Get over yourselves, writer douchebags.

So you're a writer.

We'll, whoop-te-fucking-do.

I know, I know. Nobody understands you. And you feel things so much more deeply than everyone else. You're always daydreaming, always thinking up your next story.

Unlike the person at the cash register. Unlike the guy working on your car. Unlike the person teaching your kids.

You're special.

The fuck you are.

You might have a skill that some other people don't. You know what? They have their own skills. I don't know why you think your skills are so superior. Because you're in such demand? The fuck you are. If you're Stephen King, your skills are in demand. Otherwise, your shit is going to end up in one of those discount book stores in those sad little outlet malls on the side of the interstate, right next to the Nike outlet. And the Nike outlet will be selling a lot more socks than the bookstore will be of your book, even if your book is 3-4 dollars less than the socks. And that's if you're lucky.

I don't know how we got on this kick about writers being rock stars. You know who are rock stars? Rock stars.

I think some of it is leftover from the days when people actually gave a shit when a book came out. People used to line up to get the latest Hemingway, back when people didn't have TV and X-Box. Now it's news when three people publish a book: Stephen King, Dan Brown, and J.K. Rowling. Oh, and rock stars.

Maybe some of it is because of the Internet, where you can now be in a big circle jerk with other writers and pretend that no one in the world gives a shit about anything or anyone but writing and writers.

And even if you are in demand, how much are you making on your book? Five grand? Holy shit, you'd be doing better at Wal-Mart. I've seen some shit from people who've been on the New York Times bestseller list, who've made a lot more than five grand on their book, but after all their expenses they're still left with maybe 20 grand, if they're lucky. That's sad, dude. That's barely scraping by.

But you resent the hell out of that, don't you? In your world, you'd be paid what your writing is worth. Well, here's the deal, smart guy: you're getting paid what your writing is worth right now. You can bitch all you want about how your werewolf book is worth more than $.99 on Kindle. Go ahead: bitch. You know who ain't bitching? Your auto mechanic. You want your fucking car fixed, you'll pay what he asks. Or get the fuck out of his shop.

And please don't give me that shit about mankind's eternal thirst for narrative. Mankind may have a thirst, but there are a million watering holes just like yours. There's no shortage of material for thirst-quenching.

Oh, but wait. You don't care about recompense. No, you are ze fucking artiste! You suffer for your goddamn werewolf romance Art. Well, good for you! Now take your head out of your ass.

I'm serious. You have your head so far up your ass you can't write about anything other than the inside of your own rectum. You're so in love with the idea of yourself as a writer that you can't write about anything that anyone gives a shit about. I mean, who cares about you? You sit around in front of a computer all day. That's boring as shit to read about. Other people actually do stuff. Step outside yourself, quit worrying about being Mr. Fancy Writer Cockass, and write about them. If you really have skills, congratulations. Now shut up and put your skills to use. Be a voice for the voiceless. You remember Barton Fink, right? That's you. The guy next door has some good stories. He has something in the box. You don't have shit.

Get your fat ass up those stairs.

I don't know about where you are, but where I am, there are fat people everywhere.

I ain't talking about just overweight. It's true we have body image problems in this country. If you haven't figured it out yet, you can't look like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model without being on the Cigarette & Tic Tac Diet and having some geek Photoshop 20 more pounds off you. We have a very fucked-up view about what's actually normal.

No, I'm talking about fucking whales. I'm talking about brontosauruses. You think the brontosaurus never existed? Come take a look around where I live. These are people who are running up the price of cotton worldwide because we can't grow enough to make clothes to cover their obscene fatness.

Look, I'm no doctor. I'm sure that in some cases medical conditions are responsible for people having a two-foot-deep exoskeleton of blubber. But I'm also pretty sure that some people have that because they're stuffing their pieholes with Ding Dongs while watching Jersey Shore.

Fat is not a lifestyle. That kind of fat is unhealthy. It's gross. I shouldn't have to accommodate your fatness. I was in a Mexican restaurant recently, and a woman was so fat she had to squeeze to get through the very generous entrance to the restrooms. She's probably the kind who would think about suing the owner so he would make a bigger entrance. Pretty soon they'll be petitioning Congress to pass The People Who Are Fucking Fatasses Act, and make everyone build doors that are five feet wider.

I'm glad people get kicked off planes for being too fat. It should happen more often. I shouldn't have to deal with your blubber spilling over into my seat. I don't see how that's your right. You should get your ass off the plane, and fucking walk. Walk 500 miles, and you might have lost enough to fly on the way back.

