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Today, as I was on my way to the gym, I decided maybe I would park my car near my old college campus, and go for a jog through there.  It’s been a few years, and I know a lot of construction has been done so it might be a nice change in scenery.  Freshman were still moving in and people were throwing around footballs and frisbees.  It might take my mind off the fact that it was almost 100 degrees and humid as shit.  So throughout this glorious stroll through campus, I was being extremely perceptive and I took in a few things that I thought would warrant mentioning with a few personal thoughts.  Enjoy...

1.  When did they start letting 12 year olds into college?  Seriously, what the fuck?  I know i’m getting a bit older and my perceptions of my undergrad days are potentially skewed, but probably 50% of these kids seriously looked young enough to be MY kids.  25% percent of them may be medically proven to actually be my kids.  Just kidding...

2.  Why is it that Asians always appear to be in a rush.  They were fucking whizzing by me in a fast walk while I was actually jogging.  They are so fast...like ninjas.  But it's a Sunday and there is no class!  Listen up Asians, in this country, you will NOT be caned if you are late for class, or a group meeting or wherever the hell you're going.  Take it slow.  I know you don't have sweat glands and couldn't be bothered by the heat, but smoke a doober and relax.

3.  What the fuck is up with Europeans?  I ran by this guy and girl that were clearly not American and fit the stereotypical European 'look'.  The girl was wearing a rather heavy mid-length dress and some stoopid looking Miss Piggy black leather shoes.  Outside of the outfit, she may have been kinda hot, but not on this day...did I mention it was almost 100 degrees?  And the dude...I wish I were making this up...the dude had on what I would describe as ball-snug tight DENIM CAPRI PANTS!!!  Capri pants on a dude is basically just telling everyone that you are eagerly awaiting some sweaty smelly European homo to have his way with your recently bidet-rinsed hairy shit pipe...  You make those capri pants tight and denim, and i’m sorry my friend, but you’re definitely looking to buy a one-way ticket straight to Poundtown.  Ease up and buy some shorts or atleast some regular length pants, and loosen them up.  You may want your balls to produce sperm for your boyfriend's protein shake one day.  These fucking Europeans man...  I just don’t get it...

<Tangent Break>  Speaking of Europeans...I have this rule to NEVER go to Wal-Mart on Fridays after 3pm because of all the hood rats cashing their welfare checks, but also to never go from mid-August through mid-September because these little college fucks are all moving back in and their parents feel the need to load them up with $400 worth of toilet paper and frozen dinners...  Well, last weekend, I broke my own rule.  It was a Saturday evening and the place was jumping.  In addition to the normal hood rats with food stamps, trust fun babies with daddy's Amex black card, and trailer trash families running up the credit card debt, there was an otherworldly amount of Europeans there buying 6-10 months worth of shit.  I don’t know if they were from Spain or France or Italy or what the deal, but they looked American at first glance and were ‘white’, but they didn’t speak a single word of English.  And let me tell you, the dudes stunk like they just went frolicking through an onion patch followed by a roast beef sandwich factory, some of the chicks had hairy legs and armpits, and then some of the chicks were smoking hot, wore minimal clothing and let their titties hang out their tubetops and their butt cheeks hang below their short-shorts.  In the latter respect, it was kind of cool I guess.  But not only did some of them smell like dogshit, and there was clearly a language barrier, but these fuckers have no manners/common sense.  Over here, traffic flows on the right, we say ‘excuse me’ when cutting in front of people, and we don’t ram our carriages into the pissed off white kid in front of us while waiting in the 47-minute check out line.  Figure it out already!  A few kids had ipods in while they shopped as well, and I can only imagine that they were listening to techno music as loud as humanly possible.  

4.  When the fuck are these kids going to realize that it is NOT COOL to blast their music and bass in their cars as high as humanly possible?  It will NOT help you score chicks.  Especially when you’re six dudes rolling in the front seat of your beat up 1994 Dodge Dakota.  My main man Ice Cube once said back in 1988 ‘We didn’t get no play from the ladies, with six ni**as in the car, Are You CRAZY?’  Ice Cube knew what he was talking about and should be considered an American Icon for people of all ages.  Toss out the Flo-Rida and 50 Cent CDs and go listen to some old school NWA and get a fucking clue.  I don't need to hear the bass pumping out of your shit box from 3 miles away and chicks aren't gonna be like 'Damn, I love that song!  Can I suck yo dick?'  It's not gonna happen.  Save a tiny bit of ear drum function so you can hear your customers ordering burgers in 3 years.

