With exception to those people who have good college degrees and the 3-5 years experience that every fucking employer requires, it’s been real damn hard getting a good full time job recently. The only thing more soul crushing than an endless, dead end job hunt is being offered a dream career and then having it retracted. That’s exactly what happened to me with First Niagara Financial Group (NASDAQ: FNFG) and now you get to read my story.

Swear I’ve spent days of my life surfing on www.indeed.com trying to find my next failed employment venture. Ha, though I’m sure 90% of that time has been on someone else’s dollar while I was a temp somewhere. This particular time of my professional life had found me in between real jobs and waiting tables, kissing people’s asses for just enough money to pay rent and utilities. Most of my food intake was what I could steal or get 50% off from the restaurant I worked at.



To give background:
The first few months of my life after college had been spent at a branch office of American International Group (NYSE: AIG) as a financial advisor. This turned out to be a fucking horrible idea. I earned the retarded cousin’s equivalent to a Series 7 License (a Series 6) and then began a commission only financial sales career cold calling people. I did manage to find a Government affiliated wildlife organization that wanted to invest $3.175 million. At a whopping 1.8% commission that still would have boiled down to over 60k for me, but my dickhead managers drug their feet until the deal was lost. As soon as that opportunity folded so did my short tenure with AIG Financial Advisors. I pursued the more lucrative career path of full time server at Damon’s Bar and Grill.

Skipping Ahead:
On a fateful afternoon I saw a job posting from First Rectal Bead Puller (NASDAQ: FNFG) with an opening for a “Relationship Banker” position. I quickly read the requirements, saw that I met a few of them, and decided to apply. Have you ever applied for a job online and then they want you to itemize each one of you employment experiences? Makes me want to type in “read my fucking resume” for each text box. Well my time was limited that day, so when I did hit the redundant portion of the application I just hit “save & finish later.” No longer than 15 minutes later I received a phone call from First Diarrhea (NASDAQ: FNFG) requesting my time for a phone interview. I accepted and was pretty excited.

As planned the phone interview occurred and went pretty well. I felt I answered every question to the best of my ability while simultaneously making it everything the woman interviewing me wanted to hear. It didn’t take too long until someone was in touch again with another request, this time for a face to face interview. Pre cum was now staining my professional pants.

I showed up in the interview with a suit I should probably replace pretty soon, nice shirt, tie, and a new pair of black kicks. I interviewed with a sales manager rather than the HR person I had been in correspondence with. Psychologists say the best way to be liked by someone is mirror them physically and have things in common with them. When she smiled I smiled. When her arm shifted and was placed on the table, I did the same. When she crossed her legs, I fidgeted because if I did what she did I would have crushed my balls. Ends up this woman went through a very similar experience to me at the beginning of her career. She knew down to the fucking cent how much money she made working a commission only financial sales job. The mask I put on was exactly what this woman wanted to see. I pretended to be an energetic, motivated, confident young professional who had seen more than his fair share of bullshit since leaving college and was ready to make the most out of the opportunity they had to offer. The trap was set, a job offer was eminent.

Over a week ahead of schedule, I received a phone call with a job offer! 36k a year plus commission and bonuses! A spending account, health, life and dental insurance! Paid sick days! Paid holidays! And I’m willing to bet my own fucking office. I made it! After years of waiting for a real job opportunity to present itself I had finally seized the carpe. The only thing standing in between this underachiever and a legit job with First Shit Stain (NASDAQ: FNFG) was a background check…

Back Story:
When my junior year of college was coming to a close I was quite the mess. I put a life of good dieting and a solid gym routine on the back burner for one filled with reckless partying and junk food binges. I had procrastinated on being knowledgeable with material for a few courses and to make matters worse the final exams got pushed up to the last week of class instead of finals week. FUCK!

A period I would begin to refer to as Epic Cram Session 05 began. From Tuesday until early Thursday morning I did not sleep. A case of Red Bull was my only companion. I pounded in as much knowledge (and Red Bull) as possible in order to get the grades necessary to pass. Everything was going fine and the light at the end of the tunnel was visible. Last stop was my 8 A.M. marketing final Friday morning. I took a little cat nap and once I woke up I was good to go to my last final. I had borrowed my friend’s car because he had a parking spot close to school and that beat taking the bus. I turned on the car and threw my book bag in the passenger seat and… that’s all I remember.

I woke up what seemed like a split second later. Some fat man was sitting on my arm and I could feel the room I was in shaking. “What the FUCK is going on!?” I yelled out. A woman behind me put her hands one both sides of my head and said “honey… you’ve been in a car accident, we really need you to calm down.” Alright… that was a complete mind fuck. How do I go from heading to a final to being in an ambulance without witnessing what sounded like pretty bad ass events in between? “Fuck! You serious? God damn it, that’s my friend’s fucking car… JESUS!” No one seemed to acknowledge my blasphemous obscenity filled shouting. I was later informed I was quite the asshole with the EMS crew before I came out of my trance. Also, I knocked down a utility pole right after I got finished totaling two cars with my friend’s beast Trailblazer.

