Women, right? …I could probably just end the article right there. Every penis-having reader sifting through Gigglestorm articles and stumbling on that sentence can probably picture at least 30 scenarios, just off the top of his head, wherein he had to sit back, sigh to himself, and take in whatever nonsense was coming at him from his girlfriend’s mouth with the knowledge that anything said in response carries about as much weight as a hot air balloon filled with a pile of bunny turds. But we oblige you, ladies, because you have a great set of tits. And personality or something. And we understand that having more than 3 emotions is probably like having a circus in your head, possibly unfolding in front of a Lilith Fair rock concert. We get it. Okay, we don’t, but bear with me here. We’re mostly empathetic to your struggle. It’s like, hey, if I had to shove a crying, slime-covered baby and, 5 seconds later, something that looks like a mutated manta ray out of the hole that bleeds CONSTANTLY and that a bunch of drunk assholes keep trying to stick things inside of, well, then I’d be pretty moody too if my boyfriend neglected to say “I love you” at least 600 times a day. To wrap this awkward introduction up before my girlfriend, maybe having one day actually taken interest in Gigglestorm and reading this far down in this article, decides that my nutsack looks like a good stress ball, I want to explain that we know that you girls can do shit that we couldn’t even fathom having crossed someone’s mind, let alone having been manifested in reality, and we give you all kinds of (thankless) leeway to keep the peace. With all that, the one thing I just can’t accept, but, sadly, probably will give in to someday, is your burning desire to spend heaps upon heaps of money on bullshit that will only last one day just so you have another excuse to take up the spotlight—you know, a wedding.

I get it that it’s nice to be the center of attention. Who doesn’t like that? Okay, maybe people with deformities. But otherwise, human beings tend to get off on people fawning over them like Lindsay Lohan…before the coke. Okay, so maybe there never was “before the coke,” but you know what I’m saying. You know what’s a cheaper alternative for getting undeserved attention? Buying a golden retriever. You may have to clean up piss and shit on the reg, and drop a C-note a month on feed bags of under-processed and over-marketed gravy-covered meat scraps, but if you do the math the dog is the much cheaper alternative. Plus the atmosphere of a wedding reception can be reached with a case of Yuengling, a deck of cards, and everyone deciding to parade around in the most uncomfortable clothes they can find in their closet. This route is way cheaper.

So how much do weddings cost? Too much! Har har. But seriously, these things can cost up to the price of a car, and that’s even for one thrown by a couple of middle class high school teachers. Think about that. You purchase a car. This is a giant pile of computer-aided machinery, created via nothing short of decades of research and development, chock full of the latest and greatest gadgets to keep your mind off of driving when you should really be paying attention to the road. This baby will last you at least 10 years, 5 if you’re a real piece of shit and only the newest model of car will get you hard while you hide in the hallway closet fapping to your daughter’s friend because, goddamn, she wears the SHIT out of those pink overalls with Dora the Explorer on them. Automobiles will take you anywhere you can dream, you know, as long as it’s not across a body of water or something. Or in New Jersey. Never go there.

This is what driving through New Jersey feels like.

A car is something solid, something long-lasting, something tangible that has benefits that outweigh the costs and maybe gets you a complimentary beej from that hooker with the suspicious protuberance on her throat. You know, something that will provide for you longer than a fucking 10 hour period. Weddings, not so much.

Let’s look at the numbers. Wedding dresses cost, on average, about a thousand dollars. That’s ten one hundred dollar bills. That’s like 5 good 8 balls, or a really fun trip to Niagara Falls where you blow most of your money the first night at Casino Niagara and piss your pants after you black out, which ultimately kills your cell phone because it was directly in front of the spillway somewhere in your side pocket. And that’s just the dress. A dress that is only worn ONCE, I might add. Think about the other bullshit that comes with a wedding ceremony. First and foremost, you have to come to terms with the fact that you’re either A) an agnostic who knows better than to waste his time with going to fucking church but has to get married in one because, Jesus Christ, that fucking generation that believes in that hocus pocus is still breathing and chances are 50% of your closest relatives are Koolaid drinkers, or B) you’re just a bad Catholic. Either way, somebody’s gonna be bribing that priest, because Lord knows those assholes won’t play ball unless you’ve paid your dues each week. So, lump sum or half-assed attendance complete with weekly God bribes, you’re paying the Catholic church its cut of the spoils.

