I Would Rather Hurt a Man Than Love a Woman

In the Garden of Eden

2008-09-29T17:13:00.001-07:00

There are exactly 411 people in Eden, Idaho. This is according to a 2000 census. It's 2008 and I can tell you that nothing has changed. 411 people. Since 2000, sixteen babies have been born and sixteen folks have called it a day. Every single birth in Eden since about 1997 has been followed by a fairly gruesome death about 24 hours later. When it's time to go murdering, it's important for me to keep it as gruesome as possible. It's really boring here and my kick-ass killstorms are pretty much the only thing people can get excited for anymore. Some people call me the Keeper of the Garden of Eden. Those people are all on the internet. But the name on my driver's license reads Facerape Von Splattergod. Can you believe I got my name legally changed to that?! I really crack myself up sometimes. I also like to crack other people up... LITERALLY!

My favorite murder as a result of blunt trauma to the head and neck was back in 2006 when Sheila Tompkins couldn't conceive with her husband, Morris. The big problem, as I understand it, was that Morris was a homosexual. But I guess they still wanted to have kids so instead of just getting a John to shoot a load into her baby factory, they went a couple of towns over and scienced up a little miracle. Well, that's what I assume. What I do know for a fact is that she got a doctor to artificially knock her up and nine months later she shit out some triplets (who P.S. were clearly half black). The arrival of this triumverate of mustard seeds to our town pushed our population to an unacceptable... oh shit... you know what, my souffle is rising. Peace.

It's coming

2008-09-19T17:51:00.000-07:00

Yes, it is.

Ah... My Life

2008-08-27T17:44:00.000-07:00

The Truest Ghost of All Jazz

2008-08-26T17:06:00.000-07:00

Employe # 5091

2008-08-18T17:06:00.000-07:00

Reality + Fantasy

2008-08-18T15:53:00.001-07:00

Song Too

2008-08-14T00:26:00.001-07:00

Sorry Jessica

2008-08-10T13:52:00.001-07:00

Merukura

2008-08-06T16:24:00.000-07:00

Chang's hands were covered in sweat as he fumbled with his overly complicated state-of-the-art cellular phone. It's 400 yen per message but he can't stop talking to the smoking hot mystery woman who has been sending him private messages all afternoon. "Show me your ladything," he managed to finally type. "I bet it's gorgeous like a newborn panda."

"And twice as bloody," she replied. My three inch hard-on is never going away now. This anonymous penis-rouser was the Haagenti to my boner's thirty-three legions of hell demons for sure! So much so that I pondered whether or not to offer her the rest of the white newborn baby leftover from dinner last night. But I quickly checked my bank account balance and realized I couldn't spare the food until I got my paycheck on Friday. My hot new sex life is going to put in the poor house! OH WELL!

IMPORTANT INTERNET QUESTION!

2008-06-27T14:06:00.000-07:00

HEY I NEED YOUR HELP! SERIOUSLY! IS THERE A DATABASE FOR RAPE ACCUSATIONS/RUMORS FOR THE NEW ENGLAND AREA?!?!?!? I NEED TO KNOW IF THERE IS A RUMOR ABOUT ME! THIS IS NOT A GAME! HELP ME! I AM A GOOD PERSON! I DIDN'T TOUCH HER!@!

Sex Change Lamentation

2008-06-27T13:23:00.000-07:00

I miss my cock! It ruled for sticking in girls. No longer do I want to hack the photobuckets of strange women. No longer do I crave just a peek at the bare breasts kept locked inside digital armoires. The Sex and the City movie wasn't even that good! Basically just a really long, OK episode of the show! I chopped down one of the mightiest redwoods in the history of flesh to better enjoy that? And now I won't understand the Hulk movie. And what if my car breaks down?!??!?! Fuck, I'm gonna have to blow some guy so he'll fix it now. I mean, that's what all women do, right? I must've sucked 354 cocks in the last month ALONE. I mean, it's cool not paying for stuff but all the cocksucking. How do "real" women keep up with all dicks?!?!?!? I don't want 354 cocks anymore. I just want one! My old one! Or a black one.

