The Great Blizzard

Here in the great Pacific Northwest, we have a natural phenomena that occurs once a year, and sometimes even skips a year, just to fuck with us. Newscasters and Portland meteorologists have been trying to track its activity for eons now, but it still perplexes them. What is this natural phenomena? Snow. Fucking white, light, fluffy snow. This shit used to bring joy and excitement to me as a kid. I'd look outside, see that everything is covered, then immediately check the news to see if school is cancelled. It was a great time, I miss those days of utter simplicity.

But now, I'm older, wiser(disputably), and grumpier. The things that used to bring me joy has been tarnished by people with a very weak, if any, backbone. Nowadays, I look outside, see everything covered in snow and say, "fuck me, how many pussies and dipshits am I gonna have to deal with on the road today?" We very rarely get much more than an inch or two, yet so many people act like they've never seen the shit before and react to it as if it were demon jizz or something, if you touch it or drive on it more than 2 miles an hour, it will anally impregnate you and make you poop out little Satan spawns to jizz out more snow and start the cycle all over again. It's snow. Fucking white, light, fluffy snow. It is not, contrary to religious belief, going to kill you, rape your family, or take your sandwich. It might get you wet, though. If you're a gremlin, you might pop out others like you. God help us all if that happens, and that's coming from a non-religious dude. Then again, if you're a gremlin, what the fuck are you doing out in the snow? Nevermind, I'm getting off track here.

And now, to add insult to injury, we have the media. I'll go ahead and use a specific example: Atop Sylvan Hill(one of the highest points here in P-town, give it about 800 feet), a reporter was giving her take on the apocalyptic chaos of water-crystals falling from the sky. There were a few flakes gently falling at a nice, mellow pace. The road couldn't have had more than an inch, which was already slushy from traffic. What did she title this? Snowmageddon. Now what in the holey hands of Jesus makes you think this minute dusting will bring about the end of humanity? Maybe I missed something. Maybe the Four Horsemen just cruised by, hurling snowballs at people. Maybe the cameraman's camera wasn't white balanced correctly and the white snow was actually blood red. Either way, I am not about to give this paranoid half-wit the benefit of the doubt. Please, news people, stop embellishing shit. Especially things that happen a lot, like snow. Fucking white, light, fluffy snow. What do you think the poor bastards in the midwest and east coast are thinking? They have like a million feet of snow, and they're dealing with it accordingly. They see us panicking over an inch, desperately trying to remember how to put the chains on, rushing to Les Schwab for studs, buying all the canned goods and toilet paper from the local store. It's downright embarrassing.

Well, I get it. I do, really. Snow is evil, extremely dangerous no matter how prepared you think you are, and is out to get you. It is probably god sending us a message, being that it snowmageddon and all. Maybe what we're seeing is just the tip of the iceberg, or in this case, the first flake of the final fuckfest. And not the fuckfest that leaves you satisfied, shower up and make a sammich, the kind that leaves you crying and bleeding from orifices you normally wouldn't. Yes, Portland. we are all screwed, and this snow will be the end of us. Fucking white, light, fluffy snow. I hate you all. Stay home, and please, flush your keys down the toilet.

Bicyclists

To all of the Evian drinking, Nature Valley bar eating, ball-suffocating lycra wearing, rearview mirror-on-the-helmet having, anti-car commuting, bicycle riding motherfuckers, this is for you.

The great city of Portland, Oregon is well-known as a bicycle friendly town. Makes sense, navigating through some of the narrow neighborhood streets in a car can be a pain in the ass, having to wait for someone coming in the opposite direction to pass by because two cars won't fit side by side, let alone all of the yuppie hipster dickwads who need to park their overpriced, under equipped SUV(or sport-ute, for all you weirdoes) in the goddamned street instead of their perfectly constructed driveway, but we'll save that rant for another time.

I also understand the other reasons; gas for instance. It's expensive, you can easily spend 300-400 bucks a month, and that's being very conservative. So, riding a bike to and from work or wherever else you guys go keeps a comparable chunk of cash in your bank account. Exercise. If you grunt to get in and out of your vehicle, it may be time to hop on the 'ol manual two-wheeler. If eating gets you out of breath, perhaps a little pedaling would do you some good. God knows there seems to be an exponential number of fatsos stampeding the grounds of America at a disturbing rate.

