Day In The Life Of A Lovable Grump - 1. Chapter 1

I'm a classic and an original, possibly meaning I'm a pervert...

I was born an unsolved problem, possibly because I'm too born-lazy to be anything but an existentialist - while I always have enjoyed existence and myself as my own circus.

Everyone should tend to the business of keeping their noses clean by tending the business of keeping their noses out of everybody else's business.

If one is ever needed, the best and simplest museum for homosexual sluts would be a statue of a nude dude bent over with a sign above the butt hole saying: Open to the public.

Any judgmentality that criminalizes mistakes is a capital offense.

One area of expertise that's easiest to master is cultivating the vineyard of sour grapes.

The only thing I fear is people who live in fear of fear.

The lord giveth, he taketh away and chargeth loan shark's interest on the whole shebang right up to foreclosure. Scrooge was small change by comparison.

I was adult when I was a child and I'm still a child.

Living makes me feel significant - and humble enough to do my own
thing.

It's astonishing to realize how many people are below the average of ordinary.

Anybody who can define normal is dangerous.

Being terrified by ludicrously inane horror movies requires the same process as accepting God, in other words, accepting inane irrationality and ludricously but willingly suspending a horror of
lacking common sense disbelief.

If you don't like the smell of the crap, take a bath.

Guilt feelings rarely if ever take responsibility.

There aren't any such things as bad puns since there aren't any such things as good ones in the first place to determine bad by comparison.

Forget savage serial killers. Survival of the fittest for humans means surviving the savagery of serial backstabbers.

I found god, took him home and someone a lot wiser said, 'Look what the cat dragged in!'

Perhaps lamentably, I sometimes wonder if Mahler isn't a serial cul-de-sacist who keeps getting lost in one suburban cul-de-sac after the other. And he never quite makes it to the nearest mall, either.

For some people, thinking itself is a mental block, the virtual equivalent of thought-lobotomy of which they are the world's most skillful surgeons.

Considering the horror movie-like history of Christianity and the grisly nature of The Divine, Multiple but Triune Personality, it very well could be that God the Father knocked-up a Texas Chain
Saw Massacring Virgin with The Holy Ghost on Halloween - the problem being daddy finding a Texas virgin including his own off-spring. With possible success in that regard, it might be that God
the Son presided over his bastard younger half-brother's Black Mass birthing ritual by dancing around a non-virginal burning bush while chanting, 'I Am That I Am The Son of Sam.'

Despite the circular logic involved, it might be worth considering that there's something wrong with people who need God, why they need 'im in the first place.

Rumors are unsubstantiated propaganda.

I'm not sure there'd be anything commendable about life outliving art
by any serious stretch. Life desperately needs something to imitate.

Know what the skunk-preacher said to his fellow-worshipers during
prayer meeting? 'Let us rise and spray.'

They obviously occupied caves at the lower end of the learning curve and were out of the loop. But some Neanderthal dudes thought that the quest for fire was looking for pussy - a decided relief from having to rub their third legs against other sticks in the hope of sparking a flame to light their fire.

Organized religion attracts, allows and encourages those without a
soul to pretend otherwise - then boots them off to hell if they fail.

I didn't have a real choice in choosing not to believe in The Big Boy
Upstairs - I'm a born-skeptic who came into the world not with
inbred sin but the inbred inability to believe in The Divine
Irrationality.

How does a narcissist get a piece of ass? - strips and bends over in front of a mirror.

He or she who doesn't feel manipulates and exploits.

A passive-aggressive, self-pitying denial of immodesty has all the
modesty of an exhibitionist wearing nothing but a toilet seat for a
necklace.

It wouldn't be so bad about people feeling sorry for themselves if
they wouldn't send out so many invitations for others to join them.

Here's one good thing: You'll never catch a cold in drafts coming
from closed minds.

Stupidity loves an audience and stupidity provides one.

It should be neither a breaking nor even a bending of principles to wrap your mind around the concept of tolerance.

Vengeance often hides behind judgmentality disguised as morality, a trinity tending to demand punishment disproportionate to what it loves condemning.

"Sufficient to the day has always been the evil thereof": First came the invention of religion followed by psychiatry, with the one necessitating the other, though it always could be that psychiatry is
failed religion.

Being half-truthful tends to have about as much usefulness as being half pregnant or half dead.

Deep thoughts are drawn from the deep well of even deeper silence; wisdom is bottomless.

It might make you bitter, cynical and angry, even hateful. But it'd be wise to confront the truth that all of us ultimately are betrayed by our truth, though none of us can be blamed for hoping we're
betrayed by that truth.

You've attained a higher level of something or other if you're not complicated, but complex enough that you can afford to be simple. Being complicated is a damn disgrace unto itself.

My fly may be down, but not out, just stuck in the peanut butter and jelly of life!

The disease of wisdom can be detected by the symptom of not knowing you have it.

Important things tend to be important only to those for whom they're important. Oddly, triviality so often qualifies.

Once upon a very, very long time ago, god said, "You humans are a real pain in the butt; vengeance is mine, saith the lord!" and has
been screwing us in the ass ever since.

A fool's games are rarely won - wisdom knows when its work is done.

To err is human. To forgive can be done, in front of a national
audience on a TV talk show. But then, hell, that's an even better
time to haul-off and punch your ex-boyfriend - gay or not - in the
mouth. That'll have you feeling quite divine.

I'm so glad I'm not someone else!

One dogbone of truth humankind buries before worrying and gnawing is
that dogs are of more value to humankind than humankind is to
itself... and that's no puppy chow.

Life truly is a wonderful cathouse of paradox since you can strike out and still get screwed.

It's easy and very convenient to insist that everyone's equal if
you're the one feeling inadequate and inferior. There's nothing quite
like the democracy of insecurity.

You might want to stop and think when you're tempted to talk your
heart out. If it's full enough of anything worth hearing, your heart
should get stuck in your throat.

The main reason for denial of humans as beasts is to defend the
disaster-formula otherwise known as monogamy. Fidelity among other
species is looser than an elephant's pussy pointed upwind during love-
making with an entire storm season of hurricanes.

