The Bodhizoffa is no more. Unlike most celebrity deaths, this one takes the wind out of my sails. I grew up on the Swayze. Outsiders. Red Dawn. Youngblood. Point Break. And his masterpiece opus; Roadhouse. I even sat through multiple viewings of Dirty Dancing because it taught me that a) spoiled bitches should get credit for carrying watermelons and b) nobody puts Baby in a corner. Nobody. 11:14 made me realize how much I missed the Swayze in cinema. Fucking cancer. Both my grandfathers and Patrick Swayze? I guess it is your way or the highway, cancer. I cannot help think that if cancer manifested itself in the form of a human fighting opponent the Swayze would have torn its throat out with his bare hands and thrown its lifeless body into a backwoods lake and then scream, "Cancer! Cancer! Fuck you!" Sounds about right to me.

Labels: death, disease, pop culture

• Olympic gender-bending scandals.
• A history of modern art in three paragraphs. Marcel Duchamp did change art forever. As for the Dadaists being radically opposed to rational thought? That does not make them punk rock. It just makes them rebellious.
• Ted Kennedy is sleeping with Jesus. It has been a bad month for the Kennedys. I think Dennis Leary had it right: "They shot JFK, they shot RFK and when it came down to Ted they just said, 'Leave him be. He will fuck it all up on his own.'"
  

Labels: america, art, death, link goodness, politics, pop culture, sports

• The world's strongest vagina. It can lift 14 kilos? Whatever. I would like to see what it could do with ping pong balls. Seriously. I would really like to see that.
• A father and son that kill and bury hookers together stay together.
• I could not agree more, John Niven. Because you record some awesome shit like Dirty Diana you get a free pass of the kiddie-touchin'? Not on my watch you dead, twisted, clown-looking freak. It is not like you revolutionized industry and tried to get us to hate on some Jews. You fingered little boys in the ass and should be vilified accordingly; especially posthumously.
  

Labels: death, history, killing, link goodness, music, pop culture, vajayjay, whores

I am somewhat indifferent about MJ's passing as the King of Pop has been dead to me since 1993. On one hand, I owned Thriller on vinyl and am able to sing most of its songs from memory. On the other hand, kiddie-touchin'? Dude was always weird. But I would have been weird, too, if I were raised by a devout Jehovah's Witness that had a penchant for regular beatings and mental anguish. Still, weirdness and amazing talent should not give you a free pass on the kiddie-touchin'. The complete entertainment package that MJ was will be unmatched for years to come. The world is now left to ponder who the most talented Jackson alive is. Most will argue Janet, but I am calling Jermaine.

Labels: death, music, pop culture

• I cannot wait to have another baby only to see my kids do this to each other.
• "Yes, Jimmy. There is such thing as the freshman fifteen."
• Ed McMahon is sleeping with Jesus. Ed was most famous for being the Lancelot to Johnny Carson's King Arthur, hosting Star Search and giving old ladies heart attacks via Publisher's Clearinghouse. I was unaware that Ed was a retired Colonel and accomplished pilot in WWII and Korea.

Labels: babies, college, death, gluttony, link goodness, pop culture, tomfoolery

• Timberlake absolutely killed Saturday Night Live over the weekend. I am loving the Color Me Badd personas he and Samberg take on. Acid-washed jeans? Christ.
  
• The Denver Nuggets have been rolling through the first two rounds of the NBA playoffs. The main reason? Homegrown talent Chauncey Billups. I remember watching Chauncey eat my high school alive in the state basketball tournament back in '94. If the Nugs win it all, there is no player more deserving of MVP honors.
  
• Rwanda, fifteen years after the genocide. The new government granted Get Out Of Jail Free Cards to most participants of the single largest mass murder in African history. Good times.
  

Labels: death, denver, history, link goodness, music, pop culture, sports, war

Wil: You ever want to just generally fuck yourself up? Watch CNN World for two hours. The human race is not long for this planet.
Me: Agreed. Hopefully my unborn child will get something out of it all before it blows up.
Wil: I am kind of counting on him/her to fix it all, actually. Is that not going to happen?
Me: If he/she takes after the wife, yes. After me? We are doomed.
Wil: Your spawn has been spoken of in countless Nostradamus prophecies. "And she who kicketh ass in softball shall breed with he who has odd hair of the face, and together the savior is born."
Me: Wow. Thanks? Let us hope said spawn makes the animals go bonkers at the zoo ala The Omen. The original with Gregory Peck. Not that bag of dicks remake with Julia Styles.
Wil: Well played, sir. Going to go get some dinner here in Barcelona. If I can find a place with an early bird special at 8:30 PM, that is. The Spaniards do not like to sleep.
Me: Save for the daily siesta?
Wil: Right. Adios.

