Asmodeus' Astounding Circus (The Final Chapter)

Ah yes, long time, no see, everyone.  But I'm here now, for the moment, to delight and enthrall you all with the long overdue ending to a short series about a circus.  If you haven't read any of the installments or even if you need to re-read these fine, literary masterpieces once again to jog your memory on the storyline and characters...  Here are the following links to help you out in making even the slightest sense of past and present events and be entertained as all get out.  Woo hoo!

Auditions For The Circus

Second Round of Auditions For The Circus

Ringmaster Gregario excitedly went up to the circus ticket booth and asked, "So how many tickets have we sold for the big show?"

There was a line of adults and kids, eagerly waiting to step inside the big circus tent and be seated.

Trixie, who had before been a bubbly, beautiful blonde college girl went through a transformation, of sorts, after the circus owner, Asmodeus, escorted her away after her audition, many months ago and took the twenty something year old back to his own private mansion.

Being a demon (a fairly horny one, at that), Asmodeus had mesmerized Trixie with his charm and evil influence to seduce the giddy blonde.  Soon, Trixie found herself taking off her clothes, revealing her perky breasts and shaven pussy.  The demon circus owner took Trixie by the hand and easily grabbed her with one  powerful arm and tossed her on the bed.  For three nights straight, they fucked without a break.  The experiences Trixie endured caused her to almost lose her mind, completely.

Answering Gregario's question, Trixie slowly looked up from where she sat and said, with slow deliberation and with menace in her tone, "The fuckers just keep coming to see the show."

Trixie giggled slightly, seeming to change in her mood, grabbing a big wad of cash and sales receipts from her cash drawer and thrust it up towards the ringmaster's face.

"See?" Trixie asked.

Gregario nodded approvingly at what he saw before Trixie. Without warning, Trixie viciously grabbed Asmodeus' most trusted assistant by the crotch of his black pants with her free hand.

"AHHH!" screamed Gregario, quickly backing away from the ticket booth and Trixie's grasp.

Several customers looked where the scream had come from.  This got the attention of a pack of red eyed wolves.  Asmodeus' personal pets looked up from the half eaten human skull they had been gnawing on and growled toward the attendees.  Gonza, the large muscle-bound Head of Security came out of the side of the tent and confronted the customers.

"We have a problem here?" asked Gonza, threateningly.

The customers shook their heads, showing they had no problems, but were still very obviously shaking with fear.

An hour later, everyone was allowed to go into Asmodeus' Astounding Circus and take their seats.

A troupe of clown midgets entered from a hidden side room, in a multi-colored vehicle, with a pentagram sign on every side of the car.  The car stopped in the center of the stage.  One of the car doors opened.  Soon, The infamous Blutarsky Brothers came tumbling out.  All of them had bulbous heads, had extreme toe fungus and were mentally impaired.  The crowd let out various sounds of surprise.

Ringmaster Gregario walked up to the center stage, in front of the family of disheveled clown midgets and cried out, into his microphone, "Ladies, gentleman and children of all ages, it gives me a special kind of thrill to present to you the most amazing acts you'll ever witness in your lifetimes!"

Gregario waved his hand and pointed to the clown midgets that had painted faces.  Some of them were crossing their eyes and shaking their heads.  One had a permanent smile on his face.  Luscious, the member of the group who had undergone a botched sex change surgery, courtesy of one of "her" brothers and his handy knife, in order to become a man, stepped out in front of his brothers.  Luscious had tiny breasts, thanks to hormone therapy and a couple of sewn upon hairless gopher butt cheeks, but the vagina of the clown midget was far from perfect.

Tension and anticipation filled the air.

Isa, the eldest member joined her son, Luscious, who was dressed in a small, sparkly pink tutu.

The old ringmaster handed Isa, the mother of the 7 performing midgets, the microphone.

Isa announced, "My name is Isa, mother of my Russian babies, the ones you may know as The Blutarsky Brothers.  Tonight, we will show you our talents and you will soon gaze upon us with wonder.  Watch and fill your ugly American hearts with joy!"

With that said, Gonza brought in a handcuffed and shackled blubbery man in a size XXXL sweatsuit.  He was sweating, profusely, and had a collection of bruises upon his face.  Gonza thrust the obese man on his hands and knees.

Ringmaster Gregorio took a flask of whiskey from his back pocket, downed a swig from it and put it back in his pocket before explaining into his microphone, "This man was found to be attempting to sneak into the circus tent without paying."

Gregorio tipped his big black top hat toward the man as the man groaned in pain.

Continuing, Gregorio said, "This man will be given something special for his efforts."

The fat guy whimpered as Isa and Luscious took their places.  Both clown midgets lay on their backs on either side of the trapped man who Gonza securely chained to a metal platform.  Luscious spread open her legs and pulled the bottom of her tutu off, slinging part of the costume to the side.  She had a tattoo of a snake on her cunt lip.  Isa took off her polka-dotted, over-sized clown pants and spread her legs, in unison, with her son.  A few moments passed before Isa's legs rubbed furiously together, creating sparks of fire.  Luscious mimicked her mother's furious leg movements. Meanwhile, a fast moving stream of fire, much like a flamethrower, came shooting out of their cunts as their tiny legs furiously kicked up and down.

In awe, the crowd was spellbound and became perfectly silent as the gluttonous man's head began to catch afire.  He screamed in agony.  Gregorio, Gonza and the rest of the clown midgets laughed, heartily.  In only a few seconds, the man was totally engulfed in flames, shouting for mercy and receiving none.  Soon, his crispy corpse smoldered for a moment before crumpling into a stinking heap of ashen flesh.

Gonza and Gregorio shoveled the victims smoking remains in a nearby metal garbage vat.  What wasn't completely crispy would be fed to the hungry wolves, later.

Nervously, the crowd applauded, fearing what might happen if they did not show satisfaction of the clown midgets' amazing tricks.  One man, however, showed no fear and announced his displeasure.

The man, famous for his many quirky and comedic movie roles, stood up and said, "I don't think that was right."

Gregorio put down his shovel and picked up his microphone. Into his mike, Gregorio inquired, "And who might you be to think yourself capable of judging what's fair and what's not?"

The film actor stated, "Steve Buscemi, that's who."

Gonza quickly retrieved him from the stands.  Buscemi struggled, frantically, and groaned in protest, desperately trying to free himself of Gonza's mighty grip.

Buscemi was chained to the metal platform, begging to be released, promising to give them substantial amounts of money if they let him go.

A clown midget named Jeepo appeared, did a cartwheel in front of the actor and completed an admirable back-flip, flapping his arms like a bird, before coming down head first onto the metal platform and bashing his head in, making a clanging, crunching noise that could be heard from the stands.  A pool of blood gathered on the platform as Jeepo moaned.  One of his clown midget brothers, Trotsky, came out, pulled down his pants and scratched his taint before dragging his injured brother off the stage.

Ivan, another clown midget performer, came running out.  Stretching his arms outward, Ivan stood still and shouted, "Ta-Da!"

Ivan turned around and looked at the chained actor in the middle of the stage.  The clown midget slapped his face, for comic relief and made a tiny "O" with his mouth to appear as if he was surprised at the actor's predicament.

