If I Were...A Rodeo Bull

If I were a rodeo bull I'd dominate the pro riding circuit. I'd cause so much harm and devastation they'd call me the Widow-maker or Mind-of-Mencia. God that show sucks. I'd leave slack jawed yokles even more slack jawed and yokley as they gaze in awe at my raw power. And I would train.

I wouldn't sit back being content maiming the fool hardy cowboy who thinks he could tame me. Id figure out which arching of my back made it possible for me to get my horns lodged in ribs and how to successfully perform a barrel roll. 8 seconds will seem impossible once I'm able to steam roll that Stetson wearing asshole into the dirt of Relient Stadium during Rodeo Week. Cowboys would fear me so much they wouldn't leave the safety of their mobile homes while the masses would cheer me on like a gladiator, calling for more victims to face me in this modern day colosseum.

I'd even invent a mechanical bull rider. That's right, a robotic cowboy that adjusts to every twist and buck that would push me to new levels of excellence. This task would seem hard since I only have bulky hooves and the intelligence of a retarded labrador. In fact I don't even know where I'd get parts. All I do is spill drool in my dirt pen. And my background in engineering probably wouldn't even encompass the basic components to start such a massive endeavor.

On second thought I think I am just going to gore a clown to death. The masses will still cheer.

Halloween Help Out

It's that time of year again. Here in Athens Ohio thousands converge in a drunken orgy that fills the streets and goes from dusk till dawn. Maybe I am exaggerating a little but you know 'prepare for the worst expect the best'. Now for all those students or even visitors comming in who think they can get away without a costume I've got some news, those who aren't wearing one are stoned to death on the college green. True story. Or they're just mistaken for creepy townies who look at Halloween as a free peep show. The important thing here is that you are prepared this year and if you still haven't gotten around to it we at Horrible People are your saviors once again with these helpful tips. Now these are going to be broken down into categories so try and stay with me.

Excellent Guys Costumes: Now these costumes are for the boys and can work on several hilarious levels. For those just planning to wrap themselves in toilet paper or wear a sheet I am afraid that everyone will hate you and you wont get laid. Sorry it's just how it is. However, using these ideas is a non stop one way ticket to pussy town...

Big Bad Bob Ross: Everyone loves him and his happy little trees. He's talented, sensitive and above all dead. But dont let that stop you from honoring his memory the Athens way by strapping on the white man's fro and getting sloppy drunk with a palette and paintbrush in your hands. You want to kick this ensemble to the next level get some face paint and be Zombie Bob Ross. Back from the beyond to bring us more awesome paintings in under a half hours time that you could never create no matter how close you're watching the TV screen. Just make sure you have the essentials so you're not confused with any average aging hippie.

Dale Chihuly: Alright I don't want to lose anyone here but Chihuly is a good choice because he offers versatility. He's the cycloptic glass blower who sells his sulptures for more then I will make in a lifetime. He's a little stout, a little gruff and has got that badass eye-patch that I can only assume occured in a drunken brawl. Now this get up goes a long way because you'll be able to gauge the intelligence of the girl you are meeting. If she is not in to fine art and stares back at you blankly when you say the name 'Chihuly', you can follow it up by stating he was a blood thirsty pirate king and nothing stood between him and booty! Thats where you grab her ass and she begins open mouth kissing you in the street. Also remark that this particular pirate loved wearing bright shirts and pants that never matched.

Christopher Walken from the Continental: How have I not seen this duplicated a hundred times over each year? Probably because I am a visionary and you hit a Halloween goldmine by reading this page. It's a reference anyone who's anyone will understand and gives you a chance to act like a lecherous pervert all night long. Christopher Walken brought this hilarious character to life and now you can too if you add slicked back hair, a pencil thin mustache, smoking jacket and a plastic champagne glass that you can take to the kegs. You care for some more Nati Ice, I mean Cham-pain-ya? Don't forget to give out a good 'Wow...wowee wow wow wow!' whenever possible.

Excellent Girls/Guys Costume: Only one in this category but if done right it could be a real hit

Emo Kid: We all hate 'em but here's your chance to see the sad and depressed world through their 125 dollar thick rimmed glasses. For the guys you need to leave your hair horrendously messy with black or blonde streaks of dye, put in a pattern that makes even a clown feel ashamed. then go with a shirt with some band name like "Hawthorn Heights", "Blood Ripped September" or "Suffocating Red Dawn Rising and the Screaming Sadness". Now add pants so tight you'll probably need surgery to remove your balls first and some classic vintage shoes.

Also I'd like to take a minute to point out that there is something completely fucked up with your scene when the only way to get into a girls pants is to literally get into a girls pants.

As for the females you have to go with the glasses, dyed black hair and some form of piercing that accents, well...nothing. Just slap it above your lip or on your chin. Bascially anywhere that would be considered ridiculous. Then go with the sweater vest pull over, bag lady style skirt and some clunky Doc Martins. Carry around a nice book like the Bell Jar and you'll be in business.

Excellent Girls Costumes: Now I am no expert on girls fashion but I do know what will be a hit. If you want some thoughtful and clever outfit that is sure to keep the heads turning then just take some of these hints. By the end of the night your oringinality will be the talk or drunken memory of all your peers...

Slutty Schoolgirl: That's right, this one is a classic and I don't want to mess with what works. Don't go crazy trying to reinvent the wheel, white knee high socks, short plaid mini skirt and a tied off white button up to show that midriff. For that little extra try going without panties and spin like a top when you enter a room. Its Halloween, a time to be carefree. And don't forget the pigtails, pigtails are hot as hell.

