The Roast

A while back my friend EZ thought that it would be a good idea to have a roast in order to celebrate the fact that Blugstuff crossed the 50,000 hit mark. I agreed that it sounded like a great idea. I have never been one to take myself to seriously. Just look at the crap that I post. How could I take that seriously at all. Thanks to all that have submitted something for the Roast and go ahead and raise a little hell in the comment section. I can take it. I hope.

*****

Catch: Fuzz was in line at the Super Market when he notices a hot blonde behind him has just raised her hand and smiled hello to him.
He is stunned that such a hottie would be waving to him, and although familiar he can't place where he might know her from, so he says "sorry do you know me?"
She replies "I maybe mistaken, but I thought you might be the father of one of my children!"
His mind shoots back to the one and only time he has been unfaithful,
"Hey" he says "are you that stripper at my bachelor party that I had on the pool table in front of all my friends, while your partner whipped me with some wet celery and stuck a cucumber up my ass?"
"No" she replies, "I'm your son's English Teacher"

You guys all remember when Fuzz went on the school trip with the kids....I bet he dont go next year!!!

I have to raise my glass in a personal toast to my friend Fuzz. Your a good guy Fuzz...Im glad to have you for a friend. I love your sense of humor!!!
Now lets drink up so I can get to bed!!! Huggs to you Fuzz!..Your friend ~ Catch

*****
Michael: I wondered what I could possibly say about the man, myth and legend. Not knowing what the twisted bastard does for a living gave me a different idea.
This might not even be what he's looking for but fuck him, he asked for it.

Maybe Fuzz was a 911 operator?
Fuzz: 911. What's your emergency?
Woman: Please dear God, help me! My husband is choking on a chicken bone and I don't know what to do!
Fuzz: (provocatively) hmm, what are you wearing?
Nope. Definitely not a 911 operator.

Maybe he's a grade school teacher?
Prof. Fuzz: Alright class, settle down, settle down, sett - Shut up! You little fuckbubbles! (pause) That's better.
Now, I don't feel much like reading or writing or any of that algebra shit because I'm a bit pissed off. Some grey-haired shitball cut me off as I was pulling into the school parking lot. I don't know about you kids but boy, oh boy, it really frosted my ass.
I want to find out what frosts your stones so from now on Thursdays will be FOAD days, ok?
Susie Bumcakes: What does FOAD mean, Mr. Fuzz?
Prof. Fuzz: Oh, come on, Susie, you little 15 year old, MySpace.com tramp, it means Fuck Off And Die! Everyone knows that!
A school teacher? Ahhh, I don't think so.

How about a sculptor?
Fuzzangelo is working feverishly in his studio on the latest of his great works of art, works highly coveted by people all over the world. His beautiful and curvaceous wife walks in and takes in his latest creation.
"What do you think, my dear?" He asks.
"It looks like everything else you sculpt, Fuzzy," she answers.
"And what does that look like, my dear?"
"It's my ass, Fuzzy. And a very nice facsimile thereof. Looks like you're up to your eyeballs in ass and loving every minute of it."
Sculpting? Maybe not.

I decided to just accept the fact that a world without Fuzz just wouldn't be any damn fun at all. Actually, it would be quite boring. He is an original cowboy that marches to the beat of a very different drummer (though sometimes the drummer likes to drop multiple tabs of acid).
Whenever I visit Blugstuff I keep in mind that old boy scout motto: Be Prepared.
You never know what Fuzz has up his sleeve.
He's also one of my favorite bloggers and though we've never met, I almost consider him a brother.
Keep on rockin' in the free world, Fuzz.
The blogosphere would be lost without you.

*****

EZ

Fuzz is a wiz
He is a wiz because
Because because
Of all the blunderful things he does.

The young vixens flock
The old ladies stalk
For the stimulating talk
And occasional gawk

The guys come for the hunt of the turd
The pictures, the music, the word
The purvs show up to read the dirty bird

Guess what I just heard
Fuzz is the word
and he is my favorite turd

*****
Pure Evyl: Here is a little top five list.

The Top Five Reasons that Fuzz is a +50,000 hit blogger.

5. Search Terms: Does anyone think that you are going to get a lot of hits from subjects like babbling babies, cute puppies, or world fucking peace. If you do then you are sadly mistaken. No search terms that get the hits are on subjects of sickness and perversion. And with subjects ranging from transvestite strippers, geriatric sexplay, and on any other sick twisted deviant crap that one can dig from a polluted mind, Fuzz is a sick search term destination deluxe.

4. Diversity: Have you looked at the Blogroll. There are doctors, lawyers, sex therapists in training, business people, strippers, ex-strip club deejays, stay at home moms, and just about every profession around. The blogroll is comprised of just about every religion, ethnicity, geographical area, and even many people from around the world.

3. He's full of shit: If you comment on a post then it is a virtual guarentee that he will say something back. He might be nice but chances are he will have something smartass to say. And who doesn't like to hear a smartass when he is on top of his game.

2. The Ultimate Blogwhore: There is not an ass that he won't kiss for a hit.

1. One Word. Chupacabra!!!!

Breakfast At The Pole

Trudging home Christmas morning worn out and weary.
Santa was expecting a home warm and cheery.
But he got more than expected for there in his bed
Were three little elves cavorting with Mrs. Santa butt naked.

He shouted and fumed as he he broke out his gun.
You should have seen how those three shorties run.
Then he turned to Mrs. Clause and started to curse
Calling her names quite perverse.