Without hesitation, Ivan pulled his gigantic pecker from his neon green clown pants and pointed it toward Buscemi.

Ringmaster Gregorio asked the audience, "So do ya think Steve is going to have to do some suckin'?"

The audience collectively gasped.  Buscemi's eyes grew wider than they ever had gotten during the filming of his past movies.

Abruptly, Ivan took a firm hold of his meat sword and quickly shot bullets from his pee hole.  Each bullet went through Steve Buscemi's head as if it were made of facial tissue.  Blood and fleshy bits flew everywhere.  In a matter of seconds, there was nothing sitting on the actor's shoulders but a deformed pulp of bloody mush and some bits of skull mixed in.

The wolves rushed in, eyes red and glowing, and ate most of the actor's body, tearing his corpse apart.

Trotsky and another brother, Dragoff, came running out with their tarp.  Some audience members chuckled at the sight of their little legs moving so quickly.  Both brothers threw the tarp on Buscemi's disgusting remains and ran back where they came from, doing the occasional cartwheel, along the way.  Everyone applauded their comical antics.  Trotsky raised his leg and cut a fart so loud and with such force, the back of his  little clown pants exploded.

Unable to resist the current spotlight, Dragoff came back to the center stage and stuck the wooden handle of a bloody shovel up his rectum and balanced himself on it, straight up from the surface.  The sharpened tip of the shovel was embedded into the ground, several inches deep.

Ivan ran out and blared toward the crowd, "Ta-da!" After saying this, the clown midget promptly pissed his pants.

At that point, though, Dragoff sunk downward upon the shovel handle and found himself impaled upon it. Waving his arms like a pinwheel, his arms seemed like they blurred, in motion, to the audience.  Suddenly, Dragoff's colon was busted open by the wooden handle.  It didn't help that Ivan took the opportunity to jump on his back, hoping to share the spotlight.  A moment went by before the handle went all the way through Dragoff's small body and exited out of his mouth before plunging through Ivan's right eye socket.  Both circus performers screamed and tumbled, smashing forward into the hard, unforgiving ground.

Teeth, blood, bits of exploded colon and gore spilled forth in rivers from where they lay, motionless.

A teenager cheered and texted to her friend the act she had just witnessed.  She texted:

OMG!  I JUST SAW TWO CLOWN MIDGETS DIE BEFORE MY EYES.  THEY WERE HILARIOUS!

One audience member clutched his chest, unsure how much more he could take.  His wife, sitting next to him, patted her husband on the back and said, reassuringly, "It's going to be okay, honey.  These people are really multi-talented."

Asmodeus, demon in disguise and the owner of the circus joined Trixie, arm in arm.  Both of them had just made an entrance and took center stage.  Asmodeus noticed the man who was clutching his heart and politely asked, shouting toward him, "Do you feel a pain in your chest, sir?"

The man shook a bit, sweating and then said, "I'll be... fine."

With that, Trixie pulled her arm slowly away from Asmodeus' arm.  Like a frightening wraith, the once pretty, buxom blonde traveled up the bleachers and stood in front of the man who believed that he was about to have a heart attack.

Trixie curled her finger, slowly and beguilingly,until the man felt he should move his face closer to the pale woman's figure.  She was whispering something under her breath.  The man's wife said, "Go ahead, Sweety Pie," she coaxed, "The lady wants to probably show you a neat trick."

The man shuddered and nervously asked, "Are you a magician?"


Trixie lunged forward and stuck her forked tongue deep into the man's mouth, giving him a french kiss from hell.  Despite his extreme fear, the man achieved a sizable erection.  Trixie's long, snake-like tongue roamed around the inside of the man's trembling mouth.

Asmodeus suddenly ran up to the man, the wife and Trixie and then declared, "You're openly flirting with my woman!  How dare thee!"

Horns sprouted from Asmodeus' head and he quickly transformed into his real identity. The frightening form of a demon stood before the aroused husband.  Asmodeus' eyes glowed, red and fiery.  The demon circus owner clutched the man's neck and thrust upward, popping the victim's head off from his body like the cork of a champaign bottle.

The head bounced from one bleacher seat onto the next until it finally plopped in a young woman's nachos and cheese.  She was sitting in the front row, way down below.  Nachos and cheese flew everywhere.  Melted cheese and human blood splattered against her shirt.  Instead of wondering about or doing anything about the mess or the decapitated head, she immediately took an electronic device from her handbag and texted her friend about how a human head landed, suddenly, in her nachos and cheese and how hard it would be to get the stains out of her shirt.

Meanwhile, Asmodeus was still enraged about Trixie's transgression against him.  Instead of taking his anger out on her, however, he killed the man who had recently had a forked tongue dive into his mouth.   Asmodeus' big red arms steamed.  The arms of the demon rose above his head and the sides of the tent began to catch on fire.  Everyone screamed, panicked and attempted to escape.

Suddenly the wolves with red glowing eyes and bared fangs came pouring into the tent again and began dispatching each circus attendee, who made it to the floor, with joyful and hungry abandon.  Flesh, tattered clothes, phone gadgets, and lakes of blood could be found everywhere inside the tent.

Very few people got out alive that day and Asmodeus' Astounding Circus closed down for several months, disappearing without a trace, until it suddenly sprung up again in jolly old England.

Needless to say, the circus proved to be more popular than the Queen's Diamond Jubilee and the Summer Olympics being held in London, combined.

Asmodeus and Trixie are married now in unholy matrimony.  And Trixie is constantly having to remind Asmodeus, every night, to take out the garbage.  Gosh!

But that's another story.  

The Holidays Are Over and The Joy of Putting Xmas Gifts Together

First of all, as if you can't tell by my latest posting, I survived Christmas Hell once again.  The one Christmas gathering my significant other and I hosted for her side of the family didn't cause me to flip out, fall down on my knees, sob openly and then get up, retrieve my flamethrower from under the bed, go back and set everyone on fire this time around.

I only had two instances where I had to leave a heavily populated room due to stress.  For me, a heavily populated room is anything over five or six people.  I feel like I'm trapped in a herd of insane, babbling bison in that situation.  I can't handle it.  One thing that sets me over the friggin' edge is when three people are talking to you at the same time about three extremely different topics.  My head is turning faster than a possessed girl in a 70's horror movie in order to focus and hear what each buffalo has to say.  For whatever reason, people have a tendency to pull this hilarious routine on me-  intentional or not.  Maybe they want me to pull out the flamethrower.  I must seem like someone who will calmly listen to the subject matter presented and, in turn, shoot wisdom out of every orifice for the talker's benefit or possibly cause the talker to laugh by spurting out an absurd or observational joke that may have something to do with what they're rambling about.

You say you made a macaroni and cheese dish with less flavor than Styrofoam cups covering a decrepit whore's wrinkly worn down nipples?

Well, I can't wait to try to digest that dish you made for our supposedly joyous Christmas meal without spitting it out and blinding your baby with unappetizing chunks of what you jokingly refer to as food.

It's all a pretty picture I paint, I know.