Slutty Cop: Am I the first person to ever think that a hot cop is sexy? Probably, but that shouldn't stop you from avoiding this surefire outfit. Get yourself the tight blue top with a badge that says something like Officer 69 and put on your little black cap. Add a short black skirt with a club and fuzzy handcuffs along the outside and to spice things up try not wearing panties. Throw on some real intimidating boots too, and feel free to frisk naughty boys at random.

A Slut: Keeping with the theme it's best to throw inhibitions to the wind and be something your not. Hell, even if you are this is a good opportunity to finally not be judged for it. Just get yourself a filthy little dress and apply make up that screms 'approach for blowjob'. If you need more ideas please research girls on Laguna Beach or any sorority.

A Slutty Slut: This one is taking it to the next level. It's best that you pray for warm weather and get pretty drunk prior to leaving your room. Also spending about 10 grand on some fake knockers is a plus. A lot like the slut but try showing more skin and play it up so there isn't a girl on the block that wont mumble the word whore as you walk by.

A Slutty Slut Dirty Pirate Whore: Maybe you can go with some guy who dresses as Chihuly and the two of you can make a night of it.

So that about wraps it up. Hope that I was able to benefit guys and girls on some fun, unique and terrific halloween hits. Just make sure to follow everything here as gospel and I should be having another terrific Halloween.

And as for yours truly? Why didn't I use one of these awesome ideas? Because I will be going as Zack Morris and a special lady of mine will be Kelly Kapowski. Letting people see everyone's favorite couple from Bayside High making it in the real world. And the best part is when I bring her back to my room I'll make her screech. You get what I'm saying!? YOU GET WHAT I'M SAYING!?

Even I don't get what I'm saying.

Halloween Help Out, Part II

I have some additional hints to combine with friend Jeff (Runner)’s list. I am not suggesting that you wear layers or protect your extremities from the frigid Ohio cold. I’m not a doctor. Rather, I am an Ohio University student. Trust us, we’re professionals. We aren’t the #2 party school in the country for nothing, you know. I am a man who knows how to really get into the festivities of Halloween in Athens. I have a few suggestions, beginning with #1:

#1: Drink Excessively.
Experts agree, you should beer-bong at least (At LEAST) one case of Nati. Each 12 ounce can adds something like a half of a degree of body heat. It’ll be like being at the beach! So ladies, feel free to wear the most scantily clad outfit you can find. This brings me to #2:

#2: Embrace the Hedonism
Women, this is your night to shine as the sex object that society has told you that you aren’t for the last decade or so, so enjoy the sexist cleverly guised as nonconformity and originality.

Gentlemen, this Halloween it is supposed to be about 50 degrees outside. In conjunction with Mother Nature I am happy to inform you that every woman will have two nipples with glass-cutting capabilities, so enjoy that (unless you are going as the mirror from Snow White, then it will suck). In addition, they are drunk. Very drunk. You have no real excuse not to get them naked. They don’t have that much on to begin with (just offer them a blanket and a half bottle of vodka, that should do).

#3: Stay Drunk
Make sure you keep a BAC of at least 1.64 all night. Constant bouncing from party to party and pub to pub doing keg stands/shot guns should keep you sufficiently buzzed.

#4: Guess at People’s Obscure Costumes
Nothing is as fun as trying to guess whether the drunk in front of you with the 1.64 BAC is Captain Morgan, Jack Sparrow, or Blackbeard for 15 minutes in the middle of Court Street. Sure, immediately pegging someone as Papa Smurf is fun too, but there’s an inherent entertainment factor people have when they’re being guessed at. And you’re asking for it if you’re dressing up as some random character from a random movie.

As for myself, I’m going as Luther from the 1979 gang war classic ‘The Warriors.’ That should be tons of fun explaining to the drunken masses. You folks have fun now, and make sure you don’t stay too sober.

The Unpleasant Blues

There's no bologna for my sammich,
mayonnaise gone bad.
Someone drank my sod-ee pop
and I’m feeling a little sad.
My CD player's skippin’.
I got bubble gum on my shoes, yeah.
Ain't nothing going right today.
I got the unpleasant blues.

I'm tellin' ya, baby.

Boxer shorts all fulla holes,
sock drawer's a mess.
Someone stole the dry-erase marker;
I’m so depressed!
The radio plays a happy song;
I guess they ain't heard the news.
This Anglo-Saxon’s not so white today, ‘cuz
I got the unpleasant blues.

An Open Letter to...Rolos

Dear Rolos,
You truly are delicious morsels, with your soft milk chocolate outside and smooth caramel center. You've brought taste and satisfaction whenever you were close by and I needed a pick me up. However, I feel there are certain aspects of our relationship that need to be addressed. First of which would be your foil covering. Why bother with such thin and brittle foil? Why wrap yourself in such a complicated coating of a pliable, gold tinted metal? I'm afraid I fail to see the reasoning. When I finally find a crease in your suit of armor it breaks into pieces. Little gold flakes falling all over my hands and jeans. Goddamn you Rolos, why do you tease me? After your shitty specks cover me people assume they must be the remains of body glitter from some stripper named Dakota. You know the type, just blanketed in ten cent sparkles from head to toe, claiming that they are "working their way through college". And me winking to let them know that I'm cool and understand that's stripper code for coke habit and asking if she can break a twenty. But I digress.

