Tag: satire

What Not To Wear….At My Funeral

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blooooo

No Shoes No Shirt No Problem., But Keep Your Suit For The War
Full Disclosure. I’m a tree hugging, peace love-a-dovin’, free lovin’ hippie freak. I was there at peace rally’s, sit ins, and assorted forms of demonstrations involving what they call “civil disobedience” We may have been a bit too disobedient but the authorities were far from civil. But that’s buried in the past and it’s a brave new world today. I am still a hopeful idealist and believe we have a chance, but I also believe its our species that is destroying the planet and totally fucking up nature an disrupting the survival strategies of other species. That said, old age is angrily and mercilessly creeping up and forcing me into considering issues younger people believe to be too far in the future.
Two things can happen as you reach those misnamed golden years. Nothing gold about them, its more like the weak porous bone years, but I remember when my father turned 80 he went the direction I see many go in. Pops found the religion that had mysteriously avoided him in the old days. He didn’t go to church too often, in fact if I saw him there 10 times as a kid that’s a lot. Of course he had no problem making sure his kids attended mass and sang and prayed but he spent that time in the firehouse across the street from the church. But at 80 he found religion and I’m guessing it was a way of hedging his bets. If they’re wrong and there is no heaven, no harm no foul. But on the other hand, if they’re right he wanted to make damn sure he prayed himself a ticket to the up escalator. He crammed and studied and before long was quoting scriptures previously foreign to him. But I’m not going that way. If I’m right I didn’t waste any time praying, and worshiping something that never even existed, along with Santa, the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny, and my imaginary friend who caused all the mischief and mayhem I was blamed for. And if I’m wrong, and I head down to the caves of hell at least I’ll have some good company, like drug dealers, hookers, and other ambiguous sinners. I’ll just have to make do with what’s there.
The other thing us old farts begin to think about is the event before traveling out as billions of particles into the cosmos, or up or down that religious elevator to determine our eternal fate. Death. Not a happy subject, and we don’t really like talking about it, at least about ours, but it is a reality that inches a little closer everyday. Once my ride of life ends its over and I’ll get off and let others take their turn, but I do want to make sure I am honored in death in the appropriate way.
Of course I want a party with lots of booze and singing an dancing, but I do have one very serious request. Like I aid, I have lived most of my life as a peace loving hippie and as such I wouldn’t want anyone at my funeral wearing a uniform of brutality. I’m not talking about assault weapon carrying military fatigue wearing soldiers, I mean the silent soldiers of war, the soldiers of fortune. They come in an assortment of uniforms, but most are something like collared shirts and ties, a jacket with matching slacks, and polished shoes. They try to appear different but they all dance to the beat of the same doldrums in bored rooms. (not a typo, those board meeting could make an insomniac snore in a matter of minutes) The weapons they carry into battle are briefcases filled with documents and battle plans. They use money as their motive and they wave flags of corporate logo’s. They sneak silently into our lives and disrupt them under our noses and we may not even know they’re there until they foreclose on our home, or audit our taxes, or just remove our ability to feed, clothe, and raise our families by annihilating our savings. And they do it with a smile, often even a smirk. They may not all be out to destroy our financial institutions but suits have become a symbol of corporate greed in the war against humanity and I don’t want anyone like that at my funeral. So if you’re coming to my funeral keep in mind it’s a celebration of my life and put on a tee shirt, a pair of jeans, shorts if its hot enough, let your hair sown, sing and dance and drink and indulge in whatever makes you happy, but leave your suits at home, there are no battles to be waged at a celebration of life…. PEACE

Samsung and Da-Liar (episode 3) Parental Advisory, rated IA Immature Adult

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Da-Liar

Sexual Healing (Afternoon Delight)
Da-Liar was a manipulative and underhanded bitch to put it as nicely as possible. Her love of sex was outdone only by her love of money and power. Her specialty was spinning men’s heads (both!) rendering them senseless wrapped around her sensuous fingertips. Da-Liar enjoyed using her uncanny ability of teasing the male libido to heights previously unexplored. She employed near torturous techniques of bring them to the very brink of orgasmic explosion only to slow it down and tease some more. When the moment arrived when they could hold on longer they’d be willing to anything at all for her in exchange for sexual release. Da-Liar had men do things to various parts of her body they would have flatly refused of any other woman. Her skill level at sexual pleasing was legendary and any man or women foolish enough to get caught in her vaginal web hadn’t a prayer of escape and would most certainly hand over all their worldly goods and most of their unworldly. Trophies she had many, golden chariots, designer cloths, jewelry, gold coins, nearly anything she desired she could extract easily. Great Goddess Madonna she was living in a material world and she was the material Girl.
Da-Liar had her eye on Samsung from that very first meeting when her sister gave her ten dollars to go away. She pocketed the cash and spied on the two lovers who snuck off into the woods. Da-Liar stared at that beautiful hunk of an Israelite as he pumped away on top of her sister. When she caught a glimpse of his eye popping ginormous erection she even blushed. “My god almighty the things I could do with that maypole.” She wished it were her underneath the muscular sex machine and she touched herself ever so sensuously when he started doing his slo-motion push ups that had Semedar singing that loud lovers tune “Fuck Me Hard Samsung.” Da-Liar watched everything very intently taking special note of how mesmerized and vulnerable Samsung became when her sister filled her mouth and continued the tune in a harmonic humming chourus.
She also took notice of his long and luxurious blond locks. Maybe he was born with it, maybe it was Maybeline but either way his hair was fucking gorgeous. Da-Liar watched the bulging arms caress his sister and she knew one day her chance would come. And it had, even better than he expected. Not only had she planted the seeds of desire with her catty antics and feigning trustworthiness, but those antics had banned her sister slyly removing her from Samsung. On top of that she would soon be approached by King Davy’s team with even more motivation. The promise of flat screen TVs, top of the line chariots, jewelry and bags of gold to make her wealthy beyond her dreams would that would prove too hard to resist. It wasn’t long before the band of Philly-Steens approached her.
Opportunity was at hand (and foot, mouth, and every other anatomically correct body part). Semedar had been exiled in shame and the burly sex machine with his ripped muscles were lonely, hurt, and vulnerable. Semedar had shredded his gears and Da-Liar was the one who knew just what to do to crank them back up.
Da-Liar was approached by three henchmen of the infuriated King Davy Jones. Mickey, Mike, and Peter jumped the last train to Clarksville to meet with Da-Liar. The Philly-Steen Kingdom had strong tenets and they questioned whether or not she was a believer. “Oh I’m a believer all right, I believe in silver, gold, and diamonds. Exactly what is it you want from me?” Mickey spoke up, “There is much talk of this Samsung coming up with revolutionary concepts that will destroy our kingdom. He has already murdered many of our people and we need to stop him. There is a rumor that he has a secret weakness and we will pay handsomely for the information.” Da-Liar considered her options and believed she already knew his weakness but she decided the challenge would be exciting. “Oh I shall surely find your secret for you I’ll start investigating in the morning” Look out,….Here comes tomorrow.
Da-Liar made good on her promise when finding Samsung alone in the woods where they first met. She knew he went there when he needed to be alone and she would make sure to put a smile on both their faces. “Samsung, I hoped you would be here. I feel so horrible about what happened to you. Are you okay? Maybe I can help” She took his hands and peered tenderly into his sad eyes as he weakly replied, “I don’t think there is anything you can do Da-Liar. It just hurts me so much. How could Semedar do this to me?” Not skipping a beat Da-Liar reached down to his not yet bulging loincloth and went right to work on the horny hunk. In an instant she got his eyes to light up and the blood to rush to his heads by adjusting his pistons in just the right position. Da-Liar lowered her voice to her sexiest best as she glanced alluringly into his eyes, “Oh I am certain I can help you Samsung, if you just give me a chance.” With that she bent down and showed Samsung how much better she was at satisfying than her sister was. Samsung was speechless but made many unintelligible sounds. True to her calling Da-Liar successfully entranced the passion charged curly haired hunk by the curly hairs and captured his heart and soul luring him once again from his home to hers. I’m sure glad it wasn’t me who had to tell Mother Raven he was leaving the nest once again into the bed of the sultry Philly-Steen.
TBC

