Domestic Violence – Cure Has Been Found!

This is great! Like two scoops or raisins!
The greatest news from specialists at the “Mayo Labs” has been released yesterday, and we’re glad to be one of the first people to bring it to you, thanks to use completely disregarding our NDA!

Since the beginning of time, or rather 1994 in America, we’ve been doing everything we can to end domestic violence by calling attention to it with special laws. We’ve originally believed the issue was deep routed psychological issues, or even a learned behavior from previous generations. All the research in the world didn’t seem to help. That is until now! What is this miracle cure which is guaranteed to stop any and all domestic violence? Here it is:

Shut the Fuck Up!

Yep. That’s it! Think about how simple an instruction this is. You’d think everything would be much more complicated, but the facts prove it really isn’t. Checking with current and former domestic violence victims we can see everything stems from not just keeping their mouth shut unless asked directly for a response…and even then it might be better to just shut up.

The Core Principle
At its core the principle is simple and yet complicated. As human beings, we’re conditioned to speak with others and even provide responses. Those of us who have been wronged are often found trying to find defense with our words. This faulted evolutionary trait must be fought and controlled if we are to continue to evolve as a species while also ending domestic violence.

Imagine this scenario:
Your husband/boyfriend/brother/guy friend comes home and he’s already in a bad mood. He has a history of knocking in your teeth for being a “disrespectful bitch” and he is expecting, not only a nice dinner, but a deep vacuum of the entire place. You managed to get a 100% perfect job on vacuuming the carpet, but the broccoli is slightly cold in the middle, meaning you didn’t cook it well enough.

Man – “What the fuck is this?!”
You – “Dinner…”
Man – “No! THIS IS SHIT! It’s FROZEN in the middle!”
You – “I did it the way…”

Suddenly he jumps across the table and punches your stupid face into the ground.

This was your fault. You didn’t keep your mouth shut! You shouldn’t have said anything.

Now let’s look at how you should have handled the same situation, but keeping your mouth shut:

Man – “What the fuck is this?!”
You – “…”
Man – “You fucking IGNORING ME?!”
You – “…”
Man – “YOU DISRESPECTFUL BITCH!”

Suddenly he jumps across the table, grabs you by the throat for a second and then stops sighing.

Man – “At least you did the fucking vacuuming! I’m going out for dinner. Eat your shit or starve!”

He then leaves, bangs a random bar slut, gets an STD, and then fucks your brains out later that night to assert his dominance. You are in a much better position this time!

Psychology of the Cure
The only psychology involved is your own. Keeping your mouth shut takes tremendous mental strength. By doing exercises such as no longer speaking to friends and family nor communicating with anyone at all, you can eventually learn to keep your mouth shut unless specifically asked to respond. Even when asked to respond, you should know exactly what is expected of you. This can take years, so getting out of the relationship just because you’re weak is ill advised.

Testimonials from the Participants
We’ve acquired some testimonials from participants of the original study for your reading pleasure. You’ll see the subject’s names and read their experience with it all, including how long it lasted before hand.


Name: Sarah McKennis
Nationality: Irish
Current Residence: Missouri
Results According to Subject:
My husband, Mitchell, was one of the hardest hitters I had ever been with. He would beat me until I would fall unconscious constantly. No matter what the conversation was about, it would end with me getting slugged in the face like it was there for visible punctuation. The exclamation marks were his favorite. His cock though…oh my god! It’s the biggest reason I didn’t leave him, and besides, I’m a strong woman and not a quitter.

When I heard of this study I told Mitchell. “GOOD!” he told me and busted my face open so deeply I ended up with six staples across my face from biting a hole in my own face. I didn’t even wait for my mistake to heal and went straight to the study.

How are things now? Well, I’ve learned to keep my mouth closed and only speak when I should be replying. As for why I’m in this hospital bed giving my evaluation…well…I forgot to check attitude at the door when he made a comment about feeling old. Rule number one is to shut the fuck up, and I didn’t. I told him it’s okay if he gets old and I still love him. My mistake! However, the study still stands and I give it a 100%


Name: Timmy Ashford
Nationality: American
Current Residence: New Mexico
Results According to Subject:
Stephen is my step-dad. Well, he’s my step-dad in the sense he’s always having sex with my mother, lives with us, eats all our food, drinks all day, refuses to marry my mom and give me a father in a proper family setting, all the while beating my ass raw. I used to be a bad kid, but now I know my place. I no longer make the same mistakes as so many of my friends do. He even lets me call him Stephen now and not “Master”.

