Brain Tears

While I Was Away…

Hmm… I knew I was forgetting SOMETHING!

Yes, I know, I was away awhile. A blend of a few things: Apathy. Sloth. Disinterest. The American Cocktail, if you will. Or at least most of it, I missed the part where I got fat. Fat Bob is Scary Bob…

Anywho, I’m here now. So all… three of you that read this can rest less easy now knowing my rage is here to fill your eye pits until they burn.

Now, back to business.

I live in Minnesota. And I’ll admit, I love it here. Despite the fact it gave me record snow falls, record flood levels, AND record heat waves all in the last year. It’s a pleasant place. However, something about my state has been coming up a lot lately, and it’s something I can’t let go unpunished.

Michele. Fucking. Bachmann.

Seriously, I can’t say it enough: Our Bad.

We keep re-electing this nutjob cunt, and it’s got to stop. It’s gotten so bad that somehow she thinks it’s ok to run for President. Hey, Michy, baby, cut that out. We get it. You’re a “Politician”. You’re also the spawn of a lesser demon from the layer of hell that is reserved for Homophobic whackos. And the retarded spawn of that demon, no less. Like… that demon had you… and then dropped you. Then picked you up and OOPS dropped you again. Then fed you paint chips.

…the point is, the bitch is crazy.

And I can’t help but feel personally responsible for letting her loose on this world. As if I was the one that bridged the river Styx and helped her get out of her cage of human bones.

Apparently, she wanted to find a cure for Gay. Admirable, but perhaps misguided what with things like cancer and stuff still rollin’ around. I mean, even a cure for that weird shiver I get when I hit the head would be more useful…

The sad thing is, I could see her as our next President. Face it, folks, when it comes to politicians, we’re masochistic at best. We know we’re going to have scandals, in fact, we look forward to them. What else is Jon Stewart going to keep making the same three jokes about all week?

We elected Bush Jr. because we thought it’d be funny. We elected him again because even this sick nation wasn’t willing to put John Kerry’s insane ass in office. We elected Obama because we got tired of looking at old white dudes. And we could easily elect Michele Bachmann because we want the first Woman/Succubus President on record as “Progression”.

And four years after that? We’ll paroll and elect Charles Manson. Hey, at least we’ll be back to Regan levels of creepy then.

Michele Bachmann, you make my brain cry. Last time we churned out a Presidential candidate, it was Walter Mondale. That didn’t quite work, so I guess you’ll have to do. Hey, who knows, maybe you’ll win and we can finally feel like we’ve accomplished something in the political circuit: producing the final President before this country becomes a smoldering pile of feces.

Again… sorry… really… we didn’t think she was serious…

Until next time, fuck off!

-Bob 

Saggy ‘Em And Baggy ‘Em

Well, it’s time I killed myself.

I just saw, without a doubt, the most pathetic saggy-pants black dude of all time. Ever. All hope for humanity… all gone. We’ve hit rock bottom.

This dude was LITERALLY holding his pants up. If he would have removed the one hand - around the ankles. This makes my heart hurt.

What the fuck is it? How is that cool? How is it cool to look like you were mid-shit when the fire alarm went off?

And don’t tell me it’s “gangsta”. It is not. You know what gang bangers do? Commit a shit-ton of crimes. And you know what happens when they do that? The police show up! And they CHASE YOUR BLACK ASS! You try running while holding your britches up, and see how far you get. Try taking that chain link fence when your pants fly off.

You’d figure it’d be the other way around, tighten the belt until you’re legs turn blue so you will NEVER get tripped up by your jeans.

Saggy pants fucker. My brain can’t even cry. It just wants to hang it’s head in shame and say goodbye to humanity. Pull your pants up, fuckhead.

Until next time, fuck off!

-Bob

Burn (Yourself) After Reading

Can we all stop being total pansies please?

Let me back up and explain where this is coming from. I bought a mocha at Caribou Coffee today, and it was mildly warm at best. Whereas, five years ago, I would buy a mocha or latte at a coffee shop and I’d be lucky if the thing wasn’t super heated into being nothing but steam. I’d have to wait a week just to be able to drink it without leaving my soft palette with third degree burns. I miss those days.

However, those days are no more. And it’s entirely because of you, the weak, sue-happy fuckweeds that kept spilling their coffee on their laps. Fuck you for it, too.

You just HAD to hold the piping hot coffee between your thighs while you drove down the interstate to your boring fucking dead end job. You just had to accidentally spill it on your way home to your boring fucking average family. And because you’re so pathetic and boring, you just had to sue over the burns on your legs, because you wanted attention. Well, you got it, and you’ve ruined coffee for everyone.