Searching For The Lost Ark

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ark-covenant_24751_600x450

Lost? Are you kidding me, the bitches stole that Ark
Raiders of the lost ark, the ark of the covenant. A piece of religious artifact so important and so powerful I sit in awe wondering how the fuck do you even lose something so precious? Did someone put it down somewhere and forget where they left it? Perhaps it was placed in someone else’s chariot by mistake? Did someone actually grab the wrong ark, one that looked similar. What if we look in the cusions of a very large couch? Or was that shit stolen? Its not the lost ark of the covenant it’s the stolen ark, and its nowhere to be seen because lets face it….Where the hell do you fence something like the ten commandments etched in stone and Torah scrolls? That’s one big ass haul but who can you sell it to?
So I’ve been mistaken for many years because as it turns out the lost ark isn’t Noah’s animal filled floating zoo but some kind of a box filled with religious stuff. My guess is that maybe it was an early Christian suggestion box or something. I expect it’d be filled with papers asking for shit like cushioned pews, refreshments in the confessionals, maybe some cool pictures in the bible, hymns with a better rock beat, and red vodka to replace the cheap wine at communion. That’s the sort of suggestions I’d make anyway. But back to this “lost” artifact. The story goes that the ark is a like a treasure chest filled with the actual stone tablets which the 10 commandments were etched in. It also contains Aarons rod, which it turns out is not Moses brothers porno flick but an actual walking rod owned by his brother said to have miraculous powers, a jar of Manna (an edible food kinda like an Israelite Slim Jim), and the first Torah scroll. Aside from the Slim Jim things these sound pretty important. You’d think exceptional care would be taken with this chest.
Of course that’s not the case, the Ark of the Covenant was either lost or stolen but the prudent thing to do is retrace its steps. The Israelites carried the ark around as they “Wandered about” for some forty odd years trying to locate the Promised Land. No GPS back then but still, lost for forty years? Maybe they should’ve stopped and asked for directions but guess who was in charge of driving? A man of course! When they did finally get it to Jericho they paraded the Ark around the city for seven days like they were rubbing it in the faces of the Jerichonians. However, when Benjamin defeated the Israelites he took the Ark from them. Here’s when things get a little dodgy. The Ark apparently exchanged hands between the Philistines and the Israelites a few times both claiming ownership at one time or another. And as if that shit wasn’t complicated enough some knock off Arks began showing up which looked remarkably similar to the original and were sold on the Lower Eat Side of the Fertile Crescent.
The last known authentic sighting of the Ark was in Solomon’s Temple atop ole Mount Zion. But Nebuchadnezzar came to town and wise old Solly got his ass kicked by the Babylonians who took over ownership. That’s where we completely lose track of it for ages.
Now of course something so intriguing would lead to much speculation. Like the modern UFO sighting craze the ark even has its own Area 51 and assorted plausible locations boasting of its existence. It may be buried in a cave at Mount Nebo as the Jordanians claim, or hidden away in Ethiopia being guarded by ganga crazed Rastafarians, or it could be in the Dubhe mountains in Zimbabwe where the locals call the chest “The Voice Of God.”
Even Europe gets into the act claiming it was taken and protected by The Knights Templar and resides now at an undisclosed location in the south of France, or in Rome at the basilica of St. John. Maybe the freemasons or the Illuminati have it stashed away inside The Dan Brown library or some pyramid with a giant all seeing eye in it. Even Britain, Scotland and Ireland lay claims of ark sightings answering to the ornate chests description stashed away in the mountains of the UK. But we know where it really is, in a Hollywood lot along with hundreds of other arks.
Videotape evidence is indisputable and they had no security cameras back in the ancient times. In fact they had no cameras at all and had to rely on sketch artists who were mediocre at best. I have seen with my own eyes footage of Indy Jones finding the original hiding place in Cairo, surrounded by snakes. Clearly the most plausible explanation is this. Nebuchadnezzar kicked ass and took names, and in the confusion the ark of the covenant was taken back to Babylon. It seems Nebby had his ass kicked a few years earlier in Egypt, where he lost a lot of Babylon’s wealth and the respect of most of his followers. In an effort to regain his peoples admiration he destroyed the temple of Solomon then forged a deal with Pharaoh Hophra who took possession of the ark in exchange for all the shit he stole when he kicked Nebby‘s butt a few years back. The Pharaoh hid the ark in a sort of tomb overrun with mean poisonous snakes (yea, I hate them too) and a strange set of rituals combined with perfect timing of the sun as a code to reveal its resting place.
Fast forward to 1936 when Indiana Jones begins a quest to find the ark before the Nazi’s get their hands on it. Suffice to say when the Ark is finally opened its revealed that the stone tablets and the scroll have turned to sand (its been a long time and even the Slim Jims didn’t make it) What remnants were leftover were cleverly edited to became some great footage of really cool special effects. Long story short there was nothing left inside that miraculous chest but the sand but at least Adolf doesn’t have it and we think we know where it is. In the final scene of the Raiders of The Lost Ark the ark is placed in a warehouse, or more accurately a Hollywood studio lot along with crates and crates of knock offs. So that’s where The Ark Of The Covenant resides today thanks to the efforts of Steven Spielberg and Paramount studios. In the end it was never really lost , just misplaced for a few thousand years…..PEACE