Then he sank to the floor with his head on his chin
And calmly asked her how with elves, she could commit such a sin.
She slipped on her robe and sat down beside him
And explained how she came to be with them.

'So many nights I have sat bored and lonely as cold as a bone
As you delivered toys to the good boys and girls all alone.
So I invited some elves to play some Twister and I just couldn't stop.
It might have been the snap, or the crackle, but most likely it was the pop.'

Merry Whatever

Here at Blugstuff, there is absolutely no discrimination towards any race, creed, color, cult, national origin, religion, gender, sexual orientation, shoe size, eye color, or geograghical region. So here is a pic that I lifted off a fellow blogger, that just about covers it all.So from me to you whether you be Wiccan or Wiseass, whether you be Saint or Sinner, and no matter where you are from or whatever you call youself, I wish you a happy Christmas, Kwanzai, Hanakkuh, Bodha Day, Ramadan, Winter Solstice, and Festivus.

Checking The E-Mail

It has been awhile since I have done a Friday post but I have received an e-mail from a reader and I am sure that many readers might have had a similar problem.

Dear Fuzz,

I am writing to you in order to ask for your advice. Laying in bed spooning with my wife on a cold winters morning, she rattled a fart off of my leg. I called her a nasty bitch but now I am wondering if that was the proper response or if I should do something else.

Still Sickened

Dear Sickened,

A simple calling of a name and such an unoriginal curse is bound to leave you wanting a little payback. So give her the dutch oven treatment, elephant stamp her, and then sleep secure in the knowledge that you have responded correctly to such a crass affront to your dignity. But you might want to check all foodstuffs for poisons. Might I suggest a small dog and feed him from your plate before every meal to check for ill effects for a week or so.

Shitty TV

The other night I was having a hard time going to sleep and so I trudged into the living room at three in the morning and flipped on the tube. Since Angry Joyce was the last one watching the tube it was on a channel that invariably turns into paid programming in the wee hours of the morn.

I haven't seen any new infomercials in a while so I sat there and preceeded to learn about some fascinating new product. A good infomercial can make a person really desire to buy the most crappy product imaginable. The last one I watched that actually made me want to buy it was for a barbeque grill that ran off used newspaper. I didn't want to buy the product that I saw on this weeks insomniafest but it was a fucking trainwreck and I could not quit watching it.

The infomercial was for a product called Double Cleanse and it told the sorted story about how toxins, herbicides, pesticides, and hormones in today's food supply has clogged our innards and the path to better health, stamina, and vitality runs straight through the shitter. The infomercial went on to state that the average person walks around with 22 pounds of shit stacked in their intestines. Damn, that's like walking around with a small child in your guts packed up to your ass.

One of the inventors signature methods for describing how we can tell if we need cleansed was to ask if your bowel movements were the same in relation in size as an infants or small child. Now I am a father and changed a few diapers in my day and if I shit like my son in relation to my size, I would have a pile of dung that no industrial size toilet could ever flush in three tries. I am sorry but if that is what's needed, then no thanks. I will keep walking around full of shit. First of all it suits me and no one would ever recognize me otherwise and secondly if I had such an elephantine shit my bunghole would be sore for weeks.

So no Double Cleanse for me. I am keeping my shit to myself.

Santa's Favorite Elf

In a corner office in Santa's workshop
Works Santa's favorite elf non-stop.
From dawn to dusk making the toys
For the naughty girls and the happy boys.

She doesn't make cars, boats, or kites.
She doesn't make Barbies, Slinkies, or Lite-Brites.
She makes the toys that make the winter nights warm
With a sly little grin and a world of charm.

So if Santa brings something that makes your cheeks turn red
With a warm glow and a blush from your toes to your head.
It might not have came from an Adult Stores shelf,
You might want to thank Santa's Sex Toy Elf.

Ohh Shit Am I Supposed To Be Jolly

For the past 11 years I have realized just why the Grinch hated Christmas for the NOISE, NOISE, NOISE. He, like me, was forced to attend the annual School Christmas Concert. This year, the school has a new band director. I hate to be disparaging, but after the concert, I wouldn't mind too terribly seeing this man shot in the face with a fucking bazooka. I can tolerate most Christmas Carols, no matter how badly mangled. But a Christmas rap tune and a Negro Spiritual song sang by a bunch of junior crackers that have not an ounce of damned rhythm and lasts longer than a damned Led Zep tune? Give me a fucking break!!! And of course I had to sit through the whole freakin' thing since my boy is in the 5th grade beginning band. They have only been practicing since mid-September. Yeh, it was music to my ears just like the sounds of a couple of cats getting busy. The kicker to it all. The douchebag director decided to split the concert in two by doing the elementary kids one night and the Jr. High and High School bands later this week. Gee Thanks asshole, I hope no one goes postal and starts another school shooting and blasts that goofy Christmas tie off your fucking neck.

************
Does every commercial have to have a Christmas theme? Any day now, I expect to see a commercial for Yuletide Fresh Feminine Hygiene Spray with the tagline, ' Get your jollies with a coochie snorcher that smells like holly.'

************

Just a little note: I am now taking e-mails for a roast of your's truly. Send all disparaging remarks, parodies, poems, and trash talk of all kinds to fuzzbox_rox2000@yahoo.com.

The Hits

Come and gone 50,000 hits.
I never thought so many would click to see this shit.
Pin-ups, models, and risque pics reign
Useless drivel from my twisted brain.

I thank you all for coming to view
This site that exposes my thoughts askew.
For sharing some laughter and some rather gross jokes
For putting up with my rhymes that might go better with a quick toke.

