December 5th 1959
Hark!
Come hither, and gather ye around. Come listen to a tale of how things were in the rightful days of yore!
Not only did a man have his steed, and his armor, his sword, and his heart. Nay, the most important of a man’s possessions was his honor! And second only to a man’s honor, was the honor of that man’s lover! No man worthy of the term lacked any of these things. And no man would ever stand to have any of these tarnished or brought into question! Surely, this would result in a duel, the only way justice can prevail!
Alas, these days, few men mount their steed, armor adorned, and march off to win the favor of their fine maiden. These days, a “man”, and I do use the term ever so lightly, can hardly be bothered to cast a door asunder so that his favored maiden might enter untroubled! A fine lass can hardly expect to have a chair removed from it’s position at the table so that she might sit without exerting herself!
We used to spill blood at tournament for the sake of clearing the good name of our beloved, and now hardly a kind word, with honor intact, shall fall upon the ears of even the most deserving woman!
Alas! I am not long for this world! Carry on, the best you can, for the days to come are darker still than the days of yore!
Yours truly,
Chivalry
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
JUNE 17TH 2008
HEY THERE!
IT’S A BEAUTIFUL DAY!
YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD MAKE IT MORE BEAUTIFUL THOUGH? A GIANT TUB OF OXYCLEAN!
HAHA, JUST KIDDING. SOMETIMES ITS HARD TO GET MY HEAD OUT OF THE JOB. THE COCAINE HELPS THAT THOUGH! SURE IT’S A LITTLE RECKLESS FOR SOMEONE WITH HEART DISEASE TO SHOVEL COKE UP THEIR NOSE, BUT BOY DO I LOVE IT! IT’S THE SECRET TO MY TRADEMARK SALES STYLE!
ONE TIME I ACCIDENTALLY MISTOOK A TUB OF OXYCLEAN FOR MY TUB OF COCAINE! HO-BOY, THAT WAS ONE HELL OF A NIGHT! SAME NIGHT MY SON WAS CONCEIVED! I LOVE THAT LITTLE RASCAL ALMOST AS MUCH AS I LOVE MY NAME, AND THAT’S WHY I NAMED HIM AFTER MYSELF!
YOU KNOW WHO I DON’T LOVE THOUGH? THAT FUCKHEAD SHAMWOW SALESMAN. WHAT AN AWKWARD FUCKING GUY! IF HE WASN’T TOO BUSY GETTING BEAT UP BY HOOKERS, I’D BEAT HIM DOWN LIKE I BEAT DOWN ANYONE WHO TRIES TO RETURN THEIR ORDER OF ORANGE GLO!
ORDER NOW, AND GET AN EXTRA SUCKER-PUNCH TO THE THROAT, FREE!
THE OTHER NIGHT I WAS FLYING BACK DOWN TO SUNNY FLORIDA, AND THE PLANE’S TIRES BLEW OUT. BOY WAS I SURPRISED WHEN THAT CARRY-ON BAG NAILED ME RIGHT IN THE HEAD! THAT’S ALRIGHT THOUGH, MY BEARD SHIELDS MY HEAD FROM ANY AND ALL HARM!
HAHA!
BILLY MAYS HERE!
HEY THERE!
IT’S A BEAUTIFUL DAY!
YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD MAKE IT MORE BEAUTIFUL THOUGH? A GIANT TUB OF OXYCLEAN!
HAHA, JUST KIDDING. SOMETIMES ITS HARD TO GET MY HEAD OUT OF THE JOB. THE COCAINE HELPS THAT THOUGH! SURE IT’S A LITTLE RECKLESS FOR SOMEONE WITH HEART DISEASE TO SHOVEL COKE UP THEIR NOSE, BUT BOY DO I LOVE IT! IT’S THE SECRET TO MY TRADEMARK SALES STYLE!
ONE TIME I ACCIDENTALLY MISTOOK A TUB OF OXYCLEAN FOR MY TUB OF COCAINE! HO-BOY, THAT WAS ONE HELL OF A NIGHT! SAME NIGHT MY SON WAS CONCEIVED! I LOVE THAT LITTLE RASCAL ALMOST AS MUCH AS I LOVE MY NAME, AND THAT’S WHY I NAMED HIM AFTER MYSELF!