Labels: babies, death, im convos, movies, pop culture, wife, wil

At the entrance to Denver International Airport (DIA), a lone sculpture stands amidst the backdrop of high prairie and the distant Rocky Mountain front range; Mesteno (or as I like to call it, Demon Horse). The sculpture is a polarizing fixture as its bright red eyes eerily glow out over Pena Boulevard (at dawn or dusk, the effect is particularly creepy) and most Coloradans despise the sight of it. I like the sculpture and enjoy the satanic evilness of it. Besides, how could I openly bash a sculpture that killed its own creator? I do not taunt Demon Horse. For he may come alive with the magical powers of hellfire and gallop across the prarie to claim my soul. Or, at the very least, just fall on top of me and sever one of my arteries.

Labels: art, colorado, death, denver, evil

DC Comics has decided to end Bruce Wayne's run as Batman. I know killing off an iconic character got geeks and lukewarm comic fans alike to buy your graphic novel last time, DC Comics, but this is reeking of desperation. Take a page from Marvel Comics playbook and ditch marketing your printed books altogether and instead throw all your capital towards mediocre movies about second-tier characters. Another Batman movie has got to be better than Ghost Rider or Daredevil, right?

Labels: comics, death, geekery, movies, pop culture

As my seed festers in my wife's baby maker, I have been laying awake at nights and pondering life's important questions. Will I turn into the cold, unforgiving man my father was growing up when my unborn child arrives? Will I be able to afford diapers and a college fund? Will the wife and I stay happily married with the added stress of a newborn baby? Could DJ and I get away with beating Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt to death? I keep coming back to one nagging query; do I hate my job or do I hate my career? While I acknowledge I do not have the worst professional life by a long shot (I could be languishing in data sales, for example), I cannot say that I am satisfied with where I am currently at career-wise (nor, for that matter, have I ever been satisfied). I love what I do but I am finally acknowledging that I am running on creative fumes. A new job may be the answer. A full-time stab at freelance may be the answer. Writing the book I told myself I would write a long time ago may be the answer. In short; I am dealing with a lot of shit. Confucius once said "By three methods we may learn wisdom: first, by reflection, which is noblest; second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest." F'in A, Confucius. F'in A.

Labels: babies, career, death, dj, feelings, l-i-v-i-n, pop culture, wife

As a youngster I would go for dinner at my grandparents house at least once a week. My Italian grandmother was an amazing cook and made some of the most glorious feasts (her lentil soup and pot roast can never be duplicated). After dinner we would retire to the family room to watch some Golden Girls. I recall my grandmother laughing hysterically at Sophia on a regular basis. Maybe it was because they had similar personalities. Or that they were both Italian. Or they were both five feet tall, one hundred pounds and intimidating as hell. Whatever it was, Estelle Getty will always hold a special place in my heart for being able to continually crack my grandmother's iron resolve.

Labels: death, family, nostalgia, pop culture

DJ: The Elliot Spitzer prostitute flow chart.
Me: See, now this is why I hate society. I mean, who cares if he buys a whore? Aside from killing her I am cool with it. Even then, it is circumstances such as these that killing a hooker seems acceptable.
DJ: So basically you just want a class of disposable people?
Me: Have you ever been inside a Wal-Mart Super Center on a weekend? I would say we are already there.
DJ: Nice.

Labels: death, dj, im convos, pop culture, whores

• The man who quipped "The name is Dalton..." after his set/bar fight at the Double Deuce is no more. Godspeed, Mr. Healey. I thought you would be bigger.
• Bacon cups. I may have the wife whip me up some bacon cups so I can pack them full of bacon bits and have a heart attack upon consumption.
  
• A photo essay about Uncle Dirty (NSFW). Uncle Dirty has a hog, friends. Enjoy the thong photo (near the bottom) which displays Uncle Dirty's skid marks are welcome.

Labels: bacon, death, link goodness, movies, perversion, pop culture, wife

Last night I walked downstairs to adjust the settings on the sprinkler control box and noticed a mess of feathers strewn about the basement. There I found our kitten, MJ, sitting cocksure over a dead bird with her smooth, serpentine tail slapping against the cold concrete floor. I caught her primal gaze and a bursting sense of pride welled up inside me. "Take that you stupid bird," I thought. Then I did what any parent would do after they learned their child had just committed murder: lavish praise on said child (or in this case, said kitty) and than dispose of the body.