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Searching For Uncle Goatleg

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8777469-biker-on-motorcycle-vector-illustration

A Goat Bt Any Other Name
My first brush with the law, and my Dad has to come pick me up . Funny thing is my old man looks more like a criminal than I do. I’m being raised by a hippie tree hugging father and a step Mom who’s not quite so liberal. Dad used to ride Harleys, smoke pot, and was as he puts it, “a bit of a rouge” Tonight my rebel Dad comes to pick me up from the cop station in a beat up VW. Plus I have a feeling he was no stranger to cop stations back in his day.
Once we were out of the precinct parking lot he asked me in his calm voice what happened. I explained it all, how we were smoking a joint before the dance at the High school and the cops came running over. Not finding anything they searched us all and I was holding rolling papers so they took me to the precinct for possessing drug paraphernalia on school property. Straight away he gave me the like it or not its still illegal lecture, and the not ever on or near school property thing. We drove in silence after the lecture for two minutes until he said, “Paraphernalia? Rolling papers? Are they fucking kidding? “ The two of us laughed and my old man ran off some of his cop jokes, like someone stole the toilet from the cop station and they have nothing to go on, or he points to the back seat and says he picked up a dozen donuts in case I was in serious trouble. He always admitted he felt pot should be legal like alcohol even though he doesn’t smoke it anymore. That is he says he doesn’t smoke but I have my suspicions, every once in a while I feel like my stash is light a few bowls. Either way my old man wasn’t a big fan of cops busting kids for having fun.
When we got a block away from home and he said, “I’m gonna have to act all mad at home cuz I gotta at least pretend to be a responsible adult and Jenny will be expecting me to ground you. I’ll need to issue some form of punishment your step Mom will think that’s important but I mean fucking A, rolling papers is a fucking crime now? Look I get it Ian, it seems unfair. In fact is unfair, but that’s how the games of the establishment are played little cool man, you don’t try to beat the law, you wrangle around it. You gotta fool them at their own game. Give them enough of what they want and let them think they have the upper hand. If you fight them they just use stronger punishment, that’s their warped mentality, to punish you harshly until you break. So here’s what I’m gonna do. I am gonna tell Jenny that you just made a small mistake because you were unaware of the consequences of smoking marijuana. You haven’t committed any bad crime and no one got hurt and education will work better than punishment. So you will write me a four page report, two pages on the physiological consequences, and two pages on the consequences marijuana can have on society. That way you will learn the err of your ways!” That man was a fucking genius!
We drove home and I went straight to my room. Dad explained to Jenny what was up and downplayed the incident. She apparently agreed that the report would be the best punishment and so it was set. He used that report when he and I had to go in front of the town board and they were so impressed they dropped the charge and expunged my record completely. Man I really adored that man. He could spin a story like nobody’s business. So I knew that night when he came into my room to talk about the whole situation it was a perfect time to distract him by asking him about his youth. He loves talking about his younger days in the “turbulent sixties.“ One character in particular I had always wanted to know more about was his best friend. I only met him a few times when I was young but Pops tells me he came over all the time when I was a baby. I didn’t remember that and I don’t even know his real name. My big sister and I just called him “Uncle Goatleg”. That alone had to be a good story.
“Hey Pops, I know this was a stupid thing I did. You’ve always been so honest with me and I know you smoked back in your day, but whenever I think about what it must have been like for you growing up the one name that keeps coming to my mind is Uncle Goatleg. All I remember about him is this really nice guy with long hair and a very long beard. I remember you were always happy when he was around and I figure you call him Goatleg because of his limp. I assume it was caused by a motorcycle accident or something cause I vaguely remember you and him having motorcycles and giving me and Molly rides wearing football helmets. What was his real name and what was he like?” I could see a huge smile on my dads face as he reminisced. Uncle Goatleg was as tall as my dad, and just as muscular. Maybe even a little more. He had very thick curly reddish brown hair that danced over his shoulders. My dad always had a short beard, but Goatlegs chinstrap was quite long. The full rust colored hair sprouted from his chin and went clear down to the middle of his chest. The hair on his face was so thick I can’t say for sure if he even had lips. Santa would have been jealous at how beautiful that beard was. Like I said, he has a bit of a limp, and he walked with the assistance of the coolest walking stick I’d ever seen. A dark red hardwood cane. Around the cane was carved the most magnificent black and yellow cobra snake with the head right at the handle so he could hold his hand inside the snakes mouth. I recall the detail of the snake as almost mesmerizing, the tiny scales, the flared head and sharp teeth were kind of menacing and I’m sure I stared at it every time he came over. Without really ever knowing Uncle Goatleg I admired him greatly and wished he had come around more often.