But maybe the thing that really gets me are stairs. Look, I know some people have disabilities that are no fault of their own. I know some people are 90 years old. But everyone else can climb one fucking flight of stairs. I'm guessing they could climb three or four. But one is definitely possible.

And yet perfectly healthy people, people who are not yet fat but will be, can't be bothered to climb a single fucking flight of stairs. I'm pretty sure some of them think they're important. Stairs are for proles, or some shit like that. But others are just fucking lazy.

So here's my suggestion of the day: get your fucking ass up those stairs. Do it today, and tomorrow it will get easier. In fact you might even start enjoying it. A few flights of stairs isn't going to kill your knees. It'll help your heart. It'll burn a few calories. It'll buy you a little time. In the meantime, those assholes who have to take the elevator up one flight, who are stuffing their faces with a cupcake as they drag their big butts on the elevator to go up one flight, will pack on the pounds day after day, day after day, until they can barely walk, and some of them will even qualify for those scooter things, and their insurance will fucking pay for it too, all because they're fucking fatties, and you might just live long enough to see some of them floating around on those flying fat-seat things in Wall-E. But I guarantee that if you keep going up those stairs, you'll see those whales drop off one by one, one by one. Your ticker can't take that much grease, man. It just can't. You'll survive. They won't.

It is just fine to be happy we killed Osama bin Laden.

So I've been reading and watching some fucking people on TV and Facebook and elsewhere wringing their goddamn hands and shaking their finger at people for being glad that we killed that motherfucker Osama bin Laden.

Look, if you're really trying to live the Christian life and forgive people for their heinous acts, then my hat's off to you. I mean that sincerely. You're a better person than I am. Maybe the world would be a much better place if we could all follow that example. And I've got no problem with you promoting that kind of attitude. But at this moment, regarding Osama bin Laden, please just leave everyone else the fuck alone.

If you've got a beef with our foreign policy, that's okay by me. You're more than justified, in my opinion. We've done all kinds of fucked up things. You're fucking right to complain and demand we improve.

But let me tell you about this fucker bin Laden. Supposedly he first got pissed off at us when the Soviets left Afghanistan, and we closed up shop and told everyone to go fuck themselves. And you know, it's understandable to be pissed about that. But then he got really mad when the Saudis asked us to come save them from Saddam Hussein. He went apeshit over the idea over our Christian/Jewish/atheist/Trekkie feet touching his sacred fucking Saudi sand. So in revenge for that, he decided it would be a good idea to take planes full of innocent people and fly them into buildings full of innocent people.

See, you do shit like that, you have forfeited whatever argument you had. Because while we have done shitty things, while there have been numerous instances when the United States should have been more thoughtful about the innocent lives we fuck with all the time, our goal is not to go around blowing up innocent people. It just isn't. We don't delight in that, like he did. When things get fucked up, like My Lai and shit like that, we get upset and do what we can to fix it and do better next time. We don't throw a fucking party.

So imagine you're a nine-year-old kid, and you wake up one morning, and you see videos of big planes flying into big buildings. You always liked planes, and you always liked big buildings. You read about the Twin Towers in New York City and wanted to go to the top of those one day. You had a great time when you got on a plane to see Grandma or Uncle Joe or whoever the fuck. But then you see those planes blow up and the buildings fall down, and suddenly you're scared as shit, and everyone around you is scared as shit. And you don't even know anyone who got blown up or killed, but even so your life has fucking changed. For a long time everyone talks about chemicals and biological weapons and nuclear bombs, and you don't know if you're going to wake up one morning and see a mushroom cloud or your mom covered with smallpox. And you have to go through all this shit at the airport, and every time you get on a plane you hope it isn't getting flown into a building. And moms and dads of your friends are going off to war, and you hear grownups arguing all the time, and they're always talking about scary shit all the time on TV.

If that was you, and ten years later, when you're in college, our guys finally find the motherfucker responsible for it all and blow off half his fucking head, then that is a really good day. You've been living with that shit for a long-ass time, and now that evil motherfucker is dead as dreams. So maybe you get a little excited and go outside and shout about it for a few minutes.

