I love it when it is nudie magazine day because awaiting in my mailbox will be the newest issue of Playboy. I jump around like a little kid tuned up on cane sugar. This month the Girls of the Big XII appear naked. Not all the girls from the Big XII, mind you, just the really hot ones. A Baylor frat house is in trouble for appearing fully clothed in said issue, whereas the women who posed did not even get a smack on the ass, er, wrist. From the "Keep you mouth shut and just take your shirt off' file," one of the models had this to say about the Christian folk who reprimanded the fraternity: "I'm a Christian myself and I don't believe anyone should impose any beliefs on another person." I think it is safe to say she is not majoring in World History.

Labels: boobs, porn

I tuned into the first season of Survivor continually hoping it would go the way of Lord Of The Flies and contestants would kill the fat pasty guy and dance around a giant pigs head on a stick but alas, it was not to be. Network executives took the success of that show and saturated the viewing public with three more forgettable installments. The fifth season is set to kick off this September and with fledging ratings, this guy is bound to attract viewers of his late night work on Cinnemax.

Labels: pop culture, skinemax

Despite the objections of the Five Man Electrical Band and Tesla, signs seem to work. When most see a No Smoking sign they abstain from lighting up their dirt sticks. Most people will not park next to a No Parking sign. Society tends to obey signs with a Pavlovian reflex. In Santa Cruz, the Deputy District Attorney ordered all dumpsters be adorned with the sticker No Baby Dumping in hopes that it will discourage reluctant mothers from throwing their babies away. I think this is a good idea and hope it works. If we see a decrease in dumpster babies we should try signs like "Absolutely No Murder." Or "Gang Rape Strictly Prohibited." Or "Do Not Masturbate On The Dairy Products." Why not try it out? My junior high school gym teacher once said that it never hurts to try. Of course, He liked to watch us shower after class but that is neither here nor there.

Labels: dead babies, society

Delaware is a miserable little state. Just ask Jonathan Chait, a writer who was caught in traffic on one of their toll roads. He spent countless hours researching why he hated the tiny expanse of land so much. After reading his dissertation, he convinced me that Delaware is a state running amok with backwards legislation and parasitic practices. I now despise Delaware and everything they stand for. Fuck you, Delaware. And while we're at it, fuck you too, Texas.

Labels: rage

My neighbor moved in less than one week ago. I attempted to say hello to him and he just ignored my friendly platitudes. In the early hours of this very morning, I decided my new neighbor is stupid and I hate him.

Around midnight, I had just finished watching American Pimp on HBO when I remembered it was trash day. I walked down the stairs and into my garage to put the trash cans out and I was smacked around like a trailer park wife with the pungent aroma of gasoline. My first thought was my car was leaking gas, so I checked underneath it. Nothing. I concluded that my neighbor was huffing gas in his garage like some middle school kids in a deserted park. I did not think too much of it so I shut my garage and proceeded upstairs to bed. Within minutes the smell of gas was everywhere and strong enough to make me nauseous. In a rational and calm manner I proceeded to yell obscenities out the window at him. I noticed emergency lights outside on the street and next to his customized, rusted Ford Bronco a team of police and firemen were circled around it. Apparently, MacGyver ruptured his gas tank with a screwdriver trying to change his oil in his garage and instead of finding a bucket or some empty liquid holding device to catch the falling fuel, he let the gas pour out all over his garage, started the vehicle quickly and drove it across the street leaking gas the entire way. He parked next to the gutter and let the gas leak into it and then walked back to inside and went to bed. In the end, he received a ticket, they towed his piece of shit Bronco away and my town home was awash in gas fumes until about 6:30 this morning. The stupid fucking bastard. I hope he trips on his front steps and the fall renders him unconscious so I can walk by and kick him in the face until he dies.