Then someone else may talk about trains and fishing lures.  I will attempt interest while also fantasize about fucking Mila Kunis deep in her tiny, puckered asshole.

Ta-dah!

Here's a joke I made up for ya that's both absurd and observational.  Best of all, it's an easy one to remember.

Question: What's the difference between a monetarily wealthy kid on Christmas morning and a poor kid, that same day, that lives in a run down apartment with a bunch of relatives that are also poor?

Answer: The wealthy kid will likely probably not give too much of a shit about what he gets when he opens his gifts because he already has everything without asking.  He might grow up, feeling entitled.  Maybe not.   Now the poor kid is likely just grateful that he has a big family that loves him.  He may envy the rich kid every so often but he ultimately knows what is important and what's not.  Does he feel entitled?  Hell, he's just trying to survive.  Living his life is all the gift he needs.

Spoiled girl secretly enters the room at night, then carefully binds mother and father's limbs while they slumber peacefully, dreaming of new things to acquire and gingerly scoops parent's eyes out with a spoon because she didn't get that latest technological piece of shit that will go out of style in a couple weeks and no longer make her friends green with envy.  Later, after the merry mayhem and profuse bloodshed and disemboweling of daddy, she'll get her own reality show, thanks to the hyperventilating, over publicized rabid press coverage.  A happy ending that will certainly appeal to today's wonderfully sane society.

It's not so much a joke but it's something I think people should think about.  I think the poverty stricken people around the world think the wealthy in America suck for a lot of reasons.  It's not completely envy.  Maybe not at all.  You tell me.  I wonder if they believe we're arrogant and entitled, too, to a greater degree.

The wife and I overdid the gift giving to each other this year.  Made all the Christmas gift givings in the past look a might tame.  TV.  Camera.  Exercise machine for me.  I put that together that today.  Jewelry.  A cool graphics tablet thingamajiggy that allows you to draw with a pen while your drawing shows up on the PC monitor.  I forget what else.  Too excessive.  In a way, it gave me a bad case of "the guilts."  Perhaps I shall shed these feelings of guilt, layer by layer, by distributing free bars of soap to the hobos under the bridge.  Sorry.  That isn't right.

I really wish the lady would have come, shipped in a special container with this item, when I ordered it.  She could have made me some delicious mac and cheese.  Darn it.

But, at the moment, I'm feeling kinda vulnerable and anxious now that I've said what we got this festive holiday season.  Don't rob me!  I'm nuts.  Who knows what type of funny rascally rabbit I'll pull out of my hat?  For real. Fair warning, my friends.  Group hug?  No?

I've figured out how this thing goes with that thing, for the most part.  I'm learning how to do new stuff that's normally a little above my intelligence capabilities.  But I'm still one hell of a guy, after all.  There are still hook ups and procedures I don't quite understand.  But I'm going to make a real attempt at being patient with understanding things and more patient with people- this year and beyond.  I'll try working on that.  No more Mr. Flamethrower Guy.  Unless I'm provoked.  :-D

Side Note: So far the comments I've been getting about the exercise machine suggest that I got it as a gift from a family member.  This is not the case.  My wife and I purchased it and had it delivered to myself to help lower my blood sugar and high blood pressure counts and more.  Thank you and have a rip-roaring day, damn it.  

Second Round of Auditions For The Circus

If you missed the previous "round of auditions", click here, friends and neighbors! It might help you when reading this second part of the story. Either that or it will transport you to a far away loony bin, where purple cross-eyed elves and Happy Ewes in crotchless panties frolic about you as you drool, uncontrollably.

As the family of mentally impaired clown midgets left Asmodeus' Astounding Circus, happy to be newly employed, the ringmaster, Gregorio, grabbed a flask of whiskey from his pocket and took a swig. Byron Asmodeus, the owner of the circus, was a large man with dark brown eyes with just a hint of red surrounding the pupils. The look on his face seemed to convey much wisdom. Byron had owned the circus for 20 odd years. His ringmaster, Gregorio, was his hardworking manager.

Asmodeus stood up from the desk to stretch his long legs after hours of judging, took out a joint, lit it and inhaled deeply. After exhaling, he looked to his ringmaster and asked, "Who's next?"

Gregorio put the flask back in his pocket and announced, "Next, we have a very different group of characters up for audition, my old friend." Asmodeus nodded, rubbed his goatee and said, "Fresh meat for my entertainment."

After this was said, the potential performers for the circus were escorted into the tent by a very large, muscle bound behemoth by the name of Gonza. Gonza was a cruel, burly man who enjoyed his job as Head of Security for Asmodeus. Many claimed Gonza had crushed the skulls of dozens of victims, with his massive hands, in the past. Asmodeus knew of Gonza's past and had hired him, almost immediately.

Asmodeus and Gregorio sat down at the large wooden desk after they had taken a short recess between rounds of auditions.

The first performer stepped onto the stage. Gregorio promptly introduced him, saying, "This is Mr. Wait and See."

Asmodeus asked the man, who seemed weak in appearance, what he did.

Mr. Wait and See said, with little enthusiasm, "I wait and see what will happen as we continue to experience global warming and volatile climate change and ignore all the obvious signs of the evidence around us until civilization crumbles, as it has before, and we, as a supposedly intelligent species, die off."

Asmodeus nodded, considered what Mr. Wait and See had said and then commanded Gonza to come over. Asmodeus explained, "Gonza will assist you in your performance."

Gonza cheerfully and ruthlessly grabbed the puny man's head with both enormous hands and with sheer force, popped Mr. Wait and See's head like a candy-filled piñata. Instead of candy, however, blood, brain matter and bone fragments were sent flying in all directions, hitting everyone in a twenty yard radius. Mr. Wait and See's body fell, lifeless, to the floor.

Asmodeus licked the blood off his lips and then shouted, "Clean up on stage 3!"

Not long after this, a little curly haired dwarf waddled up to the stage with a mop, bucket and other cleaning supplies. Quicker than their eyes could register what they were seeing, the dwarf moved with mercurial speed and had the mess gone in seconds. Gonza took the headless corpse and fed it to the ravenous wolves outside. He laughed heartily and then said, "You don't have to 'wait' for your dinner today, my friends."

The wolves quickly gobbled up the body, with teeth gnashing, tearing the corpse into shreds. With their appetites satiated, the wolves slept comfortably, occasionally cutting the odd fart or two.

"Next, we have The Amazing Trixie to possibly entertain us," explained the ringmaster.

Asmodeus eyed the college girl's voluptuous figure and speculated on how he would enjoy having the young woman as a guest, later, inside his mansion.

"And what can you do for me, today?" asked the ancient circus owner, spittle forming at the corner of his mouth.

The girl, completely overjoyed and oblivious to the fact that someone had just been heinously murdered in front of her, was ignoring Asmodeus and Gregorio. She was texting away on her little electronic contraption about her plans for the upcoming weekend.

"Ahem!" shouted Gregorio, in an attempt to get her attention.

Trixie, startled, looked up and coyly asked, "Oh, it's my turn?" Her sizable breasts jiggled as she bounced up and down, bubbly and full of surprising energy.

Asmodeus stared evilly at Trixie and whispered, "Tell us what you're going to do and do it... Now."