“Oh wow, uncle Goatleg. I’m surprised you remember him. His biker name was Redbeard but his real name was Kevin. He injured his leg in a motorcycle accident. Yeah, he and I rode together a few years before I had to sell my bike. Kev had a gorgeous tricked out Harley shovelhead. What a beautiful bike. Me and Kevin go all the way back to kindergarten where we got into a fistfight over a toy truck. It was the first fight for both of us and we got sent to the principals office. While waiting, we glared each other down still pissed, and then Kevin says “I hear the principal looks like a grasshopper. A fat bald grasshopper.” I broke out laughing and we both making cricket noises and acted the fools. Became best friends instantly an learned we only lived three blocks away. Stayed best friends until he left. We did everything together rode bicycles, went to the beach, dances, girls, rock concerts, everything. We were together all the time just about all the way through school. We even learned to drive in the same car, your Uncle Jack’s Barracuda. When the time came we went to buy our first motorcycles at the same place.” I wasn’t sure what I wanted to hear more, the story of their friendship or the story of why Uncle Goatleg left but I opted for the latter. “When did he leave and where did he go? Why did he go? Did he ride away on his bike? Do you know where he is now?” Pops chuckled, “Slow down son, it’s a bit of a story. Let me get us something to drink.” As he got up he smiled and his chuckling voice trailed off, “Always with a million questions Ian.”
When he came back a few minutes later he had a large mug of beer for himself and a soda for me. “Hey, can I have a beer?” I got the you know better than that look as he smiled. “Not this time Ian, but someday soon we’ll share a few. Right now I’m gonna tell you about your Uncle Goatleg. Actually you gave him that name.” I perked up instantly. “Me?? How did I do that?” Dad took a long swig of his beer, “One time he came over and you were like two and a half years old. You were full of questions even back then. You asked him over and over what happened to his leg, why does he limp, was it from the motorcycle, non stop questions. Kevin laughed and rolled up his pant leg to show you his disfigured and scarred leg. You said ’Ew gross, it looks like a goats foot.’ We laughed our asses off and then he roared, ‘Yea Ian, Uncle Goatleg, that’s my name. I’m your Uncle Goatleg.’ Every time he came over we called him Uncle Goatleg. You and your sister are the only two people in the world he’s let call him that. He got a real kick out of that. Anyway, as I was saying, Kevin and I rode bikes together for a while but he was much more serious about biking and eventually took to hanging out at bars that outlaw bikers went to. The Heathens Motorcycle Club which is the second biggest MC group on the east coast. The main rivals of The hells Angels. Eventually Kevin was asked to become a member and he jumped at the chance. I went with him a few times to the Heathens bar and it was very scary. They got into fights over things like ’you breathed on me‘, or ‘you looked at my beer.’ Dangerous crowd they were very violent. Being an outsider I was a target so I told him I couldn’t come around anymore. He understood but that was the life he wanted and he lived it. We saw less and less of each other, Goatleg always with his MC gang. I had to sell my bike and wasn’t interested in hanging out with The Heathens. I’m a lover not a fighter. I would read stories in the papers of major brawls between them and rival clubs and he would stop by from time to time and give me the inside scoop. Then one night in 86 or so, he stops by the restaurant I was working at and tells me he has a huge problem and needs help. He has to get out of town and disappear forever. I was stunned and we went outside to talk. He lifted up his leather jacket and shirt to show me his right side. It was one giant black, blue, and red bruise and I was like holy shit Kev, what the Hell; happened? Well in typical Kevin style, he made the big mistake of banging one of the other bikers mama’s. But not just any bikers babe, he nailed the mama of the president of his chapter. He was beaten by near everyone in the club with fists and pool sticks and thrown out of the bar. Everyone took shots at him except the president. Seems he wants Kevin either dead or really suffering and was gonna take care of business himself. So Kev was a marked man. After work I went to an ATM, took out as much cash as I could and made him promise to let me know where he is. He said ‘can’t do that bro, it will put you in danger. And your kids. Can’t do that to Ian and Molly.’ These fuckers mean business and they’ll fuck over anyone what knows me. Just gotta split man, that’s all.’ They won’t rest until they kill him so he left and went underground. I moved shortly after that and neither of us has any idea where the other ended up. I think about him all the time.”
I gotta tell ya, I was pretty blown away. As I absorbed the story I had one last question, “so you have no idea where he went? Not even a clue? Or a name he might use? You know we can find out a lot of shit on the internet, maybe we could do a search?” (So maybe it was more than one question, that’s my nature) Pops smiled at me, “Sometimes Ian, things are left behind because they are supposed to stay in the past. As much as I miss Kevin I am not sure finding him would be the best thing for him.” I was taken aback. “Him? What about you Dad? Don’t you think you deserve at least a thanks? Or a hello? A postcard, or I don’t know,….something!?” I hated when he seemed like King fucking Solomon but he gave me his Zen smile and in his voice of reason explained. “Any contact could put us all in danger Ian. My brother needed my help and needed it without question or condition. Maybe its forgotten and maybe not, but when you love someone there are times when you must sacrifice your own personal feelings for the good of the one you love. And I love your Uncle Goatleg, we’re blood brothers forever, we pinky swore in blood and everything. Forever connected even if its in memory only. I know how much he appreciated what I did for him and he would have done the same for me in a heartbeat. The truth is I have heard bits and pieces of Kevin’s life but over the years I’ve learned that sometimes things from the past should just stay there. Life isn’t always easy son.” That wasn’t good enough for me, “What exactly have you heard about Uncle Goatleg?” Dad shook his head in mock frustration, “ I hear tell he headed down to Florida and is living a happy quiet life somewhere near a town called Palm Coast. I hope he is and I hope he‘s happy and we should just leave it at that.”
The wheels began spinning in my brain. My best friend Eugene has an aunt who lives in Flagler Beach, which as it turns out is only about ten miles from Palm Coast. I was graduating high school in June, and me and Huge were going on a short one month vacation somewhere. We weren’t sure where we wanted to go but we knew we needed to get away. Now I knew exactly where we would spend our vacation. Flagler Beach and Palm Coast here we come!

