A Brief History Of Three Great Words


As always, members of The Scorpion Army are up early finding things which normally would go unseen or unread. Today’s presentation briefly delves deep into the history of Fuck, Shit, and Cunt, three of my favorite four-letter words that have an intriguing and very fascinating history. Rather than being written in manuscripts by monks, we find them used by normal people and preserved in surprising places like place names, personal names, and animal names and they reveal more about our medieval past than just attitudes towards sex and body parts.


Fuck isn’t thought to have existed in English before the fifteenth century and possibly arrived later from German or Dutch. In fact, the Oxford English Dictionary says it wasn’t used until 1500. Using place names though, we can trace it back a bit earlier.

Many early instances of fuck were actually used to mean “to strike” rather than being anything to do with actual fucking. The more common Middle English word for sex wasswive, which has developed nicely into the Modern English word swivel, as in: go swivel on it. Some of the earliest instances of fuck then, turn out to mean “hitting” or “striking,” such as Simon Fuckebotere (recorded in 1290), who was disappointingly probably in the milk industry, hitting butter rather than doing anything else with it, or Henry Fuckebeggar (1286/7) who may have, unfortunately, hit the poor.

The earliest examples of fuck in English appear in place names. The first is found near Sherwood in 1287: Ric Wyndfuk and Ric Wyndfuck de Wodehous. These both feature a kestrel known as the Windfucker which, we must assume, went at the wind. The next definite example comes from Bristol 1373 in Fockynggroue, which may have been named for a grove where couples went for some quiet alone time.


Like fuckshit has a rich history, being used across the Germanic and Scandinavian languages, making it one of our oldest words. It originally had a technical usage, meaning diarrhoea in cattle, and it crops up in lots of place names from a time when people were herding cattle and naming things, such as Schitebroc—now Skidbrook—which literally means “shit-stream,” found in the Domesday Book for Lincolnshire.

Shit did not just happen in the countryside though. Street-names, for example, reflect the grotty state of urban living in graphic detail. Schiteburne Lane—now Sherbourn Lane in London—means “shit-stream lane,” and Schiteburg Lane in Romford uses borough in the middle, meaning a fortress, to paint a vivid picture of a privy, standing proud as a mockery of a palace in the middle of town.


This too is an old word, appearing across the Germanic and Scandinavian languages, although any connection to the Latin cunnusis unlikely, despite the apparent similarity. Originally, rather than being a taboo word, it was the general descriptive term for the vagina. Cunt is, etymologically, more feminist than vagina, which is dependent on the penis for its definition, coming from the Latin for “sword sheath.”

Records of cunt start comparatively early. There’s a runic inscription which reads ‘kunt,’ but that was probably a spelling mistake. Nearly all of the early evidence comes from place names and even personal names—pity, or perhaps applaud, Bele Wydecunthe in 1328, for example.

The most famous of the place names is Gropecunt Lane which at one point appeared in twenty places, generally describing—with pleasing matter-of-factness—a red light district. These have all since been lost, or have been changed to Grape Lane, but all are still easily traced.

But other place names are no less revealing.

Shavecuntewelle in Kent in 1275, for example, could describe a nearby valley with a narrow wooded area—a literal lady-garden, if you will—or it could be a site where women were punished. Cuntewellewang in Lincolnshire (1317) seems to describe a similar type of landscape.

And the thirteenth-century Hardecunt? Who knows, it’s just a great name.

Perhaps the most glorious example of cunt in a place name is Hungery Cunt, found in a 1750 military map of Kinross-shire, Scotland. Disappointingly, though, this is probably just a mistake: a misreading of Hungeremout.

These early instances of now heavily taboo words open up the world of normal people in medieval England and a different—and more vibrant—picture of the history of our language. They allow us to meet a very literal and pragmatic people with a healthy sense of humour about their bodies and their environment.

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.