Thanks for coming and the thoughts that you share.
Don't think for a minute that I do not care.
So come on back, I will be right here.
With a dollop of sickness and a dash of good cheer.

My Kind Of Joint

In Arizona an establishment that is reminiscent of the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup commercial has caught my attention. The Heart Attack Grill features real food fried in real lard with such favorites as the Quadruple Bypass Burger; a four patty mound of nutritional mayhem. But what really sets the place apart is the waitresses. Dressed as naughty nurses in cleavage bearing tops, high heels, and thigh high stockings some prudish nurses are complaining of the uniforms as an affront to their dignity. Personally I see not a thing wrong with the uniforms and there may be other professions that could be spotlighted to add a little zip to an eatery.

The Crazee Tastee Cafeteria - Dressed in Skin Tight uniforms, hair nets, and orthopedic shoes. The lunch ladies will cater to those with fantasies from their grade school past.

The Garage Grill - An eatery for the ladies, with greased up grease monkeys catering to their lubed up fantasies. It would probably work much better than a plumbers themed restaurant featuring food entrees to keep your pipes cleaned out and served by guys with the obligatory plumbers crack.

The Border Crossing Taqueria - Where if a waiter or waitress messes up, they are chased out by security guards dressed as Immigration agents. But make sure and take a shot of Pepto before going or you might get the runs.

Click here for the News Story of the Heart Attack Grill.

Old Mrs. Murphy

The Medic-Alert Dispatcher received the call.
'Mrs. Murphy, are you hurt? Did you fall.'
'Ohh God, Ohh Jesus, Ohh Yes,' was the only reply.
So the dispatcher called the ambulance and told them to fly.

The ambulance drivers called through the door.
'Are you hurt, can you get off the floor.'
With the screams and the moans of a woman in pain,
The drivers busted the door for entrance to gain.

What they saw there made them gasp and groan
Old Man Withers had Mrs. Murphy bent over and was driving his bone.
Her ass in the air as she give it a wiggle.
Even her moles were giving a jiggle.

Her in stockings and garter.
Him with an oversized goiter.
To the drivers it seemed like the ultimate folly,
But the old timers seemed to be getting their jollies.

Their hearing aids out they heard not a peep.
So the drivers backed out at the quietest creep.
This tale could have been different on a different tack,
The surprise could have given the seniors a heart attack.

So for safety's sake, here's a word to your granny.
Before getting jiggy, with your naked ass fanny.
Keep your Medic-Alert bracelet on the bed post and handy.
Not on your wrist, things get wild when the old folks get randy.

Merry Christmastime Damnit

I have always loved Christmastime. In fact, I find myself singing Christmas tunes all your long ( much to the disgust of Angry Joyce). But now that we recieved our first significant snowfall in the past two years, it really feels like Christmas. The cactus in my parents front yard makes for a great looking Christmas tree and the Christmas cactus in my bedroom is blooming wonderfully. This weekend the halls will be decked and the tree will be trimmed. Soon Christmas will be in full swing.

So Merry Christmas Damnit to all and to all safe shopping. And if you find yourself Out And About In West Texas look for me. I will be easy to spot, with a goofy grin on my face, a Santa hat perched on my noggin, singing Feliz Navidad, and stalking under some mistletoe. Gotta luv the season.

TV Bullshit

For the most part, I do not watch series on network TV. Recently though I have been hooked on the show, 'Hero's.' It seems to really try to make an audience care about the cast and is quirky enough to keep me guessing and keep my attention. But just as I was hooked they are trying to fuck the audience again. After the last episode, the commercial stated that next week would be the last episode until next year. Damnit to fucking hell. Didn't they learn a damn thing from the Soprano's. This split the series in half for the year bullshit is the exact reason that many quit watching the mob family show and that would include myself as well. If they want to split it up then that is what fucking reruns are for. If they keep this bullshit up then the series won't be a hero it will be a big fucktarded zero.

*****
While I am on the subject of TV, I would just like to say that the broadcasting group for ESPN's coverage of Monday Night Football has to be the most boring group of asswipes that I have ever had the displeasure of viewing. They make the freaking Weather Channel seem like must see tv. But I guess there is always the beer commercials during the game to look forward to.

Merv

Odds are that we have all been visited by our good friend Merv.
He is the blogworlds biggest perv.
When you get a search term hit for something filled with raunch
He's sitting there with his hands beneath his paunch.

What he does for giggles and fun
Is type in search terms like nuns on nuns.
Not like the common rubes
He'll type in terms like Beth Chapman's boobs.

When you see a search term like calf suck beastiality
Just think of Merv and let it be.
It's all in fun and a hits a hit.
Besides the search engine found that shit.

Making A List And Checking It Twice

The Thanksgiving leftovers are history so the silly season is officially started. In order to get the ball rolling and to insure that Old Saint Nick doesn't give me the shaft this year. I thought that I would go ahead and make up an early Christmas list. I can assure you that I will update the list as more stuff comes to my mind.

1. A new Tat. I still am undecided as to what to do in order to balance out my arms. I am thinking of a goth mermaid basking under a full moon. But a goth mermaid might just be a bit strange even for me.

2. A new weapon. Living in redneck America with only one handgun, one shotgun, and one rifle, I am woefully under armed.

3. New Neighbors. Although the Thanksgiving entertainment of a drunken free for all next door complete with the punctuation of a ton of gravel being thrown in the air saved me from a mundane quiet Thanksgiving. I suppose I am just never satisfied.