There’s Muhammad. I just showed a picture of him. Look at him sitting there, drinking his forty, and probably rolling up the marijuana to smoke it like a cigarette or something. Muhammad is a fucking faggot. And I don’t mean he’s gay, although he does take it in the ass on the regular from Jesus. I mean he’s a faggot—like how you don’t call retards retarded. Your god has a smaller dick that my (lack of) God. And yeah, I didn’t capitalize your god because he’s such a pussy. Guy doesn’t even know how to properly lead a group of people, obviously. If he did, they wouldn’t be decrying Western culture while re-loading the fucking RPGs that were given to them decades ago by the United States. They wouldn’t be watching Al-Jazeera on a television that was made in China, bankrolled by one of the “Westernized” countries. They’d shit or fucking get off the pot. But no, these fuckin’ Trig Palins are banding together to jerk each other off and blow up people who don’t agree with them. Real fucking mature, fellas. I bet you don’t even have the common courtesy to give the dude in front of you right now a reach around. No, take your time. I’ll wait.

See? You just came and put your clothes on. My point is valid. And if, by the grace of Cthulhu, an actual Muslim reads this and goes, “Hey, don’t lump me in with those assholes, I pay my taxes like any other person,” I apologize, but this declaration is obviously not meant for you. If you woke up today, prayed to Mecca, and DIDN’T think once or twice about maybe blowing yourself up in a crowd of Zionist-enablers, you’re probably in good shape. Or maybe you manually got rid of your morning wood and you’re taking a day off to enjoy it. Either way, everyone knows that radical Muslims are just a bunch of limp-wristed cry babies who get angry when everyone else is fucking with them, even though they wouldn’t know what to do with their time if nobody paid attention to them ever again. They’re the equivalent of when human political cartoon Bill O’Reilly is losing an argument and decides that YELLING IS THE BEST WAY TO GET THE UPPER HAND!

So there, fuck yourself. What are you gonna do, kill me? Come find me. Here, I’ll attach a pic of my house:


There. I’m the hut out by the mountains over there. Just look for the sand. Now come get me, faggots. I’ll even go willingly. I’m at the point with my job that Edward Norton was at in Fight Club before he went full retard and started beating the shit out of himself in front of dive bars. I’ve literally fantasized about mid-air collisions while traveling just so I didn’t have to go into the office on Monday. I welcome any attempts on my life.

Hmm…while I was writing that, I think I just found a way to get back at you fucking finger sniffers. We have tons of Emo/Goth turds just waiting in the wings for life’s “Willy Wonka-like, corporate-driven shit ride to kick them to the curb like an unwanted prom night baby” or whatever their poems say that they scratch into their undertits. Let’s round these ledge jumpers up and strap explosives to THEM, and then send them into al-Queera bases to shut their shit down. We have suicidal and batshit crazy citizens, too, Middle East. Just picture it, a slew of Edward Scissorhands-looking freaks marching into a town with everyone running away in terror—just like the Thriller video. Or, like with any other task that requires more than 5 seconds of actual work, maybe we’ll just get our kids to do it.

So what can we really do? Nothing. The terrorists have won. Sadly, this didn’t manifest itself as Americans bowing down to the prophet Muhammad (who, by the way, is a real fuckin’ blood belching vagina of a fanny bandit bullshit artist), but as South Park, our last bastion of complete and utter free speech in America, acquiescing to threats from some website probably run by a bunch of guys who still wipe shit out of their ass cracks with their bare hands. I dunno, I guess we can shop at Wal-mart more. Those motherfuckers hate that.

Until next time, when I complain at length about the airline industry, Six-Sigma projects, and shitty Wisconsin drivers.

-Bizob

P.S. Yeah, it took me a month to post this after writing it. And yeah, I’m also aware that Jon Stewart said something similar on the Daily Show. I wrote this before that. Don’t believe me? Go fuck yourselves, too.