What started me in the trial is when Stephen had been asking me to clean my room five or six times in a single day. Like I said, I was a bad kid in those days, and refused to do anything he said because I was angry at him for just being around. So, after the fifth or sixth time of him screaming for me to clean up my room, I yelled back, “FUCK YOU STEPHEN! You’re not even my real dad!” You can imagine the three hour beating with a belt, a hot curling iron, and his fists. He got so tired my mother even had to take over beating me when he broke his hands on my ass!

My mommy had enough of my attitude and couldn’t take the stress anymore, just knowing I would continue to make Stephen mad, so she looked through the papers on where she could take me. She stumbled upon the trial and enrolled me right away. I got time away from Stephen and learned to keep my mouth shut for my own good!

A+ program and I highly suggest all other bad kids, which is all kids, to enroll!


Name: Tiffany-Sage Haddler
Nationality: British
Current Residence: Idaho
Results According to Subject:
My mummy always wants me to wear bright colours and act as a lady, but I just didn’t like it all too much. Mummy does know what is best, but in my silly head I could just not see that as a fact and I acted up just like all these spoiled American brats. No longer do I, however!

I would talk back to my mummy and ask her what she knew, and the result would be immediate and severe slaps among my face and fanny. She would constantly ask me how I would ever expect to please a husband if I spoke back all the time. My daft reasoning was that I did not want to be a stay at home mummy like mummy, who earned money by bringing in strange men and making me watch so they would both pay more and finish faster. Oh, what a sod I was!

Thanks to this program, I now know a proper woman is seen and not heard. She does exactly that and more. The more is what my mummy teaches me. I now have the skills and education early enough to carry me throughout my adult life in order to become a proper lady of the house!

I will raise many cups of tea in the honour of this program!


Name: Julian Nielson
Nationality: Ameri-queer
Current Residence: Gay Bay
Results According to Subject:
Mmmm…my name is Julian, but call me Sally RoughRider! I love long walks on the beach, blonds, and butt sex! Tee hee!!!! I know this isn’t a dating service, you giggly gooses!

My life partner, Bruce, who I always call “OH damn! THAT MAN!!!!” in a loving way, used to break a foot off in my ass, and I don’t mean in a fun gay way. Oh no. He’d kick the shit out of me almost every time I opened my whore mouth. That was the problem, you see, since as a gay man I don’t know when to shut up. It’s just genetics, and you can’t fight genetics, but you can control your nasty habits like talking all the time.

The last straw was when Bruce came home drunk and stinking of both strange men and vagina. Trust me, you can tell the difference in that smell! Well, once again I opened my stupid whore mouth and he beat me to the point of needing medical treatment for damn near a month. While laying out in the hospital, he was reading me the obituaries to remind me I could end up in there, when I caught a glimpse of this trial and knew I needed help.

Now I only open my mouth to suck dick! Great improvement! Much love!

I ♥ (‿|‿)!


There you have it, everyone! Keep your fucking mouth shut if you don’t want to get your ass beat by your significant other. Doesn’t just work for normal people and women: It’s obviously great for gays and children, too!

Know your place!

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The Magical Whistling Vagina

There are few actual magical things in this world: Love of a puppy, a full moon on a still summer night, and the strangling of a baby. Well, I’ve found one more thing: the whistling vagina. While it’s not mine anymore, I had the pleasure of experiencing it for a time in my life and I know I can die a happy man now.

How this all started was simple enough and hardly worth mentioning, but I will. I had just finished a nine mile round trip hike around a local mountain range when I spotted a black haired angel. She was only around five foot four inches, but she had a hard body, tight ass, and a pair of tits which betrayed her small figure. Banging lips, too, which I knew could suck a pair of balls straight out of a hard dick. Turns out, I was right about that, but let’s not focus on this.

We caught eyes as I approached, so I stopped and began some idle chat with her. She told her two annoying friends to go ahead without her, and we made plans to meet up later. Now, I know what you’re thinking: “What about this magical whistling vagina?” I’m getting to that. Every story needs a good setup.

