Sunday, November 20, 2011

LOLWUT: It Came From The Internet!!!

I think I've reached the edges of the internet. My sense of humor can no longer be perverted by this bizarre abomination if I am to remain a functioning human.

Look into my darkness.

Big Mike.



Friday, October 14, 2011

Why Scientology and Modern Hip-Hop are a Disgrace, an Open Letter.

 Pictured: How I look when I'm gonna write the fuck out of a blog post.

Dear BET,

I work at a gas station, a gas station where the locals are rude and stupid. A gas station where co-workers will chastise me for listening to my own painstakingly self-neutered, safe-for-work mix because it has too much guitars, is too aggressive or isn't in english. Without a sense of irony, they'll play KGOT full blast, a station that will play the same Eminem/Rhianna song twice in one hour. Of course, spaced out with the same old Rhianna/Nicky Minaj/T-pain/Justin Bieber/Chris Brown/Lady GaGa/Ke$ha/Eminem song over and over and over again. A radio station that, at the time of writing, features 3 stories on their website: one about some jersey shore slut singing on youtube, one about Coldplay, and one about half-priced car paint jobs.

Now, I'll listen to it, purely anthropologically of course, and I will notice a disturbing trend. I'm going to address Hip Hop and Rap here. I don't need to tell you why Lady GaGa, Ke$ha and Bieber suck, because, c'mon. Anyway.

The trend can be best surmised, ironically, by a skit on an Eminem record. Naturally, this is off an album of his that didn't suck.

"You know why Dre's record was so successful? He's rapping about big screen TVs, blunts, fourties and bitches. You're rapping about homosexuals and Vicodin. I can't sell this shit! Either change the record or it's not coming out. Now get the fuck out of my office."

Now, don't get me wrong. Every successful musician has to have some market appeal, or at least appeal to a certain market. Even musicians who have no marketing potential at all gain an audience because no one else likes listening to them, or to put it politely: they're "challenging".

Pictured: Challenging

The problem with modern Hip-Hop and Rap is it's all market appeal. No one listens to a hip hop radio station and learns anything, listens to a cleverly told story or hears anything of substance or feeling. All you will hear is over-paid, under-talented and way over-hyped rappers talk shit about how over-paid, under-talented or way over-hyped they are. Sure you can rhyme, you fuckwad, but can you tell me anything while you do it? It's all about partying, cars, and what they're wearing and drinking. 

Think somewhere between exceedingly wealthy automotive enthusiasts and filthy rich homosexual alcoholics from france.

Just keep on rapping about those 100 dollar bottles of Patron, bitches: those old school rappers even have you beat for conspicuous consumption while drinking.

Seven hundred dollars? Sheeeee-it.

Now call my honkey ass cynical, but even when these rappers are trying to be all "deep" or "meaningful" they come off really bad, and in the case of this song, sleazy as phuck.

Now, I have to admire whoever made this terrible video (I don't admire them enough to look up their name, however) for cramming every woman-growing-up-ghetto cliche out there. Here's what I caught: Woman running out of abortion clinic, baby witnessing domestic abuse, girl getting molested by drunk passed-out mothers boyfriend, dressing like a ho at high school, becoming a stripper, fucking a sleazy looking Mexican dude for money, hallucinating Lil' Wayne then catching HIV. All while fuckhead poses next to a guitar. What's it supposed to say? I dunno. I guess the moral of the story is bitch shoulda had an abortion.

Or conversly, just listen to NWA

Dear Tom Cruise,

I hate your movies, and I fear and distrust your religion

Okay, never mind, I hate your religion too.

Here's why: I ironically sat through one of your soul selling pitches online high on marijuana. Instead of being even close to converted, I began to take apart your arguments point by point, because as I said before, I'm a cynic. And a honkey. Heres the video.

Americans are the most productive people in the developed world, and guess fucking what, we're miserable. "being productive" is just short hand for working 50 hours a week for low pay and no vacation time whatsoever. Did you know I've been working full time for the last year and I don't even get an employee discount, no paid vacation time until two years from now and I have no health insurance? You know what distracts me from that fact? Drugs. Drugs keep me productive. Fuck you, Scientology.

What the fuck does this even mean? I don't care, I call bullshit. How is an educated person going to have time volunteering when they're too busy earning "three times" more then anyone else? If anything, I think a high school dropout will be more likely to service the community. Especially if they're dealing drugs.

Okay, does the church of Scientology sell fucking 12 ounce bottles of empowerment? And furthermore, how the fuck did you get that number? Did you measure and observe abuse? Did you have an abuse control group? How big was your abuse sample?

Who is to say what is moral? how do you quantify morality? Is someone only 50% moral only 35% likely to have a successful marriage? What about the morality of the spouse? If I'm moral but my wife is amoral, are we only half moral? or more or less amoral?

The strategy is really simple: put as many percentiles with no context as they can and hope you fall for it. When they dont have bullshit numbers, they just pretend they're Nancy Fuckin' Reagan.

Here's the Scientology front organization Drug Free World. Here's a video of an eleven year-old doing one line (One hit?) of cocaine and dying because he was a pussy.

Now okay, we all know cocaine is bad, and more importantly too damn expensive, but what about marijuana? I know my marijuana, I smoke it all the time. And because I grew up in England, for my mandated school drug education, I talked to Frank. Frank is a pretty cool guy, and he'll tell you everything you need to know about drugs, even how much you're gonna pay for the shit, because that's what a drug education is supposed to be: fucking educational, not fear mongering. Because I got a decent education, should I ever want to shoot me some smack, I know how to be clean about it. 