This needs to exist

2008-06-27T12:57:00.000-07:00

HEAD VOID

2008-06-27T12:28:00.000-07:00

How do you get INSPIRED?! Oooh, the city air fills up my lungs as I run down Broadway screaming "HEY BIG APPLE, I'M HEEEERE!" My entire life is like the opening to Perfect Strangers. I'm constantly going to a Cubs game and stuffing my brain with hopes and dreams and flight attendant wives. Maybe you walk a mile in my shoes but can you walk a SMILE????? Oh I hope you can! New York: CONQUERED. What's next? L.A.? Philadelphia?! Oooh, maybe the singer of Clockcleaner can kick me in the nuts and let me know what a faggot I am! That would BLOW MY MIND. Wake me up out of this diabetic diatribe with drugs and music that takes a chance! As for me, I still drink soda.

2626262626262626262626262626

2008-06-27T12:27:00.000-07:00

262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626262626

Why I Have Not Been Around

2008-05-30T19:02:00.001-07:00

I am recovering from my sex change operation. It takes a very long to get used to a pussy that never moistens. But the tree has been cut down and the stump has been split. I cannot wait to have musicians and athletes stick their cocks in me! The dream of all woman! The dream of me!

Where it all began...

2007-12-19T10:28:00.000-08:00

The first time I saw tits it was in Pet Sematary II. My mom covered my eyes as soon as the boobs were on screen and I wanted to bite all of her fingers off and spit them back into her face (literally biting the hand that feeds me).

I should've.

Tastes Metallic

2007-12-19T10:21:00.000-08:00

Tonight I was haunted by the shadow people of Bushwick. These spooks are everywhere you go.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shadow_people

Whopper Freakout

2007-12-11T13:06:00.000-08:00

I wish I could have felt those hideous teeth of yours biting down on this hard-on I have right now. But I'm supposed to be preparing a hamburger and I don't have time for old ghosts haunting my brain like the jazz of Albert Ayler. They're going to throw me in the river just like they did to him. The Burger King Corporation is NOT to be fucked with by anyone. Jazz musicians, Presidents, and average sacks of doughy flesh like me have all felt their wrath. I never signed up to be a statistic. I just wanted to flame-broil beef patties and serve them to old women and mexicans. But you had to show up with those gnarly chompers of yours. You had to fuck it all up for me. My manager is yelling all sorts of degrading things at me. About my weight and poverty, mostly. The spatula is slipping out of my hands because of all the fear sweat pouring down from my wrists. Fuck this, I never needed a spatula to hang out with my friends. Now I need one everyday. I am having trouble flipping the patties because of this non-stop barrage of verbal abuse. The burger blaze is getting higher now and it's creeping dangerously close to the bulge that's tenting my polyester work pants. Oh shit, are these pants flammable?!?!??! I guess I'm about to find out...

I LOVE FRIENDSHIP

2007-12-11T13:05:00.000-08:00

KKKollege Life

2007-11-08T11:37:00.000-08:00

"If we were still in high school, we'd totally be in love by now," I allowed those largely untrue words tumble out of my fat mouth like dice from the sweaty, desperate palms of a Peruvian businessman on a lost weekend. Let's hope I don't roll snake eyes! I leaned over and hit pause as the final seconds of "Dark Park Creeping" by Mo-Dettes tapered off like my interest in Moira's story about her brother's burgeoning career as a cagefighter.

"So he basically spends half his time running with a log," concluded Moira as I leafed through my CD wallet while feigning a knowing smile (really trying to locate my Dolly Mixture compilation CD-R).

"Wow! A log? What a wild man!" I exclaimed after exactly thirteen seconds of distracted silence. I decide to go with Marine Girls instead. No, no. Young Marble Giants would be perfect right now. Does she even know that Hole didn't write "Credit in the Straight World"? It would be fun to show her how much more I know about music than she does (again).

"Hey, you know that song from 'Live Through This'... 'Credit in the Straight World'?..." I lead in while placing the CD in my stereo.

"You mean, the Young Marble Giants cover?" she replied, almost too quickly. Had I already told her?

"Had I already told you that?" I asked as sweat began to rapidly form on my forehead and several blood vessels in my left eye spontaneously ruptured.

"Uh, no. Doesn't everyone know that?" Her words sailed over my skin like sentient cheese graters shaving off all my skin and leaving it at my feet in thick, bloody rinds. The Young Marble Giants CD exploded in my left palm and the shards severed a great deal of crucial nerve endings. I was left completely numb. I guess I would be going with the Marine Girls CD instead.

"Ooh, I like this. Who is this?" she asked as I thanked a higher power I enjoyed not believing in.