Because of the propensity to sue everyone for everything, we’ve over-protected ourselves against everything these days. Peanut-less flights because one whiny allergic numb nuts doesn’t want to accidentally get a puff of peanut within a few thousand miles of him because he might go into anaphylactic shock and shit himself in front of all those people. Warning labels on everything, like the one on the hair dryer in my bathroom that reads “Don’t Use While In The Shower”.

Let’s go off on that for a second, shall we. Don’t use while in the shower? Ok, fine, I’ll give you a pass if you didn’t know not to use electric devices in water, I’m letting it slide. Maybe you slept through the class or missed the memo on that one. However, if you’re using a hair dryer while you’re in the shower… you’re trying to dry your hair WHILE IT’S STILL GETTING WET?! If you are that fucking stupid, you deserve to die. It’s Darwinism. You are NOT the fittest, now fry shithead.

Anyway, those are the kinds of things that happen because stupid people do stupid shit and then sue. And now my coffee is cold before I can finish it.

Listen, people, we have to stop giving into the weak. Those of us with minds that still function want our shit to be dangerous. Because we all need a little danger.

So, you pathetic weak fuckers that ruined my coffee and everything else good, you make my brain cry. Be careful, my brain tears maybe have come in contact with seafood at some point in the last twenty years, and you could get an allergic reaction from them. You have been warned.

Until next time, fuck off!

-Bob

Stuff It

Ever watch one of those Discovery Channel specials where some archaeologists dig up the ruins of some ancient civilization? They find such cool shit, don’t they?

“This was the ceremonial dagger used to cut the entrails out of the dead and make a festive hat”

Awesome!

“This is a pedestal where they used to have public sacrifices and then fuck on the corpses”

…a little weird, but awesome!

“It’s a… um… well, at this angle it looks like… um… no, no I got this it’s… a… you know what, we’ll just say it’s a statue of something we don’t have anymore ‘cause fuck if I know what it is…”

Still awesome!

But I ask you, people of the early 21st century: the fuck are we going to leave behind? The fuck are archeologists going to dig up when they pick apart the ruins of America. (Sorry if you’re reading this outside of America, they’re probably gonna find cool shit in YOUR country)

You know what they’ll find? Fuck-all of interest! Let’s replay the opening Discovery Channel special, but with current America.

“This here is a ceremonial vibrator. Women used to pleasure themselves with it because the good majority of men in this society were pathetic lowlifes who would get drunk and punch them instead of find their clitoris…”

Awful.

“This is a pedestal with wheels they called a “shopping cart”. They would load it up with their eight kids and go into the Wal-Mart and make a public sacrifice of their money. They would then go home and fuck in their double-wide.”

…a little welfare-y, but awful.

“This is… well, pretty sure this is a cellphone. It turned ordinary people infantile in a matter of seconds. They couldn’t remember basic information, they could only communicate through a series of short sentences filled with non-words, and they had to constantly talk into it, as if reminding everyone else around them that they were important. They weren’t.”

Our society is really sad. As impressive as mega stores and sex toys and cellphones are, they’re also diminishing our ability to appreciate the amazing. My main concern is that we’ve stopped appreciating what we have. Do you think when a spearhead broke in ancient times, people said “Fucking Spearheads! I knew I should have went with the Dagger brand! They make such better shit!” No. And yet, if our cell phones lose reception for five seconds, we make AT&T into enemies. Louis C.K. does a fantastic bit about this. I urge you all to listen to it.

Everyone makes my brain cry, when I watch them invent useless shit and not appreciate the things we have. Learn how great everything can be, and maybe our society will stop inventing less interesting things to satisfy our moronic disposition. We’re not going to be judged by the people in our society, but by the things we leave behind. Let’s make it good.

Until next time, fuck off!

-Bob

FiS P.O.T.W.: Death Benefits (aka Health Carry On)

Haven’t read this one pretty much since I posted it, but it amuses me. I really do think I need to roll with the concept of the Dea-In.

I should run for President simply on the platform that we all should die. Bet I’d still get more votes than Trump…

Well, here it is… now piss off and die, would ya?

Death Benefits (aka Health Carry On)

In The Air Tonight

Unfortunately, this is not a blog about a Phil Collins song. However, now that I think about it, writing a blog entirely dedicated to the song stylings of Mr. Collins wouldn’t be a bad idea. In fact, it’d probably be a lot better for my health and well being than me screaming and getting worked up about things until I’m red faced. I mean, let’s face it, who doesn’t dig some Genesis from time to time? Even most of his solo stuff was still pretty awesome. Except maybe that odd Disney’s Tarzan soundtrack, that was a bit…

…Wow, tangent much? Sorry, anyway, that’s not what this is about.