The reporting police officer, along with a neurologist, later agreed that I had seizure. Thanks Red Bull. Once being told that, I concurred as well because in the mirror I could see where each of my teeth went into my tongue. The cop told me “When I came to the car you were mumbling and drooling all over yourself.” I laughed “I’m like that every weekend! LuLz.” He didn’t think I was funny. Then the police officer started drilling me with questions. My head felt like I just did a box of whip its and I was in no mood to talk with a fucking pig.
“Can you tell me anything about the car?” he asked.
Me – “Um… it’s my friend’s and I feel like a dickhead for wrecking it.”
Him – “Anything else?”
Me – “yeah, it’s an SUV.”
Him – “… ANYTHING… ELSE?”
Me – “It’s Black… I don’t know what you want from me dude, I came to in the ambulance, I have no fucking clue what happened.”
Him – “I found a dope pipe in the car.”
Fucking shit! My buddy left his piece in the car. I was genuinely surprised that he found it because I didn’t know it was in there. I was a fucking pot head back then, so I wasn’t blown away with the development that one of my friends had a weed pipe in his car.



To wrap up the back story, I was given a DUI and charged with “use / possession of drug paraphernalia.” I did have a lot of THC in my system when the toxicology report came back and my friend never took responsibility for his “dope pipe.” When I inquired why he didn’t tell the cops it was his pipe he responded with: “you wrecked my fucking car.” … bulletproof argument. The attorney I acquired lumped both of the charges into the Advanced Rehabilitative Disposition (A.R.D.) program and they were to be dismissed / expunged from my record following completion of the program. Life sure is swell.

Back to the future:
Every person in my family knew I had finally gotten a real job, I told all of my friends, my girlfriend and I blew $150 celebrating us getting new jobs at the same time, I quit waiting tables, and I am fucking PUMPED to get my life started. Before I could only look 2 – 4 weeks ahead in my life. With this job offer I saw myself making plans for 5, 10, even 15 years down the road. Shit’s great!

The morning after my night out with the girl I received a phone call. “Jack! Wanted to discuss with you the results of your background check.” The woman went through a few minor charges that I had listed in my employment application so no big deal right? I’m off the hook on those. Then the fucking bomb drops, “…How about ‘Use / Possession of Drug Paraphernalia’.” My past jumped through the phone, fucks my girlfriend, steals my watch, and punches me in the face. I felt there was no point in lying so I fully explained the entire situation to her along with my steadfast claim that the charge should not have shown up on my background check. So even though THAT showed up, the DUI did not. “Well… is that going to change anything?” I asked. “We’ll see,” she says, “I am going to speak with VP of human resources and we’ll get back to you with a decision.” The phone call ended and my heart beat slowed to a trudge. I called the parents and the girl friend to inform them that my dream job was possibly out the window. The call I received two hours later confirmed my worst fears as First Bloody Anal Cavity (NASDAQ: FNFG) retracted their job offer.

What I thought was a rebirth of hopes and dreams of mine ended up being a late term, bloody, partial birth abortion. I was supposed to begin work with them 3 days after I had received the retraction phone call. My fragile spirit was shattered under the weight of yet another disappointing career path turn.

After a few days I was given the chance to dispute the information on my background check. About a month later I received an updated copy of my background check from ADP (NASDAQ: ADP). My new background check had NOTHING on it about the pipe charge. I frantically called First Ass Fuck (NASDAQ: FNFG) with proof that the information they based their adverse decision off of was erroneous to no avail. The head decision maker never returned any of my multiple phone calls. First Butt Sex (NASDAQ: FNFG) and Bloody Vaginal Beltch (NASDAQ: ADP) had double teamed my shallow virgin asshole without a kiss or even a reach around.

The Aftermath:
Labor Day was First Infected Urethra’s (NASDAQ: FNFG) opening operating weekend. None of their newly acquired (bought out) customers had access to their accounts the whole weekend. The branch I was supposed to be stationed at lost an estimated 200 customers alone.



You name the means and First Colonoscopy Bag (NASDAQ: FNFG) has spent an endless river of money shamelessly advertising. “First Niagara, The Bank that Believes in YOU has Arrived.” I find it kind of funny that is one of their slogans and they never even waited to hear if the background check they ran on me wasn’t completely fucked up. Guess they didn’t “believe in me.” Their television ads make me want to fucking puke every time I see them. They’re filled with nothing but ideological bullshit and empty promises. Their ad made specifically for the Pittsburgh region is beyond short bus retarded and filled with the same dishonest bullshit.