Thank You Karma, I’ve Been Patient


So, I was working at the club last night, bored to the point I was actually on the verge of falling asleep standing up. Then, a ringtone begins to play on my phone, one I have not heard in many years, “The Bitch Is Back”, when I look at the screen to make sure it is who I think it is, I see ” The Cunt” is calling. Before I get into this wonderful conversation, let me remind y’all that in just over 15 years, I have spoken with my ex on the phone 4 times, and in person twice. Needless to say, we are on less than talking terms, much less being cordial terms with one another. But she called, which had to be hard for her personally, and now I am wasting my time “writing” about her cuntness while sitting here in my shop with better things to do, like scraping the duck shit off of my 50 year old iron bench so I can refinish it later. Oh Yea, the phone call.

When I first saw who it was I did smile a bit, but only because I was hoping she was calling me to say “I’m sorry” and “you are right”. It makes me smile because in 12 years of marriage and all the years since, I have never heard those words. Oh well, I better see what she wants so I don’t have to listen to a lengthy voicemail. It started off polite enough, almost like she was reading a prewritten script or something. I know I am the last person on Earth she wanted to be calling. Like normal, she talked and I listened, this is just the way it works, she wants something I have, and I just listen. This time it was different, this time there were a couple of ” pleases” there and a bit of gratitude in her voice. I had to pull my phone back twice to make sure who was calling me. Very strange indeed. So, what does she want? Well, that’s complicated. So you understand better, I need to take y’all back to when we were getting divorced because it would appear she made a few boo boos filing her taxes and now she has an appointment to discuss the discrepancies.

Anyway, part of the terms of our divorce were for her to receive proceeds from the sale, rental, or lease from the house we once called home. It always struck a nerve with me because this house was only in my name. But whatever, community property is what it is. The market to sell was very soft, so, with the aid of a realitor, which I paid for 100%, we put it on the market to rent. Now, I remind y’all, by this time I was out if the Air Force, living in Houston, and this house is in Alamogordo New Mexico. Within a month of our divorce a military couple were signing a rental agreement. Since I was still paying for the house, each month there was about $500 remaining, which I was oblidged to split with my now ex-wife. I made sure I wrote a paper check each month for ease of keeping the records straight. After around 3 years of the same couple renting the house, I received an offer to purchase it, cash. Seems the housing market was on the rise there. I purchased the house for $57,000.00, put another $10k into it, and at the point when they made the offer, I still owed the bank roughly $18k. What was their offer for this 2900 sq ft, 4 bedroom, 2 1/2 bath house? $98,699.00 plus closing costs with immediate move in. Without thinking, I agreed to the sale. But the cunt would not see half because I protested the decree and proved she never spent a penny on the house, the judge awarded her $20,021.09 payable over the next 16 months.

OK, so here is the problem, never did she report any of the proceeds from the rent or the final sale as income or a source of revenue when she filed her taxes. Oops. So, as it stands, she is claiming ignorance, and she has been given 30 days to prove she shouldn’t owe over $56k in taxes, penalties, and fines. She has been trying, unsuccessfully obviously, to do this on her own, leaving only a few more days before the 5th of August rolls around. Like I told her, I am not giving up any information without written proof she needs my information. When I asked what I get in return for graciously taking time out of my life to copy all the shit she needs, she offered to take me out for steak. I told her, in that case, when she shows up at my front gate to pick up her package, because I refused to do everything for her, for her to leave enough time for dinner. After a long, very dramatic pause, with a sigh, she agreed to meet with me on Saturday.

So, why am I helping the cunt? Its easy, I don’t want her mess getting on me, because trust me, she would find a way to suck me down that rabbit hole. Meanwhile, in exchange for the documents she has requested, my lawyer has drawn up documents that she must sign which release me from any obligations, financially or otherwise, and it includes a detailed inventory of all the documents so if push comes to shove, I can show I provided up, above, and beyond everything I could. No sign, no copies. Luckily for me, I keep the records of my past life neatly tucked away in a small three drawer filing cabinet. Lucky for her I packratted all of this away or she would be fucked and she probably doesn’t like prison orange anyway.