4. A rubber floor. If you have seen the beer commercial with the rubber floor, then you know this is a must have, if you haven't seen it then when you do you will know what I mean. It is too cool for mere words to describe.

5. Peace, love, and happiness for all of humanity or a bootleg copy of the Britney Spears sex tape. Whichever is easier for Santa to fork over.

Happy Thanksgiving

Today there will be no rants. There will be no bitches or gripes. Today I only wish to give my thanks. I am thankful that my family is well, that I am alive and free to breath the West Texas air under the blue West Texas Sky, and I am thankful for you, my friends in the blogosphere. I hope this holiday brings forth the best for you and yours. From the Fuzz Family to All of you, Happy Thanksgiving.

In closing I will leave you with my brother, Crazy Dan's, favorite blessing. 'Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Who eats the fastest eats the most.' Have a great one and see you next week.

Loud And Proud

When you say Redneck don't curl up your lips
Say it with pride with your hands on your hips.
Pick Up drivin', trailer dwellin', white trash of all ages.
Worshippin' Nascar Drivers as if they were sages.
Our numbers are growin' by leaps and by hops,
And if you don't believe me catch an episode of Cops.

We're everywhere and quite easy to see.
Wearing tube tops and tattoos and Dale Jr. tees.
Munchin' on Chee-to's and barbequed Spam.
And If you don't like it we don't give a damn.
Yuppies and Bluebloods should build fences or thickets.
Cause we'll soon be your neighbors thanks to winning lottery tickets.

Written By Angry Joyce

I Got Dragged Into This One

Yesterday I was asked if I could come in and work. I said yes and asked what time I needed to be there. I was then told 4 in the morning. I should have asked that first. See ya later today.

No More Mr. Nice Guy

I am sorry but I am just a little ambivalent over the latest Bobby Knight brouhaha. I have seen the video and I am sorry but it appears that it wasn't a violent slap but rather a little attention getter. I would be up in arms with the rest of the sports nation if it wasn't for the fact that the kid that received the pop and his parents all say that it is no big deal that it was nothing. I have always thought that no harm equals no foul. The only thing that gets me is the complete disregard that Bobby Knight always has had and always will have for every damned person on the face of the earth that does not bend over backwards to kiss his pompous ass.

He knows that with his history, the eyes of the sporting world and many that do not care about sports at all, are planted firmly on him. Yet he continually goes out of the way to prove to his detractors that he is the ass that they paint him out to be. So maybe the little attention getting slap was no big deal but it is just one more incident in a long line of incidents. When they are added up all together it paints a picture of how a winning coach is not necessarily a winner.

In case you haven't heard the story of the incident, click here.

Dougie

Little Dougie was happy as happy can be
He loved pissing bubbles for all the world to see.
So even when the bubbles covered his little chin
He faced the world with his wicked little grin.
What a lovely way for a little lad to cope
When his little potty mouth kept getting washed out with soap.

Hooray Breakfast

I have a rare Sunday off this week. I was able to indulge in one of my favorite activities; Breakfast. On workdays, I generally don't have time to stop for breakfast. I grab a honey bun, pop-tart, or granola bar and crunch it down on my way to work.

This morning, I was able to brew up a pot of coffee, scramble some eggs, fry up some hash browns and bacon, and flip some hot cakes. By the time the coffee was brewing, the boy was up ready to drink coffee and keep me company while I was whipping up breakfast. By the time the bacon had crisped, Angry Joyce was up in a better humor than usual. I guess the smell of bacon frying soothes the savage beast. And when it was done, I woke up the girl. ( Teens have to be firebombed out of bed. The smell of breakfast doesn't register for shit during their morning slumbers. )

Sitting here full and content I have to admit that all in all it was a great breakfast. Although I enjoy cooking breakfast, there is something to be said for going to a good roadside diner and ordering up breakfast. There is no more simple pleasure that can kickstart your day going like a good cup of coffee, chicken fried steak and eggs, and bullshitting with a quick witted waitress. I think that is what I need to do tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow will come soon.

The Donkey Barbeque

I have been ranting on Thursday's for awhile. At first, I lined myself up with the FOADers and then I started calling it Kiss My Ass Thursday's but in a way this didn't sound quite right either. Recently while commenting to the lovely Georgia peach, Vic, on her blog I was reminded of an old saying that fits my Thursday rants to a tee. So sit back, take a load off and enjoy the donkey barbeque. And let's eat some ass.

*********

The past few mornings I have passed some true fucking idiots on my way to work. Why the fuck these douchebags are up at such an ungodly hour jogging down the street is beyond me. I don't call them idiots because they jog. I haven't anything against joggers. But if you are jogging down the street before the sun comes up, then for Chrissakes wear some light colored or reflective clothing. I don't want to be late for work because you have decided to commit suicide by jogging. And some poor slob that actually has a heart might make you roadkill and be filled with a lifetime of remorse. If you don't give a flying fuck for your own safety at least think of your fellow human beings. Fuck!!!

**************

Texas re-elected Governor ' Asswipe ' Rick Perry. This asshole is bought and paid for lock, stock, and mother fuckin' barrel by the insurance companies. This states insurance carriers are the sleaziest most overpaid and underrepresenting cocksuckers on the face of the damned planet. Congrats assholes for voting this asschunk in for another term. Maybe it's the fault of the new voting machines. I know how hard it is to spin a fucking dial and it is so much easier to just punch in a straight party ticket. But it would be handy if you dug your head out of your ass and not vote for the assholes that are proven fucking crooks.