Labels: death, killing, kitty

Today a lone gunman killed 33 people (including his best shot, himself) and injured 28 at Virginia Tech, making it the second worse school-related mass murder in US history. Number one on the list is still the 1927 Bath School Disaster, followed by the 1999 Columbine Massacre and finally the 1966 Whitman Tower Shootings at the University of Texas. Being a veteran of the Columbine Massacre media frenzy (the shooting was less than 20 miles from my house) here is a list of things you can expect to happen in the next year:

• Local news media will interview individuals that had no involvement in the event save that they were enrolled at the school at the time said event occurred. Most normal family and friends close to the victims will grieve in private rather than talk to guys like Geraldo.
• Comparisons will run rampant between similar school shooting tragedies. Most news agencies will lead in tonight's broadcast with, "Only four days away from the eighth anniversary of the Columbine Massacre..."
• An analytical breakdown of the killer's lifestyle habits including what video games he played, what music he listened to, what books he read, what movies he watched and how disturbing his writing was on his Blog/MySpace page. Armchair psychologists will then diagnose the killer with a host of disorders that would have indicated he was going to commit mass murder sometime in the near future.
• The authorities will be blamed for not responding fast enough or for covering something up.
• Proposed knee-jerk gun control legislation will be drafted/enacted to prevent a tragedy like this from ever happening again.
• A fabricated religious subplot will unfold and parents will exploit their dead children by writing books about them (like this and this).
• Virginia residents will be able to commemorate the tragedy by registering their State's own "Respect Life" license plates (like this). Fellow drivers will then be able to relive the horrific event everyday during rush hour traffic.

Labels: columbine, death, history, mass murder

Kurt Vonnegut died late last in Manhattan. He was 84. He is one of my favorite writers and I know the world will miss him. He witnessed the firebombing of Dresden firsthand and based parts of his most famous work Slaughterhouse-Five on the experience. He wrote many books, but in my opinion, A Man Without A Country was one of his best. He ends the book with this fitting poem:

When the last living thing
has died on account of us,
how poetical it would be
if Earth could say,
in a voice floating up
perhaps
from the floor
of the Grand Canyon,
"It is done."
People did not like it here.

I'm sure Kurt is up in heaven now.

Labels: books, death, pop culture

Minutes ago I heard sirens nearby and instantly thought the authorities were raiding another meth lab in the neighboring apartment complex or that another unit in our town home community was on fire. I set foot outside to witness paramedics wheeling out a dead body four units down.'Burb livin' is hardcore, yo. Represent.

Labels: death, l-i-v-i-n, the fairways

Anna Nicole Smith is dead from popping a handful of sedatives and choking on her own vomit. Glamorous. Is anyone shocked? Anyone besides other drugged out bitches with balloons surgically implanted in their chest cavity? It was just a matter of time before Anna Nicole's major organs exploded due to heavy narcotic intake. I am done with the major news outlets already; especially those comparing her to Marilyn Monroe. Marilyn was a smoking hot sexpot and had talent. Anna Nicole had a big rack and a penchant slurring her way through interviews. Marilyn had a stable that was the envy of most straight women of her era: JFK, RFK, Joey D and Arthur Miller. Anna Nicole's stable included a billionaire that looked like an exhumed corpse, a Jewish lawyer that weighs a buck twelve and random strip club patrons that paid her $200 for a champagne room hand job.

Labels: boobs, death, drugs, pop culture, whores

• Wikipedia for Halloween.
• Halloween costumes for sluts. My personal favorites: Teacher's Pet, Alice In Wonderland, Whore Ballerina, Herpes Care Bear and Bondage Whip Cat Woman. Disturbing items: Homo-erotic Roman Warrior costume and the sexy plus-size costume section (note the complete lack of realistic models that could adorn the "three-man tent tarp" size). A note to sexy costume manufacturers everywhere: Your plus-size section should consist of one costume; a king-size white sheet with eye holes cut out labeled "Sexy Ghost That Eats Too Much."
• Anna Nicole Smith is facing the possibility of exhuming her son's dead body.
• Wikipedia for Samhain (the festival, not the bag of assholes band Glenn Danzig fronted after the dissolution of the Misfits).
• Outsiders soliloquy performed by a talentless hack for the now dead Stanley Kubrick.