Instead, I would like to address those of you ladies out there who like to rock the perfume. Plain and simple: stop it. Or at least tone it down a little. I can’t begin to describe the horrors I’ve smelt in my lifetime radiating from some dolled up dipshit who is oblivious to the serial nasal cavity rape they have forced upon me.

Listen, I understand you want to smell nice. But did you have to hook up a pulley system and have yourself lowered into a pool of Liz Taylor’s White Diamonds just to go out this morning? You smell like Macy’s exploded. It’s not necessary.

The worst part is: they don’t smell it themselves. You could give yourself a fine coating of the stuff and it wouldn’t register to you at all. However, if you happen to walk past someone, they will be treated to a cluster fuck of “good” smells. And I use the term “good” ironically, because they’re never good. Perfume is always fucked up smelling.

Oh, and don’t think I’m just going to harp on the ladies. Dudes, enough with the Axe Body Spray already. Just because it says “Body Spray” doesn’t mean you have to spray a human-bodies worth on your chest every twenty three minutes. We get it, you want to be “sexy”, but you smell like a sporting goods store, and no chicks have ever had the desire to blow a sporting goods store. That shit is to be put on very, very lightly. Just enough so that when you finally do rufie that 17 year old and she passes out on your chest, she has just a tiny hint of pleasant smell as she’s whisked away to Date Rape Land.

Perfume and fragrance people, you’re over-zealous with the shit and it makes my brain cry. Not out of sadness or anything like that, the smell is just so strong even my fucking nervous system is tearing up from it. Fuck you, cut it out.

Until next time, fuck off!

-Bob

Captcha’d Red Handed

I’m not a robot. I swear it. Last time I checked, I’m a flesh and blood human. The real McCoy. 

And yet, on more than one occasion, I’ve been blocked from submitting a form online for failing the Captcha test more times than is allowed. I’ve essentially failed to prove I’m alive. 

Of course, it would help if they’d make the fucking things even remotely possible to read! Some of them are so jumbled it’s near impossible to make out even one letter or number, let alone a fuckin’ shape or line! 

We get it, you want to secure your website from spam bots and the like. However, I don’t understand how this helps. Can robots read NORMAL text that easily? And if so, can’t they read the Captcha’s? Probably not, because I fucking can’t!

In reading the research, they have actually developed programs to read some of the easier, early Captcha forms. Really? That’s something we actually have to worry about? Once more, I revert to my “Fuck hackers” mindset. Because of you, buying things online or signing up for a website is becoming more difficult than sitting through an entire episode of Glee without wanting to tear my own ears off my head. 

What does this all serve? In the end, all that is happening is the internet is being rendered impossible to use thanks to assholes and idiots. Pretty soon, the internet will literally be nothing but porn. So, really, only about 10% of the internet will be disappearing thanks to all this crap…

I can’t wait until AI becomes so smart we can program computers to kick hackers in the balls if they try to ruin shit for other people. I would willingly pay a hundred extra bucks for a robotic foot in my Playstation if it meant the cretin that hacked the PSN got a nice, bruised scrotum from it. 

CAPTCHA, and the asshole’s that forced it upon us, you make my brain cry. Now, hopefully I can post this, the CAPTCHA appears to say “Dildo”. That can’t possibly be right…

Until next time, fuck off!

-Bob 

Allergic Reaction To Bull Shit

I can’t even start this thing elegantly. Simply put: Fuck you, Zyrtec. Fuck you and your fucking lies about how fucking long you fucking last.

24 Hour Zyrtec? Label it correctly: Ah, It’ll Work For A Few Hours, Half A Day Tops Zyrtec. Sure, it won’t fit on the label too well, but you know what, at least you’re being honest. And don’t try to cover up the fact your shit doesn’t work by giving me ten extra pills. And making such a big show of it too. It literally shows a 30 crossed out on my bottle with a 40 written next to it. You’re giving me ten more pills when you should just shove that 10 pills worth into the 30 pills to make them work for a damn. Idiots.

I have pretty wicked sinus problems this time a year, as I’m sure most of you do. Between feeling like someone is dragging a Brillo pad covered in poison sumac across the backs of my eyelids and the feeling of someone having run a douche filled with pine cones through my facial cavities, they really suck. However, I also have a wicked case of the “fuck it’s” when it comes to extra effort in remedying situations. For instance, I have three choices when it comes to my allergy medication.