To wrap this up, the people of Pittsburgh have already seen through First God Awful Shitty Excuse for a Financial Institution (NASDAQ: FNFG) and have dropped their bank accounts with them. This isn’t the first time a bank has taken over customers from a failed bank. The average customer loss for a takeover like this is calculated between 20 and 30%. First Salad Toss (NASDAQ: FNFG) has lost well beyond 30% of the customers they started with in this region. Any other bank in this area can provide the same services with a better result. So if you invest in or bank with these fucktards be sure to know they’re being absurdly reckless with their business practices concerning this expansion. That and they’re fucking discriminatory douche bags for not hearing out my full side of the fucked up story that prevented me from working with these guys. In retrospect though, they can keep their fucking Relationship Banker job. First Throating Thick Cock (NASDAQ: FNFG) is one ship I won’t be on when it goes down.

~ Jack .45 ~

“IT’S FRIDAY!”

It’s one of the commonly overstated things in an office environment. I get what people are going for when saying it. “Let us begin rejoicing! For Friday is upon us and soon the weekend will be ours to enjoy!” I cannot think of many things that are more annoying than someone who must always say “It’s Friday!” each and every Friday.

Let me detail for you why this simple gesture, though meant to be reassuring and friendly, is something that makes me want to peel my skin off with a small cheese grater:

1) You know why every day of the week sucks so much? Because the days have a conspiracy to take revenge on those who work the Monday – Friday, 9-5. Everyone focuses on “Friday,” and “Friday’s coming,” and “is it Friday yet,” and then finally “IT’S FRIDAY!” No one ever says “IT’S FUCKING MONDAY! WOOO!” NO! Monday is spoken of like it’s a one day, malignant, cancerous tumor on the weekly calendar. Everyone hates Mondays because Monday hates everyone. The rest of the days hate everyone too, just incrementally less as the week progresses.



2) By stating the obvious that the day is indeed Friday you are being condescending to your coworkers in assuming they don’t know what day it is. This can lead to a discomforting office environment. Like… what? I didn’t know that already? Pretty sure everyone wearing jeans for casual Friday is well aware that it’s Friday. Figure 1 explains how I counteract this overused comment with a technique I call Mirrored Awkwardness.



3) Reminding someone that freedom is close will only prolong the arrival of it. Starting the day at 7am with someone in your face going “It’s FRIDAY” would be like having told Nelson Mandela he’s “going to be president soon” after his first year of being in jail.

4) You really… have nothing better… to say. Why don’t you just tell me to fuck myself? Better yet, when I say “Hey! How are you doing today?” you should respond with “Shut the fuck up, TEMP!” Yeah, that’ll put me in my place. Much better than “It’s Friday!”

5) When one takes it upon him or herself to inform the group or an individual that the weekend is within reach, that would normally come along with an invite to or a description of events taking place in the near future. I hate all of my coworkers so why the fuck would I give the slightest shit stain as to what they have plans to do? I don’t. I’m going to enjoy MY weekend, you can get in a fucking car accident for all I care.

The reforms that would have to take place in order to make saying “It’s Friday” an acceptable thing to say are unachievable. Please refrain from telling those around you what day it is when no one has inquired for such information. And with that I will tell all of you to fuck yourselves because it’s Friady. Jack… OUT!

~ Jack .45 ~

Just recently General Stanley McChrystal, commander of the NATO forces in Afghanistan, was stated as saying the US mission in Afghanistan will “likely result in failure” without the substantial addition of more soldiers on the ground. NATO forces have been taking a rougher pounding than a drunk, freshman, cheerleader, not wearing any panties at the Alpha Horney Omega frat house and it’s beginning to fray the patience of the allied nations contributing to the war. It’s just amazing to think that an amalgamation of the world’s most advanced military technology, intelligence, and man power are being overwhelmed by people who hide in caves and fuck goats. With all of the sophisticated weaponry the NATO allies possess, there is one crucial weapon the Taliban, Al Qaeda, and similar extreme Islamic insurgents' hold that we have been lacking all along. Suicide bombers!



As I have mentioned in past articles, we recently have pulled ourselves from the depths of a crippling financial crisis. Though everything seems to be improving, there are some staggering figures from many support groups claiming that calls to suicide hotlines have skyrocketed since the beginning of the recession. Even though the markets are making historic climbs out of the recession trench, there are still millions of Americans at the end of their unemployment benefits with very little hope for their personal finances ever improving. We’ve all seen it! Old guy cleaning bathrooms or checking ID’s at our favorite bars. Women in their 70’s bagging groceries and passing on bingo night so she can pay her past due electric bill. Along with that men have been going postal and taking out their entire family because of the avalanche of social pressure applied when they can’t support themselves let alone a family of four or five. So if you’re reading General McChrystal, I will now detail my comprehensive plan to not only help the overall situation domestically with our suicidal population, but I will have it so our future unstable, PTSD sufferers can return home sooner rather than later. America needs to begin actively recruiting suicide bombers! Besides… when someone’s at the end of their miserable road, there’s no point in talking them out of it. Suicide is the only way out!