Lose the foil. It makes you look cheap and diminishes the satisfaction. Furthermore you need to stop tasting so great. I know thats what drove me to embrace your stout cylindrical form but enough is enough. I can't continue to spend hours inhaling pieces of chocolate that look like pieces from a board game. You need to incude some rolos that just aren't good. Sour outside, poor quality chocolate or maybe a razor blade. Something to make me stop. I BEG YOU TO HELP ME STOP! Ive already eaten a bag and a half just during this post! I can barely see the text through my tears. My fat, sugary tears, sweetened by the unholy amount of rolos Ive ingested. Please show me some mercy, either drop in quality or have a select few be so mind blowingly orgasmic I collapse from exhaustion. I've seen Willy Wonka and I know the power you candymen posess. Shrink the taste equivalent of a thousand rolos into one and let me fall into a sugar shock induced coma that leaves me a hollow shell of a once complete human being after recovery, as I would view the world as a hopeless and desolate wasteland, left to fathom how all its wonders combined could never compare to you.

Thanks a bunch,
Jay Runner

Hooray For Cleveland

Cleveland is where I hail from. Worst poverty level of any major city, longest championship drought for all major sports and THE ROCK N' ROLL HALL OF FAME! You want to buy a 28 dollar ticket to check out Ringo's mustache comb from 76' behind 3 feet of bulletproof glass? About a 40 minute drive for me sucka. Man, thank the lord that place isn't now viewed as a complete waste of city funds or an architectural disgrace (is there a sarcasm font?). Harder still is being a die-hard Browns fan, a team that has the worst record since it's return after being hijacked and taken to the heroin capitol of America. A prominent feature that the city suprisingly doesn't call recognition too. If there ever was a more susceptible group to bring in to increase tourism it would have to be addicts looking to chase the dragon.

And the worst part is Pittsburgh fans know about all of this. It's hard to come up with adequate comebacks to insult the piss and coal colors of the Steelers but today I think a picture is truly worth a thousand words.


However I think in the majority of those thousand words you'll find several being synonyms for obese, terrifying, fat, elephantine, gelatinous, gargatuan and THERE-IS-NO- GOD-AND-I-HAVE-PHOTOGRAPHIC-EVIDENCE .

Hey Steelers fans, you're ugly and I hate you.

*smiles and makes two pointing mock guns with hands*

USA now stands for Undeserved Sense of Accomplishment

If George Washington was alive today he’d probably kill himself. After he sees what has become of the country he helped to found would surely make him take his musket and stick it in his mouth. I’m sure that Ben Franklin and the rest of the gang felt that the right to bear arms as a part of an organized militia was necessary in tumultuous times, but he could not have envisioned three 17-year-olds toting semi-automatic high powered rifles with laser scopes and armor piercing rhino-tipped bullets into their high school because their math teacher gave them a C- and the kids with the popped collars called them gay freaks. Sure, Thomas Jefferson wanted free speech but they couldn’t have foreseen Larry Flint’s paralyzed legs yet fully functional libido. They believed in the equal rights of all citizens, but honestly people, some people don’t deserve rights. Some people deserve to be shot.

Take Kevin Federline for example. He managed to trick his pop star date-rape victim into thinking that he’s not in fact a trailer trash wangster. Now he’s a multi-millionaire trophy husband to the recently irrelevant and always untalented pop star Britney Spears. Here’s my point: the world would be better if Mr. Federline died. Under mysterious circumstances. Involving a set of fuzzy handcuffs, a goat, and a baby grand piano (use your imagination). Would you miss him? No. Actually, Britney Spears should die too. By getting stabbed through the heart in a tragic pork farmer’s convention accident. Called Ba-Con. Oh yea, that’s a good pun right there.

And the list goes on. The coat hanger shaped crack-whore known as Paris Hilton springs to mind as a good example of a cancerous boil on the neck of America. Other lecherous disgraces that can add their names to the list of the “Abominations in the face of the Nation and the Lord” include rapper/aspiring Catholic priest R. Kelly, Nair enthusiast Fabio, racist/homophobic/xenophobic/sexist Bill Frist (qualities which make him the ideal Republican candidate), professional crazy-insane bastard Dennis Rodman (who I hear used to play basketball), Salvador Dali-inspired Tammy Faye Baker, and the mindless automaton/ dealer of disinformation/fear-monger/shell of a man known as Bill O’Reilly.

All men are created equal, it says so in the Constitution (I think the top, I’d have to check). But just because they were created equal doesn’t mean that they end up equal. Just because you popped out of your mother’s vagina within the limits of the nation doesn’t automatically mean you get tenure on your life. Go to school, get a job, read a book, do something productive. If you’re not helping better the planet then you’re stealing my food, my oxygen, and my gravity.

And Kevin, c'mon now, wash your clothes and shower every once and a while. And don't forget to pretend like you've earned all that you have.

Affirmative Action Be Damned

There is only so much the majority can take before they feel their rights are being infringed. I can no longer stand by and tolerate a certain group that takes American freedom and runs wild. This subhuman class makes my blood boil and sight turn red, all while they are living with complete disregard for the rest of us here at Ohio University. I don't care if I sound like a bigot, it is time for someone to stand up. Affirmative action be damned, I will not allow protection for this group, let alone special attention.

The disgraceful people I am talking about? None other than the awful campus unicyclists. You heard me right, these wobbling one wheeled riders have outstyaed their welcome and more important their novelty factor.

Imagine an eight foot drunk in mid day. He stumbles through a dense crowd, arms flailing in a pathetic attempt to maintain balance. People try to ignore him but all he does is shout "I'm comming through" while he falters forward. In any sane society a miserable creature like this would not be tolerated, yet those who ride unicycles are. They cant even ride them well. Precariously perched on one wheel the tipsy riders roll by and expect us to get out of the way. If you're late for a class just run or at the least use two wheels you commie. Furthermore it doesnt make you special. Ive seen the Pet Stars on Animal Planet hosted by the wildly talented Mario Lopez. A chimp was riding a unicycle, and unlike the student manned variety down here the chimp had control over it.

