The Web Doctor Told Me I Am Dead

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You wish, but this is not about me nor does it have to do with me except the person I will be talking about just happens to be in my life. Its 3:16 in the morning, yes this morning, and my wife is getting a phone call from her ex-husband, which she promptly ignores because it is 3:16 in the damn morning. Moments later she gets a text from him, “please call me its an emergency!!!!!!!” For the purpose of this true story we will call her ex “Mike” or “Fucktard” which both will refer to him as this person. This is not Mike’s first 3 in the fucking morning life threatening emergency, only one out of thousands in the last 15 years that my wife and I have been married. Now, before we get to deep I need to plant the Mike seed in your brain so you might understand better how this always goes down. You see, Mike is a hypochondriac with a very severe case of anxiety and depression which leads him to believe he has some deadly disease that is killing him or that everyone around him hates him and wants to kill him. I think the later is true in life more often than not. I don’t personally hate him but I do think he is the perfect example of a rectal fucktard, make that the rectal fucktard poster child, Yea, that’s a better way of describing him. The sad thing about Mike is that he has a very successful high six figure income in charge of 90 plus employees and is very well educated with 3 different Masters in accounting, which is good because he is a corporate accountant (CFO) with the company he works for. Poor dumb bastard is one book smart motherfucker but a real fucktard of a person in real life. Oh, and by the way, he thinks of my wife still as his possession and therefore she is at his disposal 24/7/365.

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Anyway, back to his most recent dilemma. By the time my wife calls him back his is all worked up, crying, deliriously blowing things excessively out of proportion. She has him on speaker so I can enjoy, I can’t begin to thank her enough or go back to sleep. Okay, that’s not entirely true, I did doze off a little in the beginning and missed most of his “symptoms” but once I heard death came for him for real this time the fucktard had my full attention. If y’all are asking why he thinks my wife has expert advice, besides the fact he still worships her, its because she is the office manager for an association of doctors that include family practice, mental health, orthopedics, sleep study, and a handful of others I can’t pronounce, so he believes her to be an authority on most things medical. Which is funny, really, because her degree is in people and financial management, not diagnosing illnesses or treating them, but she plays his game, mostly just letting Mike do ALL the talking. She recommends visiting his PCP 80 to 90 times just in this last crisis alone. She never tries to explain or define things to him, she just listens and tries to sooth the soul of this grossly misguided fucktard. I gotta love her patience and I do admire her for it but I am beginning to think its time to go ahead and cut the cord, but she is too nice and way too accommodating. After roughly an hour she calmed him down, soothing the savage beast within the confines if Mike’s skull and then it was over.

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But was it? Is it really over? Not if I have anything to do with it, now its time to play. Around 6 in the morning I went to his house, I knew he would be heading off to work soon, so now it is my turn. With my best drug dealer moves I went up to him carrying a small paper bag I found on the side of the road, minus the beer can now, and told him I had his answer. Just screw everything you ever read, heard, or what has been told to you, I hold the answer in this brown paper bag. There are 4 capsules, take two right now and two after lunch, and all of your problems will disappear. I told him it was very hush hush and not to tell a soul. He agrees and takes the first two capsules. Quietly I whispered to him it was called Fukitol, the best medicine for whatever ails him. He asks if he should tell his doctor later in the day when he goes to his appointment and I told him it would be a good idea so maybe he can get his own prescription. Then I left, watching him drive into the sunrise. Don’t worry, the capsules are from a gag gift, they are filled with that shit they put in Pixie Sticks. So, a sugar rush is all he will get. He calls me later in the morning to thank me because he feels the best he has felt in 25 years. Just goes to show y’all, a little sugar candy goes a long way in the mind of an anxiety filled hypochondriac. Have a nice day, Mike, have fun at your doctors appointment.

Posted From Scorpion Sting’s Motorola Droid Maxx!