Samsung And Da-Liar pt2..(A Sick Bastards Bible Selection)

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Samson_Jawbone

A Lion In The Streets But A Wildcat In The Sheets

As a young adult Samsung was the strongest, smartest, and to hear the fair maidens tell it the most well hung man in town. He was being raised by Raven who harbored vengeance in her heart and did her best to fill Samsungs up with anger as well. It wasn’t enough that the ugly and smelly Philly-Steens imprisoned them but one of the church leaders, Mike Duggle-Ass often had Raven brought to his quarters against her will where he performed a variety of sex acts with her. He made her exchange oral pleasures over and over for hours at a time. Her only solace is in knowing she had given him throat cancer.
So it was much more than mere anger it quite literally went much deeper than that. Raven had Samsung trained with a Hattori Hanzo sword, sent him to Crouching Tiger Shulman’s Hidden Dragon Ninja Academy, and study Patton’s Home Correspondence Battle Training Course in his spare time. Raven had fashioned a skilled and very adept lean mean killing machine. His only weakness was being a man easily manipulated by his third leg.
Samsung was also very intelligent and graduated magma cum loudly of Canaanite U, majoring in telecommunications. (which at that time was the donkey express) He knew he would one day find a better solution to information gathering but first and foremost he must set out to avenge his people. He set out on his ass (The donkey) to find a way to free the Israelites, who have a predestined love of all things free. While traveling he met a Philly-Steen hottie named Semedar walking with her younger sister Da-Liar. After a fair amount of flirting with both ladies he got off his ass and gave Semedar his most charming eye flirt and said, “I think I’ll invent a new alphabet so I can put U and I together.” Obviously just as smitten the sultry Semedar smiled seductively, gently traced her finger down his chest barely brushing her hand across his groin and answered, “Why don’t you just put the U in Me instead.” She parted her thick lips ever so suggestively and allowed her pink moist tongue to reveal her intention.
Sparks flew. No literally, I mean real sparks were coming from Samsungs cellular region as it rose to the occasion instantly. His LAN was on fire and Semedar was the server of choice. His sexual wiring was shorting out sending messages everywhere. The sultry and very horny Semedar gave her sister Da-Liar ten bucks and sent her off to town so the two hopeful lovers could allow the sparks to bring each other to a satisfying conclusion.
The two lovers found a perfect spot in the forest and went at it with all the energy his mother and biological father had on that fateful night on which he was conceived. The huffed and puffed and puffed and huffed and each brought new and exciting techniques to the sensual explosion. When they were finished the ridiculously satisfied Samsung couldn’t stop singing her praises and asked her right there on the G spot if she would marry him. Nary a second of hesitation wasted the beautiful Semedar still feeling the warm blood flow everywhere accepted his vow of love and sealed it with a slurp. The two became engaged and made love once more to celebrate. Now the hard part, time to tell both families about the unity of an Israelite and a Philly-Steen.
Raven and Manoah were extremely unhappy with the news and Raven warned Samsung that consorting with the Philly-Steens would bring him only heartache an displeasure. Pleasure was the reason Samsung had become betrothed to begin with so he cleverly convinced her it was part of the higher powers plan for him to marry the sexy Philly-Steen. He announced that his intentions were as stiff as his……never mind, his intention was solid. Being a Nazirite he felt compelled to ask Semedar’s father for her hand in marriage and he set off to do just that.
He jumped on his ass (donkey again) and headed out as fast as the stubborn burro would bounce. Two hours and two days later the ass lazily limped to a clearing just outside of Boldface, the town of his sultry fiancé. There he would practice what he would say when he met Semedars father Bob Barian. Bob Barian was actually Semedars step father who was a warped, frustrated old man. He lost the sight of his right eye during a battle with the Huns when Attila himself reached into Bob Barians eye socket, yanked out his eyeball threw it at Bobs feet saying “You see where you stand?“ before laughing and squishing it into the ground. Not a single one of his slaves lifted a hand to help him and many even snickered and made Cyclops jokes. He became a more ruthless and vindictive slave-owner after that and he was all too aware that a stinking Israelite was on the way to ask for his daughters hand thanks to a heads up from his daughter Da-Liar. Bob Barian was even less enthusiastic about the union than Raven was. In an attempt to avoid having the entire race of Philly-Steens making him the laughing stock of the Fertile Crescent for being a slaves father in law he bought a lion from the Coliseum of Rome to slay the hapless Hebrew. He got a good rate on an aging lion that had killed over 50 Christians which had acquired quite a reputation. It was said the old but fierce feline had not a sliver of fear or humility. In fact the carnivorous cat had swallowed his pride, each and every member. He turned the bloodthirsty lion loose in the path where Samsung would surely be and assumed that would be the last he would hear of the Israelite again..
Samsung rested in the clearing because his ass was sore.(the donkey again) It was tired from all the walking and in pain so they stopped to give his asses a rest. His thoughts wandered to the sexually charged encounter he and Semedar had and the ones they would have in the future and the only thing on his mind now was copulation. His hand involuntarily began a soothing feel good massage as he day dreamed about his carnal desires when a strange noise broke his concentration. First he heard the gentle rustling of leaves but it was followed quickly by a loud ferocious roar. He remove his hand from his loincloth in alarm. A lion attack? Holy shit! His first inclination was to get his ass outta there (this time his!) There wasn’t enough time because old as the lion was it still had a lot of zip in its hip and came charging at Samsung with killing in it’s eyes and heart. Samsung having to react quickly grabbed his ass by its jawbone (you figure it out) and ripped it clean off its head. He then took that old jawbone and cracked it across the head of the charging cat killing it in one swift chop. The adrenalin rush from the fear compounded from his daily steroid shot was still raging and he tore the lion apart with his bare hands.
I wish you could have seen the face of Bob Barian go from smirking smile to frightened shock as he witnessed Samsung toss the gruesome shredded carcass at his feet. Eyes still wild and bugging out of his head Samsung looked Bobby Boy directly in his good eye and said, “I came here to ask you for your daughters hand in marriage but now with this lion carcass as a show of my worthiness I will insist we marry and our love will bond!” Shaken but not stirred the mean mister Barian agreed immediately. He would have agreed to just about anything at that point with Samsung staring at his good eye with wild rage and lions blood still dripping from his hands. There was little he could do the marriage was set. De-Liar had also witnessed the incident with a tingling in her slightly damp groin paying particular notice of how Sammy bulged as well. Instinctively she knew what his weakest link was, or at least she thought she did. To herself she mumbled, “One day Sammy boy, I will use that divine rod to coax you away from my bitch sister and you‘ll moisten only my lips. (your choice)
The wedding was epic. Israelites in formal chains on the grooms side, all the ostentatious Philly-Steens on the brides side. Senedar had 30 groomsmen who took care of her wardrobe and make up. Samsung decided to tease them thinking them to be stupid gay Philly-Steens. “If any among you can figure out my riddle, I shall give you a fine Italian suit in the color of your choice.” The groomsmen were all fashionista’s so of course were intrigued. Samsung had no intention of allowing them to figure out his riddle.” If two Roman chariots collided on the border of England and Persia in which country would survivors be buried?” The slow witted groomsmen scratched their heads and struggled for hours in moral and ethic debates and the legal ramifications of responsibility not a single one realizing the easy answer. Da-Liar knew the answer and told the groomsmen that survivors don’t get buried on the condition they tell him Semedar gave them the solution. Each one went to Samsung and answered his riddle demanding a tailored suit from Italy. Infuriated Samsung promised he would fulfill his obligation in a week. He asked them how they figured it out and as promised they told him Semedar had given them the answer. Samsung was crushed by the betrayal.
For the first time the sex between Samsung and Senedar was unsatisfying because only one of Sams heads was into it. He was clearly pre occupied but lied that he was only deciding where to get the 30 suits. His pain turned to anger over her revealing the answer to the groomsmen putting him in such a shitty position. Semedar was sexually frustrated and unsatisfied too so as soon as Samsung left to get the suits she snuck into the bedroom of her secret lovers. Yes that’s right, its not a typo this time, she had multiple lovers. She slept with four of her Philly-Steen neighbors getting attention from all four simultaneously. Da-Liar promised she would warn Semedar if her new husband came home so the fivesome went at it with unequalled enthusiasm. Reverse cowgirl, motor boating, jack hammering, the ninja vacuum, the bus ride, they even Sutra’d the Kama out of each other one chapter at a time. The moans and groans could be heard throughout the entire hall.

Totally unaware of his back stabbing brides infidelity Samsung set out to keep his promise. He decided to kill two birds with one stone so he went into town and found 30 well dressed Philly-Steens who he easily slaughtered then took their clothing. He went back to Semedars home three days earlier than expected with the dead men’s suits and dropped them off. He explained to he couldn’t get a plaid suit because dead men don’t wear plaid and none of the contributors wore pink suits. It was as if he were bragging about something. He dropped off all the suits, many of which still had blood stains on them. Then as he walked down the hall he saw Da-Liar who stopped him and whispered, “I love my sister but I can’t bear to see this happen to you. I’m sorry Samsung but she’s in the room at the end of the hall. That’s when he heard the familiar sounding moans. “Semedar?” Samsung broke into the bedroom finding his bride in what could only be described as the final scene from the popular porno flick “Romancing The Bone.” Four Philly-Steen men simultaneously pleasuring his wife in one place or another.(The ear thing was kinda creepy) He grabbed his sword and cut off all eight of the four men’s heads turning to Semedar, “I think I’ll be going back home now. I’ve murdered enough stinking Philly-Steens for one day.” He left her stunned in a room full of bloody body parts while Da-Liar secretly watched it all unfold with a smile.
Samsung went home to his Mom and Dad crying. Raven wanted badly to say “I told you so”, but opted to wait for another time. She made him a pot of chicken soup and enhanced it with more steroids than usual because “He looks like he hasn’t ha a roid in weeks” as she would put it. Things were not so hunky dory in Philly-Steen either. A warrant for Samsung was put out with a reward if taken alive. King Davey wanted to make a hard work slave of the murderous Israelite would be savior. He would employ any means necessary including using Da-Liar. He wanted Samsungs battery completely drained at any cost. Samsung had a price on his head.