If you’re like me then you enjoy the rush of preventing premature ejaculation with thoughts of comparing the person you’re currently inside of to your own mother. AH yes, there is nothing quite as thrilling than thrusting your throbbing Tom Jones within a person twice your age at the end of a successful cougar hunt. While the cougar population varies in scarcity and elusiveness depending on what trashy, hipster night club you’re in, there are many different varieties of cougar and each comes with a specific set of rules to follow in order to hunt effectively.

The Basics:
Unlike regular hooking up with women of the similar age range as yourself, cougar hunting is best accomplished solo. Not to say you can’t fly within a squadron of wingmen, but the primary attack must be skillfully executed once you have broken away from the main group. A single wingman is permitted when breaking up a gaggle of cougars, but once the hunt has officially started, the only way to fill your tag is to go it alone.

The small talk required to shatter the ice during a cougar hunt has to be a meticulous combination of tactless humor mixed in with an intellectually driven conversation.

Example:
“While I support upholding the integrity of the TRIPS agreement protecting intellectual property rights concerning the creation of generic AIDS medication in poor regions, I think the role religion plays in preventing the spread of HIV is close minded and deplorable…. But who gives a fuck about Cleveland right?!”

Continue to run this kind of game over and over with whatever direction she takes the conversation.

When it comes to sealing the deal, most cougars will have reservations about fucking someone younger than their offspring. To alleviate this preconceived notion that what they are about to do is incredibly wrong it’s important to use this line or a variation of it:
“Listen, I’m not out to judge anyone. You probably gave the whole commitment thing a try and it didn’t work out according to plan. Why feel bad about exploring your sexuality with someone younger when you’re just out to enjoy yourself? So you just lay back and do whatever feels good.”

Most cougars are menopausal or close to it, so it’s important to pack some lube since the water company shut off that part of their plumbing a LONG time ago. While impregnating a cougar is anyone’s worst nightmare, it more than likely won’t happen. Don’t let that deter you from putting a rain coat on your Johnson because cougars are the main reason the average STD contraction age has increased over the past 20 years.


Types of cougars:

The Married, Mother of Two, Hard Working, Office, Cougar:
Her kids are nearly self sufficient and being a mom to them is about as thrilling as playing a game of Monopoly from start to finish. Her husband forgot she has any sexual needs and even if he was aware he’d still prefer tinkering around the house and enjoying Sunday afternoon NFL instead. The only reason she excels professionally is to fill the void created by her sexual hunger. Exploit this by placing dependence on her to assist your climb up the corporate ladder. Everyone has sex-at-work fantasies so wait until office afterhours on a weeknight. Pay retribution by fucking her hard from behind while she clings to the copy machine with one leg up on the stack of paper boxes.

The Divorced, Athletic, Mother of a College Aged Child, Cougar:
Best picked up while enjoying a happy hour cocktail when she’s alone. Ask her what she’s drinking and then buy her another round and get the same exact drink for yourself. Presto! You have something in common. Start the conversation off by asking her what accomplishments she takes the most pride in. Once playful nudging and leg touching ensues, seal the deal and plow her on every piece of furniture in the hotel room or your apartment. You won’t get an invite back to her place because “it’s a disaster.” So either scoop up a hotel room to make her feel like a free spirited skank having a one night stand or take her back to your one bedroom apartment so she can relive the thrill of a college era hookup with a casual fuck buddy. This cougar would be best to have a long running casual relationship with because she gets off on spending her alimony buying you drinks and expensive sushi dinners.

The Club Hopping, Childless, Divorced, Cougar:
This cougar is the one with the STD’s and wrinkled skin from smoking and alcoholism. She made plenty of mistakes in her life up to this point so fucking someone who was in diapers when she was 27 is not considered a taboo in her book. The years of menthol cigarettes and grain alcohol binges have destroyed her taste buds so she won’t mind swallowing some DNA out of a latex flavored lap rocket. In fact she’ll probably suggest sucking your dick while her ankles are still on your shoulders and your pee hole is penetrating past her cervix.

