XXVII / VIII / MMXI a.s.

WHY?

While standing at one of the SkyTrain Stations, waiting to get home, I noticed that every 5 or 6 trains or so, one would just scream through, and the announcement board said : TRAIN NOT STOPPING. Why not? It's going our way, it's empty, it can't go in any direction other than ours, so what's the problem? Its not like it needs a coffee break or a pee break or anything, its a machine, goddamnit! Then, when I finally get home, I'm sitting in the shitter, reading the product monograph for my latest prescription (I'm one of those who can't shit without reading something, and 'Lather, Rinse, Repeat' tends to get old real fast - plus I already know how it ends) and one of the side effects is 'impending feelings of doom'. Not really something you want to see on your bottle of tranquilizers.

So, I'm gonna take my tranquilizers and, now let me get this straight, take my tranks  and possibly experience one or more of the following: nausea, headache, restlessness, insomnia, dryness in mouth, abdominal pains, anxiety, or impending feelings of doom. Are these not most of the reasons I got on the fucking tranks in the first place?  

At least it gave me some insight as to why so many American women became suicidal on Prozac. It wasn't the drug itself, per se, but the fact that, as their outlook cleared, they came to the realization that : "I'm a 377 pound American woman with no education, no job, and 9 kids all living in a double-wide. Hon, pass me the squirrel gun, would ya?"

As always, Be safe.

TRS

Where is the Zodiac when we need him?

This offering to The Zodiac: Self-righteous, militant non-smokers. The ones who start coughing and covering their sour, pinched faces when they're still 60 feet away with the wind at their backs.  The ones with the horrified expressions, who pass by looking at me as though I were pointing an M-16 at their smug, pointy heads.  The ones who sit right next to me on the bench. The bench with the giant ash - tray at one end.   The bench with the giant ash - tray at one end that happens to be the only legal smoking area on that entire side of the mall.  And then have the nerve to say "Do you HAVE to smoke right  here?" Why, yes, actually, you brain-dead bundle of FUCK! And while I'm at it, why, in the name of Lucifer, would you oooze up and park your too-tight-to-even fart ass on an obvious smoking bench, between 2 or 3 equally obvious and currently active smokers, unless the entire exercise is simply meant to give you something to whine and moan about all day. Whats the matter ? Jerry Springer not on today? Nothing to bitch about at home? No gay inter-racial couple to set fire to? Get a life, you fucking pinheads, bitch about something real for once. Thanx for listening.
Be safe,
TRS

Where is the Zodiac when we need him?

XXVI / VIII / MMXI


Here it is: the first installment of  'Where is the Zodiac when we need him?' As usual, the list is in no particular order and I enthusiastically encourage you to send me your own recommendations. 

1. Ex's. I don't think this one needs any explanation. C'mon, there's a reason they're 'ex'.
2. 97% of the world's hypochristians. Again, clarification not required.
3. The entire Walton family.
4. Animal abusers (although I'd hope the Zodiac would let me do this one)
5. Lawmakers who dream up different laws and regulation for different social classes and ethnic origins.

                               

Til next time, stay out of the cross-hairs.

TRS

VIII /  XXVI / XLV

A few months back, MsAnthropy expressed the desire to spawn (after 12 years of blissful childlessness), so I began the arduous task of researching the marketplace in order to compare the latest available models, giving us the edge in what I must assume to be a highly competitive area.  Much to my dismay (and no small amount of growing uncertainty) nearly every style and make I observed was possessed of the same features - the most obvious being a high-pitched, shrieking, siren-like  sound emanating from the upper end of the unit. I had originally assumed this to be a factory defect in the rubbery hole in the lower anterior facet of the main sensory cluster housing, or, as one irate mother informed me, "that's my baby's HEAD, asshole!"  As there seems to be no permanent way to dampen or suppress this noise, I am forced to conclude that there exists some type of after-market kit to remedy the situation. 

Another common feature is the fascinating ability to hypnotize, mesmerize, or somehow cloud their parents minds to all the running through stores, howling, package ripping and general screaming  mayhem,  totally visible and audible to all but their handlers, or 'parents', as they like to be called.