I suppose I should exclude the group of responsible riders, so to those who read this and get their panties bunched up, saying, "hey, I don't do that stuff, fuck this guy!", disregard and read no farther. The last thing I need is some prissy little piss-pants filling my rant-bubble with tears of anger because they misunderstood my blog, but just in case, fuck you.

Now that all the disclaimers are out of the way, let's get started. You. You ride your little 10-speed with no regard for anybody else. You use the same road I do in my car, yet you believe you have special privileges of not stopping at light controlled intersections or stop signs. You force us to slam our brakes on, letting you by as you throw us the finger like we were at fault. Most of the major roads now have a designated bike lane. It's about 2 feet wide, plenty of space for you to ride in, hell even swerve around in it if you wanted to. Yet, time after time, you find it necessary to ride on the fucking line. Not the outside line closer to the curb, no. You ride on the line closer to motorized traffic. If you wanted to be that close to the road, perhaps you should drive a fucking car. Makes no sense. How about the roads with no bike lane? Stay the fuck off of it. Take a street that's not so busy, or hop on the goddamned sidewalk for a minute. It isn't going to kill you, and the sidewalk police aren't going to confiscate your precious and imprison you. You ride on curved highway stretches in large groups, forcing the drivers to wait behind you until you decide to get the fuck out of the way. We are driving more than 50 mph, and you apparently think that's too fast.

Lycra. Spandex. Moose knucklers. Camel toers, whatever you want to call them. Are you in a race? No. Is the skin-tight apparel going to keep your core temperature down enough to stabilize your energy levels for better endurance? Probably not. But, for your daily commute, you insist on wearing them. Fine. That's your choice. If you really have the nagging urge to "inadvertently" display your nether regions, go for it. You're gonna be the one with superman syndrome, not me. Superman. He flies around, kicking ass, saving babies, and shooting shit with his laser eyes. When they see him, they praise him. When he leaves, they make fun of his tights. So, you show up at work, still in your "cycle gear", and Bob from accounting is like, "hey, buddy. How was the ride? It looks like you've lost more weight." As soon as you leave, Bob let's everybody know that the spandex bandit has arrived, and everybody laughs at your expense.

Well, that about sums things up. Until next time, fuck off, fuck you, and fuck it all.

Vince

Kung Fu fuck you

It's no secret that I study martial arts. I've been at it for over six years now, and frankly I'm good at what I do. I'm not saying I'm Billy Badass or anything, but I am a lot tougher and smarter than your average street thug who relies on the haymaker right hook to end all fights. Every once in awhile some fuckwad (usually a friend of a friend) decides that he needs to test me. I've compiled a short list of the usual "tests" they put me through, followed by the typical results:

1. "What if I did this?"
The most common of douchebag moves. This guy will almost always be throwing a pseudo-backhand from their waistline, attempting to surprise me. This type of thing is most commonly referred to as a sucker punch. OK, let's put a little bit of thought behind this. If you, the backhanding retard, were in the position to do so, I'm not going to just stand there like a fucking weeble -wobble. There's a 99.99 percent chance that I'll be ready, or at least ready enough to see your uncoordinated, powerless chicken wing flail at me like a palsy kid with a temper tantrum. Feel free to swing away, cupcake, but if it's not something that will drop me, you're in trouble. To answer the question of "what if I did this?": well, simply put, I'd hit you back. The only difference is you'll bleed more.

2. "So could you kick (insert famous martial arts movie star here)'s ass?"
Hmmm. let's see...Yes. Yes I could. I say that because the person is either dead, 72 years old, crippled, or found god and doesn't believe in fighting anymore. I'll never meet these fucking people, and the day that I do, I'm not going to challenge the motherfucker to a death match. I'd probably say something like, "hey, I liked you in that one movie".