*************

Far be it from me to say anything negative about Bush and his advisors but wouldn't it have been brighter to fire Rumsfeld before you get your ass handed to you. Fucktards!

*************

To check out the site where I nabbed the pic, click here.

Little Girl, Big Dreams

Jill was a little person standing four foot three
She had aspirations of getting an Ivy League Degree.
She tried for Harvard and she tried for Yale
Her grades were good but to no avail.

She hadn't the finances for such a big name school.
And when she couldn't find a scholarship for a dwarf from these Ivy League fools.
Then she found a scholarship that would give her a shot at fortune and fame.
She could be the leprechaun mascot for Notre Dame.

Current Ads: The Good, The Bad, And The Fugly

I consider myself a connoisseur of commercials. Most of the time the commercial advertisements are a sight more entertaining than the actual shows on television. Of the current crop of commercials on tv, I single three out as showing the epitome of the good, the bad, and the fugly.

The Good: Far be it from me to give any props to Geiko. I will never forgive them for foisting that damn Gecko into my consciousness but I love their ad with the movie voice over guy. I think that it would be too cool to have this guy follow me for a couple of days and do a voice over for all my conversations.

The Bad: Match.com has to have the stupidest campaign running on tv today. They are promising six free months if you do not find your perfect match in six months. If after six months all that a person has found is flakes, mamma's boys, fuglies, gold diggers, and other assorted losers, then why in hell would you want to subject yourself to six more months of degradation? I would think a quick kick to the groin would be a lot less painful.

The Fugly: Pepto Bismol's new ads sinks to a new low in bad taste. I can think of not many things more disgusting than a bunch of douchebags line-dancing to the tune of nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea. I certainly hope that this dancing ailment ad does not start a trend. What's next: Everybody's doing a brand new dance now, come on baby do the yeast infection.

A Few Things That Suck

My work hours are from 6 am to 6 pm. This means that I go to work in the dark and drive back home in the dark. All daylight hours are burned up at work.

Mr. Roboto made VH-1's, 100 Greatest Songs of the '80's. Could I be the only one that felt that this song was a sign of the apocalypse or at the very least, the worse song ever produced by humans.

There was no fall here to speak of whatsoever. It went straight from sweat your balls off summer to freeze your ass off winter.

I haven't had enough time to blog as much as I would like lately but it sucks that so many of my old blogfriends have stopped blogging at all. I miss so many of them that have dropped out. Thanks to everyone else for staying around.

There is a horrendous stomach virus going around. It starts with massive amounts of flatulence and then screaming diarrhea. Angry Joyce fell it's victim last night. I will most likely fall it's victim soon. I have so much to look forward to.

The Ghost Chokes Mr. Chicken

There's a ghost in my bathroom named Mr. Crook.
So before you enter knock before you look.
For what you see there may make your heart go bump.
In seeing what makes the nightly bump.

Perched upon my porcelain throne
He fills the night with an eerie moan.
All through the infernal night,
He chokes his spectral chicken with all his might.

Beware this ghost and what he does at night,
For it is far worse than the usual fright.
It is a rude awakening for your morning whiz
To step into his ghostly jizz.

How About A Hug

After last Thursday's rant, I needed to find a story that would reaffirm my love for my fellow humans. I found just the story from China.

In China, a campaign for 'free hugs' has not really caught on. The concept of embracing is seen as a foreign tradition there. One girl is quoted as saying, ' Though some people refused. I hugged twenty people in one minute.'

It seems to me that with all the hostility in the world. A few good hugs could do everyone a great deal of good. I plan on going out today and giving out as many hugs as possible. So if some big bald dude comes up and gives you a big old hug today, don't call the cops or slap him. I am just trying to spread the love.

For the full story, click here.

Kiss My Ass You Hypothetical Bastard

In yet another glaring example that justice in America is a commodity sold to the highest fucking bidder, a new autobiography is being written by OJ Simpson.

Reportedly it contains OJ talking about how he could have hypothetically killed Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman. This douchebag has not paid one single cent towards the settlement in their wrongful death and now he is going to make a killing on a fucking book with the working title, ' If I Did It.'

I say strap the bastard in the chair, stick me on the breaker switch, and let me make a mint off my book, ' If I Fried The Fucktard.'

For the story, click here.

Halloween Dreams

For me the costumed cuties rule the night.
Keep to yourself the shrieks and frights.
As for me, I'll take the jungle babes, the french maids
The wishes from the genie in a bottle and dark angels of all grades.

Naughty Nurses with push up bras,
Sexy vixens with cat claws,
Superbreasted Superheros like Wonder Woman and Storm.
Help the coldest Halloween stay cozy and warm.

Wishing all of you a Sexy Halloween with Vampire Brides
Geisha Girls, Jungle Babes, and Dark witches besides.
The best of times with latex and lace
When you can be what you want and not be out of place.

I Just Know That I Like It

Metal Mark finally lost his mind and allowed me a guest post slot on his Heavy Metal Revue site, Heavy Metal Time Machine. I broke from his traditional format and reviewed one of my favorite bands, ZZ Top, on one of their early albums, 'Tres Hombres.' I have to give them credit as being one of the first bands that I heard that really made me rock. I have never written a music revue but there is a first for everything. I hope you enjoy it over there.

I also have a personal reason for my first musical revue to be ZZ Top. I didn't know it at the time but I actually inadvertently stole one of their songs long ago. When Crazy Dan and Big D were very young, I would belt out ZZ Top's, 'TV Dinners', whenever Mom would have to work and I would slip in some TV Dinners for dinner. I never actually said that I had written the song but I never told them that it was a ZZ Top tune either.