Unfortunately, many of us as adults forget the child's art of
blushing, and a great wisdom is thereby lost.

It's not so much that middle-aged guys have affairs with younger gals
because they want a 'newer car model', but a fresh set of tires to
help them show off while they try peeling out of a mid-life crisis,
more than happy to toot their own horn.

Never send a man but a boy like Billy The Kid, who likes playing with
guns, if you want to steam-up the town marshals and their boys who
like playing with guns.

There's nothing particularly beautiful about the penis, though it is
particularly fitting for the male species since the male genitalia is
nothing but a meat-club, further meaning that men are nothing but
sausages below the waist and meatballs above the neck.

It's truly wonderful, a biting tongue-in-cheek, as
long as you don't mis-aim and bite your tongue or your cheek,
among other things.

Jesus had a resurrection because he descended into hell after kicking
the bucket, checked-out the party-scene down under, said "been there,
done that" and got the hell out of there.

Lots of people have resurrections by coming back from hard-hitting
nights at bars. Problem is, that too often takes longer than three days.

Not only are all Americans going straight to hell, they're already in hell: America.

Be selfless: Do unto others as you'd never do unto yourself, though
the selfishness couldn't hurt of getting a punch in before the next
fellow.

The human experience is like a glider journey since some people are
pockets of hot air - just too bad they aren't more uplifting.

Of course, politicians are slippery: their palms are always greased.

One beautiful thing about lying is a chance to exercise your
creativity. Few things are more deflating than a lie with no zip.

I've always had a weak side for the sucker-punch of change. On the
other hand, I have benefited from the stability of never being able
to make up my mind.

Women have been the consummate mistresses of the art for millenia,
and 'going to woman with a whip' might not be such a worry if one can
crack a quip like Nietzsche. Survival in the war of the sexes does
depend on proper use of a rawhide-leather tongue.

I'm not sure what Jesus was talking about. Anybody who'd cast
squirrels - or pearls - before swine is a swine.

I'm afraid there are some things that Strauss boy left out of Wine,
Women And Song: Too often, the wine goes sour and the women start
screeching the wrong lyrics to the song off-pitch - the men simply
whine.

The meaning of life is hidden somewhere in its nonsense and you
simply have to be enough of a simpleton to find it.

Good tongue-in-cheek aphorisms should resemble stilettos: be short,
sleek, glittering, bold but sly, smoothly quick and lethal.

God is everywhere, rather like an epidemic, with no reliable cure and
very little chance of going dormant or into remission.

Considering the effort to which they'll go to be inclusive, you might say
that liberals are 'stretchables' of philosophy, religion, values and politics,
or 'limberals'. Environmentally in particular, conservatives are'tights'
who'd choke the life out of the neck on an anorexic swan, then ridicule it
for being bulemic if the poor thing happened to puke before croaking.

Social sanitation eventually leads to social disease.

Yahweh looked down at Jesus about to get his ass nailed and
sighed, "God, it sure is hard to get good help these days!"

Love, joy and grief are never raincoat flashers or peeping toms
because they never need to feed on voyeurism and don't require
exhibitionism to rightfully expose themselves.

Be a selectively promiscuous environmentalist: forget tree-hugging
and kiss as many knotholes as you can. They'll likely return the love
with sappy gratitude.

It seems unlikely that men will ever win the endless battle of the
sexes, since women are experts in guerilla warfare, rarely dodging
the strategy of hit, run and hide. But then, it's hard to say what
might happen if the men made a small change in 'gorilla.'

It's beneath a lot of men to love women as their equals. Gender-
inequality always has been the most potent love-potion in history -
for the men, that is.

The most consistent, enduring and influential state of Christian
grace has always been the state of denial.

Cleanliness is close - real close - to neurosis; god is the most
neurotic entity ever nightmared into existence.

Sure, hope springs eternal, then calculates the odds and jumps off the nearest bridge.

Because they gave birth, gals in ancient times were
considered goddesses - until guys realized they helped them make
babies, the key that let Pandorkzilla out of the box.

Disco joints are where the congenitally frustrated pretend to be
having a good time making the motions of copulation and not getting
any further. The moral of that is, go ahead and pretend to be happy:
shit happens!

It might right a few wrongs if people took a few more lefts.

Nietzsche, the wit, quipped, 'God's dead'. Contentiously, a twit
quibbled, 'Nietzsche's dead'. Get over it, already! They're both
pushing up daisies from six feet under!

New-agers are too good to stand out in a crowd, though I wouldn't
trust their humility any farther than I could toss a skunk across a
gutter-full of the world's best perfume by the tail, and even that's
a bit far.

Truth usually is plain though frequently ugly, because nobody wants to
look it in the face. The preference by far is to put a bag over its
head and fuck it.

I may be a little senile and I may be a little infantile, but boy, am
I ever having fun!

And then there was the headline about the couple hitting the sidewalk
after falling out of a tenth floor window while fighting: 'HUSBAND
AND WIFE DIE DURING MARITAL SPLAT.'

Dude ranches? Are those where gay chaps wear leather and ride each
other into a lather? Whoa, dude!

What about the cowboy-wannabe gynecologist who kept yelling 'giddy
up, ride 'em, yeehaw' while his patients were in the stirrups? - to
say nothing of the gynecologist so cross-eyed that he couldn't quite
get the gist of his patients' genitalia and was slapped in the face
with a need for resorting to gynecology by number.

The food chain is nothing really but a huge, descending order of
assholes, the only difference between them being, the farther up, the
bigger the asshole.

The abnormality of life actually is quite normal, the problem being
normality screwing things up for the abnormality.

Moses hated women, fucked sheep and became the Father Eternal of
*,** syphilis.
* (based on an old folk belief that shepherds having sex with sheep
was the origin of syphilis)

I've known some sanitized personalities with a monotonous reek / streak of purity about them - rather like sewage treatment plants, as comes to mind.

Perhaps it's due to the blessing of gravity that going down on
somebody is so completely natural. Going up puts a crick in your
neck.

