Wednesday, April 23, 2014

private school

My kid goes to a private school, but I still like paying taxes for public education. I would be happy to pay more for better public education even if I don't necessarily agree with their viewpoint or religion or whatever; simply because every day I have to deal with people who went to public school and one day in the future I'll have to deal with kids who went to public school and the stupider they are, the harder my life gets.


Okay you little bastard, my kid has the Pokemon games too and I'll tell you what I tell him, you're not a winner if you can catch them all, you're a winner when you can hire someone to catch them all for you.

Sunday, April 13, 2014


There's no browsing anymore. No serendipitous exploration of things for the sake of curiosity. Search, sure. You want to find an obscure fact and ruin all drunken disagreements over who the backup singer for Flock of Seagulls was, fine, Google or Bing can do that all day, but calling Internet Explorer 11 a web "browser" is a fucking lie. And not just because it's IE, though to be sure, that doesn't help the case any.

Wednesday, April 09, 2014


Okay, so if I have a cigar and then for dinner I just eat kale. Like an assload of kale, that cancels out right?

Friday, April 04, 2014

points of anger

Here’s a brief series of random points of anger.

Don’t add the tip to my check automatically. I mean look, you can put the calculations on there. I might even appreciate not having to do math after going through five or six flights of sake, but I get to decide what to add for gratuity based on the quality of the service I get. If you add it automatically you should just increase your prices by 20% and figure out your profit sharing with your employees on your own fucking time. Don’t put that on me you asshat.

If you have a show called Beat Bobby Flay, somebody should be getting hit repeatedly with a lead pipe. Ideally, Bobby Flay. If nobody gets put into a coma, I feel cheated.

No you hipster douchebag, I’m not wearing this to be ironic. I don’t do things ironically I do things to, GO FUCK YOURSELF. I HOPE YOU GET IMPALED FROM FACE TO ANUS LIKE A CHINESE FINGER TRAP ON THE COCKS OF TWO LAVA DEMONS AND GET ROTISSERIED.

If you could go back in time and kill Hitler, on the plus side people could still wear that mustache. But you would forever deprive people of melodramatically comparing all their mundane bullshit to Hitler.

Wednesday, April 02, 2014


I want to meet a butterfly with a tattoo of a drunk chick.