You want funny? As she reads along with you here today she is realizing that I truly don’t give a fuck about her situation and that this life lesson is one that will soon be forgotten by her because that is just the way she is. Yes, she reads my blog, only because my daughter sees to it on occasion for some reason. In the end, my dearest cunt, I can only thank you because you gave me something to do with my time and gave me something special to write about today. See you Saturday. Remember not to be sad in your time of need because, like always I am prepared, something you never took the time to learn.


Reviewing The Lack Of Common Sense

hate-mail-1Before we begin with today’s collection of complaints, suggestion, and requests for me to fall off the face of the planet, I would like to remind readers that if you are “sensitive” to the world around you then The Sting Of The Scorpion is not the blog for you to be reading. One should review the “Disclaimer & General Information” for The Sting Of The Scorpion and when y’all do the first paragraph reads as follows. “The Sting Of The Scorpion and my other pages are personally operated and maintained by me, Scorpion Sting, based on my opinions, beliefs, and observations. While you are at any of The Sting Of The Scorpion blogs I am not in any way responsible for your feelings or if you get offended in any way, since it is your choice to be here. I will discuss a wide variety and scope of many things, both popular and unpopular. Content using adult language, situations, and subjects, implied or outright, can and will be seen here“. Yet, many people believe I need to cater to them specifically. Some examples will be discussed in the paragraphs below.

So, let us begin, let us explore what I find as a complete lack of common sense and a complete lack, by some readers, to be able to adapt and overcome themselves. First of all, I mention this all of the time here, I’m not here to please you. If you get pleased while you are here then that is  bonus for all of us. I write, post, re-post, share, and commentate on a variety of subjects and that is just the way it is around here. Unless you pay the bills or sleep in the bed next to me at night your negative opinions of me and The Sting Of The Scorpion really carry very little weight. But, as always, complaints concern me a bit and “deserve” to be addressed. In the past, I would lay people’s e-mails, home address, phone numbers, names, blogs, websites, and so forth out so others might be able to share something with y’all. But, this isn’t the hall of fame for fucktard pussies. Y’all know who you are, I know who you are, and you should know I really enjoy fucking with y’all. More on that a little later.

Let’s begin with the language I use here. First, what is considered the bad words I use regularly. My absolute favorite word is fuck, it has so many colorful uses. In fact, I felt inclined to write a post on different ways to use the word fuck so people could study up at “How To Use The Word “Fuck” Properly“. Why? Because Fuck – The Only Word That Can Be Used As A Noun, Verb, And Adjective! In the fucking end,  the fucking thing I really fucking like about the English language is that you can fucking put the fucking words “fuck, fucked, and fucking” every fucking place you fucking want. Fuck is a word I use allot because I want to. Deal with it because it probably only gets worse as I get older. For all of y’all newbies I just want to tell y’all to buckle up and hold on, that is the one piece of free advice I offer. Yes, I know I don’t have a Rated G mouth or vocabulary. Yes I know that I’m not Christian ears friendly either. But, the offended fucktards keep coming back which really bewilders me in the end. Why return? Why subject yourselves to the “abuse” that y’all think I spew? Anyways.

Yes, I speak about adoption, my family, my journey, and the history of “ME” in a candid way here. Why? Because it is who I am. I don’t represent anyone in particular, just me and how it has been happening for me. Yes, I know not everyone has a “success story” and many will never know their roots. What do you want me to do, apologize because I was lucky? That’s never going to fucking happen because I have nothing to apologize for. Speaking of which, speaking of apologies, I think the fact that I can speak about my son being a bipolar autistic child openly would be appreciated, but no, this is supposed to be some kind of a dirty little fucking family secret. Well, it’s not, he is our son.