Additionaly I dont want to be blamed for any harm that comes from these sideshow rejects when I have the urge to body check them as they fly past. I easily revert back to my childhood pro wrestling fan days and dream of throwing out a stiff clothesline right to the throat. Now more than likely I would get blamed and arrested for assault. But anyone reading this knows if placed in a concrete room with an aluminum bat and Paris Hilton they are not responsible for the consequences. Such is the temptation for attacking these goofy bastards bopping up and down on their half Huffy's. From now on if I see someone on a unicycle and they aren't in a clown suit or juggling I consider them fair game. And there are more than enough loose brick walkways here in Athens to back me up.

There isnt a judge in the world who'd convict me. Unless of course his last name was Barnum or Bailey. But I'll play the numbers game and take my chances in this instance.

(Extra points for you more debased readers that took the Paris Hilton scenario in a sexual direction)

I hear Einstein's desk was messy too...

I am a pack rat in every sense of the word. In addition to that fact, I am also lazy. This leads to an extreme accumulation of what can be best described as crap. One look in my room and you’ll see I don’t like to throw anything out for the two reasons mentioned above. In an earlier post on this blog I made mention of some of the ridiculous items hanging on the walls and sitting around the room at the VFW. I thought I might make a similar list here.

13 posters of varying sizes and shapes (I’d go into the specifics, but it would take far too long.)
1 television atop a DVD/VCR atop 1 microwave atop 1 refrigerator atop 1 cabinet
70+ aluminum cans duct taped to the wall
2 duct tape pockets by the bed to hold my cell phone and remote control
1 jazz bass guitar
2 sets of pan pipes
4 milk crates stacked by the closet holding even more random objects
1 ‘Steamboat Willie’ bobblehead doll that doubles as a hook to hold some of my jewelry
25+ blank CDs
5 decks of cards stacked on the shelf over my desk
32 books, from ‘Fahrenheit 451’ to ‘Oh, the Places You’ll Go’
11 DVDs, from ‘Stripes’ to ‘A Beautiful Mind’
1 box of diabetic supplies under my bed
2 folders (not to mention various shirts, shoes, pop bottles, sketch books, etc) strewn across the floor
100+ miscellaneous objects sitting around, hanging from, or duct taped to my room

You get the idea.

Which leads me to this: of all the things I’ve collected it is typically most surprising to my friends and people who see my bat-cave of a room is that I have a large collection of pop tabs. I don’t have much order or logic to the set up of anything in here, but somehow my pop tab tin has remained virtually untouched by all of this madness.

By the way, this is not just any collection of pop tabs, oh no… this is an unsurpassed personal record. Sure, groups have amassed much more pop tabs than I, but for only one person I have the best (so far as I know). I have literally… wait, lemme count…

(We’ll be right back after these words from our sponsors…)
Do you want to lose weight fast? Call 1-800-LOSE-YO-FAT-ASS now!
201 facts the government doesn’t want you to know about your taxes!
Buddy’s Taxidermy: you shoot it, we stuff it!
I made 350 bazillion dollars in 2 days with this program! Buy it now!
Twin real estate midgets in matching suits; what could be more trustworthy!
Shmulik’s Moyel Specialists: Buy one, get one half off!
(…And we’re back)

786 pop tabs. And counting. Plus a plastic fork and Boylan Crème Soda cap (hey, you can’t keep all the madness out).

As you can see, I am not the most organized person on the planet. I like to live by a simple creed: ‘If it’s not important, leave it where it is. Chances are, if you need it again, it’ll be right where you left it.’ That’s how my mind works. Unorthodox I suppose, but if I need to find something I usually know where to look. My mind is a lot like my room (and this blog post as well, I suppose) ‘cuz it’s all in here. I just need to find it under all the folders and bottles and stuff.

Also, that moyel joke earlier was a good one. Go look up what it means if you don’t already know.

Wal-Mart Owns My Soul (but apparently no box fans)

Wal-Mart is not simply a way of life in college, it is a religion. Every student I know goes to Wal-Mart at least once a month; I know very few that can say that about their houses of worship. Personally, I go every two weeks or so to pick up things I can’t get at the local market like duct tape, quality lunch meats and cheeses, computer paper, etc.

Which brings me to my point: Wal-Mart has been out of box fans for 3 months. I have visited my local Wal-Mart about 6 times since the start of school and they have not had a single box fan. C’mon now, I just need a box fan. How hard could it be to have one single box fan somewhere in this metropolis of shelves? Also, the most recent time I visited they told me that they’ve been put away for the season.

Wait, what?

You’re… you’re serious? You… have more room in this place? There’s closet space here? What the fuck do you need more room for!? There’s more room in this place than in the entirety of a city block. I think that Wal-Mart just has a wiretap that keeps tabs on me, and whenever I come in they know to hide the box fans. No, I’m not crazy, listen to me. There’s no other logical explanation. How could Wal-Mart possibly be out of box fans for so long? It’s a trap! They know that when I come in looking for box fans that I leave with like 4 $2 DVDs and 6 lbs. of candy and that I’ll be back in 10 days or so. They leave you wanting, without explanation or reason for the lack of answers you get. So, like swallows to Capistrano, I too return to once again feel the anguish of forsakenness and sorrow.

Much like Catholicism.

A Sometimes Food?

Sacrilege. That's the only word that could possibly describe it. We all grew up on Sesame Street. The songs, the puppets and the counting. Good healthy fun for growing children. My favortie character was Cookie Monster by far. An awful, googley eyed, blue mass of fuzz that would devour cookies like a coke junkie. And since my attention span was frighteningly weak I would be entertained everytime he did it. And he did it a lot, because cookies are awesome. Or at least they used to be.