She must have called me fifteen times in two days to tell me how excited she was to meet up. Taking this as a cue, I decided to just invite her straight over to my place and have a date just like any other twenty three year old does. That is to say, put on Netflix, pretend to be interested in the movie on screen for five seconds, and then start making out for a few before banging each other until the sun comes up three days later. If you haven’t figured this is that kind of story yet, you’re dumber than even I figured you are.

The night in question comes around and she shows up in this tiny sun dress which barely covered her panties, which she actually wasn’t wearing, and was the description of “Holy shit, you fine!”. I popped some popcorn and we chatted as it finished up before flipping through Netflix to find something we were going to ignore. I don’t remember what it was, but sure enough, the make-out session started and she was aggressive in a good way.

Realizing this wasn’t going to be enough nor was the couch a good place to start the screwing, we both jumped up and ran to the bed room. All clothes came off and we got into the full swing of it. After about four strokes I realized I heard something strange, so I stopped and looked around. When I didn’t hear it again, I continued, only to realize the sound came back. She asked what was wrong and I told her, “I hear something odd…like…like a whistle that keeps changing as I’m nailing you.” She blushed and told me it was her. Well, not her, but her magical whistling vagina. I didn’t believe her and started trying different variations, which, sure enough, changed the pitch and length of each whistle.

From that moment on I was hooked! I couldn’t get enough of that magical whistling vagina. With her help, I explored all kinds of different musical tastes from Fredrick Francois Chopin to ZZ Top. From Waltz to Dubstep. Sadly, happiness can never truly last forever and she left one day for new adventures. I will always remember, and be grateful, for the time with that magical whistling vagina!

Real Life Trolling: Includes an actual bridge


Working in a restaurant can suck. Unlike in the movies, it isn’t the constant bed swap with everyone who works there. Sure, that happens, but it’s not one blur of an orgy I’d like it to be. There’s the long hours, little pay, and you always go home smelling like you rolled around in every mix of spice before deep frying yourself. Luckily, anytime someone wants any “thing” to relax, one person or another has it. Granted, it’s not all bad. Even for a cook.

Just so you guys remember, I’m in pretty good shape, but I chain smoke, and like to drink my beer as if it were grape Kool-Aide in south central Los Angeles. In other words, I down that shit like I had to keep my veins filled. I’ve got plenty of tattoos and a naturally sour disposition, so working in the restaurant is just perfect for me. The staff is generally as bitter as I am, but we like to have our fun by teasing each other.

If you’ve ever worked in a restaurant before, you know how there are certain rituals/routines you do, especially the late shift. My routine consisted of grabbing a 24 pack of cheap beer and meeting with the rest of the closers under a bridge crossing over the city river. We hang out, drink, make out, get high, and at least one “couple” gets a fuck or two in. It’s a great way to blow off steam, and generally speaking, no one bothers us since no one ever goes down there. Hell, we’re not even supposed to be down there, but whatever. Fuck the pigs. They would never be able to chase us all down, anyway.

Well on this particular night I was going to end up being alone. Most of the closing shift was also going to open, and those who didn’t either had class the next morning or other plans. “Fuck it,” I thought to myself, “No reason to waste a perfectly good spring night, right?” So, I took my beer and headed to the hang out spot, tucked myself up under the bridge, pulled my bandana lower on my brow, lit up a cigarette and cracked open a beer. I relished that beer. The dinner service was a night bred by the unholy sexcapade between the Twilight Zone and Satan’s asshole. I’m not kidding…it was odd, hot, and annoying. I closed my eyes, taking a long drag and slowly exhaled, imagining the smoke itself was all of the stress for the day…no, the god damn week escaping my body. As tranquility and the start of a buzz slowly began to set over me, as at this time I was eight beers in, my peace was disturbed by one of the most annoying sounds I have ever heard.

Have you ever heard SpongeBob SquarePants laugh, but with an odd Boston accent followed by guffaws belched out by retarded hicks trying to sound like they are 50 Cent? Be glad you haven’t, because my blood pressure instantly raised. The fact I hadn’t realized they were coming to my location wasn’t annoying enough, their laughing and voices did. Their echoed cackles off the concrete pierced my ears like a thousand rusty nails making it impossible, for the moment, for me to hear what they then continued to chatter on about. I remained in my perch, waiting for them to say something to me as they came under the bridge, but they didn’t. Instead, they stopped directly next to the edge of the concrete ledge and sat down. I realized at that moment, they had no idea I was there. So, I stayed quiet, and sipped on my beer.