Yes, it’s true, I do talk about religion, God, Christianity, heaven, hell, and sheeple. Are these not all things that surround everyone every single moment of every day? Whether you have these things in your life or not they are still there, everyfuckingday. Yes, I find the fact that there are those who cling to ideas and fairytales that make no sense to me personally a point which I feel I need to write about it. I really don’t give a fuck what your beliefs are or why you have them. However, I do find it humorous when readers tell me I’m going to hell for blasphemous comments I make. Hell? Really? Again we can ask what this “hell” that is spoken of, but no matter what there will never be an answer to what hell is now will there? Who knows, maybe I’m already there if there is a there that is called hell.

Yes, it is correct, I do not have a political orientation. I do, however, know what I do NOT like. Y’all are correct, I don’t like our president, in my opinion he is the pure definition of fraud. Yes, I post different things here reflecting different political opinions. Does this make me a white supremest and a racist? apparently it does because that is the two most popular words I get called. How convenient the president is a black man and now those who disagree with his “politics” are labeled racist. I’m happy he gets your rocks off but that doesn’t mean I need to like watching it happen. I also write and post quite a bit about the government and it’s continuing quest to spent everyone’s money in a fashion which only seems to suit themselves. Yes, I know, it has been going on since the beginning of government, but I’ve only been around for what it has become now. Our government is full of fraud and frauds and I’m not okay with that. For those of y’all convinced that I only see our president as a failure because of his color then you just might need to pull y’all’s head out of the oven before it’s too damn late.

Yes, lately I have been writing about the cunt who is my ex. And? Have some compassion for her and her mistakes? Fuck her, she made her bed and got caught fucking someone else in it. I don’t ask you to walk in my shoes, I just ask that you pull your head out of your ass so you can see that some people are just cunts. Now, don’t get me wrong, I find the soap opera she calls a life very entertaining to say the least. She proves everyday that her status of cunt is well deserved. I have no compassion for her or how her life has turned out, zero.

Over the last couple of months I have welcomed many new followers. Why do they come? No matter, they have decided to follow, I won’t judge them for their lack of taste. Maybe everyone here is just looking for a little “strange” on the side. Speaking of which, I have found that when I re-tell the stories from when I bartended at a full nude strip bar that some people think that some of it is “too much information”. I can’t help it, life is graphic, life is colorful, life has nudity in it, life has sex in it, and life has people in it. I can’t sugar coat life for anybody that’s just the fucking facts. No, I’m not very politically correct, it’s not in my DNA. One more piece of fucking advice, just be who you are, just live your life, get over yourself if needed, pull your head out of your ass if needed, get outside to live life, and remember that somewhere somebody loves you. Other than that, y’all’s e-mails and comments are always welcome here. They may not ever get posted, but they are always welcome nonetheless.

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When We See The Light Under The Door


When we see the light under the door it peeks our curiosity to the point where we have to accept the consequences and just open it. What if we have our hand on the knob but can’t bring ourselves to turn it, for fear of what’s on the other side? The fear of the unknown can be far worse than the thought of seeing everything is as we left it. Sometimes though, even though we may be really afraid, all we need to do is open the door just a bit and let the light come flooding out. It’s certainly not as frightening as throwing the door wide open and finding out there could be anything behind that door! But just a crack isn’t so daunting and the light it lets out enables us to see so much more than when the door was closed. In fact, we may be amazed at how much light is coming through that very small gap. Once we’ve opened the door very slightly, our eyes adjust to the new light level and then we may be able to open the door even more. We forget how daunting it was just to walk up to it and how much energy it took to put our hand on the knob. But now it is open and this is where we begin the story of husband coming home after being deployed to a far away land only to find that all of his fears are coming true and are in front of him.

The husband frequently wondered what went on behind the closed bedroom door when he was away for long periods of time. After he had some years in the Air Force under his belt he had heard of many disappointing returns that were less than the anticipated celebration. He always comforted himself with the knowledge that his wife loves him enough not to be caught off guard by loneliness. That only happens in other marriages; in those marriages where there are already underlying problems and the love has began to fade. The husband always made it a point to remain committed in his marriage and walked away from situations which might be considered compromising. The husband did this faithfully without question every day he walked out the door of their house. He was always comfortable knowing that his wife would be there to greet him with love each time he returned. As time rushes by and he began to be separated from his wife more, he finds himself consumed with fear that maybe his time has finally come to be the one who is disappointed when opening the door.