Some of you fuckers might say, well, some of those poor kids in the Middle East and elsewhere live with that same kind of fear all the time, and a lot of times it's the U.S. or our equipment that's doing the blowing up, and maybe our goal isn't to blow up innocent people but they get blown up all the same. And I say, yeah, I get that. And Screedster has major issues with U.S. foreign policy. But going outside and blowing off some steam for a few minutes because an evil mass murderer is dead is different than deciding you need to go blow up some other innocent fuckers. It just is. I'll cut innocent people a lot of slack for being pissed at being on the business end of our foreign policy--up until the point they start blowing up innocents.

And then maybe you say, but violence just begets violence, and it's this endless cycle that only ends in death. Look, I don't know the details of everything that went down, but I'm pretty sure if we'd run into bin Laden in line at McDonalds, we probably wouldn't have blasted his head off right then. Maybe we would have attempted to subdue him and bring him in alive. But you couldn't send some local beat cops to cuff bin Laden. You had to send in Seals, because they're the only fucking guys who had a chance of going into his compound and taking out that bastard. And Seals don't fuck around. They're in a room with this asshole, and they don't know what he's got planned, whether the whole place is wired to blow or what the fuck. Someone who is presumably such a fucking mastermind would have some kind of tricks up his sleeve, like the Joker's electrocuting joybuzzer, or shit like that. You've already fought and killed some other fuckers just to get in the same room with him, and he makes the slightest fucking weird-ass move, and it's pop, pop, there goes part of your head, asshole.

And that's more or less the same thing that would happen if the cops went to bust some serial killer. Didn't you see Silence of the Lambs? Because that's really what bin Laden was: a serial killer, but one with enough charisma to make some other miserable fucks go blow themselves up so he could get off. The Islam stuff, his beefs with the United States, that was all just an excuse to kill people. That was his Catcher in the Rye. Because to fly planes into buildings or tell other people to, to think that it's a good idea to blow up innocent thousands and make countless others miserable, you have to be sick in the head. Like John Wayne Gacy or the guy in Lambs making the woman suit. "It puts the lotion in the basket!" Just like that. If you can subdue those guys, great. But one fucking wrong move, motherfucker, and pow.

So please fucking spare me your goddamn righteous indignation. This guy was a major-league mass-murdering asshole. Outside of Hitler and Stalin and maybe a couple of other guys, he was a contender for All-Time Mass-Murdering Asshole. We lived with the threat of this guy for over ten years. It's okay to be happy he's dead.

P.S. And quit being a shitass about giving Obama or Bush credit for getting bin Laden. Bush went after him, would have gotten him if he could have. Obama kept after him and got him. It doesn't matter what you think about either of them otherwise. Grow the fuck up.

Goddamn Osama bin Laden Motherfucker is Dead as Shit

YEA!!!

Dumped your carcass in the sea, motherfucker!

Screedster is more into cussing than killing, but in this case, I sure hope you got to experience some serious fucking pain before it was lights out.

I imagine you must have shit your pants good when the Seals busted through that door. HAHAHAHAHA.

Rot in hell forever, murdering cockass!!!

Jim Tressel, College Football, and the Stupidest Fucking Story of the Year

So I'm listening to the radio yesterday and all the sports show guys have lowered their voices and are talking in these grave tones. Jim Tressel, the head football coach at Ohio State, has committed some grave offense. He may lose his job, and the integrity of the university is at stake.

Uh oh. Did he rape some little boys? Or did he burn a cross in a black family's lawn and then string them up from the nearest tree?

Fuck no.

He didn't report to the NCAA that some of his players exchanged their memorabilia for free tattoos.

Holy Jesus fucking shit, I thought, in those exact words. This is what these sports fucks are all concerned about?

Look, I don't give a shit about Jim Tressel. I hate Ohio State, what with their THE Ohio State University bullshit and their holier-than-thou president and his fucking bowties. I'm glad they're in trouble. I hope they don't win another game.

But it's still one of the stupidest fucking stories I've ever heard.

"Well, the rules may be wrong, but they were the rules, and he broke them." Go snort rabbit turds, Mr. Assholes-for-Eyes. When the rules are that goddamn stupid, you stop giving a fuck right then.

This whole college amateurism shit is nothing but a fucking sham, and we all know it. Amateurism is some 19th-century shit that was designed to keep the riff-raff from mixing with the blue bloods. If you needed money to compete, then you obviously weren't rich, and therefore you needed to get your ass out of that rowboat and back down in the mines or factories. Now tell me how that squares with mostly poor black kids from the ghetto.

"Well, they have a chance to get a college education that's valued at so-and-so dollars." Go chug diseased diarrhea from a funnel, Cock-Nose. You and I both know the colleges don't give two shits about these guys getting a college education. The only reason they're walking through the doors is because they can do stuff with a goddamn ball.