Just so you know, the concrete spillway, which everyone called a river, was normally pretty close to empty. Thanks to an unusual amount of seasonal rain, the water was only about two feet below the edge. The water looked cold, but was obviously not flowing very fast…at least noticeably on the surface. I’m sure there was some undertow at work, but I’m not a fucking water scientist, so I don’t know. I’d just assume the water would be uncomfortable to swim in.

When my ears regained the ability to hear sounds again, I learned their names. Well, I kind of did. The obvious leader of the pack was named Chuck. The only reason I know this is because his little rat friend kept calling him “Chuck”. I’m not kidding…it was “Chuck” this and “Chuck” that, and “Okay, Chuck!” there, and “That’s funny, Chuck!” here. One thing was immediately obvious to me: I hated Chuck with all of my being. He was a huge piece of shit who got off on the little bit of power he had over that little rat faced punk and the girl. The douche bag wore a mostly white wife beater. The reason I say “mostly” is due to the yellow marks under the arm holes, which could be seen even in the terrible light provided by the over head street lamps. He accented the high taste in clothing by wearing pants sagged below his ass, where his red and blue stripped boxer shorts were visible. For shoes? Flip flops. Yeah…

The girl, who had an obvious red dye job and wore a tank top two sizes too tight and cut off shorts three sizes too small, was named “Bitch”. I don’t know if that was her actual name, but it’s all Chuck ever called her. The little rat faced bastard never referred to her as anything. She was also the source of the most offensively stereotypical Boston accent I had ever heard. At first I thought she was just pretending, but the more she talked the more I realized it never changed. Her voice always sucked, and almost the only thing she did was tell Chuck how great he was or repeat something he said, followed by that fucking SpongeBob laugh. If she wasn’t with these two dumb asses and didn’t have that voice, I’d have been more than happy to ruin her plumbing. That voice, though…eesh. The mere thought of her sex screams with that voice kept my penis softer than a feather.

Oh, and last but not least was Steve, also known as “dumb fuck / twat / dip shit / retard / faggot”, according to Chuck. “Bitch” was the only one to ever call him Steve, so I figure that was his God given name, not Chuck’s nicknames for him. From what I could tell, this kid was a bit younger than both Chuck and “Bitch”, but he was obviously smarter than both combined. What he was doing with both of them, I don’t know, but he always made sure not to correct Chuck or “Bitch” at any point during the conversation. Several times he had the look on his face which could be read as, “That’s…not right…but he’s the leader and she’s fucking him so I’ll be quiet!” Hell, he even dressed what I could consider “normal”. Because of his submissiveness, however, I hated him almost as much as Chuck, but not quite as much as “Bitch”…by a hair.

Yes, I had briefly thought about leaving, but since they didn’t know I was there, I figured there was no point. Over the course of about an hour, I drank the rest of my beer and watched the spectacle of the bottom of the gene pool in front of me. These geniuses discussed everything from the uber important “faggot ass cops” to “just print more money”. To say I was in awe would be an overstatement. It’s when Chuck announced he had to “take a mean fucking piss” things got interesting. Instead of going elsewhere, Chuck stood straight up, dropped his pants around his ankles, and began to pee into the water. At least at first.

See, Chuck was proving he was a big boy. With his hands on his hips, Chuck leaned backwards while pissing and let out this, “Argh wahahahahah argh!” Both Steve and “Bitch” laughed and cheered him on. In a move taken straight out of a German porn, Chuck turned toward Steve and began pissing on him. Steve did his best to block the stream from his face, but it wasn’t very effective. Whipping to the side, Chuck then began to piss on “Bitch”. Surprisingly, “Bitch” did nothing to get out of the way. Apparently she was used to being marked as territory, because she just laughed. I had enough at this point. It was time to take action.

I became a man with a mission. Deeply sucking in the last of my cigarette, I blew it out like a steam powered train before pulling my bandana over my mouth like a wild west bandit. I charged down the little hill towards them. They were still completely oblivious to my presence. I had the element of surprise!

