Monday, March 29, 2010

Fight Dog Fighting Dot Com is a medium to raise awareness and stop unnecessary Dog Violence.

The Goal: to take the "fight" in "dogfighting" to Dog; WHERE IT BELONGS! The days of Dog bullying Dog, without fear of repercussion, are a thing of the past...

Our Motto: ZERO Tolerance and LESS Compassion

We'll beat the shit out of Aggressor Dog AND Inferior Dog, LETTING EVERY DOG KNOW, that if they dont change their dog-ways, they'll be "dogged" next.

Think tough love, but minus the love.

Ahh...Nice try Deceiving Dog! But I know "Dogfighting" isnt the innocent sparring down at the health-club like you'd have us believe. You're ruthless, you know that Dog? What'd you say? Oh, just another retarded bark, that's what I thought.

Here's some other things to think about:

Awe, cute! If you ignore the dick germs and cat-shit on his breath, that is. Really, Dog? To a baby? That's messed up.

  *sigh* No Comment

Nice Kangaroo impression Arrogant Dog, but I'm not impressed. And by that unflinching whiff (of your own ass, sicko), I surmise your shit doesnt stink either. Great. All this while enjoying a snow-day, b/c guess what? Dog doesn't fucking work when it's snows, or doesnt snow, making everyday just another "dog day" in his vacation of a life.

Oh perfect, her nose and eye in one full swoop. Talk about a prick. Oh and let me guess, the centuries of Puppy Propaganda have her "enjoying" this! And why shouldn't she? I dunno,b/c Dog loves to eat cat-shit and lick his own dick. But hey, to each their own I suppose...

Oh sweet, somebody's ready for us huh? Well, you might look pretty fearsome Medieval Feudalistic Dog, but we will fight you Sir!! And newsflash dumbshit, your fancy armored suit was rendered useless, I dunno, like 400 hundred years ago. (Hint: Gunpowder.) You might trick some people Sir Dog, but not me...

And am I the only one sick of Dog masquerading behind euphemisms like, "Man's Best-friend"? Puhhleasse! Nobody wants some shit-hole sniffing, self-righteous prick, whose best trait is their ability to lick their own genitalia; as their BFF. (Go ahead Dog, pleasure yourself while you think no one sees you, real fucking cool Dog.)

Okay that's enough for now, from me at least. But I'd love for you to share your own stories (err..nightmares) about Dog exploiting his (what should be nonexistent) role in society.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

I wouldnt put that in there if I were you....

I'm all but 100% positive this is only funny b/c I'm still drunk from last night's St. Patty's day celebration....or maybe I'm just a sick sonuvabitch, who cares. But I love that I found multiple articles about this poor Bloke (not the guy in the image) who got his willy stuck in a steel pipe while I was prospecting this morning.

Who knew a "steel pipe" search would yield such ridiculous results?? I'd ask with the same sincerity, what in the world this Limey was doing, but we all know they're a bunch of sick, sex deprived, perverts stuck on an island, at this point, don't we? So thank you Universe for the much needed comic relief, and google for linking the article. You've made my day, now back to struggling through this formidable hangover, arggh.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010


I wrote this Sunday evening after one of my guitar strings broke. I was already slightly frustrated with some other things, amidst reading some pretty heavy material, and I just wasnt feeling the "bright" sound of new guitar strings. Furthermore, I havent had a cigarette since 2002, but the idea of a disgusting cig embodied my mood.


I want my strings old and worn out. I want them to ring dull and deep and dark; like the blunt touch to a weeks old bruise.

I want the harsh critique of an old has-been who was more than slightly used; with bitter sentiments about the way the world works.

I want rustic stained callused fingers to feed my crooked teeth. I want to play pick-less arpeggios with a cigarette between my lips and a piece of scrap paper nearby. I want yesterdays coffee, room temperature, and bitter to compliment the stale smoke that dances on my tongue.

I want a reason to scream in an octave you cant hear and play it off like a whisper, with a smirk reminiscent of every devious thing I've ever done.

I want to let my mind race like a maniac while occupying the like with straight talk about the forecast. I want to intentionally go the wrong way before being admittedly unsure and unaware; then play dumb and offer an apology so contrived it's insulting. I want total, 100%, complete, thorough destruction. Chaos. I want every single thing systematically destroyed, poof, completely to the ground, but done silently and with zero plans of reconstructing.

I want to waive my fist and march around like a freak and not give two shits.

I want you to win; to be beaten fairly and be genuinely indifferent about it.

I want to get in a philosophical debate about how 2+2 can equal 5; before we both agree we've been fed so much bullshit it's beyond our breath but ingrained in the very syllables we emphasize.

I want you to see it my way before I retreat from my ideologies. I want to disregard what I cant have once I get it and then complain about losing it.