~Warning signs that your life may possibly be on fire~ Sometimes life just deals you a crappy hand and sometimes you just manifest it yourself. When something horrible is taking place this circumstance is generally considered "on fire." What I mean by this is the concept that things have gotten so out of control that you must put them out with a hose

to gain some grasp and perspective. Let us explore some of these aspects of

human life:

1. YOUR EDUCATION: You went to the best public high school South Central Los Angeles had to offer. After getting suspended three times, by your Sophomore year you were finally expelled for good. By this point, you had been shot, stabbed, had your house vandalized by three different gangs and been beaten with a piece of Hot Wheels track by a teacher.During this time, you were lucky enough to get "a lady" and start to take interest in a job corp. based

vocational electronics repair program. By the age of twenty-two all you now

have to show is a certificate to inspect hot water heaters, that was awarded

to you by a pyramid-scheme based "institution" that advertises on day time

television.

2. YOUR LADY: When you were in high school, you met "your lady." You were a seventeen year old sophomore and she was a fourteen year old freshman... it was barrio love at first sight. After Casper,Victor, Diego jr, the Martinez brothers and Lil' Spooky (with the gimpy leg) all dated her, you had finally worked up the courage to ask her out. By this time she was experience enough to make you feel like a man. Unfortunately she made you feel like a man so  much, that you guys ended up with three kids by the time she was sixteen. Ultimately six kids to date. You both had to leave school and move in with  her parents. Her father hates you and every time you make her cry, all

seventeen of her cousins and brothers beat your ass... but still she is your

lady and that is what true love is about. 3: YOUR CHILDREN: Since you and your "princess" were in love, you ended up with these products of this emotion. Eduardo II, Ralfi, Killah, Angel , La

Reina and 2Pac are all the children you've always wanted. There is doubt

about Eduardo, Killah and La Reina actually being your kids because that was when you were in jail and your lady got back with the Martinez Brothers.

Unfortunately you don't have the money for a paternity test and Maury Povich

is more than three thousand miles away from you! Just the cost in diapers,

toys, health care and general bullshit is enough to make a grown man cry...

and you do... A LOT~

4. YOUR LIVING SITUATION: Since you are now broke because of all your kids, you and "your lady" had to move in with her parents.You all share an

apartment on Manchester and Normandie in Los Angeles. It's a one bedroom, but there's more than enough love to go around!Especially since your lady's brother Martino got out of "The Towers" and moved in to help out with

watching TV and and breaking your stuff... or hiding out from the feds...

whatever, it's all the same. There are so few sleeping areas, that the babies have to sleep in dresser drawers. You can't

afford a mattress, so since your lady is twice your size, you just sleep on top of her instead That's love :-) You might as well be in IRAQ.

5. YOUR WHIP: This car has been your baby since you were fourteen... she's

been there for the good, the bad and the ugly. You delivered baby 2pac on the hood with a bundle of newspaper and a pair of channel lock pliers. Behold the elegance and splendor that is the 1986

Toyota Tercel EZ sportback. You got her financed at sixty-four payments of only $199.95, with a mere 227,657 miles. The only downside of this fine

automobile was the inability to hold all six car seats. Your veterano neighbor was smart enough to build you a custom rack that can hold two additional car seats on the roof. Just make sure La Reina and Eduardo wear their jackets! She was the one good thing in your life, until "your lady" got jealous when she saw you flirting with a female UPS driver. "Your lady" wanted blood and decided the best revenge was to smash a Gateway Pentium1 computer monitor through the windshield... too bad she didn't realize that you were actually just asking the UPS driver about pricing out overnight service to send your lady's

abuela some flowers in Mexico!

6. YOUR JOB: Since your broke-ass can't wake up before noon, the best job

for you is as a night delivery guy for Papa John's Pizza. Since you are the

new guy, you have been given the somewhat desired route that spans from

Washington to Imperial and Crenshaw to Figueroa. This is sweetly known as

"the blood" route. You are paid a mere six cents a mile for the wear and  damage to your car. The base pay is $4.25 and hour and you have to split

your tips with the district manager and your supervisor. Since your windshield got damaged in the "computer crashing"

incident, you have been taking tips from "Ace Ventura" and figured out that the best way to drive is just like our friend the German Shepard! Head out the window and flies down the throat! Just think... you get off at 5:30am and

after that, the night is all yours!