What's In Yr sKKKull

2007-11-08T11:28:00.000-08:00

The one thing I regret most about you is never frenching by that lake. The way yr skin clung to yr bones. I so yearned to be like them (wet/inside you). Just like yr skull; I'll be with you when you come home.

KKKonsumers

2007-11-08T11:11:00.000-08:00

Buy Nothing Day is a cute little idea for people too fucking lazy to actually be socially responsible for more than 24 hours straight. It is for horseshit-eating loser assholes. Basically, the day after Thanksgiving is the busiest shopping day of the year. So everyone is going to get together and not buy ANYTHING! WOW! That'll get 'em. Just go and live off those Thanksgiving leftovers for a day kids and say fuck you to consumer culture. Then y'know, return to the status quo the next day like the crummy idiot retard you are the next day.

Here is a better/painfully obvious idea: Spend yr money thoughtfully. If you want something, take the time out to figure out why you want it. I like comic books, marijuana, and eating. I buy those things because I like fiction, feeling rad, and not starving to death. I don't buy a whole fuck of a lot else really. Like, I would probably enjoy a Nintendo Wii but you see me running out and blowing a quarter of my paycheck on it because I just gotta have it. Keep it in yr fucking pants, y'know? And if I'm broke, I don't buy ANYTHING but food. I can do that. It doesn't feel like a Herculean exercise in will. I don't struggle to keep myself from hemmoraging money. Maybe it's because I'm poor and I understand the value of money?

I mean, whatever. Buy Nothing Day is a crummy, piss-swilling idea. All you need to know. But good luck with it, jerkoffs.

Gelatin Gloves

2007-10-11T12:09:00.000-07:00

His away message reads "text if you need me".

No one needs you.

I can open my own jars now, Shawn. But I keep those closed anyway. Unless those jellyfish come back, I'll never need that much urine ever again. At this point, the eighteen tightly sealed mayonnaise jars full of pee pee will only be used for hilarious pranks. See, Shawn? I do have a sense humor. I love jokes. And archery. I have discovered a few loopholes in the Camp Chapa handbook that allows me to play urine-based pranks on the girls I supervise. I hope to erase the deep damage R. Kelly has inflicted on the relationship between young girls and piss. I'm doing it all by myself.

August

2007-08-24T00:00:00.000-07:00

August is the most beautiful man alive. We could quench the thirst of a thousand thirsty Somalians with all of the pussy juice he has inspired the secretion of. I wish I could wake up every single morning to this adonis teabagging me. I'd call it an English Breakfast.

CFD3

2007-08-23T23:56:00.000-07:00

SUMMER BLOCKBUSTER 1936

2007-08-23T23:52:00.000-07:00

ANAIS NINJA vs THE SPIES IN THE HOUSE OF LOVE

Trailer forthcoming.

...

2007-08-23T23:47:00.000-07:00

New Fxxxing Lion Shit

2007-08-23T23:40:00.000-07:00

Check it out here.

The Chocolate Face Diaries Pt. 2

2007-08-09T14:53:00.001-07:00

The Chocolate Face Diaries Pt. 1

2007-08-09T14:13:00.001-07:00

Dennis Miller is so funny

2007-08-05T12:30:00.000-07:00

I love Dennis Miller. He was so great in The Net and Monday Night Football. His jokes are as smart as I am too! We all know how it feels to hang around people who are intellectually inferior and can't hang with yr advanced joking techniques. It's like getting a handjob from Dostoevsky. Or maybe it's more like riding in the carpool lane with Zsa Zsa Gabor and Gorbachev. No no, it's like going to a Bread concert with Lech Kaczyński.

...

2007-08-01T22:29:00.000-07:00

The oldest gorilla ever died on my 2nd birthday.

Interview with M.O.M.F.U.C.K. (Part One)

2007-07-31T00:06:00.001-07:00

I first saw M.O.M.F.U.C.K. on MySpace. After repeated bulletins begging me to check out their new tunes, I decided to give them a listen. They listed themselves as "Tropical", "Trip Hop", and "Turntablism". I was disappointed to find out that those are apparently the three ingredients that combine into grindcore. With song titles such as "I Don't Give a Shit About Your Mom, She's Not the Fonz" and "Fast Times at Boner High", I felt utterly compelled to get into the minds of these four clever lads from Glen Rock, NJ. I finally got around to chatting with their bassist/singer Frankie "Fudge" Packard. Here is the Part One of our convo.

JS: So first off. That name. Goddamn it. How did you come up with that shit?