Drug Free World, however, couldn't even get any facts straight about something as simple as weed, for christ (Xenu) sakes. Look at this shit.

Now I want you to pay special attention to pages 7, 12, 13, 14 and 21. On page seven we get the ridiculous comparison between marijuana and alcohol, with for some reason is egregiously pro-alcohol. Not mentioned: stoners never beat their spouses or drive high because they can't get off the couch.

LRH: Loved him some drunk minors

On page 12, we see all the bad shit about smoking weed, which could also be a list of side affects to taking too much caffeine and/or Viagra. On 13 we have an anecdotal story about some asshole who smoked so much he turned into Alex Jones. On 14 we have everyone's favorite; the gateway theory. You also know what ever smacked out coke whore did before the mainlined PCP? They drove cars, and went to Wendy's, and watch bugs bunny cartoons. On 21, well, we've got the most air-tight anti-drug tool known to man or beast: A picture of two people on the beach with a caption sagely opining "Not to take drugs in the first place"

Gee, thanks.

You know what: you realize anything is possible, no matter how stupid, when millions of people worship a hack pedophile sci-fi/western author as if he were Jesus and aren't afraid to go outside their house.

I'd rather be on drugs.

Love Big Mike.
(This really should have been two posts, LOLOLOL)

Monday, October 3, 2011

My Name Is Chip... Playlistos Septiembre Veinteséptimo

So yeah, been thinking about making a post on an unnervingly recurring thread in most of my favorite songs, or maybe its that I always seem to be messed up when I listen to music.

I'm now going to classify some of my favorite songs by the drugs they remind me of.

COCAINE (or sniff sniff sniff music)

HEROIN (or music to slap a vein to)


MARIJUANA (or Tetrahydrocannabinollapalooza )

ALCOHOL (or "fuck you, I'm a dragon" juice... music)

ANTIDEPRESSANTS (or oh my god, everything's dandy)

OFF ANTIDEPRESSANTS (or oh my god, everything's shitty)

As always, you're very welcome.

Big Mike.

Ha, just realized my pants aren't on...Playlist 10-3-11

Been listening to a lot more music lately, which is saying something, because that's pretty much what I do all the time. That and drink, but I don't dun do dat no mo. I sure want to though. I may cave and buy some hard cider in a couple of hours. Only time will tell. That is, if I can find my pants.

But alas, some music penises for your ear vagina (or butt, I don't judge)

~Xavier R.

Monday, September 26, 2011

OMFG R.E.M. broke up.

R.E.M. broke up!

Didn't they write that one song? I just found out, in the form of a joke about a guy losing his virginity, during a Conan O'Brien skit.

Anyways, I didn't have enough booze left to go to happy land. Just enough to make it to alright land.

Population: me and my annoying cats.

~Xavier R.

Drunken Hugs

I normally do not like hugging. However when I've been, well, you know. I tend to, well, you know. Then I feel gross. Not in the weird "eww, germs" sort of way, but a "hugging is for puppies and old ladies" sort of way. It's similar to the notion of crying being for little girls and drug addicts. You may know me, personally. You may think "I've seen you hug plenty of times!" Well, that would coincide with a rhetoric of me being drunk, plenty of times.

I have this special thing in my brain, called Notlikeeveryoneelseitis. The prescription from the huggle doctor was lots of hugs growing up, to prevent my Notlikeeveryoneelseitis from turning into sociopathy. Well, it is my staunch belief that I had an allergic reaction to the hugs, and I was stricken sociopathy anyways. Well, minus the occasional violence or people disregard. Maybe that's a whole other thing, then. You know what? Tits, lulz.Moving on.

A couple ughs

UGH #1 You know when you're overweight, and somehow your subconscience keeps constructing a universe around you that disallows change, or lets you be OK with your unhealthy self because it want's to keep you safe, seeing how change is dangerous, and happiness is key in connection with that? Take for example, starting to run again, then not being able to because of an ankle injury, which could heal if you didn't work on it 8-12 hours a day? Yeah, me either.

UGH #2 Hipsters. That use to be just a way to describe someone, but now its an entire thing. You know? Like, being mainstream is so lame. You know what else is mainstream? Breathing. So stop it, so us conformists can have it all to ourselves. Speaking of which, some months ago, I was at this music festival, and whilst in line for entrance, I overheard

"Yeah, but to truly be a hipster, you can't BE a hipster." In this retarded, foux upper class sort of snide accent. This was one of the very rare cases of me coming close to using violence against someone for not doing anything to me. *Glare sans ensuing strangulation*

Anyways, I'm not so good with goodbyes.

~Xavier R.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

What's wrong with some color in your family tree...9-25-11

It's a fuck up world. Or, perhaps, the world isn't fucked up. Maybe we need to judge our levels of our social gauging. Calm down, everyone. All we want is peace and love, blah blah blah.

My Step Dad's girlfriend makes delicious biscuits. Not slang for vagina, I mean really. Delicious biscuits.

But yeah, the daily thing;

Do you see trees? I see them, too. Anyways, enjoy.

~Xavier R.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Is it solipsism in here, or is it just me...Playlist 9-24-11

Firstly, when your diet consists of Thai food and alcohol, wavering from such causes problems. Or solutions. Not really sure anymore. It puts the lotion on the skin or else it gets masturbatory musing from the upper echelons of the nobodies again.