The husband had seen many things in his life, from the gruesome to the absolutely beautiful, but nothing prepared him for what he was about to witness. This time when he saw the light under the door he could hear noises, he could hear voices, and he was hearing sounds of a struggle. The husband did what came naturally, he whipped the door open with such power that it was hard to keep it from embedding itself into the wall behind it. He saw two people on the bed in the master bedroom, both frozen in a test of time to see who would move first. The husband wishes what he was seeing was not so, but when he blinked and re-opened his eyes what was happening became even clearer. He stood at the door waiting for something, anything, to help him make sense of the scene in front of him. But there was nothing, the moment was frozen in time, the faces were almost expressionless in their disbelief. The husband reached for the door handle and then pulled the door closed. He needed a few moments to clear his mind because he was in the process of making some decisions that will change his life forever.

Now that the husband had opened the door he saw firsthand that things were not at all normal. Now he can’t imagine seeing anything different and now he is having a hard time trying remember how he was feeling before he opened it. Is he mad. Is he sad. Is he sorry. Is he crushed. Is he calm. Is he in pain. He is mad, the emotion he feels is pure anger. The husband waited patiently sitting in his chair in the living room for the door to open again. In his own mind he had waited an eternity and was willing to risk opening the door again. As he arose from his chair the door swiftly opened up. Following the door opening came two bodies, one he was familiar with and one that he wanted to kill. In reality, he had it in his mind that they were both moments away from taken their last breathes on planet Earth. But wait, his wife is choosing to speak, she tells the husband she can explain. He thinks to himself a question with a grin on his face, how can this cunt explain why she was just caught with another sitting on her chest with her legs spread wide with his dick in her mouth? This should be good. Now he wonders why he opened the door in the first place.

While the husband stared through the couple he apologized for what was going to happen next as a consequence of the mistakes they have made. The husband produced his pistol, up until this point only destroying paper targets, his Desert Eagle was his favorite, he imagined the holes it would make in his new targets. He imagined the mess he would have to clean up after words. He imagined a quiet place in the desert where every creature there would devour every last bit of the evidence. The husband commanded that the couple kneel before him and beg him for his forgiveness. They both kneeled in silence of words but the crying was deafening even though it was but a whimper. At this point the husband announced his unfaithful wife that from this day forward she will only be referred to as a cunt. With that being said he put the pistol to the head of his wife. He sat there, remembering their wedding vows, thinking how it will be til death do us part. He pulled the trigger, click. He watched as she pissed herself knowing that the gun was not loaded. In one backhanded swing he struck the head of her lover. Her lover now is on his side, unconscious, bleeding, not moving or crying any longer.

Soon enough the base Security Police arrived. unsure what happened, the Security Police separated the husband from the situation and removed him from the house. The husband watched as the ambulance came to take care of the wounded lover. The husband knew his marriage was over the moment he saw the cunt fawning all over her lover, assuring him that her asshole husband was going to pay for what happened here tonight. Fuck it, the chips have fallen. The husband spent the next ninety days in the county jail under the charges of domestic abuse. He was also charged, by the Air Force, with assault and battery of an Officer. All charges were later dropped and removed from record by request of the Officer. How nice. Within a few months the husband and wife were no more, the only evidence the husband had of his failed marriage was the devout love from his young daughter. The husband was awarded full custody of his daughter as the courts believed the mother to be a bit unstable.

Moral of the story? Be careful how bad you “need” to open closed doors. Be prepared for whatever is behind the closed door. Finally, never kill anything in rage, not even a cheating cunt of a wife. Why ruin your own life because of someone else’s stupidity? If you haven’t guessed yet, this story is my own. At first the gun was loaded, I had every intent of putting them out of my misery, then I gently removed the clip and placed it in my pocket, these few moments assured me that I might go to jail that night but I will not go to prison for the rest of my life. The reason for me telling this story was because I have touched the subject off and on of my ex, I thought it was time everyone knew why she gets referred to as the cunt.