5.  Last but not least...  I will openly admit that I lived through a few trying years where my fashion sense may not have been up to par.  I wore IOU sweatshirts and BUM Equipment shirts and Skidz and British Knight sneakers, and I even may have been known to peg my pants once or twice along the way.  I was a victim of the times.  Unfortunately, it DOES happen.  But it was either short lived or I was lucky that digital cameras were not yet invented, because there are only a handful of pictures with me in these ridiculous outfits that exist to this day.  I look at them know and think ‘What the fuck was I thinking?  What a fucking loser!’  I’m just gonna give fair warning now to you terds wearing the crooked ugly as shit skater DC hats with your perfectly groomed stoopid looking mop hair hanging out underneath...and your WAY too big t-shirts with stupid designs...and your nut hugging tight jeans(don’t even get me started on this phenomenon)...  You look like fucking idiots and you are going to drastically regret this decision in 10-20 years.  TRUST ME!!!  You have been given fair warning!!!  If it weren’t for roofies,  and chicks blacking out all the time, and ‘gay’ being cool, you would NEVER get laid.

Otherwise, my stroll through campus was lovely.

SnoozCream

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Ok, so we are still a month away from opening day in the NFL.  The Sox/Yankees just split a 4 game series.  There's nothing REALLY worthwhile to talk about.  I am finally getting around to catching up on the most recent season of the new 90210.  And I thought, 'Maybe I need to have a dickoff between the new vs. original'.  I mean, obviously nothing can ever touch the original, but broken down character by character, it might be a crapshoot.  Here is what I spit out...

Brandon Walsh	VS.	Dixon Wilson

Brenda Walsh	VS.	Annie Wilson

Kelly Taylor	VS.	Naomi Clark

Donna Martin	VS.	Erin Silver

Dylan McKay	VS.	Liam Court

Andrea Zuckerman	VS.	Navid Shirazi

Steve Sanders	VS.	Teddy Montgomery

David Silver	VS.	Adriana Tate-Duncan

Ok, so i’ll come right out and say what we’re all thinking...For anyone who watched the All-Star Legends and Celebrity Softball game after the Home Run Derby yesterday, you all were there...Jennie Finch is just flat out HOT!!!  She makes watching softball fun.  Shit, i’d watch a chess match if she were playing.  It’s just a fun experience for the eyes and the mind.  Let’s all take a moment and soak it in....
                                                                                              

Just like Theo's friend 'Cockroach' in the Cosby show or Jules from Pulp Fiction would say 'Now THAT....is a tasty burger.'   So with that said, the Home Run Derby yesterday was boring as hell, as per usual.  I mean, I still get excited to watch it every year.  I make sure i’m done doing what i’m doing and I sit and stare for 2 hours at some of the most boring shit one can ever witness.  The aforementioned Softball game after it was much more exciting.  I mean, how often do you get to see MC Hammer hitting home runs and the huge guy from The Green Mile heckling fat John Kruk?  All I wish is that they treated us to a Rickey Henderson interview.  Rickey be instant entertainment.  Rickey be fast.  One of my favorite Rickey Henderson stories is when he fell asleep on an ice pack, got frost bite, and had to miss 3 games...in August!  Then there was the time he slid into home plate after hitting a Home Run.  And who can forget when he was on the Mariners and asked John Olerud why he wore a helmet, and after Olerud told him why, Rickey said ‘No shit!  I used to play with a guy that had the same thing’.  Olerud said ‘Yeah, that was me.’  He was the best.  Even Bo Jackson came out of hiding and hit a home run almost out of the real ball park.  