The process will start with suicide hotlines. Someone will call in complaining about how much their life sucks and how everything didn’t work out the way they thought it would (funny… probably the ONLY person that’s ever happened to). Instead of feeding these people a bunch of nonsense with how “things will get better” and “life IS worth living,” it will be the call center operator’s job to throw some fuel on the fire. “So what?! You lost your job and your house is getting foreclosed. You’re not the first person that’s ever happened to. Quit being such a pussy about it!” (hang up phone). Or gems like “Oh boo fucking hoo, you lost all your retirement money and you can’t afford to keep your kid in college. HELLO! I work at a fucking call center!” (click!) Once these people start running out of options, suicide will become inevitable. As these phone calls are coming in, prior to further demoralizing those who are suicidal, we get all of their contact information. Once the fire has been lit to really get these people close to killing themselves, we forge goodbye letters and kidnap them!

This will be a perpetuated process because there will never be a scarce level of people wanting to kill themselves. But I say we take 40 or 50 of these people at a time, strap enough explosives to them to level any given mosque 3 or 4 times over, dress them up from head to toe in nauseating American pride jump suits, attach a remote detonator, and presto! America and NATO have finally leveled the playing field for the war on terror in Afghanistan!



Let these guys wander around the desolate Afghanistan frontier and I’m sure the insurgency problem will self medicate. Taliban and Al Qaeda will swarm to behead and humiliate these people who seem to be beaming with American pride only to find out we’ve beaten them at their own cowardly game! Two birds, one fucking stone baby. We took all the pussies already drowning in self hatred, brought them to their inevitable end for the good of our nation, and we take out a bunch of Haji’s at the same time! All the good guys win and the bad guy, dune coons will start thinking twice about fucking with NATO once they’re trying to counter OUR suicide bombers! AMERICA… FUCK YEAH!

It’s no lie the United States Government has been spending money like me when I’m black out drunk at a casino with ATMs that let me overdraw my checking account. We’re finishing up one war while another one has no end in sight. We shelled out 700 billion for the failing banks and financial institutions. Mean while, independent research firms are saying that the stimulus approved earlier this year is going to run up to a total of 3.27 TRILLION! Aside from that, we just threw away 70 some million to put a man made crater in the fucking moon. Even though we have China in a textbook Catch 22 with the amount of debt we continue to build with them, there has come a time when we must look to fund our nation’s absurd spending habit domestically. How? You guessed it! TAXES!

Taxes come in an endless array of forms. Income tax, luxury tax, capital gains tax, sales tax, there’s even a death tax though more commonly known as an “estate tax.” But I digress. As we are in the center of an obesity epidemic, there is growing support to push legislation through to tax unhealthy food. A “fat tax” if you will. So to begin our discussion I would like to start with a video:



Ah. I see your argument off-putting, more than likely single, redhead, mother of two. Pennies ad up, and you need to feed your family! Now that your side of the argument has been stated, allow me to give you my well versed, thoroughly researched, and yet tactful rebuttal:
Shut the fuck up you jagged thunder cunt. Shut your ginger face and go close the trunk of your car you fucking retard. By your logic I should be able to bitch about alcohol tax because I’m dehydrated, or a cigarette tax because I need to breathe. The soda and high sugar/low nutrition juices our government plans on taxing are bad for you. And I'm sure every penny counts from the looks of the well landscaped house you just rolled up to. Google and Wilford Brimley would both agree soda’s bad for you!




So how about instead of complaining about a tax levied on shit you don’t need and that’s bad for you just stop buying it! Spend the money on a recreation center membership, or vegetables, or juices that are actually good for you! Get some water, ice, and sugar and your three quarters of the way towards a pitcher of Coolaide. Don’t think soda’s bad for you? Just take a look at the new Pepsi Logo!



Though I’m not the biggest fan of our government shelling out cash for stupid shit, I’ve been an advocate for years that unhealthy foods need some form of adverse identification. What I had in mind were warning labels of some sort, but a tax is even better! As the country’s waistline has grown almost exponentially the past few decades, the amount of money spent on healthcare for these self induced problems has as well. According to WSJ, in 1998 obesity cost 74 billion dollars!

The problem is this incredibly annoying commercial that attempts to come off as a public service announcement is truly the voice of the majority of America. Everyone’s got their panties twisted that every soda they drink is going towards helping our nation get out of debt (spend more). If you really want to get pissed off at something, go and round up a bunch of fat people and beat on them for skyrocketing the cost of health care. Want lower health policy premiums? Decrease the amount of morbidly obese people siphoning the funds from insurance companies for self perpetuated problems. Besides… (as I already stated earlier, I have a gambling problem) I’m willing to bet that more than 75% of the same people who are flipping their fucking lids to the idea that bad food is going to get taxed voted for Obama. That’s what you get for putting a democrat back in office you uneducated fuck heads. I hope your more expensive soda makes you lose a foot.