For no reason I can fathom, perhaps fueled by my increasing inebriation, as I neared them I screamed out, “COBRA!!!!!” I was possessed by the 1980’s cartoon G.I. Joe enemies, guided by the dark hand of Cobra commander. Again, I don’t know why, but it just felt so right. It also had the desired effect of scaring the shit out of all three of them. I mean, three wannabe wiggers hanging out under a bridge at two in the morning suddenly being charged by a man in a bandana over his face is scary shit.

Chuck spun around in fear, the last bit of piss soaking his boxers and pants. He tried in vain to reach down in order to pull his pants up, but I was too fast. I jumped in the air and, using both knees against his upper body while pushing his head back with my arms, I knocked Chuck into the water. His, “WHAT THE FUCK!” was cut short as he hit the water hard. “Bitch” managed to stand and begin to run, but my main focus was Steve at this point, who was trying to scramble to his feet. I grabbed Steve by a fist full of hair, punched him in the ribs, and then threw him into the water as well, right next to Chuck. Before I could admire my work for too long, I realized “Bitch” was getting away. Like the mighty toro, I charged after her, cocked my hand back, and smacked her so hard on the ass I literally knocked her off her feet. She got a good foot or so of air as she grabbed her backside and screamed about her ass as she hit the floor. The funniest part about cracking her on the ass that hard, besides the extremely loud echo from the impact of my hand on her little butt, was how she screamed. Her accent made it sound something akin to, “Moyi awwss!”

Laughing, I beat back in the other direction, and saw Chuck desperately trying to get out of the water, but failing to do so due to his pants keeping him from pulling himself up. Steve, however, showed that small sign of intelligence and swam down stream a few yards where the ledge was shorter. It was a sign of independence and thought which would no doubt get him a severe beating by Chuck later, since Chuck saw Steve getting out of the water and began swimming his direction. Just as Steve got out of the water completely, I body slammed him back into the water, right on top of Chuck’s head. I continued to laugh as I ran towards the exit and my car. The entire time, I could hear Chuck screaming how he was going to find me and murder my family. Good luck with that buddy.

The moment I got in my car, I heard sirens in the distance. I am certain they weren’t coming for us, but I wanted to take no chances, and floored my Impala as hard as I could. That rebuilt LT1 growled to life as my tires smoked before gaining traction. All the way home I laughed. It was the best sleep and time under that bridge I had in a long time…and that includes all the fucking I had done there previously.

How people are finding my entries (s)


Okay, people, seriously…what the fuck? I really like people finding my writings and reading them, but some of the search terms used to find me are pretty horrific. So, what I’m going to do for everyone is list some of the most “Dude, seriously?” of them here. All search strings are copypasta as they appeared with no editing!

Oh, and any link found on this entry will open to a new window so you can continue to read, while also referencing what I’m talking about.


shaving instant abs
What? Seriously? I guess this has to do with my Incredible Life Hacks entry in which I mention “great looking abs for wookies” and tell people to just shave abs into their fur. Still…why was someone looking this up?
 
 
confused monkey
How in the hell did I come up in a search with that string? Also, how deep must I be in those returned results to find me? Except for this page, I don’t think those two words appear directly next to each other in any of my entries…
 
 
guy who climbed a mountain with a t-bar
*laughing* Whaaaaat? Who the hell thought to look this up and what led them to think of it? I mean…I honestly don’t even know why someone would want to try to climb a mountain with a god damn t-bar…
 
 
i pray for a zombie apocolypse every day
Not only is apocalypse spelled wrong, the fact anyone is praying for it to happen every day is a little disturbing. I’m a fan of unrelenting carnage as much as the next sociopath, but come on…
 
 
mk 9 true skill
There is nothing on my sight to give you “true skill” in Mortal Kombat (9). Like, at all. I do have the fake tournament rules I did as a joke, but if you take any of that seriously, well, you’re a dumbass.
 
 
ejaculating into the ear
What the hell is wrong with you people?! Still…this is a new one for me! That means it’s time for a party:

 
 
well here goes nothin’
Huh? Is this like one of those “I Feel Lucky” things from Google? Nope, this is an actual search string used to locate my writings. Where this leads to and why I haven’t a single idea….at least it got people here, right?
 
 
when a guy says i don’t have to lie to you
While most of my writing is tongue in cheek, there is a bit of truth in everything I write. How I present the truth to people, however, is a terrible way to receive advice. This place is a writing site of satire and fun…not a real advice column, regardless of how the entry reads. So, to find this site using that search string…well…you’re better off just hitting the bottle and smiling, then tell him, “Well, I thought that was the best way to solve the issue!”