The Supermarket Cougar:
Multiple times a week you’ll find this cougar at the grocery store because she appreciates her cooked meals to be fresh. Just like her meals, she likes her dick fresh and the younger is always the better. This most likely will be the less aged of the cougar species and most definitely comes with the potential for clinginess. Fill your cart with the same food items as she does so that your “incidental” bump-in at the end of your shopping trip yields you with common interests to talk about. The next move is to tell her what you are going to cook with the items you selected and when she is surprised that your making her favorite dish suggest that you two cook together some Friday evening. Not long after cooking and eating she’ll be shouting “DADDY!” at the top of her lungs as you fuck her sideways on her couch. The best part is her dad died when she was a teenager.

The Never Married, Childless, Hot, STD Free, Party Animal Cougar:
This is the snow leopard of cougars. Rarely seen and even rarer are the opportunities to hook up with this cougar. She’s always game to suck down a joint while playing some beer pong. This type of cougar never left college in her mind and holds onto her youth by partaking in social binge drinking and random flings with younger guys. Along with being a near A&F model, you must be passive in order to hook up with this cougar because she MUST be the one in control. Once you get back to her lair, she’ll disappear for a few minutes to put on a school girl outfit including pigtails and thigh high white stockings. Utilize her hair like handlebars while you’re parking the unsheathed beef bus in tuna town. That little slip you just had was no accident. Yes, while you were pounding away from behind she moved her pelvis enough so you are now inside of her turd cutter. While she’ll never openly admit it, she likes tasting her shit on your dick when she’s sucking after having requested you to blow your man boogers all over her face. YEAH! Who’s a dirty girl?

There you have it. Just remember the tag limit for cougars is infinite so you never have to worry about the hookup game commission fining you for exceeding your legal limit.

~ Jack .45 ~

One thing that has plowed its way to public enemy #1 on nutritionists’ list is Trans Fat. Trans fat (a type of unsaturated fat containing tran-isomer fatty acids) comes in a few variations. Consuming the bad type of this fat is equivalent to fastening a belt around your arm, tapping a big pulsating vein to the surface, and injecting yourself with kerosene while simultaneously performing reverse liposuction. Worst part? You inadvertently gobble much more of this shit than you realize.


To begin, not all Trans fat is created equal as it does come in the good form of CLA. CLA (conjugated linoleic acid) is a Trans fat that occurs naturally in meat and dairy products that has actually been mimicked in dietary supplements to assist in weight loss. CLA also has anti-inflammatory properties. Ugly Trans fat is that which is partially hydrogenated. The hydrogenating process takes regular fat, turns it into a margarine like solid and increases the temperature at which it melts thus making it ideal for types of baking, increasing the shelf life of certain food products, and obtaining a handicap parking permit because of debilitating obesity.


This process was developed and implemented in the early 1900’s to satisfy the increasing demand for butter. It wasn’t until 1988 that medical publications began fingering (teehee… FINGERING!) Trans fat as a culprit in the rise of coronary artery disease and obesity. As with most things bad for you, Trans fat does its damage too slowly to prompt a nationwide condemnation similar to tobacco, alcohol, or other such consumer products. On an extended time line, the use of partially hydrogenated oils in food products is about as harmful as adding melamine to milk to boost its protein content. I’ll allow you to look up exactly what melamine is intended for, but the people responsible for adding it to pet food and baby formula to increase the apparent protein content have been sentenced to death. Oh China!

The matter at hand is addressing how / why you eat more of this disgusting, gluttonous fat ignorantly. It is because the FDA, in their all-knowing glory I might add, has set the standard that anything containing less than or equal to 0.5 grams of Trans fat per serving is permitted to go unreported on food item’s nutritional facts. So not only do companies get the fucked up privilege of not reporting that their product contains Trans fat, albeit trace amounts per serving, they even get to boast that their product contains “ZERO GRAMS TRANS FAT.” That would be like a construction company saying what they build doesn’t contain asbestos even though 0.5 % of the material they use contains asbestos. In asbestos' defense, mesothelioma is a pretty fucking sexy form of cancer.

When a person smokes, drinks, or does drugs, not only are they fucking awesome, but they are deliberately and willingly destroying their bodies. The way partially hydrogenated oil is not reported, fat people are getting fatter without even realizing it! Here is a list of products that contains Trans fat, while not reporting it:


And fucking look at that shit! The biggest kicker is that Fiber Plus Antioxidant bullshit. Anti… fucking… oxidants are things that neutralize free radicals to reduce oxidative damage to cells in your body. Simply put, antioxidants actively reduce your risk of cancer. But those fucking bars have trans fat in them… an oxidant. The dumb fucks at Quaker Oats must not have put two and two together. Unfortunately that’s just the very tip of the iceberg. There’s a shitload of other things you probably use every day that have that nasty ass shit inside.

