Being Politically Incorrect: Now Fuck Off

Where in the fuck do the politically correct morality police get off being my mother? Why in the fuck have they chose to subject me to hundreds of e-mails a week and hundreds of spam comments a week? Who the fuck do these people think they are? What in the fuck do they think they can change about my blog? When in the fuck did I become a fucking interest to the fucking politically correct morality police? F.Y.I., y’all will fucking find the morality police is only one of the many names used to describe the fucked up groups of people whose self-appointed job is to enforce standards of moral behavior and religious adherence among the general public, these bleeding pussies are here to protect us from the real world. Have these fucking freaks of nature been having a spell of moral panic? Is their moral panic over an issue deemed to be a fucking threat to, or shocking to, the sensibilities of “proper” society? How about y’all just have a very tall glass of shut the fuck up for a minute.

If you haven’t fingered it out yet, this is my politically incorrect declaration about the morality police fuctards who feel it is their god given right to bombard the Sting Of The Scorpion Blog with all of the bullshit that they disagree with that I say or I post here. So, let me start off with a big GO FUCK YOURSELF to get this kicked off. What does what I write about have to do with anything in the fucking lonely lives of the morality police? I know what I fucking post and I sleep fucking great at night. In some way I have touched these little bitches  in a special way, like how a girl gets finger fucked for the very first time. I guess because they like the way I touch them that they need to bitch at me like my ex-wife who is, to date, at the very top of my “cunt list”, but these fuctards are a very close second. So I say the word, and many variations, FUCK, does that make me a bad person? I post pictures of women with tattoos and women packing heat because those are things I really fucking like. I regularly talk about how fucked up the VA is because I’m a disabled vet who is a part of that fucking broke system.  Does the fact that I was a bartender at a full nude strip bar (and liked it) a problem because I write about it or because it is an industry that exemplifies gratuitous nudity in exchange for money? It is a historical fact for those followers of the bible that “Jesus Loves Strippers” but that is something that the morality police like to forget.

Somewhere, somehow, the morality police opened their doors to the anti-meat-anti-hunting-geniuses because they keep trying to tell me hunting to provide meat for my table is wrong. Wrong? It’s wrong? I do not, I have not, and I will not ever condemn a meat free lifestyle if that is the choice you have made. I may not understand your decision and I might joke about your choices, but your choices are yours to make. I would like to think if you want to be left the fuck alone about not eating meat that you should close your fucking piehole about my choice to stalk the meat, kill the meat, smoke the meat, and then eat the meat with my family. Y’all really need to back off this one because it isn’t ever going to fucking change, ever. Never once, however, do these fucktards ever get real specific about what rubbed their pussies the wrong way. Perhaps that is the problem, perhaps it is because of their own experiences that they must warn me that I am on the highway to hell with what I write about. Well, you stupid fucks, I write about what is in my life, around me, or the fucking things I like or dislike. Some of those things are fucked up, some of those things are the fucktards who get so pissed off at me for talking about their beliefs and how they live their life.

I think if I was a bleeding cunt that maybe I would hold that against the rest of the world as well. Is it because you suffer that you want to make others suffer? I was told once by my dad when I was younger to never trust something that can bleed for a week and live. He also warned me of the hypnotic spell the women will put men under, he called this the power of the pussy. He tried to warn me that she with the pussy is who is in charge. It’s true, for the most part, that because you have a pussy you think that all must bow to you, begging your little twat for forgiveness because we were born with a dick. All of the haters I have all have referenced that they are female, not one male has ever emailed me or spammed my blog in anger because of my topics or language. Why do you little bitches think that is? Need a bandaid? Perhaps you are angry with me because I write about your fucked up ways and your fucked up thinking, perhaps when you whip out your grammar Nazi handbook you should show me the part where it says that The sting Of The Scorpion Blog is supposed to give a fuck about spelling or proper sentence fragmentation. Fuck you, I’m not 6. Speaking of which, no, no I don’t think I will ever write with the maturity my age states I should have. I think it is just plain time for you politically correct bleeding pussies to just turn the internet off, turn your computer off, unplug the smart car, and go for a walk. Get outside into the real world with real people. Do keep your hole closed because if you act out in public as you do on the internet you might just not like the reaction you get.