On that note, is there any doubt at all that Bo Jackson was probably the best athlete of all time?  Google his football highlights...You’ll be amazed.  The guy played 38 games in the NFL and had more prison break long runs than most running backs get in a full career, including pop-warner.  There’s a reason he was so nasty in Tecmo Bowl.  Shit, even if the D called the play each time, he would run everyone over, you’d run back to the goal line and score a 100 yard TD at will.  It just wasn’t fair how good he was; in real life AND in Nintendo life.  He’s definitely the most dominant video game force of all-time without a doubt, atleast offensively(Note:  I know I know, Lawrence Taylor was nasty, too).  Christian Okoye was kinda nasty in Super Tecmo, and you had that stupid fucking play that Montana could throw to TE Brent Jones every time even if it were picked.  My prick neighbor used to ALWAYS be the 49ers and it wasn’t always fair.  But he’s the same kid that would reset the Nintendo in the 4th quarter if he wasn’t gonna win, just so he could go undefeated every season.  Then we’d end up taking the game out, blowing in it for 10 minutes, and trying to put the cartridge back in perfectly so the crack of the cartridge would catch the end and the stupid thing wouldn’t blink and you could actually play again...He even had a notebook that he kept full-season stats in, just so he could break his own records time and time again.  Ahhh, the good old original Nintendo days.  Now these losers play games with head sets and talk to Ching Chang Chong in Thailand while playing Doom or some shit.  You know how I know you're gay?  Because you play video games with a head set...

On another note, George Steinbrenner died today...  Now I don’t wish DEATH upon anyone, but seriously, Steinbrenner was an asshole, so I say good riddance.  I know Joe Girardi just breathed a sigh of relief so he doesn’t have to worry about the threats of getting fired after a 3-game losing streak, even when you have the best record in baseball.  What a jerkoff.  Now his jerkoff sons can continue to keep up his asshole legacy...I’m sure they don’t fall too far from the tree.

I’m watching this All-Star game right now, secretly hoping for another tie some way, some how...  I really wish the Anaheim fans banded together and brought out the thunder stix and the rally monkey for this game.  They don’t have much else to cheer for this year.  They could have all pooled together their 'medical' prescription weed, got stoned and banged those fucking things for the next 4 boring hours.  Would be better than those goddamn vuvuzelas.  As a matter of fact, i'll be happy if I never hear another vuvuzela, or bumble bee, for the rest of my pathetic little life.  And when the FUCK are we gonna get a replacement for Tim McCarver?  This dude is older than dirt, he’s as much of a captain obvious as John Madden, if not worse, and he’s a complete douchebag.  He actually just told us that Cliff Lee was renting Jamie Moyer’s house in Seattle as if it were BIG NEWS and that anyone gives a rat’s ass.  What a shithead.  I can’t stand Joe Buck either but i’ll let him slide...for now.  Maybe Artie Lange can make a post-suicide attempt guest appearance in the 7th inning and make Joe Buck cry again...  Speaking of horrid broadcasters, did Bobby Valentine really predict Jose Ortiz to win the HR Derby yesterday?   Yup...
                                                                                                       
Well, now that the World Cup is over and we don’t have to sit like trained monkeys watching non-english speaking referees blowing calls, i’m gonna go sit in a tree naked, piss on myself, and throw some poop at the passers-by...Snooz Cream!

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So I have to go on a quick rant here.  I’ll admit it...I was home alone tonight and took in an episode of The Bachelorette.  I’m straight enough to admit that I watched it.  I’m not ashamed.  Anyway, it got me thinking, what the FUCK is this world coming to?

First off, let’s just simplify this equation a little bit...Let’s say your hitting on some chick, maybe you’ve even dated her a few times, and she tells you that she likes you but she’s been seeing someone else but she really really digs your shit.  So you’re out at a bar kickin’ it when her ‘other’ guy walks in.  She puts you on hold for 10 minutes, and you see her across the bar as he’s leaving making out with him, then she comes back over to you.  What would you do in that case?  

        a.  Call her a fucking filthy pig whore and pour a beer on her head?
        b.  Break a bottle over her head?
        c.  Take her home anyway and bang her in an uncomfortable place...like the back of a Volkswagon?
        d.  Nail her fat friend?
        e.  Poop in her refrigerator?