The truth is, though, if a guy says you don’t have to lie to him, then just fucking don’t lie. Stop lying, god damn it.
 
 
felicia day the other
*blink blink* Uh…huh..? I know I did the entry Who I Will Donkey Punch and Why, which had Felicia Day as one of the women, but this search string doesn’t make a lick of sense.
 
 
i was fucking myself using a broom does that mean im not a virgin anymore
I’m honestly at a loss of words…
 
 
 
fats food job to hard
Aww, is the little bitch finding working in “fats” food “to” hard? FYI, it’s “fast” and “too”, you fucking illiterate little shit. Given you feel working in the fast food industry is too hard and you can’t even use the correct word (fast, too), being in fast food is all you’re going to be experiencing. Don’t worry…four or five fast food jobs should be enough to scrape by while taking care of three kids with two separate women while living in your mother’s basement. Obama will come to your rescue.
 
 
vampire withstand daylight for at least 12hrs
Dick off, Cullen.
 
 
can i return something at macy’s i’ve worn
This may have to do with my Actual Customer Complaints (s) entry. That entry has to do with idiot customers…and this search string is probably done by a few of them.

Here’s a tip: Don’t buy something you don’t want or haven’t tried on…and this won’t be a problem!
 
 
sexyass site:wordpress.com/2013/06
It’s hard to argue my site is and does has a sexy ass. Still, I can’t figure out why someone was looking this up nor why it got them to my site. Then again, as I said, this site, and me included, does have a sexy ass!
 
 
what does it mean when someone screams at you that you ruined them
Once again, any advice you receive from this site isn’t really advice… Still, if you’re asking this question, you must be horribly brain dead. Generally in the moments preceding the statement you ruined them, the reason was talked about…and if it wasn’t, then the reason is going to be stated immediately following that you ruined them.
 
 
god created sex people ruined it
Once again: WHY?! I have never discussed this in any of my writings. There is nothing about my sex life at all, but rest assured, I’m awesome.
 
 
elyse levesque armpits
Da fuq?
 
 
if i dont call or text will he become reinterested/
I know how this found the site. It’s due to the entry called Just Because I Don’t Call You in Four Days…. I just think it’s funny someone was actually considering this and found my site in regards to it.
 
 
sexting per minute services
Really? You really needed this?
 
 
what does a jack of spades tattoo mean on a man
How come this is even a question? Does it have to mean anything? There’s some bullshit about the Queen of Spades and even the Ace of Spades, but it’s mostly bullshit.
 
 
disable pussies
Aside from three to seven days a month, why would you want to disable pussies? Pussies are awesome. I, myself, am quite a vagitarian. I even have an appropriate bib…kinda like a lobster bib, but with a picture of a naked chick spreading her legs.
 
 
hot one blowing a donkey
What is…I don’t even…
 
 
werewolves bang hot vsmpire chick
…good lord…
 
 
when you sneeze on your period meme
*sigh* Does this actually have to be a meme…and why does this link to my writings?
 
 
dirty sexy sweaty bestiality stories
Once again…the fuck, people?!
 
 
little pussy woman
o_0


Well…there’s the most screwed up search strings which have found my writings. You people need help…and I need a shower…

I’m his wife – Setting the record straight

Hello there, everyone. This is as he’s been calling himself on here Sunrie’s wife and I want to set the record straight with everyone. I was very shocked dismayed and surprised when I found his writings here and I want to let everyone know he’s actually a very nice man.

I knew he was writing things on the internet, but he was always quiet about what he was posting. He just said, “Fun random stuff.” Well, now I see what he is writing and…I am upset. He is actually just a sweet, nice guy, and I cannot understand why he is putting the things he does here! The tough guy talk, the grotesque descriptions about sexual acts, the woman hate, the borderline racism… It is all shocking to say the least.
 