Secondly, Bike Mike as inspired/convinced/cattle prodded  me into starting one of my horror stories that I've had swimming around in that depraved genius lump of goo of mine known as a brain. I may or may not put up snippets or entire chapters. We'll see how I feel.

Lastly, I've come to learn (already know) that orgasms aren't that great unless they're on someone else's face. Fact.

Behold, your playlist;

Best heard when loud, whilst naked, and with friends.

~Xavier R.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Why you should consider me for upper management.

"You sure? Are you absolutely sure?" said my rival Steven, looking really really stupid in a full hazmat suit.

"Yes!" I declare.

"You're sure your fridge is demonically possessed... because of the light?" He says with that incredulous tone he knows I hate so much.

"Yes, goddamnit! Yes!" I exclaim. "The light stays on until I open it! If that's not demonic in nature I do not know what is!"

"You sure? Like positive?" having taken off the top half of his hazard suit revealing the reverend collar he was straightening on the shirt underneath it. "You know if this shit is alien, You're gonna just have to admit you don't have any real crazy devil shit go on here. We'll have to revoke your membership to the Guild of Darkness. Put you back with those trekkies down on fifth."

"Fuck you and go check my fucking fridge" I snapped, losing my composure only temporarily.

"Okay! Okay man!" I could tell he didn't trust me. He had his reverend shirt and collar, his holy water and his cross shaped axe, sure, but he had also had his hazardous materials jumpsuit on. Tied at the waist. "But lemme warn ya, I've danced with many a haunted fridge, and this shit just aint haunted." He sneered, "It's fuckin' aliens"

He swung open the fridge door after giving his a-rhythmic knock signature onto the fridge door. It's how all full fledged Darkness Guilders access the otherworld. I've been in training for the guild of darkness for 9 months. Anyone who has any potential to be in the guild have to take an entrance exam, those who dont are in the fifth floor "Paranormal Activities Research Dept", those who fail the test gets sent back there indefinitely.

Forever known as a "Repard" or just simply "Trekkies," as Steven likes to put it.

"Just check the fridge, alright?" I was losing patience.

Steven opened the door and much to my vindication a furry rancid smelling beast whos face occupied the entire length and breadth of the fridge opening. It had huge sharp teeth and what seemed to be thousands of eyes, none of them fishlike.

A demon for sure!

"Now to the untrained eye" explained Steven, obviously sweating "This MAY SEEM Demonic in nature..."

"Just fucking call it asshole, it's got demonic written all over it" I snapped letting my victory wash over me.

"It's a goddamn hologram, you little pissant. I'll prove it!" Snapping his arm into the fridge.

The creatures teeth all turned into the blades of serrated K-bar knives, most of them now all but severing Steven's forearm from his elbow.

"Okay, I believe you. Now get me out of here... please"

"Not until you sign me over your corner office and reserved parking to me"

"Bastard! You drive a hard bargain!" He laughed heartily from his gut as he signed my shrewdly printed out terms.

Not only had I commanded a situation in a way that would benefit myself and career, but I had also commanded the respect from a more experienced Co-Worker.

Please evaluate my service to this great Guild in your selecting for Co-Chair of Darkness.

For Your Consideration,

Big Mike.


Prepare to be brutalized

Thank you Satan for Bandcamp

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Shitting in Mitsubishis

In 2024, scientists developed a collar like device feeding off the brainwaves of mammals and translates the signals phonetically into words and phrases

In 2033, the first commercial passenger aircraft piloted by a chimpanzee made a safe landing.

In 2045, there are no flying cars, but a population of millions of chimpanzees now hold jobs, read at a college reading level and have the right to buy alcohol and cigarettes.

"Look! I'm a fucking seal! ARF! ARF! ARF!" Screamed my roommate Reggie, atop our neighbors highly modified '35 Mitsubishi Skyline. Don't get me wrong, I hated this stupid car too: It had a ridiculously huge spoiler, it's tires were too damn big, it had tinted windows, it had spinning rims and this stupid paint job that would change colors depending on what angle you were looking at it. But still, Reggie was over reacting.

Besides, he didn't look like a seal, he looked like a pissed off chimp with a fire axe.

"Wait! Reggie! Don't do it!" I screamed to no avail. He was already in the middle of a swing.

"You..." He cut a neat 6 inch gash into the roof "Should've..." another blow to roof "Bought..." destroying the vents at the rear windshield "American..." a side mirror, gone "You..." A gash in the passenger door "Zitty..." the passenger window "Faced..." the windshield, shattering into a million little pieces. "COCKSMOKER!" screamed my roommate as he laughed maniacally and crawled right through the hole he made in the front of the car.

I went back inside the apartment, I didn't want to witness what happened next, not the ugly confrontation Reggie had with the zitty neighbor kid nor the fist fight which followed. Not even the the chimpanzee sized shit he would leave on the driver's seat.

Reggie came into the house with a cigarette between his lips. He was bruised up but he was grinning triumphantly as he laid a roll of twenties on the table. "I fleeced him for everything he had"

I gave Reggie that look I always give when he feels invincible. Beating the shit out of a human could slide, property damage would get him put down for sure.