Nine *beautiful things about George Bush II: 1 - He could pay his
mama less-than-minimum wage to shave off his eyebrows and use
them to make clothes for the jobless and thread-bare: 2 - George
makes America a brighter place because there definitely are a
thousand points of light in his radiant grins (it's just that
nobody's exactly sure where in his coordinated smirks): 3 - He could
be a scientific blessing since neurologists could use him to research
poor eye-to-hand/foot coordination: 4 - He'd get a lot of attention
as a pitchman in pretzel commercials: 5 - He could do community
service demonstrating to kids how NOT to ride bicycles (maybe): 6 -
He might be successful as a pitchman in commercials for training
wheels: 7 - While it's far from certain, he could possibly be a hit
advertising tricycles: 8 - He'd probably be at his most brilliant
starring as an end-of-time terrorist for the right-wing god in how-to
mother-of-all-apocalypse videos titled "Hallelujah!: George Brings
Jesus Back!" (while there wouldn't be "Hallelujah!: George Brings
Jesus Back II!" since the world supposedly would be about to go up
in a heavenly inferno, though nobody would give a "saddam" if he
screwed the videos up royally): 9 - A lot of the homeless sleep under
bushes anyway, so until Jesus comes again, leave George's eyebrows
(eye-bushes) intact and they could be used to provide affordable
housing as faith-based charity (oops! - that might be stretching it
since he'd probably be a faith-based slum-lord!).
* (potentially)

In a perfect world, broccoli would taste exactly as it already does
and be liked by those *smart enough to eat it.
* (dedicated against George Bush Sr.)

Being a successful criminal requires brazenly bold humility... blind
arrogance eventually gets you caught.

A sadist is much, much happier up the creek without a paddle than
down it without a masochist to paddle.

There's a saying that 'Americans are always in a hurry to nowhere'.
That's reasonable, but ignores one thing: the fits of road-rage on the
way.

If you're unpopular and still want to have a go at a triumphal entry
into Jerusalem, try a Harley Davidson: It's hard to get away from a
mob on your ass.

It's inevitable that hookers are addicts: they make a livelihood
smoking joints.

Self-absorbed people are afflicted with chronic bowel impaction
because their heads are absorbed by their asses.

What happens if god isn't loitering along still waters or stuffed
away somewhere in the silence, but is a loud roar we simply can't
hear above all the noise we make about her, him or it? Well, drop a
few letters from she, he and it and what do you have? - the last part
of "oh, shit!"

Take the measure of most people and you'll find that their feet will
definitely fit in their mouths.

A true sinner never feels guilty.

For the life of me I can't figure out who should be my hero unless
that's me.

You can neither teach old dogs new tricks nor keep the elderly hounds
from turning them - or trying to.

There's nothing, absolutely nothing that distinguishes Americans from
spoiled brats, and certainly nothing distinguishing them as distinguished brats.

Life is little more than a pedantically prosaic orgy of pedestrian
redundancy.

Old Testament sons weren't allowed to lay their mothers, though there
apparently was nothing against sons balling them to death with stones
if good ol' mom committed adultery with someone else.

I have known foolish consistency to be the hobgoblin of some small
minds, plain inconsistency the hobgoblin of some fried eggs.

I was so deviant that I was able to stop being deviant, a helluva lot
more than you can say for all those non-deviant slobs out there.

There's a reason people cry at weddings and funerals: because
weddings last only until the divorce, while funerals signify the
marriage of now to forever along with a divorce from earthly
existence.

All women are double agents.

It's okay to be arrogant, just don't flaunt it.

Ninety-five percent of the people in the world have such an
irrational fear of committing some terrible, imaginary sin that they
go through life as though walking on eggshells; most of the other
five percent of the people are the eggshells except a few just
happening to be "local yolk-els."

A truly godly person is anyone who lives better than the rules of any organized religion.

The only eternity we have is the second immediately following the
previous one and right before the next one.

Despite one of history's most popular and its most controversial
novel, as well as a movie to the contrary, The Da Vinci Code's
complicity theory really is a conspiracy of insignificant
mendacity compared to the real deal: Jesus ultimately
did survive the cross. God, in his all-fore-seeing wisdom, moved
Joseph of Arimethea to shell out a helluva lot more than thirty
pieces of silver for Judas Priest and The Rolling Stones to perform a
rockin' Early Sunday Morning Tomb Concert loud enough to blast the
stone away from the tomb's mouth and Jesus straight out of rigor
mortis. However, Judas Priest always held a grudge against Joseph of
A. since their music alone was enough to scare the devil into and out
of anyone, and the bejeezus out of death itself. The Rolling Sones,
by contrast, were quite satisfied since they felt their music always
performs the miracle of never leaving stones or bones unmoved.
Luckily for him, Marylin Manson, The Anti-Christ, was moved to joy
since the resurrection brought back an opponent Manson came within
100-some decibels of losing forever - God, after all, does shirk
in mytherious ways his wonders to perform.

As dedicated spelunkers, it's no wonder narcissists are stuck *on
themselves. They can't appreciate anybody else because they have
their heads explored (stuck) so far up their butt holes as to lose
themselves in the wonder and beauty of those particular caverns.
Incapable of superficiality, however, attainment of such depth blocks
their view of what assholes full of themselves they are.
* (in)

It's okay to talk to yourself; heck, it's even okay to you argue with
yourself as long as you aren't so confused you can't tell if you're winning or losing - why confusion might be preferred in the first place.

Puppet-king George Bush's eyebrows always look considerably more
surprised than his mind has ever been active. And the puppet isn't
made from the wood of any known tree, but petroleum-based plastic
that'd pollute the air with toxic fumes if ever torched. Despite
that, there's never been a light under his eyebrows and his brain has
never been a burning bush. Beyond that, the furrows in his brow
always look fake; the smirk never does. And there's something of a
convoluted, a very convoluted reassurance in knowing the puppet's for
real.

How horrifying it'd be to live in a nightmare where you can't tell
the real puppets from the fakes!