 
What is the truth? The truth is he is a nice, sweet guy! He is romantic to a fault and is always making sure I am taken care of no matter what! These writings are terrible! He is not someone who hates woman I can tell you for sure! He loving and sweet and nice and lovely. He is just so nice. He feeds the homeless he does not punch them in the face. He pets puppies, he does not drown them. He absolutely loves children and would never beat them. He volunteers with big brothers and is always helping to take disadvantaged kids to amusement parks!
 
 
Why he is writing all of this is beyond my ability to understand. I have asked him, but he just goes quiet and keeps saying he is sorry. He should be sorry. The filth written on this site is terrible. For the sake of it all…he writes poetry! Yes, poetry! His expression in prose and rhyme are comparable to Shakespeare! I am going to make sure this site becomes a shrine to his multiple talents as a loving writer instead of a monument to the hate he currently expresses. This is so unlike him. Until then, know his wife is taking care of the situation and you do not have to worry any longer.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
April Fool’s, bitches!!!!!

Greetings cards I’d like to see

The greeting card industry is worth billions each year. Most card purchases are $2 to $4 a piece. Even with 1.65 billion being sold at Christmas time, we’re still looking at 4.85 billion greeting cards sold each year. That’s some serious walking around money there! There are greetings cards ranging from “It’s a boy!” to “We’re sorry for your loss…”, but even with so much variation, there are a few areas the industry seems to be missing out on.

By adding just these three types of cards I’d like to see on the market, we’d see greeting cards go from being 85% purchases by women to a 50/50 split with men. Even though I can make all this money by myself offering these cards, I’m willing to allow the big name players in the industry a try at these before I swoop in and kick their ass in sales.

Oh, and you can click on the cards to get a larger view in a separate window!


1. Sorry about the STD/Baby
Everyone has cards welcoming new babies into the world and congratulating the parents (as if it’s difficult if you don’t have a poisonous womb) on having a child. What if someone didn’t want a child or you aren’t happy about it? After all, babies are the absolute worst and most permanent STD you can have. The only relief from them are death.

“Do you mean the baby’s or the parents?!” – You
“Yes.” – Me
“You’re horrible!” – You
“Meh.” – Me

This card could go for a boy, a girl, a hermaphrodite, a premie, or aids. Hell, really any STD. Does someone have herpes? Get them a “Sorry about your STD!” card. Did you mean to give them an STD? Well, then there could even be a “Surprise! You have XXX STD!” or even, “HAHAHAHAH! You now have XXX! Thanks for the bang!”

Given how slutty women and undiscriminating men are these days, the retailers would have a hard time keeping these on the shelf.


2. Kill Yourself
Why these aren’t already on the market is beyond me. If ever there was a massive market for an unconventional card, it’s this. I can list at least ten people off the top of my head I would give this card to today. Eight of them I don’t even actually know on a personal level.

Quitting your job? Give your boss this type of card. Hate your co-worker? This card! Don’t like your adult child? This card! Hate your husband? This card! Annoying and depressed female “friend”? Yeah, you guessed it: THIS CARD!

I mean, seriously, these cards wouldn’t last a day once the word got out. There are just too many people these cards can go out to. Hell…the best use would be to send them to every member of congress regardless of political affiliation!


3.I’m a fool and you’re a slut
Yep, this is true. Relationships grow stale and people are so busy pretending to still care, everything falls apart. Why pretend and let things fester to the point of domestic violence when you can express your current feelings? Sure the laundry will still stink, but at least you know what’s up.

Let’s be honest…the real reason you got with that chick is because you thought she was a slut. Well, yeah, okay, so she is. Oh, don’t get upset. Everyone woman is a slut except for your mother, but your father thought she was and that’s why you were born. As for women, the reason you got with that guy is because you thought he was foolish enough to spend money on you while putting everything else by the wayside. Your father was a fool, and that’s why your mother had you. Yep, you read it and I don’t apologize for it.

These cards are great for your screw buddy. It doesn’t matter if it’s for a man or a woman, the card works either way. I guess it could even work for your server or chef, too. Options!


I’m waiting on the endless sea of phone calls I will undoubtedly be receiving soon for the rights to sell these. Everyone else, don’t bother calling because it’s going to end up going straight to voicemail I’ll be so busy…and we all know how I feel about voicemail.

Valentine’s Day is not really a holiday!