So some of these players wanted some tattoos. For the life of me I don't understand why you'd want a fucking tattoo, but whatever. They took some of the shit they OWN--their PERSONAL FUCKING BELONGINGS--and exchanged it for tattoos.

But this AGAINST THE RULES. You can't sell the shit YOU FUCKING OWN.

Lemme tell you: if you were some fucking violin prodigy on a music scholarship, you could sell whatever the fuck you wanted. Not only that, but some rich cocksucker could pay your whole fucking way and set you up in a Hummer and buy you platform shoes with fucking live goldfish in the heels.

But if you're an athlete, that's AGAINST THE RULES. You're VIOLATING THE SPIRIT OF AMATEURISM. Never mind that the universities and the coaching staffs are swimming in cash because of you, with endorsement deals and shoe contracts and even YOUR FUCKING DIGITAL LIKENESS in video games. Somehow that's still "amateurism."

And so it turns out that Jim Tressel is a weasel by knowing this went on and not reporting it. Well whoop-te-fucking-do. Somehow these sports writer and radio assholes thought he was some kind of saint, which as far as I can tell was because he wears glasses and sweater vests.

That's another thing: these "sports personality" assholes, who are all doing worse shit than Tressel did, like cheating on their spouses or driving drunk or cheating on their taxes or sexually harrassing people, they get all serious and high-and-mighty about this stupid violation, when THEY ALL KNOW the entire system is fucked and crooked from top to bottom--and to top it all off, it PAYS THEIR FUCKING SALARIES. If they're so outraged about Jim Tressel and his negligence in not forwarding an email to the NCAA, how about they quit their fucking job with ESPN, which just so happens to be in bed with the Big Ten and THE Ohio State University due to broadcast contracts, and go fucking flagellate themselves in some fucking monastery. Otherwise spare me your outrage and dismay, you fucks.

I mean, goddamn. Right now there are people getting shot in the head for standing up to dictators with nothing but rocks and sticks. Either tear this whole rotten fucking system down or stop giving a fuck. It's rotten and you know it. Fuck it.

Get Your Class War On

So there's this fucking asshole named Rand Paul who got himself elected senator from Kentucky. He fancies himself an intellectual, but in committee meetings he recycles arguments about low-flow toilets that were favorite topics of community-college forensics competitions in 1998.

Paul's also been going around to shows like Letterman and The Daily Show blathering about how the top 50% of earners pay 96% of the income taxes. Conservatives love touting that statistic; in part it's used as an argument for cutting taxes for the top earners, and it part it's used to stir up resentment for the bottom 50% who aren't paying taxes (but of course driving Cadillacs and buying steaks with their food stamps).

Now the thing is, it's true that the top earners have been paying a higher and higher percentage of the income taxes in the past several decades. Here's a handy graphic from some fucking conservative site.

Check out the dark blue. That's the top 1% of earners. Their share of total income taxes paid have risen to 30 fucking percent. The top 5% of earners pay 50% of the taxes. 

And look at those red fuckers. They ain't payin' nuthin'. Bunch of fucking freeloaders! The orange dudes aren't a whole lot better, for that matter. Time they pay their fair share, right?

After all, if we take money away from the rich, that's just less money for us, right? Because it all trickles down. You remember trickle down, don't you? Rich people spend their money on jobs, like for people to work in their factories or clean the toilets in their yachts or jack them off by the pool while they sip cocktails and read The Wall Street Journal. 

But.

I went and found me this other little fucking graphic.

You get a good look at that? Here it is again:

If you're too fucking stupid to read a graph, what it says is that since 1979 the top 1% of income earners have been getting more and more cash, while the other 99% have been getting ass-raped.

"Duhhhh, I don't care what other people make," you say. Get your thumb out of your ass and jump out the nearest window, you fucktard.

They pissed all over us, that's for sure, but that's not the kind of trickle down they were promising.

"So what?" you say. "So they made a lot of money. Why should we take it away from them?" Okay, you know what, I was about to reply, "Eat shit and die," but then I thought it about it a second, and I thought, okay, maybe that's a decent argument. Let's go with the idea that those top earners have earned the right to roll around in mountains of gold doubloons like Scrooge McDuck. Okay.

The problem, asshole, is that they don't want to just keep their mountains of gold. 

They want to take MORE from YOU, to wring out every last cent they can.