Pool Hall Alumni

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All I Need To Know I Learned In The Poolhall

We got trouble. With a capital T and That rhymes with P and that stands for pool. I played a fair amount of pool in my day most of which was in my Misspent youth. Misspent Youth? That would suggest my childhood was squandered, idle, profitless, and wasted. Bullshit! Certainly not squandered I had a great many experiences and adventures and not idle, I spent much of the time with my heart racing in anticipation of childhood fantasy’s becoming real. Profitless? Please, I had two paper routes, worked as a stock boy in a deli and washed pots an pans in a restaurant before I was 16 so I made a good deal of profit. Of course I saved very little but I did put most of it back into the economy. I was supporting the tobacco industry, alcohol industry, record industry and whatever was left over supplied the mall with odd and end purchases. Wasted youth? Well ye if you mean I got wasted a lot in my youth yes but I didn’t waste my entire childhood I got a valuable education. But it wasn’t in school that I learned all I needed to know to survive, it was at the pool table.
Life’s most valuable lessons. The first time I stood at the table it was awe inspiring. A perfect symmetrically balanced rectangle with four corner pockets, two side pockets, and a smooth beautiful green felt top. On the western end of the table sat fifteen perfectly round numbered balls arranged in an equilateral triangle. Seven of those balls striped, and eight of them solid. But one solid ball stood out from the rest. Dead center of the triangle sat a most menacing looking black ball with the sign of infinity on it. Stunning. The east end of the table was where I stood, with a blank white ball with what looked like permanent light blue smudge scattered about it. This was my cue ball, as shiny as Mr. Cleans chrome dome of a head. I placed that white cue ball right on the dot which seemed like the proper place to begin. I would later learn I could in fact place it anywhere I desired behind that center marking. No worries, it was my first attempt anyway, I had a lot to learn. I stared down the table and looked at the triangle of balls. I knew what to do, I had watched many others play pool. I’d watched Minnesota Fats on TV too so I had a good idea how it was done. My brother showed me how to hold the stick and aim towards the balls. From there I was on my own. I pulled the stick way back, stared the white ball down, and let it fly as hard a I could. I hit that mother with all the strength a frustrated adolescent twelve year old should have. I took my sexual pent up frustrations out on that booming shot. The white ball took off like a space ship on warp speed and shot across the room in blissful arching trajectory. It searched for and found the wall with a loud crack, bounced three times on the floor and landed on a towel on the floor, effectively eliminating my shot as well as my dignity. Seemed as though the laughing would never subside. My first lesson? You can’t do precision work with a sledge hammer.
It takes finesse, something that also came in handy with the girls. The sledgehammer may look impressive, but a skilled worker makes the most of all his tools. In pool if you go too hard you end up scratching, but with the ladies if you try to hard you’ll en up all alone scratching your ass. So in life as well as pool its important to know how hard, or how easy to approach each opportunity. Don’t just start swinging your sledgehammer around everywhere trying to impress. It’s not how big your pool sick is it’s how you use it that makes you a winner. Judgment and charm baby! Don’t overcompensate, huge wheels on your pick up won’t make you a better driver. Finesse!
As the game went on I learned other valuable lessons. Like taking turns and only shooting when its your shot. Not only fair it keeps you from an ass kicking as well. Take someone else’s shot when they’re ready to sink a ball and be prepared to fight, guys are very possessive about their balls. Go for it when its your turn. Review the table and weighed your options. ! I see the 15 ball is sitting very close to the corner. I line up all my angles (Its geometry so pay attention in school) and let fly. A direct hit, the 15 ball smack dab into the corner pocket. Unfortunately the white ball liked the 15 so much it followed right behind and disappeared in the corner pocket as well. Lesson here was all about placement, you don’t want everyone watching your balls go in your pocket.
No need to be a bull in a china shop. Ease your way around the green felt table, don’t go bouncing your cue ball too hard, the balls may look sturdy, but they’re quite delicate. It seems I scratched again so now I wait.
When my turn came around again I surveyed the options again. The 12 ball was near the corner pocket but the 7 ball was blocking it slightly. If I went for the 12 I would have to figure out how to go around it. Hanging right at the side pocket was the 9 ball. I couldn’t hit it directly but it looked like if I tapped the 11 ball right it might roll into the 9 and knock it in. I opted for the side pocket keeping in mind how hard I hit the last one. A light tap into the11 and it slowly rolled over an nudged the 9 convincing it to fall head first into the side pocket. The 11 settled onto the cushion just beyond the side pocket and the cue ball just barely moved past where the 11 had formerly been. This left me with very few options for my next shot
This taught me style and finesse will help but its still important to look ahead. That young lady is real hot and sexy but if you don’t plan ahead how to make her happy she may end up against the cushion with someone else. You need to plan your future moves if you want a lasting relationship, I went for the lust. Now I‘m in a jam and if I thought ahead and hit it just a tad harder I would have lined myself up and maybe cleared my balls.
Basically what I learned at the pool table is if you want to get to Carnegie Hall take the E train to 7th Avenue an 57th, but if you want to sink your balls in the right pockets, you need to practice, practice, practice. Carefully aim you shots, never come on too strong, and once your in your groove go with the flow, cuz as your game goes on you get hotter and hotter.
One last thing…..beware of hustlers, there are plenty out there. They will make you think you play on the same level as they do, but when it comes down to getting what they want over what you want, they get suspiciously good at their craft.
Then again fuck it man, life’s a gamble…….. Rack em up!