Labels: death, halloween, link goodness, movies, music, pop culture, whores

• Tobacco companies have been increasing nicotine in cigarette brands popular with high school kids and minorities for the past decade. For those power smokers out there wanting that big nicotine fix, The MB suggests you start puffing away on Marlboros, Dorals or Kools.
• Twenty things you didn't know about death.
• A confession forum for Christians addicted to porn. Good times.

Labels: death, link goodness, religion

Aside from the fringe human population that enjoy slitting hooker's throats and bathing in their blood, most human beings have a deep aversion to killing. This poses a problem when one's job requires them to kill (e.g. soldiers, police officers, CFOs). Conditioning people to kill and deal with the psychological consequences is known as Killology; a lovely neologism coined by Dave Grossman. He even wrote an uplifting book on the matter that I just added it to my Amazon Wish List.

Labels: death, killing

I apologize for my neglect of the MB lately as work has kept me busier than your mom after inhaling Poppers at an anal sex convention. I have been catching up after three weeks of ruining my life and the subsequent celebration of ruining my life in a third world country. On with today's link goodness:

• Graphic representation in the form of nationalistic coffins of the mounting death toll in the Israel-Lebanon conflict (updated daily).
• An open letter to a mental case into mini-fridges.
• A Japanese game show that gives contestants a little "How's Your Father" for incorrect answers.

Labels: death, drugs, link goodness, open letter, perversion, war

Rest in peace, Mr. Furley. We hardly knew ye.

Labels: death, pop culture

• Bestiality is now illegal in Washington inspired by a pervert that was thankfully removed from the human gene pool by a giant horse cock.
• Skyscraper escape pods inspired by the the victims that plummeted to their deaths from the burning floors of the World Trade Center.
• A marriage contract inspired by a personality disorder.
• A passion for wrestling not inspired by a ruptured testicle.

Labels: bestiality, death, history, link goodness, perversion, tomfoolery

The California Supreme Court has rejected Tookie Willams, co-founder of the Crips, appeal for a stay of execution. The killing is set to take place tomorrow unless granted clemency Governor Schwarzenegger (insert bad "You're fired" True Lies line here). Tookie maintains his innocence from the murder charges to this day. He also had a thing for the close contact shotgun action:

According to the forensic pathologist, Yen-I Yang suffered two shotgun wounds. One shotgun wound was to his left arm and abdomen. This wound shredded Yen-I's left arm, fractured his ribs, and shattered his spleen, right kidney, bowel and large vessels. The other shotgun wound was to the lower left chest. This wound also fractured ribs and shattered the spleen, right kidney, bowel and large vessels. Moreover, a plastic shotgun shot container and associated wadding were recovered from the base of Yen-I's liver. The pathologist further explained that both of the Yen-I Yang's wounds were inflicted when the end of the muzzle was only feet from Yen-I's body. Yee-Chen Lin was shot once in the upper left face area at a distance of a few feet. She was transported from the scene by paramedics to Centinela Hospital where she died at 7:36 am.

On a lighter note: Congratulations to my sister (and her husband) who successfully delivered a bouncing baby boy early Saturday morning. Tale of the tape: Caleb John; 7 pounds 13 ounces and 20 inches long. I cannot wait to give that kid scotch whiskey, dirty magazines and smokes for his sixth birthday. Maybe even a shotgun.

Labels: crime, death, family, murder, pop culture

Pere Lachaise cemetery in Paris has fenced off a famous tomb to prevent lewd acts being performed on the sepulcher cover. Apparently the statue's crotch has seen more action than Tommy Lees'. Unlike Tommy Lee's junk, however, you do not have to get checked for gonorrhea and hepatitis after rubbing up on it.

Labels: death, perversion, pop culture

• Thailand is portraying imagery of bad teeth, tumors and death instead of verbal cues as warnings on cigarette packs.
• "Cool Mom" Silvia Johnson (reacquaint yourself with the saga here and here) is moving to scenic Canon City, Colorado for the next 30 years. With that haircut I think she'll fit right in.
• I did not know it was so easy to get Mormons to jump from moving cars. Any Latter Day Saints out there need a ride? (In all honesty, we probably would not make it to backing out of the driveway).