~ Jack .45 ~

Unless in the past two years you were Tom Hanks(ed) on a deserted island and your only friend was a bloody volleyball, you should be aware that the global economy hit some very turbulent times. Banks failed, investments plummeted, retirement accounts vanished, and unemployment has hit record highs. Even though the worst recession since the great depression has been painted as an economic apocalypse, there have been numerous winners during the downturn. Namely the executives of insurance and financial behemoths deemed “to big to fail” that… well… failed. Then they got bailed out then they got to keep their 7 figure salaries while the majority of the middle and lower class suffered. AIG got to keep truckin’ along after, as one Rolling Stones columnist put it, “puncturing holes in the fabric of the universe.” But one set of winners that elude the media headlines are staffing agencies.

With unemployment high, job seekers are lowering their expectations from the positions they choose leaving the staffing firms with an almost endless supply of talent to send off to their clients. On the other side of the spectrum are the losers that these firms ship out like packaged meat… the temps. Being a temp in any industry blows. You aren’t offered benefits or paid time off, the hourly rate is barely enough to cover rent, and for the most part, the work can be mastered by a liquored up monkey with Down syndrome. The benefits of organizations that employ temporary contractors are endless! Temps are inexpensive versus hiring full time employees, they’re very expendable, and temps are like a bottomless receptacle for monotonous tasks like number crunching, filing, faxing, scanning, printing, and so on. Tempin’ ain’t easy but it’s necessary. The following is a survival guide for those of you whose careers have been sidetracked into the abysmal temporary status.

First Day:
After all the paperwork and interviews you’re ready for your first day! As the old adage states first impressions are the most important, you must set the tone early. Once you arrive at your place of employment, a supervisor or someone you interviewed with is going to give you a quick tour of your work environment followed by parading you around like a new barn animal to all of the current employees. It is crucial to come off as professional as possible while meeting your new coworkers, but be sure to sow some seeds of uncertainty. For example, when nearing the end of your introductions be sure to make a comment like “I like your hat” to someone who isn’t wearing a hat. This measure will establish you as the weird new guy and keep most from engaging you in mindless small talk. The time you have saved from getting to know your coworkers can now be spent managing your fantasy football team.
Your Diet:
What a temp eats is very important to time management while on someone else’s clock. Nutritionists recommend eating 5 – 6 small meals a day in contrast to the traditional 3 meals. Take advantage of this advice by having food on your desk all the time. It is easier to dismiss an increased workload request when one has food in their possession. An example of this technique is best shown in the motion picture Bad Santa when Billy Bob exclaims “I’m on my FUCKING lunch break!” after being hassled by a woman with her son.

As a final dieting recommendation, eat as much fiber as possible. Fiber One bars will do just great. They taste awesome and they’re good for you. As the fiber intake increases in one’s diet so will that person’s regularity. This is crucial to being a temp because nothing in the world beats getting paid to shit.

Bathroom Etiquette:
Of all the things to do as a temp listed in this article, what you do in the bathroom is of almost commandment importance level. Thou shall not be ashamed of any noises that accompany the expulsion of excrement. You are getting paid to do this, be proud, do it loud! A few grunts help too. When going number 1, never make it so you are pissing next to someone. It is a written rule that if you park yourself directly beside someone at a urinal you are sending the message you want to have sex with them. So chose wisely! Remember this if someone happens to do this to you. Being that he wants to have sex with you the least you can do is look over the divider and check out what he’s packing. Make a compliment to the length or girth of his unit to avoid any awkwardness.

Are you sick and tired of diet and exercise programs that ACTUALLY make you healthier? Tired of being rejected by even the drunkest of dudes as at last call every weekend? Have trouble looking in the mirror at all your fat folds? Are you better at addressing the result rather than finding a solution for the actual problem? Well I have super news for you fatty! Instead of eating healthy or taking a little jog, spend 2 months of a gym membership on one of these ridiculous things!

To start, please go back and re-watch right at 1:03 and notice how the woman on the phone, wearing the apron, at the bakery, is the EXACT same woman and scene from the first 5 Hour Energy commercial.

Next up, there is so much shit that is wrong with this product. I mean, you don’t get chemotherapy to make your cancer cells look friendlier. You go through that in an attempt to send cancer into remission. So rather than defeat fat, let’s just try to make it look better. Instead of joining a gym, go ahead and hit up McDonalds again and you better supersize that order this time! Leave your dieting inhibitions with your self respect because you’re the proud wearer of a Slim n Lift Supreme!

I love the fact that the retards that piece these infomercials together will often have to cast two roles for their time slot. First they’ll get some slender, sexy chick that has absolutely no need for a product like this because she’s been blessed with a good metabolism and I’m willing to bet she hits the gym a few times a week (or she snorts good blow).