"I wouldn't worry about it" Reggie pulled out a magazine from the back of his pants, a copy of human pride. "He's a Human Supremacist, he'd never admit to having his ass beat by a monkey. I mean, you read this shit? 'Monkies stealing human jobs'? 'Monkies suck off welfare teat'? 'Southern belle gang raped by monkies'? You would think that humans didn't have the largest outwards genitalia in the ape family."

"You never know, That southern belle might've only be being 'raped' because her daddy found out"

"Man, that's really tasteless" laughed Reggie, "This coming from the chimp who shits in Mitsubishis"

Fuck Mitsubishi,
Big Mike.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

I like my women like I like my coffee...

Ground up and put in the freezer.

Ah! Ah! Aaah!

You're fucking swine, seriously.

Big Mike.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

ლ(ಠ益ಠლ) Y U NO STAY DEAD?

To reiterate on a point Big Mike made some time ago;

All your friend's are dead. Not literally (well, not completely). But they hardly matter anymore. But some come around.

"Ol' buddy, there you are!"

No, no. Smile. Wave, call it good. Some situations are good. Some, barely bearable. Most, bad. Most, go away. Most, you weren't interested then, don't be interested now.

Perhaps the cynicism will go away. Perhaps these words will be rued. They aren't right now, though. Right now I mean them.

Cept. That one chick I had a crush on in the 6th grade. We do sex, cool? Don't worry, I have condoms. I'm a big boy now. All growed up.

~Xavier R.

Friday, September 16, 2011

The Darkness

The walls of the compound kept vibrating, and this caused anxiety among the researchers and their sporadic family members. They had no idea how to stop it, or what it was, but all had the same sneaking suspicion, of what it was. Eerily creeping past and through them, a darkness was abound.

"What?" Roy Roe was awake. He looked left and right, his wife by his side, but still asleep. Well, not asleep anymore.

"I didn't say anything, sweets." She half grumbled and half yawned. "Now go back to bed."

This would not do for Roy Roe. He knew he heard something. So half naked, half asleep, and fully intrigued, he tossed his half of the blankets on top Mrs. Roe, and slid from bed. He waved his hand passed the scanner on his door, and the door then proceeded to near instantly dissipate, leaving a wide opening for him to walk through. One he did, it then became a solid door once more. He could slightly hear his wife groan towards him as he made his way down the corridor.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu..." Roy Roe heard the shout, which before it could finish what he figured would have become a very pronounced "fuck", he heard what he imagined was the exploding of meat. Or, well, a person. The steel walls, with no windows and the occasional door made him nervous, because the sound could have come from anywhere. He decided to run back to his room, to check on his wife.

When he arrived, he found blood covering the floor and sink in the kitchen, the living area, and the bed. All that remained were bits of bone, entails, and hair. He fell to his knees, with tears in his eyes.

"My beautiful wife." The lights in his room then brightened. This signaled daylight. The screaming had stopped. The clattering of a busy research station could be heard from outside his door.

"Wake him! Wake him now!" A familiar voice. What was this about? It was coming from nowhere!

"Wake him god damn it! The dosage was too high!" He shook and trembled, cracks in his skin opening, and glowing.

"Wake him..." and then darkness. Nothing. He woke, to find himself standing over half a dozen dead, mutilated bodies with white jackets. Behind him, a patient's table with the limb straps tore off. The walls. The ceiling. The equipment. All there, but all wavering information. Numbers. Numbers to be tampered with. A hole opened in front of him, in a wall he decided was there. He stepped through, to find himself in his living quarters. His wife was as he dreamed she was. Bits of bones, entails and hair.

He fell to his knees.

~Xavier R.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Where's the Armadillo?

"You'll never get away with this, you meat fascist" said the anemic PETA activist to Walter, the Zoo security guard, a man by no means deficient in protein.

Walter, a kind looking man with a mustache, smiled sympathetically as he tightened the burlap feed bag that bound the hippy to the support beam at the center of the boiler room. "You kids, you keep letting all the animals out of the zoo, you know this puts us all in a predicament"

"Wild animals are supposed to run free!" spat the skinny dreaded man.

"I understand, really I do" sighed Walter "But lions aren't supposed to run free in the zoo downtown"

The pasty face was indignant but couldn't argue with logic like that, especially not with a brain fed on tofu. "so what are you gonna do? Keep me locked up in this boiler room?"

"Well, I can't really let you off with a slap on the wrist like when you let out the petting zoo goat last week. You're gonna have to cough up the Armadillo you stole a month back"


"Where's the armadillo?" Walter asked politely

"No!" Screamed the PETA activist.

"Where's the fucking armadillo!?" Walter, now beet red, screeched into the mans ear. His gun stuck firmly under the hippy's zitty, bearded chin.

"I'll never give him up! Never!"

"Fine, have it your way" sighed Walter, calm again.

"Call the cops! I don't care, I'll go to prison, no problem! I'll do anything for the animals!" The PETA activist rattled on, as if he had something rehearsed, but in the heat of the moment only gave the jist of it.

"Cops? Oh, no." Walter smiled. He scratched his chin and gave a thoughtful look. "But you'll do anything for the animals, right?"

The hippy nodded, eager to have his iron resolve tested. "Yes."

Walter looked towards the door the hippy didn't even realize was open. "You hear that, Rex?"

A deep, throaty but distinctly feline growl came from just out of the hippy's line of vision. "Mmm hmm".

A 500 pound behemoth of a lion pranced into the room and nodded a friendly greeting to Walter. "Hey Walt" said Rex the lion and then gave the hippy a very toothy smile.