YOU KNOW WHO I DON’T LOVE THOUGH? THAT FUCKHEAD SHAMWOW SALESMAN. WHAT AN AWKWARD FUCKING GUY! IF HE WASN’T TOO BUSY GETTING BEAT UP BY HOOKERS, I’D BEAT HIM DOWN LIKE I BEAT DOWN ANYONE WHO TRIES TO RETURN THEIR ORDER OF ORANGE GLO!
ORDER NOW, AND GET AN EXTRA SUCKER-PUNCH TO THE THROAT, FREE!
THE OTHER NIGHT I WAS FLYING BACK DOWN TO SUNNY FLORIDA, AND THE PLANE’S TIRES BLEW OUT. BOY WAS I SURPRISED WHEN THAT CARRY-ON BAG NAILED ME RIGHT IN THE HEAD! THAT’S ALRIGHT THOUGH, MY BEARD SHIELDS MY HEAD FROM ANY AND ALL HARM!
HAHA!
BILLY MAYS HERE!
June 5th 1975
I hate my job. I think I’m going to quit.
I mean sure, it pays well, and there’s never a dull day, but lately, just… Jesus Christ.
It isn’t the violence, that doesn’t bother me, part of the job description, but the shit I have to put up with is getting out of hand. Have you ever had to scrub brains out of a car interior? No, of course you haven’t, because you don’t work for Marsellus Wallace.
And if the brains weren’t bad enough, then I had to go deal with Ms. Wallace. She totally has the hots for me, and I’m just sitting there trying to stomach the fact I just paid five whole dollars for a shake without a single drop of alcohol, and she’s all “Hey, let’s go win the dance contest!” The dancing was nice. But that’s the problem. I’m trying not to get killed here. And then what’s she do? Oh I don’t know, overdoses and goes all cardiac arrest on me maybe? I was going to be dead if things got too lively, how much more dead do you think I’m going to be if she dies? Yeah we brought her back, yeah I got to rip open her shirt, but give me a break, please.
You know what, that settles it. I’m going to quit. I’m going to go have breakfast with Jules, and then I’m going to go kill this douche-bag boxer for Marsellus, and then I’m going to quit, AND THEN. I’m going to take a nice long vacation. Somewhere far, far away, where brains don’t explode inside cars, your partner doesn’t feel the need to recite the bible before he kills people, and where you bosses wife doesn’t OD on you for shits and giggles. Ah, paradise.
Vincent Vega
I hate my job. I think I’m going to quit.
I mean sure, it pays well, and there’s never a dull day, but lately, just… Jesus Christ.
It isn’t the violence, that doesn’t bother me, part of the job description, but the shit I have to put up with is getting out of hand. Have you ever had to scrub brains out of a car interior? No, of course you haven’t, because you don’t work for Marsellus Wallace.
And if the brains weren’t bad enough, then I had to go deal with Ms. Wallace. She totally has the hots for me, and I’m just sitting there trying to stomach the fact I just paid five whole dollars for a shake without a single drop of alcohol, and she’s all “Hey, let’s go win the dance contest!” The dancing was nice. But that’s the problem. I’m trying not to get killed here. And then what’s she do? Oh I don’t know, overdoses and goes all cardiac arrest on me maybe? I was going to be dead if things got too lively, how much more dead do you think I’m going to be if she dies? Yeah we brought her back, yeah I got to rip open her shirt, but give me a break, please.
You know what, that settles it. I’m going to quit. I’m going to go have breakfast with Jules, and then I’m going to go kill this douche-bag boxer for Marsellus, and then I’m going to quit, AND THEN. I’m going to take a nice long vacation. Somewhere far, far away, where brains don’t explode inside cars, your partner doesn’t feel the need to recite the bible before he kills people, and where you bosses wife doesn’t OD on you for shits and giggles. Ah, paradise.
Vincent Vega
August 16th 1977
They’re coming to get me.
You shut up now! You know exactly who “they” are! You know, boy!
Dear god, what’s gone and happened to me…
You’re nothing but a hound dog, and I’m nothing but a has-been… If my hips swivel it sure ain't voluntary. I’m fatter than a pair of full grown steer, and on more pills than there are grains of rice in China…
I can’t feel my face…
They told me to meet them in my bathroom. They told me they’d be waiting. They told me I’d know when I saw the light.
Sure haven’t seen much light since she left…
Wait. Could it be? What is this glorious illumination? It's like the Lord himself is descending upon us! They’re here! They’re finally here!
Quickly, to the bathroom!
They’re here!
Elvis Presley
They’re coming to get me.
