Long Night

Standing on a busy street corner, watching Robin Williams taking a shit on a glass coffee table, wiping his ass with a pregnant tissue paper Brittany Speers.

A crosswalk light changes, informing me that it is now time to cross the street. I step from the curb and am immediately struck down by a flying fish with ‘carp’ tattooed on its side in large, fluorescent orange, lettering.

The fish then begins sharing a tale about the lettering and how he was so pleased with the shop that did the tattoo and what a fine job they did and how he really likes the artist and that he tried to exchange sexual favors to pay for the tattoo, but the artist was not into fish. The shop owner, however, referred the fish to a friend, but at this time the fish lost interest in his own story and swam away in an errant breeze.

I am now standing in the street, alone and confused, wondering where I was going to before the fish stopped me, and the storm sewer opens up and swallows me whole.

The storm sewer turns out to be the chocolate tunnels from Willy Wonka’s Factory, and it sweeps me along for miles and miles where I accidentally learn the deep, dark, secret of the candy world; Hersheys Chocolate is manufactured from stolen Willy Wonka tunnel sludge.

I start looking for an escape route to share this information with the world and incidentally making myself a pile of money when the liquid chocolate rears up and forms into a chocolate Hulk Hogan, intent upon destroying me and keeping the secret.

That’s when I woke up.

No more salmon burritos before bedtime for me!

Cats

Considering the troubles that I have with Gnomes while I am on the road, you might wonder how I keep the annoying critters at bay when I am at Sanctuary.

I keep cats

Yep. I have a couple or three cats that keep Gnomes away. Cats can see Gnomes in all their guises and hate them even more than I do. Gnomes are generally larger than cats but I have never met a self-respecting cat that can’t kick a Gnome’s ass in an unfair fight. (Gnomes avoid any fight that is not heavily in their favor and still lose more often than they admit.)

Did you ever wonder what your cat is staring at when it has been intently watching that corner of the living room for hours? Did you ever wonder what the cat is doing when it is running around the house for no apparent reason like it has a rocket engine shoved up it’s butt.

It’s the Gnomes. Cats have been genetically engineered by the aliens-that-are-watching-our-every-move to see Gnomes in any guise and stalk them relentlessly.

I don’t travel with a cat because it’s not fair to the cat. Changing homes every few months pisses a cat off and a pissed off cat pisses on things just to let you know that it is pissed. (They can’t talk and they can’t type worth the shit, although mine try, but the results are cryptic at best.)

Sanctuary is safe inside, but the cats can’t keep the drunken bastards from raising hell outdoors. (Literally. Hell is now closer to us than ever before. If you don’t believe me, go to Brownsville Texas.)

SSSHP

I am convinced that somewhere out there, hidden behind shiny glass doors and corporate facades, hides the Super Secret Society of Happy People.

The SSSHP is an organization that is made up of all those amazingly perky and optimistic people that you just want to bitchslap for being so annoyingly cheerful before coffee and are always giving you the ‘my glass is half full’ bullshit.

The SSSHP holds Super Secret meetings deep in well lit, comfortable, clean, and brightly colored offices, plotting new and unique ways to make everyone feel joy in just being alive, all the while sipping tasty and invigorating drinks and nibbling wonderful finger foods. (And avoiding run on sentences.)

They meet to discuss ways to remove pain and suffering from this world and how no make it so there could never be another war. They come up with ways to feed everyone so no one would ever go hungry and then they solve all problems that color, race, or religion have ever caused.

They are all fukkin’ crazy.

When I look at the world I see a place that has ugly diseases and stupid people in it. I do not believe that diseases are ever going to go away. Every time we kill one disease, another grows up to fill that niche. Say “Hi!” to Mother Nature.

We breed stupid people in this country like rabbits and then pay them to continue being stupid while they make more people that stand a very good chance of also being stupid, maybe even stupider.

The only way you are going to eliminate war is to eliminate people. Everyone always comes up with some reason to hate some other person. It has been like this since Gronk hit Ugh with a rock and will continue until mankind is just a memory.

I do not believe that man will ever eliminate hunger. People who produce food feel it has value, and people that want food sometimes have nothing to give for it. If they have nothing except hungry mouths, I think it’s a good bet that they are going to get no food.

Human nature is what it is. We are not going to change that fact no matter how much we tell ourselves that we can just click our heels together three times and chant, “We can make all the bad things go away”. This planet is always going to be a bit of a shit stain on the bright white underwear of the universe. Get used to it.

In the meantime, the SSSHP will continue exercising their ‘right’ to make fools of themselves, wishing things away and voting to bell the cat.

I hope they are having a good time. If I ever happen to come upon one of their meetings I will probably laugh my ass off until I get so pissed off at rampant idealism that I just say or do something to ruin their whole day.

I am just that kinda guy.