"He's a little on the light side, but I'll tell ya what Rex, I'll throw in that fuckin' goat for your troubles"

"Ah, ever the gentleman, our friend Walter" growled the lion.

Walt knelt down next to the big cat, not yet in kill mode, and ruffled his mane "I've even wrapped him up in Burlap, don't want to be environmentally unfriendly, now do we?"

"A gentleman and a scholar" Smiled Rex.

Big Mike.

Friday, September 9, 2011

The Price of Self Improvement

"You see, these drugs" I muscle a red and white pill down my throat, "these drugs, they make shit very cut and dry"

The giant teddy bear behind the desk in front of me nods his giant teddy head behind his loosely clasped teddy paws, just like a psychiatrist.

The woman with the TV screen face looks a lot less calm. She's to my left, occupying the chair on the opposite side of the teddy bears desk. Her heads an old TV monitor, her body underneath a clean white cat suit. She gives off no body language, not just because she's tied to the chair, no, she's not moving at all. The only way you could tell if she's even awake is a still picture of a woman's face on the screen, never moving.
Just staring at the barrel at the end of my gun.

"Take this person, for instance." I pull back the hammer and point at one of the vacuum tubes at the back of her head. "I've been thinking about her lately, she never calls or talks to me anymore, these days. When was the last time I talked to her?"

"Months ago, definitely" said the bear from behind his hands.

"Well, I sit by the phone, same time everyday and call her, to no answer!" I begin to choke up.

The bears face, even though just buttons and thread, gives me a sympathetic look.

"Finally, I just give up! then she calls me! She says, get this, 'why arent you next to the phone, waiting for me?!' she's all pissed off! Not even the slightest sense of irony here!" I cough and look out the window: its a framed picture of a loud parade just below us, it's the walrus parade. "I mean, she calls me right in the middle of the walrus parade. Not that I give a fuck about the walrus parade. Thats just it."

The Teddy bear raises his eyebrow.

"I thought I used to be in love with this woman. What the fuck was my problem? She's not even here, she's just one of my projections!" I opine "She does exist, but not to me, you see? Why should I devote any head space to a dead letter of a relationship?"

The Teddy nods and smiles. "Cut and dry"

The woman with the TV for a head has turned off, there is nothing on the screen, not even static. I holster my gun and the Teddy Bear and I grab her. We then throw her out of the window onto the walrus parade now many stories below us. She turns into confetti and the walruses can be heard barking heartily even from this high up.

Big Mike.

Monday, September 5, 2011

It's been awhile...Playlist 9-5-11

Beers, bitches (lack of) and work. Lots of work. Depression. All sorts of it. I bought a plane ticket to Alaska. It's cold there I hear. Who knows. I know who knows. Everyone.

I've been reading my physics book again. Also, I think my fungal infection on muh belly is gone. You didn't NEED to know that, but I told you. I haven't had sex in like...a month or two. Man, who do you think you are?

Some particularly killer tunes

Sorry it's been so long. But you know, all that chronic "patheticism."

Turn off the lights. Let fuck.

~Xavier R.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Cheap champagne and even cheaper j j junk food...Playlist 8-28-11

When was the last time your gentiles intermingled with the gentiles of another?

Lets lose our virginity ALLLLLLL over again, baby. Yeah. Calm down. Love you lots, not really.

Hey, I started on a new book again. Again.

~Xavier R.

Friday, August 26, 2011

I am too nice

I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice I am too nice

I work to construct, to help, to spread peace. Yet the social flaws are with me? I am inferior? I become angry, act more on impulse, then end up getting what I want. This is the world?

That is not acceptable.

I get older, others get older, then come to rely on me, when past reckless recreation is complete. This is the world?

That is not acceptable.

I find dark concepts humors, but actual actions despicable. (I.E. A monster that eats naughty children (me) = funny. A sicko who butchers innocent children at summer camp, non fictional = disgusting) Yet I am called hypocrite. Excuse me for not thinking a murder deserves accolades when others think they deserved it for not having proper security. Really? This is the world?

*continue repeat end of paragraph for poetic effect

And women? Don't even get me started...

This is not acceptable.

But I cannot change. I am who I am. Yet it is not fair, so I cannot forgive. I am nice, yet filled with so much hatred.  Onto headlines. Want some insight? Want more reasons to keep coming back?

- Drive-by shooting

- Public Science on a downfall

-Towel heads killing each other. Don't feel offended. They aren't real people.

-White people with their "subtle" "influence" in "media", doing everything "right."

-Save poor "Africa" (the singular "nation")

- Freeze berries for "enjoyment" in fall.

-Overuse of """"

I am not better for this.

~Xavier R.

p.s. I don't need sleep.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Kill The Sound

"Every I watch television, I want to put a slug right into my brain." Malcolm exclaimed hysterically as he passed the bottle of vodka over to Kel.

"Why? Suicide isn't always the answer, you know." Kel then took a swig of the booze, winced and waited, then swigged again. Malcolm then gratefully took the bottle back.

"Not a bullet. I mean an actual slug. You know, one of those brain control ones. A malicious one." He stood still, looking at the bottle, then hit it, hit it again, and then dropped an empty container in the grass, and kicked it to the side.

"Then maybe I'd get the guts to, you know, go on a killing spree." He started to wobble a bit. He received a stiff punch to the nose, which sent him into the ground.