Quote of the day for the male half of traditional couples: Love is a
chemical imbalance - you're the chemical, she's the imbalance, that
is if you're man enough to admit you're fertilizer worthy of *honey
wagon distribution.
* (manure spreader)

I once saw a huge building used for religious worship with a shopping
mall in its basement, representing the three great pursuits of those
with nothing better or more moral to do: The pursuit of greed, the
pursuit of god - and scurrying around looking for bargain basement
discounts on everything including any god that'll bless the pursuit
of greed.

Marriages and divorces without at least a few fights are as insipid
as overcooked parsley-and-celery pate - if there are such things as
such marriages, divorces or pate.

Arnold Schwarzenegger is gaudily overdone with muscles everywhere but
above the neck.

What's great about burial at sea is not having to pay for a mortician
and embalming fluid, to say nothing of a weepy-eyed organist, a
sappily warbling singer and a preacher intoning inanities over your
expensive casket. Then, there's the ride to an oblong dirt-hole in a
kill-joy buggy euphemized as a hearse. At sea, hell, they guzzle
fifths turning into sixths of whiskey, wrap you in canvas at least
three sheets into the wind, take unerring aim at the ocean over the
railing, let fly with your body and leave sharks to do the rest while
octopi get all gushy and gooey within the embrace of each others
tentacles and whales give blow-jobs to the air above you - that's a
funeral.

It's a means to an end, an astonishing feat of cranial-to-anal
agility that self-important people are able to measure their IQ by
the size of their lower ends fulfilled by the upper - and without
much practice, either. Oddly, that doesn't require a smidgen of head-
shrinking, by or for psychologists and psychiatrists.

The more pity for him, it well could be that God's a one-dude conspriracy, and a poorly-organized one with its cover completely blown - at best.

Jehovah was history's first rage-killer, except he let the righteous do all of his dirty work.

I have a sneaking suspicion that golf was concocted because guys
can't play with their own balls - at least not in public,
particularly since what they tee-up with in private so
often is smaller than what they stroke around eighteen holes.

Homophobia isn't compatible with real masculinity since it takes
a real man to love another man, real or not, whether they boink
each other or not.

Life might not be your mother, but she is a bitch.

I'm the least impressed by people who try impressing themselves
by trying to impress other people.

It's just a friggin' shame that macho men can't perform auto-fellatio
a lot more. That'd keep them from bragging about their manliness
while they admire their manhood from very close range - especially
since they wouldn't need pacifiers although their circle of life and
love does begin and end at the nipple.

It's been a rather pretty progression: First we belonged to a simian-
like race evolving into the human race, followed by the rat race
perhaps taking us back where we started - except that simians and
most rats are too smart for that.

Allen Ginsberg saw the best minds of his generation destroyed by
madness while I saw the best of madness destroyed by my generation.

God lives upstairs with the birds, and you know how loony they are.

I have and know one truth: "I Am That I Am."

Those with a primary destiny of greatness usually have a secondary
one of sorrow.

The preponderance of my experience is that charismatic Christians
appear to learn charismatic from Tasmanian devils.

Disgusting as it is, familiarity isn't entirely to blame, since
contempt is a promiscuous tart always on the look-out to be bred.

Not to invoke even a suggestion of a necrophilia, some gals truly
are dead end pieces of ass.

I don't know everything, just half of it, and the other half isn't
worth the trouble.

Money is the root of all evil incurable by money, or caused by the
love of it.

Even in the depths of desperate loneliness, it might not be wise to
lie down with fleas in the hope of rising with a cuddly, warm and
friendly dog in your arms.

The only communality between Hemingway and great literature are
words.

The highway of life should be littered with the flat tires of all
attitudes, beliefs and ideas worth less than the nails of reality
capable of puncturing them.

Little wonder it is that oral sex with hookers is so expensive: it
blows your wad.

Unfortunately, homophobic men too often wear women to avoid any
suggestion of homosexuality inversely to the way they don't wear
condoms to prevent the spread of disease. Most sadly, that results in
transmitting the infection of male sexism. Most happily, however, are
some women tiring of use as scum-bags - by misogynistic scum-bags.

The environment and everything else would be safer if everyone
realized that prayer - as piously indulged by organized religion - is
nothing but noise pollution, a thoroughly fraudulent racket.

Whether criminal or not, an American's usually at the end of the
paper trail otherwise qualifying as a string of greenback litter.

If you have trouble expressing yourself, you can only hope to be a
brilliant mind stumbling over great thoughts. Short of that, it might
be best to remain silent as a beautiful mind lost in thought.

Willful ignorance is the viagra that allows irrationality to have
erections - and breed.

Ants may well have more of a collective, and probably a higher
consciousness than Americans, because the very word 'collective' is
too communist for Americans too drunk on capitalistic materialism to
be conscious.

"Death hath no sting" like the scorpions of bills sent by funeral
homes to the loved ones of the deceased before anyone can squash
those suckers with the biggest shoe in the house.

Want to get closer to god? Pay more attention to
your mutt. God is your dog ass-backward, minus loyalty, patience,
house-training, a license and a leash, as well as rabies and
distemper shots - not necessarily in that order.

Stalin took a swipe at looking like a Hun godfather, without a
famiglia; Churchill perfected the image of a disgruntled mastiff
without a leash and George Washington a French chef without the hat
or a cook book, a success equaled by Reagan looking like a stoned
party-crasher minus the party - upstairs or anywhere else.

Brown-nosing is perfectly legitimate since everybody needs a guide to
the top, even if the guide is an ass. Besides, it should cut down on
food bills since there's always a snack on hand.

The literary scene really is quite ugly. Authors hope to write books
that'll attract mountains of worms whether or not they produce mounds
of decay, which many of them do.

Laugh with, not at others and you'll be at less risk of people
thinking you're a joke everybody should laugh at.

Not to be overly myoepic, optimistic or ultra-simplistic, but maybe
the only, best and simplest answer to life's riddle is no answer at
all.