You shut up now! You know exactly who “they” are! You know, boy!
Dear god, what’s gone and happened to me…
You’re nothing but a hound dog, and I’m nothing but a has-been… If my hips swivel it sure ain't voluntary. I’m fatter than a pair of full grown steer, and on more pills than there are grains of rice in China…
I can’t feel my face…
They told me to meet them in my bathroom. They told me they’d be waiting. They told me I’d know when I saw the light.
Sure haven’t seen much light since she left…
Wait. Could it be? What is this glorious illumination? It's like the Lord himself is descending upon us! They’re here! They’re finally here!
Quickly, to the bathroom!
They’re here!
Elvis Presley
March 29th 2009
It’s cold outside, and I have lost all faith in humanity.
When our forefathers founded this nation, they founded it on good solid heterosexual Christian principals. Every dollar I eagerly spend on my righteous capitalist crusade through life leaves my wallet containing the phrase “In God We Trust.”
Well I’ll tell you what, after today, I know that God is the only one any of us can trust. Don’t trust your heroes folks, they’ll always let you down, but I pray they never let you down as hard as I have been let down today. There is nothing on earth that can restore my trust in any mortal man, not in this sick and twisted world. Lord help me, I simply do not have the strength to bare the weight of this disgusting backwards world, where the people you look up to most can suddenly turn around and fuck you right up the ass.
I cannot bare this any longer. I am at the end of my rope, and soon I’ll be swinging from it.
To my family, I’m sorry, but I hope you’ll understand.
I’m sorry, Ricky. I simply cannot live your la vida loca any longer.
Goodbye.
Ricky Martin’s #1 homophobic fan
It’s cold outside, and I have lost all faith in humanity.
When our forefathers founded this nation, they founded it on good solid heterosexual Christian principals. Every dollar I eagerly spend on my righteous capitalist crusade through life leaves my wallet containing the phrase “In God We Trust.”
Well I’ll tell you what, after today, I know that God is the only one any of us can trust. Don’t trust your heroes folks, they’ll always let you down, but I pray they never let you down as hard as I have been let down today. There is nothing on earth that can restore my trust in any mortal man, not in this sick and twisted world. Lord help me, I simply do not have the strength to bare the weight of this disgusting backwards world, where the people you look up to most can suddenly turn around and fuck you right up the ass.
I cannot bare this any longer. I am at the end of my rope, and soon I’ll be swinging from it.
To my family, I’m sorry, but I hope you’ll understand.
I’m sorry, Ricky. I simply cannot live your la vida loca any longer.
Goodbye.
Ricky Martin’s #1 homophobic fan
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
September 3rd 2006
Ya know what bugs me? Cars and stingrays.
Cars. Wretched things, I mean, can’t ya just imagine getting in a wreck and just being crushed inside the bloody thing? Downright frightening. Ya can’t run away from a car wreck,’ cause you’re in the car! Simply awful way to go, I say.
What really gets to me though is stingrays. Not even the stingrays themselves, but I’m bugged by the fact that I’m bugged by stingrays. I’m the bloomin’ Crocodile Hunter for christ’s sake! Not that I really hunt crocodiles or anything, just play with them for the most part, I suppose that title is a bit misleading now that I think about it, but my point stands. Here I am, practically Mr. Nature; I have a genus and species of snail named after me! (Crikey Steveirwini, look it up.) And yet I’m afraid of stingrays. Stingrays aren’t even that dangerous. I’ve held the world’s ten deadliest snakes, in order, and it didn’t even phase me. Nothing does any more. All of the ‘Crickey!’ and “Whoa, check out the fangs on that shela!” it’s all just for show. None of that gets to me anymore. Except for stingrays. Hell, I wasn’t even always afraid of stingrays. It’s a recent thing. Been having these strange reoccuring dreams about being covered in stingrays, stingrays all over me. Just kinda rubbing their freaky little stingray bodies on me and tickling me with their stingers. And it always ends with the stingrays growing wings and carrying me up to Heaven. Gotta lay off the pizza and ice cream before bed, does it to me every time.
Anyway, Terri’s gunna have my head if I stay up any later, we’ve got another shoot in the morning. I don’t remember what she said it is we’ll be working with, maybe a nice black widow or an anaconda.
Crickey,
Steve Irwin
Ya know what bugs me? Cars and stingrays.
Cars. Wretched things, I mean, can’t ya just imagine getting in a wreck and just being crushed inside the bloody thing? Downright frightening. Ya can’t run away from a car wreck,’ cause you’re in the car! Simply awful way to go, I say.