America’s Got Lawyers (the changing game show culture)

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lawsuit

2-4-6-8- you’ll get rich if you litigate

There once was a man from my nation, who sought to get rich through slick litigation, no wrong had been done, but yet he still won….he made his fortune in false allegation.
Wanna get rich? Not through hard work or perseverance that the old school way not the new American way. You don’t need to work hard for your living or sleep your way to the top anymore, now its fashionable to sue your way to the top. That’s right folks, you too can become rich without working hard. And its perfectly legal. In fact, legal is how you do it. Frivolous litigation is the new American sport and courtrooms are the arena’s. It’s the ultimate get rich quick scheme. Find a dumb law or a common sende negligence and exploit it. You can burn your leg spilling hot coffee or sue them if its too cold to drink. Either way you win and you can sue someone’s ass off. With a slick lawyer you can even keep their ass in the settlement. You need not even hold on to said ass merely put it on e-bay and somewhere out there some ass collecting or ass kissing sucker will buy it. And you can build on your monetary empire with a little creativity. Maybe a new reality show starring you, “Are you smarter than my sheister lawyer?”

It’s a completion where the three judges, Judy, Wapner, and Milian wear actual robes and their word is final. Milian is the drama queen judge who no one can understand, Wapner is the “Nice judge” and of course Judy is the bitch who goes around notarizing tongues and STILL doesn’t believe anyone. The contestants can sue over anything as long as its frivolous or absurdly ridiculous and the winner gets a successful litigation reward in the millions.

First contestant, Buffet Betty burnt her tongue on hot food. But was it clearly marked as “extremely hot” of did it just warn as hot? The next contestant, Sassoon Sam, has a case against a hairdryer company. No where on the label, box, or even the hairdryer itself does it say “Do Not Use In Shower” yet still this man’s wife was electrocuted using their product while rinsing. Clearly negligent instructions! Our third contestant, Dry Cleaner Dude is here to sue a dry cleaners for 10 million dollars for losing his suit because it was his lucky suit and he was going to play lotto and win the 10 million. Forth and final contestant, Nerd Nick is suing a vodka company for false advertising because his party was not filled with beautiful and sexy women like their ad promises. Obvious false advertising if ever there was!

Round one two eliminations. After a round of questions by the presiding judges, it was discovered that the Sassoon Sam actually tossed the hair dryer in the shower while his estranged wife was showering and he was eliminated. The judges had a lot of laughs over this one as Sam wa led out in handcuffs. Next to go was Buffet Betty. While the food at the buffet was clearly not marked extremely hot, a waiter for the buffet company produced a phone picture of Betty heating the spoon of food directly over the flame of the sterno. The judges were not a amused this time and gave Betty a serious lecture before letting the Buffet company counter-sue for fraud.

Down to two contestants and it’s a close one. The Nerd Nic supplied lots of photos of his very lame looking party with the vodka everywhere. Not a sexy or even attractive female among his guests an clearly nothing even close to the advertisement.Her is looking like the fron-runner right now, Dry Cleaner Dude is gonna have to step it up now.DCD produced video proof that the ten million dollar winning lotto ticket was purchased at the store he always uses and indeed on at least five occassions was wearing the lucky suit. The final round begins.

First up is Nerd Nick who pleads his case showing much evidence but seems to be losing the judges favors. Wapner told him the party looked fun and he saw some people smiling, and the man reluctantly admitted people were happy, but claimed it was because they were drunk off their asses. Judy went for the jugular telling Nick he’s ugly himself so how does he expect anyone to want sex with him. EVER! The crowd boo’s its disapproval at Judy‘s meanness but she stares them down mumbling “the truth hurts.” It doesn’t look good for Nick an now all of a sudden and the crowd is tense.. Next Dry Cleaner Dude is up, and shows video evidence of him buying lotto tickets in the store wearing the suit in question. It was supplied by the store owner and it hard to refute video evidence. After a round of idiotic questions with Wapner and Milian everyone wonders why Milian is even there. Suddenly Dry Cleaner Dude looks in good shape for the win. Judy makes a comment about whether he could still fit into the suit because he looked much thinner in the videotape. The crowd really loves to hate this judge, but its still looking good for the dry cleaner dude.
Cannon Watercrest entertains the crowd with some cute popular anecdotes and the camera pans to the judges who all appear to be drinking from a cup clearly marked with the logo of their sponsor. Cannon tells a few more jokes and we go to the judges. Wapner is even friendlier than usual and claims both have a good case and he can’t decide. Milian adds nothing and were down to Judy who is slurring her accusations.

Judy awards Dry Cleaner Dude with ten million for losses because he proved his case of the missing suit, and admonished Nerd Nick for wasting the courts time instead of getting the judges wasted the way the vodka company had. It is revealed that in the clearly marked sponsor logo cups were filled with vodka supplied by the vodka’s parent company, a well known condom corporation with ties to the Vatican. Everyone laughs except Nerd Nick who brings a new suit against the television station, its writers, producers and key grip, as well as all three judges and their families who he accuses of conspiring. His effort to incriminate the studio audience was not considered frivolous enough because he did not include their firstborns, so he had to be happy with just that. But not as happy as his rich lawyers, who have now become wealthy and corrupt enough to enter politics…….PEACE

Shit My Dad Says (When He Trips On My Acid)

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Alan didn’t say a word. He opened the refrigerator, grabbed a can of beer, popped the top and walked out the door in silence. He got in his Volvo and sped off without ever looking back once. Somehow I knew he wouldn’t be coming back but I ran to the door hoping I was wrong as he pulled away. Sadie looked up from the sink, the sink that held her prisoner for the last eighteen years every evening after dinner. “What’s the matter Honey?” It was as though she hadn’t even noticed, “Where’d Dad go?” Sadie had a puzzled look on her face which gave way to a Stepford wife smile, “Oh he’s probably gone out to get some beer or cigarettes. I so wish he would quit smoking.” She looked up at the ceiling as if it was where life’s answers hid. Mom was clueless and I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.
Alan wasn’t going out for beer or for cigarettes. He was just going out, probably not certain himself what he was in search of. One thing I was certain of is my Mom and Dad would not be living the American Dream anymore. That dream began to crumple three days ago when he went out to mow the lawn. That’s when this whole sorry situation began. I know this because when I got back to my room I could tell Dad had been snooping and missing from my desk was the hit of LSD on a life saver. Holy savior on a stick Alan was getting fucked up!
Frantic at first I thought I had been busted by my old man but when I went outside to confront him about it I could tell. My dad is tripping on my Orange Sunshine. I studied his face as he alternated between laughing at the lawn and scowling at it then looking around confused. “Oh fuck, the lawn is communicating to my old man.” That’s when I knew it was all over.
The rest of the night was surreal. He couldn’t possibly have known what was going on and the shit spinning in his head had to be freaking him the fuck out! Nothing good would come of this. That was some powerful LSD and it was gonna take my fathers brain out and rearrange in ways he’ll never understand. He’ll see things that make no sense, and make sense of things he never noticed before. I wasn’t sure if I should just watch and enjoy or intervene somehow. Either way profound changes were in store for sure. I’ve heard many a story of people that flipped out and ended up in hospitals or bunt out for life because they were giving LSD without their knowledge. This didn’t seem to be the case here, Alan was digging it. He probably thought the grass clippings were messages from God and now his life has some obscure esoteric purpose. Tonight he is acting on whatever he believes those messages meant.