An Open Letter To Whomever

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It has come to my attention within the last 24 hours that I made remarks which certain people on our planet have taken to be historically in bad taste. These people mistake my sarcasm as me just being a cold hearted bastard. I make light of many things in current times as well as in history but for some reason, that I am obviously to damn ignorant to comprehend, people find cause in pointing out WHY what was said was so wrong and offensive. I have the answer to why this happens and that answer is simple. I am who I am and you ate not me, you are not capable of knowing what I know, seeing what I see, or even grasping why I speak the way I do. I don’t offend people on purpose, people make the choice to get offended by what I say. Here’s the damn deal, I don’t give a shit. It goes well beyond this blog, it goes deeper than social media, and the big picture is something these people choose not to see. Its great that they can pin point focus on a tiny part but 99.99% of the time it is taken way out of context which really draws one attention away from how words were being used. Right now there are people wondering what in the unholy Fuck I am talking about, which is cool because we don’t all travel in the same social circles. If you know what I am referencing that is great and if you are not with the program that is great as well. All I ask is that one must remember that there are things and people and placed that I understand all to well and the way I choose to interact is my way, its not something I need permission to do. It doesn’t make a difference to me if people come here or interact with me. Its nice that y’all do but I don’t run off and cry when people leave me. Shit happens because that’s just fucking life. I will be the first to admit we ate different, and you should cherish that fact not be offended by that fact. But who am I to say, y’all are strong willed people and should already now this. I mentioned, when I started here on WP that I was being reborn, that I was back with a purpose this time, and will not cater to the pussies in the world who think that complaining enough will finally get me shut down. Should it offend me that you are offended? Nope, fuck you. My blog and what I say is not for everyone, hell its not actually for anyone, except those who have the stomach to go ahead and be amused with life and the people here on planet dirt. We, the people of planet Earth, are all fucked up in one way or another. I have yet to meet the perfect human and I am comfortable knowing that I never will. Its probably a stretch to ask people to have their own lives perfect before deciding mine is not, I will make it simple for you, I don’t live the perfect life in your eyes, but I do live a perfectly happy life in my own eyes. Luckily I gave up, many many years ago, trying to convince people that they are very different from each other. As a bonus, this decision to give up has given me a better opportunity to watch people make complete asses out of themselves while they try to get me and others to give a shit about there opinions.

In conclusion, I know I have opened the literal flood gates of hate and poison that certain people have coursing through their veins by merely having an oppositional opinion that may differ from their own. Yes, I am an asshole. Tell me something I don’t already know. But, y’all should know that generally I don’t pull out my asshole card unless provoked to do so. Some will argue, as the do regularly, that the mete existence of this blog and its contents will always provoke an I’ll response from just the right person at that right moment in time. At the end of the day we can all agree on one simple fact, each of us must take care of ourselves and our own sanity. We can’t all be sheeple and Fucktards now can we.

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Postal Customer Fucktard

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We all know I do allot on eBay either buying or selling which involves me making a trip to the local post office at least once a week to mail out packages. This post office has had the same business hours for as long as I can remember but that never seems to please the impatient I’ll tempered big mouths who make the choice to be a bitchy fucktard. Y’all know her, she is the one pacing in line like a nervous first time mother cat. Each moment that passes one can hear her claws digging into the flooring through her flip flops. Why? Because in eyes, in her tiny little mind, her time is more valuable than anyone else’s time. Fuck you, cunt, wait in line like the rest of us peons. According to the clock on the wall it was 8:58 when the steel roll up door started moving, signaling to us in line that the postal employees were about to begin with the first customers in line. This morning there were two lines, the one I was four deep in that the people were buying something or shipping something and the other line which was for picking up packages and bulk mail which is where the twitchy big mouth bitch was standing, she was sixth in her line. She saw a problem, three people doing the outbound line and nobody tending to her line. The USPS employee closest to her was now hearing about it. Every single person in the post office could see and hear this very polite employee trying to get the lady to just push the button for the service bell. The bitch wouldn’t have nothing to do with it, yelling now, annoyed for some stupid reason, she demanded the employee’s name and to have her supervisor appear at once or “the shit was going to hit the fan” because she doesn’t have time to speak with somebody so low on the totem pole.