Where do we go from here? It’s true, I don’t give a fuck about your feelings about what you may find at The Sting Of The Scorpion Blog. Why should I fucking give a shit and really fucking care? Come here if you want, don’t come if you don’t want, either way it doesn’t make a fuck to me because this blog doesn’t pay my fucking bills. In fact, it’s totally free. It’s free hosted, I don’t charge admission, I don’t ask for donations, and I don’t try to sell you stupid shit you don’t want. I do this shit for fun, I do what I do here for my personal entertainment, I write about the things I see or hear because it is fucking fun to do so. What’s even better that somewhere along the way I get to rub some of y’all  pussiy fucktards the wrong way on a very regular basis. Except, nowadays I think we are past the heavy petting, we are past trying to shove three of my fingers thru your granny panties, we are past you not wanting to be touched “there”, no, I think we are to the point where I expose what has really been going on here, because not everyone gets to see you as I do. I know I told you that I wouldn’t tell everyone what a fucking little whore slut you really are. I know you wanted me to be discrete about your little secret of only letting all the guys ass fuck you so you can tell your future husband you truly are a vaginal virgin. Yes, your fucked up little secret is out now, boothefuckhoo. It is also pretty fucking obvious that you suck the cum out right out of that dick after they all pull it out of your ass because all you do is talk shit. So, shove a plug in your gaping asshole because you are dripping anal ooze all over my fucking blog.

Now, get the fuck out. Let the door hit you square in the ass. Don’t stop, don’t look back. All you will see is me bending over blowing you a big fat fucking kiss. I know y’all aren’t capable of listening, that fucking point gets proven time and time again. I get it, you fucking despise and hate me. I know y’all are too fucking stupid to listen. I know y’all will be back, y’all always fucking come back for some reason. Well, just remember I may not appreciate the fact that you suck in all of my fucking oxygen but since you always arrive with your panties pulled so deep into your bleeding cunts, I give y’all a break, because I like freaks, I even like you. So, polish up your badge bitches so you can continue to spread the your fucking legs and let out all of the things that are so wonderful about the fucking morality police. Until the next time we meet please feel free to fucking piss off.

 

Observations In Weekend Ramblings

I spend quite a bit of my time in my shop doing different things that need to be done. I don’t think I have ever shown any pictures of where I do so much. I had run to the hardware store to get a few things I thought I would be using Saturday. When I came back my attention was drawn to my driveway. I wondered to myself when it started looking so bad. Why it looks so bad I can answer because I drive allot of heavy stuff across it on a regular basis. I never thought I would be needing to re-do the driveway anytime soon. I have had repairs to it done earlier this year because my truck was wider than the drive in spots. I made the mistake of getting by with what I needed versus spending the money and getting what I wanted. Why do we do that? I actually took the picture to send to my wife to let her know I was going to get quotes to have the drive redone. She replied with whatever I want to do is fine with her and she doesn’t see any problem with the way it is. But, when it was a gravel road she hated it and now that the asphalt is getting tore up she is fine with it. This is an area where we always disagree and probably always will. Sadly I let this conversation with my wife distract me from what I was actually on my way to do. It happens on occasion, I see things I want to get done, they get put on the “list” and sooner or later might get done. I try to keep my list in check but there are times it gets blown out of proportion. The purpose of this particular weekend was to just relax, stay off my foot, and continue to recover. But, eventhough my wife and kids were out-of-town I just couldn’t sit still and do absolutely nothing, it’s not who I am and it’s pretty much impossible for me to be still.