It'd seem it's no b. s. that the baby Moses' life wouldn't have been
saved if the pharoah's daughter hadn't had b. o. and needed a bath.

Dying seems an unavoidable requirement of living and living of dying
since you can't die until you've lived, kind of a circumstantial pun
of reality. And how cheap the pun is depends all upon how you live -
and die.

We tend to define other people in terms of ourselves, including our
fears, weaknesses and other shortcomings. We love dreaming that our
opinions are mirrors of others, while in truth our opinions are
naught but dreams mirroring none but ourselves.

Constructing an inflated ego is relatively cheap and simple,
primarily requiring a wind bag and all the hot air generated by the
bag.

The only possible salvation for a wind-bag is acupuncture.

Despite a belief or not in preordination and unluckily for everyone,
too many Christians are predestined to be dishonest, the stuff of
inspired revelation focused by blinders on eyes of the soul. With
20/20 vision like that, no wonder such Christians don't need
corrective lenses, much less deep space probes to see straight into
heaven and right past God on his throne glaring down in cross-eyed
judgment upon the less-dishonest.

Guilt is blackmail of the emotions.

Acting self-important is a very self-gratifying waste of time.

In general, marriage not only is a sanctified joining of hearts, but
an unholy union of heaven and hell.

It appears that genuine goodness is partly a product of overt naivete
and outright stupidity.

For some Americans these days, instant gratification is last week's
stale news leaving them strung-out and having no idea what to do with
gratification bypassing gratitude to arrive before they even know
what they want - but throw fits in demanding.

A fully functional personality requires a blasphemous touch of sin and any
redemption thereof is dysfunctional blasphemy.

Considering that female mechanics tighten things with wrenches, is it
okay if they do some wenching, or does that mean they have loose morals that
need wrenching?

Considering the foundation of their beliefs upon a couple of big wood
sticks at right angles to one another, it's little wonder some
Christians are a wee bit cross.

Expect nothing when life's going bad, everything when it's going
good, and an average of expectations might be fulfilled somewhere in
between.

God and hatred are the mutually interchangeable luxuries of necessity
which the self-righteous are more than happy to indulge themselves
with, by throwing sulky, even dangerous, violent and deadly temper
tantrums of morality.

I've always wondered what it'd be like to be envious of someone.
Naturally, I could be envious of myself - just seems a bit obvious,
though an otherwise enviable and viable option.

Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall give you the ''oh,
shits!''

Love is great - when it works... otherwise it's a junkyard.

I doubt us humans as competent to determine whether or not life has
any meaning, and certainly not what is the meaning of its meaning
- provided there is any.

Maybe the best epitaph you could have is that 'he / she made living
look easy', with a lot of hard work.

There's no such a thing as mind over matter, only matter over matter,
the fact of the matter and all that matters no matter what your mind
makes of the matter.

The quality of irrationality is rarely strained. It's usually boundless and a lot worse then hemorrhoids because it virtually never shrinks.

Organized religion is child-molestation.

Truth is notoriously pig-headed, never recognizing what anyone
believes - or doesn't, as it blithely dances toward destiny.

If a lack of knowledge and willful ignorance are the true measure of
intelligence, a good half or more of the world's people are half-wits
- or less.

Answers don't necessarily answer anything, and life would be a
flat-liner if they did.

The Christian God thrills to fanning the flames of his hell, where he
likely belongs and already should've been the first arrival.

There's the old saying about "killing the messenger if you don't
like the message''. Yeah, but why sling arrows of misfortunte at the
poor message when it'd be so much fun knocking-off that smarmy little
messenger boy?

There's no greater pervert than someone with a shortage of inner
demons. We might have an envious admiration for, yet loathe and fear
the fearless considerably more than we do the self-indulgent
security blanket of insecurity and fear itself.

Self-happiness is precisely what inspires me to happily become an even more happily
better person.

H. L. Mencken said that "sin is a dangerous toy in the hands of the
virtuous". While not meaning to squabble with the dear boy, my
experience is that virtue in the same hands is every bit as
dangerous, perhaps even more.

Have you ever noticed there's one Commandment for each finger? -
fortunately as far as either God or Moses could count without more
oxygen due to the altitude of heaven and Mt. Sinai - unless the
problem was genetic.

In truth, Americans hate themselves, therefore one another and
everybody else.

George Bush II doesn't talk softly but does swagger and carry a big
stick up the butt. No one's stopped to think that he's a self-
impaling worshiper of Saddam (Sodom/sodomy) when they've noticed him
walking funny; they've just presumed he's a devolutionary descendant
of a right-wing ape. Come to think of it, even a right-winged ape
wouldn't deserve insulting characterization as George's *daddy, not
even Saddam.
* (because of George Walker Bush's statement that "Saddam tried to
kill my daddy'')

Self-pity is arrogance.

If you believe The Shroud of Turin, Jesus was radioactive - no
serious stretch of faith considering that he came into the world
because his virgin mama got zapped by the Holy Ghost. That being the
case, one catechismal question should be: Does radioactive
intercourse equal the immaculate conception, or was that a mutation?

America was founded by social misfits from elsewhere and Americans
have been having fits trying to fit in - somewhere - ever since.

There are any number of people who don't qualify as first-rate fools,
just first-class idiots.

There might not be a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, though
you'll never know unless you follow it to a squat and a dump.

Step on a high enough shit-pile and you might arrive in heaven. Swing
from a sky-rope (hook) and you'll likely land in hell.

Any society has reached a critical point when it's acquired enough of anything that it can derive perverse enjoyment from disposing of it.

I have a grave notion that a prehistoric, but intelligent woman
scientist invented something truly useful, like the pendulum, after
observing the swaggering sway of male Neanderthals' torsos -
a. k. a. primitive, very primitive bob dolls.

The world is run by unhappy people, one reason it operates as well as
it does - and not a whimper or whine better.

Nowadays, historical fiction without at least a few lies is
less-marketable than the Bible chock full of them.

Wisdom is fluent in the language of discreet silence and only fools
need translation.

That dogs are a girl's best friend is proven when some girls return
the favor.

