What happened to the days on TV when a man could walk into a grocery store Benny Hill-style, hand in pocket, and he’s just YANKING his crank furiously underneath his sweatpants? Meanwhile he thinks he’s being so cool about it but everyone refuses to make eye contact with him.
Why can’t we make TV like that anymore?
That’s the worst thing about politics becoming serious entertainment: nothing’s funny anymore.
Every joke is the same tired crap: shitting on transgenderism, “cancel culture” ruining everything, conservatives are brainwashed, blah blah blah….
Remember that terrible painting of Jesus guiding the pen of Donald Trump? Chuckle all you want, but that painting best represents the absurdity of our times and it will almost certainly be in a prestigious museum 500 years from now where smart people will dispassionately evaluate its historical significance.
Nothing can be stupid and pointless for the sake of being stupid and pointless anymore.
Thanks anyway jackass forever, but too little too late.
A pervert can no longer be just a pervert. Back in my day…the 1970s (when I was about 52)…a man could walk into a peep show, take out their penis, and flip a quarter to the janitor for all their troubles.
We accepted that no woman would allow us within 40 feet of their vagina. At least not without paying for it first. And that was okay.
If any “alcoholic” tells you that it is easier to quit alcohol than to quit nicotine then you know that they aren’t a real alcoholic.
Quitting nicotine has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Sure, I got pissed off a lot. I cried a few times. Hell, some days I’d even stare into the void and ponder ways to kill myself. But I overcame it.
And through these trials and tribulations, I’ve come to realize something: this blog is a pain in my ass.
As usual, I keep coming across the same old solution: I need to stop doing so much.
Is life a race?
You’re damn right it is. I want to get all this living over with. But why make life more painful than it needs to be?
That’s another thing that pisses me off…why does it take so much for people to be happy? You’re breathing right? You can pay the bills, correct? You have access to internet pornography? What fucking more do you need?
“But I gotta feed my kids 😭,” you say
Or
“I gotta have insulin for my Type II diabetes 😭.”
Don’t worry about it. You know why? Cuz God provides.
“God will provide for my crippling gambling debts 😀?”
He sure will.
Of course I don’t need God. I’m much too powerful for that bullshit. But you do.
It takes real strength to admit weakness. At least keep telling yourself that. As for me, I have no weaknesses.
But the point is you gotta recognize your own weaknesses before you can start making improvements. And I’ve realized that my so called “weakness” is trying to take on too much responsibility.
So actually, I don’t have a problem at all. I’m just a too damn good of a person.
So say ‘no’ to paying your bills and staying healthy, and ‘yes’ to more drugs and internet pornography.
I’m just doing what my therapist told me to do 🤷♂️
Last week, when I housesitting for my neighbor, I ran an illegal cockfighting ring in his basement. Apparently the stove was gas powered and I forgot to shut it off 🤷♂️ So when I used my vape pen, it triggered a massive explosion, killing 293 people.
The police tried to arrest me for “negligent homicide”, “animal cruelty”, and “racketeering”.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m a sovereign citizen,” I told them. “Problem solved.”
It’s day three being tobacco free. Everyone and every THING pisses me off.
Bruce Arians retired. Which was enough to annoy me. Then I read this bullshit:
Well TOO late buddy! You guys should have thought of that before putting Jimmy “fucking” Johnson in the Hall of Fame.
When it was announced a few years ago that Johnson was going to be inducted, many were shocked that he wasn’t already in. I was the only one shocked they were letting him in at all.
“😭😭But he’s got two Super Bowl rings and restored the Dallas Cowboys as America’s team 😭😭,” you might cry.
Well guess what? Have you ever considered that Jerry Jones was RIGHT when he said any coach could have led the Cowboys to the Super Bowl…especially after Barry Switzer won one two seasons later with the same team?
That’s right: I’m Team Jerry Jones in this fight!
And besides, according to Mike Asti, we shouldn’t count Johnson’s two Super Bowl wins because the Cowboys had a stacked roster that included THE MOST SUCCESSFUL RUNNING BACK OF ALL TIME.
Sorry, if you have a talented roster and you’re a head coach, you don’t get credit for the wins. I don’t make the rules 🤷♂️
My point is that Jimmy Johnson (and, honestly, Dick Vermeil) is the benchmarks that all modern coaches must hurdle if they want to make the Hall of Fame.
And Bruce Arians hurdles it pretty well. Arians’ career was technically shorter than Johnson’s: 8 full seasons as a head coach, and one season as an interim for 12 games (a season in which, it should be noted, he won NFL Coach of the Year). In those 8 full seasons, Arians became the winningest coach for one team (Arizona Cardinals) and led the other one (Tampa Bay Buccaneers) to a Super Bowl win. His win/loss record, including the playoffs in that 8 year stretch is 86-51-1. If you include the one year as interim HC for the Indianapolis Colts (where again, he won CoY), that record stretches to 95-54-1…in nine seasons.
Jimmy Johnson’s record in nine seasons (including the playoffs)? 89-68.
Yes, both coaches only achieved 2 division titles. And Johnson went to the postseason 6 times compared to Arians’ 4. But again, the HoF committee would have to reckon with Arians’ one “unofficial” year as Indy’s head coach, because that team DID go to the playoffs (where Chuck Pagano resumed head coaching duties). So, technically, Arians went to the playoffs 5 times.
Also, Arians won CoY twice, where Johnson won once. Might not mean much, but every little bit helps.
Therefore Bruce Arians’ career can be summed up here: 95-54-1, 2xCoY, 1xSB winner.
Compared to Johnson: 89-68, 1xCoY, 2xSB winner.
Look, I’m not saying that Bruce Arians SHOULD be in the Hall. My argument is that if you’re gonna put Jimmy Johnson in, you definitely have to put Arians in.
He didn’t get drafted because the NFL is racist. He never advanced to a Super Bowl. And his number and name is in the rafters in a city he never played for.
Additionally, of all the NFL throwback games I find on YouTube involving the Houston Oilers, Moon loses in all of them (including, most infamously, “the Comeback”, which was not Moon’s fault). Fortunately, the NFL did the right thing, and put him in the HoF.
Now Moon played contemporaneously along side other HoF QBs like Joe Montana, Dan Marino, Jim Kelly, John Elway, Troy Aikman, Steve Young, and Brett Favre. And I gotta say: if I had to draft a QB from the guys on the list, I’d still take Warren Moon.
I prefer my football to be exciting. And once when the Oilers initiated the “Run and Shoot” offense, that shit was good. But more importantly, I prefer a strong-armed QB. Now Elway, Marino, and Favre had notoriously powerful arms, but it’s one thing to have a cannon. It’s another thing to harness that power. Moon perhaps wasn’t the most “accurate” QB (nobody really was back in those days), but when he threw the ball, it was a thing of beauty:
Nobody throws a spiral like that. I mean, I can. And have. But you can’t. Nor can any other NFL QB. Because there’s a whole science behind it:
So I’ve been locked in my shed breathing in paint and gasoline fumes for the last few days and I’ve been watching atheist call-in shows the entire time.
Then it occurred to me: I can do this!
I’ve always said that my dream job would be to have my own talk show a la Dr. Phil: People would come to me with their problems and I would dispense nothing but terrible, uneducated advice. (So, basically, Dr. Phil)
So now I want my own atheist call in show: people call in trying to convert me, I ask endless amount of questions, people spin their wheels to the point of insanity, and I convert every time. Of course, I believe in this faith until the next caller.
I’ll also give relationship advice, because if anyone knows romance, it’s definitely a balding, disheveled, 94 year old.
The Internet Ruined Everything 