Just last year, CD and Big D told me that they were watching a movie at the theater when 'TV Dinner' by ZZ Top was played. They both left the theater thinking that some group had stole my song. On returning home they looked up the song and found that I was not the original author of 'TV Dinner.' Maybe their image of me was tarnished a bit but I bet they were the only kids in Pre-K to know both the entire lyrics to a ZZ Top tune and the complete definition of hermaphodite ( but that is another story altogether). I guess I helped educate them right.
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This week's rant has been postponed until this weekend. Don't worry, I still have plenty to be pissed about.

Inmate Greeting Cards

Soon To Be Sold At Quality Prison Commisary's Everywhere. Here a few sample greetings.

*****
So I don't get raped in the poke.
Could you send a pack of smokes.
*****
My dear, I love you so.
Thanks for suitcasing that gram of blow.
*****
When I get a case of the droops,
I open up a package of soup.
Thanks for putting money on my commissary.
*****
The mattress is thin and the food is hell.
Life sucks at the county jail.
But here is a little birthday cheer.
Be thankful that you aren't here.
*****
I'm sorry that love hurts.
Thanks for being my prison bitch.
*****
I may be a prisoner of love.
But next cavity check could you lube your glove.
*****
Say hello to all my kin.
The judge just gave me five to ten.
*****
Thanks for sending me that pic of you at the ocean.
It comes in handy with a bottle of lotion.
*****
I knew that it would be tough behind bars of steel.
But I never thought that you would run off with my brother, Bill.
*****

Wonder what the pic has in common with the post. Check this out.

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BTW, Go to Sar's and vote for me. Woo Hoo. One of my captions was finally nominated.

It's Raining, It's Pouring, The Old Man Is Snoring

Sorry for the no show, both here and at your sites. I haven't had a day off in quite awhile but I have one Tuesday. See ya then. Until then does anyone know where to get an ark, it is raining like a cow pissing on a flat rock.

Google My Ass

After seeing what a great job that Google has done with blogger, I can't wait to see how Google plans on fucking up You Tube.

*****
Why the fuck can't they make vending machines for plastic bottles like the old machines for glass bottles where you just put in your money, opened the door, and pulled one out of the machine. Fuck No, now it rolls around for fifteen minutes and comes out with the explosive power of a 10 kiloton bomb.

*****
And for you football fans, Cowboy fans in particular, I have a question. Who is the biggest fucktard, Drew Bledsoe for his lousy play or Bill Parcells for not pulling his ass?

In The Name Of Science

Ever since the first human invented the wheel
Science struggles to find the newest deal.
The How, The Why, The When, The Where
But sometimes I wonder why we care.

That mosquitos attack feet for their stench,
That finicky dung beatles at nasty shit will flinch.
Does it matter why nails on a chalkboard makes our spine squinch?
Or how many pictures does it take for a group shot with no eyes that flinch?

Some research is extremely vital
Like how to stop disease deadly and viral.
Or how to find someway to replace our dependence on gas.
But why do I need to know that one way to cure hiccups is a finger up your ass.

For the story that gave me inspiration, Click here.

The Twisted Test: Quiz #1

Taking on-line quizzes is a guilty pleasure of mine, so I decided to come up with a Blugstuff quiz. This quiz will help you find out if you have what it takes to be a happy person in a sick world. Each question has two answers. Just pick the one that pops in your head as correct.

1) Bambi:
A) A Cartoon Disney Deer.
B) A Blonde stripper with big fake Double D's.

2) Dirty Sanchez:
A) An illegal alien after a rough border crossing.
B) A somewhat deviant sexual practice involving face painting.

3) Snowball:
A) A round ball of packed snow for wintertime fun.
B) A truly disgusting sexual practice involving the swapping of more than spit.

4) The Olsen Twins:
A) Weren't they cute on Full House?
B) Now that they are legal, why haven't we seen them naked?

5) Floaties:
A) What children put on before going into the kiddie pool.
B) Ejaculate floating in the water after hot tub sex.

6) Tool:
A) A device used to perform a mechanical function.
B) An asshole that really pisses you off.

7) Hershey Highway:
A) A freeway in Pennsylvania named after the famous chocalate.
B) The name for the rectum when describing anal sex.

8) Rabbit:
A) A cute long eared mammal that munches on garden veggies.
B) A really funky new fangled sex toy.

9) Wang:
A) A proprietor of an all you can eat Chinese Buffet.
B) A Penis.

10) What the internet is best for:
A) Communicating with others across vast distances in a massive world community.
B) Porno Baby. HARDCORE PORNO!!!!

Now count the number of B's that you answered and check your score.

0 - Mary Poppins is a fictional character and Mother Theresa is dead. Who the hell are you?
1-3 - Shouldn't you really be at NickJr.com?
4-6 - You should know that sitting in the middle of the road will only get your ass run over.
7-9 - Just a few more steps down the road and you will be truly twisted.
10 - You sick freak, Welcome to my world!!! Wanna' do a guest post?

Kiss My Ass: It Ain't For Everyone

I recently received an e-mail from a long time reader. In the e-mail, she responded that she was upset over my language used in these Thursday rants. So I stuck in this parental advisory for readers sensitive to coarse language. Now that you have been properly warned, these readers can click to one of the PG rated blogs in their favorites list and kindly get the fuck out. But come on back now, ya hear.
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What kind of perverted fucking world do we live in? Sure I am down with a certain amount of sickness. As long as it is hurting no one, I have to say no harm no foul. But what a fucking week.