 7. THE FIRE: Too bad about the fire. You got home from graveyard shift and

the Salvadorians next door got rowdy again! This time they thought it would

be fun to microwave a metal pan. Too bad all good things must come to an

end, it was nice having a place to live. Luckily your lady was able to get

out with her parents, the babies and Martino. But your Reggaeton and Hip Hop CDR collection is lost forever... all those trips to the liquor store on

Crenshaw and Vernon. It's now a complete waste! Being the only bread winner in the family, the survival of everyone now depends on YOU. It's all on your shoulders now, kiddo!

8: THE SUICIDE: Like the love for your Toyota, all good things must come to

an end. The barrio dreams you had as a mijo have now

given away to the harsh realities of becoming a man. Is this the end for the

love you once felt? I must do it... BUT WAIT! Who will deliver the pizzas?

What about all the time and money I put into getting that hot water heater inspection certificate?! How will the windshield in my Toyota ever get fixed?! Fuck it. I'm too much of a wimp. "Mija, do you need anything from Food 4 Less? Make a list this time, you fat bitch!"

It’s that time of year fucko’s. Time to put your phony ass smile on for all your relatives that you fucking hate while you give each other ill-thought out last minute gifts for another episode of “Holiday Bullshit”. Blah. How much more lame can it get? If you buy into this Christmas cheer horseshit I hope you get your face torn off by a bunch of rabid dogs. I hate you. I could go on an on why I hate the holidays but I will spare you my thoughts on that subject except that this time of year my hate batteries are fully charged, all the time. I talk to people, well sometimes, not too much lately and they go and say things like I’m a Grinch or the Scrooge. The Grinch and the Scrooge are sell-outs. They gave up, gave into Christmas crap, they failed to maintain the hate. I will forever pump the bellows strong to keep the hatred of Christmas burning like a pyre of dead bodies soaked in Gasoline. Christmas and it’s adherents deserve each other. I’m doing this column now instead of sleeping because I’m so full of hate I can’t even sleep. I’d rather be in bed dreaming of Soapbox racing, bicycles, comics, and snapping people’s necks that deserve to die: These things allow me to sleep in the cold with no heater. My passion for many things keeps me warm, including my passion for hating people that just suck at life. Since you had to make a bunch of stupid lists this last month of stupid gifts, and cards, and thank-you’s that you had to do but could have done without, I’m making a list of people that if I had my way would be shot in the face.

Sports fans: I may lose some man points for this, but really what is it with this crap? One night I rode to the Stand for dollar hot dogs and when I got there I did my “Now is the time for a dramatic skid.” When is that you ask? All the time! So I do said skid and these two guys give me dirty looks, this older father and son. They don’t like me, so what. They made the mistake of sitting next to my friends, especially the B. Not many people have the B keeping skill, most run away from his swarm of puns, duds, and horrendous one-liners. I sat next to him of course. The two mouth-breathers next to us continue to give us the stink eye. I also notice that the “game” is on, football to be exact, the gayest game on earth. I notice that spunky the wonder squid and Jr. Squid are annoyed as our antics make watching the “game” hard. I think these people are insane because they are talking to the TV. Guess what morons: THEY CAN’T HEAR YOU. They are saying things like “Go Jerry” and “Come on” etc. Do they know the players of this game? Doubtful. Do they know that the people that are on the little box are far away and have no way of hearing you voice your support? Likely. And yet they keep doing it, lots of them. With this stupid bovine mentality prevalent it is not a far stretch to see how people like Hitler can rise to power. Now if something happens like they score a touchdown, these people who are not playing the game, nor are they at the game, merely watching the game say things like “We did it!” We? What? You armchair jockeys have only managed to woof down a bunch of lips and assholes compressed into a tube for the last hour, at best straining your docker pants, but NOT helping “your” team win. Your team? You own it? If that was the case, why are you here giving me and my friends dirty looks instead of making sure “your” team gets all the Extreme snacks it needs? I notice they don’t like us and I notice they are sports fans so I give them the H-Bomb. “Football is a big euphemism for Homosexuality” Say it loud and proud. I notice this comment gets their attention so I go in for the kill. Have you ever noticed that the camera is always centered on the players asses? They wear skintight pants; the camera is pointed at their asses. They have to move a brown turd-like ball (like a mans ass-hole?) and then a bunch of these guys wearing tighter pants than the hippest of Silver-Fake hipsters could ever dream of getting into chase each other around so they can lay on top of each other. When not doing this, they spend the off time between plays patting each other in the ass. GAY! Father and son leave. I win, the end.

