Thursday, April 17, 2014

Thursday

(Even Charles Nelson Reilly thinks I'm a fag.)

Yesterday, the Dragon Lady went to E-mart.  She brought a pizza back to our humble abode.  It tasted great.  I'm a big fan of junk food.  The more calories, the better.  I washed my vittles down with several glasses of Coke.  Sugary soft drinks give me great pleasure.  In fact, I plan to die while sucking on a carbonated beverage.

Our new puppy made a lot of noise.  We're trying to train her to shit on a scented mat.  Sometimes, she manages to do quite well.  However, she left a couple of landmines on our livingroom floor, so I put her in a cage.  I'm just not an animal person.  Life's tough enough with kids.

I watched another episode of Reign.  I know.  You don't have to say a word.  Even Charles Nelson Reilly thinks I'm a fag.  But I can't help myself.  I'm hooked.  Mary has just broken off her engagement with Sebastian, the French king's handsome bastard.  And now her romantic focus has been drawn back toward Francis, the legitimate prince and heir.  Mary really enjoys the company of pretty young men.  She's a pistol.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I refuse to babble like a godless pagan.  Once again, I asked Jesus for the gift of patience.  Trust me.  I could use some peace in my life.  I'm angrier than Judge Judy.

I went to bed at ten p.m.  I had a nightmare about going home in a big yellow school bus.  Strange.  I'm 45-years-old.  But I often dream about my youth.  I don't know why.  My teenage years weren't very eventful.

I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank several cups of coffee.  Then I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break.  There was a terrible ferry accident off the southern coast of Korea.  The boat capsized while carrying high school students to a popular island resort.  Nearly three hundred people--most of whom were teenagers--are now very much dead.

I turned on Fox News.  The Five discussed  the Affordable Healthcare Act yet again.  It's their favorite topic.  I'm not a big fan of Obamacare.  All it does is encourage an incestuous relationship between the government and private business.  Big Insurance and Big Pharma are licking their lips.  They've just been backstopped by the American taxpayer.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Stormbringer by Deep Purple.  God bless. 

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Wednesday

(My retarded son is driving me toward ritual suicide.)

Yesterday, the Dragon Lady worked late.  So I had to make dinner for the family.  I prepared spicy pork and white rice.  The meal was fantastic.  My culinary skills are becoming more and more advanced.  I washed the vittles down with several glasses of Coke.  I'm a maniac when it comes to sugary soft drinks.  I simply can't get enough.

I fear my eldest son James-uh could very well be retarded.  He failed his latest math test with a score of 55 percent.  Talk about disappointing.  Last night, we studied basic algebraic equations together for nearly five hours.  It was a real angry father and son bitch-fest.  On several occasions, I had the urge to snap his neck. 

Why so long?  He has a test today, and the little bastard was woefully unprepared.  He never opens his book.  James-uh is ranked the lowest in his entire class.  His poor grades are filling me with a sense of shame.  If the problems persist, I might be forced to cut my belly open like a war-weary Japanese soldier.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  After all, I'm not some filthy nihilist.  I begged Jesus to grant me the gift of patience.  Stress is killing me.

I went to bed at midnight.  I had a dream about being in a boat with my dead father.  We drove through a narrow bayou going full-throttle.  The bayou eventually led us into the Gulf of Mexico.  After that, we crashed and drowned.  The end.

I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank several cups of coffee.  Then I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break.  The Indiana Pacers are the top seed in the Eastern Conference.  It makes no matter.  The team went flat at the wrong time of year.  Miami will kick Pacer ass once again.

I turned on Fox News.  The Five talked about tax day.  They bemoaned the fact that poor people aren't required to give their money to the federal government.  The rich often demonize those of modest means.  By blaming poverty on laziness rather than greed, they get to sleep better at night.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Roll Me Away by Bob Segar.  God bless.   

Monday, April 14, 2014

Monday

(Manny Pacquiao is still kicking ass at age 35.)

On Saturday night, I sauntered into town and got steaming drunk.  I can't even remember how I arrived home.  I'm assuming that I walked.  I didn't spend a lot of money.  Maybe forty dollars at the most.  I drank the cheapest draft beer on the menu.

That's the problem with me and alcohol.  I  have Keith Moon disease.  Once I start, I refuse to stop.  And my behavior--although never violent--can become a bit outrageous.  My social skills are severely lacking.  I've had my ass kicked several times while intoxicated.  I don't know how to keep my mouth shut.

I woke up at 8 a.m. on Sunday morning.  The Dragon Lady was pissed.  Our humble abode was covered in my vomit.  I was too hungover to clean.  So she went to work with a rag and some soapy water.  That woman is spotless.  You could eat off our floors.