"Ah what the fucking shit man? Why did you...why..." Malcolm flew to his feet, only to bend over and vomit until he fell back over. Kel began kicking him in the ribs until he vomited again, this time blood accompanying. Kel then pulled out his .45 glock and pointed it down at Malcolm.

"Wh...why? Why Kel? Why?" Kel then pulled the trigger, bent over, and stuck his finger in the freshly made hole. After a brief moment, he began laughing manically.

Mentos, The Fresh Maker

~Xavier R.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

A pile of naked Jews? Sign me up...Playlist 8-20-11

I get out of my shell for just a minute, and discover Amy Winehouse is dead, theres rioting everywhere, and another asshole has butchered his wife and kids.

Touche', world. Touche'.

Anyways, music.

~Xavier R.

Friday, August 19, 2011

What's your story?

Not sure how I came across this, but here is something from the far east. The music isn't HORRIBLE, but if you can't stand it, just watch it on mute.

Take note, that I pray for an orgy with all those women. Or that woman. It's hard for me to tell if they're all different.

No, not because they're Asian, but because they're/it is female. Chicks all look the same to me. Especially when they're all skinny and Asian. They're. What a splendid word of words.


Perhaps you have wondered what drunken shenanigans look like, after beers, bar cocktails, and more beer, involving me and a friend look like. And by shenanigans I mean poetry reading. Here you are. Don't say I didn't warn you...because I didn't.

That is all. For now. Oh yeah. You can follow me on twitter now, @XavierRhone. Cool, right? Wrong. I've been eating and drinking too much lately. It shows. It always shows.

~Xavier R.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

It's cool, I know someone who works here...Playlist 8-17-11

I was on the verge of understanding what should be done, in general. However, the thought process fell through. Almost though. Almost.

~Xavier R.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Where and were...don't shoot the messenger

Just had to throw a little something in there.

So I'm totally destroying this fucking website. Me drinking isn't helping, I'm sure. Why can't anyone else post more often? So within ourselves. More like, me with in myself. This is bad, real bad.

I need to find a news source in which to speculate and site on a regular basis, because I seriously have no idea what's going on anywhere. I wake up, eat food, play bass, read or play video games, go to work, come home, drink, eat, blog and net it up, then sleep. The outside world hardly exists anymore. Rarely I'll run into no one and do nothing. Beyond that, jackity shit, niggas. Jackity shit. Post in the comments. What should I/we do to improve our connectivity with you plebs?  Take no offence to that, my dear inferiors. Wooooaaaah, whoops.

So yeah all this being said, this Don Rafael smoke is delicious.

~Xavier R.

Not a fan of the ol' Satan, I see...Playlist 8-15-11

The previous post has had pretty much the least views, and likes out of every post. Get a grip, people. I needn't say that I posted it whilst drunk, stoned, or in a mental breakdown, because none would be true. Get over yourselves, you fucking losers. Especially you, Malaysia. Serious, go eat your flesh crackers and blood wine and go fuck yourselves.

So yeah, now I'm enjoying a cocktail, soon a cigar will be added, and I'm pleased with the fact that blah di di doo bah boo boo hahaha woooo. Yeah.

~Xavier R.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Almost sounds reasonable

Big Bold Print, Just for you

1. Satan represents indulgence instead of abstinence!
2. Satan represents vital existence instead of spiritual pipe dreams!
3. Satan represents undefiled wisdom instead of hypocritical self-deceit!
4. Satan represents kindness to those who deserve it instead of love wasted on ingrates!
5. Satan represents vengeance instead of turning the other cheek!
6. Satan represents responsibility to the responsible instead of concern for psychic vampires!
7. Satan represents man as just another animal, sometimes better, more often worse than those that walk on all-fours, who, because of his “divine spiritual and intellectual development,” has become the most vicious animal of all!
8. Satan represents all of the so-called sins, as they all lead to physical, mental, or emotional gratification!

9. Satan has been the best friend the Church has ever had, as He has kept it in business all these years!

~Xavier R.

p.s. But it Makes you think both ways.

Let's make this simple

President Obama will be making a decision soon on a big, big matter. He's under a fair amount of pressure from some bullshit grassroots campaign funded by uh...some bad people. If he fails, let's just say the tar sand nightmare will come to fruition.

If you're unaware of the "Tar Sands" and their catastrophic effects, just hit up Google. Then make a ruckus, god damn it.

Here are some important links

Let's get off our asses and save the world right quick, then get back to the play lists, drunken ramblings, and unschooled intellectualism.

~Xavier R.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Fact: Thai people make good Thai food

If only they ran a sex shop out of their restaurant, my life would be complete. Should I really put all my need for exoticism into a particular group of people?

Well let me ask you this;

What's the chemical composition of cinnamaldehyde? Well?


~Xavier R.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Hey there

All of you are equally our inferiors, but I would like to give a special thank you to the Malaysians, the highest demographic of our visitors that aren't from a country filled with white people.

Thanks for being dumb enough to enjoy our site.

~Xavier R.


Saya melancap gambar anak kucing mati.

Thin blooded with thick flesh...Playlist 8-8-11

Still re-cooperating from pitting at a thrash metal concert two days ago. One would think that would give cause for making a thrash metal playlist. Well, one would be disastrously wrong. I shall put forth what comes to mind. Speaking of which, hail Satan!

I'm thinking it was a bad idea to put a twix bar in coffee. Also, I love drinking booze. Moderation, my children. Also, go running, robot voice, quote landmark alt. rock albums, eat cheese, commit suicide.