I like to have fun; it’s not an exaggeration for me to say I lead a very fun life. I like fun, not everyone does however. The fun police or “happiness can be cured”. I imagine that anyone who picks up this rag likes to have fun as well. I encounter the fun police all the time. I have been told that at a certain age I am no longer allowed to smile or laugh, or have a good time. Life is serious; there is no time for fun and games. I don’t understand these people, I don’t want to, I think it would be fun to douse them in gasoline and shoot Roman Candles at then until they burn. That would be serious fun. I wonder what happened to people that see others having a good time and try to figure out a way to stop it. Did they wake up one day and decide that they would just suck at life and try to suck the life out of everyone else around them? It never ceases to amaze me how many of these frown brokers are out there. People that take themselves too seriously, life too seriously: fuck you ego-maniacs go die already.

I love these mental turd merchants that think they have the solution to solve the worlds ills. All of these quasi-political fuck-tards armed with pamphlets, petitions, and the latest Chomski driveling think they have all the answers? Guess again ass-face. When are you going to realize that people suck, have always sucked and will continue to suck into the distant future. There is a high chance that the more you try to champion hopeless causes, the more you are depraved in your personal life. Lie, cheat, steal all in the name of the “cause”. And the cause changes quicker than a gay mans wardrobe. The West Memphis Three, Free Mumia, Impeach Clinton, Impeach Bush, No blood for oil, We pay too much for gas, Josh is the Wizard, on an on. At least stick to one thing and finish before you move on to the next. You take life so serious; take a serious look at how you’re wasting everyone’s time with your horseshit. You’ll be on to the next hip cause before you know it. Suck. And the thing that all these assholes may not have chimed in on: Did you stop to think that the world does not need to be saved? You’re not going to save the world, it will get on just fine without you, you may now die.

 People that try to placate me with their false promises: I never want to hear what you’re going to do, never. I want to hear what you’ve done. Don’t tell me you’re going to be at a ride and then not show up or say you’re going to build a soapbox car and don’t. Honestly, I have a great time with out you there. You not being there does not detract from my good time, I’m only trying to share my enthusiasm for life, you don’t care, fine fuck you then. Take your excuses and choke on them you fucking tourist, don’t even fucking talk to me. You want to spend your whole life leaning against some wall in some stupid bar as a human drink/cigarette holder, go right on ahead. I hate you fucking hipsters, you fucking cool people. When you’re 35 you’ll have done nothing with your life, you’d be worth more to society as parts than as a whole person. The clock is ticking, have you done anything productive today? How about die? That would be nice.

The laws of the universe are not applicable to me: You have seen these people. There are tons of parking spots but they have to pull up, practically on the sidewalk or a handicapped space because walking twenty extra feet is too far. People that think that their needs supercede everyone else’s needs to the point where the latter’s are curtailed. I’m so sick of people that are selfish. I’m fed up with people that aren’t willing to account for their actions, people that find a wallet and keep the money, people that cut in line. It should be grounds for removal from the park of life. Nuff Said. P. de Valera

“Death”

     I have lived through oceans of time. I have seen cheese turn to mold. I was there when cheese was first conceived. For I am the great Cheese Wizard and I have spread my goodness far across your land. This time I speak to thee of change; I abhor it. In my countless lifetimes I have kept my kingdom the same without err. My slaves toil in the cheese pits and the peasants have plowed the fields of cheese for millennia. I see that your people also hate change and most run in fear of change. No one wants the cataclysm of difference to enter their own lives.