Imaginary radio

Excerpts from an imaginary radio show that popped into my twisted brain after hearing an advertisement for the ‘Dr. Laura’ show ;

The Doctor Larry Shitslinger Show On Cerberus satellite radio channel 666…..

“Hi caller.”

“Hi Doctor Larry. Thanks for taking my call.”

“Yeah. It’s kinda what we do here. Without your call we would just be talking to the voices in my head, and that is not entertainment. Now, what can we do for you? Do you want to sleep with your mom or household pet, sell your wife into white slavery, or drink the warm blood from chickens?”

“Uh…no.”

“Then why are you calling, caller?”

“Well, it’s a long story.”

(Yelling)“Then now is the time to start, dammit! This is a radio show!”

“It’s about my mom…”

“Now that’s more like it! The listeners want to hear more about your mom. Lots more about your Mom. Did she beat you with dirty sweat-soaked socks or do revolting things to your sexual organs while giving you a bath?”

“Uh…no.”

(Yelling)“Then let’s get with it! What about your mom?”

“Well, she has been having problems.”

“What kind of problems? Is she unable to evacuate unless there is a dwarf in the room, recurring nightmares of being eaten by clowns, post traumatic stress disorder from being beaten by your father for not satisfying his desire to have sex with common barnyard animals?”

“Uh….no.

(Yelling)“Then what is it? Time is wasting!”

“She seems to have an unhealthy relationship with food.”

“Great! I like the sound of that. When you say ‘unhealthy relationship’, do you mean that you caught her pleasuring herself with a vegetable or that she is talking to pork chops like they are dead relatives?”

“Uh…no.  She just eats too much.”

(Screaming now)“Then just take her food away, asshole! Why do people like you call with this kinda stupid shit? The answer is OBVIOUS! This is Entertainment, not just a forum to let you express your inner stupid! I can’t be entertaining and morally superior when you are calling in with lame shit like this! Give me something I can work with! I have a career to think of, you know!”

“Time for a commercial. (Pause)  Jesus, Larry, why did you let that one get through?”

Click

Cheaper than dating

I saw a billboard while in Denver that tickled my inner asshole. (Not literally, you pervert!)

The sign was directing people toward the local porno house/ adult toy store.

At the bottom it proclaimed in happy, bold letters;

It’s cheaper that dating!

True, blunt, and sounds like something I used to say;

Masturbation is the next best thing to being there.

Advertising is finally catching up with my sense of humor.

What is this world coming to?

Movie Review "Barnyard"

I went to see the movie “Barnyard”, yesterday. I was anticipating a fun flick filled with wonderful human characterizations and insights into the human/bovine experience.

What I got was socially acceptable drivel and gender confusion.

The jokes could have been MUCH funnier, but the powers that be were afraid to even come close to approaching that line of ‘what is in good taste’. Jay Ward (Rocky and Bullwinkle) made adult humor in a kid’s show fun and acceptable. The writers of this movie could not hold a candle to him.

The gender confusion involves the lead ‘man’ having teats. I don’t get it. Why in hell would the makers of this movie put teats on this character? Have they never been in a barnyard? Don’t they know that male cows do not give milk? Are they promoting homosexual bovine behaviors?  Is this movie intended to explore questions of gender orientation and I am too stupid to catch on? Am I asking too many questions and should I just sit back and try to enjoy the movie?

The gender issue distracted me for the entire film. I found myself staring at his teats and his big blue eyes, and this bothers me on a level that I would prefer to not get in touch with. Ever. (Shudder)

The animation was good, even great in spots. The backgrounds were distracting in their beauty. Some scenes reminded me of the Warner Bros. cartoons of the 40’s and 50’s and at other times I was stunned by the sheer beauty of the rolling hills. Pay special attention to the fire at the Coyote’s camp near the end of the movie, it is Excellent!

If you have children that you take to see movies, by all means take them to see this one. Do not expect to have a good time yourself unless you are a socialist or loaded on some chemical amusement aid.

I am sure that there are people out there that will strongly disagree, but I want more from public entertainment than ‘lets make nice with those that would eat us’ and ‘we are all the same under the skin’. I get upset with entertainment that encourages men to behave like spineless, irresponsible wimps, backing out a the last moment, showing mercy to an enemy that will just regroup and try again later.

That’s my opinion and I am sticking to it.

Airplane manners

On my trip back from Denver I had the honor of sitting in front of a very young girl that could NOT sit still.

In the approximately fifty-five minutes of the flight my seat was kicked 127 times, nudged 30 times, and pushed 12 times.

So it should not have been a surprise to her or her inattentive daddy that during the landing, when her stuffed bear did an acrobatic flip onto my head, it just kinda……..disappeared.

Her little probing hand groped between the seats to no avail.

She was very unhappy.

She whined like  …well……a little girl.