Vivid, animated descriptions of these observed behaviors, with all the characters portrayed (more than acceptably, I might add), by myself, backed up with video footage taken in the field may evidently be sufficient incentive for MsAnthropy to spawn, and effectively swing her away from the 'Maternal instincts' and 'Bundle of Joy' side of the scale, and more comfortably towards the 'Let's get another kitten' end of things, without the need for a full scale simulation, (as I had feared). This comes as a great relief, I have absolutely no idea where a baby can be rented or leased. Hell, I don't even know the requisite protocalls needed to make an acceptably PC inquiry or offer on the temporary use of a stranger's offspring. 

And so, at least for now, the worst case scenario for my domestic existence is cleaning out the kitty litter box. And if that's the  worst case scenario, given the other option, (a scaled down version of me), then I, my friends, am one seriously happy FUCK.

As always, Be safe until next time.

TRS

Whaaaww! That last bit of venting got what’s left of my blood just screaming, so here I go again – more of the ‘Not So Happy’ list. Again, any semblance of priority or order is purely coincidental.

·        Idiots who argue that which they know absolutely NOTHING about, and then, upon realizing that they are wrong, rather than politely conceding, energetically re-double their efforts in a last ditch attempt to bury one in half-misquoted / half fabricated facts and horribly misused terminology. MassCool! Now you look twice as stupid as you did 20 seconds ago, and I, conversely, am twice as right as I was 20 seconds ago.  I guess that old Chinese fellow was right, and those idiots have, indeed, removed all doubt.

·        Pompous, pretentious twats who will find some way, no matter how ridiculous, to bring up Shakespeare, Hemingway, et al, in every single conversation they happen to engage in.  Arrogant, smug, pseudo-intellectual bastards trying to appear educated and well-read, thinking they can accomplish this by simply dropping a few literary monikers. Have fun with these self-important assholes: ask them which particular works they enjoyed the most. Ask them to actually NAME something by the authors. Ask them for a few quotes or notable passages. If they do manage to come out with a quote, nod knowingly for a moment, then say “Ah, yes! The ‘Classic Comic Books’ version!”

XII / XXI / XLV _A.S.

 Right. It’s been a while, but there’s been a lot of shit going on in RobScenity Land recently. Shit that I really don’t feel like mashing through with a fork just to see if there’s something salvageable hidden in it.  Instead – some more items from the ‘Not So Happy Thoughts’ list. As always, in no particular order and directed at no particular person or persons (you know who you are).

 

·        People who try to describe some type of food as “Tasting like chicken”. Odds are the gastronomic retard has never tried the food they’re attempting to describe. Why do I say this, you ask? Here we go: The only thing on this entire planet of ours that tastes like chicken is one of two things:

 

        I. More chicken, or

     II. A different chicken (but still a chicken).

I have heard the chicken comparison used to describe octopus, rattle snake, calf’s brain, alligator, kidneys, (to name but a very few) , and, having personally sampled all of them, can confidently report that NOT A SINGLE ONE of these foods tastes even remotely like chicken. At all. Not even the slightest resemblance. We’re quite clear on this one now? Excellent. Bon Appetite.

·        Xtian Death Metal. Yes, it really exists; I know you’re as stunned as I was when I first learned of its existence. One of the more idiotic of the people I work with (a hypochristian, it turns out) was stupid enough to tell me, a card carrying member of the Church of Satan, that he was into “Xtian Death Metal”, thereby giving me full permission to RANT & DESTROY. Xtian Death Metal? What? Wadda ya got?

“Got nailed to a stick”                             

(chuggachuggaCHUG)

“Then Dad let ‘em kill me”                     (chuggachuggaCHUG)

“Then you went and lost my body!!”      (chuggachuggaCHUG)

     (Guitar solo)

 

And that’s it. One death to sing about, and that was 2000 years ago! Get over it already, quit whining and write some new fucking material!!!

·        People who try to talk to me when I’m having a dump. There’s some very serious ‘Me Time’ going on here. If I wanted conversation, I’d shit with the fucking door open. Maybe set out a chair or two, just in case it’s going to be a while. Talking to me while I’m shitting is even worse than talking to me in a movie theatre because you didn’t even have to pay for a ticket to my shitter! MAYBE then, I’d listen. But only if you’d shelled out for an overpriced popcorn and a watered down Cola-like beverage substitute first.

More later. As always – Be safe.

The RobScenity.