Labels: bad parents, colorado, death, link goodness, mormons, perversion, silvia johnson

• A chart of reported suicides off the Golden Gate Bridge.
• Fucking dirtyhippies.
• The trebuchet was a siege weapon that was primarily used to fire plague-ridden corpses and other missiles over castle walls. It was not intended for college students looking for kicks on a Friday night.

Labels: death, disease, link goodness, stupidity, suicide, tomfoolery

• A frightening haunted house. Frightening not because of superb effects and realistic horror scenarios but because it is operated by a registered sex offender.
• A classic Halloween prank goes awry in trailer park. The world is shocked.
  
• Wikipedia for the man who killed Halloween. Thanks to this prick and the paranoia he caused, I did not have a Snickers bar until I was in junior high. My dad would "check" all of my candy post trick-or-treating and deem it safe for consumption. He would take all the Snickers bars out of my bag and say things like, "This one is no good, son. It is poisoned" or "You cannot eat this one. It looks like someone tampered with it." These "tainted" candy bars then found their way into my Dad's secret candy stash for him to enjoy periodically through out the year. Fuck you, Candyman.
  

Labels: death, halloween, link goodness, perversion, tomfoolery

Links Jake would have sent me this morning if he was not unplugged in Boston:

• Diseased monkeys threaten San Juan, Puerto Rico.
• A cockfight grenade attack.
• Pig tattooing.

Labels: death, jake, link goodness, monkeys, tattoos

Islamic terrorist attacks hit London's public transport system during the morning commute. Damn. Send some love to our Limey friends across the Atlantic.

Labels: death, history

• An image bank of celebrities playing table tennis. My personal favorite is Mr. Ed wielding the paddle.
• It is raining men. Hallelujah.
  
• If you gave someone crabs and need to let them know send an eCard. There is nothing like getting notified via email that you have gonorrhea. My favorite feature is the ability to send one card to multiple addresses (a.k.a. the "slut blast"). I am tempted to send an email to my entire contact list informing them that I gave them herpes and signing it Ron Mexico.

Labels: death, link goodness, pop culture, sex

Yesterday, a squirrel ran underneath my moving car and committed suicide. I saw the little bastard out of the corner of my eye as I drove down the street and assumed he would not tempt fate by running into the street until I was past. As I came closer, the disturbed vermin darted out from the curb and I flattened his ass. The squirrel had some emotional issues and my Firestone radial happened to be a means to an end. He is survived by a family of ninety infested with the bubonic plague.

Labels: death, tomfoolery

• A funeral procession led by the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile.
• A car crashes into the second story of a house.
• Longtime reader and friend of the MB got a haircut over the weekend in preparation for the upcoming Trixter concert.

Labels: death, link goodness, music, pop culture

• Architectural projects for the Soviet Union (circa 1930-1950) that were never realized. My personal favorites: The Palace of Soviets and The Aeroflot Building.
• Carmen Electra's Advanced Aerobic Striptease.
  
• The ten biggest threats to Earth and life as we know it. I am hoping humanity does not get wiped out by a viral pandemic (too boring) or terrorists (too cliche). If anything, I am pulling for a super volcano to rain down ash and fire on us or for hyper-intelligent robots to turn our planet into a goddamn apocalyptic nuclear wasteland like in The Terminator.
• The Philadelphia Flyers Have a Time Machine: Installment Four.

Labels: death, hockey, link goodness, pop culture, science, sex, sports

Rapper C Murder is changing his professional name to C Miller because he thinks people misunderstand him and perceive him as a killer. I do not think it is the name that makes me think C Miller is down with homicide so much as it is the conviction and mandatory life sentence for second degree murder.

Labels: death, music, pop culture

The pontiff is no more. Rumor has it the next pope may be Latin American. Me? I am pulling for a Jew. Rest in peace, JP the Deuce. We hardly knew ye.

Labels: death, religion

The MB will be experiencing down time for few days as I ditch Yahoo! Web Hosting* and make the transition over to Joyent. Until then entertain yourself with this:

• Four men steal a goat, beat it to death with hammers, butcher it and then trade the goat steaks to a drug dealer named Smalls (he uses the meat to feed his fighting pit bulls) for crack.
• German artist Gunther von Hagens wants to build a corpse art factory. The girlfriend and I will be in Chicago the same time his exhibit Bodyworlds is showing. I will have to talk her into going to see it (Read: Vanilla Stoli).
• A woman digs up the remains of her ex-boyfriend to spite his family. She adds insult to injury by drinking the beer and smoking the cigarettes that were buried with him.