    “It’s the final countdown”, was the song burning in the head of the suicide bomber before he dashed into the crowded cafe (Europe is the best band ever). So what do you want from life? Eternal love? A profitable war? Never ending peace? An undying death? Sorry my friends nothing and no one last forever (ask Danny Elfman`s hair). Once the song is over, the lights come on, and the slam pit stops then it’s time to take your drunken ass home. So knowing this what do you want to spend your life doing? Rally at the pentagon over a koala bear’s rights? Suck down waterfalls of beer? Play video games until your thumbs fall off and you have to sit alone in a trailer for 30 days crying where did my life go?

    You have two choices: You can buy the toilet paper single sheet with 1,000 extra pieces of paper or you can buy the 3 ply, aloe vera, extra soft comfy roll. “Umm…excuse me Mr. Wizard what in the hell are you talking about?”, stated the bathroom attendant. Shut up and just give me a moist towelette. Here’s the analogy folks: Either you can stretch out everyday by climbing Mt. Fuji, swimming with sharks, and racing soapbox cars or you can waste your life in insignificance being comfortable, doing nothing, and die on a toilet with a cheeseburger wedged halfway down your throat. How do you start living right now( let Jesus into your heart and the Christmas angel into your living room). It’s just this simple. You can stop reading my article and start up that long overdue paper route; exploring life outside your own front door or you can simply change the channel to the next T.V. station and sink in the quagmire of your stories. “Did you see last weeks Survivor? I could do that stuff.” ,Huffed the couch potato. Maybe so but you’ll never know with your feet on the ottoman inhaling cheesy poofs.

     The `Death` card in the Tarot means change not literal death (no matter what you see in movies like Final Destination). The Death card means change from one state of mind to another. The real question is if you want to change. Do you want to remain a fat oversized load? Do you want to complain about problems until your best years are dust in the wind dude? Do you want to blame everyone else instead of taking responsibility for your own actions? If so then this is your intervention because this is the last serious article I write unless everyone writes to the Chickenhead address on page#2 that New Found Glory and Good Charlotte sucks donkey choad (I just really hate these sucky punk..aka skunk bands) I leave you with the immortal words from Dr. Frank-N-Furter  “Don`t dream it…Be it”  words to live by so sayeth the Wizard…. P.S. My self help book is now available: “Live by the cheese/Die by the cheese” is sold exclusively through Chickenhead please write to (address on page#2) to get your copy today.

Seasons Beatings chickenheadians of the world. Its Shotgun Mike in the gingerbread house!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sing along with me, ((insert music note)) What are words for?, When no one listens anymore (words for), blah blah blah. WHATEVER......Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.....or will they?

Michael Richards (kkkramer), OK, obviously this guy is borderline psychotic, and a terrible stand up

comic, and he can't deal with hecklers. Now I'm pretty sure all of you out there in the "Real world" have seen the footage on You Tube.com, or the news

etc. The word NIGGER, was spouted in a manic frenzy of comical suckiness. NOW the whole fucking world comes to a screeching halt.....NOW, my point

is.......(drum roll please).....WHO FUCKING CARES. I can feel the hard gripping on the zine.....RELAX.....the correct thing to do in this situation is to either 1. laugh at the idiot, 2. jump on stage and kick his ass, or 3. be glad he

didn’t call you a cock sucking fag that needs to go home and finish fucking his mother...........which do you think is the proper response......NOW, I'm not going to go into the whole "nigga", "nigger",

conflict, because it is equally absurd. One word is hate filled and the other is a term of endearment("whites" need not apply for a word visa for either word).....(but then again, there’s no such thing as a "white" race either). SOOOoooooo, what would you  rather be called "n-word"-- or #3.......which did

you guess.....well.......out with it.......NEITHER!!!!.....If some dick screams at you and disrespects you KICK HIS ASS....or just laugh and walk away. Now ,,,,,the people of color

