Immigrants are Assholes

Yes. They are. When I refer to immigrants, I am eluding to all Americans of a European descent. I am one of them so I know the deal. We all know the story. Also; Italians and the Irish are the worst. Here is my reasoning as told by Giuseppe and then his friend, Patrick.

Giuseppe: Yeah so my family had it rough. I mean my great great great great great Grandfather came over here in like who knows and basically was dirt poor. I mean we have the family bible that he brought with him from the old country. We don't know why he left but we know that he and his three little brothers came over together. They were real poor, ya know? So they had to swim over! It was brutal but my Grandfather, he was resourceful. I guess that's where I get it from. He decided that one of the little brothers would be better off dead so they stabbed him with an iceberg and used his corpse as a raft. Of course they needed food so he and my great great great great great Uncle ate the other brother. Apparently it was a good meal but they were angry because there was no bread or 'gravy.' So when they got to Brooklyn they got jobs building stuff. They only had three cents in their pocket when they got here! (They collectively, only had one pocket.) So then after years and years they built themselves up and now look at us! My dad owns the biggest picture of the Pope in the free world! Eh its funny how life goes, ya know?

Patrick: Well after my family was crucified by the English and then thrown into a burning lake of oil, they decided they had enough. So my great x7 Grandmother decided to send her 24 children to the new world. But they had no money so they had to volunteer to act as furniture on a British ship that was coming to America to drop off all the bodies of the Irish orphans they had killed on St. George's day. The famine had killed the other 68 siblings and the cat. The dog was shot by the British for treason and buried under a statue of a British soldier chopping a baby's head off with a shamrock. So they finally got to Boston and got jobs as cops and priests. Sometimes the priests would be arrested by the cops, for shooting other priests, and the cops would arrest other cops for shooting other cops and then the priests would be there for Last Rites at the executions. They made themselves into the amazing family they are today and in fact there is a rehab center in Southie named after us! Too bad everything absolutely sucks and I hate my life regardless of what is happening. Ah that's why I need to drink.

The problem with most family stories, is that if you actually count the number of, 'greats' in front of the Grandmothers and Grandfathers in the stories, the families in questionwould have left their home countries when the United States would not have been discovered yet. Shit, it'd still be part of Pangaea, if you took the time to do the generational math. No one came here with more than three cents. Yet somehow everyone has a family bible and a crest and a motto and the mummy of their great Aunt Trudy up in the attic. Everyone seemed to come here and get involved in careers which had something to do with the building of something we can all easily recognize. If every Italian who says, A. they're family had people working on the Brooklyn Bridge actually did; it would have taken three hours to build as there would have been 9 billion workers, B. had family who were, 'connected' then the mafia would have been so strong that if wouldn't have taken this long to get an Italian elected president... oh wait. If every Irishman who says they're family had people who were oppressed by the English actually had family that were oppressed by the English, then the population of Ireland would have dropped to 0 by 1680. Every Irishman seems to have had family that were effected by the potato famine. My own family survived it and came over later. Know why? Because they ate fish. "Well, Johnnyboy, not every Irish person lived near the coast ya know." Clam up pal, the country is the size of Indiana, just take the week it would take and walk to the coast. It is a special pet peeve of mine when Italians decide to be super Italian during oh... the World Cup and when they watch the, Jersey Shore. All of the Italian words they know are shitty pronunciations of swear words and words having to do with food. We get it, you drown everything in tomato sauce. Get over your damn food. It is not the end all be all of cuisine. When the Italian chef is up at 8 am preparing the dishes for the day, the French chef has been up since 4 reducing. No, I will not call it, "moozarell" or "gabbagool." It's mozzarella and cappicola and it always will be because we live in America you pretentious greaseball. The Irish... ha. Everything is misery with the Irish. No; drinking copious amounts of alcohol doesn't make you Irish, it makes you an alcoholic. Guess what, Paddy, your magic whiskey does the same exact thing as rum or any other spirit. I also love how the Irish claim to be so socially liberal and accepting of other races and creeds yet you can count the African Americans in a sold out Fenway Park crowd on one hand. The Irish love their Catholicism. They love it. It defines them. Yet almost like clockwork, they continually vote in politicians who are pro-choice. I guess they were asleep that day in religion class.. (or drunk.)