I was too sick to go to church.  I spent the entire day relaxing in bed.  I also downloaded the Manny Pacquiao bout.  Manny beat Tim Bradley quite easily.  But you've got to hand it to Bradley.  He's a tough hombre.  He wasn't hurt on one single occasion.  Manny's just too fast for most guys to handle.

I watched Game of Thrones.  There was a great fight scene featuring The Dog.  He killed five men with his huge sword.  Lots of violence and gore.  That's how Smith prefers his television.  Nice and bloody.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  It's not like I'm some filthy atheist.  

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I had a nightmare about my father.  He was too drunk to drive home from work.  So he spent the night in his truck.  He slept peacefully in the cab.  But I kept tapping on the window to get his attention.

I woke up at six a.m. and drank several cups of coffee.  Then I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break.  Koreans are up in arms about the deaths of two children who were repeatedly beaten by their stepmothers.  The government is being petitioned to strengthen the current child abuse laws.

I turned on Fox News.  Three people were murdered at a Jewish Community Center in Kansas City.  The culprit shouted Heil Hitler before pulling the trigger of his handgun.  The crazy coot is 70-years-old.  Go figure.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Ashes to Ashes by David Bowie.  God bless.       

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Saturday

(My youngest son Bluce might start looking like a hillbilly.)

Yesterday, I ate beef and French fries for dinner.  The meal was good.  I'm a huge fan of starch.  I dipped the fries in A-1 Steak Sauce.  The effect was marvelous.  They tasted both crispy and tangy.  I washed my vittles down with several large glasses of Coke.  Sugary soft drinks make me purr like a kitten.

My cold is clinging to me as if it were a tightly fitting shroud.  I'll be dead soon.  And good riddance.  It's not as if the world loves me, anyway.  No tears shall be shed.  But that's OK.  I could certainly use the sleep.

I crawled into bed and watched The Following.  This particular episode featured many flashbacks.  One of the agents was brought up in the midst of a strange religious cult.  The powers-that-be tried to rape her when she was just a teen.  However, she resisted, and her parents were almost kicked to the curb as a result.  Mom and dad still hold a grudge.  Why?  They lost their standing among the drooling psychopaths.  Being crazy ain't easy.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  It's not like I'm some filthy atheist.  My youngest son Bluce is having some problems with his lower teeth.  They became loose after his recent fall.  I asked Jesus to help him keep his original choppers.  He's far too young to go through life resembling a hillbilly.

I went to bed at 9 p.m.  I brought my notebook and pen to log the carnage.  I had a terrible nightmare about being tied to a large beam of wood.  I was floating face down in a pond.  I suppose the dream means something.  But I'm too stupid to figure it out.

I woke up at 6 a.m.  I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break.  The San Antonio Spurs are the kings of the Western Conference.  Nevertheless, I still think Oklahoma City is the team to beat.  Yet what do I know?  I've got my own fish to fry.

I turned on Fox News.  The federal government is having a conflict with a rancher in Nevada.  Uncle Sam has confiscated his cattle because he wasn't paying his grazing fees.  There are a lot of pissed off cowboys shaking their angry fists at riot police and snipers.  I hope this doesn't turn into another Ruby Ridge.  We all know what FBI stands for:  Fucking Ball-busting Idiots.

Anway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Balls to the Wall by Accept.  God bless.

Friday, April 11, 2014

Friday

(I'm a big fan of Dunkin Donuts.)

Yesterday, the Dragon Lady brought Dunkin Donuts back to our humble abode.  I stuffed my face full of sugary pastry.  Then I washed it all down with several glasses of Coke.  I have a sweet tooth.  Now that I've given up both alcohol and cigarettes, junk food is my only pleasure in life.

I still feel horrible.  My cold refuses to go away.  This illness has kept me in its icy grip for over two weeks.  I fear I shan't survive.  I crawled into bed and watched The Following once again.  In this particular episode, Psycho Joe's twisted acolytes slaughter an elderly suburban couple with garden implements.  I enjoy television violence.  The blood reminds me of how temporary life actually is.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I refuse to babble like a pagan.  My eldest son James-uh is half an idiot.  His teacher just told me that he's in danger of failing 7th grade math.  So I asked Jesus to watch over his silly ass.  The kid is in desperate need of divine protection.

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  However, I completely forgot to log my dreams.  What a bummer.  Remembering my ghastly nightmares is becoming quite an interesting hobby.  I'm gradually learning that I'm a deeply disturbed individual.  Who would have guessed it?