3. "So are you, like, a black belt?"
No, and because I don't have the elusive item in my possession, it has not yet bestowed upon me the unparalleled power, wisdom, and secrets of all of the kung fu masters of generations before me. Also, because I'm not, like, a black belt, I have no real skill. My movements are meaningless and my strikes are powerless. You have nothing to fear, for I am a mere underbelt. Belts are great for holding pants up, that's about it. Sorry, guys, but you having a black belt will not instill fear to those around you, nor do you emanate that "I'm a bad motherfucker" aura. I can't count the times I've heard about some fuckhead who, while threatening some other fuckhead with that "I'm a black belt" bullshit, getting his ass handed to him. Why do you think legitimate black belts have such a bad rep? They're grouped together with these wannabes who couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag. Why do these schools hand out black belts to any retard who can kick high? Fucked if I know. A lot of these pop-up McDojo's guarantee you a blackbelt within 4 years or less. There's something wrong with that.


4. "I did Tae Kwon Do when I was a kid, my favorite move was the (insert stereotypical jumping 360 roundhouse kick or similar move here)."
That's nice. You studied when you were a kid, and coincidentally your favorite technique was the most elaborate sounding one you could muster up. Good for you. Can you do it now? Doubt it. You couldn't even do it when you were a kid, and now that you're fatter, slower, less agile, and more involved with reading blogs (can you taste the irony?) than your physical fitness, I'd be surprised if you didn't start wheezing from seeing me do it. Nobody cares about your past glory or accomplishments as a kid, it doesn't fucking count. You weren't there because you wanted to be there, it's because your dysfunctional parents didn't want to deal with you when they're that drunk, so they'd send you off to the "babysitter". If you were there by your own decision, you would still be there instead of getting discouraged and quitting the first time someone kicks your ass.


And the list goes on and on....,perhaps later I'll post a part two to this.

The Ducky Blanket Scenario

While I was driving in to work today on a stretch of highway I always take, I had a flashback of the first dead body I have ever seen. Nothing really graphic, but that’s not what even caught my attention. As my friend Joe and I approached the scene, we saw the body on the side of the road, covered up with a blanket. Here’s the kicker: the blanket was not only too small to cover him completely, but it had little duckies all over it. DUCKIES! I mean, what the fuck, it’s bad enough the poor bastard dies, let the meatwagon take care of the rest. So what the fuck were the people with the blanket thinking? It was obviously a kid’s blanket, did they take it from their child? So now you’ve got 2 shitty situations; a bad wreck with one dead body, and a child, who is not only traumatized by the scene, but just got jacked for his favorite blanky. “Suck it up kid, life's full of disappointment.” The little fucker probably didn’t sleep for 3 days after that. Not only because of the wreck and shit, but he was cold! But back to the ducky blanket. So the last thing people will remember the dead guy by, is that he was covered with a ducky blanket. Fucked up. And you know the people didn’t have the heart to say where the blanky came from, so now everybody’s thinking the guy who died owned it. Even more fucked up. Did I mention the guy was a biker of some sort? Yeah, way to fuck up a man’s image. At the man’s wake, people are probably like, “too bad, I mean about the ducky blanket.” Damn, he’s not even able to protect his dignity. That’s bullshit. I understand the people’s point of view for using the blanket, but you could at least think about your actions before you follow through. Yeah, you’re dead. I’m sure you don’t care much. That’s not the point. Even when you die you can’t get any rest, at least your name doesn’t. 20 years can go by, and that ducky blanket will still be in everybody’s memory. Fuck that. If I ever die, and you find me on the side of the road, either bury me or let the birds eat me. Put a ducky blanket on me and I promise I’ll haunt you till your dying days.

So here we go.....

Yup. I finally did it. I made a fucking online diary. Never thought I would, but I finally realized one important thing: People read shit online more than they are willing to listen in person. People don't care. Can't say I blame them. I don't care. Do I really want to hear about how shitty traffic was for you, or how some old lady cut in front of you at the grocery store? If you were driving a tank and decided to take an "alternate route", or if you choke slammed the old lady and kicked her toy poodle out of her purse, maybe. If not, sorry, I'm not interested. Why? Because I'm insensitive? No. Because I'm not willing to sympathize with you? No. It's the simple fact that this shit happens everyday, to people across the globe. Why is your story so much better than the next? It's not. Mine are not. I needed a place to compile my thoughts of today's society as a whole, where you can visit if you want, or stay the fuck out. I don't care. I'm not going to warn you that I'm a vulgar, foul-mouthed motherfucker with not one sensitive bone in my body. I'll let you figure that out on your own.