I believe there is an answer here for everyone.  I’d probably roll this into a combo and take a, c, and d, but that’s just me.  Bottom line is, you wouldn’t stand for it. So take the aforementioned example, and multiply it by like 15 other guys.  They are all passing this filthy pig whore around, they all go on dates with her, make out with her, probably engage in some heavy petting.  All in similar time frames and they even see it happening half the time.  I fully understand that these guys signed up for this shit, and that they knew what they were getting themselves into, and a few of them probably could care less about her and just want their ticket to be famous.  But some of these clown shoes are really into this and trying to find love!!!  Some of them fell in love with her in the first episode.  You’re pathetic!  And one of the poor fuckers is gonna win, then will have the luxury of watching her whore herself all over national television with multiple guys every week.  There is something drastically wrong with this entire scene.

There’s actually this one fucking faggot on there that keeps talking about this tattoo that he got (WHILE ON THE SHOW!!!) of a heart on his wrist to show her how he wants to protect his and her heart,blah blah fuckity blah...But he hasn’t told her yet.  Tell ya what buddy...that conversation will be the last one you have with her.  Remember the movie Fear with Marky Mark when he tattooed NICOLE 4 EVA on his chest with a razor and pen ink?  Yeah, well you’re a fucking lunatic!!!  You think she’s gonna let you stick around?  She’s probably gonna slap you with a restraining order pal.  Good luck with that.  Thanks for playing.

Last year (yes i’ll admit I watched some of it last year too) the chick picked the one dude who couldn’t get his boner to work the entire season.  I mean granted, can you really blame the guy?  

        1.  There were cameras everywhere, 
        2.  It would be aired on national TV, 
        3.  She’s obviously infested with more crabs than they caught in the entire last season of ‘Deadliest Catch’, and 
        4.  He was obviously gay.  

But how does that ‘relationship’ work after the show?  She told EVERONE that the guy had a malfunctioning boner, and ironically, his name was ED!!!  Coincidence?  I think not!!!  (In reference to # 3, head over to CVS and ask the pharmacist for some 'Rid'.  That should help clear it all up.)

So, that is my rant.  I think it’s gross.  I’d rather head out to the bunny ranch for a night and be that dude paying for sex on ‘The Cathouse’.  He gets more respect from me than these clowns.  But keep fighting guys...She’s DEFINITELY worth it...  And if it doesn’t work out, you can always go into gay porn.  

FYI - The guy just showed her his tattoo and she sent him packing minutes later.  Score 1 for the filth-monger.

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SnoozCream

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Ok, So i'll start this off by saying this...  

It is OK to wear a bluetooth headset when you are:  

1.  In your car and HAVE a phone call,

2.  In your office and HAVE a phone call, or

3.  WORKING and have a job where you need your hands

To the contrary...

It is NOT ok to wear a bluetooth headset:  

1.  On a date with what appears to be an attractive girl at P.F. Chang's in downtown Boston.  True story, this little nerd had what appeared to be a good looking girl out to dinner on a Friday night(after 7pm), yet he was SOOO fucking important, he wore his headset throughout dinner.  Being the math genius that I am, I'll put out a little equation here...  

Dorky Guy + Bluetooth + Good Looking Girl + Nice Dinner = 0 Ass  

It's science.  Write that down tool shed.  

2.  With your family on vacation going to get lunch at 5 Guys.  This one happened yesterday(a Saturday)... I'm out enjoying a delicious bacon cheeshburger when this family with 3 kids comes walking in and ugly white trash Mom in her jean shorts(jorts) and new perm was sporting the bluetooth headset.  Get a clue dirt ball...and MAYBE take a shower and work on a downpayment for your new trailer.  

3.  At the grocery store perusing the organic vegetable aisle...  I know this one has happened to everyone.  It happens to me about twice each time i'm at the grocery store.  Some wannabe 'Real Housewives of <insert your crappy town here>' stay-at-home mom is staring right at you talking while she's trying to pick out a mammoth-sized cucumber to stuff herself with later since she's past her prime and her rich unattractive husband is in France somewhere with one of his mistresses...  Yeah, then you say 'What's that?' to her because you think she's talking to you, when she makes a snobby ugly bitch face and turns her tanning bed leather skin mechanic job fake boobs back to her cucumber and starts quivering with lust while she continues her conversation with her whore friend who hasn't worked since the strip club in '89...  Yeah, I said it.  Then you end up doing the same thing when you run into her in the parking lot loading groceries in her Lexus SUV.  I hate you!   