Then the next are fat, Opera watching, bonbon gorging women that they take, measure, and slip them into these ridiculous things. These women will be rocking 40+ inch waist lines sometimes! They send them to a changing room, have them slide on a Slim n Fit, and then they’re down to a SLENDER 36 inch waist line and they pretend to feel better about themselves. Not that I hate to break it to anyone willing to drop the money on these absurd things, but even when you’re wearing them, you’re still fat underneath it all.Figure women wear these things to compensate for an obvious obesity problem. They don’t care enough to actually tackle the cause of them being fat fucks like Rosanne, but what remains of their battered ego feels a need to cover up the layers of fat that when looked at correctly from the back resembles a Christmas tree. Worse yet, they have these for guys now too!

What I would really want is for someone in their mid 20’s or 30’s to buy up a bunch of these shams, sport them all the time, take in the compliments from coworkers and friends even though they’re living a lie, and then go out and hit a night life scene wearing this underneath their clothes. I’m assuming anyone willing to purchase this product probably hasn’t gotten laid in a while. How exactly would one go about removing said Slim n Fit if social interactions plus generated attraction, created by the false pretense of a more slender person, if it so came to a sexual encounter? Would that person just let everything flop out at once, or would they excuse themselves to remove it in the bathroom? Fat folds and all just come pouring out like an avalanche of skin resulting from years of sitting at drive throughs and taking the elevator instead of the stairs. Haha.. I don’t care how drunk the other person is, they’ll notice, especially in the 40 inch situations. A “pandunkadunk” has now turned into a “GOD DAMN!” What would the person say? “Oh yeah, by the way, I’m actually fat and I would rather cover it up because I barely respect myself.”


It’s like we never run out of short cuts. It goes like this:
You’re fat? Hit the gym and diet. Can’t? Don’t want to? Okay, well just do one of those things? Still can’t? Hmm… here, take diet pills! Oh, those didn’t work? Fuck it, just wear this thing, it will make you look like you tried.
I think if people are so fucking obsessed with taking shortcuts to get desired results, why don’t they just take the best short cut of all and spare everyone else the bullshit?

I’ll cut right to the chase with this one and say fuck… F-U-C-K… FUCK Jon and Kate Gosselin. If you don’t know who these selfish, self sympathizing fuck wads are, they’re the stars of the retarded show “Jon and Kate Plus 8.” Fuck them. Fuck them in their stupid asses. And fuck each of their eight kids too.

I love America. I’m not in love with America, but when shit like this becomes what defines this country, can anyone blame the fucking terrorist and other people who have nothing but hatred and distain for us? Seriously? I know every country has its fucked up shit (cough! JAPAN!), but when this multi level exploitation becomes a million dollar form of entertainment… I kind of hate America too. I hope these two split, put their kids up for adoption, and all 10 of them end up dying tragically in a fire.

~Jack .45~

I declare myself to be agnostic because I have seen hell in the form of accounts receivable. Being raised catholic, I decided there is no way possible the God I was told exists actually does. How can an all knowing and loving being stand by and watch any of his creations be confined to cubicles while crunching an endless river of numbers? My only conclusion is that there is a God, but he is quite the asshole. He laughed when 9/11 happened, he was baked when he created the gay man who fucked a monkey that introduced AIDS to the world and, out of drunken boredom, he struck down Terry Schiavo just to see what would happen. I know all of this because I worked as a temporary contractor in accounts receivable.
Work begins with the commute. The standard transmission car you drive isn’t cut out for the starts and stops of city traffic. Any small pothole you hit makes your CD player jump so even Jack Johnson can’t calm the nerves beginning to fray with the inevitable 9 hour long despair awaiting. You pull up, pay the asshole parking attendant 1/3 of an hour’s pay to park. “Have a nice day,” you say. Nothing. Your mood sours before you even get to work and your first semi passive aggressive phrase slips past your lips, “Yeah, I hate my life too,” you say as you drive away to find a parking spot. The four minute walk to the building is tarnished by the cold wind blowing in your face. Finally you are inside, a skeleton known as a security official greets you with a “good morning!” You reciprocate the pleasant exchange, yet think to yourself, “FUCK YOU! There’s nothing ‘good’ about this morning.” You catch an elevator with 3 other people, one of which gets off exactly one floor above the lobby instead of taking the stairs. You sigh, hoping it’s loud enough for the person to hear, but they continue on un-phased… besides… they’re not working in accounts receivable. Finally the elevator stops at your floor, as you exit the stranger you shared it with says, “have a nice day,” to which you don’t respond. The place your personality used to be is exchanged with a cold, empty void incapable of generating any thoughts that aren’t depraved and hateful. You walk to your desk. Luckily the manager of the department isn’t there yet, so not only is your 15 minute tardiness not noticed, but an early exit is possible. That is the only satisfaction you will be able to extract from the day before you sit down and begin mindless processing of repetitive, numerical bullshit.