Why So Serious All The Time?


Recently I received an e-mail which asked “How can you continuously besmirch our Lord the savior Jesus Christ?” and that wasn’t all she asked. She asked allot of questions about why I hate everyone and everything. I don’t think I have been asked such specific questions so I wanted to share so I could explore out-loud what I am thinking. Usually I get asked “why?” allot or I get told, in simple terms, “to go to hell” for the most part. People are so judgemental of what others have to say. Granted, I do write about a few sensitive subjects on occasion, like race, adoption, smoking and cooking, sheeple, fucktards, religion, atheists, Christians and Christianity, Jesus and God, the Devil, strippers, alcohol and drinking, disabilities, and so forth, so pick something from “A” to “Z” and I have probably written about it.. I don’t expect everyone or anyone to share in on my personal opinion, if you do then you do and if you don’t then so be it, no hard feelings either way on my part. The only qualifications I have to have my opinions is the simple fact that I’m a human being sharing this planet with many others so I get to see allot from my point of view. So, back to why I’m writing this post.

“How can you continuously besmirch our Lord the savior Jesus Christ?” That’s an accusation and a question all rolled up in one. To be honest, besmirch was a new word to me, not one previously in my limited redneck vocabulary, so I had to look it up to see what it means. Here’s what I found. the definition of besmirch (biˈsmərCH): to damage the reputation of (someone or something) in the opinion of others or to make dirty; to soil. Now the term continuously: uninterrupted in time, sequence, substance, or extent. Now, I’ve looked back in review, over the general contents included in my blog. Guess what I found. Nothing, in my opinion, that would suggest a continuous or even a partial besmirching of anything, in fact there isn’t one single thing that has space on my blog that gets continuous commitment. Now, if you want to talk about what I have had to say about the freaks in The Westboro Baptist Church that’s a different story, I mean, come on, is it normal for a group of people claiming to be Christians doing God’s work to have their website address as “godhatesfags”. Perhaps I’m the only person on the planet that doesn’t think that’s normal. Now, if that is Christian bashing then some of y’all need to check to make sure you are praying to the right idol. So, I’m at a loss with the concerns that I’m besmirching Jesus Christ anywhere ever here on my blog or in person. Just because I don’t believe in God or Jesus doesn’t mean I hate them or that I wish to damage their reputation. When I talk about Christianity in general it is because the “news” is on the radio, the papers, on the internet somewhere, and occasionally the information comes home from church with my wife. Still doesn’t make me a Christian hater. A better description would be a person who chose not to be sucked into Christian conformity.

So, what am I trying to get at here? Not sure, but I hope to have that figured out before we are done here. All I know is that I am a human being just trying to live my life the best way I know how. That’s all I have to offer, no more, no less. I return now with fresh thoughts after an extended lunch hour. I suppose I understand the judgemental nature of the human animal, we tend to judge and assume what we don’t know simply because we have never learned to do it any other way. Meaning? People tend to pick one point and focus on it with such fury that they become blinded by everything else, like the truth for example. I’m comfortable with myself within my own skin, with my thoughts, my actions, my life, and what I write about right here. I don’t hate anyone that I know of, with the exception of my ex-wife who is the queen of evil cunts. Other than my personal thoughts about her, I have no problems with people. I do, however, reserve the right to have an opinion or three about daily observations that I witness on a day-to-day basis. It’s just that damn simple. If, for whatever reason, you or someone you know, falls into the subject, topic, or category I happen to be discussing and you feel it’s like I’m pouring salt into your open wound then that is all on you because all I am doing is talking, I didn’t make what I’m talking a part of your life, you did. So, there you have it. Did it answer all of your questions? I hope not because I wasn’t trying to answer anyone’s questions. Look, I’m just here doing my thing, just living my life, and trying not to be so serious all the time. You should try it sometimes, it’s nice.