I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank several cups of coffee.  Then I read the morning paper while enjoying a bathroom break.  The Indiana Pacers rested all their starters.  However, they still managed to defeat the Milwaukee Bucks.  Nevertheless, the Pacers seem to be slumping at the wrong time of the year.  I believe Oklahoma City will take the championship.  But I seldom correctly predict this type of stuff.

I turned on Fox News.  The Five spent fifteen minutes badmouthing Muslims.  I completely agree.  Islam is a horrible religion which attracts lots and lots of cave-dwelling knuckle-draggers.  The violence they wreak upon the world is truly disgusting.  Mark my words.  Those towel-headed neanderthals shall be the death of us all.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Uncle John's Band by The Grateful Dead.  God bless.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Thursday

(The Following is pretty good.)

Yesterday, I ate spicy pork and white rice for dinner.  The Dragon Lady had to work late, so I cooked the meal myself.  I'm quite a gifted chef.  The Children of the Rice love my food.  I'm partial to spice.  We washed our vittles down with several glasses of Coke.  Sugary soft drinks make poor old Smith glow with joy.

I'm still feeling quite poor.  This cold will be the death of me.  I relaxed in bed and watched The Following.  The series stars Kevin Bacon as an alcoholic FBI agent named Ryan Hardy.  This unfortunate drunkard is being tortured by a demented serial killer who adores Edgar Allen Poe.  The show is quite bloody.  I enjoy witnessing violent conflict.  Maybe I'm a pig.

I paid homage to Christ.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  It's not like I'm some filthy nihilist.  I asked Jesus to restore my health.  I also asked him to transform my pagan wife into a kind and generous person.  Anything is possible with God.  But this miracle could take decades, so I'm not holding my breath.

I went to sleep at 10 p.m.  I had a nightmare about driving a truck.  I was fired from the job, and subsequently took to trimming hedges.  However, the neighbors weren't happy with my performance and accused me of ripping them off.  Do yourself a favor.  Log your dreams.  The stuff that goes through your head at night is pretty wild.

I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank several cups of coffee.  Then I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break.  A woman in Seoul was arrested for beating her 8-year-old stepdaughter to death.  The victim's older sister also played a part in the crime, helping her twisted mother kick the innocent girl into oblivion.  We live in a fallen world.

I turned on Fox News.  A kid in Pennsylvania went off the deep end.  He stabbed twenty-two of his fellow classmates.  Four of them had to be airlifted to a hospital.  The vice principal is the one who stopped the carnage.  Good for him.  The world is in desperate need of brave men willing to risk their lives for the common good.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Tuesday Afternoon by The Moody Blues.  God bless.

Monday, April 7, 2014

Monday

(Norma Bates is a hottie.)

Yesterday, I walked five miles to church.  The weather was brisk, but I ain't complaining.  I need the exercise.  Poor old Smith is a disgusting fat body with a spare tire and a flabby ass.  I can't remember too much regarding the sermon.  We sing a lot. And all those tunes promote daydreaming.

I took the family to McDonald's.  I consumed a Big Mac and two large orders of French fries.  The Children of the Rice stuffed their faces with McNuggets.  I eat a lot of junk.  I used to be addicted to cigarettes.  Now starch and sugar are my new dope.  I'm looking for a way to mainline bacon grease and freebase pumpkin pie.

I downloaded Bates Motel.  It's an Arts and Entertainment original series.  The actress who plays Norma Bates is extremely hot.  I don't know her name.  But she's definitely a foxy mom.  Norman's first victim is his sexy school teacher.  He uses a large angry blade to send her to the afterlife.  Norman's so screwed up and repressed that he doesn't even realize that he's snuffed a human life.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  It's not like I'm some filthy atheist. I begged Jesus to cure my cold.  I'm dying.  I cough so much that I can't even sleep.  My prayers haven't been answered.  I'm a walking corpse.

I went to bed at midnight.  I dreamed about a childhood project.  I was very nervous.  I had to take the project on the school bus, and my teenage enemies tried to destroy it.  They kept punching it.  I asked them to be nice, but they wouldn't listen.  Bastards.

I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank several cups of coffee.  Then I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break.  The Charlotte Bobcats are having a magical season.  They're a game above five hundred and headed to the playoffs.  Good for them.

I turned on Fox News.  The guy who invented Mozilla got fired for opposing gay marriage.  He's considered a neanderthal by the progressives in his circle.  Sometimes, it's best to keep your mouth shut...especially over small shit.  If two guys want to play house, then what's it to me if the government acknowledges their union?  It's not like the powers-that-be are forcing my pastor to perform the wedding ceremony.

Anyway, let's enjoy the song du jour.  Here's Where Have All the Good Times Gone by Van Halen.  God bless.