The Amazing Trixie giggled and then replied, "Well, um, heh heh, I'm kinda doing it right now."

Ringmaster Gregorio demanded, "Explain yourself, girl!"

Trixie brushed her blonde hair back, laughed and said, "Well, um, I'm able to text and text and text and never stop, no matter what happens around me."

Asmodeus glared at her. Trixie's once overly perky smile turned upside down into a frown as she added, "Well, um, until now."

Asmodeus rubbed his chin and let out a howl of laughter. Trixie was relieved, taking this as a sign that "all was good in the neighborhood", so to speak.

Crimson horns sprouted, suddenly, from the top of Asmodeus' head. Showing the true nature of who and what he really was, Asmodeus stood up and calmly walked over to Trixie. The demon took Trixie by the chin with his clawed hand and with fiery eyes looking down into her almost completely innocent face, he calmly said, "Gonza, will you please escort the young woman outside so that I may confer with her, in private, later?"

Gonza bounded onto the stage, grabbed Trixie around the waist and hurriedly whisked the college girl off the stage. When this happened, she dropped her texting device. Before she was exited out of the tent, everyone heard her exclaim, "Wait! I dropped my phone! I need to text my gal pals about the new color I painted my toenails!"

By this time the other potential auditioning performers were shifting, uneasily, from foot to foot. They looked up at the demon, Asmodeus, who had somehow grown taller in size and more fierce looking. Trembling, a few of them pissed their pants in fright.

Ignoring their fear, Ringmaster Gregorio waved the next one up onto the stage and introduced a man that was clothed in an expensive suit and tie. He seemed very out of place.

"Next, we have Speaker of The House, John Boner."

The politician nervously corrected the ringmaster and said, "Uh...My name is... um... pronounced 'Bay-ner'... actually."

"Boner, it is, then," said Gregorio, unflinchingly.

Asmodeus bent down, inches from the Speaker of The House's orange-ish colored face and menacingly inquired, "What is it that you believe you can do for me in order to possibly entertain our audiences in the future, Mr. Boner?"

Normally outspoken Republican, John Boehner, hesitated at first, then explained, "Well... I can... cry at will in order to seem... genuinely passionate... for the media and the American public."

"Yes, go on," demanded the demon, with smoke rising up from his hellish form.

Boehner continued, "And I am able, um, eh, to help convince members of congress and the American public that... we really have no need for nationwide healthcare that would allow even the poorest of them access to health insurance."

Boehner paused for a few seconds before saying, "And I have done much more than that... to cause, umm, needless misery for my personal gain. For instance, I..."

The demon held up his clawed hand to stop Boehner from droning on about his achievements.

Asmodeus grinned at the evil of which the politician spoke of. Nevertheless, the demon circus owner was considering the weaknesses of the man before him.

The demon sighed and then replied, "Though you show remarkable qualities in the political arena in which you dwell, I'm afraid there is no position you can fill here."

Boehner seemed sad and caused himself to shed a perfect single tear after hearing this decision.

"Awww," said Asmodeus, "Please don't be despondent, Mr. Boner."

The Speaker of The House looked up and smiled, believing that the demon was taking pity upon him. No sooner than this thought pass in his mind that the great, terrifying figure from the depths of hell rammed his arm down Boehner's throat and slowly pulled out the pathetic man's heart, intestines and other vital organs from his body. The politician's screams were muffled by the demon's arm and his body shook as blood and gore gushed out of every orifice.

Finally, the body fell to the stage floor. The head of the human was an unfamiliar mangled mess as every bone, eye and other parts of his face had been reduced to mush.

Gonza walked over with a garbage bag and scooped up the remains. Before exiting the tent, Gonza said, "Thank you, Master. The wolves will have full bellies, tonight."

Asmodeus laughed, heartily and then replied, "Just be sure to give them something for the indigestion they're likely to have with this last heap of human garbage."

Everyone burst out with gales of nervous laughter. Asmodeus sat back down and asked, "Who wishes to perform for me next?"

This story will likely be continued at a later time... at my convenience. :-)

Life Lessons From Father To Son

Minutes after placing the plastic Santa, sleigh, reindeer, snowman in the yard and decorating the house with many festive lights in order to give Sean's residence the appearance of a typical American home during the much commercialized season, Sean placed his arm around Timmy's shoulder. The 40 year old corporate executive was proud of his accomplishment. It was important, in Sean's mind, that he keep up with the other neighbors' decorated yards in his suburb. He looked down to see if his son was taking in the grandeur of the perfectly well placed decorations and lights, as well. As usual, Timmy was preoccupied with the latest version of his iPod, texting away another irrelevant message to a friend in a long line of trivial messages.

That reminded Sean. He needed to buy himself an upgraded version of an electronic gadget he had bought only a month ago. Texting, instant messaging and twittering was such a vital part of Sean's life and he just had to have the very latest electronic gadget in order to keep up with appearances and to make himself feel just that much more special than anyone who didn't have the latest electronic gadget at the moment. Sean's cars, mansion, big screen TVs, yacht and the rest of his possessions meant everything to him. After all, Sean thought, your portfolio, your money and the material things you own is a reflection upon your true value in society. And this thought, in turn, reminded Sean that he needed to have a serious talk with his 12 year old son about the facts of life.

"Son," said Sean, demanding Timmy's attention, "I think it's time we had THE TALK."

Sean had to snap the texting device out of Timmy's hands in order to stop the boy's addictive behavior and get his attention. It seemed that everyone during this time had such an addiction to electronic gadgets. At times, it seemed as though they were mindless texting, cell phone- talking zombies, incapable of standing in front of someone and communicating directly to them. With blank stares upon their little screens, they tappity-tap-tapped upon their hand held device's buttons, pausing only if it was absolutely necessary.

Timmy whined, "Hey, I was texting something to Ricky."

Sean said, "When we're finished talking, I'll let you have it back. Don't worry."

Timmy got a pout-y look on his face, thinking it would gain him back his gadget. It didn't. It was one of the few times Timmy didn't get his way with Sean.

Sean started, "It's time for you to know just how important is to run with the pack. To conform. Be a complete team player in life. And perhaps, most importantly, never differentiate from the norm so everyone, from your classmates in school to your fellow players in an organized league to your future co-workers in the office, will accept you during life. Never rock the boat."

Timmy looked up, asked, "Office? Why do I have to work in an office? Why can't I work at the supermarket with Uncle Frank?"

Sean laughed and then continued explaining, "Your Uncle Frank is what we call a loser. A no account. A grunt who performs routine tasks. A nothing, in truth."

"Why do you say that?," inquired Timmy.

As Sean walked Timmy back to the warmth of the interior of the mansion, the father said, "Uncle Frank didn't go to college. Instead of choosing a career where he would earn an annual six figure salary, Frank decided to waste his life and opportunities to work behind a deli counter, never to achieve what you kids today call the "awesomeness" of having considerable wealth and exceptional stature." With this said, Sean winked and nodded, affirmatively. He was hoping to get through to his son the importance of appearances and the never ending goal of attaining vast wealth throughout his lifetime.