When I got out to my shop I was reminded again that I need some kind of pad around the building because it gets a little messy getting in and out at times. Trust me, it’s on the list. This weekend was no different, we got a fair share of rain. Luckily for me, the ground around the building drains pretty well and really fast. Maybe that is why it is always on the back burner. I figure I will probably take the time to grade it out and do it all in gravel sometime this winter. I could do it now but my clutch foot is still full of stitches. I found it was sort of a mistake to drive something with a clutch when I took my truck in for an oil change before running errands to get what I needed. I never knew how much I depended on being able to use my left foot. It’s a challenge to drive but also a challenge to walk. Forget picking anything up heavier than a pillow as I found out. Maybe I should have just planted my but on the couch in front of the television this weekend. There’s time for that later. I’m here now. I’ve returned from the hardware store. I have what I need now and it is time to focus and get it done.

At the beginning of the summer I was given some re-claimed cypress planks from an old house that was torn down a few miles from here. I accepted the wood as payment for helping out doing a bit of tractor work for the guy doing the demolition. He got his truck stuck and he had walked to the back of my property and noticed I was down by the creek and asked me to help him out. There wasn’t much of the cypress wood to salvage but there was enough, I found, after cleaning it all up, to make two doors. This picture does no justice to the size of them since each one of them are 36″ x 84″. They were actually purpose-built, I had the full intention of using them here on my building to replace both of the single person entrance doors which are metal. However, as I get them done I wonder if it is what I really want to do with them. Do they deserve to be more than just shop entrance doors? I took the picture and sent it to my wife for her opinion and she asked me what in the hell I was doing working and why I wasn’t resting. That wasn’t the answer I was looking for but it was the answer I received. So, there they sat for the remainder of the day, staring at me in a way that I could feel the doors asking me if I wasn’t sure of what I wanted to do then why did I do it. Valid question I guess, even if it was from the doors. Perhaps the fumes were getting to me. They aren’t finished yet anyway because I don’t want to completely finish them until I know what they will be used for. Maybe I can just cut my losses of indecision and just sell them, I’ve done it before, made things for the house and decided that it wasn’t what I was looking for. I have began to ask myself why I do it in the first place. Still waiting on the answer by the way.

I spent the rest of the day straightening up my shop, putting things away, and sweeping the floor for the most part. I tried not to move anything because I really don’t want to muck up my foot after 2 1/2 weeks of nursing it back to health. All I know is the sutures come out Wednesday morning if the surgeon “feels” they are ready to come out.  Anyway, I happened across some boxes I had put out in the shop over a year ago that should have made it into the attic but ended up in the corner instead. It goes to show I get sidetracked very easily. There was no need to look into the boxes because I knew what was in them. Fortunately they weigh about 100 pounds a piece so they get to stay where I found them. I piddled around in the shop for the remainder of the day. Around dark-thirty I get a text from my wife letting me know they where home and that the gate was stuck open again. So, I closed up shop, jumped on my ATV, and headed up to the gate to see what was up. As I suspected, the linkage had become undone again. I guess it is time to go ahead and replace it this time instead of the band-aid repairs I have been giving it over the last year. Quite honestly I had completely forgot about having it fixed since I personally haven’t had problems with it. But, I had to do another band-aid fix this time and will mess with taking it off tomorrow to have a new one made at the place I bought it from originally. On my trek back up to the house I decided to skip going down to the shop to put my tools up. As I rode up the asphalt drive it hit me again that I didn’t put on my list to get a quote for the replacement of it. Pretty soon I think I need to chuck the list in a bucket and set it on fire. I don’t know why I do lists anymore because I don’t follow what I can’t keep up with. Well, I figure that sooner or later it will all be done. When I get to the house I was informed that I need to light the grill, which was good because I was beginning to wonder what was dinner.

And, by the way, I have decided to sell the doors. I decided this while I was cooking and thinking I was not looking forward to doing a swap out. I will put them up on craigslist later. Meanwhile, if anyone is interested just shoot me an e-mail. Price? the price will completely be based on who is wanting to buy them. Amazing how a little smoke can clear the clouded mind!