So there you fucking have it. I know this piece was slightly more informative than funny, but do yourself and everyone else a favor and read the ingredients before you buy. If not, you’ll end up like most of the people working at BNY Mellon in Pittsburgh.

HEY THERE new crew member! Hello and welcome to Damon’s Grill! I bet you’re excited to be a part of the staff here now! Boy I love it here, my name’s Jack and I’ll be training you today! Are you as pumped as I am? Let me tell you a little about myself! I have a four year college degree I spent five years to get and if I had a fire arm at home I’d probably kill myself after getting fucked in the ass by shit eating customers that don’t know how to tip. But we’ll save your customer training for another day, right now I’m going to familiarize you with what you can expect from your coworkers!


First off here is one of our hostesses. Hey Brittany! This is our new hire. Brittany is awesome! I love coming up here and bullshitting with her. She always tries to seat hot chicks in my section too. Another cool thing about Brittany is she just found out she was pregnant! Sure she’s cut back on weed smoking and drinking caffeine, but if you’re a cigarette smoker, you can count on her being in the smoker's lounge sucking down some cancer sticks. I mean, it’s cool, besides, if she quit now the nicotine withdrawal would have negative effects on her unborn baby… how much longer you have there? Eight months? Yeah, better keep smoking! Don’t want to stress out the baby too much!


Here’s our general manager Danica enjoying one of our signature steak house burgers. Don’t be fooled by her pleasant demeanor, she’s a raging cunt. See, she’s pushing 35, lives with her dad, and managed to pump out a kid a few years back that she conceived with our former kitchen manager. Just wait until we get busy some weekend night and you’ll see how wildly demanding and irrational she becomes. Best part is she doesn’t really do much work at all herself.


Hi Jeena! This here is our new employee! He’s thrilled to be working with us. Let me tell you a little bit about Jeena. She’s 38, has high blood pressure, can’t afford health insurance, supporting two kids and her dead beat, unemployed, alcoholic husband. It angers me how happy she can be some days. Just on Tuesday when I got turned down from the job I really wanted I was like “WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SMILING BITCH?!” The biggest thrill she gets out of working here is talking with regular customers and chasing after the elusive assistant manager position. She’ll end up dying in a few years from a heart attack mainly brought on by consuming the food from this dump on a regular basis. This will ironically happen shortly after she saves up enough money to finally get gastric bypass.


And here we have Tim and Ashley! How you doing today guys?! AWESOME! Those two will annoy the living fuck out of you. You will never see them apart even if they’re waiting tables in separate areas of the restaurant. Tim is insanely jealous of any male interaction Ashley has with anyone besides himself or her father. So do yourself a solid and never talk to Ashley unless Tim’s around and you’re addressing both of them. Our idiot manager Jim actually had to send Tim home early a few weeks ago because he almost started a fight with customers that were hitting on Ashley. Yeah, they never leave their relationship drama at home. They fight here, break up here, make up here… it’s a fucking blast I tell ya!


Okay, and back here is where you’ll bring all dirty glasses and dishes. Hey Dennis! How are you doing?! SUPER! This is Dennis, he’s our fucking crazy dishwasher. If you don’t want to get wrapped up in a conversation about how the galaxy is similar to his dish room… just avoid all eye contact and any openings for conversations. He’s pretty harmless, but he does throw shit around and make a ton of noise when we get really slammed. You have to have a lot of respect for the guy though. I mean… HE WASHES DISHES FOR A LIVING. If I were in his shoes, I would take the whole restaurant hostage with a 12 gauge, and when my audience was at its peak, I would blow my brains out in front of everyone.