As fate would have it, I’m next to be called up, lucky me I get the poor employee who was getting all the verbal abuse, which is funny because she is still behind one person. In reality, both lines were actually moving quite swiftly in my opinion as it was only 5 minutes after 9 now. I was mailing 7 small flat rate boxes to 7 different states so mine might take a few minutes. Then the hitch is next in her line. The first thing out of mouth was that she had a big problem with the black woman with a mouth that won’t quit. The black woman being the employee assisting me at the moment. When he wouldn’t repremand the other employee on the spot she started in on her once again. Verbal abuse, racial slurs, postal innuendos, and even took a jab at her weight. Meanwhile, with a rather large smile, she continued to process my packages, only 2 more to go. Then, out of the blue, my bullshitometer had peaked and I found myself turning to the loud mouth bitch and asking her sternly if she “wouldn’t mind shutting her fucking pie hole for the remainder of my timenim the post office” and then it was on. Here we go, fist fight in the post office! Blah blah blah blah was all I heard at that moment, she demanded my name and that I be thrown out because of how I spoke to her. When she was denied by me and the supervisor, she informed us she was calling the police. A quiet voice a few people back in line spoke up and said “don’t bother, I called them a few minutes ago when you kept on verbally attacking everyone”. For thirty seconds she was silent and then was on her phone talking to husband I assume yelling and cussimg loudly so everyone could hear and brought up that I verbally abused her. Well, now I am done at the window, and I turn to leave, stopping briefly in front of her, and told her while I took her phone out of her freshly manicured claws ” that she was done here, right now, she needed to get the fuck out of everyone’s face and out of the post office before I was forced to assist her”.

She left, I watched her get into her little Mercedes convertible and speed away. I handed her phone to the supervisor and apologized for my own behavior. I left my name and number in case it was needed for later. He reached out and shook my hand and told me he is damn glad that her performance, both audio and visual in color, had been recorded for review. Then I left as well because my business was complete at the post office. Did the police ever show up? Not while I was there. Did she retrieve her cell phone from the post office supervisor? I don’t know and really don’t care. Why do dumb cunts act like the world revolves around them? How anal can one person really be? I really don’t like people like her because she is a bitch just to be a bitch. In reality, I should have kept my mouth shut because I probably could have gotten in some deep shit, but I didn’t, and to tell y’all the truth I really don’t regret it at all. There was no point in what she was doing, what she was saying, or how she was treating the innocent postal employee. The deep dark side of me hopes she had a terrible accident after she left. Which is wrong, I know. I do, however, wish those two women to meet once again somewhere else because I promise you the postal employee can take her in no time flat.

This is a perfect example of why I don’t go out in public much, stupid fucktards really irritate me for some reason. The older I get the harder it has become to self police and keep my big trap shut when needed. Some people just suck, and like this lady, she has made it in to a fine art. There is no reason possible to need to treat people the way we all saw. It is a want, it is a desire, and she wants the attention to focus on her. I have pity for her husband and kids if she has any. I bet their life is just one fuckednup bundle of blissful madness. So, writing this helped me work through my morning. I was a little pissed earlier today but now that I am done writing about it I feel much better. I have said it in the past, this blog is my therapy, because talking out loud to myself has always proved to only scare the people who see it. Lesson of the day, don’t be a royal bitch just because you can, make the choice to keep your mouth closed occasionally. Most of all, treat people like you want to be treated. That’s it, I solved my own puzzle, she must get spoken to as she speaks to others, perhaps at home, so she just let’s whoever the next unlucky person be the point of all of the anger. Also, this is why I am not a therapist, because I wouldn’t be able to refrain from keeping my mouth shut to the whiny self centered fucktards on the planet. Oh well, I will just keep on being unemployed for now, seems to be working wondrous for my nerves and keeping my blood pressure down low. Anyway, thanks for dropping by and giving my ol’ blog an look see, I really appeciate everyone who visits.