1) Actually get a real doctor’s prescription for the top-notch shit that’ll make your sinus’ so clear you could run a pinewood derby race in there. This one’s out because I don’t have health insurance. Because I like to live my life on the edge of my seat. Hopefully I don’t fall OFF said seat and break my collar bone or I’m totally fucked.

2) Just stick with Zyrtec, Claritan, Sudafed, etc. but pick up the stuff you can just snatch off the rack at any drug store. (This is the one I currently partake in, because as stated before: fuck it!)

3) Bring the little card up to the counter and get the “D” versions of these meds that actually work long enough to enjoy a few hours of sneeze and itch-free time.

Why the fuck should I HAVE to do that, really. How is it that our society is so fucking screwed up that I actually have to beg to get relief from the sniffles! And it doesn’t help the fact that I’m 105 soaking wet and don’t bother shaving for a week or so at a time. I’m primo candidate for “this dude’s a meth head”. But I’m not. If I was, I’d be a shit-ton more funny!

All this paranoia that is going into protecting ourselves FROM ourselves is ridiculous. Did you know a lot of places actually keep spray paint behind the counter at hardware stores now. You actually get carded for fucking SPRAY PAINT! Because too many shithead teenagers were spraying poorly drawn penis’ onto the church at night and now we all have to buy spray paint like we buy sex toys. “Yes, can you give me the huge purple one. The semi-gloss…”

Listen, I understand we feel obligated to do what we can to prevent these stupid things from happening. But when is it going to reach a point where in order to protect ourselves, we just inconvenience ourselves out of existence. Because, let’s face it, the best way to protect yourself from all the horrors in the world is to cut your losses and become an agoraphobic. And to be honest, that’s sounding mighty sweet right about now.

Allergy medication, graffiti nitwits, and meth heads, you all make my brain cry. That’s right. Triple the fuck you, and stuffed into one post.

Until next time, fuck you!

-Bob

Book Smart Ass

We, as a culture, can agree to an extent that books are a pretty decent thing to expose our children to (unless it’s the Bible… let them find that one on their own, Pastor Brain-rape), and we can also agree that they are things that wouldn’t be too bad for us to pick up once and awhile as an adult.

But if someone doesn’t want to, can we please stop treating them like some kind of intellectual lepers?

For some reason, the more books people read, the more abusive they tend to be towards those that don’t read. If someone tells you they aren’t into reading, you react as though they just told you they ate a bag of live kittens for breakfast.

“What?! How could you NOT like reading?! I thought you were smart!”

And that’s the kicker. For some reason reading has become synonymous with being intelligent. Let me tell you something, I didn’t read that much growing up, and I turned out pretty capable of stringing together thoughts. Coming across as smart is all in how you process the things around you and react. You don’t need to read a book to know that if you wander off the edge of that cliff over there, you will be pancaked along the craggy rocks below.

Granted, if you’re one of those people that thinks “Hamlet” is a special at Denny’s, you may need to look into some written form of something or another. Just to ease the minds of those like me that are aware that you vote every couple years.

And don’t think I’m some kind of book-hater either. I’m not one of those people that thinks all books are boring and useless. Most of them are. But not all of them. You can have a good time reading, no doubt. But you can also have a good time just walking around and observing life for yourself.

That’s what people say books are good for though: escaping reality. Getting away from the norm. Unshackling yourself from the trappings of normal life and experiencing something surreal for once. If you really need to break the confines of reality that badly, drop acid. Tolkien couldn’t imagine half the crap that you’d see just coming out of the kitchen sink on acid. Plus, it’s interactive!

All I’m saying is this: if you’re going to read, read. Just don’t treat people that don’t read like they’re knuckle-dragging troglodytes. Unless of course they read Nicholas Sparks. In which case, they’re pretty close. 

Oh, and for the love of crap: stop ruining movies for us! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, if a book is made from a movie, please spare us the bullshit about the book being better than the movie. Of course it is, books don’t have Gerard Butler in them. However, the thing with movies is: they are over in two hours and you could possibly get a blowie while watching it. When’s the last time you got blown while reading Stephen King. On second thought, please don’t answer that…

Books are fine and dandy. Read them or don’t. Just leave me out of it, else you’re going to make my brain cry. And believe me, brain tears really smear the ink on most paper backs.

Until next time, fuck off!

-Bob

FiS P.O.T.W.: Will Blog For Food

With a contest date for the Funniest Person in the Twin Cities competition at ACME Comedy Club in Minneapolis looming just over the horizon, I thought I’d post an FiS blog that got a bit of attention awhile back. The only reason these two are connected is that this one has been refined from stand up material into the blog, and now has sense been re-worked into stand up material. It’s a possible set for the competition even.

So, time to make fun of the homeless (except not really)

Will Blog For Food