And now we’re in the kitchen. What up guys?! They don’t talk much… the kitchen staff is pretty clicky, but they’re an awesome bunch of dudes. You get high? It’s cool… I do… everyone does! Everyone that works here is either on drugs or sells drugs. If you need a dime bag, some coke, fuck, even some heroin… the kitchen is your one stop shop. Just go back and slang Dan there a 10 and say ‘green’, ‘snow’, or ‘Andy Dick’ and he’ll hook you up! Being they sell good drugs at discount makes up for the fact they suck at their job. So expect to lose about 50 bucks in tips each week from pissed off patrons sending back poorly prepared food these retards ship out.


Let’s go back out to the restaurant area and into the bar. LOOK WHO IT IS! Normally these two work separately because together it’s just too much doucheyness. Mike and Lindsay! Mike… Lindsay meet our new employee, new guy, this is Mike the douche bag bartender while Lindsay is an insufferable cunt bartender. You think these guys would be happy, what making minimum wage and dwarfing everyone else in tips, but that’s not the case. They’re big fucking kykes too. If you don’t tip them out more than you owe them at the end of the night for drink orders don’t expect to be serving alcohol in a timely fashion to your tables the rest of the time you’re here.


And you know what, I’m going cut out and have a cigarette and who knows… maybe rip a pipe to my dome while I’m in the back. You go ahead and hit on the sluts Jess and Stacey. Oh, and later, after we close up we’re gonna go out and get all kinds of fucked up! Welcome aboard!



~ Jack .45 ~

First and foremost, many congrats to the New Orleans Saints on their victory over the Colts and that team’s career commercial actor who does quarterbacking on the side. With the exception of the Saints overcoming a 10 point deficit early, this Super Bowl lacked the nail biting, heart attack inducing excitement of the last two. Nowadays some people are more excited for the Super Bowl commercials than the game itself. Unfortunately though, a very high percentage of these outrageously expensive 30 second time slots have been the exact opposite of entertaining. For instance, here is what CNN has claimed was THE BEST commercial of this year’s Super Bowl:



Okay... While violence against senior citizens is a real knee slapper, this was the best? Come on! Regardless of the quality of these commercials, these companies are shelling out around 3 million bucks for these time slots. That means for every 30 seconds of Super Bowl ads, companies could employ 83 people for one year with a salary (w/out benefits of course) of 36k.

Now I’m going to tear into every stupid ad I can from this year’s Super Bowl:

First off, Tim Tebo should have been aborted. End of story. If you think Matt Leinart was an NFL let down, just wait until pretty boy Tebo comes into the league and gets murdered on the field. That is if he can even secure a back up spot for the Jaguars. And did you see Tebo’s mom? I would definitely have an abortion with her.

Next up, a comedian once said “there is nothing more disgusting than the sight or sound of someone eating Doritos.” I gagged when watching 2 Girls 1 Cup, but if they were swapping pureed Doritos instead of feces I probably would have thrown up my stomach in similar fashion to how vaginas blow placenta meat bubbles after giving birth. These guys dropped well over 12 million on their multiple ad slots. Doritos = Frito Lay = PepsiCo. Pepsi is a top reason why America is so obese and it is a terrible company. Spend that money on your overworked warehouse employees, not advertising to make America even fatter.

Continuing on, I piss Bud Lite after I drink Miller Lite. I would rather drink an Olympic sized pool filled with asparagus urine before I would drink even half of a Bud Lite. These guys blew their best advertising load a long time ago with the frogs and "WAZAP" and... yeah, that was about it. I view these commercials the same way I would watch an autistic child trying to figure out a 3D magic eye. You want to laugh, but it’s just not funny... it’s retarded.

The census bureau took it upon itself to put together a fucking stupid commercial and waste our tax dollars reminding everyone watching the Super Bowl to get counted. I for one am going to do everything possible to avoid getting counted. The purpose of the census is to distribute appropriate voting power to our representatives in Washington. Our country and our economy are fucking disasters because of those people. They can fuck themselves.

Even though our web domain is registered through GoDaddy that doesn’t mean I’m not going to bash them. They are fucking whores. Science has proven any woman named Danica is a cunt and I’m willing to bet Danica Patrick has a big floppy dick.

I know a commercial is retarded when I start drooling on myself while watching it. That was exactly the case for the Boost Mobile ad. They have extended their target market away from poor black people with aspirations of rapping to those with Down syndrome. Just look at this piece of shit:



That commercial makes the Barbie Girl video look like some doctoral candidate's linguistic dissertation.