I haven't had Thai food in awhile now. Maybe I'll get some today, even after the fiasco of last time. Fiasco? More like canvas. Canvas? Stupid idiot internet and it's dumb thesaurus. Damn thing doesn't work. I blame the government and/or religion and/or science and/alcohol and/or drugs and/or Fannie Farmer.


~Xavier R.

Saturday, August 6, 2011


So Yeah, drinking bad. Very bad.

But sooooo good.

Slayer today! Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck yeah.

~Xavier R.

Friday, August 5, 2011

God Damn It

I had already written half a fucking blog entry, and by the majestic wonder of accidental typing, I some how got out of it and ruined a great deal of time worth of work. Should I reiterate all the typing I've already done? Nah. Hella nah, niggas. Fuck the lotta yalls. Pretty much, I said some things, and you'll agree wtih them because you're a bunch of dumb fuck that either don't care, or you're cool enough to get the fact that there are many flaws to deal with, primarily that of that stupid god damn blog that somehow is the lifeblood and bane of my meaningless, worthless existence.

We observe the demographics. We know that beyond our associates and "parents", people read what we do. People take in our words as if they have a worth beyond a cheap laugh or something of similar ilk. However, when a primary writer has had too many martinis and is upset that he still lives in this constantly shaking, dark world, we can't help but see that there is nothing we can do but cling to our false hopes, that may be real hopes.

Here are a few things I shall share because I'm drunk, and flat out frustrated with life and don't even care at this point anymore.

I am Xavier R. Some may know me personally, some may know from my former internet personas or from life itself. When I was a mid teenager, for a brief period time I thought I was gay, because of the over saturation of a particular life style in popular media. I am the exact opposite of gay, as it turns out. I am a woman loving sex addict who would sooner be late to work then lack a decent orgasm. Though my sex life has been lacking as of the past couple of years, if I didn't have good access to porn, then my nice guy persona would vanish, and I would fall back to fucking everything with a vagina that I came across.

I am sick. I am sick with the madness that haunts every breath that I take. I am the borderline sociopath that craves the constant attention of the pussy, imaginary or real. I am the artist that sucks in sugar. Wither with pain,  the sugar be actual sugar or the metaphor for a creative sorce. I am the fat piece of shit that eats too much when he is drunk. I am so lonely. I crave attention yet hate everyone too much to seek salvation.

I wish I lived closer to Big Mike. He'd spout some nonsense that would make me feel better about myself. He'd blah blah blah about blah blah blah and everything would be cool. That's not the case though. I don't mind. Better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all, right? Wrong? Who knows. Who cares. Who knows, even. But here we are, dealing with it. Here we are, living with it.

I love you, you fucking losers. I love you, more than I should.

~Xavier R.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Half my ex-girlfriends have had kids. So, that means I've had sex with several people's mothers. Ha...hahaha...Playlist 8-4-11

2 plates of spaghetti, 3 cocktails, and half a cigar later, I find myself in the midst of entertaining one's self with the lack of company. It's totally cool.

Phenylalanine.  Know what that is? I do. Not because I'm some sort of genius chemist. Just because I pay attention to the things I allow into my body. I'll tell you what, though. I don't think I'm going to let something with so many syllables into my body anymore.  Go ahead, google it. Then enjoy the fact that you've been letting this interesting chemical into your body for FUCKING YEARS.

The time has been passing rather quickly. It  is light out now, and here I am, still sitting on my fat ass, talking about shit that will be beyond the conscience mind of most that occupy the blogosphere.

I swear I never inhaled.

ignore the images, listen to the song

~Xavier R.

Even in his youth he was nothing

I sit here, sipping on some tokyo tea, chowing on some spaghetti, thinking to myself "Xavier R, you ol' dog, you are one cool soon of a bitch." And then on that thought I think to myself "Oh god it is so lonely here...all alone."

But no worries, soon I will share a quality with this young pigment deficient fellow;

I'll be drunk.

~Xavier R.

Monday, August 1, 2011

The outside Is dangerous

Why would you ever need to leave? The work, in which you can buy everything you need, is here. Everything in which you need, or WANT, to buy, is here. You do not even need to leave your home. You can have everything delivered. Hell, you can even work from home.

Want to talk to your friends? Make new friends? That's why you have your webcam, and video phone, silly. You are quite the social butterfly, aren't you? Conquering the world using such means. Clever, clever.

Dream of being a star? Well no worries! With World Star VI, the latest in poppy entertainment media, you can rule the world online, and everyone will know your name.  Hell, have all the sex you want. Holograms nowadays, well, you can feel and smell them, as good as the real thing!

You never need to leave. Besides, the outside is dangerous.

Welcome to The Acropolis 

~Xavier R.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

P P P Playlist 7-31-11

~Xavier R.

"Retort" is a word I use

A "discussion" I had with a disgruntled "fan" in an earlier post contained the word 'Retort' with myself not being the one using it, I just realized. That is not cool. I am not pleased.

~Xavier R.


Saturday, July 30, 2011

Jesus Christ and Nietzsche have a fist fight (While Mohammed Bookies)

If I had to describe the afterlife, I'd have to say it's a lot like Arizona.

There's really nothing here, just a saloon. That's it, really. A rat-hole fucking bar in the middle of this nuclear hell-hole of a desert. I've never been far outside of it. The desert scares me, and as much as I hate that bar, I'd never been far enough to not be within earshot of the place. I spend my days either out front or in my room above the noisy commotion of tavern.