Samsung and Da-Liar (A sick bastards bible selection)

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s&d

Part 1

So the Israelites were really screwing up and the guy in charge was pissed. Not just casually pissed, but royally and unconditionally pissed off. The kind of pissed that goes way beyond the Thunderdome. Mad to the Max! Those ungrateful shits had to be punished so the apparition of an entity above decided they should become the slaves of the Steens of Philadelphia, better known as the Philly-Steens. The Philly-Steens were a formidable religious group who worshipped Baal and were enemies of Israelites They were ruled by King Davey Jones, a monarch that profited greatly through the use of slaves. The poor Israelites had no where to turn so they began to pray to the dude almighty who sat high above everyone. Or was that he sat above everyone while high? Whatev, they were desperate so they began to pray relentlessly.
“Please almighty authority figure, we know we fucked up big time but this king and his bitch are running us ragged and not giving us anything at all. The only feeding they do is to the lions like some damn Roman Emperor or something. We promise we will never again eat bacon and we will pray only to you the great and powerful wizard of God. You saved us once before and led us here and promised us freedom. Of course we walked and fought for years and years but when we finally got to the city of Jerum we were tired. One little fuck up and BAM, you enslave us to these Steens.” The big guy listened to this same thing day after day after day until he could take it no longer. “Okay, okay you relentless ungrateful bastards enough already. Yes you fucked up and I expect you to take your punishment like men. But noooo, you guys are always so damn whiny. Well I’m not gonna just set your asses free like that but here’s what I will do for you lazy ass mofo‘s. I will impregnate one of your ladies with a child who will grow up strong and single handedly not only destroy the Philly-Steens, but come up with a cell phone that will rival the forbidden Apple. This way I still get to watch you suffer for a while to ensure that next time I give you a command you follow it! Just please, please, please stop with your damn prayers every day, give it a rest once in a while.” With that the unseen ruler of all things ironically disappeared. Not totally stoked but happy to have something they took solace and went home to wait.
It didn’t take long at all. That is it didn’t take long for him to choose which maid he would fill to the brim with divine potent power sperm. It was in the suburb of Galaxy he went to fornicate himself up a child who would grow up to defeat the Philly-Steens and free his people once again. Wasn’t much of a surprise to anyone that he chose Manoah’s wife Raven as his sex partner and child begetter. As her name suggests Raven had dark inviting eyes and a beautiful flawless face surrounded by thick and luxurious onyx black hair. Without a hint of self consciousness she proudly wore low cut dresses giving more than a glimpse of her firm oversized breasts. These magnificent globes had eye magnets which drew every mans and most of the women’s eyes directly down to them. The large tantalizing breasts took to bouncing playfully and seductively all over town. It was rumored they could skip rope double dutch while drinking Dos Equis. They were real, and they were spectacular.
It took all the willpower this god had to keep from pre maturely spilling out his super-sperm over himself as he salaciously drooled over her erotic and exotic body. The long slit up her tight fitting dress revealed very sexy legs with perfectly formed calves ready for slaughter. Thighs smooth and svelte she had sensual legs that just wouldn’t quit. Her hips DID lie but everyone believed whatever they said. Manoah was the envy of every horny mammal within a hundred mile radius. The almighty spirit took Raven inside his lair and the two went at it all night long as Manoah moped in dejected silence. So seductive and skilled was she that the entire town could bear witness to Jehovah being heard screaming over and over, “Oh my fucking Raven!!” He had his rod and staff comforted in her loins thrice and left so much godsperm inside Ravens body remnants of the mighty swimming life-forces oozed out of every orifice they could find including a number of hair follicles. Some of the over zealous sperm cells even went airborne. There would be no doubt that Raven would be giving birth to a half human, half god child from this evening and they would name him Samsung.
Before leaving the satisfied Raven and the slightly pissed off Manoah the smiling Lord of Lumber instructed Raven to never consume alcohol again and if they wanted to be free they must promise to raise their son as a Nazirite. As a Nazirite he must follow a few simple rules. First, no alcohol, grapes, or vinegar, second never visit a grave or come in contact with a corpse, and lastly he was not allowed to cut his hair. In addition to these strange rules he had to follow a strict work out regimen and praise and obey the one and only true god. (Of which there were many to choose from).Manoah and Raven were to feed him a steady supply of protein drinks and steroids and were instructed to bring up the child with a regimen of intense exercise, combat training, and healthy eating habits. This handsome god/man would grow to be the strong and stealth warrior of the Israelites that was seduced and betrayed by a sexy Philly-Steen hussy. This then is where the legend known as Samsung of Galaxy and Da-Liar of Boldface begins.

A Weekend To Forget

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clo
Me and my droogs had just finished some moloko plus at the Milk Bar and had zero pretty polly in our wallets. “Oh my dear droogies methinks the hour has arrived for some ultra violence and some crasting to fill our pockets with kuppit. Lets go find Billy Boys gang and kick all four in the yarbles till the rich red krovvy runs from their rots. Then we’ll tolchock some vellochek and crast all his cutter so we can peet some more moloko.” All agreed and out out out we went into the night. Shortly we came across Billy Boy and his shaika of like gloopy moodges and the tolchoking began. So angry was your humble narrator that I pulled out my britvah and sliced old Billy boys yahzik and kicked his zoobies in. Sirens abounded and millicents in blue uniforms were everywhere. “Come along droogies, we don’t want to end up in Staja.”
Running away laughing all we were now having a real horrorshow time. Dim spoke up, “How abouts some of the old in and out with the devotchkas Alex?” Being a good leader I chose to agree and off we set to the suburbs. We came across a small cottage where resided a like older chelloveck and his beautiful zheena. We tricked him into allowing us entrance and I instructed Dim and the others to perform some ultr-violence on the chellovecks while I sodded the mans hot dama. With my panhandle in hand I did the old in and out whilst singing in the rain was sung by yours truly. I could hear the old chelloveck creeching in pain. Each of my droogs took their turns as I surveyed the cottage for cutter or goods to fence. Beethoven was playing on the record which made your truly smile, when suddenly I saw it! A Belgian ale name Defiant. I could like sense my droogies lubidubbing the pitsa as she creeched in a like poogly voice.
What a great weekend it was, fun times with friends, some sodding and groompy sex with a young sharp, and to top it off a bottle of delicious Defiant triple ale from Belgium. What a fantastic memorial day weekend. Well at least it was until your humble friend and narrator was arrested by the razz’s, put in prison and subjected to the Ludoviko Technique of aversion therapy which stripped me of my free will.