Monster and Career Builder are the worst of the bunch. While being “career” sites, they are advertising on the Super Bowl to increase their web traffic. A shitty economy = more people looking for jobs, more people looking for jobs = more traffic to these web sites, and more traffic to these web sites = more $ they can charge for grad school’s and other people that buy advertising banners on their sites. So they pretty much advertised to advertise. The last thing either Monster or Career Builder is concerned with is finding people jobs. If you disagree with me put your resume up on both and see how long it takes to get a job.



Well I’m going to wrap up this rant. I’m sure there are a few more commercials worth mentioning, but fuck it. The only things that should be openly accepted as having legitimate commercial exposure during the Super Bowl are movies. Though I’m not excited to go see any of the ones that were previewed this year, people won’t see movies unless they are advertised some way. So movie advertising during Super Bowl is acceptable. Everything else is just trash and the money could be better spent elsewhere.

~ Jack .45 ~

Might as well get this one on the list early. The Raging Cunt is someone (more often than not female, but males are not excluded from taking this role) who has worked at the company since the early part of her career and once having bitched enough, received a management position. This type of manager is normally a smoker or does something self destructive and compulsive, she is hated by more than 90% of the department she presides over, is currently single and has been divorced at least twice, possesses ovaries that aren’t capable of producing eggs but are responsible for a surplus of bitchy woman hormones, and while having quality work skills she is completely incapable of connecting with her subordinates on any level. In order to get desired work results from her underlings the RC will usually call people out in the most embarrassing and infuriating way possible. The desire to accomplish work therefore is achieved by avoiding pain rather than seeking reward. When not insulting people directly The Raging Cunt will normally take part in annoying solo activities such as whistling, talking to herself, singing made up songs which lyrics involve things she just did (“~doot doot doot, save the excel sheet~”), making clicking sounds with her mouth, shouting over top of her cube rather than walking to talk to the person face to face, and complaining about everything she possibly can.

Most Common Phrase: “Is that work related?”
How To Deal: Try to keep off her shit list. If you can’t do that, ignoring this type of manager will normally only make things worse. Your best bet is to face her head on especially when you’re right. If you’re wrong though, forecast is calling for at least a two day long shit storm with potential joblessness accumulation. Be a sarcastic kiss ass to be in her good graces. When there is no longer any concern for your employment situation you can always just do this:




The Rich Pompous Ass Manager is normally someone at the very peak of his or her career. RPAM’s are normally male and work in the financial services industry. He chews his food with his mouth open and breathes heavily through his nose while doing so. He leases top of the line cars that are twice as much a month as your rent and then he complains that parts for repairs take days to ship because they come from overseas. His office has at least two windows normally on walls perpendicular to one another, large framed pictures of cities or college sports complexes, achievement awards associated with how much money he makes, and a desk with a chair that would take you a year’s salary to afford financing for. The RPAM will most likely interview you if you are seeking employment with his company and he will most likely ignore everything you say. The only reason he takes any interest in your professional success is because the deals you land are what fills up this fucker’s gas tank. You won’t figure out how he got to where he is today and he doesn’t remember. Living an average lifestyle is something he repressed after he hit his first six figure year.

Most Common Phrase: “Fuckin’ see the game last night? I was there. Box seats!”
How To Deal: Agree with everything he says while completely ignoring him. You don’t matter to him and he shouldn’t matter to you. Just try not to think too much about how the paycheck he gives you is worth less than the pen he signed it with.

The Cool Manager

Don’t get your hopes up about this one because he or she does not exist. Any person who seeks career advancement would prefer not to fuck it up once it’s obtained. You can take any individual who has the best of every personality trait, give them a management role, and their soul turns into dark viscous dog shit. No matter how cool a manager may seem there’s always a dark passenger lurking in the depths of that person, waiting to pounce and get shitfaced power drunk off of the newly acquired authority. This person will be in their mid 20’s and thrilled with the promotion while viewing it as the catapult into taking their career to the next level. Take him or her out for a beer. To them it will appear as congratulatory. You though should be aware this is their cool side’s funeral. If this person eats a lot of fiber be prepared for the mess when they start shitting all over you.