I left it behind to be found when I got off the plane.

I am not a TOTAL asshole.

Chap Stick and toilet paper

Another 900+ miles under my ass since yesterday,

At least this time I was in a plane, taking it easy and watching video, instead of herding my Big Truck and the Dog House across the country.

Yesterday was the annual gathering of the corporate masses to inform us of policy changes and to make new friends and offend co-workers. My company flies us out of towners to Denver to attend, making for a fun time for some.

I actually appreciate the policy of wanting workers to attend. I applaud the intent but I don’t like the fact that most of my co-workers look at this annual event as an excuse to get drunk and be stupider than usual.

I do, however, like watching to see who is planting their nose firmly into the anal sphincter of someone that they imagine can promote their career. I have come to believe that Chap Stick and tissue should be company issue for these functions.

I have noticed that those that are kissing and licking are usually the ones that are the first to drag others down and need help to get their own work done.

But now that all the nonsense is over, its back to the daily grind and helping the ass kissers get their work done.

Cryogenetics

My work sometimes takes me to different parts of the country and different cultures. Some cultures are just a little too weird for my comfort.

I was working in the Midwest when one of my co-workers was expressing his delight at having bought a new bull. He told us that it was a prize-winning bull and that he was going to sell its semen for big dollars. He even told us that he named the bull after the company we work for and showed phone pictures of this fine example of bovine masculinity. He was very excited about his new acquisition.

He then went on to explain that one could not just collect the semen and freeze it to send to a buyer, oh no, but that you had to ‘cryogenetically’ freeze it. (He had obviously misunderstood cryogenics and genetics and just made them into one word.)

I let him tell us all about his new bovine beauty for about a half an hour and never even made one snarky comment, even though I put quite a bit of effort into not laughing out loud at the situation and his choice of words. He made it sound like he was in love with the damn thing.

Now that this situation is far in the past and I will never see these people again I can share with you (My digital friends) the mind’s eye picture that kept recurring while I was listening to this man share his delight at his unrealized riches from selling his bovine’s seed.

I kept imagining this guy harvesting these precious fluids himself, grinning from ear to ear while holding a receptacle in his free hand.

I shall leave it up to you to figure out what he was doing with the busy hand.

Big Truck

I went out to the little car this morning in order to get my ass to work and was met with a stony silence when I turned the key.

“Dammit!”

I tried fiddling with several things until I realized that I could fiddle my way into being late for work. We can’t have that.

Fortunately I am not without resources. I decided to take the BIG TRUCK.

The BIG TRUCK is the 4-wheel drive behemoth that I use to pull the Dog House from job to job. It is a powerhouse with 10 cylinders and a desire to guzzle gasoline by the gallon. It also is a picky eater that will only consume the more expensive blends of gasoline. “None of that regular, no thank you, just give me premium and keep her coming!”

It also has one of those fancy gasoline computers that will tell you your present gas mileage in real time just at the push of a button. I think of it as a kind of interactive game where my goal is to get the highest score possible. I can get over 20 miles per gallon going downhill with a tail wind and throwing rocks off the back. It usually gets about 12 to 14 miles per gallon when I drive like a human and stay in the drivers seat.

Mrs. Troll appreciates the power of this beast and sometimes goes for the low score.

Me,  “Five miles per gallon? What in hell were you doing? I can get better than that pulling the Dog House uphill into the wind!”

Her, “It’s really got a lot of power, you know? (HEAVY SIGH) How do you reset that damn computer again?”

So now I am trying to get the StepTroll to stop on his way home from football practice and buy me a part that might fix the little car.

If he doesn’t I will soon be riding my bicycle 27 miles each way to work because I can’t afford to drive.

Posting

I should be posting more often.

I have just been so damn happy to be home and do homey things that I have been a bad digital Troll and neglecting my OTHER duties.

I have, however, been enjoying the rain, the being at home with the Trollkin, and getting caught up with all the honeydo’s that have been piling up for seven months.

The next thing on my agenda is to get in touch with my inner cleaver and get on the blogging bandwagon again.

It’s that, or marathon nose picking.

I think I would rather blog.

Big Brother

The lovely and talented Mrs. Troll and I were watching a bit of TV the other night when I asked if she thought I would be voted off the Big Brother TV show. (If, of course, I would ever be stupid enough to submit to that kind of public humiliation.)

“Yes.” She replied, without hesitation.

“Why?” I asked, faking innocence.

“Cause you’re an asshole.” She replied.

You can’t argue with that kind of honesty.

Fishing

Give a man a fish; you feed him for a day.

Teach a man to fish; he will learn to spend hours getting drunk and torturing bait, make up reasons to hate his wife, hang out for long periods of time with immature and irritating men, and learn to lie to make excuses for why he always comes home empty handed.

I blame the fish.