The background you put up to make yourself laugh doesn’t even catch your attention anymore, so to replace it, you put up one that matches your everyday thoughts.

That’s what working in accounts receivable is like.

Fuck that shit.

~Jack .45~

INT: Movie studio head's office. A writer bursts in with the coked up fervor of thirty Quentin Tarantinos, holding a stack of papers noticeably covered in vomit and excrement. Without missing a beat, he locks the door, duct tapes the studio head to his chair, and begins his movie pitch. It goes something like this.

"Okay, security is on its way up, so I haven't got much time. I gotta tell you about an idea I had for the BEST goddamn movie that you'll ever lay your fuckin' eyes on! It would star two of the world's most bankable actors, be directed by a motherfucking GENIUS, and include some of the steamiest and most boner-inducing sex scenes since Don Corleone assfucked that chick with a stick of Land O'Lakes! Do I have your attention now? You bet your fuckin' ass I do!"

"It's a police thriller, that's also a geopolitical melodrama, that's also a romantic comedy, that's also a slapstick laugh riot, and there's even, like, cartoons and shit, like that movie with Doc Brown and that annoying alcoholic bunny who gets to fuck that inexplicably hot firecrotch, even though she totally should've just jumped on Mario's cock at the end!"

Studio Head: You mean, Who Framed Rog-

"Shut the FUCK up, Donny! Just kiddin' bro! Now listen, the two cops will be played by the coolest action stars of our generation: Nicolas Cage and Keanu Reeves! How fuckin' awesome is that shit! The best part--their rookie sidekick will be played by Scrappy Doo! I know dude, I literally shit my pants when I thought that one up! It's perfect!"


"The whole thing will be directed by...wait for it...M. Night fuckin' Shyamalan! Holy shit, right! Like, it'll be this cop drama with, like, a big whodunnit mystery and shit, but then it's got terrorists and they have these big plans, right, and a total mindfuck plot twist at the end where up is down and black isn't racially profiled, and the main terrorist will be played by Shyamalan himself, cuz he's in all of his own movies, and that's pretty badfuckinass!"

I was reading an article about resveratrol the other day(actually a pretty cool looking compound, and yes, I'm a fucking nerd for saying that), and one of its properties really piqued my interest. Apparently, ingestion of this chemical is supposed to increase your life expectancy. My first thought was, "That's pretty bitchin!" followed by, "And the human race is just figuring this out NOW?" I continued reading and learned that this chemical is mostly found in red wine and peanuts, which ironically makes the drunk asshole wino at the bar who's shoving peanuts into his drool covered mouth by the fistfull and randomly grabbing strange women's titties look like the smartest man in the room (even without the resveratrol, he STILL is if you ask me).

Then another factoid took my attention away, of course listed on a nearby advertisement for the chemical: "Increase your life expectancy to 125." And then, sadly, the implications of this wonder drug sprung up their ugly Sarah Jessica Parker-looking faces, and another character from Futurama popped into my head.

Why would someone want to live that long? Do people really think that being a supercentenarian includes anything but:

1. Being too brittle to make it to the bathroom

2. Pooping yourself

3. Forgetting you just pooped yourself within seconds of the act

4. Repeating the cycle every 30 minutes to the indignation of your loved ones

What about every other old person doing this makes you think that you're somehow going to be the bill of health when you're 95? I'm pretty sure that the average human body isn't able to sustain a hundred years of top notch activity no matter how healthy you try to be--unless, of course, you're one of the 0.0001% of society that's built from nothing less than brick shithouses and fueled by the persistence of jesus christ himself. This thought actually brings to mind another image.

That's right, not only are you NOT going to be some lucky, muscle-bound freak of nature, but your decrepit, shit-stained ass is going to be a horrendous burden on the rest of society for the remaining days of your pointlessly drawn out lifespan. I'll leave it up to you to do the quick Google search of exactly how fast the need for social security is increasing every year in this country (I'll save you some time: it's a lot). At this rate, my generation's contribution to social security is akin to handing Bernie Madoff our life savings while simultaneously pulling down our pants and bending over in front of a 6'5'' serial rapist and daring him NOT to pulverize our assholes while we call him a limp-dicked nancy boy. Judging by the current state of things, our money would show more of a return if we invested it into Chinese amputee midget porn (wish I had a pic for that!). Do we really need an extra beneficial health drug to serve to the Baby Boomers, when they already carry around buckets of ginseng and ginko biloba to give them that extra boost to demand the senior discount at Arby's while they're sitting on a mountain of social security booty at home that would make Tony Montana blush?