As they stepped inside, Sean instructed Timmy to sit at the table for more enlightenment. At the table, Timmy said, "I don't understand. I always thought Uncle Frank was pretty happy. He's always smiling, the couple of times I've seen him."

Sean replied, "It doesn't matter if Uncle Frank is happy. What's important is wealth and conformity. Frank, from the day he was born, hasn't followed the rules of American society and as a result, doesn't measure up to our standards, my son. It's just that simple."

Timmy seemed confused at first, but then his expression brightened.

"So that's why you never invite Uncle Frank to Christmas or Thanksgiving every year," said Timmy, pleased that his father was smiling at his sudden comprehension.

Sean patted the boy on the head and said, happily, "You betcha!"

Timmy exclaimed, "Uncle Frank isn't as good as we are!"

"Why Frank has hardly any value as a human being at all," confided Sean, proud that his boy was eagerly learning a valuable lesson.

Timmy and Sean laughed heartily. This is going to be a wonderful day, thought Sean. The boy was soaking in all the wisdom Sean had to offer like a thirsty sponge.

At that moment, Vicky, Sean's wife walked in from the living room. She asked, "Will you boys be ready to go shopping in about an hour?" Sean and Timmy nodded. "There's a new upscale department store in the city that I've wanted to go into and we have reservations at The Capital Grille later tonight. I hear the Seared Tenderloin with Butter Poached Lobster is out of this world. I"m just so looking forward to eating there."

Sean and Timmy decided to go into the living room to watch TV. A news program was playing, showing the plight of people that had lost their jobs, recently, and were having trouble keeping their homes.

Timmy giggled, pointed and then exclaimed, "Look, dad! Poor people! They're stupid!"

Sean confirmed Timmy's outburst, saying, "That's right, son!"

Sean continued, "And if you should see any people at any time like this or any other losers that ask you for a handout, just pretend that they don't exist. It's easy. And it's the American Way"

The next images were of people fighting a war in the Middle East. Sean thought he could contribute more to his son's education by explaining the reason we were at war.

Sean asked, "Do you know the reason why our young soldiers are risking their lives over in the far away country called...? Eh, I forget the name at the moment... but that's not important anyway."

Timmy said, "Nope. I never really cared. Whenever they talk about war stuff on TV, I usually turn on my PS3 and play games."

Sean thought, Well, I really can't blame him there. Whenever the subject of whatever war we were currently in came on the screen, he'd quickly change channels to some televised sporting event.

"Well," said Sean, "The reason we go to war with people that are different than us is due to a number of things. One, they might have something that we want. Like oil, for instance. Two, our corporations and our government may have found ways to make a profit from setting up our "democracy bases" in these countries, therefore, we should be there. And three, it's the patriotic thing to do."

Timmy said, "I thought I heard it was about terrorism or somethin'."

Sean put his hand on his son's arm while saying, "Well, son, our government and politicians have used fear mongering and terms suggesting that you're not a true patriot unless you want go to another country and kill their people who have nothing to do with terrorism, per se. In fact, a lot of innocent civilians are killed over there for really unfair reasons, I suppose, if you really want to dwell on that sort of thing. Our own soldiers die over there, as well, but hey, ya gotta crack a few eggs to make an omelet."

Sean pointed up toward the air and said, triumphantly, "Heck, our country was practically taken and founded upon the massacre of people different than us. You've heard of Indians, right? Well, we had to wipe them out early on in order to spread across this land like a virus. They had our land and we took it from them. We even let a few of them live. 'Might is right', as they say."

Sean laughed a bit and then added, "But who says life has to be fair? It's the end result that counts. As Americans, we have to protect our gluttonous, selfish way of life by doing things that may seem immoral to some losers but that doesn't really matter. Money matters. Satisfying our needs is what matters. Doing what the government tells you to do and what to believe, no matter how much you think it is a lie, is what truly matters."

Timmy thought about what his father said and though a lot of it didn't make sense, he decided to go along with it. It seemed to him that if everyone else was going along with these rules, then it must be right.

Timmy said, "I guess I get it."

Sean said, "That's all I need to hear. Just remember... the majority is always right. Think and act like everyone else and you'll do just fine. In the future, you'll go to college, get a high paying career, get married, buy a big house and other expensive items, raise a couple rug-rats of your own and never question authority or the government. Don't rock the boat."

Timmy smiled and then said the words a father wants to hear the most from his son.

"I want to be just like you when I grow up, dad."

Sean said, "You betcha, son." Sean, assured of Timmy's compliance with all that was said, gave Timmy his iPod back.

Minutes later, the family gathered into the limousine and were taken into the city for a day and night of heavily commercialized Christmas shopping and fine dining. Life couldn't be better for Sean. Sean felt he had instilled valuable life lessons in his son and took exceptional pride in that accomplishment.

Disturbing Trend of Small Town Crimes By Cops and Crazies

The folks in my surrounding area are getting a little too crazy... even for me. I think I liked it better when they were all just a bunch of boring, redneck hillbillies that just sat around drinking beer and renting DVDs for their weekend's entertainment. There was a time when our neighboring big city of Cincinnati was getting all the bad press and media attention for gang related murders and widespread police brutality toward innocent and elderly people. You know... The easier targets.

Now the small town area I live in is getting that kind of attention this year. Some of the news is even garnering national media attention.

Explanation

In the town of Rising Sun, Indiana, a couple rinky dink towns away from me, a boy by the name of Andrew Conley, 18 years old, decided to strangle his 10 year old brother to death because he wanted to be like the main character in the TV show, Dexter. Dexter is a serial killer in the show and apparently, Andrew was a big fan. The news of the murder made headlines across the U.S. and everyone expressed disbelief it had happened in such a small town.

At the time of the murder, Andrew was 17.

Andrew confessed to the murder, while in court, very calmly and gave intricate details to the judge and the courtroom audience of how it all went down.

Andrew explained that he choked his younger brother while they were playing around and wrestling on the ground until the boy passed out. He said he then dragged his brother into the kitchen, put on gloves and continued strangling him for at least 20 minutes. Andrew then confided that he put the boy's head into two plastic bags.

A coroner testified that Andrew's brother, Conner, may have still been alive for minutes or hours after that point, but the bags helped suffocate him and Conley repeatedly banged the boy's head on the ground before loading him in the trunk of his car to make sure he was dead.

Conley told psychologists he had been unable to stop and felt as if he were watching the murder outside himself. But the judge said that despite contradictory statements by Conley, experts agreed that he still knew what he was doing was wrong.

The judge discounted Conley's claims of remorse as "superficial and not sincere," saying he could have expressed remorse when he drove to give his girlfriend a promise ring with his brother's body in the trunk of his car but didn't.

The judge also noted that instead of telling his father what he had done the following morning, he asked for condoms and joked with his mother and watched football all day. Conley also calmly remarked that he had calmly stood over his sleeping father with a knife and considered cutting his throat.

Conley, now 18, was sentenced a month ago to life in prison without parole. The prosecutor said he couldn't get the death penalty because he was only 17 when the murder occurred.

