Well, gang, Spring is almost upon us and, as we all know, that can mean only one thing: oh yeh - cooking outside!  Whether you have a tiny hibachi barely big enough to make burgers for two, or one of those chrome monsters with a hundred knobs, capable of roasting a  Buick, and we're not talking any of those new toy Buicks of recent years, oh HELL no! We are talking Buick Fucking Electra 225, the only non-Cadillac in history to ever be accepted world wide as a legitimate conveyance for those involved in the Pimping Sciences.  But regardless of the type of BBQ you plan to use, you will be, as I mentioned, cooking outside.  Outside is where I often find myself (when I haven't been paying attention), and so, in order to make being outside more pleasurable for me and mine, I have once again braved that twisted wasteland that is my brain to search for anything that might inspire all you outdoor chefs to hasten out of my way. And what could possibly provide sufficient incentive to send all the street chefs scurrying away with their hands desperately covering the ears of their ill conceived spawn, lest their little sensibilities be shattered? You guessed it - socially unacceptable lyrics!  And so, without any further french words, here we go!

Swing Time

I hope you die like a pig

At the slaughterhouse gate.

Hope you die like a refugee

Who starves while he waits

For a little bit of kindness

A single ray of hope

Don't look to me for that'

You're at the end of your rope.

And...

It looks like it's Swing Time

Psycho-billy Cheater's Song

There's a penis in my pants, and it sure ain’t mine.

Some other fella must have left it behind.

Gonna show it to my girl so I can see

By her reaction if the bitch is fuckin' round on me.

There's a penis in my pants that don't belong to me.

It fell out of my zipper when I went to pee.

Now, I know I'm not gay, so here's the score -

I guess that's what I get for goin' out with a whore.

It sure looks to me like my gal is cheatin',

But I decided to talk, instead of handin' her a beatin'.

Her answer nearly gave me a heart attack -

She'd found a cunt in her panties, so she's paying me back!

There, good enough for now, I doubt anyone has read down this far anyway, so, as always:

Be safe, and don't take any shit.

TRS

Own your own shit, wipe your own bum.

Right. Gonna fire off a couple quick lines, which is in some small way intended to excuse the horrific neglect I have heaped upon this innocent blog. And what I'd like to spew about is this: 

In 'The Before Times', where many of my friends and I grew up, if someone did something crappy, or got caught doing something wrong, they would react in the strangest way, in a way that confuses the fuck out of many of todays enlightened individuals. They would (are you ready for this?) - ADMIT THEIR MISTAKE , and ... AND ... ACCEPT FULL RESPONSIBILITY FOR THEIR ACTIONS!  

Now I realize that many of you will see this as plain old common sense, just something you don't need to be told, and it is you people who are, right this second, saying "Cool. RobScenity has snapped. He is babbling the glaringly obvious. We become bored with his antics."  And you would be both correct and justified, were it you I was addressing. It wernt. I'm not going to mention any names, nor shall I go into any detail on the 'incident' in question - you all know exactly who I'm referring to, and he knows who he is.  Wipe your own ass, own your own shit and stop spending all your time looking for someone to blame. It's you, dickhead. You are to blame. It's your fault, so it's time you grow a pair and man up. It's people like you that have ruined the way things used to work, and I, for one, feel your actions or lack thereof, warrant a good, old fashioned boot-fucking. Just for starters....

Until next time,

Be safe & don't take any shit.

TRS