The very worst part of living for a long time? Everyone you know and love...is fucking dead. It's bad enough that we have to witness our bodies inexplicably shutting down like Windows 95, but when everyone we know starts dropping like black guys in a slasher flick, the whole journey to wormtown seems that much bleaker. I mean, really, the only human beings you're obligated to outlive are your parents. Once they're gone, your kids are grown up, and you finally got your wife to let you donkey punch her a few times, you pretty much have the go ahead to get the fuck out as soon as possible. What else is there? Unfortunately, the only part of life that mirrors The Bucket List is the end--when Morgan Freeman dies (spoiler alert!). Do your grandparents skydive? I didn't think so.

What it boils down to is that we're not built to last forever. Why do women outlive men, even today?--because once upon a time, men were built to go out and wrestle smilodons with their bare fucking hands, that's why. A proto-dudeski would be lucky if he lived long enough to legally drive his first Flintstone car. Back then people probably thought the only body parts that got wrinkled were their scrotums and labia minora (from all that hot, sweaty, nonconsensual cave-fucking). Though I can agree that it's quite a feat that we were able to extend our lifespans to the degree that we have, I think that we took it a little too far. Human beings are like that random dude who shows up at your party and asks if he can borrow one of your CDs, and then leaves the party with ALL of your CDs, your copy of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and your girlfriend.

So, by all means, live a long, healthy, and happy life. I'm just saying that you don't need to be some sort of drug-addled pseudo-vampire with an unnecessarily extended lifespan in order to reach fulfillment. Chances are, by the time you reach 60, you're done doing anything new and exciting with your time, and you merely exist to take shits, waste money on meandering cross-country R.V. trips, and make young people generally uncomfortable. If at that age you're able to look at yourself and realize that there's nowhere to go from here, congratulations, you've just completed the game of life, now put down the resveratrol and fucking die already.

Maybe that's why the Earth wants us off of here so goddamn badly.

-Bizob

There’s something grinding my gears to the breaking point right now and I’m sure many people share my frustrations. Economies have been known to expand and contract. It’s a regular cycle of economics, but when you take an already contracting economy and then blindside it with years upon years of stupidity catching up… shit gets real… MAD REAL. It’s no secret that everything is fucked much more than normal because of cock sucking assholes in the finance field. It happens! Cataclysmic mistakes have been made in the past and I’m sure they’re going to be made again. But giving bonuses to the same fuck heads that got the whole world into this shit storm is not a way to prevent them from happening in the future. It’s how mistakes are forgotten, and then repeated, and it will end us all.
So let’s say you’re a young chap and you do something good. You get rewarded. I can recall getting good grades in my youth and being rewarded for them. Teachers would place golden star stickers on top of “A” grade papers. Mom and Dad up the allowance money for good school performance. So the standards are set at a young age. Do something good = reward. To coincide with that norm, there’s also punishment for misdeeds and below average performance. So why has it become commonplace in financial corporate America to dish out bonuses to the same people that are responsible for fucking everything up?!

To start, I understand that there are many complex things that take place in today’s finance industry. There are a lot of people fresh from college, or even 30 and 40 somethings in the middle of their careers that pull in meager salaries at financial giants working thankless 9-5 jobs. Sorry that you chose that career path, but it doesn’t justify you receiving a bonus. Knowing how bullshit flows, I understand that the little people that comprise the majority of these shitty organizations are not the ones receiving the biggest bonuses. It’s the idiots that started this financial catastrophe that are rewarding their own stupidity with fat bonus checks funded by taxpayers. “But my contract states I get a bonus! (stomps feet and pouts) I’m entitled to bonus money via a legally binding document.” Hey! Fuckheads! People are killing themselves because their hard earned retirement funds are being decimated by falling confidence in our investment system because of YOUUUUUUUUUU. So stop crying about your fucking bonus and quit pointing at the fine print. Do something good, get us out of this fucking mess, and then you’ll get your precious bonus money when it’s funded by your success and not by the people you’re fucking.

Regardless of your gender or sexual orientation, try to picture this scenario. Getting fucked while sucking the same dick at the same time… can’t happen. That’s what these insurance and financial giants are doing to people right now. Because of their decade plus of loose lending standards they have inflated and crashed an otherwise stable and sound financial system. So they’re taking you the tax payer, fucking you, and having you suck the same dick while it’s inside of you. Pretty much sums up getting a bailout and then distributing bonuses.

It’s not like the US is busy making friends all over the world right now. No hiding the fact there’s a shitload of people pissed because of our Middle Eastern deployments. During our Arabic tour, let’s fuck up the world’s financial system while we’re at it so the veterans of these increasingly ambiguous struggles return home to perpetual joblessness. THEN… here’s the kicker.. THEN, we’re going to demand bonuses for fucking everything up. Congratulations assholes! You are now in textbooks explaining why it’s a bad idea to keep 35-1 debt to asset ratios. Take any retard, give them one Oreo, then ask that same retard if you can borrow 35 Oreos. Even that retard knows that it’s a fucking retarded idea. You CEO’s can take your elitist lifestyle and shove it up your ass. Look at the mess you made!