In the end we are all a bunch of jerks. I am Irish as I stated before so I can get away with saying what I did about the Irish. I am not Italian. But ... I really don't care if I offended any Italians because one of my bestest buddies in the whole wide worldy and co-writer of this blog is Italian and he agrees: We are all douchebags.

It Happens

My Grandmother died today.

It happens. It happened to me today.

Nothing more need be said. Grab a family member or a friend. A loved one. Hell... grab a complete stranger. Embrace them. Life is too short.

Sorry I can't be funny about this. Just don't feel like being a clown tonight.

Eugenia Melnikov. God hold her.

Hold us all.

-John

The Decline of Western Civilization Part One Million

No, I’m not going to insult the Jersey Shore. I watch the Jersey Shore. I like the Jersey Shore. I’ve made many foolish mistakes in my past, but this show broadcasts public displays of stupidity out to the public and it actually makes me feel better about myself. One of the foolish mistakes on the show is right on cast member Deena’s face. No, it’s not a herpe, although it may be a bedazzled herpe nonetheless. Yes, it’s that weird piercing the ladies of this era have, where a natural beauty mark would be. 

Cindy Crawford reluctantly has kept her trademark beauty mark, but weird fans have made her want to get rid of it, while Enrique Iglesias wisely removed what looked like a squashed bug from his cheekbone. The point is people don’t want/need shit on their face. Yet girls that don’t have a beauty mark pierce one on their face. I’ve seen and heard of piercing the ears, nose, breast, tongue, even clit, but face? I was at a college recruitment event and as the presenter speaking she turned to the side, the light hit her face at a certain angle and I noticed this same piercing. A professional recruiter?!? Her presentation still had about 15 minutes to go, but now the only presentation going on was in my mind, imagining how good and raunchy at sex she must be.

Fellas, ever been with a girl with a piercing in a “non-traditional” area? Three thoughts come to mind.

1. The sex is going to be great 
2. I’m definitely not bringing her home to the parents
3. I better use protection

It tends to play out this way every time too.

Once the back tattoo was officially classified as the “tramp stamp,” it became cliché for whorish girls to have. What better way to announce your sexuality rather than a weird piercing that makes absolutely no sense? I sought answers, so I went to a local Black Bear Saloon (a shitty bar/restaurant chain) to investigate. Within 16 seconds of being in that sweat hole, a shot girl approached me asking me if I’d like a gelatin drink that tastes shit, but thinks I should purchase because she’s been told she’s attractive her entire life. Now, stupidity, but ultimately guilt makes men purchase these drinks. If we don’t buy, the pretty girl might make a frowny face. This particular girl had a frowny disposition given her lot in life, so naturally she happened to have the face piercing. I asked her why she had it. She replied, “Five dollars.” I asked again, this time pointing to my face where her piercing was. She wiped her face, thinking something was on it (other than body glitter, tanning lotion and that cunty piercing) and replied, “Five dollars.” I’d bet hookers have better bedside manners, so I turned around bought my own shot at the bar and tried to black out what had just happened.   

Girls, we'll never notice nor give two shits about piercings. I never been erect due to noticing a piercing, but if you're going to pierce, stick to the ears or places we can't notice right off the bat. In terms of Deena's (or Black Bear shot girls') piercing, I'd adhere to Christian Bale's line in American Psycho, “Not in the face! Not the fucking face!!” 

Fuck It: A 2011 Bucket List

Everyone wants to get rich, go skydiving or share an intimate last moment with a significant other before they die. My goals are a little different than most, so with that said, here is my own bucket list of things I want to do before I die.