Cookie Monster is being revamped by the powers that rule over Sesame Street like slumlords. He is now saying that cookies are a "sometimes food". Press releases from the execs say that the change has been made to combat the growing obesity in children. They see it as an epidemic but this new monster I believe is far worse.

Yes children are getting fat. And I mean real fat, like beachball size. I'm talking sausage looking youngsters plodding and rolling all over the place. However I fail to see the connection between cookie monster and the increased rates. That show has been on since 1969 and the rise has only been recent. Furthermore his name is fucking "Cookie Monster". A beast whose soul purpose is predecated on inhaling cookies, and obtaining them by whatever brutal means are necessary. Yeah thats how I remember it.

As many and as much as possible, cookies day and night. Even a child will be able to see the problem with a monstrous being counteracting his biological evolution towards cookie lust in a sudden and unexplained neurological rerouting and deciding that the addiction no longer holds sway over his behavior. Or maybe children won't notcie that, but I sure as hell do and this is tampering with my childhood. The main problem is that we are viewing this as adults, children dont really think about these things because they want to laugh, play, sniff glue and try on mom's underwear when she leaves for work. All the normal kids stuff we all did.

A perfect example of adult interference is the muppet Kami that was released in 2002 in the South African version of Sesame Street. Many countries have variants of the classic American version and add their own local flavor so that cultures will find it appealing. Kami is a fun, nature loving muppet made of yellow fluff and dons a hippie vest. She also happens to be HIV positive. Yes, a muppet, who has no genitalia or a circulatory system to speak of some how contracted the virus which leads to acquired immunodeficiency syndrome which is commonly referred to as AIDS. Holy Shit.

The idea was to promote tolerance for people who are infected, which is rational thinking since the virus is the contries largest problem as nearly 1-9 are HIV positive. A problem that does need to be addressed but somehow a kids show with muppets doesnt really scream "appropriate". The only thing Kami teaches me is that I have to wear a rubber over my arm before trying to operate her. And hey, since we are all for truth, why not also remind the children that someday they are going to die with a puppet named Corpsey who decays throughout an episode. He'll have some sort of terminal bone cancer or an inoperable tumor and tell Oscar to quit his bitching, cause hed gladly live in a garbage can if it would replace the nausea from chemotherapy. Oscar was always such an insensitive prick.

Kids need to be kids, this education should be discussed in a serious manner by families and educators. Its just things children dont think about, and really shoudn't be thinking about. Hell no I never wondered if Bert and Ernie were gay. Somehow the clues to what their friendship may suggest about their sexual orientation escaped me as a three year old, yet protest of their relationship has made news for years.

The point is Cookie Monster eats cookies and kids like being entertained. And I like to remember my childhood not being filled with HIV and bigotry of possible homosexuals.

COMS 103; a poem

If you could see me slumping here
then you could plainly see
that I am not a big fan of
the class COMS 103.
It’s Public Speaking, it’s12-2
it’s up in Lasher Hall.
Inform, convince, deliver, and persuade;
I just can’t take it all.
I guess the Prof is nice enough,
my classmates all seem cool.
The subject matter’s just so rough; so
I fall asleep and drool.
I dream of ponies, candy, toys,
of unicorns and rainbows.
I dream of that guy from the infomercials
who tries to sell me Tae-Bo.
I’m off in my own little world,
but that fantasy’s soon gone,
for the Prof drones on and on and on
and on and on and on.
The next assignment has been posted,
it’s worth 55.
Less than 2 weeks to be completed?
I’d better act alive!
12 days I’ve toiled, 12 nights I’ve worked,
I can’t take anymore.
The end is near, I’m almost done;
this is all such a bore.
It’s done! It’s in! I can do no more!
I am so relieved.
I volunteer to go first;
this will be easier than first believed
I deliver well, I garner applause.
I sit back down with out a peep.
I find that a wry smile crawls across my face,
for now I can go back to sleep…

You look like somebody I know...

I look like other people more than other people. Let me clarify: People tell me that I look like people they know. A lot. I'd say about 4-5 times a week some person I don't know makes mention that I "look like (insert name here)." I think I get the "hey, you look like this guy I know from..." line more than any other person on the planet. I guess I'm just very normal looking to some people, which is great if I ever become a felon. No one would be able to identify me.

"Attention all cars: be on the lookout for Caucasian male, normal height, normal build, brownish lightish hair, darkish lightish eyes. He is armed and considered extremely dangerous."
"What's he done?"
"I dunno, the normal stuff I guess."

"Ma'am, which one is the man who stole your TV and raped your dog?"
"I don't know, but this guy looks like a guy I went to high school with. Does that help?"
"No Ma'am, it doesn't."

Occasionally I'll get drunk or high people who are so utterly convinced that I'm somebody they know that I can't convince them otherwise.

"Dude, Bobby!"
"No, uh, my name is Reuben."
"PSHSHSH, quit playin' Bobby. How ya been man?"
"Uh... Good?"

At that point I just play along, because there's an old maxim that you should never get into a fight with an idiot or a drunk, and often times these kinds of people are both. That's a double whammy! I'll begin to reminisce about "That one time... when we went to that place... to do that thing... Remember? Huh? 'Member? He remembers, stop playin' Bobby!" So that's 10-15 minutes of free entertainment on a Saturday night right there.

Of course I get that because of how generic I look to other people, which I want to vehemently deny. I don’t think I look that normal, or for that matter like any other people. In the range of famous people I've been told I look like (among others) Jim Carrey, Billy Idol, and Paul McCartney. Except without the talent. Hooray.

This all leads me to believe that my buddy Ben's screen name is entirely too generic for the IMing populace. You see, he took part in the following train wreck of a conversation, which strangely resembles my personal misadventures in mistaken identity.