*After being a loyal customer for just under five years, Yahoo! Web Hosting failed to inform me that my package was lowered five dollars nearly six months ago and did not bother switching me to the lower rate automatically. After emailing Yahoo! about this oversight, they responded with an auto-generated email thanking me for my inquiry. In short, Yahoo! Web Hosting sucks the sweat off of a dead donkey's balls.

Labels: death, drugs, geekery, rage, technology

Addendum to my escalator preparedness rule: Make sure your escape plan includes a way out of a hooded sweatshirt.

Labels: death, tomfoolery

Hunter S. Thompson, the pioneer of gonzo journalism, killed himself. During my first trip to Las Vegas I remember staring at the casino carpet and laughing my ass off. I had just read Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas on the plane. Sonny Barger admitted post Hells Angels that Hunter is (was) the greatest writer in the world. That is saying a lot for a guy that wanted to kill him.

Labels: books, death, pop culture, vegas

Anti-seat belt activist loses his debate. An excerpt:

In a column written for the Daily Nebraskan in September, Derek attacked seat belt laws as intrusions on individual liberties and expensive to enforce. "It is my choice what type of safety precautions I take," he wrote. "There seems to be a die-hard group of non-wearers out there who simply do not wish to buckle up no matter what the government does. I belong to this group."

I wonder if these were Captain Liberty's last thoughts before his head splattered all over the interstate. I wear a seat belt but not because there is law saying I have to. I buckle up because in the event of an accident, I do not want to exit my automobile at sixty miles per hour skull first through the windshield. Spending my formidable years eating through a straw and having loved ones empty my colostomy bag is not very appealing.

Labels: death, stupidity

In high school I listened to thrash metal almost exclusively. I considered Pantera to be the quintessential hardcore band (even overlooking their three pussy metal albums before the big thrash breakthrough Cowboys From Hell). They took hold of my immature teenage mind and led me to believe that punching people in the face was cool, tattooing "Unscarred" on your stomach illustrated that how tough you were and serenading a lady with the song This Love was the most efficient way to win her heart.* Back then I would have been downtrodden if Phil Anselmo and the boys broke up, but I doubt I would have dealt with my grief by firing six bullets at point blank range into Dimebag's head.

* During my sophomore year I made a mixed tape that included This Love for my girlfriend, Crystal. I believed that she would enjoy the song and award me originality points for its placement amongst the cacophony of hair band ballads. Our relationship was over by summer's end (upon my discovery of cheap liquor and loose women) and I assumed the mixed tape became a relationship casualty of war. Fast-forward eight years into the future to Crystal's wedding. While dancing with her during the traditional dollar dance, she mentions to me that she still has the This Love mix tape. Yeah, it is that easy.

Labels: death, glory days, music, pop culture

Forty-one years ago today, Lee Harvey Oswald allegedly assassinated John F. Kennedy. Due to the magic of the internet, kids can now relive the moment by participating in an interactive reconstruction from the perspective of Oswald's scope. Mafia/Communists/Government be damned!

Labels: death, history, killing

Rest in peace Ol' Dirty Bastard. We hardly knew ye.

Labels: death, music, pop culture

Lately it seems like a fraternity in Colorado is more like a funeral home (CU and CSU). I think there should be a class in college called Drinking 101 that teaches kids the subtle nuances of alcohol consumption. Here a few topics that should to be on the syllabus:

• When you have lost feeling in your extremities and are blacking out, it is time to put the bottle of schnapps down.
• If you are a young, attractive female you should not drink nor hang out at a frat house. These places are havens for date rape, alcohol poisoning and disease. It would be much cleaner and safer to drink in a construction site port-o-potty with a used dildo.
• Under no circumstances should you participate in any shenanigans with somebody that has passed out; this especially includes placing your testicles on somebody's face and taking a picture. It is called karma and she is a cruel bitch.

Labels: college, colorado, death, drinking

• An angry, sexually frustrated chimpanzee in a Chinese zoo has taken to smoking cigarettes and spitting on people.
• A very intoxicated man and his friend drive home from the bar. The very intoxicated man smashes into a telephone pole and decapitates his friend. The very intoxicated man drives home twelve miles with a headless corpse in the passenger seat, parks the truck in the driveway and passes out in blood soaked clothing. (Disturbing aside: Four people sent me this link today).
• Crazy tirades from the imprisoned Bobby Fischer the former American former world chess champion.