4.  In line at Walmart getting your government assisted WIC baby formula.  The poor 109 year old lady with a whispy moustache and hearing aids cashier tells you how much it costs as you continue your worthless conversation about Pookie who got locked up last night for shoplifting some diapers and chocolate milk, talking loud enough so everyone in the front half of the store can hear your story.  You think you could wait until you get back to your friend's 'borrowed' Escalade?  

5.  At the gym as you walk your fat ass on the treadmill or elyptical machine.  This one I see almost every morning.  It's either some big fat woman talking to the babysitter about how she's not sure who the baby's daddy is, or some skinny little bitchy frat girl who can't wait to find out who Vanessa boned last night after the Kappa Kappa Gamma mixer... 'She was soooooo wasted wasn't she!!??!!'  Cell phones should be banned from gyms PERIOD!  

Ok, ok, ok...i'll stop.  But you get the picture.  I think I painted a solid picture here as to what i'm getting at, who pisses me off, why you're a moron, and why this angers me so much.  Get a friggin clue.  Wearing these stoopid blinking headsets is NOT cool.  It should be out of necessity only.  If you read this and it infuriates you, you are a loser douchebag a-hole and there's a good chance that you are well on your way to some much deserved raduio wave induced brain cancer as well.   Get a life!  If you agree with me on all accounts, then you are obviously very bright, good-looking and amazing in the rack.  Get some.

SnoozCream

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Problem Solving

Sometimes I drink too much.  Sometimes I drink too much and wake up in my own bed.  And sometimes I drink too much and wake up in someone else’s bed.  Sometimes I drink so much that I wake up in other people’s cars, apartment vestibules, wives, etc. etc.  You get the picture.  One time, on two occasions, I drank too much and woke up in Washington Square Park in the heart of the Village, downtown NYC...yes...twice.  One of those two times I was found only in my boxers wearing someone else's argyle socks and for some reason, someone had completely covered my gross fat body with homophobic slurs, using a permanent marker, even though I'm obviously too husky and moss covered to be gay.   

Now, there are some people who would call this a problem, and I would agree with them because they might even definitely be correct.  But when one has a problem, the best thing to do is to face it head on.  In the immortal words of Alfred the Butler, played by Michael Caine in Batman Returns, "Why do we fall down Master Bruce?  Why, it's to pick ourselves back up." 

So that's what I do.  I pick myself back up and face the problem head on.  As I see it, my biggest problem is that when I wake up on some of these days, people and society want me to do stuff that I don't really want to do because I don't feel very good and don't really want to do stuff.  Like, anything at all.  Therefore, much like the state of Israel, I have willed it to be and manifested a destiny for myself in which I have conquered the majority of my problem simply by choosing my current career path:  New York City Public School Teacher.  Word is Bon Scott!     

I mean seriously, I only work something like 181 days a year.  That means I can get completely tardfucked in the brainium over 50% of my time on Earth, in any given year, and not have to worry about work the next day.  Then on those other days when I do have to go to work I can usually spend most of my day avoiding doing stuff I don't want to do.  I'm serious here.  If I play my cards right, on some days I can do almost nothing and it's totally fucking justified and validated by myself and my higher ups.   

All I'm supposed to do is motivate a bunch of little fuckers who don't want to do stuff (like reading and writing), to do stuff they don't want to do.  Which I must say, I'm pretty fucking good at, when I feel like it.  As long as I can keep a rotating bunch of inappropriately dressed and heavily inked youths with copious facial punctures, "actively engaged", essentially, I'm doing my job.   