(The names have been changed to protect the innocent)

(tummysquashinsect): hey baby!
(Ben): hey
(tummysquashinsect): : are college girls hotter than me?
(Ben): I'll admit something...
(Ben): I have no idea who this is.
(tummysquashinsect): : remember we were like the couple in high school
(tummysquashinsect): : did it a few times!!
(Ben): Fairly sure that I never had a girlfriend in high school
(Ben): Who do you think that this is?
(tummysquashinsect): : It's Charlie!!
(Ben): My name's Ben
(tummysquashinsect): : stop joking silly!
(Ben): not kidding
(tummysquashinsect): : I know our relationship ended badly buyt stop okay
(Ben): Thus, I frankly have no idea whether or not college girls are, in fact, hotter than you
(Ben): Because I don't know yo
(tummysquashinsect): : are they hot tho?
(Ben): Yes. If Charlie, whoever he may be, is attending college, he is no doubt surrounded by a large number of hot girls at his school.
(tummysquashinsect): signed off at 4:23:41 PM.

Oh Ben; welcome to my world. The good news is that you'll never have to worry about the police coming after you for illegal music downloading because they won't be able to pick your screen name out of a lineup.

That last line seems like a weak way to end this thing. Also, I didn't really curse at all, and I like to end with a quick one liner with some dirty words sprinkled in. Oh, well. Sucks for you.

Fucking bitch's twats.

Hopefully I won't be sporting a Columbian necktie

As trendy as they are in South America, I'd feel fine in a ringed tee.

I need cash and my car is in the shop. Doorhandles jammed, fender dented and a blown head gasket. Everything about my car is broke, especially the owner. I'd pimp my ride but I couldnt even get it to work as a phone sex operator. I don't have a job and am currently running through my cash like water. Although I normally do not run through water. Let me think. Uhhh what's something I normally run through? Police Caution tape? Old people in grocery lines? Well I guess thats more like body checking. Oh I got it now...the aisles of Best Buy after I swipe a cd I want but can't shell out 19 dollars for. So I am running through cash as fast as I sprint from overweight stockboys at Best Buy and realize I need some income.

So I decide I am going to have to get an honest 9-5 type job, or sell drugs. Or maybe both if the ginko biloba pills really do work and my multi tasking ability increases like the label says. As for jobs though i can not think of what Id be able to do. Restaruant work has passed me by seeing as I can no longer stand customers. That and the management was something I never liked answering too. So I need to think of a profession where I dont have to deal with customers making insipid demands or managers to kowtow to. Oh thats right selling drugs!

I figure I could start small growing some high end herb and dishing it out around campus. Lets face it I wouldn't really be selling drugs, they sell themselves. Id be more the middle man, offering their services for a price. Their services being 'fucking yo ass up'. So id take care of my money problem as well as providing a valuable service to the wanting public. 2 problems now come to mind.

1) The governement has been killing the nations buzz for almost a hundred years and my new line of work could take me to San Quentin. Historically a fascinating prison to see and experience, however the fun of learning about new places first hand would probably dissolve around shower time.

2) Rival drug gangs. Which brings us to the header of this piece. Cloumbian neckties are what officers who investigate drug war casualties have nicknamed victims whose throats are slashed and tongues pulled down through the esophogus and onto the chest. Now is that likely to occur in rural Ohio? God Willing! How cool would that obituary read! But maybe only right before I was going to die of natural causes 70 years from now. I'd rather not cut the good times short.

With all of these dangers I believe I have a better solution. How about instead of the drugs idea everytime you get a laugh from reading passages on this site you send me a dollar. That seems fair, even if it's an aritcle I didn't write. Aww fuck just send me 20 bucks and pretend it was for cancer research or something. I'll even send back a trendy bracelet with the words "Hope Creates Miracles" on it.

And as a bonus I promise that same bracelet will get you laid. Yeah, now we're getting somewhere.

Reuben Tells You Why Your Favorite Comedian Sucks, Part 1: Carlos Mencia

Don't even try to argue with me, he sucks. He's what my friends and I refer to as 'having his moments,' which is code for not absolutely terrible, but painful to watch anyway because of how awful he is 98.4% of the time. My stool is funnier than Mencia that he is on his best day (and he doesn't have a whole lot of best days). Occaisionally he gets a little chuckle out of me, but rarely, and usually it's because how ridiculously untalented he is. Don't believe me? Let me break it down for you:

1. Every joke has the same ending
'Hey, it's funny cuz I said beaner! Get it?' Oh yes, we get it. We got it the last time you told that joke, cuz it's the only joke you ever use. Every joke you tell ends with either the word 'beaner' or an impression of one of your Mexican family members. Didn't see that one coming. Also, after you finish a punchline you turn to the audience and say something like, 'Oh, that's offensive Carlos' in a falsetto voice and quickly follow it with, 'Hey, I'm telling it like it is.' Awesome, good for you. Now please shut the fuck up. You are not the savior of free speech in America. You have a job because Dave Chappelle went bat-shit insane in South Africa a few weeks before he was to start his next season. Comedy Central needed a racial comedian quick, and they couldn't afford Chris Rock and George Lopez already has a show. So they hired you. You beaner.

2. Every joke has the same premise
Somewhere in the middle of every Mencia joke has a line similar to this: 'Can you imagine a Mexican in this situation?' Yes I can, and I'm sure they'd have a stereotypically Mexican response like you have attributed to them in every possible situation. 'Can you imagine a Mexican getting pulled over by a cop in South-Central? AI MIOS DIO!!' 'Can you imagine a Mexican buying car insurance? MEH GUSTO MUCHO!!!' 'Can you imagine a Mexican having sex with the President in the Oval Office? YO QUIERO TACO BELL!!!' Clever. Hilarious. Brilliant. Mencia is none of these things.

