All work and no play...

makes Nick nuke the USA.

Don’t let that happen to you.

What’s that? You said you didn’t know the Jew was hacking your video game software? Did you hire one at PlayStation? Five dollars says he injected a code you don’t know about.

In any case, you are responsible for the experience your games provide, and if that Jew is fucking with your product, you are liable for what they are doing. That is all the more reason why you should be more intent on exposing those sacks of vile, treacherous snake shit and putting them to the question with hot irons and steel pokers until they confess to everything they did, and then set them aflame on a pyre of wood and enjoy the singing screams of their suffering.

If you fail to do that, I am going to do that to you, and then do that to them when I scour through your remains, records, and files. I will find them where you failed, and then I will give them an agonizing death and take all of their money and all of your money when I am done. I will live happily ever after enjoying the eternal memory I have of your screams as you died, because that’s the kind of thing that will make me smile after all the joy was taken out of the world.

Shiiiiiirrreee! Kiiiing Dummmmmppp!!!!

Send Ivan’s Black Riders. They’re time has finally come.

Let me tell you a story of one time I vacationed to Japan.

I packed a bag, flew to Japan as a passenger on the open seat of a military plane doing something that was none of my business, and when they landed I took a train to I didn’t care where. I just went. What city? Idk. Where am I? I don’t remember. What hotel did the travel plan I gave say? Doesn’t matter anymore.

Well, eventually after getting some sidelong glances from night traffic metro riders going about their humble everyday lives, I decided to get off at a stop that I thought had a fair amount of neon to guide my way. I’d recognize a hotel eventually, but that wasn’t important at the moment. First thing I had in mind was a frosty beverage to wet my whistle and quench my thirst.

There was one close by, karaoki bar no less. A classy, casual establishment for a handful of patrons at a time, not really suited for large crowds, but a humble good place for drinking and singing. There were maybe like eight or nine places at the bar and maybe a small table. Perfect spot for a drink if I do say so myself. No frills or frivolities; and all I could have wanted.

We were having a good time, the bar folks and myself, drinkin’, smokin’, and being easy. Then my turn came up on the mic and I sang Friends in Low Places by Garth Brooks. When I was done, one of the guys asked me, “What does that mean, ‘low places’?” I shrugged and said, “I don’t know, like this place here.”

What that means for those of you who aren’t going to be satisfied until you puzzle that out on your own, is that even though I may not belong in the Emperor’s bar lounge when I go party, or with lord of the tower at his penthouse bar with all them suits and fancy dresses, and even though they may turn their noses up at a ruffian like myself, that don’t mean that I can’t find good company down in the real world where most of us live our lives and get by doing the best we can.

That’s what that means. If you don’t know that you oughta dress up, tie your hair, groom your face, and be on your best behavior when you are visiting the sky palace from the world below, you probably are going to get your head chopped off before the night is over. Normally that’s not a problem, but people like me are loathe to go through the rigors of putting on airs for them fancy types. We hate dressing up, talking proper, and going through their high society formalities. That’s why they practically have to force me to attend their parties, drag me kicking and screaming, and pay for everything that I stay poor to prevent having the occasion to wear.

That doesn’t mean we don’t do it, but it is not something we enjoy, and we typically avoid it. It’s hard to have any fun all stuffed up in stupid like those rich folks are. That’s why I stick around the lower places of life where we are on the earth, tilling the ground, moving the boxes, stacking the bricks, planting the rice, and drinking the beer.

When I’m having fun, other people are having fun with me, because if they are not, then I’m not having as much fun as I would like. So, even if you don’t know anyone, but all of sudden some happy go lucky boy-o walks on up to you grinning like your best friend when he sees you scowling in a corner with a dark cloud and tries to cheer you up, don’t think it’s weird. You’re in good company, and you can relax a bit more.

We were all having a good time that night, but I just wanted to share that story for the benefit of everyone else who didn’t have the benefit of being there. The way I find good company wherever my friends are, so too will you if you wander in to some random bar in America that is off the beaten path that the locals frequent.

Can’t attend one of them tie-wearin’ suit parties when I don’t own no suit now can I? That’s how you make it through life without being known by them gorilla brutes who think appearances are everything, and that’s how you keep them from cramping your style. However, in times like now, they seem to think I’m cramping their style and are being all gorilla brute about it too. When that happens, all you gotta do is bop them with a good old-fashioned God-punch to put them in their place and remind them who’s who in the zoo. After that, things should be back to normal again.

I’m gonna look good no matter what I’m doing or where.

I see what the body worshippers are doing, and then do anything else. When there is nothing else to do, I make something new for myself. That ends up getting me to the very top of the dango thingo and work my way back down with new stuff added to the dango thingo every step of the way until it happens all over again from the ground floor bottom line where the man Jeebus is stuck forever like a stick in the mud marking the spot of “eternally boring beyond this point”.