They want to cut your Social Security. They want to gut Medicare and Medicaid. That fuckface Paul Ryan wants to abolish Medicare AND cut upper-income taxes. They want to erase any healthcare reforms so the insurance companies can dump your preexisting-conditioned ass in order to "ensure healthy profits." They want you to swallow and accept wage cuts because "we all have to make sacrifices." 

The nerve of these vile cocksuckers to tell you to pay more because their earnings have gone up and yours haven't. That's hucksterism at it's very worst. These people are worse than every fucking snake oil salesman who ever lived. The slimiest used car salesman, the crookedest carny, have more integrity than pseudointellectual Rand Paul and the motherfucking assholes who try to pull this argument on you.

And here's one more chart just for good measure. It shows how burdensome taxes are to the fucking wealthy in this country.

From the authors:

That’s a line for every year from 1913 onward, sized and colored by the tax burden: the amount of tax due relative to the long-term average at each income level. Above-average burdens appear thick and red and below-average thin and blue.

Well, whaddyaknow. The fucking tax burden on the wealthy is at a historic LOW.

They aren't sacrificing FUCKING SHIT. They are rolling in their mountains of gold.

But rich motherfuckers like that cocksucking shitass Rand Paul, the guy who takes such enormous shits that he has to flush his toilet 10 times to get it all down, will smile and tell you it's right and just.

"You want some trickle down?" Sen. Paul will say. "Get on your knees and I'll piss all over you."

And he will, too. He's doing it right now. They all are. And then they'll laugh about it all the way to the bank.

They don't want you to think about it. They want you to be scared. They want you to worry about how the black man is GONNA GET YOU, and the gay person is GONNA GET YOU, and the Muslim person is GONNA GET YOU. When all the while it's the rich greedy cocksuckers who are robbing you blind.

Just remember this:

Take a look at that and tell me if it's right and just to cut your Social Security and Medicare and Medicaid and income and healthcare. Tell me where the fucking trickle down is.

They have no answer for that. Oh, they might shit out of their mouths about "global market forces" that are beyond our control. In other words, it's "natural" that they're getting richer and richer and you're getting poorer and poorer. It's "the way it was meant to be."

Funny how the people making that argument are always the ones on top.

Their latest line is about "tough sacrifices." But their idea of a tough sacrifice is when the king has to walk up to the edge of the volcano to toss your sorry ass in it. There's no shared sacrifice. None. Zero. And you don't dare raise their taxes. No! Think how that will affect the economy. It's okay to gut Social Security and Medicare and Medicaid and public education and everything else. It's okay to fuck you up the ass with a baseball bat wrapped with barbwire. But if you raise their taxes, they'll have less money, and therefore they'll spend less, and less will trickle down.

Hmm. How much of it was trickling down again?

Oh yeah. That's right. None of it.

FUCK THEM.

FUCK THEM TO HELL.

FUCK THEM TO HELL FOREVER.

It's way past time to GET YOUR CLASS WAR ON, MOTHERFUCKERS. They've been waging war against you for 30 FUCKING YEARS.

Quit honking at me, BITCH!

Is it just me, or has anyone else noticed a rash of fucking assholes honking their horns as soon as the light changes?

It's not a new phenomenon, I know. But I was wondering if some cockasses put in the new editions of driver's ed textbooks that it was okay to do that.

And they're not just honking at me. If they were, I might start thinking I had Alzheimer's and get myself checked out. They'll honk at fucking anybody.

If some fucko is just sitting at a green light yakking away on their goddamn cellphone, then I think it's okay to give them a little toot. I mean, after you've sat there 10 seconds or so. But while I know you think you've got the reflexes of some motherfucking NASCAR driver, not everyone floors it the instant the light changes. Wait a few goddamn seconds and calm your ass down. Go get a massage or jack off or something. Christ.

I don't want to start some road rage incident. I'm nothing if not reasonable. But goddamn, those horn fucks deserve the fucking finger more than anyone. What I really want to do is drive 5 miles an hour and then make jackoff gestures to them when they find a chance to pass me a mile down the road. But cocksuckers like that, they're likely to have a fucking gun.

It all goes back to people thinking they're so much more important than everyone else. Let me remind you, shitass: YOU'RE NOT. Gotta be somewhere in a hurry? TRY LEAVING EARLIER NEXT TIME, FUCKWIPE. Oh, and while you're at it, GO DRIVE IN FRONT OF A TRAIN.