FFP: Well, our original name was Oedipus. But this metal band from West Newbury already had it, so we changed it to American Oedipus and that was taken by this singer songwriter whose legal name was actually American Oedipus. So we changed it to Amerikkkan Oedpius but that offended a lot of people, so then it was onto the less offensive Momfuck. We couldn't enter our school battle of the bands with that name so we changed it to Masters Of Mindless Functioning Ultimately Control Kids. We were hopping they'd abbreviate our name to the acronym, y'know, 'cause our name was so long and that the poster would say M.O.M.F.U.C.K.

JS: And did they?

FFP: They didn't end up making a poster for battle of the bands.

JS: But you didn't let that stop you.

FFP: As a band, you have to deal with a lot of crap. I guess, we just got our first taste. But no, it'll take a little bit more to stop M.O.M.F.U.C.K.

JS: How did you do?

FFP: We got disqualified when I said "fag" onstage.

PART TWO COMING SOON!

Yo, slam poetry is fucking hilarious.

2007-07-17T20:03:00.000-07:00

Seriously, I have never heard a poem get slammed without laughing my dick off. Look at this, dude. HYSTERICAL!

High School Journal Keeper

2007-07-12T10:07:00.000-07:00

Teen Teene Pt. 1

In the morning, shoving through hordes of nitwitted swaynes

I fall ill and suddenly aware of myriad pains

The buzzing like a hideous bee hive

Makes me wish I was not alive

Like coyotes thirsty for blood, they mingle

Dripping grins send my spine into tingles

One coyote, in particular, had the dullest fangs

Insecure about the regions where nothing good hangs

“I’ll make up for it by the loudest of howls!”

(And possibly a face that could move all bowels)

“I will hunt only the weak with my beady dead eyes

So what if I’m lacking between the thighs!”

And he hunted and hunted but to no avail

The arrogant bully routine has long grown stale.

Eelde Education

A phony intellectual with cruelty in her heart

A weak-minded audience to fake like she’s smart

Misspelling even the most common of words

Yet to no one does this seem absurd

“Let us mock our peers in public!” she proclaimed

While all but one mind thought this completely sane

“Let us set out these coyotes against each other

Let us make mourners of their mothers

For no one hear deserves to feel so great

What this place needs is even more hate!”

But those finals words fell on deaf ears as usual

Much like all her gestures, completely futile

“But what if someone gets hurt?” someone asks

“Why hurting someone is one of your main tasks!”

Teen Teene Pt. 2

The lumbering figure ambled down the hall

Like a sack of cottage cheese the size of a wall

On his mind, the naked torsos of girls

And that insipid leather ball he can’t help but hurl

Knuckles drag on tile like a hairless ape

As his ample skin hangs in a careless shape

But his disgusting body is immune to critique

As he eyes the girls around, his prospects are bleak

Who would touch such a bumbling beast?

Who let him get to second base at least?

The answer is no one and even he knows it

This is his life and he clearly chose it

2007-07-10T21:28:00.000-07:00

Yr lungs are an organ wheezing a funeral dirge for my mental hygiene. I wonder if anyone else has friendship fantasies? Getting acquainted = sexy?? Why are ska bands leaving graffiti (skafitti?) on my doorstep?

CONSUMER DAY!

2007-07-10T21:07:00.000-07:00

I bought a bunch of shit today. I helped America.

Lunch at the Wendy's fast food restaurant
Hazelnut iced coffee from McDonald's
Shellac - Excellent Italian Greyhound
Pissed Jeans - Hope For Men
No Age - Weirdo Rippers (this one was used! If you want a copy, ask me and I'll burn it for you because that shit costs like eighty dollars new.)
Box of Krusty-O's
Two six packs of Buzz Cola

Buying shit rules.

Love/Hate Continues

2007-07-05T17:18:00.000-07:00

The love/hate rollercoaster ride involving me and Billy Corgan continues on. We're like Kane and Undertaker. For those keeping track, I love "Tarantula" and I think the video is awesome.

But seriously that new album has the most hideous cover I have ever seen in my whole life.

Someone Lost Fingers

2007-07-05T15:25:00.000-07:00

Roisin Isner, drummer for the San Francisco band Tinkture lost her hand in Dolores Park last night watching the fireworks. Her dad sent the email below to some local media outlets...