Imagine The World Without Fucktards

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I imagine the world without fucktards every once in a while, then I am reminded somehow that the rest of the world needs fucktards, because every person on the planet wants to know what runs through a fucktards mind from time to time. Personally, I don’t want to spend any time whatsoever in the deep reaches of the interworking of the brain of any particular fucktards. I have noticed that there has become an increased number of fucktards in my life lately. Why? Maybe it is the places I have been visiting, and that isn’t just limited to the federal, state, and local government offices I have had to visit for reasons that I have been mentioning in the past. I will get into that in more detail as I go along. I have a trio for y’all today since I found a way to kill three birds with one stone, rather, as it would be, I ended up pissing in the bowls of a few fucktards bowl of Wheaties this morning for no more reason than what had to be said or done had to be said and done. So, let’s begin.

First stone was at the VA Medical Center in Hoiston to pick up my insulin that has been claimed to be undeliverable to the same address that ALL my other medications were mailed to and received. It was said to be attempted to deliver twice and returned twice for wrong address. Meaning, some fucktard dropped the ball twice and to cover his/her ass put in the false information. How do I know? When I asked what the tracking numbers assigned to the shipment by the VA and by the post office there were none to be found. Caught you bitches in two lies which upsets a fucktards. Then, for the cherry on top, they give me a 30 day supply not my ordered 90 day supply which means I get to play this fucked up game once again. Then, since I have yet to get my new glucose meter I went to the diabetic education office to speak with the head cheese to finally get it. Oops, she retired last month but absolutely nobody on the planet knows this except her. Did I get my meter? No, because the office will remain closed indefinitely until she is replaced. Really frustrated, I now leave the medical center before I really end up choking some random fucker for no other reason than it would feel real good to me at this point.

Since I was downtown I went to go pick up some hot rod remote control truck parts I bought from a dealer on line. When I get there to pick up my $327.67 order I was informed by this young smart mouth fucktards that since I did not pick up my order within the prescribed 24 period that my items were restocked and sold. As I explained to this dumbass, I ordered my items online Wednesday @ 8:13 pm for in store pickup at the very store I was standing in this morning. But wait, there a catch, they are only open Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. Even though I repeatedly contested based on this information he was not going to refund my money unless I paid the $75.00 restocking fee first. Really. I will admit, I let him piss me off, I raised my voice quite a bit and was throwing the word (in many variations) fun k like today WS the last day I could ever use it. It got the attention of the store owner, someone I have known for some 20 plus years who came over to inform me that the kid was new and my order was safe and sound. He asked if I still wanted it and I of course did so he went to retrieve it for me. To “smooth things over” I think, he gave me a $100.00 gift voucher to be used with in the next year in store only. We spoke for a bit more and then I grabbed my order and left. It left me thinking, what would the fucktards kid have done if the owner wasn’t there? He would have laid on the floor lifeless because he forced me to choke the dieing breath out of him for pissing me off beyond personal control. Would that be a good defense, hypothetically, when I was charged with the murder of a fucktards? I would be doing the would a favor, right?

Thirdly I ddropped into see the owner of the strip club I was formally employed with part time because she owed me $600.00 for some work I did for her personally at her house last month as a paid favor. I won’t get into what I was doing for her but it put me out around $250.00 in supplies that I paid for in advance. She said she would pay me later because when I went to settle she attempted to give me a check for something she agreed to pay cash for. I am easy so I accepted waiting. I don’t get to this side of town any more so I figured I would stop by the office to get paid. You’ll never guess, she didn’t have the cash on her even though I contacted her yesterday afternoon to let her know I was coming by to collect. Well, I guess it was the wrong answer. I hung out for 15 minutes while she ran to the bank. She brought be back $500.00 dollars, her ATM cash limit to give to me and I took a $100.00 check so I wouldn’t be forced to come back. Yeah me! I am such a nice guy. I then left, heading home. Pissed off with my morning I totally forget to go to the bank and I realize this as I look on the table in front of me and see her check.

In the end I did kill three birds with one stone. Those three birds also got a big fat bird from me to salute their pure and utter fucktardedness. They fight a good fight and stay true to their cause and for that I always feel inclined to give them my favorite one finger salute. Well, the VA got a single finger fuck you salute from each hand this morning because really, really deserved it.

Realtree Camouflage Toyota Venza?