(colored people).....(words again)...were all pissed off ...../////NOTICE how they switched the words around and made it alright for everyone.....fucking bullshit...ANYWAYS.....to ANYONE,,,, who thinks that I, shotgun mike, am

racially insensitive,,,,FUCKOFF...to  those that think I can't possibly understand. HERES SOME INFO FOR YOU...ABOUT ME........growing up in a lower middle class neighborhood....I was an overweight (fat), redheaded (carrot top), freckled dorky kid who played D&D and got picked on/ beat up pretty

much every day of my life from age 7-16......what happened then you ask??? I started kicking peoples asses that talked shit to me....then people would think about talking shit, and say something to their hater friend,, and the friend would say, "that guy will kick your ass if you talk shit"......hence, the shit talking stopped. NOW, although it sounds like

an easy fix, there is another response that I learned, because you cant beat up the whole world. LAUGH and talk shit back. Call them a name. Call them an "Australopithecus".....Are some words more harsh than others...?   Are there??

Semantics.......(that means the context of word usage) ...(fucking morons).NOW, do I actually think all of you out there are a fucking (this word only serves to accentuate the next word)....morons

(person with an IQ between 50-65)...NOW...if you know you don’t fit the description of a "fucking moron",

you would just laugh and think I was an

"asshole"...Now I would laugh, because I have an asshole, but I am not one (usually).....see what I'm saying?...ON A SIDE NOTE.....as I "googled" the data

for the moron IQ info.....some other funny shit came back....YOU are an "imbecile" if your IQ is 49-20,

 and you are an "idiot" if the IQ is below

20.......So technically a kid who is "mentally challenged"(ahem),,,,could start out as a complete idiot, then go to school learn some stuff and run home to his daddy and say, "Daddy , I'm not an Idiot anymore, I'm a Moron.......(insert laugh track).......(yawn).......NOW...in that same logic, what is a NIGGER?.. lets consult the dictionary. Lets see now.........ah, here it is...."a disparaging term to a black person" (pretty

vague to me)......please consult the above answers "n-word" or #3....to see which sounds worse........OR MY FAVORITE DESCRIPTION....Used as a

disparaging term for a member of any socially, economically, or politically deprived group of people....HENSE, the (shrinking) middle and the lower economic classes of Americans are viewed by the Elite, Rich Ruling class as niggers, doesn’t matter what your skin color is, it is a derogatory term, basically saying that you are a low class worthless person.....NOW....I HAD a "friend"

that is "black",(yes, I have more that

1) that I tried to DISCUSS this issue with, and he wouldn't even listen to me. He said that he grew up in the South and he wouldn’t stand to listen to me talk like that....I asked for him to hear me out, but he just walked away.....I felt like a total idiot, because now I think this guy (who used to talk with me and

be cool with) thinks I am some racially insensitive asshole . Now I hope all you readers out there understand that we are ALL considered niggers by the rich ruling elite. POINT TAKEN? Do I agree that there are race problems in amerika? OF course. Do I think racism still exists? Of course. But I see the larger picture, I see SOME light skinned people walking around that think they are part of this

"white race", and that they are superior somehow, to those of different colors. Which shades calculate "white".....if a white guy goes to the beach and gets a tan, can he become a different race..?? vice versa (fuck Michael Jackson)...SEE, if amerikans weren't so stupid ......they would UNDERSTAND these things I have just explained.....THE PROBLEM IS ECONOMICS, NOT RACE see, everyone reading this article is looked upon as a nigger by the government and rich ruling classes that own 70% of the US. I don't care what your skin tone is , you have no power, they play the "races" against each other , keep em stupid and voting on the next American idol, and laugh because you "amerikans" have no idea of class conscientious. They spend your taxes on wars, and military and foreign policy, while we have

no health care or decent schools /education, affordable housing, etc...THEY ARE LAUGHING AT

US...if amerikans ever WAKE UP, and realize the if you're white or black--- ITS MEANINGLESS, unless you're rich (and elite)....you have no value to them.....WE ARE ALL middle, lower class niggers. But US niggers, one day will rise against this system of

oppression, and knock those bitches right on their ass. HAPPY NEW YEAR. Solidarity...shotgun mike