3. I've seen this guy before...
I just can't put my finger on it... Oh wait, it's Dat Phan. Remember him? From Last Comic Standing, the little Vietnamese kid who did the EXACT SAME JOKES. Switch the word 'Mexican' for 'Vietnamese' and the word 'beaner' for 'nondescript asian.' It's the same damn thing! Deja vu is a change in the matrix; It means they're changing something. Notice that we haven't seen proof ofDat Phan's existance since I saw Carlos for the first time on TV, check that shit out.

Please, everyone, PLEASE do not let your friends think that Carlos Mencia is funny at all, let alone funny enough to deserve a half hour show. Carlos Mencia is one of the reasons why bad comedians think they're good just because they're being offensive and insensitive in thier sets. Carlos Mencia is one of the reasons why I don't tell racial jokes onstage anymore. Carlos Mencia is a bad comedian and you are a consumer of terrible comedy if you think otherwise.

Okay Carlos, I'm going to leave now, don't eat my tortillas or lower my pick-up while I'm gone.

One of these Things is not like the Others

So I played poker at the VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars) last night, about 15 minutes outside of Athens. Somewhere along the drive I crossed over the republican-democrat line and didn't know about it. I walk in and it's not exactly what I expected somehow. The following is a list of things I see:

1 hand quilted American flag on the wall
1 American flag dedicated to those killed in the 9/11 attacks on the wall
1 very old poster of the Pledge of Allegiance on the wall
1 extremely bad combover (I only saw one, I bet there were more)
10+ Budweiser collector series mirrors, including 1 for each branch of the US military
2 paintings of dogs playing poker
1 gun rack with 12 guns (and 3 empty spots where there should be guns)
1 saying of the Pledge of Allegiance prior to the tournament
1 cubic ton of cigarette and cigar smoke
1 utterly sloshed Vietnam vet getting the bum's rush
94 poker players, 90% of which were less talented than the dogs mentioned earlier
1 pair overalls (worn by unintelligible crotchety old man)
1 WWII vet that hates me (I'll discuss that later)
1 retarded morbidly obese ugly as fuck Taco Bell employee (with a faux-hawk)
1 college student wearing Columbus Crew soccer jersey and cargo shorts

Let's play a game: One of these things is not like the others. Care to guess? That's right, the college student. And by college student... I mean me. Yea, that was fun. I felt right at home with my liberal arts college ass in the middle of this Bush-loving red state clusterfuck.

Okay, so there were other college kids there, but none wearing a fucking soccer jersey. What the fuck was I thinking?

So that was sufficiently awkward. Oh, and that WWII vet that hates me? Yea, he wants my balls in a jar on the mantle. Let me explain: I'm already knocked out, and Nick (aka Miller Time) is at a table with him. Vet-man pushes Nick all in, Nick calls with AK to his 77, Nick catches Ace and King on flop, he wins, Vet gets pissed. I'm sitting behind him, saying 'nice take' and shit, and the following ensues:

Vet: 'Excuse me, are you playing at this table?'
Me: 'Uh, no.'
Vet: 'Then get the hell away.'

Note: I did nothing wrong. At all. Normally, I'd smack a guy who said that to me in the mouth (verbally of course) . But this is obviously his home field, so I quietly leave the table.

Shortly there after, he's knocked out. I'm playing solitare 20 feet away, but he walks by on the way to the bar. As he passes...

Me: 'Hey, sorry if I did anything wrong, I...'
Vet: 'You try to pull that crap again and I'll make sure you don't play here again.'

At that point I should have made a comment about his dead mother and how she never really loved him and that's why he had to join the army, but I thought better of it. I thought about making an inference about how gays shouldn't be in the military, let alone be at the VFW talking trash to college kids, but I have more self control than that. I thought about asking him how the flashback of the Battle of Midway was going, but I didn't because I have respect for the soon-to-be dead citizens of this great country. The fact of the matter is this guy was an arrogant ass who thought that he actually had the authority to make me leave the side of a table (instead of me avoiding confrontation with a battle worn veteran like any sane person would do).

God bless the USA, and God bless the veterans who fought for it. Not all of them though 'cuz some of them, like the guy at the VFW, suck.

Although slobbery Vietnam vet who got kicked the fuck out, you can party with me any time.

How Soon Is Too Soon?

There is a discussion that occurs amongst comedians that has been debated after every natural disaster, every act of war, and every generally bad thing that happens, and it is this:

"Is it too soon to make jokes about (insert catastrophe here)?"

Now, what I have heard is the generally accepted grieving time that you should allow after a lot of people die is 1 year per 500 people. I find that to be way too vague, because I could make a joke about the president being shot the day after, but I couldn’t make fun of 200 people dying in a Turkish bath after a terrible towel warming machine accident until well after March, and that’s inherently funny, although to me the president being shot is funny too. “George W got himself shot yesterday, which means that someone else in this world agrees with his position on executing retards.” Badum ching!

Personally, I don’t think there should be any down time in between a tragedy and me getting on stage and poking fun at it. To me, funny is funny, there’s little to no middle ground. I resisted making 9/11 jokes for a few months because of the political variables, but that didn’t stop me from making fun of Osama bin Ladin (Yea, remember him? Still out there somewhere.) until most of the sore spots had healed.

“The Statue of Liberty must’ve been worried as hell on 9/11. She’d must have been like, ‘what the fuck?!’ (holds up mic like the torch, looks behind). I should go back to France!”