• Walk into a hot girl’s house and start playing the beginning to Van Halen’s Right Now. After finding out that the girl has no frame of reference because she is hot and thus unimpressed with my piano playing, I flip the piano over and set it ablaze.
• Recant a story to my children about running over a bunch gang bangers that attempted to mug me with my car. When my pussy son asks if any of them died, I reply, “Don’t know. Never turned back to look.” Then I put a cigarette out on my tongue.
• Break an iPad in half over my knee like a baseball bat.
• Give someone a VCR as a Christmas present.
• Pull off my father’s mustache and yell, “A-ha!!” He later tells me I’m adopted and disowns me.
• Jump into a public swimming pool with a knife between teeth.
• Take a girl out to a smoky jazz club, whisper something to the doorman that gets a chuckle out of him and gets us in for free. When the girl asks what I said, I look at her like she’s crazy.
• Fend off a large Samoan with a tiki torch.
• Get rich and famous enough to tell my current Facebook friends to go fuck themselves.
• When a girl refuses to kiss me due to a scruffy 5 o’clock shadow, I pull out a bowie knife and shave in front of her. We make love for several hours afterwards.  

In the end, I'm probably just going to take a last breath, crap my pants and be buried in my suit that I wore for my Confirmation when I was 15, so I might as well enjoy life before my body says, "fuck it."

-JF

Books That Should be Written Vol. 3

Hey people. How are you? I don't care. Last night I posted something quite serious about, 9/11. To offset the somber note I left this blog on, I shall honor you with more books that I think should be written. Read, become inspired, and then don't bother me.

1. SHIT!
Shit follows the story of the darkest day in this blogger's life. The day I was coming home from breakfast and shit my pants instead of the innocent fart which I had anticipated. A story of pain, it is only a few pages long and ends with me getting my front seat steam cleaned.

2. Winds of Time
An ancient mariner, Morty, returns to his mystical land to find that nothing is as it seems. His wife is nowhere to be found, his children are missing and the council of elders' chamber is empty. After a pretty slow moving three days, Morty the mariner stumbles upon some bullshit dog and pony show about the end of the world and realizes his kids and all the rest of 'em have taken off on a long hike to find a gold fleece or something. Morty gets tanked and takes a nap.

3. De-fence
A scrappy, rough-and-tumble football team made up of inner city youths finds itself thrust into the limelight when their coach finds out he has, cancer, AIDS, Diabeetus and Crabs all at the same time. This inspires the little team of minorities to come together and play some serious Gatdamn football. They reach the national championship where to their horror, the coach finds out all of his diseases are gone. With nothing to play for they end up robbing the other teams.

4. Lets Get the Lead Out
A pencil company exec has to face reality after his pencils end up in the hands of stupid kids. He must come to grips with the fact that lead is much more than just a writing instrument, it is also a Zeppelin. He spends the rest of his days stalking Pete Townshend who to his bemusement, is almost enjoying the stalking until he realizes that Townshend was in, "The Who." He then shoots himself.

5. Just This Once, Phil
Badger Whackstick is a new father. He is terrified and wants to do a good job. He absolutely obsesses over his baby son. Nothing but the best for Badger's boy. The words, "Just This Once, Phil" will however, forever haunt Badger after a night of drinking where his overweight, dipshit of a friend Phil swears that he can juggle a rabid possum and a baby at the same time.

Were you there? 9/11 Tribute

As a Christian, I have heard the hymn, "Were You There" many times. It is usually sung during the Veneration of the Cross on Good Friday service in my Parish. I am sure, many of you have heard it. It is haunting and solemn. The way it should be. Recently, however, I have listened to the lyrics and paid closer attention. So, on this ten year anniversary of the most horrific attack on our American soil, I ask the Lord; were you there?

Were you there, when the planes were hijacked? When the innocent faces of the passengers turned from the dull gaze of a plane trip to the terrified stares of a confused people?

Were you there when the first tower was hit? Did you feel the anguish of the lives that ended too suddenly?

Were you there when the second tower was hit? Did you feel the anguish of yet another group of people who's lives ended before their time should have been up?

Were you there in Pennsylvania and Washington when the planes took more lives? Were you there when the United States of America was brought to its knees by the misguided hatred of those who swore to serve your mission on Earth? A mission that humans manufactured in order to serve a purpose born of hate.

Were you there when the towers collapsed and buried their sons and daughter under tons of debris?

Did you hear the prayers of those who jumped from such a great height?

Did you hear the prayers of the families left behind who begged you to let their wives, husbands, daughters, sons, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, friends, co-workers, live?