Labels: crazy, death, drinking, link goodness, monkeys, pop culture

Life expectancy is dropping in Africa thanks to the AIDS. In Zambia, 17% of the population has the virus and a child born between 2000 and 2005 can expect to live just 32.4 years. Damn. We need some altruistic condom company to bring relief via free prophylactics. The time is nigh to rubber up on the Dark Continent.

Labels: death, disease, sex

Sometimes life is a kitty being rescued from certain death and other times it is cocaine-induced infanticide in the bathroom of a ramshackle sports bar.

Labels: dead babies, death, drugs, kitty

"Her face was so pretty, regardless of the blood."

Labels: death, quote of the day

Disney World is the happiest place on Earth. Unless you are a Cuban immigrant in a Goofy suit, that is.

Labels: death, pop culture

After a morbidly obese woman crushed a toddler with her girth she proclaimed, "I'm crying. I'm hurting. I don't know what to do." Here is a suggestion: Go on a diet.

Click here for a related link regarding girth and mortality.

Labels: death, gluttony, science

Drinking contests are not a good idea. Someone always ends up vomiting. Or dying.

Labels: death, drinking, tomfoolery

This subway ride is boring. I need to do something to spice it up. I know what I will do. I will open this door and climb on top of this bitch and ride it the rest of the way home. It will be like surfing. This is going to be so cool. My friends are going to remember this for the rest of their lives.

Labels: death, drinking

Update on Big Lurch; The MB's favorite aspiring rapper who smokes angel dust and eats bitches lungs.

Disturbing Aside: I forgot when I wrote my initial post on Big Lurch. Instead of sifting through my blog archives due to my laziness, I decided to Google "eating a bitches lungs." I chuckled as I hit enter thinking it was a long shot at best. The MB is the number one search result. The internet is magical.

Labels: crazy, death, drugs, music

The Man in Black is no more. Godspeed, Johnny. Be sure to say hello to Jack Tripper when you get there.

Labels: death, music, pop culture

Larry Flynt is a scumbag pervert that peddles smut to like-minded scumbag perverts who enjoy seeing pseudo-lesbians piss on each other and stuff wine bottles up their assholes. That being said, I love it when he pulls shit like this.

Labels: death, lesbians, pop culture, porn

Saddam Hussein's sons are dead. Uday apparently thought he was Tony Montana and Caligula rolled into one.

Labels: death, politics, war

Sorry about the previous post. After reading it over again, I now realize how depressing it is. It is indicative of what a late hockey game, two Newcastles and an ex-girlfriend's rambling, feeling-laden telephone tirade can do to a man at two o'clock in the morning. Even more depressing is the fact that I cannot alleviate the pain of our breakup by tossing a toaster into her bubble bath. Fucking government and their mandated circuit-breakers.

Labels: death, drinking, feelings, hockey, she who

When I was a youngster, my mom would always encourage me to go outside and play. I usually complied and got my bike out of the garage to ride around or met up with the rest of the neighborhood kids in the area vacant lot for a game of baseball (sadly, a headless corpse never fell from the sky during one of our games). One a hot summer day, a neighborhood kid thought we should get a game of Dungeons and Dragons going. We briefly read the rules, made up our characters, rolled the 12-sided die and got our geek on. Within the hour my avatar was slain and I was out of the game. Two neighborhood kids proceeded to play that game for another three weeks. Little did we know at the time we were fucking around with dark forces, Satanism and the occult. Coincidentally those two kids grew up to be the biggest drug dealers at my high school. The dark influences of DnD or absentee fathers with a penchant for hardcore pornography and liquor? You be the judge.

Labels: a-town, childhood, death, evil, geekery, nostalgia

One of the great mysteries of the universe is how on December 8, 1980, Mark David Chapman shot and killed John Lennon but spared Yoko Ono. I do not think it was too much to ask for an errant hollowed point bullet to cut down that peace-loving bitch in her prime. It may seem cruel to call for the death of another human being, but I assure you it is not as cruel as listening to the politics of an aging hippy for the next twenty plus years.

Labels: death, history, killing, music, pop culture

I am pro-choice and support the death penalty, so I am down with killing criminals and partially developed fetuses. Many individuals that are pro-life view existence as precious and believe in a Calvinistic doctrine of predestination. Whatever our beliefs are, in this case, I think most Americans would have been handing this would be mother a coat hanger.