Some fucktard goes and kills Amish girls and is only stopped from sexually abusing them by the police's quick response. And fucking Foley. I can't believe this perv is an elected official. When does he have any time to do anything but send nasty messages to boys? And why the fuck have his cronies and the fucking media been sitting on this story. Isn't the media's job to give us the fucking news?

There is a special corner in hell for pedophiles. I hope they all get there as quick as fucking possible. And that goes for all the asshole fucktard rejects that help them get away with it and put them back on the damned streets.

Delbert

Delbert was a hillbilly from the Arkansas sticks.
He moved to the hills of Kentucky in 2006.
He loved the grass of vivid green
And the whole land was a lovely scene.

He loved the folks, friendly and warm
The whole place had a wonderful charm
He loved the food from the grits to the ham
But he just couldn't get his favorite jam.

As much as he loved the grits
The Kentucky Jelly gave him the shits.
It had a bad taste and left a film from his mouth to his belly.
There was just no eating that KY Jelly.

Sick World Rules: Part One

The British bible of etiquette, Debrett's, has updated this year to keep up with modern times. Among topics discussed are; how to conduct a sleeze free adulterous affair, safe sex, and how to smoke at parties.

One choice quote is, 'Avoid dark alley gropery and unladylike fumbling in the back of a cab.' I might add a few choice tips for more mannered debauchery.

A lady never spits. Think happy thoughts and just swallow.

Do not answer a phone while having intercourse. Ringing sounds might have been sexually stimulating to the Hunchback of Notre Dame but not to the average man.

Never ask for favors or material possesions to a man after intercourse. Sure he is at a weak point and could be induced into just about anything but there is a word that sums up sex for material gain; prostitution.

Click here for the Yahoo News Story.

Kiss My Ass: Big Brother

First you make me wear a fucking seatbelt so I don't kill myself driving, next you tax my smokes to the nth fucking degree, and now the bastards in NYC are trying to ban trans-fat from restaurants to save me from having a fat ass.

Fuck off and Kiss My Hairy Ass Big Brother. If you want to do something fucking useful then fix the damn roads, kill all the terrorist asswipes, and keep all the pedophiles and dangerous asschunks behind fucking bars. Leave me the fuck alone. Who in hell died and made you my fucking daddy? It sure as fuck isn't in the damned Constitution. Take a few fucking minutes and read the son of a bitch you fucktards.

Click here for the NY bullshit.

Another Shameless Plug

I really enjoy working on the posts over at BvB during Siren's absence. I am sorry if my posts and choice of topics have lost a few of her fans but I can only be myself.

This week's topic is a revisiting of a previous post but with a little more venom added for an extra bit of spice. That is why I chose for the guest posters, two bloggers that pull no punches. On the Beastly side is Pure Evyl. He is new to my blogroll and is a man after my own heart in so many ways. On the Beauty side is Yellowdog Granny. Her wit and attitude is a refreshing change of pace.

So head on over there. It is guaranteed to either piss you off or have you laughing your ass off.

Ode To A Sock

Oh noble garment so oft abused
Thrown under the bed soiled and used.
You keep my feet so warm and snug.
Sorry I hid you under the rug.
But what to do when your as crusty as a rock,
After I have used you as my spank sock.

What Was That?

During the Pittsburgh - Cincinnati game, I caught a blurb of commercial on my way to the can. It was for Inside Edition or Entertainment Tonight. I wasn't paying enough attention to catch which one. The commercial stated to stay tuned tomorrow for the story on Clay Gaykin and Anna Nicole Smith. I hope to God that I misheard the commercial and this is actually two unrelated stories. I don't think that I could handle it if I found out that the new baby of Anna Nicole's is actually the love child of Clay Gaykin. My heart would go out to this poor child. Rather than kindergarten, he would most likely be going to rehab.

Kiss My Ass: Workplace Fucktards

Most workers are hard working and try to get the job done but every place of employment usually has an unsupporting cast of pure fucktards. I know that you all know the types but I would like to list a few of these assbiscuits that I despise the most.

The Spy: This chikenshit douchebag asswipe waits in the shadows constantly searching for the minor mistakes of others. The spy is to busy backstabbing fellow employees to ever degrade themselves by actually doing any fucking work themselves. His or her only justification for keeping their miserable fucking jobs is to throw their fellow workers to the fucking wolves of upper management.

The Ass Smoocher: What's the difference between an asskisser and a brown noser? Depth perception. An ass smoocher is another waste of space fuckbubble. The get by on the mere fact that there is no ass that resides higher in the pecking order that they will not stoop to kiss. These asschunks usually are a raging dickhead/bitch to those underneath them on the corporate food chain. That is why karma is such a harsh bitch when these assmuffins eventually are booted down the ladder. Ass kissing without any substance to back it up will only let you slide for so long.

The Chameleon: Whenever there is work to be done and whenever someone is needed, the chameleon manages to blend into their surroundings and hid from any work related activity. Damn those bastards can hide. I think what pisses me off the most is that I never can figure out their hiding places.

These are just a few of the chickenfuckers that piss me off the most. I will not go into idiot supervisors, middle management fucktards, and corporate shills. That is a totally different can of one eyed wonder worms.

So to all those work a day cumbuckets that make the workday a piss of shit for the rest of us, Kiss My Ass. I hope you get fucking fired.