Its substance is of the same tempature, since some, if not all, machismo has the toughness of high-summer whirlwinds prancing around the Sahara Desert in sand skirts.

Good dancing requires sensuality lubricating a fluid butt and the
freedom of an open horizon despite the avenue of perspective.

It frequently is a failure, though prurience was invented and touted
as an antidote to pornographic boredom.

Much of American advertising is neither straight nor gay, just
promosexual.

There's definitely a redneck similarity between "yeehaw" and "jihad."
And the similarity ain't merely phonetic, neither.

Occasionally you run into people so empty-headed that you can be sure
they say an entire hole-full whenever their mouths simply happen to
fall open.

God insists upon hogging all the sympathy to himself, and (orthodox
Christian) prayer therefore is one of the least effective but most
common ways of people feeling sorry for themselves.

I knew a man who, in divorce court, was creative enough to refer to
his extramarital girlfriend as 'back-up.'

It's always best to be stabbed in the front because that makes it
easier to evaluate your stabbers' surgical skills... and if they do a
bad stab-job, you can sue 'em for malpractice.

Laughing is a good sense of humor breaking wind. Coughing is the
breath scratching an inner itch of the lungs, and for healthy-minded
smokers, laughing, farting and coughing are interchangeably
medicinal.

Happiness depends upon the drug-dealer inside your head.

It should be easy to ignore assholes. Beyond that - while it might only be
wishful thinking - you'd master the art of living if you could
make the assholes do the sucking rather than the other way around.

The lyrics to most songs actually are nothing but mutually
opinionated slop exhibitionistically slobbering all over something
called love - or God. And to tell the truth, it's nearly impossible
to tell the difference between love, slop and The Divine Presence.

I've always had a thing for oral sex, which is why I'm always smiling
in orgasmic bliss, because life sucks. But then, I figure a poor suck-job
is better than none at all.

The doctrine of original sin itself is sin because it separates
humanity from its wholeness (holiness).

No wonder God stinks. His remains never made it into the cooler and
were around for centuries before Nietzsche finally declared him dead.

Make damn sure not to wear the shoe if it fits, but hurl it with
enough force that it'll maybe hit and fit someone else.

If you're not getting older, there's something wrong with you.

There's nothing like the furious wrath of a woman scorned, except a
pair of cats hanging from the clothesline by their tails tied
together - the difference being roughly the same.

Philosophers are theoretical coroners, filing death certificates for
everybody's theories but their own, while they have the gall to
splutter over everyone else having the gall to think that
philosophy's dead.

When ''the fool saith in his heart, there is no God'', that's God
talking to himself. However, it'd be a real tragedy how confused he'd
become if he argued with himself until he proved himself wrong. An
even greater tragedy would be him losing the argument. Fortunately,
he'd at least be somewhere in the same disaster zone as the truth.

Clothes might or might not make the man, but never a human.

According to one congenial view, humans are animals with a
conscience - although they are animals...

That old crap about contemplating the navel is complete hogwash. The
only proper way to meditate is to sit and wait for the other shoe to
drop, then relieve residual, pent-up aggression by throwing the shoe
at whoever the hell dropped the damn thing.

Though Americans would never admit it, they demand the aristocratic
privilege of feeling superior whenever it suits them, while the rest
of the time they live in the democracy of mediocrity - that is, under
threat from the shadow of theocracy.

The reason O. J. Simpson hired the Dream Team? He was innocent only
in his dreams.

Feeling no pain? Then you're dead. It ain't pretty, though one good,
but convoluted thing about pain is letting you know you're still
malingering in the crazy house of life, good news which sometimes is
less comforting than paranoid schizophrenia and a migraine
headache - combined.

By 'assume', despite the old saying, it's impossible to know who's
the 'ass', 'u' or `me' though `u' come first.

When it comes to their personal non-relationship with rationality and their opinion of Lucifer, one could deduce that Christians consider logical people to be Deducifers.

I'm an anti-theologian.

A fulfilled life is a constant series of resurrections.

The unpredictability of the outside weather would be more tolerable
if there was less unpredictable inclemency inside people.

Whistling has four functions: practicing your lungs, exercising
your lips, blow-jobbing bad moods and irritating as many other people
as you can in the process.

Indulging moral paranoia and delusions of grandeur are hobbies God
religiously pursues instead of having a real religion or real career.

Watch long enough and you'll see that preachers hit harder with some
sermons than others, with some sermons even making U-turns to hit
turbulence in a lot of hot air. Pay attention, you might even see a
few pillars of fire, or dust-devils, as the case may be.

The proper, modern term for mob lynching and mass stoning of people
to death? - group therapy.

George Bush Sr. doesn't like broccoli and Dan Quayle maybe not a
certain food with a name he couldn't spell. But how can you blame
him? Who'd want to eat a vegetable ending with ''toes''?

I respect humanity too much to believe that religion makes it even
half a prayer better than it'd be without it.

Life without some problems would be totally piss-ass worthless.

It might be a toss-up whether it's better to be pussy-whipped or dick-
whipped, though there always are wishy-washy types who'll settle for
either or both.

At least you have to say one thing for Casanova: he had all of his
fucks in a row.

Many times, it ultimately is a matter of chaos disintegrating into a
state of order when marriage deteriorates into divorce. That's an
evolutionary triumph of decay at its best.

Change is only as startling as you are static.

You probably shouldn't advertise your humility - then again, why the
hell not?

I've often wondered if the Bastille wasn't stormed because of a batch
of bad breakfast bagels for which the upper classes wouldn't refund
the revolutionary rabble, that being an economic dissecting of the
situation. A fine arts approach might be that the rabble was driven
to a riot-frenzy by someone playing a bad, off-pitch *bagatelle. A
culinary hypothesis, however, might be that the bastion just as well
could've fallen because of a batch of fallen cakes, while the
biblical stance definitely would be that Paris was a modern Babylon
of fallen women. A more comprehensive economic, artistic, culinary
and biblical theory might be that the Bastille fell because Paris was
a Babylonic bastion of upper class bastards; bad breakfast bagels;
bad, off-pitch bagatelles, fallen cakes and fallen women - not at all
intending to bastardize Marie Antoinette's reputation.
* (short piece of music)

George Washington was incapable of telling a lie, Nixon of telling
the truth, Reagan of telling the difference, and the Bush boys of
knowing there's any truth to begin with.