Hello y’all. It’s The B here again, and this one’s called, “Lost Wages Stripp-Whores.” As you might have inferred from the title of this article, I have recently returned from Las Vegas. I must tell you all that Pharaoh was in effect there brother (Hulk Hogan voice inflection) and not just over at the Luxor either. I arrived in Vegas the first night of Hanukkah (or Chanukah if you are near someone and feel like spraying while saying). For reezy my neezy, I went all over the fuckin’ place and didn’t see one speck of anything Hanukkah related. “Didn’t we Jews invent Las Vegas?” Of course we did, and being that we did, why is there no Jewiness about this desert region? I bet the Luxor hotel wasn’t even built by a Jewish construction company, and why wouldn’t they hire one, I mean, look at the awesome job we did on the original- and at such a bargain price too. Seriously though (well almost), I came to Vegas for my friend Ed’s bachelor party, and since I was the eldest one, and the only one present who held a bachelors degree, I figured I better do my part with regards to showing these guys why I remained a bachelor for almost 37 years (by choice (a.k.a. Say Anything).  I came to this land of debauchery with money in my pocket ($500.00), a dreidel, but sadly, no banjo on my knee. I brought the dreidel not only because of Hanukkah, but also because I’ve always had a dream of creating a Jewish themed casino hotel. Picture a crowded gaming floor complete with backgammon tables and dreidel tables. I can just see the dealer waving a hand over a spinning dreidel on a table saying, no more bets, as he waves his hand over the falling dreidel. Next the yell of Gimel, a winner sounds from his bearded mouth. I know it’s just a dream but maybe one day it could become a reality. We could call it Mandle-A-Bagel, Lox-O-Fun, or Shlomo’s Palace. I’ve got another idea too for an Armenian themed hotel casino: I’d call it Sarkis –Sarkis. It would smell of cool water and cigarettes, but that’s another story, so back to the bachelor party. The first night of my trip, and of Hanukkah, I brought my dreidel everywhere I went. I spun it everywhere. I was having a drink at one of the bars in the Hooters Hotel and Casino and spinning it on the bar saying Happy Hanukkah to everyone who happened to glance in my direction. One person who happened to glance in my direction had a cowboy hat on and gave me a look of disgust as he turned away from my direction. Seeing this I said, Chappy Chanukah Choss (spit sound of h for the ch, as in charoset, not the ch sound as in cheese (dairy). He then got up and left. Great success as Borat would say. I probably sent that guy back to the south with the notion that Vegas is crawling with Jews- awesome! Antics like these continued throughout the evening, and as my drinking increased, the barrage of stupidity increased as well. The boys and I decided to travel around to different hotels and scope out the scene. We went over to the Tropicana, where some of our crew was staying. I arrived with dreidel in hand and coin purse in pocket, not to mention the $500.00 in twenties I had in my wallet. I attempt to personify the stereotype of my people to its fullest wherever I go. I even stole a buy a drink get a free drink coupon from one of the guys staying in the room. I later used said coupon. We went down to the tables, Ark started playing blackjack (boring), Hef (Jew) started playing penny slots, and I capitalized on this by ordering a drink every time the bar wench (sorry I don’t know what else to call her, I play Dungeons & Dragons. Did I mention I’m single ladies?) I kept ordering drinks and tipping a dollar a drink. That’s the same tip a stripper gets for teasing you, and I can at least get my date (Latin for my hand) drunk for that dollar. That’s good ‘cause that means that it will most likely fall asleep later and thus simulate a female giving a handjob. I call it the sleeper, try it. Here’s what you need to do: first, get drunk, next sit on the hand you are least proficient with (-2 penalty if you belong to any of the Warrior classes), finally, mamasay mammasow mammakusa, in other words, beat it. Viola, you’ve just graduated 8^th grade (in some ways, I never have- obviously), so go celebrate by begging some 7-11 patron buy you beer. Even if you can legally buy it- don’t! This will ruin the whole effect. Next go into your room with your well-concealed horde (A six-pack of King Cobra tall cans) and listen to Duran Duran’s “Save A Prayer,” dedicating it to that imaginary special someone. Some people call it a one-night stand, but we could call it paradise. Anyway, as you can see, I don’t remember much of what happened that night, so let’s go on to day 2. On the second day of Hanukkah, I woke up but did not go down to the store to look for a job, nor hang out in front of said store, nor finally receive