A Couple of Florence Nightingales

Then we have two cases of two head nurses in two different nursing homes that were arrested for selling drugs; pain medication, to be exact, that was meant to be administered to two elderly women who were both suffering from terminal illnesses. One elderly lady was on morphine for her horrendous pain. The other, on a high dosage of Vicodin. Both of them died in agony due to the head nurses using the medication that was meant for them and instead, selling their medication for profit.

Who's Going To Protect Us From The Cops?

Then there is the disturbing trend, lately, where the cops in this area of small, strung together towns are getting in trouble for some pretty heinous crimes.

In the town I grew up in, a former Assistant Police Chief has been caught, arrested and fined for pilfering money from the police department he worked at. No jail time, however. He had been a cop there for close to twenty years.

Still another cop has been suspended, temporarily, from the force for two instances of Driving Under the Influence and crashing into someone on the last one.

Yet another cop, in my old hometown, has recently been arrested for beating his wife almost to death and he has been ticketed and given a little fine for his actions.

Even the mayor of the town I'm living in now has recently been arrested for driving under the influence and crashing into a parked vehicle.

Saving The Worst For Last

One former Assistant Police Chief was arrested earlier this year. This former Assistant Police Chief of one of these small towns in a Indiana police department will spend the next seven years in prison. The cop resigned in April of 2010 after being arrested for solicitation.

Police say the veteran police officer was chatting with whom he thought to be a 13 year old girl, who was, in fact, an undercover police officer in Ohio. The former Assistant Police Chief, while chatting away with the "young girl", also exposed his cock to her by way of using his son's computer and the son's web cam. It was later reported that he had flashed his genitals on several different occasions to other young girls, by way of web cam, after law enforcement officials confiscated the computer and checked out the history and video files on the hard drive and talking to victims of whom he flashed.

The court was thinking about fining "Officer Pervert" a shit load of money on top of his sentence but they decided, in the end, to refrain from doing so because his wife and two sons would be the ones to suffer. His wife, of nearly twenty years of marriage, is barely getting by as it is because she works at Wal-Mart. You know... Wal-Mart. That's the place where they treat their employees like shit and pay them next to nothing while they face and deal with the general public every day- a fate worse than death. I know. I was employed there for about three years.

Also, on a side note, if any employee at Wal-Mart is caught or rumored to have spoken about this woman's ex-cop husband (yes, she is still married to him) and the crime he committed, they have been told they will be immediately terminated on site.

By the way, I have nothing but absolute respect for anyone having to deal with an ungrateful, cold blooded team of management and your typical asshole customers every day. Much more so than anyone else in any other occupation- with the exception of firefighters, EMT's and people who help others out.

"Officer Pervert", who is 52 years old, had been a police officer for 25 years. As of now, this scumbag, piece-of-shit ex-cop remains held at the Switzerland County Detention Center until he can be moved to a state facility because they fear for his safety.

Hopefully, when they throw his sorry ass in prison, he will be eligible for the special Seven Year Plan of severe, sadistic anal raping as a lesson in justice.

Let's collectively cross our fingers, shall we?

The popular expression in our area, nowadays, is this:

If you wanna get a job as a cop with the police department- it's easy... Just commit a felony.

The Truth

All cops are not heroes and that's a fact, but because of the myth that "all cops are heroes," there's minimal call for disciplining bad cops, and maximal call for "forgiving," and "understanding" the tough work of being a cop. To me, that type of allowance is terrifying.

Police work is tough, of course. It's among the most difficult jobs in the world, work that deserves our respect. And turning a blind eye toward police misconduct by allowing crooked, corrupt, outright criminal cops to have long careers in law enforcement only makes it more difficult and dangerous for the good cops.

Letting cops get away with crime, or "punishing" police misconduct with long, leisurely paid suspensions, or probation, or sweet deals that allow a policeman's own police record to be expunged, or any of the other special treatments cops typically receive when they're accused of wrongdoing, is asinine and counterproductive.

And really, the same goes for any authority figure. They should be held accountable and the punishment for any wrongdoing on their part should be swift and harsh just because they have been given the responsibility of either leading and/or protecting people in their charge.

If you wish, I will gleefully volunteer for the job of doling out said punishments. I can be quite creative, I cheerfully assure you. I am smiling quite evilly now, as you can imagine. And can you just imagine me in charge of punishing such offenders? What fun everyone would have!

In The End

It's been an exciting year in my neck of the woods thus far. I wonder what will happen next in my sleepy little town. It's always been a source of mild amusement for me when reporters come around and do their usual commentary during these types of reports, saying the same routine phrase, "Well, you wouldn't think it could happen in such a small town like this but "so and so" committed _________ (fill in the blank for whatever shocking crime you can think of that could happen in a burg like mine).

Controversial Topics

The following are my opinions, beliefs and what have you, regarding today's controversial topics. They are supposedly controversial in the U.S., anyway. I'm not looking for an argument, nor am I attempting to persuade anyone to think the way I do on these subjects. I've learned long ago that spending too much time convincing anyone of anything is usually futile, tiresome and a waste of my time. I just felt like throwing these convictions out there. If you wish to comment, regarding whether you agree, disagree or haven't decided yet on all or any of these topics, feel free. However, try not to get too crazy or worked up about any of them. I don't want anyone to push themselves into a heart attack or brain hemorrhage. Or... Well... Maybe I do. You'll never know. Heh heh.

Also: A lot of people think there is a gray area with some of these issues. I happen not to feel that way.

Blah. Blah. Blah. Here ya go!

Gun Control- People have an issue with this because they believe it is dangerous for people to keep a gun inside their house. It is dangerous, only, if you don't keep your gun in a secure place. For the most part, people keep their guns locked up. The few who don't keep their guns secured safely and, as a result, a death or accident occurs, should be punished. So... I emphatically disagree with those who oppose the rights and free will of citizens owning guns and having them in their homes. This is another issue to me that seems pretty simple and straightforward. I know there are some of you out there in the Unreal World who would like to make this a gray area type of subject but it's not. Sorry. Well, actually, I'm not. Heh heh. Everyone has the right to protect themselves. End of story.

Abortion- It's murder. What's worse is that abortion is the killing of an innocent life. If the baby is unwanted, give the baby to an adoption agency so it may be allowed to live. If the woman of the baby is raped, the baby should still be allowed to live a full a life. It is not the baby's fault that it's mother was attacked by a worthless piece of human shit. The only gray area, albeit, a touch of gray in this issue, is if there is a situation where the baby, for certain, is endangering the mother's life. In my opinion, the mother should be the one to survive. But, overall, I believe abortion to be wrong. And this statement is coming from someone who isn't that crazy, in general, about kids or people. Kind of ironic, aye?

War On Drugs- It hasn't worked. It will never work. It is a pointless endeavor on the part of our government. Making drugs illegal only benefits the Mafia and drug dealers, monetarily. If we were, for instance, to tax cannabis, like we do cigarettes, we would be able to remove a lot of this country's national debt and we could use that revenue for many things that the states of this country needs. Such as the reparation of roads, bridges and schools. I'd also like to point out the obvious... Marijuana is not dangerous. Alcohol, which is legal, on the other hand, can be very dangerous. Hard drugs, such as heroin and crack, I agree, are incredibly threatening to one's health but it should be left to you whether you do something stupid to yourself or no not. It's your life.