What really gets to me though is stingrays. Not even the stingrays themselves, but I’m bugged by the fact that I’m bugged by stingrays. I’m the bloomin’ Crocodile Hunter for christ’s sake! Not that I really hunt crocodiles or anything, just play with them for the most part, I suppose that title is a bit misleading now that I think about it, but my point stands. Here I am, practically Mr. Nature; I have a genus and species of snail named after me! (Crikey Steveirwini, look it up.) And yet I’m afraid of stingrays. Stingrays aren’t even that dangerous. I’ve held the world’s ten deadliest snakes, in order, and it didn’t even phase me. Nothing does any more. All of the ‘Crickey!’ and “Whoa, check out the fangs on that shela!” it’s all just for show. None of that gets to me anymore. Except for stingrays. Hell, I wasn’t even always afraid of stingrays. It’s a recent thing. Been having these strange reoccuring dreams about being covered in stingrays, stingrays all over me. Just kinda rubbing their freaky little stingray bodies on me and tickling me with their stingers. And it always ends with the stingrays growing wings and carrying me up to Heaven. Gotta lay off the pizza and ice cream before bed, does it to me every time.
Anyway, Terri’s gunna have my head if I stay up any later, we’ve got another shoot in the morning. I don’t remember what she said it is we’ll be working with, maybe a nice black widow or an anaconda.
Crickey,
Steve Irwin
November 21st 1963
I don’t want to be all melodramatic and start claiming I’m having a midlife crisis, but I think I’m having a midlife crisis. There just comes a point in a man’s life where you sit yourself down and you think “where the hell am I? How did I get here?” I suppose 46 is a good enough time for that, if midlife crisis means I’ve got another 46 years, but who knows. The way I figure is, if I can handle the Cuban Missile Crisis, I can certainly handle a midlife crisis.
When I woke up 20 years ago, I was on a PT boat, getting shot at and sunk and having to swim for my life and carve rescue messages into coconuts. Today I woke up and I’m the President. Then I was trying to keep myself and my men alive, and now I’m trying to gain the cooperation of the Soviets to put a human on the moon. A human, on the moon! Sometimes it sounds crazy even to me, but damn it all, we can do it. I’m sure of it.
Hasn’t all been so smooth though. I can’t help but feel troubled about my mistakes. That whole Bay of Pigs fiasco was incredibly embarrassing, I don’t care if it was Eisenhower’s plan, I’m the one that authorized it, and I’m the one who sent those boys in there without any support. Hopefully the situation in Vietnam goes a bit smoother. I also can’t help but get a weird feeling about that Saddam Hussein character. I know he’s on our side, but something just isn’t quite right about that boy.
Well there’s one thing I know for certain was a great idea, and that was having the presidential limousine turned into a convertible! Can’t wait to ride that baby all around Texas tomorrow afternoon.
Yeehaw!
<3,
JFK
I don’t want to be all melodramatic and start claiming I’m having a midlife crisis, but I think I’m having a midlife crisis. There just comes a point in a man’s life where you sit yourself down and you think “where the hell am I? How did I get here?” I suppose 46 is a good enough time for that, if midlife crisis means I’ve got another 46 years, but who knows. The way I figure is, if I can handle the Cuban Missile Crisis, I can certainly handle a midlife crisis.
When I woke up 20 years ago, I was on a PT boat, getting shot at and sunk and having to swim for my life and carve rescue messages into coconuts. Today I woke up and I’m the President. Then I was trying to keep myself and my men alive, and now I’m trying to gain the cooperation of the Soviets to put a human on the moon. A human, on the moon! Sometimes it sounds crazy even to me, but damn it all, we can do it. I’m sure of it.
Hasn’t all been so smooth though. I can’t help but feel troubled about my mistakes. That whole Bay of Pigs fiasco was incredibly embarrassing, I don’t care if it was Eisenhower’s plan, I’m the one that authorized it, and I’m the one who sent those boys in there without any support. Hopefully the situation in Vietnam goes a bit smoother. I also can’t help but get a weird feeling about that Saddam Hussein character. I know he’s on our side, but something just isn’t quite right about that boy.
Well there’s one thing I know for certain was a great idea, and that was having the presidential limousine turned into a convertible! Can’t wait to ride that baby all around Texas tomorrow afternoon.
Yeehaw!
<3,
JFK
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