Love rarely seems merely a game, though very few have the courage to
call it nuclear war.

Shutting yourself out is no big deal, unless you shut yourself out of
yourself.

It's not often that you see idiocy thumbing a ride from humility.

God's Forever Acres Eternity Resort would be perfect if one sin per
week were allowed, starting with the infraction of murder and working
up to telling bleached lies or the heinous crime of coveting your
neighbor's bleached-blonde angel. But it'd seem the latter would be a
bitch much for more than just one week, even if those randy resort lizards
coughed up the right price. But then, there's nothing quite like celestial
money-skanks.

Jewelry and mystery belong together, like women and daggers.

Not many things are worse than an addiction to happiness, except the
symptoms of withdrawal from discontent.

Some people scoff at the idea that everybody is born with an inner
divinity because they were born as an abortion thereof. And can you
imagine? - some of those same people even have a divinely-inspired
opposition to abortion.

One dark, impenetrable fact of life is the occasional denizen of red
light districts a guy would need a red badge of courage to penetrate.

God created himself in his own image and made his only mistake ever
of not asking for a refund on his creation.

I have nothing more to say about Democrats because I'm too good to
talk about myself, while I'll definitely shut up about the
Republicans since they have nothing even worth gossiping about.

Richard Nixon was a rather smart boy, except that his brains too often got in the way of his brains.

I'm neither gay nor straight, just bent.

There's a very ancient and obscure myth, that the birth of lightning
and thunder occurred in reverse order the first time a dinosaur
managed the scorching experience of belching and farting at the same
time, with such frictional force that the sky temporarily caught on
fire.

Different isn't necessarily perverted, but helps.

George Bush II might be worthy of assassination if it wasn't for the
overhead cost of a bullet. Investment in any number of bullets for
Dick Cheney probably should be considered a business
deduction and tax write-off.

And you say that fucking is romantic? Well, if nature intended for
guys to say "I love you" while screwing, it would've put women's ears
where their lips are, which would mean the complete destruction of
good blow-jobs.

It sometimes seems that life itself is a perversion, or I'd say screw
guilt if it wasn't such a terrible piece of ass.

I'm not perfect, but would be unavoidably unable to help it if I was.
Until that happens, I probably should settle for striving to be a
masterfully wretched failure of imperfection.

It'd seem the bowels of mercy are relatively loose if its quality is
never strained, apparently suggesting some kind of diarrhea.

God was completely stumped on the creation of life until he happened
to *bang into evolution, and from there steadily devolved into the
compost pile.
* (as in big)

God would be a helluva lot nicer if his boobs were a helluva lot
bigger.

The ultimate definition of erectile dysfunction and / or frustration:
a gay football player that can't quite punch it into the end zone.

Supposedly, there's meaningful value in power-walking and power-
napping, though power-talking so often seems little more than
meaningless jaw-flapping.

It tells you something about humans that their most tireless muscles
are their mouths and their dicks.

Often, love is little more than an impure luxury simply making it
more or less pleasant to perpetuate the species. Pure lust, now,
perpetually is an absolute pleasure and necessity.

Masochism is pure religion, sadism pure entertainment, and both fit
bedfellows for the other.

A woman is considerably more powerful without clothes than without
confusion.

I've never had to drop out because I never dropped in.

In some ways, life seems little more than a constant tug-of-war
between congenital rivals: The brain and the butt hole. And too
often, the latter wins because it's generally fuller, therefore
heavier, and has a lower center of gravity.

A scientifically illuminating experiment: Get a crab in trouble and
see if his ass is crabgrass.

Organized religion requires a particular talent for perversion.
Christianity is inbred sin. Incest is several shades of bleached
beyond ghostly pale by comparison.

Suffering sexual frustration seems likely for animal rights activists since they likely cow to guilt over choking the chicken and have orgasms only during climactic fits of self-rightest and righteous indignation. Almost saddest of all, it seems likely they rarely find therapeutic value even in petting the pussy. And under such stress it's surprising they don't abuse themselves more often, leaving one question: Would that qualify as animal abuse?

It's a common, but unadulterated genius that'll leave you speechless with amazement insofar as so many people talk too much to say a damn thing.

The clearest vision often is from a distance and the best way to understand kids is to not have any. Parenthood pokes you in the eye.

Technology will fabricate a soul for you if you don't have one, though there's nothing really divine about technological spirituality except gossiping, busy-body wi-fi chatter. Therefore be ye a techno-atheist and refuse to worship *the ghost in the machine.
* (borrowed from the poet David D'Zormier)

About the only intellectual cohesiveness a lot of people have is the toxic, stinking superglue of the herd mentality scarcely qualifying as intellectual, nothing but a reeking, low-brow tar pit of consistently tacky opinion.

As Oscar Wilde said, 'There is nothing in the world like the devotion of a married woman'' - except that of a dog, unless the dog is a faithless woman.

All the garbled lingo issuing from the Tower of Babel likely was a matter of spin-doctoring bad news with a wide variety of creative semantics. The parsed language of confusion always has been the native tongue of politics.

Beware the fellow who rotates his tires more often than his shorts, though the attorney who changes his briefs that often either is bad-assed or piss-ass poor as a lawyer.

Some people are dedicated to exercising their mouths whether or not they develop a muscular vocabulary not enhanced by the steroids of foul words and vulgarity in general.

It might be good to remember that 'important' is only a change of one letter and the absence of another from 'impotent.'

Think about it as you will, I've known a few women who were the finest never to walk the streets, but should've.

One of the most flaming pimples on the backside of humanity is all the complaining done over things not worth the bitch.

There supposedly is a slut-Madonna complex, though it seems a definite that the blond pop singer of "Like A Virgin" made it from virgin to slut but unlikely all the way from slut to Madonna.