The Death Penalty- I'm all for ending the life of a serial killer or child abuser/rapist. These are not innocent people and are deserving of death. I will cheerfully pull the lever for the electric chair or the trigger of a gun if I were asked to do so in order to end a guilty life, while showing absolutely no remorse as I do so.

Religion- Is bullshit. All organized religion is. People have used religion as an excuse to create war. Religion is a man-made creation, designed to push people into acting against rational behaviour.

God- Yes, I believe in a higher being or beings that created the Universe. Call Him, Her or It whatever you want. If the name, God, works for you, so be it. I don't have proof of His or Hers or It's existence. I only have my own particular faith and feelings to go by concerning "God". I believe in an afterlife, too. All of those folks who have had Near Death Experiences can't be wrong. I base my belief in some personal experiences I've had in the past, as well. Long stories.

Illegal Immigration- The economic and social consequences of illegal immigration are staggering. Illegal aliens have cost billions of taxpayer-funded dollars for medical services. Illegal Immigration is a net drain on the economy; corporate interests reap the benefits of cheap labor, while taxpayers pay the infrastructural cost. If the person wishing to immigrate here has a green card and is honestly striving to become a citizen of this great land of greed, vanity and insanity, well, then, I scream, "Welcome to The Psycho Carnival, fuckers!"

For all those wishing to engage me in some insane argument about any of this, please, don't bother. I have better things to do with my time than get into a heated dispute... especially on the Internet. Instead, pop open a beer, put up your feet, don't take yourself or life too seriously and watch this hilarious video. Aloha.

Gored Through The Neck

Several days ago a bull fighting match took place that ended badly. The bull ended up being killed. But, at least, the bull got to score one for the rest of his animal brethren by goring the matador through the neck. Looking at the slow motion playback of this clip, you can clearly see the bull's horn puncture the fucker's neck and go up out through his mouth. The matador lived but needed extensive surgery. Sadly, they killed the bull.

What's more pathetic is that they still have spectacles like this where animals are tortured and killed for the viewing pleasure of a cheering audience. I don't get it.

Homeless Man Dies As People Look And Walk By

Rather than repeat what I read a couple days ago, I figured I'd rip the story right from the source. Don't tell. :)

This actually happened several days ago.

From The New York Post:

A heroic homeless man, stabbed after saving a Queens woman from a knife-wielding attacker, lay dying in a pool of blood for more than an hour as nearly 25 people indifferently strolled past him, a shocking surveillance video obtained by The Post reveals.

Some of the passers-by paused to stare at Hugo Alfredo Tale-Yax last Sunday morning and others leaned down to look at his face.

He had jumped to the aid of a woman attacked on 144th Street at 88th Road in Jamaica at 5:40 a.m., was stabbed several times in the chest and collapsed as he chased his assailant.

In the wake of the bloodshed, a man came out of a nearby building and chillingly took a cellphone photo of the victim before leaving. And in several instances, pairs of people gawked at Tale-Yax without doing anything.

Later, another man stopped, leaned over and vigorously shook Tale-Yax’s body. After lifting the victim’s head and body to reveal a pool of blood, he also walked off.

Not until some 15 minutes after he was shaken by the pedestrian — more than an hour and 20 minutes after the victim collapsed — did firefighters finally arrive and discover that Tale-Yax, 31, had died.

Firefighters were responding to a 911 call of a non-life-threatening injury at 7:23 a.m. when they found his body.

Cops said they received four 911 calls at around the time of the attack reporting a woman screaming, but found nothing. They received no other 911 calls.

The indifference of the pedestrians echoed the infamous 1964 murder of Kitty Genovese in Kew Gardens, Queens.

Her desperate screams after being stabbed failed to rouse assistance from the dozen or so people many neighbors who heard them.

George Subraj, owner of Zara Realty, which owns the building next to the murder scene, also gave surveillance footage to the NYPD for its investigation of the case.

The video shows an unidentified woman, standing about 5-foot-3 and wearing a jacket and skirt, walking down 144th Street near 88th Road with her cell phone in hand until.

As she walks under a protective scaffolding next to a building, a man is following her. He is described as 5-foot-6, wearing a green short sleeve shirt and dark pants with a green hat.

As that man accosts the woman under the scaffolding, Tale-Yax walks toward them.

Within seconds, the killer is seen on the video running out from the scaffolding and up 144th St, as the woman heads off in the opposite direction.

Tale-Yax then chases after his murderer, who had stabbed him several times in the torso with a knife, but immediately collapses face down onto the sidewalk.

Within a minute or so, the first of a long series of people begins walking by Tale-Yax without going to his aid.

That man, carrying a small bag, gave the dying Tale-Yax a glance before continuing on his way.

The victim’s body was claimed by someone whom the Medical Examiner’s Office declined to identify, and taken to a Brooklyn funeral home.

No arrests have been made, and the police have been unable to identify the woman Tale-Yax was trying to help.

Anyone with information about the murder is asked to call the NYPD’s Crime Stoppers Hotline--------------------

What gets me about this poor human being, Tale-Yax, is not only lethally stabbed while coming to the aid of this woman, but he could have been possibly saved if anyone had gotten him help as he slowly died. An entire hour or so goes by as 25 fuckers walk past him, not doing much of anything, except giving him an indifferent look. One asshole adds insult to the man's dignity and life by lifting the head of the homeless guy, sees the big pool underneath, drops the head and keeps on walking. Wow! Wish I could find that indifferent asshole and cave his head in with a baseball bat. I know the "an the eye for an eye" thing doesn't work for everyone but it can sure make a person feel good in certain situations.

This should be the kind of news that bothers everyone.

If you've read or have seen this story on the news or elsewhere and didn't feel something... anger... pity... disgust... something.... Then I encourage you to re-evaluate your humanity or lack of it and try hard to get some of it back again.

If that's the standard way (the completely indifferent way) of Big City Pedestrians, in regards to their fellow human beings, homeless or not, I don't want to live there. I'll stay in my small town where people wouldn't do walk by and do nothing to help somebody who is dying. I've read pathetic comments on this story suggesting that these fuckers walked by because they thought he was just another homeless bum, lying on the sidewalk, sleeping off his booze. Because of his stature in society, he did not rate as a human being. To these people, his life had no more value than a turd.

Hey, you fucking assholes in New York, I've got news for you! Tale-Yax was a human being. Even before he saved that woman's life. Don't stand there and take pictures of the man to add to your collection in your Facebook photo album, you sick fuckers! Don't walk by when you see someone that may be dead or dying!

Do something!

The video below shows Tale-Yax, the human being and the indifferent fuckers who walked by.

Icky, The Easter Bunny's Half Brother

Meet Icky, the Easter Bunny's half brother.

Icky will quietly slip into your house at night, before Easter morning, go into your refrigerator and steal all of your eggs. It doesn't matter to Icky if your eggs are colored or not, he will take them, along with any fresh or rotten vegetables you have. Actually, he prefers rotten vegetables over fresh because he enjoys scraping the hairy fungus on top and spreading the stuff on a piece of bread as if it were peanut butter. The porn magazines you have hidden aren't safe, either.