Now for some of the other windowsill lickers with online master’s degrees, that I call colleagues, this is a serious problem.  I don't get it.  In case you haven't noticed before, kids are dumb.  They have not been on Earth as long as we have and therefore don't know as much as we are supposed to know in order to not be stupid anymore.  Plus, they totally believe you when you speak words, because you can show them you know stuff they don't know, such as the times tables, local geography and who your real father is.  So, being a nice guy, I sometimes give them little basic ideas that will keep kids busy so you can sit back and “facilitate learning” and not get completely SnoozCreamed by the children.  So here we go:    

    1.  Show movies with guns, drugs, titties and swear words. Kids fucking love these things.  Let me tell you.  Plus you can totally find ass-tons of movies that are sort of related to whatever you’re supposed to be teaching at the time.  THEN… you print up a sheet of paper with some stupid questions about how it relates to their life and you make them write about themselves, which is all they really want to write about anyway.  Then all you have to do is sit back and watch the movie, “Crash” for the 87th time and make snide remarks to your co-teacher about how the hell a ridiculously contrived film such as this ever won an Oscar for best picture. 

    2.  Bribery.  Along with being dumb, most city kids are also poor and like sweet things like soda and candy.  You can use these these wants and desires against the young people to get them to do things you want them to do.  In the education field these are referred to as, “extrinsical rewards”.  

Disclaimer:  Most older and more seasoned educators, such as myself, tend to scoff at and publicly mock any teacher who still needs to use this method after their first year or two of teaching.  

    3.  Make shit up.  No seriously.  Just start completely lying to them for no reason whatsoever about the most ridiculous situation in the world, make yourself look really cool in the story and then come to a cross roads where you have to make some sort of difficult decision where you totally pussy out and make them write about how they would have handled the situation differently.   Frequent made up stories of mine include:

A. My vigilante like defense of the Urban Panda Relocation Movement and my use of deadly force on the perpetrators of Relocated Urban Panda poaching.   

B.  How I became the first (real) white Ninja on Earth, in Asia.  

C.  My difficulty in trying to open an illegal baby seal clubbing operation for the purpose of glove making in Downtown Brooklyn. 

    4.  A-Z review.  This actually is a good one and something I use all the time.  You create a contest where kids write the alphabet along a side of very long paper and whichever group of three to four kids who can come up with the most words relating to whatever shit you’re supposed to be learnin’ ‘em, wins “bonus points” on their “final average”, which is complete bullshit because I don’t even pretend to keep track of them. 

Disclaimer: Be sure to keep on top of the little scallywags by “circulating” every few minutes.  The desire to list as many swear words and crude depictions of sexual imagery as is humanly possible is a common urge of the urban youth.  An example of this can be seen in a cell phone picture I took in the room of a young female teacher earlier this year in which the word “Urethra” can clearly be seen misspelled on the chalk board.  Also, circulating can usually be done without the annoyance of actually getting up out of your rolling “teacher chair”.  Remember, if children ever ask to sit in your chair and roll around, you must be firm and immediately deny their request, being as they do not have Master’s Degrees.   
                                                                      

So there you go.  Now most days, I honestly do try my best to, in the immortal words of Ol’ Dirty Bastard, “bring the truth to the young black youth.”  But some days you just don’t feel like doing stuff.  Well here you go.  Problem solved. 

Bunkey's Story:  Bunkey left the bar about 10 minutes before us.  He also got himself some pizza, but he was eating it on the ride home.  Going about 70 around the corner of this gynormous hill, he hits a patch of black ice, flies off the side of the road, bounces off a giant wooden barrier wall...the car bounces back into the street.  He tries to start it and drive away but nothing was happening.  He gets out and looks at the right side of the car, the front axle wasn't even attached to the car any longer.  He said he went to the back of the car and attempted to 'HE-MAN lift it' to the curb to make it look 'parked'.  No dice.  He didn't have many choices remaining, realizing how drunk he was...so he decided to run...Where he crashed was right near what we called the 'International Dorm' which was full of Asians, Indians, and pretty much anyone non-english speaking and from another country.  One Indian kid out on his state of the art cell phone(At this time maybe 10% of the people had cell phones.  Either International Students to call home, or preppy fagget rich frat boys).  This Indian kid saw it all go down...he was a witness...He yells to Bunkey in broken English 'Are you ok?  Can I call 911?'  Bunkey replies in a full sprint 'Go back inside!  Everything is fucking fine!'  Bunkey does a full 3200 meter sprint back to our townhouse complex, and sees public safety officers roaming the area.  So he decides to go through the woods around to the backdoor and knocks on our neighbors' door who lets him in.  'You guys did not see me, and I am not here.  I'll answer questions later.'  He then continues to hide under the bed until we got him a few hours later. 