What Do I Look Like? Fabio

Although I thoroughly enjoy all the erotic authors on my blogroll, I have never posted anything remotely erotic as Fuzz so maybe I have bitten off more than I can chew but I decided to let it rip over at BvB. In order to help me I called on the aid of the lovely and talented Greeneyes.

I know that I will catch a good deal of grief over this post. It is certainly far different than my posts on Peeping Toms catching transvestites, dogs licking guy's balls, inmates and Fifis, and the numerous twisted tales that I post here. But such is life. So head over there if you will. And either laugh with me or laugh at me. Either way let it rip.

The Hole

Tom was an inmate in Cell Block A.
Passing time playing checkers with his cellie Jose.
He never caused trouble not even once.
The hole sucked hard and he wasn't a dunce.

But one day it happened and his rage did break free.
He caught Jose in the shower with his brand new Fifi.
After beating Jose half to death ( which was his goal)
He was unceremoniously chunked in the hole.

He will miss all his buddies on Cell Block A
He will miss his smokes and the checkers to play.
But most of all, he will miss his Fifi
And the times shared in Shower Stall Three.

Just a plain plastic bag, warm water, and a splash of shampoo.
Depending on how hard he squeezed, It was always fresh and new.
Now what can he do for his daily bit of joy,
Without the aid of his favorite toy?

With his head on his hands as he sat on his cot,
He came up with the most delightful thought.
When lunch rolled around his new love would be
A small dab of spit and a warm slice of balogney.

The Words of The Sage: My Pretty Pony

I haven't quoted The Sage in quite a while. But something happened the other day to bring him to my mind so I thought that I would share some of his wit today.

The Sage was partial to short round women. As he said, 'I like to keep a Thoroughbred in the house and a Shetland Pony in the barn. A Thoroghbred is good for showing off but the pony will give you a hell of a ride.'

Kiss My Ass: Quikie Stop Wannabe's

Wednesday Morning while stopping at the convenience store on my happy assed way to work, I was bombarded by the sonic boom of rap being played to the maximum output of a cheap ass boombox. I went to the store to refill my coke and grab a pack of smokes. I did not go to the store to hear some scruffy, baggy pants hanging off his ass, gangsta wannabe dickweed rapping about how they wanted to hit it with some ho with a big bouncy ass. If I wanted to listen to that fucking shit then I would steal an album of that crap my damned self.

So to those motherfuckin' asshole convenience store workers that can't live through the day without listening to this infernal racket then for God's sake buy a pair of fucking headphones. There is no damned sense in making the public at large suffer just because you have a shitty assed taste in music. And while you are at it buy a fucking clue, steal a personality, and pull your head out of your ass!!!

Back From The Range

Three months out on the range Big Joe stepped into the saloon
Dusty and Dirty a ripe grizzled goon.
Stepped up to the bar and ordered a shot of rye
Knocked it down turned around and looked low and high.

By the poker table he spied Diamond Lil
A soiled angel of the west in black hose and black heels.
He grabbed her up quick and took her out back
After so long on the trail, he had no time for tact.

He peeled off his duds in a dust and a flurry
And got down to business in a frightful hurry.
It didn't take long just a second or three
Then he put back on his pants and paid his fee

He said, 'Sorry darlin', It's been a while on the trail.
Ridin' drag, seein' nuthin' but cattle tail.
But I guess I did all right cause I can tell I curled your toes.'
She replied, ' Well, next time Cowboy give me some time and I'll pull off my hose.'

Remembrance

Today marks the fifth anniversary of the tragic day that gripped our nation and the world. It was a rude awakening to a terrible new world. It was a harsh and violent reminder that none of us are truly safe from those who wish death to not only our way of life but to our very lives.

I can remember the shock and confusion that I felt that day. In many ways, I am still living that shock but I am no longer confused. The radical Islamic extremists have made it painfully clear. They wish us death for to them there is no such thing as innocent lives. They live in a world of hatred; a world without love, humor, or even the smallest shred of human compassion.

On this fifth anniversary, I mourn the loss of lives from this day. I also celebrate the lives that were so wrongly taken in hatred. I celebrate the many acts of heroism and bravery on that fateful day and in it's aftermath. I also remember those who have died defending our freedom in the war against terrorism.

Outside my window, the thunder rumbles and lightning streaks across the sky. The sky's have opened up and rain falls as if the heavens themselves can no longer hold back their tears. May we never forget. For if we do then another day will come when we must remember yet another tragic day.

Kiss My Ass: Rockstar Supernova

I must admit that I am a big fan of the show 'Rockstar: Supernova.' The show has been filled with some really talented singers and only a few hacks. What pisses me off is the tracks by Stupernova. It seems that Stupernova has fallen into the same problems as most every stupergroup. Put three hard rockers from different bands and a fresh new artist and it should rule but that is only on paper. The reality falls far short of the promise.

The first stupergroup to hit my attention was Damn Yankees. Yeh, yeh, I heard a few groans there. I will admit that they had a few decent tunes but by and large the Damn Yankees were a damn crying ass shame, Uncle Ted and all.

The next to hit my sights were Van Hagar. Van Halen rocked, Sammy Hagar rocked, Van Hagar sucked shit through a fucking straw. Nuff said, Right Now.

The most recent group to hit my radar was the teaming of Rage Against The Machine and lead singer Chris Cornell from Soundgarden. It falls far short of Rage Against The Garden. There is no rage only sappy regurgitated crap.

So to all you hard rocking superstars, before you think that you are too big for your fucking group, take a good look at the ones that have decided to go supergroup. Odds are you will just turn out to be a super fucktard.