You should feel sorry for canines without vermin-control collars having to howl the hound dog blues in the key of flea sharp minor.

Nature used to be naked, reveling in surviving the ravages of its own devilish whims. Due to us clothed animals, however, it now is raging against wearing the lethal garment of global warming, screaming for a return to the demonic glory of nakedness.

My religion is simply living.

Trust me, life's an experiment.

Why assume that God remained in charge of the universe after he created it? Once he was finished with the damn thing, he might've turned it over to the devil to run. I've always had a conspiracy
theory that god and the devil actually are in cahoots behind everyone's back - perhaps including their own.

It's great relief to realize that you don't have to be happy unless you want to.

I decided to commit the crime of being happy - and got away with it.

Far too many people need Jesus to love them instead of loving themselves - the way they also should their neighbor.

Sure, conservatives have a self, just not a higher one.

Rock 'n roll music has become such a narcissistic exhibition that all of it's stage personalities should always perform for audiences of mirrors in nothing but raincoats.

Unlike us humans, God was denied the privilege of spending his first three weeks of existence as a female, despite which he congenitally is quite bitchy.

Pastry-loving guys and lesbians have a chance of thinking they've found pie-in-the-sky if they're eating pie wet enough to reflect the sky, eating, they can only hope, without getting any hairs between the teeth whereupon the sky would be of absolutely no help.

The most important part of 'rose-tinted glasses' is the-at-least one ass looking through them.

Humans appear to be endlessly and stubbornly inane since they rely on an animal they think of as stubborn and dumb for the slang name of a body part, though the ass performs two of the most important functions in life: sitting and shitting.

With it stuffed up your ass is precisely the wrong time to get a swelled head, both of which precisely are always the case.

Self-pity is moral superiority's mother-in-law and lives in the same bailiwick (county).

Life doesn't tote a hankerchief for dabbing sentimental eyes, and neither resurrects golden ages nor revisits the good old days of glories past. Having said that, it's time to whip out the handkerchief. After all, you might see a resurrection-mirage of the Phoenix reflected in your tears before you cry yourself drier than the dust in a pharoah's tomb.

The rumor making the rounds in hell since the first Christmas is that the Sun of Righteousness is a real son of a bitch... not to insult the Virgin Mary.

I'm full of myself and the humblest person you'll ever know.

The coquettish thing about flattery is that - like women - it's so pleasantly dangerous.

Everything's an illusion, and who knows? - I might be the biggest illusion, or delusion, of all.

A good portion of Bach's music most closely resembles redundant echoes of castrated nothingness bouncing around in a rusty tin can.

The primal merger? Without the devil, god wouldn't make any money; without god the devil wouldn't have a publicity agent or any advertisement.

I've encountered the anomaly of a few people so sinless as to be blasphemous.

What's wrong with guys who are addicted pussy? They can't think outside the box.

An American is someone who swears whether or not he or she really knows how. Laudibly, however, that's something Americans normally learn despite themselves and the cussably damnable state of their education.

Use it in the properly low-class way and language can be such a delightfully punny thing.

It's not a burden of extra baggage to carry your tongue in your cheek. That way, in fact, it doesn't feel so heavy from the exhaustion of over-use.

Someone suggested that I take out an insurance policy on my prayers since they might not make it to God's ear - not a bad idea; using a megaphone would be pointless since nobody wants to get close enough to clean the wax out of his ear and crank up his hearing aid. And particularly since God won't do it himself, a registered letter would be just as bad since nobody wants to get close enough to stick it in his ear.

Without a certified professional in charge, love is a cranial laboratory overflowing with dangerous drugs, it being little surprise there are so many fatal explosions, beyond which you could say the
entire hootenanny is certified insanity.

In terms of their beliefs, many evangelical Christians are eager to out themselves - precisely why Jesus told 'em to pray in the closet.

Consenting homosexuality shouldn't be the closet-ghost of a skeleton - kind of hard to find a mouth and an asshole on one of those suckers!

If you want to quit living with your head in the clouds, stop farting.

To hell with the right hand not knowing what the left one's doing; for some people, the ass leads the way without the head having the slightest idea what's going on.

What the centurion at the crucifixion shoulda said? 'I got it nailed down'. What Jesus shoulda told the good thief? 'Sorry, my hands are tied'. What the Savior of mankind probably best left unsaid? 'Join me in a clap-along if you love Jesus' (though likely the only thing clapping would've been the cheeks of his donkey's butt).

Watch 'em: Punstahs tend to be gangstahs from da' verbal 'hood wid a budget deficit of class, where gumshoe dicktionaries aren't of any help and smart-aleck, mouth-off crime is committed at nearly every turn.

Some people are experts of self-projection- like god slopping himself all over the universe - and are in a condition of atheism since they also live in a state of denial.

Hopefully, homosexuality isn't gayness racked by devastating happiness - that'd be a real pain in the ass.

It'd have been the ultimate and infinitely inspiring triumph over the impossible. But the possibility that the universe finessed its way into existence out of a conspiracy of nothingness is infinitely more inspiring and satisfying than that it was the nicely-done cobble-up job of a divine cabal.

People always lie to themselves before anyone else and are themselves at risk of becoming living deceptions.

I'll proudly assert that I'm biased against bias.

It's worthy of consideration to ask whether 'the love of money is the root of all evil' or the love of evil the root of all money.

It's better to stub your toe than your head.

Those who are afflicted with judgmental attitudes are afflicted with attitudes of shame - about themselves.

Consistent small-talk tends to require a talent for gossip.

Jehovah was the kind of judge who held everybody in contempt of court.

Everyone should take their looks at face-value.

Although the Divine One's likely wasted on an addiction to Himself in an attempt to escape disappointment, thank God I was born neither fearful nor addictive enough to need him!

How do you define an anal-retentive proctologist? As a real ass-hole.

Better to be a cheap whore than an ignored whore - maybe!

We humans frequently do interesting things in lieu of treasuring our worth as humans, and thereby render ourselves less valuable.