Let's Get Drunk and Screw
Ah yes, February 14th, better known as Valentine’s Day. At least, it’s better known to all those annoying women out there who are looking forward to getting more shit they don’t deserve, but not so much for us guys. There are a multitude of reasons why men simply hate this Hallmark holiday. The only reason men go through the motions of this moronic day is to get pussy around their dick. Yes, we only do it for sex.

First of all, when it comes to Valentine’s Day, men don’t like crap. Teddy bears, chocolate, romantic movies, flowers, expensive dinners, talking: You know, crap! None of these things were invented with a man in mind. Sure, every so often some queer will go along with you women to a romantic movie because they want to, but don’t get that confused with men going to see romantic movies.

While I’m talking about crap that are given as gifts on V-Day, this is another area men get screwed on, and not in the good way. We see it up to a week before Valentine’s: Some poor pussy whipped bitch of a man is running ragged trying to find that perfect gift for his unappreciative woman. Now, don’t get me wrong, there are a very small few of you chicks out there that actually don’t freak when a man doesn’t give you any thing except for a small box of candy hearts. I’m not talking to you.

Valentine’s Day is NOT supposed to be a quest for the perfect present. Yet, we always see the aforementioned guy having a hernia in fear that his gift isn’t going to get him poontang, so he buys three times the amount of gifts he should have. Sometimes, the ungrateful bitch STILL won’t put out!!!! The only thing you should expect is a smile and a “Happy Valentine’s Day!” when we see you. Just because you have a vagina doesn’t mean you are entitled to anything because of that fact.

As I’ve been saying, it’s a Hallmark holiday. That means it’s basically made up so certain people can make more money. Now, I’m all for businesses making money, but I’m not all for creating a holiday to do it. I’m not going to insist on a “Advertising Production Artists Day” in order to force people to give me more money. Like Hallmark hasn’t cornered the market enough as it is! There are cards ranging from “Get Well Soon” to “Commit Suicide, You Lazy Fuck”.

Hmm…I’m on the subject of Hallmark, who makes cards, and Valentine’s Day at the same time. Good time to bring up a damn good point when it comes to cards. Don’t expect us to write anything else in the fucking card nor get pissed when we don’t! There is already writing on the inside of the card, so there is no point in writing anything else. I’m not paying $5.95 for Hallmark to write what I was thinking or want you to believe what I was thinking, just so that I have to actually write something more in the damn card! If I wanted you to know what the hell I was thinking, I would tell you. Men don’t talk about their feelings, so Hallmark does it for us!

Come on, do women REALLY need a special day just for them? Of course not. This further places the idea in their head that they deserve something just for being women! The only thing they really deserve is to be at the end of your penis, and they should be damn happy to be there since you were even willing to talk to her.

Now, there are certain instances when Valentine’s Day an be good. Actually, only one, really…and that’s if the chick’s birthday is on Valentine’s Day. I know what you’re thinking guys, “But doesn’t that complicate matters even more?!” HELL NO! This is great! With minimal effort, both issues are dealt with at once. Not only are you giving her birthday presents, you’re also giving her V-Day presents. This makes you seem sweet when you’re still being a huge asshole to keep her self esteem down!

V-Day is the time to get your balls relieved, guys, because there are so many desperate and lonely women out there. Look, no one is saying that you have to hold their hand in the mall nor marry them, so it really doesn’t matter if she’s a 5 or a 6. This is a one time bang, or you can keep her around for later booty calls. Remember, you’re not looking for a relationship, now are you? Oh, fuck no. Besides, Valentine’s Day is the worst time to look for one anyway, since the women are desperate and usually turn very pyscho because of it.

There are only three things you need to remember. These are the three “F’s” of dating: Find them, Feed them, Fuck them. That’s it. Oh, and make sure you either do it at a willing buddy’s house or her place. You don’t want to let her know where you live. Also, keep it under $40 for the night. No reason to spend all that money on some cheap whore you picked up to just screw and/or keep around for booty calls. If she thinks you’re willing to spend money, she’ll hang around expecting you to spend it all on her. Don’t let her.

Well, there it is, out in the open, the truth about Valentine’s Day and why men hate it. If a guy gets you anything, ladies, you best at least suck his dick. Lord knows he did it just because he felt the responsibility to, and this means you now have a responsibility of your own!


Oiriginally posted 05/04/2006 by me on OpenDiary-“Ramblings of the Sunrie”