Labels: america, death, killing, politics, religion

Fans at a Great White concert got their money's worth when a pyrotechnic display sent the concert hall up in flames. Over seventy people are reported dead and the body count is mounting. The aftermath of the fire left many asking questions. Questions like, how did Great White sell three hundred fucking tickets? In lieu of the tragedy, band members had only this to say: "Thank you West Warwick! Good night!"

Labels: death, music, pop culture

Adrenaline junkies looking for a rush are making pilgrimages to the Bolivia's Yungas Road (commonly referred to as the Highway of Death). I understand the draw of adrenaline sports to a certain degree, but riding your mountain bike down a narrow passageway locals call el Camino de la Muerte seems pretty fucking stupid. I would rank it up there with bathing in chum and then swimming in shark infested waters, dropping racial epitaphs amongst a group of liquored up black guys playing craps on a street corner and sticking a fork into a light socket.

Labels: death, sports, stupidity

• Kids in the Denver metro area will be braving a cold Halloween night. I will refuse candy to a child if I see their parents dropping them off in a car. If these spoiled punks want sugar, they better be out in the elements with a pillowcase risking hypothermia, pneumonia and frostbite. I want kids half frozen at my front door with teeth chattering. Then and only then will I give them two mini-Reese's Peanut Butter Sticks.
• A Cheers for serial killers. Ted Bundy, one of the Hillside Stranglers and John Allen Muhammad have all spent nights at the draining cold ones.
• Jam Master Jay was gunned down at his recording studio in Queens yesterday. Rest in Peace Jam Master Jay; the turntables might wobble but they won't fall down.

Labels: death, denver, drinking, halloween, link goodness, music, pop culture, serial killers

I was in Boy Scouts for a clip when I was a kid. I received a knife safety badge, a silver medal in the Pinewood Derby and went on assorted nature hikes. I have pleasant memories of my time in Boy Scouts, just as I am sure these youngsters will fondly remember the day they found a severed head at the Scout Jamboree.

Labels: america, childhood, death, nostalgia

I spent the weekend carving pumpkins and conquering Hitman 2: Silent Assassin. For the majority of the game, I used stealth to sneak up on a motherfucker and blast their head to smithereens with a silenced 9mm pistol. During the final mission I applied a different approach, equipped myself with an M60 machine gun and decimated a plethora of enemies in a satisfying orgy of blood, gore and death. I now wait in anticipation for Grand Theft Auto Vice City to be delivered to me later this week.

On a related note, some Wal-Mart stores are yanking violent video games off of their shelves. It is a solid moral decision from a company that rapes Southeast Asia for slave labor, provides their employees unlivable wages and miserable benefits and uses predatory pricing to destroy small business owners.

Labels: death, geekery, killing, pop culture, weekend that was

There is nothing I love more than the ingenuity of a teenager in search of a buzz. Lighting bus shelters on fire and getting high on the fumes seems to be the pinnacle of ingenuity.

Inhalants never seem to go out of style with the kids. I spent countless hours in my formidable years assembling model cars in the garage and I took a pull off the glue bottle bottle every now and then but that was as far as it went for me. The kids I went to school with, however, were inhalant fiends. There was the kid who enjoyed huffing gas from the lawnmower can in his shed. There was the kid who used to douse screwdrivers in cans of paint thinner and then inhale the fumes from the tips of said screwdrivers. There was the kid who was found dead in his room after huffing too much gas from a spent SCUBA tank. Lastly, there was the freaky goth bitch that sat behind me in life science class who used to get cheap highs from the nail polish and Liquid Paper stashed away in her ESprit bag (inhalants were the least of her problems as her mother had a penchant for test driving her teenage boyfriends. Rumor is they were both on Maury a few years back). I am guessing all those kids (save for the dead one) have graduated on to meth.

Labels: a-town, death, drugs, nostalgia, pop culture

There are many ways to kill oneself in a quick, painless manner and 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 crocodiles.

Labels: death, stupidity, suicide

Today marks the twentieth anniversary of John Belushi's overdose via Speedball. The autopsy and police report from that day can be seen here. His last days on earth went something like this:

Belushi sits fat, naked and bloated on the toilet of some random, fleabag hotel in Southern California. He is hanging out with a dirty crack whore who he met the week prior and has been up for the past three days with her mainlining whiskey, pot, coke and smack. "Hey, I got an idea," remarks the junkie whore. "We should start speedballing so we no longer feel the depression of coming down from our high(s) anymore." Belushi agrees. "Great idea. We will be so high. Fix me up!" Hijinks ensue.

Labels: death, drugs, pop culture