Now I tell jokes like that one bout 9/11 and there are STILL people who get offended by them. I understand if you had family members or friends in the attacks, and I know it’s a touchy subject, but SHUT UP! I’m telling jokes here! I mean, if it’s funny, then laugh. There should be no other considerations there. It’s ‘stand up comedy,’ not ‘stand up bitch and moan if you don’t think what he’s saying is appropriate.’

“I went to the football game tonight and they were giving out these towels, and I thought, ‘Man, I can’t think of another stadium full of people who need towels.”

Some comedians ruin it for the rest of us. I have already heard a few hilarious bits on Hurricane Katrina. (this one from a comedian I heard 2 Fridays ago after a big football game here at OU.) But some are just insensitive and stupid and not funny by any stretch of the imagination. Here’s a hint: jokes about dead bodies are never funny. (Except zombie jokes. Zombies are funny.) Jokes about the government response or things like that are good; any good comedian knows that. Some people think disgusting the audience and making them hostile towards you is not good business.

I could go on longer, but it boils down to this: It is never ‘too soon.’ If your joke is funny.

And zombies rule.

Dawning of a New Era

First post and not a minute to soon. That's right, we got a third horrible person on this site and he be me. I'm sure this site will gain critical acclaim and be wildly popular with the homeless insane. Assuming they dont get kicked out of the cyber cafe immediately after public defecation. Those decency laws hurt us here at Horrible People since it removes our fan base.

Nonetheless I am here to help funny this shit up. Oh we all bring the funny, right on a silver platter, but this holy triumvirate of comedy wasn't complete until now. So familiarize yourself with some of the posts, get to know your Horrible People intimately, and use this site as a guiding light to follow in this crazy world because let's face it we're not doing this for our health. Please enjoy show.

Reuben Tells You Why Your Favorite Music Sucks: My Chemical Romance

Okay, let’s assume that since you are reading this blog you read a lot of blogs. If you do indeed read a lot of blogs, then there is also a good chance that you are a member of the Haiku-writing, Harry Potter glasses-wearing, self-loathing self-centered douche bag revolution known as…

Emo.

I hate Emo more than George Bush hates black people. I hate Emo so much it makes my stomach ill to even hear the mention of LiveJournal in public. I hate Emo with a white hot passion that will not be quenched by any sports drink yet known to man. I could write a dissertation on the hatred in the cockles of my heart that I hold for the demon-spawn that is Fall Out Boy and Linkin Park, but I am not here to discuss Emo as a whole. No, I have a special place on my personal ‘I hope you die in a car fire’ list for My Chemical Romance.

This band is different from other Emo bands for a few reasons, so let’s dissect them:

1. One major problem is that they are melodramatic in their videos even when compared to other Emo bands. In one of their videos, they have then nerve to compare a break up (Gee, I wonder why anyone would break up with any of those guys) to the storming of the beaches at Normandy. Let me repeat that: THE STORMING OF THE BEACHES AT FUCKING NORMANY! Yea, cuz when my girlfriend broke up with me I too felt as if hundreds of thousands of soldiers died… for my feelings.

2. I can typically bear listening to Linkin Park for a good fifteen minutes without an aneurism bursting in my head. I bet I could even listen to melodramatic poetry from a Rivers Cuomo wanna-be* at a coffee house without jamming a fork into my ears for, I don’t know, 3 or 4 minutes. What separates My Chemical Romance from the rest of the pack is how profoundly unskilled musically and uncreative lyrically they are. Every song is a carbon copy of the one previous. ‘My girl left me, I’m so sad, feel my pain, I think I’ll cry.’ The end. Great, that was fun to listen to. Let’s go play checkers… No! You can’t go play checkers because you’re brain dead from listening to this crap.

*(side note: Rivers Cuomo is not Emo. Weezer is not Emo. There is a difference between Emo and actual emotion. They have never been Emo, and never will be Emo. Rivers was clinically depressed, and therefore had meaning behind his lyrics. Emo is just some kids who didn’t get the PS2 for Christmas rebelling by stealing their little sister’s makeup.)

3. There are a lot of other things terribly, terribly wrong with My Chemical Romance (which you may feel free to add in the comments below), but perhaps most grievous is this: they are so painfully marketable, so musically void, and so mind-numbingly easy to replicate that now there are musicians thinking to themselves, ‘Hey, if they can get away with that then so can I.’ For the next decade our local music scenes will be bombarded with melodramatic crap. Where once we had talent, we have no more. Marquees reading ‘The Tear Mongers’ and ‘Cut My Wrists So I Can Have Feelings’ will pop up across this great country of ours. It will be hell on earth for concert goers; hundreds of bands with no real message, no real feelings, and it is all the fault Emo, and in particular the fault of one band: My Chemical Romance.

That is why My Chemical Romance sucks.

Also, you can’t really dance to it, and that was the only redeeming quality disco.

Go Forth and Be Funny, part I

Lo, and the Lord said unto Reuben, “Go forth and create a blog. Make it bountiful with the pungent droppings of your mind. Be thoughtful and outspoken, for you are quick of wit and low of morals. Speak out unto the downtrodden bloggers, for they are weary: the Bored, the Emo, the Sleepless, the Drunk, and the Unwitting who accidentally clicked the link in your profile. Berate them with your opinions, for the blog shall act as your soapbox and your posts as your megaphone. So sayeth the Lord.”

And Reuben replied, “Listen, voice in my head; I cannot do as you command. I am but a sober college student lost in the hills of Athens, Ohio. How shall I raise my voice when I perform my stand up comedy on Friday nights at the #2 party school in the nation?”

And the Lord said, “Quit your bitchin’! Jeez, all I want you to do is start a comedy blog. What the hell is your problem? Honestly, shut the fuck up and write some damn comedy!”

And it was good.