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When someone e-mailed me with this Realtree Camouflage Toyota Venza I was at a loss for words. I’m still at a loss for words to tell y’all the truth. Now, I’m not knocking the Realtree Camouflage, but I would have to really question doing this camouflage wrap on a Toyota Venza. Why? WTF? I have NEVER, repeat NEVER, seen a Venza out in the woods loaded with hunting gear, loaded with large men, or a big bad buck strapped to the hood. Why haven’t I see this? Because it isn’t very practical as a hunting vehicle. The Venza itself, very practical I’m sure, but not really what I’m looking for when I shop a vehicle to take me deep in the woods to do a little hunting.

I was reminded, by my wife no less, that camouflage has gone “mainstream” and isn’t just for the “hunter” any longer. She’s right, I must admit, camouflage is the new black and everyone is using camouflage to make some sort of a statement. Here’s my statement, “I am a hunter, I use camouflage to remain unseen so I can bring home dinner”.  When I see things like this Venza I want to just weep for mankind because I know it won’t be long now before bad decisions will make us ALL extinct. The Venza camouflage job looks great, the company did a fantastic job inside and out, they just made a bad judgement call actually going through with the Venza wrap. I mean really, what kind of fucktard does a Realtree Camouflage wrap on a Toyota Venza anyways?

Not Even Traditions Are Safe From Hate

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Shortly, and I do mean shorty, like within 40 minutes shortly, after publishing Our Family Thanksgiving Tradition the meat eating hunter haters started their barrage of literal crap. I was a prepared because I know their are many people who A) don’t hunt, B) don’t eat meat, and C) think they are better than people who do eat meat and/or hunt or both. I have tried to understand the freakish nature of not hunting, I have explored that subject allot here and in real life as well. I have tried to understand why people who live a meat free life believe that everyone else is doing it wrong. I have tried to consider that when I write about hunting or meat in general that it will not appeal to everyone. I have come to a conclusion bitches, I don’t care what you do in your life, as pathetic as I might think your life is, it is still your life to live, not mine. I have been told by a few friends that by having a blog I open myself up to negative feedback, negative comments, and exposure to negative people. Well, they were right, eventhough I didn’t want to accept that some people are assholes just for the sole purpose of being an asshole. Now, I know my own personal intentions are not to offend people, but I do know that people will go out of their way to be offended because my lifestyle is not theirs. This fact used to concern me and I felt I needed to approach it all with soft gloves all around so everyone would be on an equal playing field. Well, fuck that, fuck it until it bleeds out because the gloves have come off, no more love taps, no more pulling back on my jabs, from this point forward I’m going straight for the juggler. If you don’t like what I say, what I do, how I write, or anything else, be prepared to be splattered all over my blog. Used to be, a big FUCK YOU would suffice. But you bitches are greedy and selfish, you want more, you need more, your over-indulgence has become overly-obvious, and now I plan on turning up the heat hoping you get burnt to a crisp.

One of the latest e-mailers (spammer tracks back to a virus infected website) stated that I needed to blog responsibly. The fucktard went on to explain the I have not been writing responsibly since I invite controversy with every word that is written here. I suppose the fucktard is correct, there are people who, in general, look to be offended. I often remind such fucktards that just because you are offended doesn’t make you right. It doesn’t mean you are wrong either, it just means that you let something I wrote offend you because you look for things to be offend by so you can justify your views. Well, here is my view. Since you made the choice to click the link, no matter where you saw it, and visit here. You might have seen it on WordPress, Blogcatalog, Pinterest, Facebook, or Google+. Those are the 5 places I place a link to updates on my blog. So, since I have to “belong” to each one of those websites and have an account I know I have “members”, “followers”, and “fans”. If you are getting my links then you too are a part of one or more of those five communities. If today, right now, all of my numbers dropped to dead zero I would not close my doors and blow away like dust in the wind. I would continue on, I would continue to do everything the exact same way. Why? Because I have no plans to cater to whiney sniveling crybaby bitches who have nothing better to do with their lives except be on the internet bitching about “content” on somebody’s blog. But, without you, without the grand ol’ fucktard, I would have just a little less to write about because I enjoy exploring the content of e-mails from ill-informed fucktards.