Labels: stupidity, the fairways

There are many ways to kill oneself in a quick, painless manner; this is not one of them. On my list of ways to kill myself, jumping into a pit of crocodiles ranks somewhere between smashing my face in with a brick and sticking my penis into a jet engine. Chug a bottle of sleeping pills. Drink yourself into a coma. Put your head in front of a shotgun, pull the trigger, and splatter your head all over the wall behind you. Jump off of a goddamn building. Hang yourself. Do anything other than throwing yourself into a pit of hungry and agitated crocodiles.

Labels: death, suicide

The feud between Mark and I has officially ended; settled like men with switchblade knives. My crew and I rumbled Mark and his boys in the parking lot of a run down tavern in Aurora. Granted, my gang may have been outclassed and out danced, they are, after all, just a motley bunch of ex-con drug addicts; but when you are in a knife fight, what counts is whom you cut and how deep you cut them.

The fight went something like this: Mark insisted that we hold hands instead of the traditional binding of the wrists with a bandanna (or as us choreographed fighting gangsters call it a "doo rag"). Our collective crews encircled us, making sure that our rumble would end in a bloodbath if anyone tried to escape. Somewhere in the distance, heavy guitar riffs were played as we circled around each other like vultures over a fresh kill. Mark struck first, slicing off my right nipple and sticking me in the pancreas. I countered stabbing him in the kidneys, head, neck and chest area. When the dust settled, Mark was on the ground bleeding and I stood over him, arms raised in victory. We then proceeded to limp into the bar and did Jagermeister shots until we threw up.

From this day on, I will always admire the tenacity and heart of young Mark. He fought like a cornered pit bull with its nuts cut off. My respect for him will be carried out until my dying day.

If you want to learn how to knife fight, click here. There is also a book written specifically about knife fighting.

Labels: /mark, knife fighting

Thanks to my friend John Croghan who sent me this link, my thoughts are consumed with ninjas. Ninjas: mythical stealth assassins that are masters of the shadows, silently dropping from rooftops, slicing an enemy's throat, and then watching them die quickly in a pool of their own blood and excrement. That is all in a days work for a ninja.

Before I delve into the realm of the ridiculous, I suggest you read about the historical ninja.

Now, diving into the ridiculous with flippers and a snorkel mask, I thoroughly recommend this site to anybody who likes one or all of these things: cheerleaders, ninjas, schoolgirls, and nudity. Spend the time to watch the video clips; trust me. They will teach you things. Things like cheerleader ninjas do not wear panties.

Here are a few my favorite ninja things:

• Favorite ninja video game: Tenchu, Stealth Assassins (On OG PlayStation).
• Favorite ninja arcade game: Ninja Gaiden (I wasted many quarters on this game).
• Favorite cartoon ninja: Storm Shadow (from GI Joe).
• Favorite ninja movie: American Ninja.

Labels: johnny ballgame, ninjas, tomfoolery

After taking most of the summer off like the Colorado Rockies, I have come back to the world wide web, more cut, more shredded than Rocky Balboa did to face Clubber Lang for the second time in Rocky III. In case your Ray Charles and have not noticed the super sexy site overhaul, The MB has a new look that is bound to make you question fundamental web designing truths. I hope you enjoy it.

In my absence, I have been ridiculed and ostracized due to my flight to free agency in my roller hockey league (Read all about it here). A young punk named Mark thought it was wise to open his ballwasher and question my actions. Not only are you unaware of the situation as to why I left the Slashing Hyena Organization, Mark, your claims are unwarranted and untrue (especially the part about me being a star athlete). Keep in mind, my friend, that if I had not the left the club, there would not be an open spot on the roster for you to fill; so stick that in your pipe and smoke it. That being said, I intend to destroy you and eat your face when we meet out there on the rink. Then, in the manner of a true Hockey player, I will get you drunk on cheap beer when the smoke has cleared and you are re putting your arms back in their sockets.

Speaking of eating people, read this, and tell me how absolutely insane it is. Seriously. Tell me.

Labels: /mark, hockey, l-i-v-i-n, summer