisiana swamps. African Americans in Mississippi, or even heterosexuals in San Francisco. 

Then there's "Big Brother" where we take people of different backgrounds, social standings, and lifestyles, and force them to coexist. HMMM? I thought we called that life? I put up with assholes all day everyday. At work, at the store, at the mall, and on the roads. What's so special about this one? Reality huh? When's the last time you took a shit while a major network camera man watched you wipe? Reality my ass! 

"The Mole" You must decide who is the Mole. The Mole will lie to you, and try to trick you, so that you can't win the $1,000,000. Again, reality? The Mole is the guy that told security that you where the one pissing in the coffee! We all lie everyday. Big lies, little white lies, harmless lies, maniacal lies, all day everyday, everybody lies. From "Yes sir, I sent that report out yesterday" to "No! That sweater doesn't make you look fat." All lies, all Moles, who cares. More bullshit! 

And last but not least, "Temptation Island" you are sent to an island surrounded by beautiful women & men that are trying to get you to cheat on your mate. Of course you aren't allowed to be married, or have kids, you can only bring a boyfriend, or girlfriend. So in "reality" you are going to an island with FREE prostitutes that are trying to get you to cheat on the person with whom your greatest loyalty to involves not eating the last snow cap at the movies? How about I go to the island, fuck everything in site, make $5000 bucks, then go back to the mainland and get a new girlfriend? Reality? The next time somebody pays my fat ass $5,000 to fly to a tropical paradise to get it on with five beautiful women, I'll let you know. I think I probably have a better chance of seeing Jesus driving a used Nissan pickup, delivering free pizzas! 

Here's some reality, I'm done bitching! Adios!

Generation Huh?

Today's rant discusses a situation that we have all experienced. There you are, standing at the counter of your favorite fast food place, grocery store, or other everyday retail outlet. Your order comes to a whopping seven dollars and sixty three cents. Right as your $20 dollar bill touches the finger tips of the bright young star standing behind the register, the power flickers! (hushed silence ensues) The cash register is dead. You are officially FUCKED! 

So there you are expecting your change, hand patiently outstretched, palm facing up, a cramp forming in your bicep! But to your dismay, the change does not come? The bright young teen standing behind the register has been transformed into a drooling mindless primate! His fingers swish through the change drawer like a toddler playing in a puddle. He reaches up to scratch his head with his free hand while staring at your twenty, which has been carefully balanced on the edge of the drawer. You look at him and say "My change please? I have places to be." He looks at you with pure undeniable confusion and says "I can't give your change sir. The register is down." "You owe me twelve dollars and thirty seven cents. Just give me my change!" As the drool string drips towards the floor he says "I'm sorry sir, I can only give the change my register tells me to." Your head starts to turn purple, your cramping arm begins to tremble and you begin to yell "One ten, two ones! A quarter, one dime! And two fucking pennies! Give me my GOD DAMN CHANGE!" Monkey boy looks up at you with a completely mind numbing smile and says "I'm sorry sir, I can only give you the change that the register tells me to." At this point I reach into my jacket pocket, pull out a pineapple grenade, and blow the place to shit! 

I think I'm technically a part of generation X, nearing the end of my third decade on this planet, it wasn't that long ago that I was a full time student. There appears to be a subtle difference between school in the 70's & 80's and school now. BACK THEN WE LEARNED SHIT! 

Why is it that most teens and young adults today can't count? Can't spell, can't read, and for the most part can't think on their own? Did we decide the educational budget was too low to include an education? Does the American government realize the society it's giving birth to? And if this is what has happened in the last ten or twenty years, what do we expect for our children's children? Just something to think about. Adios!

IGNORANCE AT ITS FINEST!

  The other day I received a rather unusual e-mail, I would like to read it to you at this time. "Lord Kray and your site breeds ignorance." The name left with it was SJF. I wrote a letter to Mr. SJF in order to inform him that all comments and criticisms are accepted. However I would appreciate a little clarification as to what exactly he found so offensive that would cause him to leave such a remark. One little sentence is a bit hard to draw a lot of meaning from. I have now waited patiently for three days. Needless to say, I have not received a reply. I would like to take this opportunity to share my feelings about this with my faithful viewers.

  Mr. SJF, do you know what breeds ignorance? YOUR PARENTS YOU INBRED, UNEDUCATED, TOOTHLESS, SENSELESS, PIECE OF SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you don't like my site, don't come back! Please feel free in continuing your usual pastime activities, such as jerking off, sneaking peeks at your mom in the shower, and sodomizing small rodents! I don't want people like you coming to my site. I am truly offended by the fact that you are allowed to breath the same air as myself. This is the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. In this country we are allowed to say what ever we want, it's called freedom of speech. This applies to partially evolved primates such as yourself as well as to the rest of our society as a whole. But please use this PRIVILEGE wisely. Complete sentences would be nice, concise thoughts pertaining to your complaint. I am more than happy to listen to any criticism you may have. But it must be explained in a manner NOT equivalent to dipping your fingers in your own shit and making pictures on the wall of your cell!

  For those of you who agree with me on this manner please feel free to contact MR. SJF at: AMAFEX@hotmail.com. I'm sure he would love to hear your opinions on the matter. If you like the site tell me, if you don't tell me. But for Christ sakes, grow a set of nuts, and answer the questions when asked.