Bunkey's car got towed that night.  It was completely totalled.  The cops slapped a sticker on it for parking more than 3 feet from a curb...seriously.  Anything Bunkey owned inside the car was stolen...CD's, change, clothes, etc.  An even trade for not going to jail.  Bunkey rode out the 'stolen' claim, and received insurance money for a stolen/totalled car, and we were never apprehended or brought in as fugitives of justice.  Somehow, everyone got away scott free.  He didn't even have to pay the parking ticket since some criminal thief actually parked it there...  That night, someone was looking over our shoulders.  That, my friends, was the night that we saved Bunkey.

When I was a kid growing up in a booze soaked, xenophobic, Rust Belt, shit-burg, that for legal reasons we will refer to as Snooztown, I lived near the tracks.  I suppose as an adult it's fair to say I lived on what is commonly referred to as, "the wrong side of the tracks".  But as a kid anywhere close to the tracks was a good side.  Our mothers always warned my friends and I not go near them because they were dangeroius.  So, like moths to a flame we rarely were attracted elsewhere. 

In my years as a teacher I have come to firmly believe in the theory of "selective hearing".  Every night at 9:00 I couldn't for the life of me hear my mothers voice calling me to bed from three backyards away.  Yet during the middle of a street hockey game all us kids could hear the train from three miles away.  This is how you could tell the train was coming by a simple method.  Someone would simply stop moving mid-stride.  Then someone else would notice this and almost simultaneously we would all scream, "TRAIN!!!", drop our hockey sticks and run as fast as our chubby little legs would let us. 

There were never any passengers on the trains because they were strictly for commercial use since the decline of the steel business.  But we didn't care.  Who the fuck wants to wave to passengers when you're eight years old?  We wanted to chuck rocks!  Huge granite stones exploding like fireworks against the cold iron of the locomotive.  What can I say?  Snooztown was boring even when I was a little kid.  

Since the trains were these great, big, solid, hulking behemoths none of the adults really seemed to care.  Even the railroad employees were somewhat amused by us.  But what the railroad employees didn't know, is that the actual coal cars were only a tease.  We didn't care about those cars one bit.  We were out for one car and one car only... the caboose!  Why you might ask you silly little bastard?  Because the motherfucking caboose had windows. 

Everything before the arrival of the caboose was merely a warm up.  Because in that split second moment between when the rock leaves your hand and when it makes contact with the caboose you had the chance of becoming a GOD amonst the kids on Beaver St. 

Maybe two windows were broken a summer and if that rock came from your hand everybody knew it.  You were even cooler than those kids on Main street who had a skateboard ramp and could do tricks.  I mean, we had skateboards too, but it's not like we ever actually rode them.  We would just carry them around looking cool and kicking them up into our hands a la M. J. Fox in "Back to the Future". 

The only problem with this game of course was in determining who was really was the incontestable, "Rock God" of the neighborhood.  Unfortunately, the game eventually deteriorated into a series of finger pointing and fist fighting over who threw and broke what.  But now that I think about it, that's how most of our hockey games ended too.

Snoozcream.

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So we’ve kinda slacked off as of late with posting new material, and we promise to work on that.  Unfortunately, our ‘other’ jobs have become a little busy and we’ve had a few amazing weekends in a row.  But that’s led me to the premise for this article...   

Over the past few weeks, there has been a lot of drinking and filling our bodies with brain altering substances.  When this happens, we talk about articles and have other discussions that would blow your fucking minds.  Unfortunately, we never write them down, and then the next day rolls around and our brains are likened to the inside of a wrist watch with all of the gears trying to crank, but with a bucket of molasses poured over said gears and nothing actually happening.  We just concluded one of the legendary weekends of our existence, and I sat down to write an email to a few people on Monday morning and it looked like ancient Sanskrit.  Complete crap.  Full sentence fragments missing.  It was bad.   I felt like one of Ludwig's students.