Most Common Phrase: “Now I’m not trying to sound like a dick/bitch, but this work needs to be done today. Stay late if you have to.”
How To Deal: This mother fucker just got a fun-ectomy. Start looking for a new job.

In cubicle life the glass is always half empty. Work sucks regardless of what you do, but your coworkers make or break how you REALLY feel about the job. A shitty manager will make you look back in anger before you even leave. Myself and my fellow contributors are only just past the starting line of our careers, so you can expect many more updates on this subject in the future.

~ Jack .45 ~

- Scott Peterson -

Going Rogue: Does Sarah Palin Even Know What "Rogue" Means?

Let me begin with the simple statement that I am neither liberal nor conservative, but rather libertarian. Ron Paul was the closest thing to a descent candidate we’ve had in awhile. I’m a big proponent of having the government stay the fuck out of my life. Fuck paying ridiculous taxes, fuck the whole war on drugs, fuck global warming, fuck those pro-life pussies against killing fetuses, and fuck those who continue to waste billions of dollars fighting never ending wars. So essentially all I really want is to live in a society where I can keep most of the money I earn, not have to give a shit about others, while having a great time smoking drinking, pissing, and shitting all over the place.




I’d like to start off with the fact that the title of this book pisses me off more than pompous pricks with Bluetooth head sets that you can’t understand over the phone because these $100+ devices suck and make you look like a douche bag!



Let us begin with the first definition:

Definition 1:
Vagrant or Tramp. : one who has no established residence and wanders idly from place to place without lawful or visible means of support b : one (as a prostitute or drunkard) whose conduct constitutes statutory vagrancy.




From this definition, I imagine Sarah Palin is looking to travel the world fucking dudes in hopes that her 45 year old vagina could pop out a few more retarded children. Speaking of which, there is nothing better than looking at your friends on the weekend and saying “Dude we are going to get Trig Palin tonight!”

Definition 2 and 3:
Dishonest, worthless person, mischievous person, or scamp.

Well she’s obviously a politician so I think this nails her qualities right on her stupid ass glasses wearing head.

Definition 4:
(Interestingly enough) A horse inclined to misbehave.

Definition 5:
(Finally) An individual exhibiting a chance and usually inferior biological variation.

In summation:
Sarah Palin is a dishonest, worthless, tramp, horse inclined to be disobedient while prominently displaying her position at the lower end of the gene pool (An American Life).

Fuck you, you cunt!

- Scott Peterson -

On Christmas Day some dirty, brown god having, religion drunk extremist tried and failed to blow up an airplane just before it landed in Detroit. While I am able to understand the flurry of news reports and security proficiency reviews that followed, I have noticed there is something that EVERYONE is neglecting to do in the wake of this attempted terrorist attack: Make fun of the fucking idiot(s) who epically failed in this botched attempt to blow up a plane over a city no one cares about anymore.




First and foremost: Detroit!? Really!? If these idiots did succeed and blowing up a plane over Detroit I’m pretty sure the media frenzy to follow that would be over quicker than what we’re dealing with now. All Detroit is to America is the rubble of a failed automotive industry, a shitty football team, and a good hockey team everyone loves to hate.




Second: If you fail at something you’re better off not claiming responsibility for it. It’s like being proud of spending 5 years getting a psychology degree. As soon as this idiot forgot how to use liquid explosives the Yemen chapter of Al WhoGive-a-Shit was quick to say they were responsible. Al Qaeda in Yemen is nothing more than a bunch of fucking attention whores with too much free time and nothing better to do. And Yemen? Nga Plz. Yemen is to Saudi Arabia as New Jersey is to the East Coast. A little fucking shit hole filled with fucking idiots that no one cares about. Yemen’s Al Qaeda members are the Guido’s of the Arab world. NO ONE LIKES YOU!!!




In closing: Yemenis Al Qaeda! You suck at what you do. What you stand for is so generic and played out that if the god you pretend to worship does exist he would be embarrassed by you. I respect (while simultaneously disagreeing with) all religions, but your take on Islam is childishly destructive and philosophically elementary. If you really want attention this bad why don’t you do something that benefits the world rather than setting the Muslims back any further than they already are? But I digress. In short, HA HA YOU SUCK!




~ Jack .45 ~