We won't discuss what he does with them. This is, after all, a family blog.

Yep.

After Icky has taken what he wants, he will go to your liquor cabinet and drink all your booze. After he drinks so much (he has trouble holding his liquor), Icky will projectile vomit onto your furniture in every room of your house. This is Icky's way of blessing your home.

If you wake up to the sounds of the deranged bunny's retching and eventually find him spattering out pre-digested carrots and bits of human fingers, he will quickly cease vomiting, look at you and growl, shaking frantically, while his big black bunny eyes increasingly dilate to the size of Magic 8 Balls. Completely enraged, Icky will leap up into the air towards you with the intention of taking you to the floor and biting off your head as if it were a rotten, maggot infested hunk of broccoli.

This would be a great time for you to run.

Unless you have a gun. If you do have a gun with you, you must shoot Icky right between the eyes or he will not be stopped. Failure to hit Icky in his "soft spot", will only enrage Icky further. If he was not killed and is on top of you, gnawing your scalp with his nasty ass, dripping-with-slime teeth, please feel free to scream. At this point, it won't matter. Icky has the strength of ten Incredible Hulks. Before you can shout, "I've fallen and I can't get up because I'm pinned down by an insane giant rabbit!", Icky will have bitten off the top of your head, scooped out your brain matter and gingerly place it into a festive, brightly colored Easter basket, complete with large, fancy decorative bow.

Later, after Icky's had his way with your corpse, he will commence to sing a beautiful composition. Enticed by the rabbit's song, neighboring animals will suddenly pour into your house through the chimney, windows or magically appear out of nowhere. Once they've gathered around Icky and your headless body, the animals will dance merrily to Icky's delightful tune, bringing forth a sense of harmony and peace to all of God's creatures.

After the celebration has ended, Icky will hop away to the next house.

This a been a public service announcement from the kind, considerate and loving folks from Psycho Carnival. Happy Easter, everyone!

Toadie in "Road Rage Spectacular"

Reggie was honking his horn and beating on the steering wheel, angry and frustrated from the traffic jam. The guy and female passenger in front of his Chevy would stick their heads out their windows, laughing and giving him "the fuck you" sign of peace every so often. On this hot August day, this was pissing Reggie off to the point where he was thinking about killing a few people, namely, the fuckwads in front of him.

The interstate, Reggie and the fuckwads was on, long and heavily congested. The longer people had to wait to get home from work or wherever, the angrier they got.

When Reggie reached the maximum limit of his patience, the female fuckwad in front stuck her naked, zit-covered ass up against the back windshield. Bad timing. Reggie had pulled back his powered-up car far enough to create some distance between them.

Reggie revved up his engine and cut loose, in every way imaginable and otherwise. Without haste, Reggie plowed into the car in front of him, obliterating the car's back bumper, sending the girl soaring over her front seat, with the end result of her head cracking the front windshield and her blood dribbling down the glass. Tim, her multi-talented sex partner, was shocked. And bleeding profusely from the crash. Upon impact, his face had smashed into the steering wheel of his car with enough force to break his nose and almost all of his teeth.

Tim was dazed and bleeding heavily, but anger took over. He found the strength to stomp on the gas peddle and ram Reggie's car. That was the idea, anyway. Reggie was smart enough to drive around the cars in front of him... just before Tim got to him. Instead Tim's car hit a large white truck. A muscular man got out of this big truck, with a baseball bat, full of deadly intent.

Tim, depressed that he missed Reggie's car, fondled his girlfriend's titties, for comfort. She, in turn, had just enough strength to pull a nine millimeter out of her purse and put a smoking hole in Tim's forehead. She smiled, suffering through blood soaked eyes and died, instantly, thereafter.

Toadie had been calmly watching the ensuing mayhem. Other drivers were getting involved, as well, cursing and screaming. Some were threatening. Some screaming and threatening.

That's when Toadie got out his machine gun and various knives that had been nestled safely in his special "Toolkit Of Death". After masturbating to the thought of killing everyone in sight, Toadie, truly armed to the fucking teeth, got out of his vehicle and said, with pride, "Toadie make everyone's day much brighter with the color of crimson and other shades of red. Ahoy!"

Still hard as a rock, Toadie stood, triumphantly, and shot everyone on sight, laughing hard as heads popped open like fresh spring cantaloupe or something. When the tv and newspaper media vehicles got to the scene, they were killed by Toadie, as well. Their blood lovingly pooled and then drifted off into a sea of red and eventually swelled on the ground and cement... forming small oceans.

No one could defend themselves with Toadie's deadly skills against them. Minutes later, the smoke cleared.

No longer -was the screaming heard. No more vehicles were exploding from Toadie's favorite bazooka. No more bodies fell, raggedly, making splashes in the lakes of blood. All was silent and calm.

Toadie farted.

History was made that day and everyone in the nation helped in their own way to make Toadie a TV sensation and America's new hero. Toadie would remember that mid-afternoon day, often, and with much fondness while stroking his wang, full of glee, until he came.

Spurt.

Afterwards, he would shout, "Modugalphagimminna!"

"Pepper" by The Butthole Surfers

Great song from The Butthole Surfers. Hypnotic. Psychedelic. Totally cool. And to me, the song is really about the different ways we perceive life and people around us. Enjoy.

DVD Movie Review of Untraceable

It's hard to believe I picked this DVD up for a mere four bucks at a local store, recently. A movie for that price that has Diane Lane in it? That's crazy. The movie is not much more than a year or so old and it's pretty damn good. I wanted to see this film when it was originally playing in theaters but didn't get the chance.

Untraceable stars Diane Lane as Special Agent Jennifer Marsh and Colin Hanks as Agent Griffin Dowd. Both FBI agents are on the case of a fucking freak that gets his kicks by displaying graphic murders on his website. The name of his website is aptly named Kill With Me. This loon is very tech-savvy, unfortunately, which keeps the FBI jumping from one location to the other, in an attempt to catch this guy. The fate of each of his tormented victims is left in the hands of the public.

That last bit of info, alone, should make any NORMAL person cringe.

Moving onward: The more hits the asshole's site gets, the faster his captives die. Not that they die that quickly, really. Meanwhile, the media, knowing this fact, has zero qualms in telling the public all the details about this freak's website and his "torture show". Of course, the hits on his website go through the roof. Soon, it gets personal when Jennifer's partner is kidnapped by the seriously disturbed maniac and becomes part of his "show".

I won't go into any more details than that. I think I've already given away enough.

There are a lot of elements that make this a great movie- at least for me. For one, it's intense. A true thriller. You really keep hoping that they nab (preferably kill) this fucker before he puts on another one of his insidious shows. The acting is great. The pace is swift.

Note: The statement this movie makes about the media and the general public is very important and should not be dismissed. The truth in it's message about human behaviour is undeniable.

The scenes of cruelty don't last that long, so don't be discouraged from watching Untraceable because of that element. The torture scenes are there to make a point, unlike the Saw movies where the scenes in those movies show prolonged scenes of torture for the delight of the depraved viewer.

My advice is to definitely rent or buy Untraceable. You won't be disappointed.