said job keeping people from hanging out in front of said store (thank you Cheech and Chong). I went down the strip with Hawk and met up with the guys at an outdoor bar and grill to continue drinking. After about five hours, I successfully completed Zork. I slew the Grew, and I started feeling like shit, which by coincidence, I soon made a lot of. Of course, there was no way to tell how much I made, as most of it was in its liquid state. I excused myself and started back to the hotel (foolishly), after trying to comprehend the directions Hawk had given me. I wandered into the MGM Grand and got lost. While I was doing this, my stomach decided that it was time to empty its contents. It was either Canada or Argentina, and I had to decide quickly. I made it into one of the MGM Grand’s bathrooms and quickly dispensed my soft serve and decreased the MGM Grand’s value by at least $19.99.  So from now on all must refer to that place as the MGM $980.01. After this 20 minute fiasco, I some how made it back to my hotel about an hour later. I continued to emancipate the contents of my stomach. I had mud butt, and when that stopped, “I also puked. Oh what fun!”  When I finished this extra curricular activity, I passed out and missed the strip club evening. That was ok though, because I hate strippers. They suck, and not in the way I want them to.  A horny guy paying a stripper to tease him is like a fat guy paying a restaurant to let him smell the food- lame! Go get a whore if you want sex. It’s just a service; like getting a haircut. And walking through a Vegas hotel on a Friday or Saturday night they’re everywhere. It’s like that scene in Hollywood Shuffle with the Zombie pimps and hoes. I’m an obsessive-compulsive germaphobe and neurotic as hell, otherwise I would use the services of whores all the time. I have friends that are ten years younger than me married to women ten years my junior as well. They complain to me all the time about how their wives won’t give them sex. What kind of shit is that? What’s worse is these same guys go to strippers and pay them not to have sex with them. Guys you’re already paying one woman a lot of money not to have sex with you, and that’s enough as far as I’m concerned. Paying strippers, I can’t go for that, no can do I. Now torturing them is another story. My friend Paul and I are notorious for torturing strippers. I have been smacked by strippers for making such comments as, is that a caesarian scar? Is that a kid’s head hanging out of your cooch? And who ordered the rare roast beef sandwich?  But the most notorious (there I’ve used that word twice so now I want to hear the Duran Duran song of the same name) stripper incident ever involved Paul, myself, and a stripper that was the spitting image of Iggy Pop. We were invited to one of our friend Landon’s parties. Landon has a party with about the same frequency as I have a beer. Anyway, this anorexic stripper got naked and started lap dancing Landon. This was not hot. This was gross. So Paul and I started throwing the party snacks at this waif. This was much to the dismay of Iggy’s handler, who I thought was a guy, but Paul later pointed out to me that it was a woman. I couldn’t believe it though, because she looked like Russell from The Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids Show. We continued our barrage of food against Iggy. Grapes hitting gapes, peanuts hitting penis, complete anarchy, until finally this girl said to Paul, “Stop it! She’s a human being!” To this, Paul replied, “don’t be ridiculous!” It was then that I felt an inspiration that was magical. I went up to the food table and filled a plate with pieces of submarine sandwich. Then when Landon was sitting in a chair and Iggy was fully nude and grinding her crotch into his peanut M&Ms, I ran up and held the sandwiches in her face. I was almost pissing in my pants, and what made it worse was that Paul let out a primal howling laugh the likes of which I have never heard before or since. So after recanting this tale, I now realize that it’s probably for the best that I didn’t make it to the strip club the second night. The third day (of Hanukah) in Vegas found me feeling all the better. It’s amazing what a night of shitting and puking followed by a 12-hour power nap will do for your constitution (9 average, so I can’t qualify for the Ranger Class). I went down stairs and being a Jew immediately checked my funds. I was about $100.00 down. Playing craps shitfaced drunk is never a good idea. I was determined to correct this mistake, so I started drinking light beer, and I hit a crap table. Within an hour, I had turned $40.00 in bets into $200.00; I collected my winnings and celebrated with a $6.95 prime rib meal. All in all it was a good time. See you in the upcoming goyim year of 2007 or the current Jewish year of 5767- B

You know what to do. Hate Him.