Were you there when the terrorists screamed your name in invocation of the murder of thousands?

Are you present in the tears of the families who will never see their loved ones again?

Were you there when we cried and begged you to make it stop?

Are you here now?

Does our pain still ring in your Spirit?

Do you feel us when we give up on you?

Do you try to bring us back to you?

Are you listening?

Do you know why I feel it is alright to be angry with you sometimes?

Because I know that you will always forgive me.

But...

Sometimes,

It causes me to tremble.

9/11

Roids For Jay!

The Lovely Bastards Podcast 2: Super Bowl Shuffling/Audio Fun

Better late than never...join The Bastards as we review the Super Bowl as special guest Peyton Manning drops by. Plus disturbing tales of our pal Drew along with some fun with real audio.

He’s White, He’s Loud, He’s Conservative…

No, I’m not talking about Rush Limbaugh either. I’m talking the lazy co-author of this blog.

Truth be told, I’m half white, fully loud and I respect a man that can say he’s right wing (and makes sense like a Dennis Miller for example). My problem with him is, while self-deprecating at times, he is proud. Being an only child, the gap of having human contact has been replaced with John’s ethnic pride.

Don’t get me wrong, if it were national, honest, too stupid to be wrong American pride, I’d be on board. If he drove a Chevy Silverado and brandished a 2x4 everywhere he went, he’d be an icon, like this dude…

 

As it stands he’s Irish. A lot of my best friends are Irish…and they piss me off. While, St. Patrick wasn’t even Irish, the “holiday” is an excuse to get drunk, have a parade and drive tourism. I have no problem with the Irish fabricating a holiday just to get more loaded than usual. Kiss me I’m Irish, ladies? No thanks, you probably have a swollen, clotted, gin blossom of a nose, a gut and some form of depression that will kill my buzz and libido. Oh and fellas, when you realize you better “cash in” on you (mis)forutune of being Irish and try to score with the ladies and inevitably strike out, you’ll try to start a fight and, of course, ruin everyone’s time around you, not unlike the Italians.

But back to John, nationalities aside (which we’ll get back to shortly), he really dislikes the decade in which he was conceived and born…the 1980s.

Keep in mind that he hated high school (started in the 90s) all the way to present. I’m pretty sure he’d hate the 70s and complain about disco…he’s essentially has the perpetual disposition of a male (or just) Penny Marshall. While I shout, shout, shout it out loud that the 80s where a decade of big hair and even bigger guilty pleasures, Johnnyboy screams, “Feh!”

When talking about the movies of the 80s, Johnboy says,

The Breakfast Club - I wanted every kid in that library to die. The Big Chill - I wanted everyone in that house to die. Rain Man - I wanted everyone in that casino to die. Top Gun - I wanted everyone in that plane to die, and got lucky by getting to watch one crap out. Back To The Future - I wanted everyone in 1955 to die. I don't think I need to go on.

He wants everyone to die. That’s for comedic shock value, right? Not quite, let it be known that ole Johnnyboy is actually half Russian and this pretty much falls in line with the country’s sentiments in the 1980s.

If I were to sit my 5 year old nephew down and have him watch 80s tv and movies, he’d probably hate Russia. President Reagan told us they were the evil empire. The 1980s US Olympic hockey team defeated the evil Russians in one of the most iconic sports moments in history. Ivan Drago took steroids, kills Apollo Creed, then gets pummeled by Rocky on Christmas and eventually Russia turns on Drago. Even Russia knows they are evil. But John doesn’t think he is evil and he damn well should. If tar and feathering could still exist, may Johnyboy be the first.

God Bless America and the Happiest of Belated Birthdays to one of the funniest pricks I know.

 -JF

Tiny Bauco

Recently, my old pal Johnnyboy got into a Twitter-war with his buddy, Gentle Ken. Ken is a longtime partyer, but trying to keep a clean professional image on Twitter of all places...naturally John chose to tease him until he was blocked. So, who won? Well Ken looks a lot like Elton John, so let this video sway your vote.



Face it, you love that scene in Almost Famous...unless you're John, he hates everything.

-JF