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As I stated above, I had one meat-hater in particular try to explain to me that I was a terrible father for teaching my children barbaric traditions and skills. The fucktard goes on to explain that if we choose to eat meat why can’t we buy it at the store like normal people. So much to cover in those two small sentences. Readers here and people in my personal life know that we are hunters in my family. It has been these skills passed down generation after generation that keeps it alive in our family. My children have the choice, if they don’t want to hunt they do not have to. If they wish not to eat the meat provided by hunting, then they don’t have to. But, I doubt you will ever hear those words from my 3 children or my wife. We buy very little from the grocery store and annually we only buy about 5%-10% of our meat from the store. Why? 1) We don’t need to, 2) we have the means not to, 3) hunting to provide food for the year is the preferred way. One doesn’t get more “free-range” or “fresh” then putting an arrow in it yourself. I know the fucktards think all hunters are barbarians, and in a way, you are half right. We, as a family, are not special in any way, but we don’t trophy hunt, we don’t hunt just to kill something, we eat everything we kill. In my family we are bow hunters traditionally, a skill very few people still posses these days. But lets get back to the e-mail and how us killing our food is wrong. It’s wrong because this fucktards doesn’t agree with hunting or eating meat. I have never really understood, not that I’ve tried real hard, how a person doesn’t eat meat. I can see not hunting by people because most people are too big of a pussy to end the life of an animal. In fact, most people are too fucking lazy to hunt because their little life has consumed them in such a way that all other means besides the grocery stores seems to be a little out there in their opinion. Is that breeding? Is that the way they were raised? Is it because of where they live? Is it because they are comfortable in how ass backwards they live their life. Yes, I consider those who don’t hunt but bitch about hunting ass backwards. you wouldn’t be here if your ancestors were pussies and didn’t hunt to provide meat for their family, if they didn’t grow other food in the gardens, if they weren’t able to use an ax to chop wood, or if they didn’t have the balls to pull the trigger to defend the people and things they love and cherish. If they were all fucktards like we have today none of us would be here right now,

So what if we hunt. So what if we eat meat. So what that my children are well equipped to provide for themselves and others. So what that you are too fucking stupid to wipe the bullshit from your eyes so you can see that none of my life has diddlely dick to do with your life. The only way our paths cross is that you are too fucking stupid not to click the link to my blog. I challenge all the fucktards not to click my links, to un-friend me, to un-follow me, and to un-like me, and just move the fuck on. We will miss you, don’t get me wrong, but I want to help you onto the road to recovery. the first step is to admit you have a problem. Say it out-loud right now. I (state your full name) am a fucktard. I am addicted to being a fucktard. I can’t stop being a fucktard because (fill in the blank) and I am willing to take the first baby step right now to recovery so that one day when I reproduce I do not have fucktard offspring. Repeat that 100 times, look at yourself in the mirror while you repeat it over and over. After you have admitted you are a fucktard and you do have problems, then, and only then, can we move forward to help you shed the wool of being a contained sheeple. One day, one day you will want to hear the popping sound of your head coming out of your own ass. You will smell like shit but you will be happy once you stop looking thru your bullshit-o-vision glasses. Join us now, my brothers and sisters, let us take one another’s hand to have a moment in silent prayer. Whoops, that’s taking it a bit fucking far, their will be no fucking hand holding here. Now, do you feel better? No? Well, I can explain that to your simple simon little peanut fucked brain. That pain you feel in the back of your neck is your fucktard stupidity trying to get out, just let it out. When you see that little fucktard hit the floor then stomp on that fucker, smash it, grind it into the carpet, the wipe your shoes on your lilly white curtains and move the fuck on. Farewell fucktards, we are taking it all back. So, buckle up fucktards, hold on, shut, and get ready to be rode like the little bitches you  are!

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So, while all of you freaks are enjoying a nice Tofurkey Just known my family will be feasting on a smoked turkey provided my son’s dead accurate shot. I don’t knock the vegans and the vegetarians, they are doing their own thing, which is what we do because that is how we live. Be assured, y’all have your own traditions and we have ours. Yes, they might be different, and yes our opinions may differ about the differences, but in the end, we are all here sharing the bounties of this great planet we live on.