So basically what I’m saying is this, we are all much better at writing these SnoozCream articles when we are either hammered, stoned(so atleast I’ve been told…), or completely and udderly sober with no signs of any leftover substances in our bodies for atleast 1 week.  My final assumption is that beer and weed makes us all smarter while we are in the moment, then dumberer while we detox(like now), and then smart again.  It’s a vicious cycle(No shit I just spelled that ‘psychle’ and had to google it to get the right spelling-still not clear headed).  I had sworn off drinking on Sunday, for atleast a while, but tomorrow is St. Paddy's Day, and Thursday starts the NCAA tourney...and the weather is getting nice....and I can't think of a reason why we aren't gonna just have at it and bring out some fantastic new material to our loyal readers.  So drink up everyone...

-On a side note, we met a man this weekend who went by the name of ‘Eagle Feathers’.  He had 1 plastic leg, a mean gray pony tail, claimed to be of Navajo descent, road a motorcycle, and had a helmet with a sticker reading ‘My inner child is a mean little fucker.’  He introduced us to words like ‘Monoganer’, which apparently is someone who is married or has a significant other.  He asked us to watch the bathroom door for him while he took a dump which ended up stinking the entire bar like shit.  And I’m pretty sure he took a midget home on the back of his bike hammered drunk.  For all intents and purposes, he was epic, and I wish I was creative enough to make ANY of this up.

Sometimes I think, although we live in the greatest country in the world, we are the stupidest, most enabling society known to mankind.  Work in a public service field for a few years and you’ll have many examples to what I speak of.   

How long must this cycle of government assistance dependent morons go on breeding before we realize we’re going against Darwin’s Survival of the Fittest in the modern day world?  I look at it this way, being that the human race are highly evolved animals of our own right, how long would those ‘students’ in Ludwig’s class last in the wild?  Not very long.  They would be snatched up at a watering hole by a hippopotamus in a blink of their lazy eye.  Better yet, they might not have ever been born at all due to their father not having the chance to dump his muddy load into mom’s stink burger due to an untimely mauling by a lion.  Or perhaps instead they might just all be walking around blind from staring at the big, shiny, warm thing in the sky.  In any case, these unproductive leaches of society would never have been born or in the worst case scenario would become extinct quicker than the dodo bird from plain and simple ineptitude.  We are doing ourselves a disservice by allowing such tomfoolery to happen…over and over and over again.  What business do retarded people have reproducing?  It certainly didn’t work the first go’round.  What makes you think two droolers are going to conceive an Einstein?  It’s not going to happen, or undoubtedly not enough to offset the other 99% of drooler offspring out there with shit in their pants masturbating next to you on an airplane.  

Now, I’m not trying to get all Fourth Reich on your ass here and call for these people’s outright extermination by tainting the world’s supply of welfare cheese with oxy clean,  but there certainly is something to be said for the concept of Social Darwinism when checking the prime time scheduling of the WB network.  What we need to do is give these toothless mouth-breathers the tools to perform their own dicktard cleansing.  Sort of a Kevorkianesque solution but with added entertainment value.  I’m thinking we could put it on pay per view and sort of pattern it after UFC mixed martial arts combat.  However, instead of figuring out whose dad beat them with a wrench more when they were younger we could determine who is deserving of a life filled with Pop Tart and RC Cola Thanksgiving dinners.  It would be great.  We could have battle royales or we could have a one on one cage match.  You know like in Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome except here it would be, “Two Tards enter.  One Tard leaves.”  The weaponry could consist of extremely large books or laptop computers which they could use to smash each other in the face or poke each other in their extremely close together Fetal Alcohol Syndrome eye sockets.  The loser dies and then the winner gets to spend an hour in a padded room, the walls of which would be covered with door knobs, to hump for about an hour or so before being cast back into the Retardagon for another round.  If they win ten matches in a row they will be awarded a life time supply of Ed Hardy t-shirts and Dust Off cans to huff for dinner every night at the championship Retard Retirement Zoo in Maycomb County Alabama.  Talk about win-win solutions.  Here we go.  Watch your back West Virginia.  

I have a few solutions of my own but would like to hear from any of you reading this as well.  Send your solution to snoozcream@gmail.com with ‘solution’ as the subject and I’ll compile a top ten list as my follow up.  Enough is enough.