Subject: Roisin Isner, Tinkture drummer

Hello,

I am Roisin's father. July 4th, Roisin and friends were in Dolores Park
watching fireworks. Some stupid piece of shit threw an M60 at them. It
landed on Roisin's right hand and blew it apart. She will undego surgery
later this morning but it doesn't look good. Most likely she will lose her
index finger; second and third fingers will also be permanently impaired and disfigured. Needless to say, her musical career is over.

I want this fucker.
Media attention will help flush him out. People know who did it and I'm offering $20,000 for a name. Please do whatever is necessary to get the story out. Do so and I will reward you as well.

Thank you,
Chris Isner

Most of the people I know and love use their hands for a living, so this certainly hits home. But after checking out Tinkture on MySpace, I sort of want to throw an M60 at her too. So I don't know who to side with on this.

Shaded Vice/Shaved Dice

2007-07-05T13:34:00.000-07:00

“You’re supposed to grab them like this,” she said as her meaty fists clenched around the chicken’s throat. An instantaneous poultry homicide proceeded. I vomited in my own mouth but immediately swallowed back the acidic swell of inside juices. A single tear rolled out of my left eye and down into my beard. The salty optic discharge was now lost in the most sought after beard in all of New Jersey.

“Heh heh, sick,” I managed to choke out of my coppery mouth but the words were muffled behind seven pounds of facial hair. But still, I wanted to (and probably really needed to) get laid tonight. Not just tonight but also perhaps right the fuck now. The International Record Setter Convention was a great place to score all kinds of insane gash. I decided to grow the heaviest beard on the planet to gain access to this exotic collection of transmundane beauty queens. So bored was I of hot internet babes. The backpack wearers and the noseless poltergeists teeming with bones seeking to lock me in their ribcages to sing like an ailing aviary. Superlatives were the only way for me to get my rocks off. Everything else was a barrel full of cod and a pistol.

“So is that your… thing? You kill chickens the fastest or something?” I said while unbuttoning my shirt with my bloody gloved hands. An eagle medallion reveal went unnoticed much to my (perhaps too obvious) dismay. I heaved a vase at the base of her neck for not noticing my jewelry unveiling. She went down in a gnarly heap of orange skin and zebra-print spandex. My erection was undeniable. I began to undo my pants when a fist hit the side of my jaw like a tree falling in the woods and this time there were people around to make a sound. That sound being me yelling out the F-word while plucking teeth out of my beard. And there he stood right in front of me, Ricky “The Runner” Isiah, the fastest man on the planet.

“Now what in the hell were you about to pull, Most-Man?” he barked at me with far too much bass in his voice for my liking. How do these sonuvabitches keep finding me? Just in the last three months, this is the fourth time I’ve been busted by The Runner and his triumvirate of asinine associates. Before I can refer Runner as something derogatory, he will have kicked me in the face over 500 times. My nose is now completely broken. He’s ear-to-ear over my rapid blood loss. I can’t lose sight of my goals. Being goal-oriented got me far in life. You can’t be second best. I just wanted to come to this convention and accept my award for Heaviest Beard. That was seriously all I wanted. But no, Kevin “The Beardman” Baker had to beat me by six ounces. So I decided to set a new record: Most Heinous Crime of All-Time. It wasn’t easy killing and mauling all of those people. It took me over three hours to give this place the thorough once over.

“I love how you can smile at a time like this, Runner. Did you see all the sheer mayhem I caused? I must’ve killed thousands of people. Did you see the bodies, Runner? So, so many bodies,” I tried to muster up a maniacal laugh but I always found that part overrated and overdone. I instead opted to show him my middle finger (which was now caked in dried noseblood).

“I’m smiling, Most-Man, because this was all a setup. Hook, line, and sinker! You fell for it. What a joke! Those were all decoys. Dr. Courage made them in her lab. We knew you wouldn’t be able to resist so many superlatives under one roof. You’re going to jail for a long, long time. So yeah, I’m going to smile quite a bit!” beamed Runner with teeth that were as white as he wasn’t. And then they all revealed themselves, like an eagle medallion hidden by a polyester party shirt. Dr. Courage, a brilliant scientist and futurist, she was the smartest person on the planet. Brandon Irons wasn’t too far behind and for the longest time I could never figure out what his superlative power was. With his impeccable grooming skills and killer wardrobe, I had long considered him the gayest man on the planet but it turns out him and Dr. Courage were like Siamese twins connected at the crotch during the nighttime hours. Bringing up the rear was a lummox of about seven feet with simian features and maroon skin known to the world as Gorilla Red. You guessed it, the stronger person on the planet.