Tonight was fist fight Wednesday, and to be honest I've never been much of a fan (most nights devolve into a fistfight anyway) but tonight it's going to be Nietzsche and good o'l JC. Apparently, they've fought thousands of times, just not while I was here. I wanted to see the show. Mo had been taking bets all week.

"Jesus wins most of the time, he's got an unfair advantage if you ask me" said the tall man sitting next to me, his hair long and golden, his voice slurring with alcohol and a thick Norse accent. I looked at him raising my eyebrow and my drink to my lips. "He's got those holes in his hands, y'see: less wind resistance." I nodded knowingly.

"And he likes to bitch slap when he fights" says the man with four arms next to Norse man, "He really doesnt fight so well, but like thor said" making a clicking noise with his mouth and pointing at him, as if he forgot what he was going to say. Shiva had two drinks in his lower arms.

"Wind resistance" Thor said, in between drinks.

"Yeah! Thats it" Shiva said, a thick middle asian accent coming through. "Hey Buddha, What do you think?"

The fat bald man in a tunic behind the bar stopped polishing a glass and just closed his eyes, smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"God fucking damnit, Buddha" Thor screamed as he lay his hammer hard against the bar, The bar simultaniously shattered and stayed in intact, seeming now to be outside of reality itself. Like Schrodinger's cat, it existed and didnt exist at the same time.

To be honest the first time I saw it, it was pretty impressive. But being stranded in a bar alone with gods will make anyone jaded after awhile.

"Why do you never commit one way or the other, Buddha? Its fucking annoying" Shiva's accent now a roaring Indian stereotype. Buddha didn't say anything, so Shiva set the bar on fire, not with magic mind you, just with a bottle of Gin and a zippo.

Buddha was getting red in the face, they could tell they were getting to him. "Do something! Do something you fat fuck!" screamed Thor, his face wide with a grin.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! GET OFF MY BAR!" I'd seen Buddha flip out, just never this badly before. "GANESHA! DO SOMETHING!" Wailed the Buddha. We all looked over at the elephant headed man on the other side of the bar, silently washing dishes. He looked at Buddha and huffed at him, grabbing a bottle and then walking out back as not to be bothered again. Buddha exhaled sharply and just looked at Thor and Shiva.

"Fuck it" spoke Buddha "I don't fucking care about the bar."

Before Shiva and Thor could plan their next offense on Buddha's usually steely resolve, Mohammed had rung the bell, notifying us that the fight was about to start. "Final bets, ladies and gentlemen" said mohammed in a gentle middle-eastern accent. Thor and Shiva moved to the crowd surrounding the ring. I stayed at the bar, just turning on my stool.

"Theres no women here, asshole!" shouted Quetzalcoatl, his head dressing shaking wildly above the forray. Even in a crowded room, you always knew where he was.

"Whatever, you prick" quipped Mohammed "You people want to see a fight or what?"

The men roar in agreement.

"Pan! Hit it!" Shouted Mo to the half goat, half man on the battered upright piano. He began pounding furiously on the keys, unleashing a ragtime, laurel and hardy-esque fight song.

Nietzsche started strongly with an upper cut, straight to Jesus' chin. and then Jesus Christ slapped Nietzsche across the face so hard it looked like his mustache was going to fall off. Nietzsche stumbled back, shook his head, lunged and headbutted jesus.

They both folded over unconscious and then that was it.

The fight was over.

I turned back around so fast I almost fell off my bar stool. "Buddha, you gotta be fucking kidding me! Was that it?"

Buddha, still polishing that same glass, looks over my shoulder and then goes "Yep, it certainly looks that way"

"Why? what's the point?" I plead.

"Look, kid, do I look like I have the answers?" I was looking at something that was made out of gold and was shaped like buddha. That talked.


"Okay, okay, kid, why don't you ask them?"

Before I could turn around to see who Buddha was talking about, Nietzsche and Jesus sat on either side of me, they didn't even look like they were just engaged in a brutal fight. Nietzsche was impeccably trimmed and suited in black and jesus, well jesus was just dressed like jesus.

"Vat are we drinking Jesus?" Asked Neitzche to whom I had presumed all my life was his arch nemesis.

"Whatever man, but you're totally buying, dude!" Said Jesus, all smiles.

"You cheap bastard" They both laughed heartily at a private joke I was sure to never fully understand.

"Nietzche, Jesus, what's the point of this? All this I mean?"

"Oh boy, you had to get all heavy on us kid, didn't you?" Said Jesus, never ever breaking his cheerful tone.

"I've been dead for months and is this all there is?" I plead, "Really? is this it?"

"Vat does eet matter vat we have to say about aneething?" Said Nietzsche. "Your een a room full of gods or equeevilants to gods and you're steel not happy?"


"Well dude," said Jesus, putting his hand on my back, "You just gotta make your own meaning, man"

I looked over to the corner to see René Dascrtes covering his eyes with his hands. Zeus was screaming at him from the other corner that he could still hear us.

Suddenly it clicked.

All the gods came to say goodbye when I left. They gave me some food and a tent and told me I was always welcome back to the saloon if I ever felt like coming back, and even though, as I look at the desert (which still scares the shit out of me) I had a feeling I wouldn't ever be back. It felt good.

I'm still walking towards the setting sun as we speak.

Big Mike.